#abuse denial cw

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

me: hermes is a painfully accurate example of how some ways of defending yourself against certain kinds of insidious emotional abuse, gaslighting, ableism, and therapy speak can warp you into a person whose learned helplessness and lack of perspective can result in doing really shitty things, and who passes that abuse along in different forms (hi meteion) + lashes out in disproportionate ways + can be deeply hypocritical.

me: as a disabled person in a society where our systemic mass murder via pressure into government-sanctioned suicide is on the rise, the ancients' society is beyond fucking upsetting to me. i have zero sympathy for anything to do with them pre-apocalypse except for the effects of living in that system.

me: that said, they are a good opportunity to remind oneself that there are children in that burning building; that a society being fucked does not mean they deserve to be wiped out; and that that does not mitigate the harm they do, nor mean that its victims are not allowed to be angry or resist it, including the victims inside it.

me, booboo the fool: oh, this youtube essay about hermes looks interesting--

[punkeropercyjackson]

I do not see what's sexy or appealing about shipping Percy and Apollo.It's the transfem Percy knower in me partially talking but she so obviously finds him disgusting and dosen't wanna be near him because he's such a GuyTM and it's going against her punk rep to play with the potential godly aspects of it since the gods are the ultimate oppressive and corrupted authority in-universe and Apollo's side literally dosen't matter because no 18 year old is obliged to fuck a way older man because HE likes her or him or them,even more so when said older man is her or his or their whole ass relative.'Percy,you can't wear a tank top and shorts today,Cousin Apollo is coming over' ahh dynamic💀

[ickypuppi3]

billy accidentally nearly calling steve ‘sir’ during an argument one time

maybe steve’s pissed about something, maybe billy is, either way they’re having an argument

maybe steve backs billy against the wall for a minute, not thinking anything of it because it’s billy and billy can hold his own, can argue back

but then steve asks him a question, yells when he says it

and maybe billy flinches, forgets where he is

and that’s when it happens

you know a little “yes si-” and billy just freezes.. and steve’s staring at billy and trying to work out what billy was going to say and then he’s like oh..

..oh

and maybe he reaches out for billy but billy’s embarrassed so he tells steve to fuck off before getting the hell out of there

because he knows steve’s steve

knows steve would never lay a hand on him

not like that, not now

and billy’s so embarrassed

and he ends up avoiding steve for as long as he can, thinks that steve must think he’s a mess - even more of a mess - thinks that steve won’t get it.. not that billy really gets it either and that’s the problem

maybe billy just wants to forget it ever happened, wants steve to forget but he knows steve won’t because he’s steve.. he’s steve and he’ll want to talk about it

and billy doesn’t, because billy can’t explain it, doesn’t get it, doesn’t want to get it

doesn’t want to dig that deep

and steve’s all “you know i’d never hurt you, bills” “i’m not him” “you get that, don’t you?”

and billy refuses to even meet his eyes, knows it’s hurting them both but he doesn’t want to think about it

doesn’t want to talk about it

[justplainwhump]

Just A Fling: Equipment Room

My favourite genre of writing: 'Dany refuses to acknowledge that she is not fine'.

This is set in an AU with @wildfae-afterdark, mentioned Peyton (in his pure, unaltered form) belongs to Vic. Set a while after Dany and Peyton started their affair. And then, something else happened.

[Just A Fling Masterlist]

Content / warning: implied past assault (m/f), past drugging, memory gaps, trauma response, allusions of gas lighting, allusions of date rape (even though that's not what happened), implied consentual sex.

The thing that finally makes Dany cry is hearing the question out loud, the very plain, very simple question she's been asking herself every night since the party.

"What happened?" Dennis asks softly from behind her.

She's been gathering her clothes from the floor of the tennis club's small equipment room, while he's still lounging on the folding bed.

She wasn't ready for this.

Her muscles lock painfully and she freezes right there, back still turned to Dennis.

"Dany?"

Nothing, she wants to say. You're overstepping. None of your business. You're my coach, not my therapist. Fuck off. Shut up. Nothing. Nothing. Nothing.

But the words won't come out. The white tennis dress she's just picked up tumbles back to the floor.

Nothing.

Fun. Let's just have fun.

The bed creaks as Dennis gets up steps in behind her. "Shh," he murmurs. "Sit down, Dany."

Shh. It's alright, Dany.

It wasn't. It isn't.

Dennis steps around her, lets her see him, before he carefully puts a hand on her forearm. "Come on. Sit."

He guides her back to the stupid, creaky folding bed, and nudges her to sit down on the edge. She follows numbly.

She followed someone else numbly, too.

"You're hurt," Dennis says.

Dany shakes her head. She's not. She's had a medical check. Not even a scratch. She's been assured she's in perfect physical shape.

She's fine.

"You've been acting off all week. And right now, while we were - You're never like this. I... I know something is wrong. What happened?" Dennis repeats.

He puts a hand on her knee, and she flinches. "Nothing," she whispers and pushes his hand back. "Nothing, I'm good."

"Listen, I know we're not friends, I am in no position to intrude but -"

He's right. They're not friends. Dany doesn't fuck her friends, and she doesn't befriend her fucks.

She likes it like that. Never personal. She makes sure they agree on that.

Peyton had agreed on that, too.

"Please, Dany," Dennis urges. "Did someone -"

Stop, she thinks. Please, stop.

Tears well up in her eyes, and she can't do anything to hold back.

"I don't remember," she whispers. "Please. I... I don't know."

She remembers being with Peyton, flirting, kissing, laughing. She remembers being alone, cold, dissheveled, with a foul taste in her mouth and a horrible headache.

She remembers his texts from later that night, she's stared at them, countless times since.

you were really drunk. i think maybe you took something too, you were acting strange.

drink some water.

It's okay. He wasn't her friend. He doesn't owe her anything. She's a grown up woman, she's capable and strong, and she's responsible for her own actions.

Liquid ecstasy, her tox screen had said.

Let's just have fun, Peyton had said.

Dany sobs.

Dennis' arms wrap around her, and oddly grateful, she buries her face against his chest.

He smells like Dennis, a bit sweaty, a bit of his too strong sports deodorant, a bit like the softner. Not like Peyton.

Not like the other figures that have been haunting her nightmares.

Not like the one who -

No. This is just Dennis.

"I'm fine," she croaks. "I'm sorry, Dennis, I'm... I'm fine. I-"

Someone rattles at the door, followed by an angry knocking. "Dennis? Open up. I don't care about your private lessons. Forgot my bag in here."

"Fuck." Dennis hisses, as he jumps up and gathers their clothes from the floor, tosses her dress back at Dany.

"Coming, buddy, just a sec."

Dany slips into the dress, as Dennis stuffs the rest of his stuff into a bag.

It's okay. She's good. She wipes her eyes with her hands, runs a hand through her hair, and calls up a practised smile, when the door opens.

"Ah, afternoon, Dany," Brad says, without batting an eye. "Nice seeing you back. Can I put you two on the roster for next week, then? Mixed double?"

"Brad, Dany's not -" Dennis begins, but she silences him with a single glare.

"Never been better," she lies smoothly. "Put us on. Let's crush them."

"Cool," Brad says, as he opens a locker and pulls out his bag. "See you then. And make sure this room gets aired."

Dennis stares at the door closing behind him and back at Dany. "Dany, you really should -"

"We play tennis," she interrups. "And we fuck sometimes. That's it. None of that gives you the right to tell me how I'm feeling."

"I was just -"

"I'm good. I deal with my stuff, you deal with yours." She flings her bag over her shoulder and sniffs. "And Brad's right. We should really let some air into this room."

"Whatever," Dennis scoffs. "Yeah. Sure."

And, right as she leaves the room, "Just get help, Dany. Please."

She pretends she didn't hear him.

[anxiouspotatorants]

Obviously everything in season 1 needs to be taken with a grain of salt and for all I know 90% of the reveals were a lie, but based on season 1 alone Maura’s situation is both horrifying and ingenious.

Because think about it. Regardless of if she planned it herself or if it was Ciaran, Maura’s simulation life is an actual hellscape. Her father was still neglectful and abusive. Her mother still lost all her memory. Simulation! Maura had experienced a miscarriage and was distressed about no longer being able to conceive, she was living in constant fear of her father’s plans, in a world and time where being a woman in the field of medicine was a nightmare all on its own, and where the only person she thought she could trust had been missing for four months. And then she finds out it’s all a lie. This torture of a life was created, and supposedly by herself, to escape the pain of her real life. Because to the Maura who made all of this, a life where she lived in constant fear and distrust of everything and everyone including her own mind was still a better life than the one where she lost her son.

And it was such a smart move too. Because why would she believe that such a life was a simulation? Wouldn’t she have come up with something fun and good? Or at the very least not so painful? And to on top of that give her a backstory that made her have to constantly fight not to question her perception of reality? To remind herself that she wasn’t crazy? It’s downright diabolical.

[genericmain]

I'm upset. That bitch who refused to clean her blood? She just started more drama and tried to publically humilate us. She got away with berrating my husband for 20 minutes, before I got out the car. In 10 minutes, not only had I completely changed the mediator's viewpoint, exposed her lying ass, and proven our point, but she legit went unhinged feral mode and showed everyone the side of her I've been seeing for months. I have no doubt that they're talking about her membership to that group rn. Her own boyfriend legit went "I cannot do this" over her antics, AND not only that, he asked if she was serious because she asked him to pick. He knows. He's finally seeing what we've been saying. & she's showing her abusive self centered entitled ass self to everybody all at once.

Girl one day you're gonna land somewhere less pleasent for the way you treat people. Like jail.

[newnitz]

October 7th Evidence

GENERAL CONTENT WARNING FOR V******E & D**TH. DON'T READ THE SPECIFIC CWS IF YOU'RE TRIGGERED BY MENTIONS RELATED TO THESE. CONTENT WARNING FOR ALL ISRAELI AND JEWISH VIEWERS, WE'VE SEEN THESE TOO MANY TIMES ALREADY.

IF YOU'RE TRIGGERED BUT DOUBT ISRAELI CLAIMS, YOU'VE LOST THE RIGHT TO. SORRY NOT SORRY. WE'VE BEEN TRIGGERED HERE FOR A MONTH STRAIGHT, HAVE WAKING NIGHTMARES AND CAN'T FUNCTION, SO IF YOU CAN'T SO MUCH AS CHECK OUR CLAIMS BEFORE DISMISSING THEM, SHUT UP.

SPECIFIC CONTENT WARNING FOR EXTREME SEXUAL ABUSE(SA), DEATH OF CHILDREN, MUTILATION AND MUTILATION OF CHILDREN AND MASS MURDER.

I'm sick of hearing about the "disinformation". I'm sick of people bringing up the decapitated babies over and over as if it's a lie.

So here are links, all of them to NEUTRAL sources, because you'll all call me a propaganda mouthpiece if I link even a single Israeli article, though honestly, you'll probably call me that anyway, because for most of you, the humanity of Israelis and Jews doesn't exist outside of propaganda.

Source(noted: in light of recent discoveries, Reuters might have pro-Palestinian bias, keep it in mind when reading the news).

FORENSIC EVIDENCE FOR THE DECAPITATED AND BURNT ALIVE BABIES, HERE YOU FUCKING GO.

As for 40? The source of the "rumor" stands by her words, and has something to say.

So it's not just Israeli "propaganda" sources that can confirm the babies were decapitated.

The article goes into depth about what sort of evidence for rape and mutilation they found. TheMediaLine source posted above corroborates these claims in grisly detail, so dismissal is no longer an option.

The video I won't screenshot, as I don't want to push Tumblr's TOS too far, but suffice to say it shows clear evidence of a hostage having survived rape.

And if you doubt more claims on sexual torture and infanticide, here's your proof.

If they were aiming to end the "occupation army", why did they ambush a rave?(title below)

Oh! And as for your claim that it was all the IDF making a false flag operation? Boy, do I have news for you!

Not only did they also hurt Muslim Arabs in Israel, many who qualify as Palestinian themselves, but they also committed another war crime.

I'm sure that once this is all over, there will be plenty of evidence catalogued and available to anyone with a strong enough stomach. We've been using the evidence of our murderers - just as we did with the Holocaust. The Nazis wrote down everything and Hamas filmed themselves, both equally proud of their actions. And just like the Holocaust, you cannot bury it for long. Not in the current information age. We won't let you bury it.

So if you walk away from this, if you ignore this post's existence, whether you merely stumbled upon it or got it linked, you are no better than a Holocaust denier. And yes, I am calling you a Nazi, and I am doing so shamelessly. Because you are using their tactics, their dehumanization, their effort to silence Jewish voices lest people realize we're human beings who were subjected to a crime against humanity.

Oh, and one last parting gift:

Think of that when you demand a unilateral ceasefire.

[angorwhosebabyisthis]

i have a lot of complicated feelings about sdmi and its portrayals of SA and domestic violence--which is many posts' worth of a subject, and i'll probably end up properly drafting out at least some of them sooner or later--and one of them is that ricky and pericles are a surprisingly good and chillingly accurate depiction of financial abuse.

this show spikes the ball right into the center of the earth on its other SA/IPV dynamics, but every time i come back to pericky with more life experience and uncover more layers to it, i am genuinely shocked by how consistently they get it right. and not only that, but it's representation for a demographic of survivors that you just do not see in fiction, ever, played fully for tragedy and horror when it would have been so, so easy for them to make light of it or victim-blame.

and just, yeah, the financial abuse is honestly a big one. that's not something you see pretty much ever, let alone in kid's media and let alone with accuracy or respect. this show swings wildly back and forth between 'hats off' and 'what the fuck is wrong with you,' and pericky (as opposed to both romance subplots with the gang 🙃) falls pretty squarely into the first one.

(mostly. boy that sure is some homophobia going on lmfao)

[henrybelly]

ooo i never heard of DARVO before, thanks for teaching me something new

lmao and what a way to learn

[atyourmerci]

Gold wing, angel

meanloser!ellie X classpresident!r

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, sub!reader, v angsty, slight bondage, cunt slapping, fingering, cunnilingus, edging, orgasm denial, ruined orgasms, lite angel symbolism, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: actually surprised I finished a req (you all applaud me) this is inspired by “GOLDWING” by billie.

Ellie was a sick drug. Something not to be desired. She was the epitome of the allure of indulging in something you shouldn’t have, shouldn’t know, try at very least.

How did she get this way- who made her like this? Anger taken out through bodies of admission in an act of revenge. Taking back what was taken from her. Her pride regained by your submission.

You could have never fathomed the aggression the loser from AP American literature could obtain. You thought she’d beg on her knees for you. Worship your every move, starstruck by even getting the chance to touch you.

But she didn’t. She reveled in taking you off your high horse, got off on watching the student body president, proper and witty, utterly depraved by getting her cunt abused by a fucking moron.

-

98- A fucking 98, you did not deserve a 98 on the midterm paper. Your work was frankly sloppy, lacked comprehension. It made you ill knowing you were turning in something so lackluster with your name slapped across the front so proudly. The only thing that made you sicker was the thought of receiving special treatment- you had an image to uphold. You got to your position in this society from your own intellect, blood, sweat, tears and all. Kissing ass for a fucking 98 wasn’t in the cards.

The class began filing out as usual, like wild animals in a pack, shiny white teeth like daggers. Meshing together in their navy steam-pressed blazers, hair like defining fur, the only indication of individuality.

Except for her, sticking out like a sore thumb, the great big elephant in the room. Breaking many rulebook codes with her black nail polish, unkept hair to the standard policy, her white polo unbuttoned at the top two buttons that revealed her freckled chest. Despite her all around degenerate persona, she was irritatingly smart. Maybe if she had an ounce of charm she’d take your place.

With the rest of the class out of sight she stares at you. Not cutting off eye contact you both rise from your chairs you practically run to Mr. Stevens desk. The slap of two papers hit his desk, a 98 and a 90 shining in red sharpie ink on the white papers.

“I don’t deserve this,” comes out in unison, the sincerity in your voice cut open by the harshness in Ellies.

“Please one at a time, ladies.”

Before the words can even escape your lips Ellie rages, “I worked my ass off on this. I deserve better than a 90,” she spits out. “I know you can do better than this Ms.Williams, I expect more from you.” Ellie scoffs back at him, “this is bullshit,” she muffles but continues standing at his desk.

Mr.Stevens nods his head in your direction for your speech, you glance at Ellie with her arms now crossed, awaiting your protest. You brush off her insistence on staying and begin, “Mr.Stevens, I appreciate your grading and understanding my agenda for the midterm, but objectively this is sub-pare work. I think you may have given me someone else’s grade… maybe you mixed up my grade with Ms.Williams.”

He doesn’t skip a beat, “I don’t mix up grades, you earned it. Now if you two will excuse me,” Mr.Stevens directs you both to the now empty hallway.

Ellie storms out with rage, cheeks flushed and lips pressed closely, you follow behind. “‘ms Williams’? the fuck was that?” Ellie presses in a scowl, words echoed in a bare hallway.

“Look I read your paper, I think you deserved better,” you retort in an attempt to soothe her. You cant seem to keep your eyes off her cupids bow, the contrast of soft pink lips against her tired skin.

“Oh thats fucking rich coming from ‘ms I don’t deserve my grade’ you’re pathetic,” she points, eyes thinning.

“Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch more people would like you,” you attempt, heat rising in your own cheeks, heart thumping roughly in your chest.

Ellies cruel disposition contorts into a grin, inching closer to your body, “you’re fucking him aren’t you? Ms. perfect sucking off the teach so she can stay on top?”

A power so foreign comes before you, using force to push your wrist into her chest, though she doesn’t budge, “shut up.”

She returns your aggression, pushing your bodies flesh up against the brick wall behind you, ripping the breath from your lungs. Your hands instinctively grip into her shirt. Her eyes are wild, as if she was surprised she’d taken it this far, or rather puzzled by the fact you haven’t broken your grasp.

You both pant from the intrusion, glaring, waiting- waiting for someone to cave.

Like a dog on a leash you dragged her in, pulling her by her fabric until her lips met your own. A depraved act, met with open mouths and wandering tongues. Hatred in its finest form, digging into her as if you’d ever thought of it. A subconscious desire pulled from the depths of your cravings.

Before true indulgence she pushes you off, taking a moment to look at your hazy disposition, drunk on delinquency, “don’t ever do that again,” she pants out. Taking her thumb she wipes the saliva from your bottom lip and takes off without your response.

-

Time after time you went back. You told yourself you’d stop, never talk to her again. Yet there the keys were in the ignition, a path that you knew like the back of your hand. Leading, controlling your own fate of defacement.

“Can you please just open the door,” you plead on her doorsteps, mind and body corrupted- to only be pleased by the mental games, the destruction in forms of submitting to her.

Strung up like an old doll long forgotten in the attic, bound wrist behind your back and ankles tied to the head of her bed, vulnerable and needy.

“What now? Use your fucking words,” Ellie remarks before spitting on your neglected cunt. Your body winces at the sensation of the hot liquid dripping down the pulsing flesh, “please I promise I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She hovers over your squirming body, carful to not give you the satisfaction. Gripping your jaw in her hand, “do you ever pay attention to what I tell you? You don’t deserve to come,” cocking her free hand back to lay a purposeful slap to your slick folds causing you to scream out from the blissful pain.

She lays another one into the already beat red skin, a cruel grin growing on her lips as she hears you enjoying it. “You’d let me do anything, wouldn’t you?” she asks glaring at your tucked in lip, eyes glossy. You nod back at her, signaling your approval for using your body as her personal vessel.

Somehow it was good enough for her, dropping down to your perked nipples and sucking it into her teeth as she uses her hand to cover your eyes. You’d learn very early on that you weren’t allowed to watch her use her mouth on you. In the odd occasion she’d let you have your cunt in her mouth shed have your face shoved in the sheets while she took you from behind. She never told you why- and you didn’t dare ask.

Your wrist wriggle behind your back as your chest arches into her mouth, hot and wet. You obsess over what it would feel like on your mouth again, most nights were spent only thinking of her mouth- foreign, an impenetrable fortress. You began to chase the chance of the feeling her again.

You feel as her mouth comes off of the swollen bud as she removes the hand on your eyes, “don’t look,” she says with no threat in her tone, but you don’t risk crossing her.

You shut your exhausted eyes, dropping your head back as you feel her wrap her arms around the meat of your thighs. She drags an antagonizing strip up your slit, jolting your body into the mouth.

She goes as slow as possible, providing as little pressure she can muster up to the swell of your clit, but from her slaps it wouldn’t take much. Your body akin to a fish gasping for air out of water, squirming under her touch. She digs her fingers deep into the flesh as a warning.

“If you ever want to come again Id advise you behave.”

“P-please,” you plead to her, legs shaking as you whimper her name over and over like a prayer.

“I said no, i swear to god I’ll ruin every fucking orgasm,” sliding her two fingers into your clenching hole she drives slow pumps as she returns her mouth to your clit.

Your face contorts in concentration, attempting to hold yourself back but you could only be held off for so long.

“Ellie- Ellie!” bursting at the seams, your body detesting her rules, letting the hot white cum coat her fingers. She only fucks you harder, faster through your orgasm. This is a game you weren’t to win, rather to allow herself to revel in your pain. She got off on destroying your mind, making it to where you can only be pleased by her punishment.

Ellie kept her word, working you up on the edge of finishing and stopping completely, laughing at your pathetic state, crying and begging to come.

Clipping your wings, she hung them on her walls as a trophy. Pleas echoing her room, come splattering her sheets, your lips chapped and neglected.

[yunnimilk]

hey :D if you're accepting requests can you do domtop amab reader with subby amab gojo with them secretly dating? Hcs or a small drabble is fine

If you're alright with it, you can do a satosugu version if ot3's aren't against your rules! If you can't dw you can just write gojo :3 (if you do write satosugu then it's the same as the just gojo one!)

tyty for your time

⋆.˚ ★ ᝰ.ᐟ ; 1st p. ; AMAB! SUB! BOT! Saturo Gojo x AMAB! DOM! TOP! GN! Reader + 2nd p. SUB! BOT! AMAB! Satosugu x DOM! TOP! AMAB! GN! Reader VERS.

. 𖥔 ݁ ˖ | kinks \ tags ; orgasm denial, brat taming, spanking \ impact play, sex toys ; both parts !

,. 𖥔 ݁ ˖ | two sets of headcanons ; cw : none, I have two versions for this! Satosugu + you vers. and you + gojo only! I am just assuming that you wanted geto and gojo to be sub . AMAB LANGUAGE , reader has gender neutral prns. there will be a nsfw vers and a sfw vers, I should update my rules for ot3 , and hope you have a great day, anon, you are so sweet xoxo

BEWARE OF NSFW UNDER THE CUT !

Gojo x Reader vers. ;

SFW ;

Dating Gojo was quite the adventure, especially if you're doing it in secret. He pops in your place randomly, awaiting the affection that you give him ,

You two have mini dates in the breakroom, he likes making matching bentos for you both. Caressing your hand while he tells you about his day ,

Sometimes, he's not so subtle about your secret relationship, everyone assumed that you two had a crush on eachother, at the very least. You still kept it a secret notheless, no one needed to be in your business

sometimes he feels bad about not giving you any attention because he's so busy ! So expect to be smothered in kisses after his shift !

Gojo loves having shared showers / baths with you ! It doesn't even need to be sexual, he just feels relaxed with you in a bathtub !

Before you two go to work, you both go to a cafe that isn't really visited by anyone, no one familiar can see you two there so he can flirt and cling onto you all he wants !

You leave little notes in his lunch when you can't hang out with him during it, seeing them melts his heart, so he decided to do the same to you !

Whenever you call him he acts like you're his grandma or a doctor, but he's kind ofna good actor so everyone actually believes him for the most part !

NSFW ;

Behind closed doors it's anything but wholsome, if Gojo decided to act like a little brat, you'd stroke his wet cock and only stop if you felt it twitching which indicated that he was cumming ,

Spanking and fingering him over your lap, giving him a pillow to bite on and moan in. You slap his inner thighs, dangerously getting close to his cock, it leaks of pre-cum as you jerk it off for a second but then rob him of that pleasure !

But he still acts like such a little brat, being condescending on purpose, you slide a vibrating cock ring on his dick, then he sobs from the pleasure, screaming so loudly. The best part is that he can't cum, so he just squirms in your lap while you get harder from the sight ,

You stroke his white hair while his back arches and his body fidgets from the vibrations, Gojo grinding his cock pathetically on your leg. His drool seeping into fabric of the pillow, his mind was too far gone !

Using a little ball gag to block off his whimpers while you abuse his prostate with your cock, his thighs are shaking and his hole is getting more puffy ,

The pink hole looks so adorable trying to take you. When you take it all the way out, you can see it clench around nothing, then when you're about to put the tip in, his hole tries to desperately suck your cock in !

Satosugu x Reader vers. ;

SFW ;

Geto's more calm and collected than Gojo in the relationship, not to say that he doesn't have the same thought process, I mean, the two boys have been with eachother since highschool. It's nice to have a mix of peaceful and chaotic energy in your life ,

It's best to keep this relationship a secret since Geto is trying to get rid of all non-jujustu sorcerers, which makes him a major enemy to jujustu high, it'd go hellish if anyone found out about this poly dynamic ,

They love to suffocate you with kisses in the morning, no matter how 'ugly' you think the drool dribbling down your cheek looks or the crazy bed-head that you get is, it's the minimal time you all have together before starting the day

Geto actually looks so amazing in the mornings while Gojo looks like a wet cat, the raven haired man has such a princess look while he's sleeping, but when you look at Gojo, he just looks very messy ..

When they both get home, they just want to cuddle with you, not letting you go, even for the bathroom. Probably planned to pounce at you so you wouldn't escape their grasp !

Movie nights! You guys have one at least once a week, watching knockoff Disney movies with popcorn. You lay on Geto's chest while Gojo places his head comfortably between your thighs .

NSFW ;

Imagine you sending nude photos at work, Gojo basically mewling at the sight of your bare stomach and cock while Geto already getting hard, dick straining against his pants ,

When you all get home, they're already fighting to suck your cock, fighting to yank off your underwear, looks like you have to punish them for fighting ~

You make the other one watch while you fuck one of them, not letting him touch himself either, but you make sure that the one that's reciving treatment doesn't get to cum, he doesn't deserve it anyways

Gojo getting on top of Geto to make out with him, you spread both their legs to push the head of your cock inside their velvety hole. Spanking both of their thighs until it turns red, and teasing their holes, they both whine from the minimal pleasure they receive ,

You make sure that they don't get to reach their orgasm, you pull out your fat cock to see their cute holes wink at you, basically leaking for you ♡

You take turns to fuck them, but they cry when they don't get attention from your dick. You have to fuck the brattiness out of them until they're both babbling from the amount of cum covering them and filling them up !

Geto gargling on your cock and Gojo sucking your balls, they look so cute! Hearts in their eyes while they try their best to please you ,

The pleasure bekng so intense that you shoot gallons of cum, the white liquid dribbling down their chins making sure to drink up every last drop !

You make sure to shove buttplugs in their spasming holes so none of your seed can escape, taking care of them by feeding them with your cum !

[buckysgrace]

Hi. You’re amazing!

Do you ever write fluff? Like if you found out you were pregnant with Billy’s baby and at first he’s upset and doesn’t want anything to do with you but after you have the baby ( a little boy with blonde curls like Billy) he gets all emotional and wants to desperately be a better father than his dad was to him 😭

Hello! Thank you so much <3 I absolutely will write fluff!

CW: Mentions of abortion, mentions of child abuse, lots of Billy being scared and a lil mean.

Billy's son is also referenced as having blonde curls and his nose, but the rest is ambiguous!

He was scared.

Billy honestly didn't know what he was going to do. There had been many arguments with you about it, but you seemed fairly determined. You were going to have this baby, whether he wanted to be a part of the baby's life or not.

It wasn't necessarily that he didn't want to be involved, but he could feel a crushing fear spreading through him every time he thought about being a dad.

His relationship with his own dad was strained. Things weren’t the best between them. He never really had a positive father figure, someone that showed him how to stay calm even when he was frustrated. The last thing he wanted was to end up snapping at his own child.

He couldn’t be a dad.

“Not mine,” He said once you showed up with the ultrasound, the bloodwork and everything. Denial was all he could think about, all he could process. He couldn’t fuck up your life and this child’s life if he wasn’t involved. It was that simple, “I didn’t knock you up.” 

“Uh huh,” Was your dry answer, your eyes looking less than amused, “Do you want a paternity test then, William?” Came your snarky response, because you both knew the truth. This baby was his, there was no doubt in Billy’s mind about that. And it terrified him. 

“Don’t call me that.” He said as he pushed his hair off of his forehead, feeling sick as it continued to wash over him. He was going to be a dad. He was going to end up just like Neil. 

“Then don’t act like you weren’t a part of this.” You said, looking just as fearful as what he felt. He sat down on the edge of his bed, tapping his foot rapidly as he thought about how good a smoke sounded right now. He’d need a lot more to make him relax. 

“It’s still early, right?” He questioned at last, turning his attention back to you. He watched the way your eyebrows furrowed tightly together and then relaxed again. Your eyes softened, telling him what he already knew. 

“I’m not getting an abortion,” You said at last, “I’ve made up my mind. You can make your decision, but I’m not letting you walk in and out of our lives whenever you see fit. You can be a part of this baby's life or we can end this. Whatever you prefer.” You were gentle with him, setting out the options softly like you always did. You understood him better than anyone else, made him feel safe. It made him sick to think about how he was hurting the one person he really cared about. 

“Can I think about it?” He asked at last, feeling like there wasn’t anything else to do. He didn’t have an answer yet and he didn’t want to end up saying the wrong thing. He was growing angry at himself. He could only imagine what Neil would say once he found out. 

“Yeah,” You replied gently, eyes softening as you nodded your head, “But I can’t wait forever. I need to know your answer soon.” Your voice slightly wavered but he looked away, not wanting to see you so upset. 

“Yeah,” He responded as he nodded his head and placed his fingers tightly together, “I’ll let you know.” He said at last, staying put until you left. Everything was falling apart, breaking down around him. He couldn’t deal with it right now. 

Ignoring you was harder than he’d thought it would be. He looked for you everywhere he went, even though he knew he couldn’t have you. That was his own fault regardless. He’d made up his mind. It would be easier this way.

Yet, when the invitation for your baby shower arrived in his mail he felt his walls caving in. They crashed into him, making him break down as he stared at your handwritten notes on the card. He could tell just by reading it that you were excited, not afraid. He wished he could be more like you. 

In the end, he decided to go. He needed closure, as he was sure you needed to. He wasn’t sure how he was supposed to stand living in the same town as you, knowing that his child would never know him. Somehow, that made him feel even worse.

He felt lonely as the months drew on. He had no one to confide in for his problems; especially Neil and Susan. He didn’t know what to say when they questioned about your disappearance and he felt even more at a loss when they asked him if you were pregnant. A shrug of his shoulders was his answer. He really didn’t know. 

The walk up towards the little gymnasium felt odd, like he didn’t quite belong as he stared at the little balloons and elephant decorations that were spotted throughout the room. There were familiar faces; your friends and family. Some other people that weren’t quite as well known. He still felt awkward, like everyone knew that he was the one who had knocked you up and ran. 

“Hey,” You drew out as you approached him, your palm flat against the bump in front of you, “I didn’t think you’d be here.” You said slowly, literally glowing as you stood in front of him. You had a sundress on, your cheeks were warm and forehead a little sweaty. He wondered if it was from the baby. 

“I didn’t think I’d come either.” He admitted at last, hating how horrible that sounded. He just felt like he was in a rut, buried deep inside of a hole with no real way of coming out. You were like sunshine through the dirt, warming his skin as he watched you. 

“What does this mean?” You asked him at last, tilting your head as your eyes softened over his features. He wished that he had a real answer for you, to tell you how he felt. He was in love with you; deeply. He just didn’t want to hurt you either. It was complicated. 

“I really don’t know yet,” He mumbled, “It just felt right.” He decided on, unable to tell you just how much he missed you. He was nearly desperate enough to fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness. He would if you pushed him hard enough. 

“Billy,” You drew out in exasperation, “I can’t have you doing this, being so wishy-washy. What do you want?” You asked him seriously, looking like you were close to cracking too. He wanted to reach out and touch you, to hold you. He needed to apologize. 

“I just want to be better,” He replied slowly, “I want to be here. For you and for-,” He stalled for a moment as he looked down at your baby bump, feeling like he was at a loss once again. He wasn’t sure if you wanted him in his life or not. 

“Him,” You said quickly, “We’re having a little boy.” Your eyes were glazed over in tears, your lips pulling into the tightest smile. You were clearly emotional, making him feel awful as he reached his hand forward. Your fingers met slowly, molding against one another. He felt sparks traveling up his arms, leaving him resentful of the past few months he’d wasted. 

“That’s-, that’s good,” He answered after he cleared his throat. He was already scared to be a dad, but to have a son? He feared that even more. He was sure he was following directly into Neil’s shows, “Have you decided on a name?”

“I kind of like Cash,” You stated as you rubbed at your belly, “Just feels right. C’mon, you can open the presents with me.” You explained as you tugged him along, leaving him a little jittery. He thought about pulling out a cigarette, but figured it wasn’t the right place to do it.

He felt a little lost but slowly grew more and more keen on what was happening. It was still a lot to process, but it felt right being there by your side. You were clearly excited despite everything that had happened. He was grateful that you were so open, that you didn’t hold a grudge against him.

“Where are you living at?” He asked instead, curious as to whether your living situation had changed or not. You were still living at home the last time he checked. He was slightly nervous, wondering if someone else had slipped into his spot. 

“Still with my parents,” You admitted as you shrugged your shoulders, “They were upset, but they’ve come around.” Your lips were pulled into a smile, looking less than worried. Apparently things had been fairly well for you.

“They probably hate me.” He said a moment later, sure that it was true. He couldn’t see how they wouldn’t. He had practically left you. You snapped your eyes up towards him. 

“Hate is a strong word,” You told him quickly, “But yeah, they’re not the happiest. Especially dad.” You explained slowly as you continued to rub at your baby bump. 

“Great,” He mumbled as he placed his hands in his pockets, “I’m really sorry.” He breathed out slowly, knowing his apology was more important than everything else. He meant it too. He shouldn’t have pushed you away. 

“You just disappeared,” You started slowly, “I thought you were gone.” Your voice was soft, full of hurt and distress. He felt his throat tightening, burning as he thought about how much he missed you. He was a fool to ever stray away from you, to leave you on your own. 

“I thought about it,” He told you honestly, knowing there was no point in lying, “I don’t want to be like my dad.” He replied at last, getting down to the root of the issue. He didn’t want to accidentally lash out at you or at your future child. He never wanted that for him. It would be better to be alone. 

“You won’t,” You told him quickly, sternly as he exhaled deeply, “You’re not like your dad. I promise you.” You cupped his face softly, your hands smooth and gentle against his skin. He leaned against you, craving the feeling. 

“What if I lose control?” He asked at last as he drew his eyes over your features, taking in the way you were watching him. You sighed deeply as you rubbed your fingers across his skin. You looked deep in thought as you pressed your nails gently against his stubble. 

“You never did that at your swimming classes,” You reminded him, “You should come stay with me. Move in. It would be good for our baby.” You moved your hands to his neck, then to his shoulder and down to his hands. You gripped them slowly, pressing them against your growing tummy.

He stalled for the longest time, blinking slowly as he felt like the world was freezing around him. Underneath your skin he could feel your baby moving. He gulped, eyes wide as he felt the smallest smile curling against his lips. He exhaled deeply as he looked towards you again. 

“I don’t know.” He replied nervously as he felt his heart hammering roughly inside of his chest. He chewed on his bottom lip, thinking that it would be easier. He’d be closer for you, for the baby. If he was really going to do this, he needed to be near you. 

“You don’t have to marry me or anything,” You started, “Or be with me if that’s what you want.” You said sheepishly, looking embarrassed as you quickly looked away. He felt his heart shatter a bit again, worried that he had truly hurt you. 

“You have someone else?” He asked at last, worried that you had moved on. He had done wrong, but he really did love you. You were the only one he was passionate about. He wasn’t sure how to move on if you had found someone else. 

“No,” You responded with a smile, “But I just want you to be happy. Even if it’s not with us.” You nodded your head, but looked like that was hard to admit. He didn’t want you to be alone. Not anymore. 

“You make me happy,” He said at last, “We’ll work this out. I promise.” He said as he brought your hand up to his lips, savoring the feeling of your skin against his mouth. He closed his eyes, feeling very regretful. He wouldn’t lose you again. 

When he returned home he felt odd, but not like he had in the past few months. He didn’t drink away his feelings, or drown his anger out with music. Instead, he worked on packing. He wasn’t going to be like Neil; not at all. He was going to be there for you. He was going to be there for his son. No matter how scared he was. He couldn’t let either of you down. 

“Where are you going?” Neil’s voice made him jump, surprising him as he paused with the article of clothing in his hands. He turned slowly, looking at the way Neil was leaning against the door frame. He had his hands crossed tightly over his chest, his eyebrows furrowed together tightly. His features were stoic, like he was deciding whether he should be angry or not. 

“I’m moving out,” He said as he turned away, shoving the clothes back into his bag, “I uh, found a place.” Billy replied slowly as he finished zipping up his bag. He wondered how much he’d really be able to take with him. Probably not much if his dad got angry. 

“You moving in with that bitch?” Neil tilted his head up as he spoke, like he was trying to make himself taller. His eyes were sharp, cold as his gaze cut into Billy. He felt sick as he gulped harshly, trying to keep his tone at bay. 

“Don’t call her that.” Billy responded hotly, feeling defensive of you. You weren’t anything like that and you were letting him back into your life; just like that. You were everything and more to him and he wasn’t going to let Neil speak ill of you. 

“Is the kid yours or some little bastard?” His lip curled up in disgust as he spoke, his features filling with disappointment. Billy didn’t care. He was going to be happy with you. He wouldn’t be like Neil. Not ever. 

“Mine,” He said roughly, “And don’t you ever call him that.” He snatched up his bag, taking his few items with him as he moved forward. Neil scoffed as he shook his head, irritated as Billy pushed forward.

“She’s going to ruin your life,” He grumbled as he gripped Billy’s shoulder, holding him in place for a moment, “And don’t even think about crawling back. I won’t have you.” He said threateningly, like he might change Billy’s mind.

“I won’t come back.” Billy promised, stern with his answer as he walked past him. He wouldn’t let his son suffer the same way he had. They both deserved better than this. 

The rest of the months passed breezily, making him come to terms a little easier as your due date approached. He had done a lot of ass kissing, pleading and groveling until he got back on your good side. He brought you flowers every day, rubbed your feet after work and gave you plenty of kisses.

You complained about how you looked as the final weeks approached, but he thought that you looked beautiful. Stunning. In his opinion, you were glowing. He loved rubbing your tummy too, feeling like he got a deeper connection that way.

Your labor was messy, a little chaotic. Billy was terrified something would go wrong, but stayed close to you regardless. By the end of it, his hand was numb and his wrist aching from how tightly he’d been gripping you.

“Look at him,” You breathed out as you held the little boy in your arms, “He’s so cute.” You sniffled, looking like you were seconds away from breaking down again.

He stared and stared, memorizing his son's features as he came to terms that he was a father. He had a little boy, someone to take care of. He looked so fragile, so tiny. It made him nervous. He was fearful that he’d accidentally hurt him by holding him wrong, or by dropping him. He wasn’t sure how his rough hands were supposed to hold something so soft. 

"Billy," You breathed out quietly, making his throat grow raw as he stared down at the little boy. Soft blonde curls and the same sloped nose he had. Everything else about the little boy reminded him of you, "Are you crying?" You asked gently, making him feel even more emotional as he shook his head. 

“No,” He said hoarsely, doing everything in his power to keep from breaking down, “S’just a lot.” He mumbled as he wiped at his eyes, inhaling deeply through his nose as he tried to calm himself down. His hands were shaking, his heart thumping roughly inside of his chest. 

“I know,” You replied softly as you sat up a bit, gesturing the bundle in your arms towards him, “C’mon. You’ll feel better.” You reassured him, but he still felt hesitant. He pressed his fingertips together before he nodded, accepting the little baby from you.

Names hadn’t quite been figured out yet, but that didn’t matter at the moment. He looked healthy, his cheeks full and fists clenched together as he stretched his arms out. Billy felt a small chuckle leave his neck, fighting over the sob that was threatening to burst free.

He suddenly couldn’t remember why he had been so nervous, or scared. As his son curled against his arms it felt natural, like he already knew what he was doing. He savored the warmth, the way the little baby cooed as he adjusted him in his arms. Everything felt right suddenly.

“I won’t let anything bad ever happen to you,” He promised as he kissed his little head, sighing deeply as he snuggled his little son towards him, “Not ever. I promise.” 

[inez-winchester-cameron]

cw: dark!rafe x agegap!reader, ten year age gap (29 and 19), abuse lowkey, orgasm denial, degradation, no aftercare, daddy kink, misogyny

note: ngl im a sucker for a good age gap. added the abusive part in last minute. still taking regular or dark!rafe ideas :))

rafe never really grew out of his high school "phase". 10 years later he's still the same guy he used to be. loud, abrasive, angry, a frat boy. he still makes deals with barry and helps him sell his products.

you didn't even notice rafe wasn't your own age until you asked how old he was. him and topper still throw the same lavish parties and still invite all the kooks.

"hey sweetheart, can i get you a refill?" rafe asks with a sly smile, seeing your nearly empty cup.

"oh no i think i've had enough," you claim. you've always been a little bit of a good girl, always limiting yourself to one or two drinks and keeping the days you drink to a minimum. to this day, rafe makes sure you keep your alcohol content down in a sort of controlling way but in some fucked up way, you enjoy it.

rafe takes care of you almost as if he would a child, telling you what you can and cant do. if you can or cant eat something, and he goes as far to give you rules you need to follow and god forbid you break those rules, he'll have you over his knee (or if you really piss him off he'll slap you so hard your ears are ringing).

you'd be lying if you said rafe hasn't corrupted you. he has you tucked into his side as he deals drugs, has you trying all sorts of alcohol, and he has definitely corrupted you in the bedroom.

-

"remember how fucking innocent you used to be, whore?" rafe asked, holding your hips as he fills your tight pussy from behind, "had such a pretty virgin pussy and you let me ruin it..what a fucking slut."

"letting such an older guy fill your pussy..god imagine if your friends knew? youre such a fucking whore. them college guys cant fuck you as good as daddy can, huh?"

"r-rafe-! i-i " you whimper out, receiving a tug on your hair in response.

"what? spit out, slut."

"m gonna cum!"

rafe chuckles darkly and stops, laughing more when you whine. he pulls out, cumming on your ass, smearing it around a little.

"really thought daddy would let you cum? or fill you up? dirty whores dont deserve those things. try being a good girl again and maybe ill let you cum."

"but daddy-" you're cut off by a slap to the face. you whimper in pain.

"you know the rules. no whining. what daddy says goes, understood?"

you weakly nod, terrified.

"now clean yourself up and get me some dinner." rafe says, tucking himself away. he gives you a kiss on your cheek, a small show of affection before walking away. he leaves you shaking, scared, and wanting more.

[sserasin]

bff!jake who sends their sex tapes and nudes to any boy reader gets close to or asks out so she would be his only !!!

- 🧸🎀

marking territory

cw nsfw under cut, noncon/dubcon, female reader, bff!fwb!jake, unprotected sex (he pulls out n cums on reader), he records with consent and sends it without consent(or knowledge), dehumanizing kinda, brief mention of cravity minhee and hyeongjun, orgasm denial

“i—it’s not nice,” you whine, pawing at his shirt. jake chuckles, grabbing your wrists with one hand and bringing them up over your head.

“yeah? well it’s not nice when guys try to get with my girl when they know she’s mine,” jake’s grip tightens, slowly rocking his hips into yours.

you let out a pathetic sob, eyes scrunching shut as you weakly bang a fist against his chest, but words stubborn as ever like he’s not filling you up to the brim— “i’m not yours!”

jake’s free hand grabs your face, turning you to look him in the eyes. your core tightens at the look on his face, feeling your cheeks puff up from the hold he has on your cheeks. “so i’ve gotta show you, too, huh?”

before you can ask what he means, his thrusts become quicker, rendering you speechless. broken moans leave your mouth, eyes squeezing shut as a way to ground you as he quite literally splits you in two.

unbeknownst to you, jake’s head turns to where his phone sits and he lets go of your wrists to grab it. he quickly slides his thumb on the screen, switching to video recording and raising it above your body.

“did you like when minhee said you were pr—pretty?” jake grunts in between pants, and your brows furrow, eyes fluttering open to stare at him. you realize he’s recording you, but you had already told him previously he could— whenever. you dismiss it, staring up at him through lidded eyes. you could barely register what he was saying, with his cock hammering into you repeatedly. “i’m surprised hyeongjun didn’t come in his p—pants right there when you touched his— damn— arm.”

a shriek leaves your lips as the knot in your stomach tightens, tears slipping down your cheeks, “j—jake—”

“what better way to mark my territory than to ruin it?” the camera is shaky, but it’s light enough in the room that it gets your face and entire body in the frame. he moves the camera to get his cock sliding in and out of your puffy, abused pussy. juices squelch noisily and he can see the print of his head in your lower abdomen, and his eyes flutter shut. he groans, rutting up into you, “sh—shit—”

jake forces himself to pull out of you, pumping his cock with one hand and focusing the camera on your face with tears still trailing down. he comes with a short whimper, as if he’s biting it back. thick streams of cum land on your face, getting your eyelashes, cheeks, and mouth. your eyes blink open, sticky white on your lashes as you look up at him, “i didn’t—”

“shh,” jake shushes you, rubbing the head of his cock over your lips and smearing his come. “i’m not done with you, yet.” he ends the recording, tossing his phone back on the table.

hours later, as you’re passed out beside him in his bed, he makes sure to send the video to both minhee and hyeongjun, smirking when the read receipts turn from delivered to read.

neither boy looked your way ever again, much to your confusion and jake’s delight.

[cursedmoon-doll13]

If It Serves You.

(Headmaster!Severus Snape x Reader)

Cw: Non/Dubcon + Aftermath, Afab Reader, Dark-ish Snape, Unprotected Sex, Powerplay, Sex as Bargaining, Facefucking, Crying, Fingering, Creampie, Begging, Degradation (use of slut) and Praise, Reader calls Snape ‘Headmaster,’ Former Student Reader, Mentions of Torture/Child Abuse, Denial of Feelings.

READ WITH CAUTION

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: As a professor of Hogwarts, your past ambitions, your fragile hope and unrelenting diligence have all led to nothing. Now, you are powerless beneath the rising force of He Who Must Not Be Named and his army of Death Eaters. The only thing left you have to give is your pride; your weak and vulnerable body.

Or, you beg the new headmaster to show mercy to your students in exchange for sexual favours.

Dividers by @/saradika

Of course, there was no pressing need to check and recheck the potions’ storage. Certainly no need to catalogue it twice. You did almost it out of instinct, or force of habit. Yes, It’s healthy to maintain a routine, including routine inspections, just like- just like-

“Professor ___,” comes a gruff voice from behind. In your nervous state, you imagine it is a Carrow, and freeze in panic. “Why are you here?”

You whirl around. No. It’s Professor Slughorn.

“Oh,” you straighten your robes. “Horace. I was just taking inventory.”

“Were you? I’m perfectly capable of doing it myself.” He says brusquely.

“Of course, of course you can.”

Your voice carries the same placid, appealing tone with which you’ve used to calm your pupils. You wince at the sound of it. Then, his expression loosens. Not immediately, but little by little, settling into the creases and wrinkles of stress and age. His walrus moustache droops into a familiar frown.

“I’m… I’m very sorry, ___,” he says. “Whenever I leave my storage unattended for too long, I take this terrible notion that some very bright and brilliant student is going to brew a polyjuice potion. Heh.”

His laughter rings rather hollow.

“Yes, those were my thoughts exactly,” you concede, heaving a sigh. “It would be so simple. Not for all of them, but some of our best could do it. And then they would make a reckless attempt at escaping, or even try to impersonate one of those Death…”

You stop yourself, and peer carefully into his face.

You’ve noticed how Horace has visibly deflated, how he has lost his colour over the past few months. How could you not? You would never accuse the Slug of being slovenly, but you’re well aware that beneath all the powder his eye-bags are as sunken as yours.

“It is unfortunate that one of my… One of our best…” It seems that he cannot finish his sentence. Nonetheless, you know who she is.

“It’s a very unfortunate thing,” Professor Slughorn mutters idly. “Very unfortunate…”

He’s fiddling with a ring on one liver-spotted finger. His lips purse periodically, as if a throb in his temple is threatening to burst.

“Horace, It’ll all be alright,” you try to reassure him, knowing you cannot guarantee this.

The only response you receive is a distant nod. He does not stop fussing over his ring. Then, he turns abruptly stony again:

“Well, then,” he says. “You’d best be on your way.”

He dismisses you as curtly as he would a student, but you don’t protest. You know that when you leave, he will pacify his anxiety with a sleeping draught.

As you exit the dungeon and traverse the silent halls, the early winter chill rattles straight through your bones. It seems that Hogwarts grows colder each passing day; colder and emptier. Even when teaching, your classroom is as quiet as death.

Alchemy has never been a popular elective, and now you are down to very few students. Some had also disappeared completely over the Summer, mostly those without Pureblood status or families to support them… You try not to ponder too deeply on it. For their sake - and perhaps also for your own - you keep it together.

Yes. You must stay stubborn and strong. Especially considering what you are about to do now.

You shiver in your thin robes outside of the Headmaster’s office. The griffin sentinel glares haughtily down at you, and for a second you fancy it alive, judging you guilty for some crime. Thinking this, You glance this way and that, wary of onlookers. 

But all of the students are asleep; or at least, they should be. Most of your coworkers have also retired for the evening. You here stand alone. 

You take a deep, shuddering breath. 

“Sugar Quill.” Your voice echoes eerily. 

The griffin does not budge. The new headmaster has changed the password, of course. You suspected as much, but it was still worth attempting.  

“Amortentia,” you try next. No response. 

You shift, acutely aware of how ridiculous you must appear; a Hogwarts professor stumped by a statue. 

“Polyjuice. Veritaserum. Bezoar… Asphodel.” 

Nothing. 

“Oh, for Merlin’s sake,” you huff, already spiked with tight, uneasy tension. “It was so much easier when Dumbledore…”

A low, heavy rumble breaks your train of thought as the spiral staircase emerges. You quickly mount it and climb upwards, boots clattering on the rising stone. It gives way to a large study lined with bookshelves.

You’ve made it into Dumbledore’s office. 

Except it is no longer his. You must remind yourself of this fact often, and each time it stings, like a tiny pricking thorn ingrown into the heart. The study is far draughtier than you remember; devoid and bereft in the absence of Fawkes.

No, Albus is not here. Instead, what scowls over at you from behind the Headmaster’s desk is the unmistakable face of Severus Snape, and he does not appear pleased to see you.

“Kindly inform me why you are in my office.” His voice is slow and measured, but you can sense the venom lurking underneath. 

“I don’t remember ever giving you the password,” he continues, alighting from his chair. “Or have you picked up that nasty eavesdropping habit from one of our pupils?” 

He spat that last word as if it was a curse. 

“No, Severus,” you say quickly. “I guessed it.” 

Severus. Or Professor Snape. But now…

You think you catch him pale ever-so-slightly, or perhaps that is the dim lighting of the room, casting dark, creeping shadows across the floor. While there has never been a cordiality or warmth to your relationship, you recognise that you have been spared the worst of his barbed hostility.

Before now, that is; now, the distance between you is far too great. 

“Did you now?” He sneers.

In response, you draw up, mindful not to appear challenging as you tip your chin. 

“I’m here because I have a proposition for you,” you announce clearly. “I hoped you would be reasonable and hear me out.” 

Snape’s eyes narrow icily and suddenly you are in his Potions class again, overseen with strict authority. One wrong move, and the concoction will spoil and poison you. His black robes billow as he approaches, expanding like the hood of a cobra. 

“There is nothing you could possibly offer me,” he says, folding one shrouded arm over another. “And so there is nothing to discuss. Leave.” 

Your nerves are strung so tight, you can’t help but object: “The Carrows are far too cruel in their methods! Too brutal. The students-” 

“Are very fortunate to have been granted mercy by the Dark Lord,” Snape interrupts, and you swallow thickly. Of course, you could not have forgotten the festering dark mark that now itches underneath his robes, writhing and serpentine.

“But it isn’t enough,” you say, throat sandpaper dry. A rush of urgency floods your system. Now. It needs to be now, before you lose your courage. 

(A gash on the cheek, a row of dark-purplish bruises and welts, a swollen eye, whippings and burns, scars from chains, all so frightened, but brave still.)

“If you agree to grant my students your protection,” your voice falters. “I will give… Myself to you.”

The silence that follows is agonising. His expression is indecipherable; taut and stiff. You’re beginning to think that maybe you weren’t transparent enough. 

Your trembling hands drift towards your top buttons, and you start to undo them bit by bit. 

“Stop,” Snape orders. 

At this, you freeze. Your heart plummets starkly into your intestines. Oh. You hadn’t even considered that he would - or could - reject your offer. You fear you may have tipped the bubbling cauldron over and left it melting through the carpet. As you linger numbly, Snape’s tongue darts between his lips. Light flashes behind his stern black eyes. 

Perhaps he’s considering it, perhaps… 

“Come here,” he says sharply. You obey. 

Shuddering in the winter chill, you watch the slow bob of his Adam’s apple, the twitch of his lids as his gaze dips steadily downward… Snape’s forefinger comes to brush the fabric from your shoulder, his knuckle grazing your collarbone, and your pulse quickens anew. 

“I’ll do anything,” you plead. “Please, Severus.” 

“You will refer to me as ‘Headmaster,’” he corrects.

“Headmaster…” 

You suck in a shaky breath. Standing this close to him, you can make out the lilac rims of his sunken eyes and the worry lines on his forehead. 

He’s tired… The thought springs to mind, unbidden. 

The hand that tends to the rest of your buttons is not rough, but the coldness of his touch makes you flinch. Snape pulls down your outer robes in one swift motion, and you can’t help but gasp. Your nipples perk from the chill, skin prickled with goosebumps. Underwear was unnecessary, and though you knew that from the start, you are stripped so quickly it still leaves you cringing. He moves to fondle your breasts, and your breathing shallows. You stare desperately towards the floor, towards some old, faded tea stain.

“Fall on your knees, ___,” he tells you. 

You kneel quickly in front of him, and he moves to cup the nape of your neck. You don’t need to be instructed; you do your best to steady your hands and unfasten the button over his crotch. You nudge out his dick, and see that he’s already half-hard. 

Before he changes his mind, you spit into your palm and use it as lubricant as you get to work jerking him off. You can feel him watching you, silent and still. This situation is completely wrong, all wrong, but the awkwardness of it is almost juvenile. 

“___,” he calls above you. You stiffen. You know that cautionary tone. “If you have enough cheek to wag your tongue at me, you can also use it for this.” 

You nod faintly, licking your lips. Of course, you should have prepared for this, too, but you have barely even steeled your nerves. Hesitant, you lean forward and run your tongue along the shaft, tracing a vein. Your movements are practically mechanical; dispensing small, kitten licks over the tip, continuing to stroke him. This is now a kind of out-of-body experience for you, the sort of bizarre circumstance you can only encounter in a very strange dream. 

But then, Snape decides your next course of action for you, clutching your jaw and muffling your whimpers as he sinks into your mouth. 

A teardrop falls softly onto your chest, and it only occurs to you now that you’re crying. You gag out a sob as the tip of Snape’s cock hits the back of your throat, unable to prevent loose spit from dribbling down your chin. Above you, his breath hitches. 

“Open your eyes,” he demands. 

You didn’t know you had closed them; squeezed them tightly shut. You peek up at his pale face. 

His pupils are blown wide, almost entirely black. Snape forbids you to keep eye-contact with a firm grip over your head, and you gag again as he rocks his hips. You clutch his thighs for purchase while he fucks your face, tears streaming down your cheeks. For distraction, you try to focus on him, and his pleasure-stricken expression lulls you in like hypnosis; the tightness of his lips, his dark brows slightly furrowed, the minute twitches in his jaw. 

Snape’s thrusts begin to stutter, but he tightens his hold on you and forces you to take all of him. He drags in a sharp intake of breath, and warm, slightly bitter cum pools onto your tongue. 

“Swallow it. All of it.” 

You gasp for air, gulping it down hastily. 

“You'll be getting used to the taste of me. Stand.” 

Snape urges you up and steers you over to his table. Before you can blink, you’re whirled around and caged against his desk. The edge of it cuts harshly into your naked thighs, and you yelp. You can feel his long black hair sweep over your neck, a sensation that is almost ticklish. Snape yanks down your robes and they fall limply around your boots. Now, you are truly exposed, shivering and naked. The only source of warmth is his body heat pressed into your back, the starched, dark fabric of his clothing. 

His cool hand dips around and feels down your stomach, and your breath hitches as Snape unexpectedly plunges several fingers into your pussy. You shock yourself with how slick you are, mortified at the way he tsks behind you:

“Little slut. Is this what you’ve always wanted?” Snape hisses into your ear, spreading the pads of his fingertips over your labia, teasing your clit. 

“Yes!” You choke out. 

“Yes, Headmaster,” he pinches your clit warningly and it feels like an electric shock. 

“Yes, yes Headmast- ah…!” 

He starts to rub in rough, merciless circles, and you immediately try to stifle a cry against your wrist. Snape rips it impatiently from you. 

“Don’t even try to deny it. I can feel how wet you are.” 

It’s surely not the truth. Surely, you tell yourself... 

One long, deft forefinger slips into your slit and pumps steadily in and out. You let out a soft moan, unable to resist the quivering thrill that coils in your abdomen. You didn’t realise he would even try to prep you, and, against your will, you feel some of your fear dissipate. 

“You think I didn’t notice, did you?” He scoffs. “Always so desperate for my attention, always clamouring for a better grade.” 

Memories of your seventh year at Hogwarts resurface and spiral dizzily in your head. The newest, youngest professor, but strict and competent, and— 

Dark, sweeping cloak, black hair, black eyes… 

I even once wished I could brush away the strands…  

Then he retracts his fingers, slowly, torturously, You hate how you yearn for his touch in its absence, how you crave the buzz to smother your discomfort. 

Snape bends you cleanly over the polished table, your still damp breasts pressing into the hardwood. He traces a long, thin finger down your back, tracing languidly across your spine; you could almost believe his touch is tender. Almost. Instinctively, you try to turn your head to face him, but he denies you with a firm hand gripping the base of your neck. You whimper as he lathers cold precum on your thighs, positioning his straining dick over your entrance:

“…Or was it praise you were hoping for?” His voice is low and subdued. Snape’s breath fans over you, and for a moment you falter.

No, of course you don’t expect— 

No, not from Professor Snape. Only your best was acceptable. To elicit a nod of approval, or even a commending glance, you couldn’t possibly hope—

“Headmaster, I— I only ever wanted you to…” 

“Beg for it,” his tone sharpens again. 

Snape slips the tip of his cock inside your folds. But then, he stops, and does not move. You are trapped between his desk and him, left pitiful and squirming. 

“Headmaster,” you say weakly. “Please.” 

“Please what, ___?” 

You grit your teeth, still bristling at the indignity of it all. But you know that, whether he’s enjoying himself or not, Snape has the patience to wait this out. 

“Please, fuck me!” you plead.

You gasp as he grips your thighs and slides himself in further with a lewd, wet sound. Your walls stretch around him as you adjust to his length. He groans softly and rolls his hips, sinking deeper into your cunt, until you’re utterly full of him.

Despite it all, it feels sinfully good, but his movements are so sluggish that you can’t help but whine pathetically into the wooden table. 

“And what exactly is it that you’ve always wanted?” 

What I always wanted, when I was in Potions class… 

“For you to p-praise me, Headmaster.” 

In an instant, you realise this is true. Deep down, you have always hoped for his sole attention… And now he’s invading that dark, primordial world in between, spurring on those secret and forbidden desires you should never have conceived. 

Snape slowly pulls out, dragging every inch of his cock, and then snaps his hips back in, briefly hitting that sweet, sensitive spot that has you seeing stars. 

“Please!” You add, letting out a shrill moan. 

“And do you? Do you want this…?” 

He mutters so quietly, it almost sounds like he’s begging you. Snape’s pace is set now, rocking powerfully into you as you fill the air with loud, desperate whimpers. 

“I do!” You breathe, mind-numbingly uncertain. 

But it doesn’t matter anymore if you want it or not; the sensation is so overbearing and so ruthless, unforgiving and unfair, just like him. You’re barely cognizant of the arms that curl around your naked waist, almost embracing you, until they provide cushioning against the sharp desk. 

“You take me so well,” he murmurs, “So well.” 

Your head spins, threatening to give up on you completely. You could never have predicted such a drastic change in demeanour. The way he’s treating you now is so different from his earlier cruelty; his affectionate caresses might be almost loving. 

“So tight, so good for me…” He groans again, heavily, and the vibrations thrill up your spine as he spears you on his dick. “You’re doing perfectly.” 

He kneads the soft flesh of your thighs, sighing blissfully. You can feel the spiking thrum of Snape’s heartbeat, the soft touch of his lips on your neck, kissing reverently over your shoulder blade. You wish you could just see the expression on his face, if you could only see Severus for one moment…

“Headmaster,” you pant, craning your head. 

“Don’t,” he says hurriedly. “Don’t look at me.” 

Snape doesn’t relent, forcing you firmly in place with a hard squeeze on your shoulder. There’s something thick and vulnerable in his voice that you can’t place, but all you can respond with is a needy cry as he speeds up, angling his thrusts just right. You can feel the familiar shock of pleasure coiling up in your belly now, surging from how deep he reaches. 

“I’m the only one who can fuck you like this, aren’t I?” He snaps without warning, bursting with emotion again. You can only nod frantically in response.

“Yes, yes, Headmaster!” You sob, your eyes stinging with tears again.

Snape’s movements only grow stronger, his breathing heavier and huskier. His fingernails are digging small, half-moon indents into your skin. You don’t try to stifle the wanton moans that spill from your lips anymore, clawing for purchase at the wood. 

“___… When you cum, you cum for me.” 

Uncontrollably, you arch into the table. Your leg is cramping up from the exertion, muscles pulled taut, and you’re going to, you’re going to—

Your orgasm drowns the rest of your thoughts in static, white, hot bliss that smothers you. Snape shudders and moans as he buries himself to the hilt, pumping you full of his seed. His black cloak sweeps over you as he pulls out, far too soon, leaving you quivering and dripping with his cum.

The last, mangled strands of lucidity swim hazily in your mind. It takes a moment for you to remember why you were here at all.

After a few seconds, he releases you from the confines of his desk without a word. You bend down and hoist the ring of fabric up past your hips again, though your skin is sticky and damp. After a deep, shaky breath, you dare to glance at Snape. 

There’s a thin sheet of sweat beading his forehead. Snape helps you pull your robes over your shoulders. He silently fastens your buttons back up again for you, and his touch is surprisingly gentle. You don’t rebuff him. Your hands are trembling enough as it is. 

“Promise me that you’ll…” You halt.

Your vision is still blurry, but you could swear he looks like the old Severus. Not the figurehead or the professor, but the man. The Severus you once knew. 

There’s a strange look in his eyes that you don’t understand, and maybe you never will. 

You’re so dead tired you can barely drag your feet back to the staff’s living quarters. You wake Minerva— or, no, she is already occupied by her usual routine of restless pacing, tugging at her tartan dressing-gown. While she does interrogate you a bit crossly, you can tell she empathises with your ‘insomnia.’

After that you gulp down a contraceptive and stumble into bed, boneless and weary. You don’t cry at all, though you feel that you probably should.

In a way, you’re glad that Minerva doesn’t appear concerned or worried for you. That means she hasn’t found out. There was a persistent paranoia in the back of your mind that she had, that Minerva had seen or heard or sensed it somehow.

You wonder if she’d feel disgusted, or if she would simply pity you. Maybe that would be worse.

You flick your wand and flush out the light.

No. No one needs to know what you’ve done.

A month passes. The grip of winter releases its hold, and spring emerges in its wake, fresh and pure. It’s as if you can finally breathe again.

You hope that you do not imagine the way your student’s faces regain some semblance of warmth. You hope you do not imagine the unmarred bodies, mercifully free from wounds. You also hope that it is not their own schemes or plans that embolden them.

They should leave those matters to you.

Somehow, it feels like the nightmare is almost over. But not yet. Not yet. You still await your orders, and nurse lofty dreams of freedom in your heart.

When night falls, you strip off your underclothes and climb the spiral staircase once more. It is not excitement that tightens your chest, but it is also not dread. Perhaps something else you also do not understand, and cannot afford to think of now.

Headmaster Snape is standing by his desk. You realise he’s been waiting for you. He has that strange, mystifying look in his eyes again.

He offers you a hand.

“Come here,” he says.

[angie-words]

Second part of details from the Am I Broken: Survivor Stories episode titled Claire "I ignored It and I Believed Him Because He's A Storyteller [Neil Gaiman]". Part 1 here

Again, a reminder that I really, really urge you to listen to the episode if you feel able, found on Apple and Spotify.

EDIT (1st August 2024): two further women have made allegations

CW: details of sexual coercion, gaslighting, power dynamic imbalance, sexual assault, trauma, ptsd, sexual predator behaviour, grooming, abuse of power, discussion of rape culture, victim-blaming

Claire says she is glad the fandom is doing the work to believe victims, but she also understands those "burying their head in the sand" because that's what she tried to do

DeBoer asks what else has helped Claire, besides learning new vocabulary to help her frame her experiences (e.g. grooming, sexual coercion). She says that listening to her body's physical responses, including the trauma dreams, has helped

She began telling friends and she said this helped a lot as they validated what she was feeling rather than believing Gaiman's narrative

Claire says that writing has also helped her process, including writing letters she never sent. She wrote blog and reddit posts, but didn't publish any of them because she didn't know how to come forward with her story

DeBoer thanks her for finding the ability to come forward and asks her what allowed her to feel this was possible now. Claire says that talking with a friend allowed her to develop a certainty, especially when she starts advocating for herself and other people

Claire says that she had been in denial because she was trying to protect herself from the knowledge that someone she trusted and adored had violated her trust

She expresses a deep sadness about how her memories and love of Gaiman's work have been tainted by what he has done to her. She describes that loss of "such magic and beauty" as being deeply sad

The last time she spoke to Gaiman was 2022, which it now turns out was the same year he got Scarlett to sign an NDA.

Claire reiterates how he is seen as a god, deified by the fandom

During one call, he said "I don't know what I see in you - I'm an award-winning author and you are-" and he didn't finish the sentence but she says he didn't need to as the meaning was clear. She describes herself as one of many fans willing to do almost anything for him

Claire says she and others worshipped him. She says consent wasn't impossible, but she was operating from a hero worship complex, fueling a fawn response

DeBoer states that fans are incapable of true consent - what they see is a projection, they are worshipping someone who isn't real, and so they are incapable of being in a real relationship with that hero

Claire agrees it was his responsibility to open the discussion about power dynamics and adhere to it. She said he didn't check in or respect boundaries; she says that wasn't because of autism or something else - she doesn't know why he felt he was owed her body/consent. DeBoer agrees the responsibility was Gaiman's

Claire says that ongoing consent discussions are needed; DeBoer agrees that such things also need to start slowly, and they both discuss how fast Gaiman moved things between him and Claire

Reflecting on how these experiences have affected her in light of the allegations, she can see now she experienced trauma responses to things that reminded her of him. She had to distance herself from friends who still loved Gaiman; she found she couldn't even enjoy reading. She even stopped going into book stores.

Claire almost stopped volunteering at the rape crisis centre. She wasn't sure how she could advocate for anyone else when she hadn't been able to do so for herself. Her manager validated her feelings and said that if everyone who'd had their boundaries violated left, they'd have no one left. It's implied this gave her a new perspective and moved her away from some victim-blaming of herself

She still experiences feelings of doubt and a lack of self-worth in comparison to who Neil Gaiman is, what he's done. However, Claire is trying to move past this mindset, the voice of him in her head

DeBoer encourages her by reminding her that she matters, that she has a voice. They thank her for her bravery and courage

Claire hopes people come away with believing how our bodies respond to trauma - "listen to all of it, not just what people around you are saying"

Claire says she is not broken: she is sad for the child who lost her hero. At this point, Claire becomes a little overwhelmed. She states he influenced how she thought about the assaults

DeBoer ends by talking about how sexual abuse is about both sex and power, not just power as some have stated, otherwise this would be a different type of abuse. They say that there are many indicators of Gaiman having power (money, fame, social capital, age, maturity, gender, eloquence and mythopoesis)

DeBoer says the person with the power has the greater responsibility for shaping the boundaries of the relationship

They say that Claire's healing has come through being able to tell her story, finding the power within herself. DeBoer details an exercise called "safety bubble" that can assist with this (I'd recommend going to about 1:09:00 into the podcast if you want to learn more)

DeBoer reiterates listening to our bodies and how they respond to trauma - it can be difficult to interpret what the sensations we feel are, but it can allow us to reclaim our stories

They define rape culture and how it is insidious, blaming victims, then sharing original notes DeBoer sent when Claire first contacted them. They say Gaiman was testing and pushing boundaries, that this was predatory behaviour; they also said at the time that there was a high likelihood Claire was not the only person Gaiman had done this to

They end with mentioning where to find more information about restorative justice steps someone can take if they have hurt another person

I think that's all folks. It's been extremely difficult for me, as someone who's experienced sexual assault and also this kind of gaslighting thanks to rape culture mentalities. I hope this has been useful for some folks. Please look after yourselves❤️