#and that being excessively worried about implications on yourself as a person is the thing thats not normal

[diluc33rpm]

2/2 Are you a jealous person?

i regularly commit the sin of envy every time kusuo saiki flexes his capability of teleporting coffee jelly to his house onscreen

[rainsmediaradio]

Joseph Prince Daily Devotional 10th January 2024 – Receive Jesus’ Shalom.

Joseph Prince Daily Devotional - Receive Jesus’ Shalom

The topic of Joseph Prince Devotional for 10th January 2024 Is “Receive Jesus’ Shalom”

Scripture: Proverbs 14:30 NIV A heart at peace gives life to the body.

DAILY GRACE INSPIRATION 10TH JANUARY 2024

The best way to know if you are embroiled in the things of the world is to be objective and ask yourself this: “Is my heart troubled?” I believe that the number one killer in the modern world is stress. Medical doctors in my church have told me that if a patient has high blood pressure, they can advise the patient to cut down on sodium. They can also advise their patients to cut down on other excesses such as sugar or cholesterol. But as doctors, there is one thing that they cannot control in their patients, and that is their patients’ stress levels. I personally believe that the physical root cause of many medical conditions today is stress. Stress can produce all kinds of imbalances in your body. It can cause you to age prematurely, give you rashes, cause gastric pains, and even lead to abnormal growths in your body. To put it succinctly, stress kills! Doctors tell us that certain physical symptoms are “psychosomatic” in nature. That’s because these symptoms are brought about by psychological problems such as stress. Stress is not from God. Peace is from Him! I trust that you are beginning to understand why Jesus said, “Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid” (John 14:27). Now, Jesus would not have used the word “peace.” The Greek New Testament renders “peace” as eirene, but since Jesus spoke Aramaic-Hebrew, He would have used the word “shalom”—“Shalom I leave with you, My shalom I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you.” In the Hebrew vernacular, “shalom” is a very rich and loaded word. There is no English word that can accurately encapsulate the fullness, richness, and power contained in the word “shalom.” Hence, English Bible translators were only able to translate it as “peace.” But while the word “shalom” includes peace, it means so much more. Let’s look at the Brown Driver & Briggs Hebrew Lexicon to get a better idea of what Jesus meant when He said, “Shalom I leave with you.” The Hebrew Lexicon describes “shalom” as completeness, safety, soundness (in body), welfare, health, prosperity, peace, quiet, tranquility, contentment, peace used of human relationships, peace with God especially in our covenant relationship, and peace from war. Wow, what a powerful word! This is the shalom that Jesus has bequeathed you: His completeness, His safety, His soundness, His welfare, His health, His prosperity, His peace, His quietness, His tranquility, His contentment, His peace in human relationships, His peace with God through the covenant made at the cross, and His peace from war. All these, my friend, are part of your inheritance in Christ today! Can you picture the full implications of what it means to experience Jesus’ shalom in your life? Can you picture your life being free from regrets, anxieties, and worries? How healthy, vibrant, energetic, and strong you will be! Thank the Lord for this blessing today and start enjoying His shalom in every area of your life. Read the full article

[elonasblog]

Zombie dream meaning

Zombie films and network shows are frequently viewed as a sensationalized depiction of death, however do they likewise have profound implications? Regardless of whether you're dreaming about zombies is unessential to the zombie in your fantasies. At the point when individuals long for zombies, it might show that their psyche fears are coming through - like apprehension for one's mortality! Perhaps these bad dreams originate from something more private than what we see on television screens. Albeit, perhaps, this implies there has been some misfortune as of late (perhaps connecting with youth).

Zombie dream meaning

Or on the other hand some of the time, the individuals who experience horrible accidents during waking hours will show them into clear dreams around evening time. It could infer that you have been feeling like you are isolates from your general surroundings. You don't feel associated with any person or thing, and it's getting harder for you to continue onward with day to day existence. Some of the time this is brought about by an absence of profound articulation, and different times since we're excessively worried to keep in contact with reality any longer. At times, this is going on as an endeavored protection against overpowering feelings when despondency sets in after the passing of somebody close.

What's the significance here to dream about being gone after or chomped by a zombie?

It's bad when you're the one getting pursued as opposed to doing the pursuing. At the point when this occurs in your fantasy, it implies that you are feeling powerless and overpowered by powers outside of your reach. You feel as though there can be no way out or help from how things at present represent you. Occasionally, all that feels like a lot to deal with on the double! This may likewise result from pressure-filled, unpleasant dreams about zombies going after wherever around you (gracious, God!). It can reflect being constrained into tough spots where each choice appears to be unthinkable in light of the fact that they generally accompany outcomes - one way or another, it will prompt debacle and ruin, so for what reason would it be advisable for me to try and try attempting? Being chomped in the fantasy can mean that you are relinquishing your deepest desires. For instance, assuming you realize that you'd be terminated from a steady employment yet have trust for it while dreaming about being tainted by zombies, it demonstrates that we ought to take significantly less tomfoolery occupations or in any event, exhausting ones - so as not to abandon our objectives (in cognizant existence). We get more familiar with ourselves through these lesser positions.

What's the significance here to dream about a zombie pursuing you? You might be in a circumstance where somebody is continually pestering you. They won't stop with their futile prattle, and they're attempting to drive themselves to certainly stand out enough to be noticed, however all you need is for them to disappear! You really want space, very much like a fantasy about zombies needs room. The possibility of not having any command over what's going on or who is there could feel baffling on the grounds that these undesirable individuals appear to be relentless. It can emerge out of actual connections also - in the event that it feels unimaginable for things to at any point change between two people, zombie dreams could address that feeling as well! The zombie pursuing dream could be about misuse and substance. You might have or know somebody who has an enslavement issue, so you are continually submerged in this climate where medications become a normal practice. Your own capacity to think for yourself becomes undermined by the terrible impacts of individuals around you doing unlawful substances the entire day. It's only simpler to be level-headed among these companions that need nothing more except for your organization. Simultaneously, they utilize their medication propensity to get away from reality each time circumstances become difficult at home or school.

[aava9099]

Dreams about zombie apocalypse

Zombie films and network shows are frequently viewed as a sensationalized depiction of death, yet do they likewise have deeper implications? Regardless of whether you're dreaming about zombies is unessential to the zombie in your fantasies. At the point when individuals long for zombies, it might show that their psyche fears are coming through - like trepidation for one's mortality! Perhaps these bad dreams originate from something more private than what we see on television screens. Albeit, perhaps, this implies there has been some misfortune as of late (perhaps connecting with adolescence).

Dreams about zombie apocalypse

Or on the other hand in some cases, the people who experience horrendous accidents during waking hours will show them into clear dreams around evening time. It could infer that you have been feeling like you are separated from your general surroundings. You don't feel associated with any person or thing, and it's getting harder for you to continue onward with day to day existence. In some cases this is brought about by an absence of close to home articulation, and different times since we're excessively worried to keep in contact with reality any longer. Once in a while, this is going on as an endeavored safeguard against overpowering feelings when sorrow sets in after the passing of somebody close.

What's the significance here to dream about being gone after or chomped by a zombie? It's bad when you're the one getting pursued as opposed to doing the pursuing. At the point when this occurs in your fantasy, it implies that you are feeling vulnerable and overpowered by powers outside of your reach. You feel as though there can be no way out or help from how things presently represent you. Occasionally, all that feels like a lot to deal with immediately! This may likewise result from pressure-filled, unpleasant dreams about zombies going after wherever around you (goodness, God!). It can reflect being constrained into tough spots where each choice appears to be unthinkable in light of the fact that they generally accompany outcomes - one way or another, it will prompt fiasco and ruin, so for what reason would it be advisable for me to try and try attempting? Being nibbled in the fantasy can imply that you are relinquishing your deepest desires. For instance, assuming you realize that you'd be terminated from a steady employment yet at the same time have trust for it while dreaming about being tainted by zombies, it shows that we ought to take substantially less tomfoolery occupations or in any event, exhausting ones - so as not to abandon our objectives (in cognizant existence). We become familiar with ourselves through these lesser positions.

What's the significance here to dream about a zombie pursuing you? You might be in a circumstance where somebody is continually irritating you. They won't stop with their trivial babble, and they're attempting to drive themselves to stand out enough to be noticed, yet all you need is for them to disappear! You really want space, very much like a fantasy about zombies needs room. The possibility of not having any command over what's going on or who is there could feel baffling in light of the fact that these undesirable individuals appear to be relentless. It can emerge out of actual connections too - in the event that it feels unthinkable for things to at any point change between two people, zombie dreams could address that feeling as well! The zombie pursuing dream could be about misuse and substance. You might have or know somebody who has a habit issue, so you are continually submerged in this climate where medications become a normal practice. Your own capacity to think for yourself becomes undermined by the awful impacts of individuals around you doing unlawful substances the entire day. It's only simpler to be level-headed among these companions that need nothing more except for your organization. Simultaneously, they utilize their medication propensity to get away from reality each time circumstances become difficult at home or school. What's the significance here to dream about a zombie canine or some other zombie creature? Numerous creatures have transformed into zombies, yet some stick out. Zombie canines can mirror the separation from your own life or work abilities relying upon how they act with you. For instance, in the event that a zombie canine pivots and snarls at you when it sees you coming close, then, at that point, this might address a forceful response towards something connected with your profession, like old thoughts or old perspectives. Then again, in the event that a zombie canine is strolling by without giving any consideration at all, these could address companions who never again return calls for genuine get-togethers, mirroring their lack of concern about what's the deal with them beyond work hours.

[chil2de]

Your sharing a bed with the JJK men hc's were incredible 😩 special mentions for Megumi's bed head, Nanami being a secret cuddle bug, and Yuuta having to drink both iced coffees (that fucking sent me fjdndnfd I could picture it so clearly).

You're super talented so could I, er, possible get a NSFW version? 👀 💳💥💥💥💳💳💥💳💥

Thank you so much 🥺💕

hello anonie!!! thank you dear i’m so glad you liked them!! please the credit card emojis had me cackling LMFAOOOO you really made my whole day out here!!!(THE ICED COFFEE WAS MY FAVOURITE PART TOO)

well i managed to hit the max amount of characters allowed in a tumblr post with five characters alone so i’m going to have to split this up into several posts. it just kinda happened ig

characters in this post: itadori yuuji, gojo satoru, okkotsu yuuta, fushiguro toji (megumi was supposed to be here but i had to reserve him for next post😔)

this work is nsfw. if you’re new here, please read my disclaimer before proceeding. thank you and enjoy!

based off of this post

itadori

- itadori would prob be a ‘deer in the headlights’ if you woke him up in the middle of the night

- but after that? shit, he’s so nice to you. so kind and generous for his baby girl. whether he’s fucking you ‘cause he thinks you might be able to sleep after an orgasm or there’s just an incessant desire for him- doesn’t really matter all that much to itadori. he loves you either way :)

- gets horny so easily LMFAO

- would 100% dick you down if you asked him to and i like to think that he still keeps his really sweet personality during sex cause aaaa he would be so soft and reassuring

- hardcore dom yuuji sounds sexy as all hell but let’s be real… this man won’t kill a fly and apologises for stepping on ants. only exception being angry sex but overall reserving hard dom for sukuna :)

you pepper tiny kisses onto itadori’s face, treating him with the utmost care like handling fine china. his skin feels so soft against your lips, and he smells very faintly of milky soap. there’s some traces of brand cologne on his shirt, as well as his natural scent.

“yuuujiii-“ you coo, blowing air very gently. when he doesn’t stir, you run your fingertips through a bundle of his cotton candy tainted hair. it evokes a reaction from him, so you continue to press him.

“y-uuuu-ji!”

after a few moments, itadori lets out a soft whine before grumbling incoherent blabber. “i won’t eat the pineapple! kugisaki will scream at me!”

you giggle before prodding him again, when finally he relents and jolts awake, eyes wide and mouth slightly parted at how close your face is to his.

“‘s it morning yet?” he wrinkles his nose, stifling a yawn. you emit a hum in thought before wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling you into him. itadori squeaks in surprise when he feels you latch your lips onto his neck, suckling and carefully breaking the bonds underneath his sensitive skin. his moan comes out groggy, still laced with sleep.

“that drives me crazy, you know that, right?” itadori laughs, though his voice comes as a wobble.

“i know. and they look so good on you too, hm?” you giggle, caressing one hand from his neck and then down to the hem of his shirt. your fingertips flutter against his bare skin and he shivers physically and audibly. you smooth your palm flat along his chest, dragging your nails carefully against his muscles.

“kinda.. wanna.. go to.. sleep.. but i don’t.. wanna fall asleep…” itadori mumbles against his pillow. the fabric muffles most of it, but there’s a strain in his voice that leads you to believe he’s moaning lightly. guess after sukuna ripped his heart out, this area hasn’t been quite the same, huh?

“so? then go to sleep, yuuji. i’ll be fine-“ “-no way! i gotta take care of you”

“so why don’t you?”

“‘m going to! i was asleep just half a minute ago!”

“and besides-“

he shifts himself up into a sitting position, leaning his back against the headrest. itadori opens his arms, motioning for you to crawl on top of him. without any haste, you clamber over his built frame, ghosting just over the print of his hard dick.

“not that i mind but- we did, you know, in the morning already-“ “oh, shit, sorry- it’s totally fine if you don’t want t-“ “-just messing with you!”

itadori pulls your neck down and gifts you with the same treatment you were offering him earlier. his tongue is hot and wet against your skin and you can already feel the precipitation forming at the back of your knees. calloused yet tender hands smooth around your waist and he smooths his palms over your shoulder blades.

after itadori’s satisfied with the mark he left, you can’t help but groan a little into his mouth when his lips suddenly claim yours. he drinks you up, relying solely on your taste like he’s drowning and you’re the air he needs.

itadori takes his sweet time cherishing you, or rather it’s still his state of half slumber, but you can feel a dull ache prick your abdomen. you scratch up his shirt, motioning for him to take it off. you’re unsure what comes over you, but shit, you don’t want him- you need him.

“heyheyhey, ‘s okay. don’t worry, i got you.”

“i’ll take care of you.”

“just relax, okay? i got this.” he only coos with sweet reassurances, peppering small kisses and handling you with the utmost precision.

you whimper, balancing your palms flat against his abdomen for additional support as you sink down onto itadori’s cock. he lets out a hum of content, forehead bumping against yours as he allows you to adjust.

“you good?” he murmurs after a few moments, capturing a few strands of your hair in between his fingertips. you nod meekly and itadori hisses out a breathy exhale. he’s sure that if he goes rough as shit you might end up more broken than being able to sleep, so he screws his eyes shut and exhales to maintain his composure.

blazing hot lips scrape against your ear, and his voice comes out in a husky tone.

“tell me how you want it.”

by the lords of everything and all that is holy, itadori only chants the same phrase over and over in his mind. it’s a miracle that he’s able to think straight with all the blood rushing to his cock. he’s more than happy to take it slow, reward you with slow and long strokes while he showers you with high praises. but he can’t ignore the twitch that he experiences when he envisions that pretty lil fucked out face of yours, all messy and ruined for him.

you mutter that you have no preference, that you don’t care because anything he’ll do for you is perfect, and it only gives him a beaming smile at your words.

itadori grabs the scrunched up ball of his shirt that he was wearing before ripping the fabric into half with his bare teeth. you watch his eyebrows perk when he notices how fucking hot you just found that, evident with the way your walls fluttered around him.

“here, babe.”

you part your lips and he stuffs the fabric into your mouth, there’s a little bit of excess hanging out, but he reminds you that you look sexy as hell either way, on top of his dick like that with your hands on his chest, legs spread, face flushed and ready for him.

“don’t wanna be wakin’ anyone else up.”

yuuta

this man is about to end my whole career

yuuta wouldn’t bring it up on his own accord just because… respect.. and he doesn’t want to pressure you or make you uncomfortable into doing things you’re not ready to.

it’s kind of a gray area for him because he doesn’t relish the idea of bringing up sensitive and/or extremely awkward topics so he really said ‘i’ll leave it up to future me’s problem’

but holy shit. let me absolutely tell you.

the second you hint at it? anything of the sorts? 0 to 100. he is FREAKY you cannot tell me he’s innocent just LOOK at the man

can make you scream with ease. all that practice he’s been doing with handling katanas? he doesn’t need his dick to make you cum. will gladly lick up your leftover juices and remark with a smile on his face how ‘it tastes good, angel’

similarly to itadori, i think he would be sweet and patient when asking for your preferences, etc, but after that you’re gonna have to find something to bite onto

“and? what’d you tell her?” yuuta remarks from over his fanned out deck of three cards. his gaze flickers to you as he awaits a response before using his index and middle finger to lay down a +4 card.

“red, by the way.”

you huff and glare at your boyfriend, picking up four cards and attempting to hold them in such a way that they don’t all fall and rattle to the floor. truth be told? you’re seriously a sore fuckin’ loser. you don’t know how he does it, but you’ve never managed to win a game against yuuta.

“i told maki-san that it’s her problem, not mine. if she’s so pressed about people taking them, why does she keep noodles stored in the fridge? really, noodles in the fridge? they’re really spicy as well! made my nose run like hell.” you scoff in distaste, throwing down a random red card on the pile.

“you totally ate them didn’t you?” yuuta giggles, beaming you a wide smile.

“also.. told her that i didn’t see them instead but- yeah.”

“aren’t you worried she’ll find out? oh, and, uno.”

“she might just beat me up to be honest, and, uno, you say? not anymore, love.” you sneer, throwing down a +4 card.

“i want green.”

“i’d protect you.” yuuta states over his cards. you feel like cracking a joke and laughing, but there’s absolutely zero implication on his facial features to show that he’s joking. that, and his serious tone, of course.

you flip your cards down onto the table and yuuta squeaks, pointing towards them.

“uh- i can see your cards-“

“it’s okay, not like i was gonna win anyway.”

at this point, yuuta’s mind races a hundred miles an hour. he’s panicking, blood pressure raised, heart thumping and throat clogged. oh, shit, did he do something wrong? did he upset you? is it ‘cause he said he’d protect you with no regards to the fact that you’re perfectly capable of fending yourself off against maki? fuck, he’s such a god damn screw-up, can’t even take care of his girlfriend correct-

“hey.”

your fingertips slide around his neck, hands interlocking at the base of his head. your thighs balance on his lap and you straddle him, legs either side of his.

he can’t help but hitch his breath, holding it in as though one wrong move and you would dematerialise.

“what’re you thinking about in that head of yours?”

whether you’re referencing his mini panic attack just now, or if you’re referring to all the multiple times he’s battled just bending you over and railing the absolute shit out of you, there’s not much room for debate when you brush your clothed sex up against the print of his dick.

yuuta snakes his slender hands around your throat, holding it in place. you can feel the arousal pool and wash over you, and you’d be more than surprised if you hadn’t soaked through your clothes.

he lets out a breathy laugh, devastating your stomach with butterflies due to how attractive he sounds. yuuta’s soft lips brush the shell of your ear and his other hand moves to rest on your waist,

“why don’t i show you?”

before you can utter a tease something along the lines of “show me what? how you’re too scared to hit me in bed?” you’re already down, flipped over and bent over the table you and yuuta were using moments prior ago for uno. the cards have splattered all over the wooden floor and you only hiss in discomfort as the cool surface scratches against your delicate skin. your boyfriend towers over you, leaning down as his torso clicks into place against your back. even through his titanium white jacket, you can feel his calm and collected heartbeat. he rests his head on your shoulder, nudging his face into you.

“don’t scream, okay? or, try not to, at least-“

his warm fingertips ghost over the curve of your ass, where he pinches the skin there before delivering a loud slap. you squeak, back arching as you jolt from the action. he proceeds by grabbing the inside of your thighs, long middle finger hoisting around your underwear and pulling it to the side. he makes note of the red lingerie you’re wearing and gives you a small chuckle, peppering a kiss to the side of your face.

“-unless, of course-“

“-you’d prefer everyone hear me fuck you stupid.”

“safe word’s blue, angel. i love you and thank you.”

truth be told, you were never sure what to expect from yuuta. hell, you’d never really seen the man’s dick before, sure you caught glimpses in the morning whenever he’d wake up but it’s really not the same. nothing in the world can compare to the first time you felt his piping hot tip brush up against your slicked cunt. and it was embarrassing, actually, the way your pussy was seething for him already.

with a firm hold on your tailbone, yuuta utilises his lower body strength to ram his dick all the way inside. there’s a garbled and choked moan that hisses from you when you feel your walls wrap and deform around the girth of yuuta’s dick. you whine even more so when you can physically feel a thick vein that decorates his shaft.

“the mirror.” yuuta commands in a low tone, redirecting you to glance at the same mirror you’d always fantasised about him fucking you in front of.

his eyes are half lidded, riddled with concentration. it reminds you of that feral and focused gaze he gets during serious battles.

“don’t look at me. look here.”

you trail the outline of yuuta’s arm veins as a result of him rolling his uniform sleeves up; following his v line that points towards his dick. you can only gawk in awe when you realise you’ve taken him to the base of his shaft.

his gaze locks with yours for a split second and he snaps his hips out until just about his tip is visible inside your cunt.

and shit, if his pretty pink cock isn’t the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, especially with that attractive curve. you’re sure the gesture is just to wind you up, but you can’t help but swoon at him showcasing his pride to you.

“so- mmhf- pretty-“ you whine, words jumbled and breath caught when he slams his dick inside without any prior warning. you can only shriek in exclamation when his tip bruises your cervix, and you’re unsure whether you lament the sensation or not.

he only gives you a cheerful hum, reminding you of his usual cheery disposition. it’s not until then that you realise how much of a fucking beast he’s acting right now.

“right? i’ll put it to good use, i promise.”

gojo

- i know we’re all thinking the same thing here lmfao

- trying to sleep? good for you, now, open your legs for satoru.

- oh you can’t sleep? atta girl, down on your knees for satoru.

- bye i can literally imagine gojo saying some dumbass shit like “think you were trying to sleep but i couldn’t help but think how good my dick would look down your throat like that. sorry, love, you’re not sleeping tonight.”

you blink your eyes in turn with the cicadas chirping aside, stifling a yawn. everything around you down to the very last detail screams at you to sleep, but you just cannot. from the pitch black night that floods the room obscurely, to gojo’s even and quiet breathing beside you. you’ve tried it all. you’ve counted an excess amount of sheep, you’ve tensed and relaxed your body more than you can remember. hell, no matter how many times you’ve flipped the pillow you always seemed to feel less exhausted each time.

you can’t watch netflix, because you’ve binged all your favourite shows. it’s not that you’d wake gojo up because, who cares? by the time you finish scrolling through the endless lists it’ll be time to get up.

you ponder over the things you can do, continuing to subconsciously blink furiously. that is until gojo makes note of your stupid actions and starts giggling like a high schooler at his first sleepover.

“what the hell are you doing?” he snorts, cackling into the pillow like it’s the best joke he’s heard for quite some time.

“shut up, satoru. i’m trying to sleep you ass.” you tut at him, berating him for ruining your divine concentration.

gojo audibly shifts onto his stomach, his right arm crosses over the back of his head as he lazily rests his palm onto his scalp. the other arm preoccupies itself by landing it smack bang onto your chest, fingers wandering up to cup your breast.

“satoru, huh? that’s daddy for ya” he remarks, still giggling in a state of half asleep.

“uh-huh. goodnight.” you dismiss him and his nonsense.

“just go take a shower. always helps me whenever i can’t sleep.”

“hm? you’re giving me actual good advice and being a normal boyfriend? i think i might be asleep already, this is the best dream ever.” you remark sarcastically, prying gojo’s glued wrist off of your breast and sitting up. you could go for a shower, actually. you’re not sure why but it’s always so therapeutic to take one at night rather than the morning.

“huuuh? how could you say that? you’re so mean, (y/n)-chaan! i offered you my love and the world and this is how you repay m-“

“-goodnight satoru. i love you.”

“don’t think professing your love for me will change my mind! i’m still upset at you right now, young lady!” gojo shouts from over his pillow, exclaiming and irritating you in the way he knows how to best.

“yeah, yeah. okay.” you mumble softly to yourself, bearing a wide grin from ear to ear nonetheless.

when you move to crank the water on in the shower, you realise that you didn’t bring along a change of clothes. you momentarily pop back into the bedroom to ransack the drawer for anything that you can find.

“are you back to apologise for being so mean to me?” gojo whines and you can see the pout evident on him even when it’s pitch black.

“no, i’m just here for clothes, satoru.”

you hear him mumble something but it’s muffled by the sheets he’s underneath so you don’t heed any attention to it and resume in taking a shower to help keep your insomnia at bay.

with a ginger step and a small ‘oopf’, you heave yourself into the large shower that only a headass like gojo would bother buying. it’s reminiscent to what a hot tub looks like on the inside, with surrounding jets practically in a full 360 degrees. the things so steep that there’s a small step up in front of the shower outside the actual structure. it must have cost quite the fortune.

you reach in for the built in shelf to grab ahold of some of your toiletries as you allow the water to fall in a gentle sprinkle, almost like rain. there’s an audible squeeze reminiscent to trying to get the last ounces of ketchup as you apply some body gel to your hands, lathering it up.

despite standing, the warmth of the water leads your muscles to feel less tense. the only noteworthy downside is that the running water is tremendously loud. how on earth is gojo sleeping through all that racket?

slender fingertips ghost over your inner thighs. you can feel his wet and sturdy chest in place against your spine.

“surprised to see me?”

“you know i can’t let my baby talk shit like that.”

really? that’s his issue at hand here?

“so which is it?”

“acting like an intolerant brat because you’re tired or ‘cause you wanna get dicked down?”

gojo loops his arm underneath your leg, bending it up. you almost topple over in the process and you lay one hand flat against the tile.

“don’t answer that. sometimes it’s so obvious that you’re such a whore for my dick.”

“huh?! what the shit are you saying?” you snap at how correct he is.

gojo yanks your face back, digging his fingers into your cheeks as he forces you to face him. it almost sends your neck into two pieces, straining to look back at him.

“oh, really princess? just the other day you were begging me to fuck you”

“remember that? couldn’t wait so you rode me in the car? you know, baby, all you gotta do is ask.”

your legs tremble and psyche wobbles when he pries your mouth open with his thumb, promptly before spitting into it.

“don’t bother with the bullshit. i’ll play the games, not you.”

he drags his hard cock against the curve of your ass, slapping it against you.

“i don’t think i feel like fuckin’ you right now.” gojo sneers, humming sardonically. his lips quickly latch onto yours when you spin around to meet his gaze. like the fucker he is, gojo moans and whines into the kiss- lips ravaging you whole and tongue capturing your essence.

“baby girl, i was gonna let you top me. you know i don’t let anyone do that.”

his long middle finger prods against your cunt, forcing itself in with ease.

“damn, you’re soaked. you really wanted to milk me dry that bad?”

you hate him. hate him so fucking bad. he flashes you that attractive smile of his, azure eyes sparkling and snow white hair disturbed with water.

gojo pulls his finger out before sucking onto it in front of you, lapping all the excess arousal off.

“i’m not playing with you tonight.”

toji

- i literally don’t even need to say anything here

- just be sure to make a hospital check up appointment or something

- um-i uh- please remember to breathe after this one? maybe touch some grass? ALSO my first time writing for toji AAA i hope he’s okay

maybe if you don’t breathe? nah, that wouldn’t work. there’s still air acting around your limbs when you move so you’d be disturbing the barriers there. let’s see… maybe bit by bit? surely if you slowly inched his shirt up? then again, wouldn’t toji chew you out halfway through? maybe you should just give it to him straight up? just slip your hand under his shirt. come on. but he looks so peaceful, sleeping like that.. long eyelashes fluttered closed, lips relaxed and not scowling. his eyebrows are softly arched. he looks so soft, lips parted, chest rising and falling with every breath.

fuck it. just do it. cuddle him already.

you muster up all your courage in one fell swoop and you bend one leg over toji, resting it just above his groin. your right arm sprawls out over his chest and your hand rests against his toned arm. he’s already sleeping with one arm bent up with his hand supporting the back of his head, so you utilise the free real estate to nestle your head in the crook of where his shoulder and collarbone meet.

when he doesn’t move after a while, you deem your life to be safe and exhale with ease.

“you’re not asleep.” toji states in a groggy, husky tone. it’s supposed to be a question, but, coming from him it almost sounds like a challenge.

“yes?” you squeak out meekly.

“‘yes?’ you asleep or not?”

“i can’t sleep again.” you murmur against his shirt and he exhales a small sigh. the arm that you’re clinging onto moves to draw small circles on your thigh that rests on toji.

“when’d you notice?” you inquire, glancing down at his large wrists.

“like five minutes ago. nice try, kid.” toji snorts indifferently, chuckling at your behaviour.

when you don’t make an effort to respond, toji’s interest peaks and he lets out a small hum of intrigue when he follows your gaze.

he turns his head, brushing his lips up against your temples.

“see anything interesting down there?”

“as a matter of fact-“

you nestle yourself in between toji’s large and built thighs, digits curling around the waistband of his boxers. he only smirks at you through the dark, cock twitching through the fabric. you notice toji hover his hips up so that you can slide his boxers off for him and you happily oblige.

“-i do.” you chime, licking your lips.

it’s cute, though, if you thought toji was gonna let you handle him like that all by yourself.

as you kiss a trail up his thick shaft, toji yanks ahold fistfuls of your hair before grabbing your face off of his cock.

“who said you could suck my dick? that’s real cute.”

“thinking you actually have a place in my house.”

“i didn’t train you to be such a depraved slut. know your fucking place, because this isn’t it.”

“how many times do i gotta tell you? you don’t belong here. look around. do you see anything that shows a woman lives here? no? that’s because you’re nothing but a fuck doll for me.”

toji hisses out profanities at the gag you spew when he slams your tiny little mouth back down on his dick.

“lose the teeth you imbecile. unless you’re trying to tell me that you can’t suck my dick properly.”

incessant whines and garbled sentences are muffled by toji’s cock. whatever remnants you had of your vision are nothing but a blur as tears stream your cheeks, nose running and sniffles resurface in a repeating pattern over the slick sounds of slurping and gagging. your mouth stretches as far as it can go and the corners of your lips shriek in despair. you can feel the skin there stretch and pull beyond what’s considered normal.

even through all that, you manage to glance up at toji through your water logged lashes. you’ll be a good girl for him. you need to be.

“fuuuck. that’s a pretty sight.” he grumbles and a deep chuckle resonates through his chest. within a few moments, toji fumbles to reach for something.

you can only wince and screw your eyes at the suddenly blinding flash of a light in front of you. one can only assume he’s taken a photo of you in your humiliating state.

you can feel the fear settle into your veins when that telltale ping of a message being sent vibrates throughout the room. if you were to listen hard enough, you could hear a notification go off in the next room over.

your throat feels raw, jaw tense and locked open. it’s been a good twenty minutes of toji face fucking you to teach you a valid lesson. it’s all in the will of him wanting to drag this on, savouring every miniscule slurp, whimper or gasp. when his strokes start to feel sloppier than usual, you can’t help but feel relieved.

as you squirm about due to toji shooting hot ropes of his thick cum down your throat, the door softly clicks open.

“megumi. you’re just in time.”

“she’s way more obedient than your mom ever used to be.”

[fandom-scatteredthoughtsonpaper]

Hi hi! i think you said asks were open in your newest post? If not feel free to ignore this lol

I would love to see headcannons of an MC who, though acting brave, gets very scared of the brothers

example after lucifer and the grimoire and such? like MC slowly becomes MORE scared of them, and tries to hide it, but it's getting obvious that theyre scared if that makes sense lol 💖

Ahhhhh, sorry this took longer than it necessarily should have! I feel like I was much closer to what you wanted with this request than the other, so hopefully you'll enjoy it too ❤️

GN MC THAT PROGRESSIVELY FEARS THE BROTHERS

Living with demons is hard, especially when they're the rulers of hell, err, the Devildom.

Sure, there's the implication they're not supposed to hurt or do anything harmful to you, as you have the safety of being an exchange student, but that veil of ignorance was quickly lifted before even the two week mark of living with these brothers.

You've tried getting along with them, and for the most part you've been successful, but a few circumstances have arisen that have reminded you that these boys are dangerous demons... and you're the human that keeps poking the three-headed dog while it sleeps.

Mammon:

You're not so much scared of what Mammon could physically do, but you're paranoid that he goes into your room and rummages in your belongings and personal keepsakes. Your room is the only thing you have that you can claim as your own, and it's your sanctuary, despite it being in the brothers' house.

Of course, the brothers will periodically just barge in without alerting you by asking or knocking, but you've grown okay with that. You're at least in your room and able to see what they do in there. There are a few occasions Levi or Satan might mention going into your bedroom to retrieve a video game or book they had loaned you, but you make sure to put their item on the dresser by the entrance, so they don't have to venture too far in. You're okay with that.

You're not okay, however, with Mammon when he goes into your room unannounced. Hell, you're not totally comfortable with him being in your room unattended if he does give you a heads-up.

You know how kleptomaniac Mammon can be. You've heard enough complaints and stories to know how relentless Mammon can be in his search for anything that could give him a few Grimm from his brothers. You've talked with this greedy demon about items he's stolen, witnessed thefts a few times too.

So, you feel something akin to victimized when Mammon goes into your room without your permission or you being there. Your room emits this vibe of disturbance, and it bothers you because you don't know what might be missing or "borrowed". It troubles you more because now your room feels foreign again, like the atmosphere was plagued by essences that you know aren't yours. Your anxiety swells with paranoia, fear, and mistrust again.

Leviathan:

Oh, for the most part, you don't have much conflict with Levi anymore. Once you made a pact with the otaku demon he relaxed a lot more and invited you to hang out in his room to play games or fuss about animation qualities in animes or gush about his favorite manga characters.

It's just that after that contest of who was the bigger TSL fan and Levi, enveloped by jealousy and fury, came at you with the intent to seriously harm you, you've had this overly-suspicious fear in the back of your mind, itching your paranoia that it could happen again.

You've learned that Levi's demon form is easily triggered by extreme feelings, rather that's excitement, irritability, or the emotion he avatars over, and you can't help be irritationally cautious when that happens. It's a reflex from the panic that engraved itself into your psyche for self-preservation.

If you weren't so anxious about another envy-fueled incident involving your life you might find Levi's excitement for the stuff he loves more endearing and cute.

Beelzebub:

If you hadn't seen how destructive Beel's tantrums over food firsthand could be you might find it hard to believe this relaxed and mostly uninvolved brother would have such a temper... but you did experience it, so you do believe it.

It was a custard! They're so easy to get more of, but Beel immediately flew off the handle and wouldn't see reasoning, lashing out and destroying the kitchen. If Mammon hadn't pulled you down with him to the floor as Beel started his outraged tantrum you're positive you would have been collateral damage too, like your poor room that was unfortunately placed on the other side of the kitchen wall.

It was a terrifying sight to behold, seeing the kitchen torn asunder and reduced to broken walls, obliterated cabinets, and smashed counters, with kitchen utensils and ruined cookware being sent into flight and raining down, razor-sharp and shattered into broken edges that could easily pierce flesh.

That moment of destruction lingers, along with the intense emotion of fright, triggered whenever Beel complains about being hungry or when he meets your gaze at the table during times to eat. You immediately offer your unfinished plate to him, which he happily accepts and consumes in seconds, to appease the Avatar of Gluttony's temper.

Asmodeus:

Asmo's promiscuity and salaciousness are what unnerve you the most. He's the Avatar of Lust, so obviously you were already on your defense, but you've seen glimpses beyond the surface level to what Asmo can be like. That's what intrigues you about him, and you try to focus on those bits that slip past his perfectionistic lifestyle and narcissistic personality. At the same time, however, this is the cause of your near downfalls when Asmo tries to allure you with his physical prowess.

He's tried a few times to charm you, and you feel this invasive power trying to persuade you to give into your raw and sexual temptations, or this tugging sensation that tries to attract you beyond what you feel is comfortable. The repulsed response is usually what repels you from the power Asmo tries to flaunt over you.

He usually huffs after his failed attempt but quickly rebounds by placing his hands around you and trying to embrace you himself, which Mammon, prompted by his denied feelings and jealousy, usually intercepts in your honor.

There's a few times you've worried yourself nauseous Asmo will corner you, and you won't be able to save yourself from his lustful persuasion. There's also the couple of times he's mentioned eating your heart, so that's also worrisome.

Satan:

There's no questions that you secretly fear Satan, more specifically his wrath. You slighted him once before, and the threat he imposed upon you while you were trapped between his demonic form and an over-stuffed bookcase was enough to brand itself to your soul as a reminder.

As docile as Satan may appear with his affection for cats, deep interest for detective shows, and shared affinity of books he could and, possibly, would rip you apart and lavish in the blood that wept from your lacerated flesh and tension of your bones rebelling before snapping satisfactory in halves and thirds.

Other than that, Satan is much easier to hang out with compared to his brothers, except when he gets that cruel temperament to torment Lucifer, which you exempt yourself from if the pranks are too excessive.

Belphegor:

Terror has never seeped into your soul like this before. Your anxiety spikes to levels you've never experienced before when Belphie plops down next to you on the couch or tries to start up a conversation. Your fight, flight, freeze, or fawn system goes haywire, and you become petrified, unable to respond properly.

You either stay away from Belphie altogether or stay glued to one of the other brothers, Mammon or Beel preferably. Just in case.

Just in case Belphie's lament arises again in the form of murderous hate, gleeful contempt clouding his eyes, as his hands find their way to your neck that remembers the tight embrace his fingers engraved into the nerves of your throat, the ghostly suffocating that chokes you up sometimes if you become too immersed in the memory of a body that hadn't belonged to you.

You're also sure you remember an aching in your ribs and spine that causes you to shiver sometimes, but you're not sure if you experienced that in a dream or illusion of the timeline merging. It still bothers you all the same.

For such a sweet face and quiet voice, Belphie is a demon that decieves, and you're better off staying away from him until you're over your PTSD. If that's possible.

Lucifer:

How many times has he almost killed you? Twice or three times? Enough to be too many and to penetrate your core with panic and trepidation whenever you see that sly smile that forms on his lips. It doesn't have to be directed at you, but it's enough to launch you into a panic attack that you barely keep under control.

That safety guard of being a representative from the human world and exchange student mean nothing when you test it by being a busybody in affairs that definitely don't involve you over and over again, especially when it's the pride and dignity of Lucifer being tested.

You hear your lesson but never learn, and unconsciously you must be masochistic for how many times you've brushed death with Lucifer's anger, but you keep pushing the limits.

You can't help going to Mammon's defense when you feel Lucifer is only targeting him for personal reasons or standing up to his ego when you feel he's going over his limits. Your bravery is stupidity though, and you feel your courageous backbone turn into a central nerve system of adrenaline and fear. You're just too stubborn and self-righteous to let Lucifer do as he pleases, but that doesn't mean you're not scared out of your wits.

You've gained an intuition for when Lucifer is approaching or silently comes up from behind you, and it sends a shiver down your back almost every time you're alone together.

If you have any headcanons that you want me to write, please send them my way! I enjoy writing these out. NSFW is okay, but please know I might not do it if I don’t like it. ❤️

[babyybitchhh]

Law x Reader 18+

Rating: Explicit/R-18+

Words: 6,653

Warnings: sexual roleplay, sex work, excessive/rough breast play, vaginal sex, creampie, set in Wano but honestly I just took advantage of that unknown period when they first arrived, chubby reader

A/N: It's okay, Law doesn't need to use condoms. He's a doctor. : )

♥♥♥♥

“Well, how do I look?”

Head coming up, Law glances over from his spot on the tatami and ire immediately flashes through stormy gray eyes. But you pretend not to notice as you turn in the doorway, letting him see the back of your kimono with its neatly tied bow and the flowing long sleeves that had delighted you when you’d first glimpsed the style of dress in this country.

Truth be told, you were really quite pleased with yourself.

Particularly after Kinemon had assured you it was a lovely choice for the role you were to take in Wano; that of a maid servant working at the finest brothel in the capital where you were sure to overhear plenty of hush hush information the others might not likewise be privy to. The place was frequented by big wig politicians, powerful samurai and members of the ruling Kurozumi faction, according to him, which meant you would be playing an integral part in the plan going forward.

You were glad for it, eager to be of some use in the coming battle to overthrow the shogunate since such an opportunity very rarely presented itself to non combatants like you.

But when you turn back around, beaming expectantly only to find Law glaring across the room, your shoulders quickly droop in defeat. “What? You don’t like it?”

Rather than directly answering the question, he scoffs and looks away. “You’re supposed to be blending in with the people of this country, not standing out like a sore thumb.”

You guffaw, glancing down at yourself. “What do you mean? Everyone’s wearing clothes like this!”

“That’s not the problem.”

“Then what is?”

Try as you might, you just couldn’t figure out what he was finding issue with here. The rich silk print wrapped around your body was understated, not nearly as intricate or attention grabbing as those of the oiran you would soon be waiting on, but that didn’t make it any less elegant. In fact, you’d thought for sure he would like it for just that reason.

The monochrome base with its bursts of color in the form of vibrant, blooming red and pink chrysanthemums had struck you as something he would appreciate for its simple yet undeniable beauty. He’d picked out his own clothes in similar fashion, going with a basic black and white kimono and a relatively plain yet stylish jittoko to wear over top so you weren’t really sure what made your outfit any different.

They were practically one and the same - and you tell him as much when you step across the room, fully prepared to fight him on this.

But as soon as you're close enough, Law reaches out to snag your wrist and he yanks you down on the floor with him. You draw a sharp breath as your knees hit the woven mat, quickly jerking your attention up only to choke on whatever you were going to say when he crowds into your space with that steely eyed frown he was known for.

“W - what?”

“It’s not the same.” He intones, low and unamused. “I’m going to be playing a traveling monk with my face covered. You’ll be working in the red light district. There’s a world of difference here.”

You start to ask him to elaborate, because you just weren’t seeing it, but stop yourself short when the answer abruptly clicks into place.

Oh.

So it was like that.

“Could it be … you’re feeling a little possessive, maybe?”

Law barks out a quick laugh, making your cheeks warm. “And why would that be?”

“I don’t know!” You blurt, embarrassed. “Even if you’re not serious about this - about us, I just thought you might be getting sort of ... jealous, thinking about other men looking at me that way. I guess.”

“You’re not mine to feel possessive about, sweetheart. You know that.”

Too well, in fact; you think as you turn your face away to hide the hurt you were sure he’d find staring back at him.

He's quick to reach out and grab under your chin though, manually turning you back around. “Don’t pout. You volunteered for this job.”

“I just wanted to be useful …”

“You are useful.” He murmurs, the pitch of his voice dropping an octave, intentionally or not, to send static racing down your spine. “Don’t you worry about that. I have a solution that I think will satisfy both of us, though.”

“O - oh?”

Without missing a beat, Law snakes his arm behind him, grabs the tengai sitting at his knee and brings it forward so he can unceremoniously plop it down on top of your head. You squawk, hands flying up to grab the hat which basically amounted to little more than a straw basket and, therefore, should have been easy to remove. But the hand he still had resting on top of the damned thing kept it firmly in place no matter how you pushed at it and you outright seethe when you catch the slightly muffled sound of his smug, snickering laughter.

“Law, you ass! Stop!”

He hadn’t even had the decency to put it on the right way! The slats were facing out at the back of your skull and you couldn’t see anything except warm light bleeding in through the woven textiles.

“But if you wear this,” he tells you in a sobered yet no less amused tone. “I won’t have to worry about horny old perverts looking at you too much.”

“I swear I’m gonna’ - -“ You stammer to a halt, suddenly realizing what he’d said. “So you are jealous that other men might look at me!”

“Mm. Jealous isn’t the word I would use, personally.”

“Oh, then what hell would - -“

You cut yourself off with a flustered gasp when his unoccupied hand abruptly winds around your waist and finds the bow Kinemon had tirelessly struggled to fasten your obi in. He tugs at it, gently at first, and then more forcefully when it doesn’t give. With a click of his tongue, so close to your basketed head that you couldn’t miss it, Law adjusts his grip and feels around for the weak point in the knot. Once located, his long, dexterous fingers make quick work of loosening it with a soft slither of silk that makes you shudder for him and lean into the heat of his body.

The amount of sway he held over you just wasn’t fair.

“Do we really have to do this … with the hat on?”

Obi successfully undone, he starts to unwind it from around your waist one slow loop at a time.

“If I have it my way,” he says quietly. “This is the closest you’ll ever get to having anonymous sex. So the answer is, yes.”

The implication of what he was saying had you running hot, and not just in arousal. “I won’t sleep with any of the men at the brothel, you know.” You tell him tersely.

“I’m sure you won’t, but just in case you ever wonder what it would be like …”

His hand finds your shoulder as soon as the ridiculously long band of fabric is pooled between both of your laps; gentle but commanding in the way he pushes you down to lay out on the floor. You comply, though not without a soft whimper at the uniquely strange pitter patter in your suddenly tight chest.

It’s not that you didn’t understand what he was doing here.

Giving you a taste of what it would be like on the off chance hearing the girlish moans in the next room over ever sparked your interest, so you’d think back on this moment and remember how good he was at fucking you into a blissed out stupor. As if you could ever forget.

But, still, it seemed he wanted you to go into this with that knowledge fresh in your mind. And if it was the thrill of anonymity you wanted, he was clearly happy to oblige in that too. The fact he cared about something so silly, enough to remind you with a hands on demonstration, warmed you from the inside out in a way that little else ever had. He may not have admitted it in quite so many words, but this was possessive behavior if you’d ever seen it.

Admittedly pleased by this turn of events, you lay back with your arms splayed across the tatami mats and feel him move close to hover over you. Bracing a hand on the floor, he begins to carefully part the layers of your kimono with the other, one at a time, while you stare up at the inside of his tengai. You badly wanted to reach up and slip it off your head, or at least spin it around the right way so you could glimpse him through the slats, but you choose to refrain. If not because you were sure he’d just find a way to secure it until he was finished making his point then certainly because you were curious to see how far he would take this.

Law clearly felt something more towards you than just baser lust and general irritation, and that excited you almost as much as his hands on you did.

“To answer your earlier question,” he drawls, gently nudging you back into the here and now. “You look good in these clothes. Almost frustratingly so, actually.”

You gulp down the butterflies dancing in your throat and try your hardest not to smile, even though he couldn’t see it either way. “Really?”

“I wouldn’t have said it otherwise, silly girl.” His long fingers finally find the nagajuban, the last flimsy barrier separating you from him, and Law noises a brief sound of anticipation as he descends upon it.

A sedate shudder ripples down your spine while he makes casual work of spreading the robe open around you, your nipples immediately puckering when the cool air hits them. It makes you twitch and arch for him, squirming fitfully on your impromptu bed of silk; but he doesn’t stop long enough to pay it any mind and you have to bite back a groan when he somewhat callously palms your breasts with broad hands.

He isn’t as soft with you as he usually is. Not quite so preoccupied with prioritizing your pleasure over his own, and the almost greedy way he kneads at your chest serves its purpose in making you feel like a properly casual encounter. Something to vent his frustrations and nothing more.

You’d like to say it was off putting and that you didn’t like being handled so indifferently, but that would have been a bold faced lie. You were rapidly growing hot under his attention - tipping your head back inside the tengai to mewl out a whine when he bends down and eagerly seals his mouth around one stiff nipple without any of the slow buildup you were accustomed to. You were entirely at his mercy like this, in this particular role, and Law’s affinity for your breasts quickly makes itself known in the form of rough, enthusiastic sucking and nibbling that was perhaps just a little too sharply applied for it to be pleasurable.

But it wasn’t for you that he was doing this, so he takes his time indulgently suckling at the teat in his mouth until you finally whimper and twist underneath him. He comes up at the noise, leaving the tip of your breast feeling sore and unbearably coiled in the scant space that separates the shallow rise and fall of your chest from his. The tight bud gives a muted throb in the aftermath, the ache of it just edging your peripheral, and he chuckles when you squeeze doughy thighs together, rubbing them.

“Oh? You like that, do you?”

You can practically hear the roguish smirk in his tone, and your face goes hot behind the woven barrier. He knew your body well enough to recognize a sound of genuine pleasure from one of tender pain, but you don’t get the chance to correct him before the rough pad of his finger abruptly swipes over the swell of your breast. Sure and steady, it follows the natural curve of it right up to the straining nipple in the center which he delivers a sharp flick to, making you twitch and whine. The heat pooling in your gut seemed to suggest it wasn’t entirely disagreeable but you weren’t used to such indelicate treatment, not from him, and you positively writhe when he palms the weight of it in his hand again.

“My, what a sensitive little minx I’ve invited into my bed. I can already tell you’re going to be worth every penny.”

Understanding immediately dawns and you bite down on your lower lip to keep quiet as he switches his attention to the opposite tit, pinching the meat of it firmly enough to make pliable flesh spill out between his fingers. You shudder at the way he guides the puckered tip to his mouth with a sense of slow, savory anticipation, warm breath wafting against your skin moments before his lips close around it. Issuing a hazy groan, you curl your hands into the fabric laid out underneath you and arch, pushing your chest up to meet him halfway. If it was a sweetly compliant mistress of the night he expected you to play, then that was what you were going to give him.

“Mmm, you’re good at this, mister.” You murmur softly, still embarrassed to be saying it even with your resolve, and he snorts.

“Yeah? Don’t try to flatter me, sweetheart, I’m sure you say that to all the John’s.”

He goes up then and sits back on his knees, both arms stretched out across your body to cup and fondle the weight of your breasts with that same intense focus as before. A puff of air stutters out of you when he slowly drags the blunt of his thumbs over stiff points, making your pussy clench with a sympathetic flutter. Everything felt somehow that much more intense without the use of your sight and it takes every ounce of willpower you possess not to reach up and grab ahold of his bony wrists when he finally pinches one tightly coiled bud between two of his fingers.

“Nggh, w - … wait!” You mewl, your breath coming quicker when even something as simple as that makes your gut twist hard enough to leave you aching for him.

Chidingly tutting at you, Law makes a casual show of teasing your swollen nipple to straining attention while his other hand kneads the opposite breast like a happy feline earnestly fluffing it’s favorite pillow. That is to say, rather aggressively.

“Sorry, but you don’t get to tell a paying customer what to do. That’s part of the deal,” he informs you politely enough, but the reprimand itself as well as the pressure on your tit still makes you wince. “You’re mine for the night, so we’re going to do whatever it is I want. That’s what we agreed on, isn’t it?”

“... yes.”

“Good girl.” He breathes out, palming both of your tits now to squeeze them. “Stay nice and sweet for me, and I just might leave you a handsome tip when I’m done. How’s that sound, hm?”

You give your head a stilted nod before recalling that he probably couldn’t see it. “I … I’d like that very much, mister.”

“Then you had better make sure you behave yourself. I won’t give you anything extra if I don’t think you deserve it. You need to earn it. Do you understand?”

“Mm, yes … yes, I understand.”

“Good to hear.”

Giving the swell of your tits a bitingly rough pinch, Law slowly drags his palms down so that rough calluses scrape over your sensitized nipples. You can’t quite stop from crying out when the two buds give meaty little jostles in the wake of his hands, so puffy and engorged now that they felt achingly tender to the touch. He seems satisfied by the lack of protest though, and he pauses long enough to give them both another taunting tweak before trailing lower, sharp fingertips dancing across your stomach.

“You have the perfect body for this, you know.” He says, almost casually offhand. “Soft in all the right places and so very inviting. The kind of body anyone could lose themselves in, if given the chance. I’m sure you’re quite popular.”

“Mm’ not …”

Scoffing quietly, he splays his hands wide across your stomach and rubs the soft pudge there before dragging them around to squeeze at plushy lovehandles that seem to mold into his palms. You whimper at the avid attention to your body, even though you really should have been used to it by now, but he doesn’t say anything to scold you for it like some men otherwise might have. Law was more inclined to showing rather than telling, after all, and he responds instead by bringing his hands forward so he can press your thighs open for him to settle between.

“You know I don’t buy that, sweetheart. How could anyone with a working cock pass up the chance to have a pretty little pussy like this all to themselves, huh? You look like you’d just suck me right in.”

His spindly fingers dip into the space between your legs and find plump, velvety lips, slowly pressing in and spreading them apart so he can get a good, long look at you. Choking at the sensation, your thighs tense and flex as if to close him out but you stop yourself from acting on the urge with a tiny, faltering mewl. Your face is on fire behind his hat while you make do with twisting on the floor instead - your hands balling into tight little fists with layers of kimono clenched in them as you try to decide if you should happily offer him your cunt or tell him to stop. It was a surprisingly hard choice to make when he had you so vulnerably exposed like this.

“M - mister … please, you’re embarrassing me!”

“Am I now?” He chuckles faintly, making you flush even hotter. “We’ll just have to fix that then, won’t we?”

Your breath catches in your throat when you feel Law sit back on his haunches again, those long fingers of his still keeping you spread open for him. Trying to brace for what was coming next quickly proves to be an effort in futility when he crowds his other hand in with the first and presses down on your clit with expert precision, rubbing smooth little circles into it. A startled sound of pleasure erupts out of you even as your body goes ramrod stiff, the sensitive nub giving a receptive throb under featherlight pressure which prompts you to angle your hips up in search of more.

He laughs in response to the needy display, unhurriedly adjusting the position of his hand so he can flick at your clit with a slow, steady back and forth of his finger until you finally twitch and writhe, just as he wanted.

“Hmph. Pretty girl. You look good when you squirm for me like that, but I’m sure you’ll look even better when you’re squirming on my cock here in a minute.”

You let out a frazzled, sucker punched sound and twist on the floor, making your heavy tits bounce and jiggle with the jerky motion. “Please … I want it!”

“What do you want, sweetheart? Tell me.”

“N - ngh … I want - want your cock …”

Humming faintly, Law picks up the pace of his finger, battering your clit from both sides, and you almost come up off the floor with a strangled, gasping wheeze. “I didn’t quite catch that, I’m afraid. Would you like to try again?”

“Your cock! I want your cock, La - - haah, m - mister! Please put it in …”

“You’ll have to be a bit more specific. Do you want it in your mouth? Or perhaps your ass …”

You shake your head so wildly that the tengai slips up just enough for you to feel a rush of fresh air assaulting the lower half of your face, but you hardly think anything of it in your quickly mounting desperation. You didn’t need to see - you needed to feel him inside you, stretching your guts to capacity.

“No, no please, mister, not there! I want it in my pussy! Please stick it in my pussy and fuck me stupid with your cock! I p - promise I’ll be good!”

At that Law sucks in a sharp, heated breath, letting it back out in a rumbling low groan as his finger drops away from your clit to swipe through the copious slick oozing out of you, testing your wetness.

“Ooh, what a damn good girl you are. You’ll have me coming back for more, if you’re not careful. Would you like that? Do you want to share my bed again?”

“Yuh - yes! I want you to fuck me lots and lots …”

A mildly flustered sigh slips out of him, sending a brief touch of ghostly fingertips across your inflamed skin to make you tremble and shake, still so sensitive even now. “How could I ever say ‘no’ to that, huh? You’ll gladly be the ruin of me at this rate …”

He leans all the way back then, big hands retreating from your body with a deliberate sense of action. You’re left flushed and sprawled out on the floor, dizzily blinking through the needy haze that’s come over your punch drunk mind when you catch the sound of rustling fabric directly in front of you. You think to tip your head down, peering along the length of your nose, and a certain amount of surprise washes over you when you realize you can see something other than just the inside of the basket.

Past the shallow rise and fall of your chest and the soft swell of your stomach, you catch a glimpse of him moving between your bent and splayed legs. He was already naked, his borrowed kimono shrugged off and discarded; sizable cock jutting proudly into the space between you two and leaking a glistening bead of precum. You still couldn’t see Law’s face when the rim of the woven hat was taking up a good majority of your line of sight - just up to about the midway point of his waist - but that only seemed to heighten the feigned sense of anonymity in this situation.

Choking down a much needed gulp of air, you watch as if in a trance while he finishes getting himself situated and reaches out to hook his hands under your knees. Spreading them further apart and then folding them towards your chest allows him to shuffle even closer and settle the fronts of his thighs against your upturned ass, tilting your pelvis up at him in the process. He lets one leg settle beside his narrow hip so he can snake a hand into the now scant space between you two where he gives himself a few savory pumps before guiding the glans to your waiting cunt.

“L - Law!” You gasp, close to delirious at the feverish scene unfolding right in front of you.

“Hmm? Am I not ‘mister’ anymore?” He teases, slowly drawing the head of his cock up and down your slit to coat it in sticky arousal, the soft nudge against your clit on every steady stroke making your hips twitch in anticipation. “I kind of liked the sound of it, to be honest with you. Maybe I should have you call me that more often.”

In a daze, you reach down as if to grab for him but stop yourself short at the last second when you abruptly recall your assigned role here. Fingers twisting in frustration, you ball them up into fists against your lower stomach only to blush red hot at the way he chuckles, faintly laughing at you. You have to fight to keep your eyes open when you want nothing more than to screw them shut, embarrassed, and a quiet whine rises in the back of your throat as you watch Law purposefully guide himself to your entrance. He applies just enough pressure for you to feel the blunt head pressing into you, barely, but not enough to sink in yet, and your toes excitedly curl in the air, eager for the sear of penetration.

“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He murmurs, drawing your attention away from what’s going on between your legs. “You don’t have to hold back. I doubt you’ll be able to keep it up, anyway.”

You don’t need to be told twice, and you quickly snag your fingers around his wrists as he latches on to your other leg again, digging his fingers into pillowy soft flesh to keep them spread. Noticeably holding the air in his lungs now, Law leans his weight into you and the glans slowly breaches the first ring of muscle with an intoxicatingly delicious rush of friction that has you instantly shaking for him.

He pushes in deeper and deeper, ever so slowly, making sure you feel each individual inch that penetrates you at that tortuously staggered pace. Your eyes start to roll back before he’s even fully seated inside you, and you eventually let out some sort of desperate, wounded animal noise when he finally slides home a small eternity later.

He lets out the breath he’d been holding in a stuttering rush and it seems to rattle through his narrow chest while he takes his time grinding the sharp planes of his pelvis into the plushy give of yours. The coarse but neat thatch of curls at the base of him scratches and tickles, leaving a burning trail in their wake as you gratefully jut your cunt up into the pressure, plaintively asking for more. He felt so good inside you. He always felt so good.

“Nngh … please, Law! Please make me cum on - on your cock, please … I’ve been good …”

“You have.” He agrees, at last angling his hips back until you fear he would slip right out only to push inside again at that same frustratingly slow pace. “You’re a good girl, when you want to be. You know I’ll always reward you for a job well done, don’t you?”

You offer a quick nod, breathless, as you try to crane your neck up to get a better look at where his cock was sedately gliding in and out of you, but it only makes the tengai slide back down into place. Realizing you were once again without sight, you screw your eyes shut and groan bitterly as you toss your head back.

“T - that’s why I wanted to be useful for you …!”

Feeling him hunch over you, and rather suddenly at that, you tense when the slight change in position increases the pressure of him inside your guts. Your mouth warbles open as if to groan but nothing comes out, and genuine surprise rapidly floods the forefront of your mind when he grabs the top of the hat and pulls it off, making you blink owlishly in the suddenly bright room.

“I figured as much when you volunteered for a role as risky as it is potentially invaluable. You’re not a fighter, so it was fairly obvious you had a motive.” Fixing you with a sly smirk, he tosses the tengai aside and settles more squarely on his knees. Picking up the force behind his thrusts, now perfectly angled to drive into your upper wall and attack the tightly clustered nerves on the other side, Law clutches at you all the more fervently until you’re positive you’ll find bruises in the morning. “But I trust you … I know you’ll do a good job, sweetheart. You always do.”

Letting out a series of whimpering groans, you push up on your elbows so you can flick your attention between his glistening wet cock as it drives into you and his handsomely pinched face. “Then w - aah - what was all that b - before … you ass?”

He offers you a tersely clipped laugh. “Just a bit of fun, mostly.”

“Such a … nngh, such a jerk …”

Chuckling under his breath, Law lets up his hold on your legs in favor of sliding broad palms across your stomach, calluses scraping, to get a good grip on plushy hips. You respond with a low groan as you struggle upright so you can get your hands under you and push up, slanting your pelvis down to meet his leisurely thrusts tit for tat. The hushed sound of skin meeting skin picks up in the old room, otherwise silent besides the soft moans and faltering breaths coming from the two of you.

It was unexpectedly nice, given the circumstances.

“Yes, right t - there … haah, so good, you feel so good, Law. God, don’t stop …”

“You know I won’t,” he rumbles, possessively squeezing your sides in a pinching tight grip so he can guide you into a more energetic bouncing motion that has your heavy tits bouncing for him. “But I meant what I said earlier … any man would be a fool to pass up a night with you. I’m sure you’ll be quite popular in the brothel.”

You shake your head, sucking in a faltering gasp. “I don’t c - care … I only want you …”

“How reassuring …”

A shaky groan puffs out of him and the sound races straight to your cunt, making you clench around the stiff cock relentlessly carving out a space within you. Your subconscious reaction only seems to make him dig up into your sweet spot all the more insistently and, seething, you close your eyes, dropping your chin to your chest. You could feel the coil inside you slowly tightening just that little bit more each time he slid up inside you, making your toes curl while you struggled just to keep up with the pace he wanted.

Your legs and arms were quickly growing tired though and, with a soft, whining plea, you lift one of your hands to reach for him. Law catches on quick as usual, immediately letting go of your hips so he can curl one arm under your armpit and across your shoulder blades. With very little effort on his part, he hauls you up against him and locks the other arm behind your back so he can hold you in his lap.

“You like it better this way, sweetheart?” He murmurs, bracing his scruffy chin on the center of your chest with his head tilted back to look up at you.

“Ahh - mm, mhm!”

Clinging to his broad shoulders, you adjust the positioning of your feet and bounce on his cock a little more smoothly now. He seemed to hit even deeper than before, knocking something inside of you that made every inch of your body feel like it was on fire. You could hardly breathe through it, sucking in one haggard gasp after another while you continued to work yourself over until you felt near delirious with the need to cum.

You weren’t quite there yet though and you curl yourself around him, tucking your face into the crook of his shoulder so you can inhale the smell of him into your contracting lungs. Pinewood and ozone, the faintest note of antiseptic. You could even make out a faint trace of the dark, heady cologne he hardly ever bothered to put on. It was indescribably intoxicating, and you couldn’t take much more of it.

“Wanna’ cum …” you mewl against his collarbone, feeling like you were moments away from drooling all down the front of him. Your mind was a cotton stuffed mess.

Turning his head, Law presses his mouth to your hair and gently kisses you. “Are you starting to get tired?”

“Yuh - yeah …”

He tsks at that, the sound warm and comforting in your ear.

You suddenly choke on a sharp inhale when he tightens his arms around you without so much as missing a beat, hauling you up even closer to him and prompting you to wrap your legs around his waist with a light jostle. Crossing your ankles behind his back, you hang on for dear life as he somewhat awkwardly goes up on his knees, adjusts the grip he has on you - all without dislodging himself from your pulpy cunt - and then pivots his hips forward to test the angle.

The action rocks you in his arms, increasing the pressure on the downward slide when your soft ass paps against the fronts of his thighs. It knocks the air right out of you and you jolt, lifting your face from his shoulder so you can keen in frazzled, almost hysterical pleasure. You sounded like something wild and mindless.

“Is that better?” He whispers, his tone much too smug for him not to already know the answer.

Law doesn’t even give you a chance to respond before he does it again though, more forcefully this time, and you practically shriek in wordless delight. The momentum of his gravity assisted thrusts builds into the next, and then the next until he was fucking into you at such an enthusiastic pace that you couldn’t even begin to keep up with it.

Your mind completely blank now, you let your mouth hang open in doped out bliss while you freely moan and squeal in pleasure; the sticky wet squelching between your bodies and the sharp smack of skin on skin serving as an all too appropriate backdrop for the sounds you were making. The coil inside you was quickly reaching its breaking point and all you could do anymore was clutch at him, digging your nails into his back while he relentlessly slammed into you.

His straining grunts, so hot and heavy in your ear, had you vibrating like a wound up ball of static electricity and you hung there on the precipice for a horribly long beat, silently praying for the pin to drop. You weren’t sure how much more your aching cunt could take at this level of intensity - and then, so abruptly it almost startles you, he turns his head so he can shove his mouth against your neck and kiss you again.

It was, embarrassingly enough, the abrasive burn of his chin scruff that finally shoves you over the edge.

Toes curling to the point of genuine discomfort, you jerk in his hold so violently that it nearly tips the both of you over onto the ground. Law is quick to steady himself though and he crushes you against the front of him with a rumbling groan while your cunt spasms and tries to strangle his cock in a chokehold. You were far too caught up in the wild, full bodied tremors that were wracking through you to complain about the creaking ache in your ribs from where he was holding on to you so tight, but you also didn’t really care.

You were floating somewhere far above the physical realm, your flesh and blood body little more than an afterthought at that point.

Finally, you come back to earth with a strangled, heaving gasp, hands scrabbling against Law’s sweaty back as you writhe in his arms like you were something feral and untamed. He wasn’t about to let you go anywhere just yet though, and he rocks forward on his knees so that your back hits the rumpled layers of your kimono again. Keeping his arms locked around your quaking frame, he settles close enough to rest the fronts of his thighs on the backs of yours and pin them to the floor underneath him.

The vigorous pounding that follows seems to drag out your soul shattering orgasm to the point of real discomfort and it very nearly sends you spiraling into another. Your legs were flexing in the air, jerking with each powerful thrust of his narrow hips, but he was chasing his own high now and he couldn’t be bothered to stop long enough to pay attention to your desperate bleating. For a brief moment in time, he was a man well and truly possessed.

“Oooh, fuck, you get so tight when you cum, sweetheart, hng - haahn, your pussy’s so good to me, you know that? I’m gonna’ fill you up, baby, you ready? It’s coming …”

You jerk your head in a disoriented nod and Law drops his face to your shoulder, his slender frame shaking uncontrollably with the intensity of his fast approaching release. The obscenely loud, sticky wet squelching that noises between the two of you only seems to highlight the rough, primal quality of the seething grunts and groans that slip through his clenched teeth, rattling around inside your otherwise empty skull. You were starting to ache, in earnest this time, and reflexive tears sting at the corners of your eyes while you fervently cling to him, brokenly moaning at each desperate stroke of his cock.

For better or worse, it only takes a few minutes of this brutal pace to have Law’s hips stuttering and losing their rhythm, his thrusts gradually turning sloppy and uneven before grinding to a complete stop. Heaving, he puts the whole weight of his body into it and slams himself inside the mess he’s made of your cunt, mercilessly rocking you back against the floor once, twice, three times. On the fourth plunge, he suddenly freezes on top of you, lurching with the loss of momentum, and a powerful shudder races down his spine while he sensitively twitches and paints your guts white.

You let out a flustered groan at the sensation, delighting in the way the warmth of his release settles and spreads through you, coating your palpitating walls in creamy discharge. It was enough to send a fresh wave of tremors racing up your legs and the two of you groan in near perfect unison as you both go limp, struggling to catch your breath.

He recovers somewhat quicker than you do, eventually pushing his weight up and slipping out from between your legs so he can tiredly roll over onto his side next to you. You’re still panting when he turns you to face him, gently drawing you up against his shallowly contracting chest so you can nuzzle your nose into the thin patch of hair there. You could still smell him, a faint comfort, through the faint musk and various bodily fluids now sticking to your skin, and you were content to enjoy it for just a little bit longer.

His hand slides around to rub across your back while you both work at coming the rest of the way down from your peaks, a true feat after that unexpectedly intense session, and he lets you press in close until it was hard to tell where one of you stopped and the other began. If asked prior to this, you wouldn’t have thought you’d be all that into role playing in the bedroom but, somehow, it was actually kind of fun with him.

Law did often seem to have that effect on you.

“Hey,” he says at last, bringing his hand up and around to gently brush the hair back from your temple. “You hungry?”

Still thrumming, you give yourself a moment to think about that. “Mm, I could eat.” You murmur even as you contentedly snuggle somehow even deeper into Law’s chest, getting comfortable.

He gives an amused snort and drags his rough palm down along your side, delivering a sharp pinch to the meat of your ass to make you jolt.

“Come on, let’s go see what kind of food we can get in Wano. I’m sure we’ll find something good, or at least something edible.” Pausing, he dips his face close and presses his mouth to the top of your head, speaking into your hair. “And when we get back maybe I’ll eat you next.”

[tl-notes]

Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 3 Notes

Sparrows! Specifically the Eurasian tree sparrow, known in Japan as the suzume. You can just about see them all over Japan, all year long—but that doesn’t mean they aren’t a season word!

Depending on their depiction, they can be used as a season word for most times of the year, but a major one is “late spring,” as that’s when they’re out and about finding food for their baby birds. You can also see in the art they look a little floofy, indicative of the winter coat they haven’t fully shed yet; suzume in summer have a more sleek look. Here’s a shot of them from late summer last season:

And from closer to winter here↓. Quite fluffy.

As a quick refresher, 季語 kigo, or season words, are words/phrases/concepts used to give a sense of season to a haiku (or other poem/work of art), which is what part of what differentiates them from a senryuu. They were used pretty frequently in a lot of episodes last season, but a bit less so this time so far.

Where Lucoa and Ilulu are talking about a “right” here, the Japanese word is 資格 shikaku. While this usage is similar to “right” in English, the connotation is a little different as the word actually means more “qualification.” 

Whereas a “right” is generally something you have innately in some sense (e.g. if you make art you automatically have copyright over it, you have human rights just for being human, etc.), a shikaku is something you earn (e.g. if you study and take a test for certification program and pass, you’re rewarded with a shikaku.)

Ilulu’s response to the question here is 

そういうのは違う。小林がくれたあの言葉はなかったことにはできないから。

One way in which this differs from the English is that she’s not saying it would be right or wrong, but rather not the solution she’s looking for—because it would also mean undoing the words Kobayashi gave her, and that is something she doesn’t want to do, no matter what.

In contrast the English feels more like she thinks it would be wrong to do that, and even if she did it wouldn’t let her escape what Kobayashi said to her. (That would make more sense if Kobayashi had called her out on being evil, but that’s not really what went down.) An alternative wording might be something like:

“That wouldn’t solve anything. Besides, I don’t want to erase what Kobayashi gave me.”

This line is: 小林さんのようにはいかないなー

This is perhaps just my interpretation, but the English here sounds like Lucoa once convinced/helped Kobayashi in some fashion previously, is trying it again with Ilulu, but failing this time. (I don’t that’s ever happened though.)

In contrast, I think the Japanese is saying that Lucoa is trying to be like Kobayashi (e.g. when helping alleviate/solve Tohru’s various worries), and it’s not really working for her. I.e. “It’s not working like when Miss Kobayashi does it.” 

Ilulu’s line about “I don’t want to ask Kobayashi about it because she’d probably solve it too easily" seems to support that reading; the dragons know Kobayashi as worries-solver.

The English here has Lucoa saying she’ll go talk to Kanna/Saikawa, and casually telling Ilulu to wait in the bathroom. But Lucoa doesn’t actually talk to the kids, and even if she was planning to, why would Ilulu waiting in the toilet do anything?

The answer is that Lucoa is actually telling Ilulu to talk (to an unspecified subject, assumed to be Saikawa, since she’s a human and thus someone Ilulu feels guilty about interacting with; Kanna she’s more fine with, as a dragon). And instead of “Go ahead and wait in the bathroom,” it’s more of a “Go wait in the bathroom and see what happens,” with the implication Lucoa is going to set something up. 

And she does!

“I won’t lie about X, but Y is a different story.” This seems to imply she will still lie about Y? That seems a bit odd to me, especially when she just lied about X (those feelings) to Kanna/Saikawa minutes ago. 

The Japanese says something a bit different though.

The core of the middle line here is 気持ちに嘘をつかない kimochi ni uso wo tsukanai. Because the に, the particle indicating “direction,” is attached unadorned to "feelings,” it is saying not “lying about X” but “lying to X.” This construction, to say one is lying to a feeling, is fairly common in Japanese media. It’s basically equivalent in English to lying to yourself about those feelings.

(for “lying about X” you’d change the に into a について or similar)

So basically she’s saying she won’t pretend, to herself at least, that she doesn’t want to play. But that’s a separate issue to whether she has, as she said before, the “right” to play after what she did. 

You could maybe put it sort of like this:

“I won’t lie to myself about my feelings anymore. But that doesn’t mean I can act on them after what I did.”

I feel extremely silly even pointing this out, but the beam here is 尿意 nyoui, which is the urge to pee, not necessarily actually needing to pee. Hence why she seems to stop needing to as soon as she gets to the bathroom and walks straight back to the living room with Ilulu after they talk.

“Be deceived” here is not 騙される damasareru, lit. “be deceived,” but 騙し討ちにあう damashi-uchi ni au, which is like being hit by a sneak attack, being stabbed in the back, etc. In a fairly literal sense in this case too, as they’re talking about actual combat.

I mostly bring it up because it feels like there is not much difference between “being deceived” and “being tricked,” despite those being portrayed as polar opposites (deceived by hostile dragons, tricked by kind Kobayashi), so it might have been wise to differentiate them more in the translation.

E.g. perhaps “She had to change to avoid a knife in the back.” (though dragons don’t use knives, so maybe a claw?)

Another pretty minor point, but the “doesn’t know right from wrong” is 分別のない funbetsu no nai, where funbetsu means not so much “knowing right from wrong,” but a more encompassing sense of discretion and maturity.

I mostly bring this one up because it struck as me awkward to say Ilulu explicitly shouldn’t know right from wrong, since that would be going backward to her be okay destroying the city again. Instead it’s more that she shouldn’t need to feel weighed down by what’s “correct” or what she “should” do. One possible alt example:

“So go back to being a kid, and worry more about what you want to do than ought to do.”

(Lucoa also changes from a narrative tone to a more conversational tone at the end, in conjunction with the visual shift away from the flashback, so swapping the “she” to “you” might be appropriate.)

Note how Kanna shuffles the cards here. Depending on where you’re from, this may seem like an odd way of doing it (unless you watched Yugioh maybe). A lot of places with majority English speakers tend to use the overhand shuffle or riffle shuffle, but in Japan (and many other Asian countries) the most common shuffle is the one on display here, known as the Hindu shuffle. 

~The More You Know~

The act of handing over a piece of candy like this has been used as imagery in other places in the show as well, though I’ll leave thinking about what it represents to you.

“Blanket” is futon, which is used to refer to both the “mattress” part and “blanket” part of a full futon, the traditional Japanese bedding (not the same thing as the sofa/couch mattress you might hear called a futon in some places).

I mostly mention because just “a blanket” kind of sounds like they’re going to leave them on the floor, but they’re actually going to get the equivalent of a guest mattress (+blanket) to put them to sleep in, as it’s late enough for this to turn into a sleepover.

Just as a bit of trivia, the word she uses for “onlooker” here is the same term as the “spectator faction.” In the manga Tohru interjects with “Aww, come on, why not Chaos faction instead?” 

Also as a side note to this whole bit about Kobayashi wearing a maid outfit; recall this scene from early in season one, where Tohru found an outfit Kobayashi had bought and stuffed deep in a closet:

Relevant! Anyway, back to the actual episode now:

If you felt like this exchange felt a little disjointed, especially given Tohru’s tone of voice: the idea is that Lucoa is saying Tohru really goes to extremes when it comes to matters relating to Kobayashi, which is implying that it seems excessive to call so many people over for a relatively mild issue (not that she necessarily minds though). Tohru’s response is a slightly defensive “yeah I know, but thanks for coming over anyway.” 

(They’re saying it in ways such that you have to read between the lines a bit though, so it may not come across as easily in a translation.)

The word for “cold” here is 水くさい mizu-kusai, basically meaning “watered down” (like beer etc.), and used frequently to refer to a person/actions/words that the speaker considers too reserved for the relationship they have with the other person.

So it’s similar to cold, but cold in the context of already warm relationship. If talking about a stranger or someone you don’t get along with normally, you shouldn’t use 水くさい; you can just say 冷たい tsumetai (lit. “cold”) or similar.

In this context you could probably have her say “No need to apologize, Kobayashi-san.”

Also I like how they swap around the honorifics (Miss, Lady, -san, -sama, etc.) based on the speaker (I think differentiating between dragons and native-Japanese-speaking humans?). I would say it works given the setting, but that’s just me.

The text there says “Money Street.” It’s probably obvious, but it’s based primarily on Monopoly, which is semi-popular in Japan (though not to the extent as say in the US). 

Just some trivia, but the “sales pitch” for the game in the Japanese market is more that it’s an educational game that teaches investing and negotiation skills. (The origin of the game in general being an educational tool about exploitation of tenants by landlords, so not quite the same thing.)

Japan also has Momotarou Dentetsu (”Momotetsu”), which is a video game series that’s been around since the NES and is broadly similar to Monopoly rules-wise.

I just want to point out, amid all the riches, the bag of potato chips and other junk food in the back there.

Mini-trivia: the cardboard boxes in the background there seem to be a mix of the Amazon logo and the Seino Transportation logo, a Japanese shipping company with a kangaroo logo.

You probably noticed it without me pointing it out, but I enjoyed the fact Elma got corn starch* all around her mouth from the daifuku and then immediately got told to go play with the kids while the adults are talking.

*It may seem like powdered sugar if you’re used to donut holes, but daifuku, like most Japanese sweets (wagashi) generally, is not heavily sugared and not even particularly sweet by the standard of most “sweets” (which is part of the appeal for many). The skin of the daifuku is powdered with corn starch or similar simply to make it less sticky.

Kobayashi’s “do that” here is やろー yarou, which can mean “let’s do X” (which is a construction often used to tell/suggest someone to do something, without really including yourself in the “us”). 

However in this case—especially given Kobayashi’s pronunciation and tone of voice—I think it’s actually a homophone of that, a form of 野郎 yarou, a word for “guy” with often negative connotations, like saying “son of a” or “asshole” etc. 

The idea, I think, being that his immediate agreement of “Oooh, right I didn’t think about you wearing it,” comes with a heavy implication of “yeah you’re right, you couldn’t pull off something cute like that,” so she’s replying with a (mostly good-natured) “oh you fucker.”

This giant 完 kan means “the end,” used like “fin” at the end of a story or game etc. It’s also frequently used in “fake end” jokes. E.g. a show about a sentient zombie might start with the main character getting hit by a truck and dying immediately. The end! ...Except not, and they wake up as a zombie.

So here, the original goal was “make a maid outfit for Kobayashi to wear.” Then Georgie convinces Kobayashi that anything is a maid outfit as long as you are a maid at heart, so really, she’s already wearing one! The end! ...Except not.

Here’s some extra, probably needless, context on this “annoying”: it uses the word 面倒くさい mendokusai, which is basically used to describe something as annoying, a pain, etc. When used to describe a person like this, one of the ways it can be taken is specifically that the person is really fussy about details that others wouldn’t really care about—which describes Kobayashi about maids pretty well. 

So just for clarity, it’s not necessarily “I became an annoying person who is a maid otaku,” and can be more of a “within the context of my maid otaku-ness I became annoying.” Just to kind of shed some light on the extent of her self-deprecation here.

The word Kobayashi uses for “helping with the housework” is 家事手伝い kaji-tetsudai, which is a noun* that means “a housework helper”... here, basically a more bland way for a native Japanese speaker to say maid. 

Hence why Tohru reacts with “Oh, don’t call me that, call me a maid!”; Kobayashi went as far as to acknowledge her clothes as a maid outfit, but not quite as far as calling her maid outright. That’s our “annoying maid otaku” doing her thing. 

*It can also be verbed.

These neighborhood notices, 回覧板 kairan-ban, ~lit. circular notice, are a method used by local governing organizations to distribute information or forms etc. For example, about an upcoming neighborhood event to pick up litter.

The general idea is that one person gets the notice, reads it, signs it, then goes and passes it to the next household in line. It saves paper versus sending everyone a thing in the mail, encourages interaction between neighbors, and is more likely to be read than a flyer/email, though some people consider them a pain and they generally feel a little dated.

The phrase for “piercing noise” is  劈く金切り音, tsunzaku kanakiri-on, ~lit. “ear-piercing sound of tearing metal.”* 

“Was it that loud?” in the Japanese is a little different, そんな音してた?, meaning “was it making a sound like that?” 

I’m mostly just bringing it up to say that the “Sasakibe’s cooking isn’t just loud, the sounds don’t even make sense” gag is alive and well this season.

*The “sound of tearing metal” phrase can also used idiomatically for some types of high pitched sounds, but I imagine it was chosen very deliberately here.

It’s probably obvious, but this is a reference to the music video of the OP for season one. You can see it on the official channel for the band, fhána, here.

The season two music video is here, and it seems to have decent English subtitles for the lyrics if you’re curious what they are.

The adjective here is ニヒル nihiru, an abbreviation of nihilistic. It can be used as actually “nihilistic” like in English, but it can also be used more colloquially to describe a person with dark vibes. It can almost be a compliment!

“Sleeping” here is 惰眠をむさぼる damin wo musaboru. Damin is not just sleep, but “worthless” sleep—not like a nap because you’re tired. Musaboru is a verb for ~gorging upon on something (often metaphorically, not just food).

The two words are somewhat frequently used together for, basically, lying around the house doing nothing all day. And not in a particularly flattering way, so it’s pretty funny for her to just be like “yeah I do that as a hobby I guess.” 

It doesn’t mean the same thing, but it’d be like saying your hobby is loitering. Maybe could have translated as like “Hobbies? Vegetating.” or “Procrastinating?” or something, though I don’t know if those would have the right impact...

Kanna’s word for “idol” here is アイドル aidoru, i.e. idol in the pop culture sense.

Tohru’s word is 偶像 guuzou, or idol in the religious sense.

(Tohru swaps to the pop culture “idol” when she starts talking about Kobayashi though.)

Kanna’s “lost it” it here is 大変 taihen, a pretty common, almost generic word used as an intensifier (greatly, immensely, seriously, terribly, really, etc.) in both positive and negative ways. E.g. “thanks, you really saved me!” or “that was extremely rude.”

When used alone, like here, it usually implies something bad has happened, like something has befallen Tohru and/or she’s in some sort of trouble. Hence why Kobayashi immediately rushes home worried and bursts through the door like this—and loses her tension when she sees Tohru is fine, just... extreme(ly annoying to Kanna and Ilulu).

You could maybe say e.g. “Something’s wrong with Tohru!” to keep that double meaning open.

(”Lost it!” also makes sense for Kobayashi to be worried about, but the type of worry is somewhat different in that case; “oh god what is she going to do” vs. “oh god what happened to her.”)

The “lick” here is べろ bero, an onomatopoeia for licking that’s also used as slang for "tongue” (noun).

A bero chuu, as in the chorus here, is slang for a French kiss/deep kiss/tongue kiss.

~The More You Know~

The text here says “If your total assets are above one billion, proceed towards goal.” 

Only billionaires can win...

Here is 私のものはカンナのもの, lit. “What’s mine is Kanna’s!”

This line is a reference to a catchphrase of the bully/antagonist in Doraemon, Gian: “What’s yours is mine, and what’s mine is mine.” 

His line, and character, is so well known it’s spawned the term “Gianism” to represent that sort of self-centered philosophy: everything is rightfully mine to take, even if you think you lay some claim over it.

It’s interesting that the inversion of Gianism, i.e. “what’s mine is yours,” is the only way Kanna and Saikawa are able to overcome the rules, beat the billionaire, and win the game.

Solidarity forever.

[whatanoof]

Cold Hands and Warm Bodies

Merry Christmas! This is a Secret Santa gift for @autumnleaves1991-blog!

There’s a sequel now!

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Whiskey x Reader

Word Count: ~4.7k

Content: fluff, dancing, swearing, oral sex(female receiving), rougher sex, fluffy, smut, there’s a part at the beginning where Reader rejects a man’s advances but it doesn’t get past name-calling

A/N: I liked the idea of a lonely Christmas in a new city turning into something much better through unexpected events, especially since so many are going to be celebrating with less people than normal due to the pandemic. The music referenced is Gasoline by Halsey from her Badlands album.

Your parents had begged you to not complete the move over the holidays, surely it could have waited a couple of weeks so that you could celebrate with your family. But you were decided, and the timeline of your new employment was not up to you. Staying in LA for Christmas wouldn’t have benefited anyone. The confidential nature of your job meant you couldn’t talk about your job with your family, and that’s all that families really want to know besides if you have a boyfriend yet. This left more rumors flying between the aunts than bullets around a battlefield. At this point, you’re pretty sure that your own mother thinks that you’re a prostitute.

Alcohol is an easy option to curb loneliness. The drink burns on the way down, but you savor it. It’s been cold in the new city, and you haven’t been able to shake the chill since moving. Your current choice of atmosphere is the bar closest to your house, leaving you with the freedom to slam as many drinks as would let you forget how alone you are at the time of year when no one should be alone. You don’t have to drive home this way. But now, inside and looking around at the excessive Christmas decorations, you begin to wonder if this was the best way to avoid the holidays.

There are Christmas wreaths all around, draped over as many surfaces as possible. Mistletoe hangs near the corners of the cleared section of floor, and you wouldn’t be surprised if some of those corners were soon occupied by drunk dancers. Lights dangle over the bottles behind the bar, and the bartender is wearing a Christmas elf headband. And to top it all off, most everyone inside has a partner, making you stick out like a sore thumb. Your sole point of luck is that the bar isn’t Western based. 

“Well, hello good-looking.”

The moment is shattered by the stranger’s arm around your shoulders, pulling you too close for the small amount of liquor in your body. The brunette man smells like spearmint, but his breath clearly reveals his state of mind. 

“The name’s Grey. Now, I heard a little birdie that told me that you’d be coming home with me tonight.” His grin appears genuine, but something glitters in his eyes that sends an icy distrust through your gut.

You turn away. “No thank you.” Better not to give him any attention, drunks are never reasonable if you let them believe for even a second that they have a chance.

“Now that’s not very kind. I was being civil, and you rebuff a poor man who just wants a warm bed tonight. May I at least get the lady’s name so that I can address her properly? Where’s the Southern hospitality? ” You catch a concerned look from the bartender, though there’s no need to worry. This isn’t your first rodeo.

“Nonexistent, Grey.” You grab his wrist, yanking it off of your shoulder. 

For a blissful second, the contact is gone, then it returns, and now his fingers are digging into your bare skin. His hands are cold. The handheld taser in your pocket is burning, and you reach for it as he snaps, “Now, there’s no need to be a bi--”

“Hey now,” The new voice is sudden, but there’s a distinctive Southern drawl to the baritone voice that sends pleasant tingles down your spine. Now that is a voice that you could listen to the rest of the night. “The lady said no. And last I checked, Southern hospitality doesn’t apply when said person isn’t Southern.” 

The arm around your shoulders vanishes and you slowly reach for your bag. Angry voices echo behind you, but you’re too preoccupied with leaving to worry yourself with the brewing argument. Goddammit you had only come for drinks, and now you might have to duck out before a fight starts.

But the angry voices lower and the normal barroom din returns. You slowly release your bag to rest once again at your feet, and a new man appears on the stool at your elbow. 

“Good evening.” It’s the rumbling voice of your faceless Southern gentleman. 

He saved you, but that doesn’t mean you can trust him. Feigning disinterest is more difficult now, but you take a sip of your drink and focus hard on how the light from the glass catches the amber liquid. “Thank you for stepping up. Doesn’t happen often.” 

“Unfortunately. Mostly for the men if you end up pulling that taser.” The casual observation catches your attention.

You turn and finally look your gentleman in the eye. Oh. You weren’t prepared for him to be so-- gorgeous. That’s really the only word you can summon to your scattered brain at the moment because, damn. Dark hair brings out darker eyes that glimmer warmly in the lowlights of the bar despite the cowboy hat. A mustache accents plush lips. Tan skin and bold features draw you in, and you don’t want to stop looking except he clears his throat and you realize that you’ve been staring for much longer than the appropriate time.

“Is there something on my face?” Your eyes dart back up to his face and you’re struck by how unfair it is that someone can be so effortlessly attractive.

“N-- no!” Stammering, really? Dammit you’re a full grown woman, pull yourself together. “How-- how could you tell I’m not from around here?”

He beckons a finger to you, and you lean in. “I am an undercover operative working with an American based agency that deploys me worldwide to handle top-secret missions.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning back to take him in again. The jacket over the tight shirt shows his athletic build rather well, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it were true, “Really?”

“No. It’s the accent.”

You laugh and roll your eyes. The pleased smile spreading over his face matches the one sneaking over your own. “You’re right, I just moved here.” A thought strikes you, “What are you doing alone in a bar during the holidays? No family or friends to visit?”

“None left that mean enough.” The statement is casual enough, except there’s a tension in his voice that makes you hesitate. “And I could ask you the same thing. What motivates a lady to move to a new city, all alone at Christmas?” The tension passes and he waves at the bartender, who immediately turns and starts making a drink. He’s a regular here, apparently.

“A job,” You swirl the remnants of your drink lazily before finishing it, “I’m starting tomorrow.” The last dregs slip down your throat, and the burning buzz will last for now.

“Ah, a beautiful woman and a hard worker. It’s too much for my heart.” 

“If that alone is too much, then this is going to be a short evening indeed.” The subtle innuendo doesn’t fly over either of your heads, and you don’t miss the smile spreading across his face when you flirt back.

“I think I may surprise you, darling. We’re both willing to work for what we want.” His drink arrives, and he takes a sip. Heat pools in your core at the implications. “If this evening is going to continue, may I have the lady’s name so that I can address her properly?”

You hum low in your throat in response. You’ve never brought a man home at the first meeting, never allowed flirting to be anything more than that on the first night. But something’s different about this one. In a split second decision, you give it to him. 

He repeats the syllables after you, rolling them around his tongue in a way that sends a thrill through you as you wonder what else he can do with it, “Gorgeous. George, another drink for the lady, on my tab.” 

You tilt your head back, catching his eyes, “And may I then have the gentleman’s, so that I may know the name of my fearless knight in… shining leather and spurs?”

He laughs, “Jack Daniels.”

“Jack Daniels, like the whiskey brand?” 

“Something like that.” His grin is mysterious and seems a little too practiced, but that’s fine with you. You smile back anyway. Your drink arrives, and you raise the glass to Jack as you take a sip, though you find that the burn of the whiskey doesn’t leave you with the same satisfaction.

A song starts playing in the background, and you straighten up and glance over your shoulder at the dance floor. “Wait, I--”

“--love this song.” You both finish the sentence together. You look back at him hopefully, and he looks at you with a bit of a challenge in his eyes. 

The stool scrapes across the floor and he rises, extending a hand to you, “Would you care to dance, sweetheart?”

“Depends. Are we going to square dance?” 

“Only if you want to, darling.”

“Yes to the dancing, no to the square dancing then.” You accept his hand and walk with him to the center of the dance floor. Your drinks remain abandoned at the bar.

The bassy thrum of the music and crooning vocals keep your hips undulating against his, but Jack has other ideas. He hasn’t let go of your hands, and your arms are crossed over your chest when he draws them up and over your head. Your arms extend and you spin, meeting his eyes as you grasp his hands. 

The alternative pop song doesn’t translate perfectly to the style that he brings, but you can hardly complain. Around you, people are grinding against each other, but a small space clears for him to sway and turn with you. It’s surprisingly fun compared to what you knew of night dancing in a bar. 

The tempo slows and you step inside his reach so that your back is against his chest. 

‘Are you strange like me?

Lightin’ matches just to swallow up the flame like me?’

His breath catches hot and heavy in your ear as you press back into him, savoring every breath and drop of sweat that is your effect on him. The verse fades, and you allow him to lead once again. The melody swells in your head, drowning out everything around you until it’s only him and you. But this time the lyrics make you wonder about the man holding your hands.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

The music ends with a crescendo and a final spin, and you’re left panting as your gaze locks with Jack’s. He’s holding you firmly, one hand on your waist, and your bodies feeling like they’re steaming in the chilly air. The spell breaks with a single glance upwards from him. 

“Well that’s a fine addition to an already wonderful night.” There’s a tinge of amusement in his voice, and you follow his gaze.

The mistletoe hangs directly overhead. You glance down, a thrill of nerves running through your body at the intensity in Jack’s stare. Something must have shown in your eyes or body language, because he relaxes and loosen his grip on your waist.

“Only with your permission of course, darling.” He’s fighting it, but disappointment clouds his tone, and he withdraws. “I understand if it’s not something you wan--”

You cut him off by snagging his collar and pulling him close. The surprise on his face gives way to a smirk as you quip, “Don’t mind if I do, cowboy.”

Then his lips are on yours and you’re melting into him. The bar fades into the background and you lose yourself in a man that you had met three hours ago. He tastes like your drink. Tingles spread through your body as he deepens the kiss, warming you to the tips of your fingers.

Then you’re being pressed backwards until you hit the wall, hands instinctively flying up to tangle in his already messy hair. Something soft and firm brushes your fingertips, and you snag it on instinct, lifting Jack’s hat to plop it on top of your own head. He breaks the kiss, a soft smile spreading over his face when he pulls back to look at you. 

“Do I make a good cowgirl?”

“Looks better on you than me, darling.” He kisses you again, hands sliding over your waist down to your ass, and you don’t think that’s a lasso pressing up against you. A low moan rumbles out of his throat, and you stifle a whimper at the sound. He chuckles, “Want to get out of here, cowgirl?”

“Yeah.” Lust boils in your stomach. You can’t seem to tear your eyes away from his kiss-swollen lips that part ever so slightly so you can see his tongue flick over them.

“Got any friends to notify of your immediate departure?” His breath ghosts over your skin and his dark eyes flick up from your lips to meet yours, warming your body as you lose yourself in the deep brown.

“No, too new to the city.” You whisper back, the noise of the club fading into the background while a wave of heat crashes over your body, swelling between your legs.

“Your place or mine?”

---

Funny enough, Jack didn’t bring a car either, but he doesn’t explain and you don’t question it. You don’t regret walking the short five minutes to and from the bar, especially when Jack pulls you close to his side as you walk. You’re just passing under the bridge on your street when he stops walking.

“Stop, do you hear that?” You instantly freeze, eyes darting around for any perceivable threat. There’s too many potential hiding places, the shadows of the bridge supports could hide a man of any size and--

“Listen closely…” He hums the tune from the bar and steps away, tugging you forward a couple of steps. He pulls you back into him, and you’re able to hear the melody through the vibrations in his chest. 

‘You can’t wake up, this is not a dream.’

You find your rhythm. The tempo picks up, only a shadow in your mind as you sway to the invisible beat. He matches you easily, and the two of you move with an unpracticed ease out from beneath the shadow of the bridge into the streetlight glow. The melody swells, and you laugh when a breeze ruffles your hair. You sing the last line to him.

‘Well, my heart is gold and my hands are cold.’

You end up back in his arms, breathing hard and smiling up at Jack. His fingers slip down to interlock with yours, “I can help with that.” You should be freezing, but heat throbs under your skin in time with your racing heart. 

He leans in, but just before his lips touch yours, you whisper, “Jack? We’re here.”

His eyes shift over to your front door briefly, then back to you. He grins. “Nice place.”

---

You laugh as you stumble through your front door, your back hitting yet another wall when Jack pins you to the side of the living room. Heated kisses trail down your neck and a muscled thigh slides between yours. You shudder at the contact against your clothed pussy, your heartbeat throbbing between your legs fiercely.

“Jack, bed’s that way.”

“Oh sweetheart, that would be the end goal for sure.” Hands support your rear, and you fold your legs around him. You’re vaguely aware of him walking you towards the door that you indicated, but you can’t bring yourself to pay attention when he’s licking into your mouth and he’s so close and so warm and right there for you to enjoy. He lays you gently on the bed, legs dangling off the edge. 

“You want this?” The question is so starkly unexpected that you blink and sit up for a moment. He’s standing there between your legs, hair disheveled and shirt half unbuttoned. His pupils are completely lust-blown and his shoulders are heaving with the heavy breaths he’s taking, and you’re struck with the thought that this is the first time someone has thought to ask. But you’d have to be half-dead to say no now. 

“Yes.”

And then he’s undoing your pants and dropping to his knees in front of you. Warm breath ghosts over your exposed skin after he gently peels your pants off. You squirm as large, warm hands rub over your inner thighs. “Beautiful.” But he is too, with the way he glances up at you from between your legs. He’s absolutely beautiful, as he carefully pulls your panties to the side and drags his tongue through your folds. 

“You taste better down here, sweetheart.” He immediately concentrates around your clit, tracing lazy circles around the sensitive nub and you forget how to breathe. 

Your hips roll against his face, trying to gain more friction than what he’s giving, and you whimper as his mustache leaves a tingling trail on your skin. The heat pooling within your core is begging for more, and you’re close to doing the same as he continues to patiently taste you. 

“Gorgeous. Absolutely gorgeous. I’m going to make you feel so good, darling, you’re going to be screaming my name.” A thick finger rests against you, gathering your wetness and continuing to massage against your clit while his tongue finally dips to press against your entrance. You flutter in response, a whine scraping against the back of your throat. His tongue presses deep into your core, and you clench around the insistent pressure.

“Ja-Jack I’m go-gonna--” The words refuse to come smoothly, but he seems to sense your urgency. His tongue returns to your clit, sucking and kissing the flesh while his finger slips into your pussy. 

“Come, sweetheart. I’ve got you.” Every flick of his tongue against your clit pulls another whine from you. Fuck, something inside you snaps and then heat is burning through your body. The wave crests, and you dimly hear a choked moan when your floor muscles convulse and heat drips from you.

He continues to taste you long after you’ve stopped convulsing, while the light fades from you vision and you regain feeling in your limbs. And you understand something. He’s tasting you simply to taste you, giving for the sake of giving. You know why you allowed it to get past the flirting stage.

“You doing good, darling?” He climbs up over you and kisses you, lips molding to yours like they were made to. He tastes like you.

You can’t respond, don’t want to when it means pulling away from this moment right now. The only thing you want right now is to stay like this, to stay in this perfect warmth, where the only thing you know is that he’s kissing you and you’re floating on the sheer feeling of being able to give because you feel like it.

Then he shifts, and you feel his erection brush against your thigh. And your gut tells you it’s his turn now. You move your leg, bringing it up between his thighs. It bumps against his length, and he tenses, pulling away and dropping his head to the crook of your neck. And you take the moment to flip the two of you, straddling his hips. 

“Give me a second, darling, have to find a condom.” His arm reappears from the edge of the bed with his wallet, but you stop him.

“I have an implant. Are you clean?”

“Last checkup, yes. And I haven’t been with anyone since.”

You smirk, “Well then I see no need.”

He exhales, arms going behind his head as he grins up at you, “I’d have to say, as enjoyable as that just was, seeing you like this?” He shakes his head, “Best part of the night.”

“It’s about to get better.” His dick is velvety hard between your thighs, and you can’t help grinding down on it just a little. 

“I’ll believe it when I feel it.” He groans, head falling back against the pillow. 

The challenge floats in the air, and you grab both it and his length in a single moment. He’s going to be saying your name soon. Notching it at your entrance, you sink down in a single motion. He drags against your insides so perfectly, fitting to you and filling you so completely. Your back arches at the burning stretch, but all you can focus on is Jack’s groan when your butt meets his hips, how his body seizes under you, and how his hands fly to clutch at you. 

But his cock inside you isn't enough, you need more contact, need to know that he’s right there with you. You grab his wrists and drag his hands up to your breasts, relishing the moan that escapes him as he squeezes them.

Your name echoes through the air, followed by his gasping breaths as you raise yourself off of him and sink back down. The heat starts building inside you again. His hips jerk up into you, seemingly unintentionally. “God, fucking perfect. Feel so good around me. Not gonna last, not after earlier, please sweetheart.”

You grind down onto him, finding your rhythm again. The fire inside of you is constant and overtaking you. It swells on its own without needing anything else besides Jack, who’s looking up at you like you’re the only star in the sky. 

“You look so good bouncing on my dick, cowgirl, but I’m going to have you under me, squirming for me while I get you to keep making all of those cute noises. I’ll be-- fuck!” His breath catches and his hands dig into the flesh of your hips, and a voice in the back of your mind tells you that you’re going to have bruises tomorrow. You can’t seem to bring yourself to care.

You fight to retain your own rhythm, but it’s unsustainable, and your screaming muscles wear down in the face of Jack’s strength. They give out, and you’re caught in the rhythmic slapping of skin as Jack takes over.

“Ja- Jack! Fuck!” You can’t organize yourself enough to think, let alone acknowledge him while he continues to drive up into you. The ragged cries ripped from your throat lose all coherency. It’s too much, and the orgasm rising through your body is taking your mind with it. A hand detaches from your waist and presses directly against your clit, rocketing you further towards your climax. “Jack!” 

“Come on sweetheart, I know you’ve got another in you. Let go. Let me take care of you.”

Your own orgasm hovers at the edge of your mind, but you shove it away in favor of tripping his. His breaths are coming heavier now, and his hips continue to slam upwards into yours. He’s going to outlast you at this rate, unless--

A hand grips your neck just enough that you register the pressure, and he drags you down against his body. The world flips around once more, and then you’re underneath him instead and his arms are planted on either side of your head as he-- fuck. The pace increases, no it must multiply by some large number because your body is shaking with every thrust, and the headboard is slamming against the wall and you’re glad that you don’t share these walls with anyone else. Your cry is muffled by his mouth, but the new angle causes him to drive up against something inside you that you swear makes you see a corner of heaven.

It spikes with a fury, driving you over the edge as you clamp down around him. Your body seizes, arching against Jack as the shockwaves claim your body. You’re rocketed somewhere high above the clouds for the second time tonight, and all you can really comprehend is how happy you are that you brought him home. And through the haze, you faintly hear him purring in your ear, “Good girl, pretty girl, gorgeous. Gorgeous.”

He keeps fucking you through your high, and you need him to cum. You need him to feel the same bliss that you do, and you know how to do it. The idea barely crosses your mind before your body accepts it, and your floor muscles clamp down almost of their own volition. He falters, and a gasp is the only sound you hear before he’s coming. His hips piston out and in one last time, and then he’s spilling deep inside you.

When the light fades from behind your eyes, you feel yourself being shifted. Your combined juices trickle down your leg as he pulls out, and your back is pressed against his chest. You drift, blinking in and out of consciousness. You feel him rise from behind you and then hear the sound of running water. He returns moments later, and there’s a damp cloth cleaning between your legs before he’s back in bed behind you, arms locked around your waist and pulling you close. His fingers intertwine with yours over your belly, and as they brush against the skin of your stomach, you realize that they aren’t cold anymore. He drags the comforter over your bodies.

The world around you is dissolving in a haze of exhaustion, but his voice rumbles through the fog. You’re so comfortable and warm, and by all rights you should be asleep. But you force yourself back to the world of waking, enough to hear him thanking you as he plants slow kisses along the back of your neck. The delicious warmth of his skin against yours draws you farther under and stifles the confusion at the statement, and you finally surrender to the exhaustion pulling at your body. 

---

Your phone alarm wakes you the next morning to an empty bed. 

Realistically, you shouldn’t have expected him to be there, shouldn’t have hoped that it could have been more than a one time thing. Right? You’re a certified badass, a top-rated handler at Statesman Distillery who has guided multiple agents and friends through life and death scenarios. You deal in realism and pessimism. You have had one night stands before, none of which led to any kind of connection. You don’t need emotional connection to function. This shouldn’t be any different. Right?

Except you know how you normally feel after one night stands, and this isn’t it.

You’re on autopilot as you shower and dress for your first day. All you can think about is the warmth of his hands as they ran over your skin, his smirk as he caught your eye, mouth glistening with your release. His quiet ‘thank you’ last night as he curled his body around yours before falling asleep. If you could have had a say, you would have wanted more than one night. A second chance, maybe, but it’s not like you get many of those these days.

Statesman Distillery is across the street from last night’s bar, and the brisk air helps to clear your head and prepare you mentally. As soon as you walk through those doors, you’re Agent Seltzer, not a girl pining for a man whom you barely know beyond his name. You hesitate under the bridge on your way to work. The music echoes in your ears and chest. You keep walking. 

The receptionist directs you to your new office. Top floor, third door on the left. It’s roomier than your last one, though now you’re at HQ, not the LA branch office. A woman meets you at the elevator. She is slight, but her steely composure and short cut hair give her an air of maturity and ability. 

“Good morning and Merry Christmas, Seltzer.” She’s holding a basket with a label that reads ‘Happy First Day!’ “I’m Ginger Ale, the head overseer of the base-side handlers, and I’ll be giving you the basic acclimation on your first day. Sorry that it had to be a holiday, but an impending crisis in Chicago has just taken a turn for the worse. The mission briefing has been sent to your tablet.”

Your brow furrows slightly, and she continues as if she could read your internal question. “This isn’t usually my job, but it’s the holidays and most of the other agents trained in onboarding are on leave. We’re throwing you into the deep end on your first day, unfortunately, but your superiors at the LA branch assured us that you would take to it naturally.”

She sets the gift basket on your desk, and you notice the largest item in the basket is a bottle of the famed Statesman whiskey. You idly take it out and study the label. “Interesting first day gift.”

Ginger shrugs with a faint smile, “That’s directly from your assigned field agent, Agent Whiskey. He gifts those to his new handlers.”

“Any reason why?”

“He--” She seems to start to say something, then stops herself, “It’s an early apology. He’s experienced, and he operates as he sees fit. He burns through handlers faster than a hot knife through butter.”

The challenge floats above your head at the explanation, and you take it. “I’m assuming that I will get to meet Agent Whiskey before our official briefing?”

“Yes,” Ginger checks her watch, “In about… two seconds.”

“Sweetheart.” The voice is achingly familiar, and memories of last night crash over you like a heatwave. Second chances, hm?

Part Two if anyone cares for it

[sexyglances]

your inspector koo tags are so interesting to read! especially this one [post/668612851804618752/netflixdramas-kim-hye-jun-lee-hong-nae], because i always think about their complicated dynamic that i rarely see in other dramas. i keep wondering if geonwook has even a little bit of affection for yikyung, outside of the entire savior thing.

[x]

Thanks, anon! I def usually think my excessive tagging is like yelling my feelings into a void (esp for a show w/less viewers like inspector koo), so it's nice to feel validated.

I've been mulling over the idea of affection and wook in his relationship with yikyung in my own mind, and i think i have come to the conclusion that it is precisely bc he sees her--yikyung specifically, with her lack of emotions--as his savior that he doesn't show any traditional markers of affection towards yikyung. (Well that, and being gay, which i discussed in my other anon post.)

What i mean by that is that without any other major social force in his life (like a friend group or a full, supportive family--none of this is explicit in the narrative but can be inferred), he took his social cues from yikyung, and yikyung doesn't show sincere signs of "normal" affection unless she's masking. There's a reason why her one school friend always recoils and is always so disturbed by yikyung's head pats and attempts at standard signs of closeness. Because after seeing the darkness in yikyung, any attempt by yikyung to display those traditional markers of affection fall into uncanny valley territory.

With wook, from his very first interaction with yikyung, he saw the darkness in her and was thankful for it. Because of this, she never had to hide that part of herself, nor did she have to perform the masquerade of pretending to be a normie with him. Thus, she never displayed affection with him, and because she is his savior/leader/figurehead in this cult of 2, he took his cues from her and he used their ritual and also the amount of time involved in their ritual as a substitute for affection. After all, what better way to distract yourself from abject loneliness than to throw yourself wholeheartedly into a project that takes up so much time and brain space that you can't focus on your feelings anyway?

But here's where the fundamental flaw/break happens in their relationship. Wook still has that ability to develop love and show real human affection. It was a quality that lay dormant in him for several years while he devoted his life to being a cleaner and a watcher (he even has a personal nest to watch security footage on his downtime!), but he really did create a new connection with his security guard boyfriend. It's no coincidence that the only time we see wook genuinely smile and be relaxed is when he is with his bf. Or when we see his personal apprehension it's when he's worried about his bf or about the implications of his bf finding out their secret (i think this worry was a large part of his hesitancy when his bf asked to move in together, along with his shock that someone would actually choose to love him in such a permanent way). Whereas when we see yikyung smile, it's when she is a) masking, b) playing her serial killer games, or c) deep in her psychosis. And unlike yikyung's childhood friend that was disturbed by the whole...yikyung-ness of their interactions, what wook's boyfriend finds suspicious is not wook himself, but the secret he can sense wook is hiding.

So yeah, i believe that wook thought he had the best he could get with yikyung, and the substitute for affection was real enough. Kind of like eating stevia for years and thinking it's the perfect sweetener, forgetting that real sugar has none of that astringent, bitter aftertaste attached to it that stevia has, or only eating imitation maple syrup and forgetting how full-bodied and deep that real maple syrup tastes. What wook thought he had with yikyung, essentially affection-lite, was good enough, was real enough. But he just needed a new guide person like his bf to show him the light back to actual real affection, not the masking he was mimicking with yikyung because he had no other example or driving force in his life. And wook he had that realness again, what yikyung is offering was never going to be good enough any longer. Even though tragically, there's no escaping her either. As part of being his savior, he willingly chose to let his life become a victim to her too, because that's the best he thought he could get.

[blindwyrm]

Basics of Energy Work - Part One

Expanding Awareness Energy work is a subtle art, a foundational building block to successful magic. Almost all magical practices involve some form of energy work - and there are countless forms - but how it will function from individual to individual will differ greatly. To put it simply, energy work is the practice of manipulating unseen energies. Everything - people, places, animals, inanimate objects, even our thoughts - vibrates at a specific energetic frequency and emits energy. By learning how to identify and tune into these energies, we can use them to direct our magic and spell work. Chances are, you have worked your own personal energy before. More often than not, your own energy will be the easiest for you to tap into. To do this, we need to learn how to expand our awareness. Meditation Meditation is a good practice to have when pursuing any kind of magical endeavor; there are many ways to meditate and there is much to achieve through it. The overall key to meditation is, generally, focus. You are training your mind to simply observe with non judgement; not to simply clear your mind of any thought at all, which is the common misconception. There is not just one way to meditate - if sitting cross legged in a room bathed with incense as you engage breathing exercises works for you, great! Some people meditate through dance, yoga, exercise, crafts, etc. Anything where your mind can drift, “tune out” so to speak, as your body instinctively goes through the motions. There are also several forms of guided meditations that you can use for specific goals, such as attentiveness, visualization, improving memory, empowerment, etc. Elemental meditation is popular among the witchcraft community. What’s great about guided meditation is it extremely accessible through apps and things like youtube (favorites of mine are the fire meditation and the water meditation from magickians!) and makes the whole process of learning to meditate a lot less intimidating.  As meditation relates to energy work, it will sharpen your ability for visualization, increase your focus, have you more in touch with your physical and inner self as both the same and separate entities, and increase your awareness of changes in and around you - all of this working towards an enhanced ability to sense energy and its movement.  What is this mystical “energy?”  If you’re having trouble wrapping your head around the idea of the elusive and all encompassing vaguery of “energy”, don’t worry. The idea may seem intimidating, but they are not inaccessible. If you are struggling, it only indicates that you are human. This will take practice and it will require you to understand the concepts on a physical level. Luckily, these are steps that nearly every magical practitioner, old and new, has and will continue to work on for the rest of their spiritual journey. Every question you have has likely already been answered. Some may just take a bit of research to find! However, I’m going to try and provide at least some cursory information here. To get a real idea of what “energy” feels like, set aside some quiet time for youself. Close the door, dim the lights, turn off your phone. Light your candles and make sure you will be left alone. Sit down on the floor and make yourself comfortable - not too comfortable! You don’t want to fall asleep. Draw in some deep breaths and clear your mind, as you did in your meditation. Continue until you feel your breathing regulated and yourself relaxed. Now, close your eyes and rub your palms together, like you’re trying to warm them up, then pull them an inch or two apart. You should feel a charged sensation tingling between your hands, maybe even like a ball, vibrating and pulsating in your hands. If you concentrate, you may even be able to feel a sort of magnetic resistance if you attempt to push it back together. That’s energy. It’s really that simple. If you don’t feel it at first, just try again. The more you do this, the easier it will become to identify your own and different types of energy all around you through a technique called centering, which will be discussed below.  Grounding The term grounding, sometimes called Earthing, means to recalibrate your energy. Essentially, the purpose of grounding is to shake off “excess” energy and ground yourself back in reality, into the rhythm of the plane on which we exist. And while grounding does restore balance and connectedness, there are greater implications to explore when it comes to grounding. Everything on this earth is shaped by forces and presence of the Earth and cosmos, and as such, “this connection is deeply inherent to a sustainable state of well being. The Earth, as an organic and inorganic system, is constantly bathing all life on the planet with its highly ordered and coherent electromagnetic field. The natural tendency of an organism is to couple with the Earth’s energy field and come to a mutual state of cooperation and harmony within its environment, finding its niche and proper place within a system. What we need to understand is that all systems strive to achieve, return to and/or maintain a state of coherence. Whether one is aware of it or not, we are always taking part in a constant process within our universe, coupling with other energy fields and finding some sort of balance within this space. This happens everywhere within the context of an ecosystem, whenever two forces interact for any reason. The more organized or coherent these fields are, the more effectively and efficiently energy can be [manipulated.]”  Grounding allows us to cultivate a relationship with the earth and facilitate a healthier, more coherent state of being. It allows us to align our energy for more accurate working. Like meditation, there are many ways to ground; a list of some of my personal favorite methods can be found (here.) Shielding and Centering Shielding is important for magical workings as it provides a protective barrier to maintain our center. To do this, you’ll want to get a feel for your personal energy first. A good way to do is something called centering. Throughout the day, you naturally will pick up on all kinds of external energy; some good, some bad, most of it probably neither of the two - either way, it is energy that is not yours. Meditation and shadow work will be useful in identifying what feels distinctly you, but you should be able to know when you’re not feeling entirely you. If you’ve been feeling particularly out of sorts, a good tip to get back in touch with yourself before centering or shielding is to spend some time in self care. Turn off your phone and go to your room or a friendly space in nature, a library, a favorite haunt and engage in a creative project, put on your favorite music, eat your favorite food. Be mindful of your physical space, your body, sensations your are experiencing. Be attentive to you and only you; your wants, needs, feelings, comforts, etc. Take a bath and allow yourself to relax. Your only responsibility right now is you have no responsibilities - if even for just a short while. Just do what you can to access some “me time” to do something you love to do and observe yourself. Take note of what you choose to do that brings you joy, why those things make you feel happy and fulfilled, how exactly these feelings and activities resonate with you. Record this in your Book of Shadows, as it is useful information to getting to yourself on a more intimate level. Learn to recognize this energy and get familiar with what it means to feel yourself. It can be easy to get lost. Centering can get you back, especially when you make these feelings more accessible to yourself.  To center, we’re going to go back to the exercise in the beginning; in a quiet place, meditate and rub your palms together - build up that energy between them again. When you pull your hands apart, you want to visualize this sensation. What color is it? What does it feel like? Is it light? Heavy? Is it vibrating? Focus on the pulsation and how it pushes against you. Allow it to move and grow. Picture it contracting and growing until you no longer can. Pull it in close to you, somewhere you can focus on it - many people use their solar plexus or heart chakras. This is the same energy you’re going to use to shield yourself. Instead of centering this energy, however, you’re going to push it out to envelope you. Visualization in your meditation and centering exercises should help with this; visualizing energy usually makes it easier for people to push it outward. Again, knowing what specifically makes this your protective energy will be useful - what color is it? Texture? Is it elemental? Perhaps your energy doesn’t feel like light, but water or air. Maybe white is a protective color to you or maybe green is, for Earth. Maybe your energy shield is a network of stars in the shape of your zodiac constellation. Maybe the outside is reflective, to reflect any negativity directed your way. Maybe its a shield of smoke, to conceal yourself. No matter what it looks like to you, just make sure it is yours. Don’t feel pressured to commit to something either - your idea of what these concepts look like will grow and change as much as you do.  Push this energy outward and around you, as if you are creating a protective bubble for yourself. To enhance the intensity of desired outcome, surround yourself with corresponding elements. Light white candles or wear black tourmaline. I personally like to use dragon’s blood incense or oils. There are many things you can do in tandem with any of these practices, so long as they make sense for you and are helping you to achieve your desired results. This shield will become stronger the more you do this and keep you protected from psychic attacks, curses and hexes, negative energy, and bad intent.  These exercises are all building blocks to unlocking great power within oneself, but they are also a great power on their own as well. Taking the time and patience to hone these skills will aid you in all your magical endeavors, whether through sharper focus, strong visual associations, enforced protective barriers, and/or knowing your true self above all else. Once you have established your abilities, you will be able to do them any time, anywhere and begin to play more with energy, both internal and external. In the follow up, I will focus on charging and programming. 

[thedreadvampy]

look it's very simple most main cast tma characters (except possibly Basira and Sasha and MAYBE Tim) are reacting to not just supernatural trauma but clear, explicit childhood trauma and I think that's important to take into consideration.

Jon evidently came from a difficult place in the first place, and he was taught that he was an unwanted annoyance who'd derailed his grandma's life, that his intelligence was unpleasant, arrogant and inconvenient, and that the worst thing he could do was get in a grown-up's way. Of course he's bad at talking to people about his feelings. Of course he apologises for seemingly random things and tries to hide big problems and power through on his own. He had a really lonely childhood where he felt like an inconvenience, and now in adulthood it's deeply difficult to believe that anybody will help him and not hold it against him. Of course he comes across staid and aloof - he doesn't believe that anyone will like him if he isn't Doing Everything Right. It's so easy in that situation to worry so much about not being a burden that you freeze your friends out even as they can see you spiralling and you end up hurting them when in fact they'd be more than willing to offer help and get you out. It's why addiction is such an easy hole to fall in, because it feels like a way you can be self-sufficient and deal with your feelings without being a burden. Jon ISN'T a very closed off person naturally, he wants to reach out and be close to people, but he's been taught over and over (as many autistic children are) that he's too much, that he takes up too much space, that it's unfair for him to expect people to go out of their way to help him, so he boxes it away and shoves it down and turns to cigarettes, paranoia and denial in an attempt to manage the problem by himself. He's trying so hard to not be the Weird Kid, he's trying to play the part of what he thinks an archivist and a boss should be and blah his way through; he knows believing in weird shit opens the door to all sorts of stuff so he sticks his fingers in his ears and goes LALALA. he's deeply avoidant which ironically is why he often ends up diving in recklessly - it feels safe to only put yourself at risk (you who think you don't particularly matter, are unloved, and are an annoyance anyway) rather than wait and let others get involved and either judge you or get hurt. He didn't tell ANYONE that his encounter with Daisy had hurt him for SEVERAL YEARS because he didn't want to upset anyone. This speaks to me so much of a kid who growing up was always treated as underfoot, in the way, abnormal and with emotions and problems that weren't nearly as significant as the Important Grownup Things. I don't think anyone knew how to help 5 year old Jon with navigating his parents' deaths, and his grandmother's grief at losing her child probably made it very hard for them to connect whether or not she actually resented him the way he thinks she did. He was treated with bitterness and coldness his whole childhood, and he's never been given space to be angry about that because she was doing her best and dealing with a difficult situation, but it certainly left him with an expectation that trying to turn to anyone for emotional help and support will get you in trouble AND is unfair on them. Being with Martin, and indeed all his friendships and relationships, is hard to navigate when you've been taught for so long that exposing your vulnerability will get you yelled at or will upset people. You try to harden up and develop an exoskeleton but you're so chronically soft and in need of help and love so it spills out messy and you don't know how to take the walls down or build better ones up.

Martin's obvious, because his parental abuse is at the centre of his arc and is explicitly spelled out by Elias. He's so sure it's something he's done that's made his dad leave and his mum despise him, and he's hoping against desperate hope that if he can be Good Enough, little enough of a problem, helpful and invaluable, he can make up for whatever chronic flaw in his personality makes him unlovable. Of course he ISN'T unlovable, and none of his parent's treatment of him is his fault, but it's much safer to believe it's your fault and you can change it than it is to believe people who are meant to love you can just not hold up their end of the bargain for reasons totally outside your control. Much like with Jon, Martin has been taught to believe that he's a Problem - where Jon puts up walls and tries to be aggressively separate, Martin tries as hard as he can to prove himself Useful and Valuable while walling off an excess of humanity. Honestly though Martin's coping with it better than Jon throughout the series because he knows what it is and he's TRYING to push past the impulse to Not Be A Bother and actually let people love him. But he's still seeing the world through the lens of someone who's spent his whole life believing that the only way he'll deserve love is to become invaluable, to be useful, to be caring, to be needed, to be all give and no take, and that's not sustainable. And how much must it knock him back from trusting enough to ask for help when his boss (leave aside the love interest bit) talks about him like he's a buffoon and a waste of space however hard he's trying to be helpful and valuable, just like his mum has for years? Finding out that you matter enough to that person for him to risk his life to save you, and to really truly see you, goes a long way towards showing you that you're not always right to assume that people are lying when they say nice things about you and honest when they say cruel things about you - sometimes you are genuinely loved by people who ALSO see you as flawed. and while obviously after that the circumstances are very different I think we've seen Martin become more comfortable with his own tendency to acidity and sarcasm, anger and messy feelings, around not just Jon but in general (although also I can't talk about this without as usual observing how weird it is that people read Martin as sweet, servile and wimpy when he's consistently tough, sarcastic and brave AS WELL AS deeply lacking in confidence, afraid of conflict, emotionally giving, and terminally people-pleasing. He's right when he repeatedly says people underestimate him and don't see him - it's weird that the fandom is a big culprit of that)

Speaking of characters whose trauma responses are often overlooked, Melanie doesn't talk much about her pre-statement life but she's clear that it hasn't been good, and that other than her dad she's had nobody in the world she can trust. I am positive that her childhood was marked by parental abuse/neglect to at least a certain degree, because she was willing to kill her mum/let her die without much compunction (I THINK that's the implication of Elias' line about her mum's life insurance paying for her dad's care). To me (projecting), Melanie's fear of losing control of her own anger speaks to somebody who grew up in a volatile and probably physically violent home, and I suspect her mother was struggling to cope and lashing out at Melanie and her dad. (I also think that while it's unlikely to be made explicit because Jonny generally shies away from talking it writing about sexual abuse, that it's very probable that Melanie experienced adolescent sex abuse from some source and wasn't protected or supported. That's pure conjecture though based on how she acts.) I think she's definitely had issues with everyone in her family except her dad when it comes to her sexuality and that she's been largely estranged for a long time, and I think those are the kinds of things which, coupled with abuse and sidelining in adulthood, leave you with a lot of rage and nowhere to put it, and with a huge amount of difficulty trusting people. Undeniably, Melanie has been on the sharp end of other people's violent anger often enough to be really, really wary of ever giving her own anger free rein, or losing control of herself.

We don't know much about Daisy's childhood beyond what happened with Calvin (Pretty Damn Traumatic), but I think what I find interesting about Daisy is that she's definitely someone who, like many girls, struggled with that point in childhood where you're supposed to Stop Liking Boy (Fun) Things and Become A Girl. I think it's safe to say that Daisy was fairly subject to bullying and alienation in primary school, and I think people often overlook how badly that affects you your whole life. But also to be severely injured and traumatised, to tell people what happened, and to not be believed? That leaves marks. Marks that teach you that you can't trust that justice will be served, and you have to take the law into your own hands. I think there's also a lot of the Gendered Traumas happening around Daisy - she clearly has a conflicted relationship with femininity - but that's another post.

[wyrd-weaver]

"𝔏𝔢𝔱 𝔐𝔢 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔜𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔅𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫."

Trigger Warnings: Suicidal Ideation, Mention of Self-Harm, Mention of Rape (That Resulted in Pregnancy), Mention of Binge Eating, Mention of Weight (By a Disgusting Man), Depression, Anxiety.

⤷ Remember: Every body type is beautiful, and you're legally allowed to maim those who say otherwise! The brief few sentences in this story are not accurate of any decent, sane individual.

Word Count: 1887

～～～～～～～～～～

Depression had you caged, shackled to the memories...the all-consuming sensations of horror and disgust. The very same that were forced upon you, that iced all your muscles twelve hellish months ago. Twelve! And yet, the nightmares refused to cease. Every evening, you battled demons most powerful and foul, acquiring scar after scar after scar. If you stumbled, if you lay down your weapon or lost...could you really be faulted? If this was Heaven's retribution, a cleansing of your contaminated, sinful body, then...was it not misguided? Surely a void replaced the evidence against you?

Blame should never have befallen you! This child, despite his mask of innocence, attested to humanity's ugliest side. Your heart was unravelling - you needed him, as an extension of yourself, as someone to cherish, but...you didn't want him. He wasn't the product of consent. He was loathsome...and a burden. He was so young, so dependent.

Casting him to the mercy of the streets would be more than a mere violation of morality. You already felt criminal - convicted on thoughts and false claims, serving a life sentence in the bowels of Hell. There was an escape, of course. Although...it wasn't accompanied by a light, or the gentle touch of a loved one. No...this escape was advertised as selfish, shameful...weak. And maybe so. Maybe life's greatest demand was the forgoing of happiness. But...to such an extent seemed excessive, and deliberately cruel. You shouldn't have been so dirty, so broken...an embarrassing stain on your family's name.

A single mother. A victim. A failure.

Plagued with flashbacks that favoured spontaneity above calculation, you carved miserable little lines on to your arms. Nobody knew - not your son, nor the Avengers...nor even Loki. They all harboured some form of trauma, however deep-rooted, and so...they had no need for your sob story. Who would care for someone so violated? Someone so...afraid? Your mind, weakened by fatigue and chronic worry, was simply too weak to resist those thoughts, and all hope had been drained from your heart. Why should you be tethered to life, if only for your child? Should you instead seek liberation, peace...joy? Decency discouraged it, but pain stood its ground.

With your dignity in shambles, your disowning, your binging...nothing felt right anymore! Nothing felt...clean. Loki had noticed, observant as he was. Here, sequestered within the walls of the Avengers' Compound, he was the closest to a friend...maybe even more.

No, no, no! I can't think like that! He's a man! A man! I shouldn't even be going near him anymore! Why, oh god...why is he the only one I'm not afraid of? The only one who can comfort me when I break? I can't...! I haven't even told him about...about...Well, I haven't told anyone! They all just think I slept with someone recklessly! And now...now I'm tainted, unlovable! This is...it's all my fault...I should have defended myself. I should have done something! Anything! Why...why did I freeze...? Why? Why?! Why?!!

Loki understood mental anguish and the torture of dissimilarity, as his birth-rights. Perhaps that was reason enough for your breathing to even, in his embrace. It had taken moths to allow such a privilege, and Loki's persistence, how his voice quivered as he begged to help you in any form...

You, whom he held so very dear...

You might have assumed his affections romantic, once upon a time. Yet...no longer. An ailment had struck you - one that rendered both eyes and ears ignorant to his double meanings, his implications...his love. You couldn't process them over the fear and paranoia. Didn't all relationships entail force, and...activities of a sexual nature? You never wanted to experience that again. Never! So, while sleep washed over the Compound, you crept to the kitchen, intent on expanding your waistline evermore. That your size may, to some, be cause for revulsion, had never previously occurred. It was only when the words danced on the tongue of that godforsaken man...

Eat, eat more! Who cares if you're sick? Keep eating! He said...he said that excess was unattractive. So - so maybe he won't...maybe I won't be...again...?

It had been dominance play, a show of superiority.

Loki would never steal something so sacred, unless you willed it.

He was a gentle soul, manipulated into committing an atrocity, and scorned - by the Avengers, especially. He wouldn't find any resonance in your tale (and you hoped he never would), but as a companion, a patient listener...surely there would be no judgement in his heart? He wouldn't be so quick to abandon you...right? Still, a single utterance of that day, of that most fright-inducing event...required courage far surpassing your own. Maybe...just a word? A sign? Something...?

Lonely was the path you wandered, in spite of Loki's presence. Alone, he failed to drown your demons. He held them under the waves, but they always returned.

You appreciated the effort. Plasters may cover your scars, but they could never heal your heart. Could Loki?...In time? If distorted thoughts of him were enough to ground you in the midst of panic...could he aid your recovery?

He also wondered that. Your deception wasn't half as masterful as you had hoped. Or perhaps you were simply the target of Loki's observations, and therefore came under frequent scrutiny. He had, of course, picked up on the subtle changes in your demeanour - particularly post-pregnancy. He idled at your side, throwing neither intrusive question nor accusation. This was at the behest of his conscience, although he longed desperately to ignore it. He wanted to know...what exactly happened last year, when your transformation began?

Your lips were sealed, but his very essence ached - sorrow, curiosity, love, sympathy and compassion all melding together within him. They ran amuck, refusing any whisper of sleep. His concentration had flown alongside it, rendering him unable to enjoy the book that rested in his palm. It had maintained a decent level of interest until now, but duty called. He would pry open your chamber door, glimpse your ethereal, sleeping form...and finally feel content. If you were strolling through dreamland, then his concern could dissipate. At least for a while. If not...he would discover why.

Loki hesitated outside your door, for if you were truly non-the-wiser, asleep...vulnerable, then a mere survey of yourself and the room would leave, on his tongue, a terrible aftertaste.

But, lo and behold, only your young son slept soundly, in his crib.

Loki was grappled now with a sense of alarm - where in Odin's name were you? And, pray tell...why was your child on his lonesome, cleansing himself of the prior day, in such a frigid room? He was wrought with grief upon recalling your distaste for the babe, and again when he realised there was no option to remove him, bring him to a warmer space, rock him and sing soft melodies...

Loki's primary goal was to find you, and perhaps...coerce you into confessing everything. From a true account of the day that always replayed in your mind, to your innermost feelings and thoughts...he needed to know, and to understand.

He had scoured half the building before laying eyes upon you. However...relief proved elusive. There were an endless number of questions, but none dared to grace the air. Why was your beautiful face stained with tears? Why were you eating, despite looking so sickly? What had troubled you so? And...could he kill it? He was unsure of the proper manner in which to approach you. He had always tread lightly, but complete silence and delicacy were more fortes of his mother. He swallowed down the nerves.

"(Y/n), darling...why aren't you sleeping?"

You startled, eyes bloodshot and a biscuit lodged between your lips. "U-Uh..."

He walked forward. "Is there something weighing on your mind?"

"...No?" This was mumbled, as though credence escaped you.

"My dear, you aren't a skilled liar. Talk to me, please." The heartache nearly tore him apart.

You wouldn't meet his gaze. "I...I can't."

"Please?" Both of your voices cracked, in unison.

Oh god, alright. Okay. This if fine...right? It's fine. I'm fine...Am I? What if I'm not?! I can't tell him just yet! But he looks so upset...I did this! I caused this! Oh god...just stay - stay calm! Calm down...calm down...

A tear trickled down your cheek, then another. "I-I've never...I don't want to - to relive it."

He brought you into a protective embrace. "Then you won't. I swear, by all the beings in the Nine Realms, that I will keep you safe. Please, let me share your burden."

Three sentences. Who was so weak-willed, that a mere three sentences shattered all their defences? You cursed his silver tongue. "(S-S/n)...! He - he's...I didn't...I-I don't want him! J-Just because I didn't fight back...I didn't try to run, he...t-that man, he did...things. To me. And now...now I'm so dirty! I'm disgusting...unclean, weak. B-But...sometimes - sometimes I think it's all in my head. But it isn't! I-It happened, and (S/n)! He's...he's the proof! He reminds me...o-of that..."

Loki froze. "What...?"

"But I-I couldn't - I couldn't tell anyone! They wouldn't...believe me, o-or care! People like me, they don't - this...this doesn't happen! Why...why did this happen?? A-And now...there's (S/n). And every...every minute is Hell! I can't take it anymore...I don't w-want to be here. I don't want to be...to be alive anymore..."

Loki could almost see the threads of rationality thinning. Who would...defile you, hurt you? You were so important, so genuine and...lovely. "I will find this man, and personally deliver his comeuppance. He never deserved your voice, let alone your touch."

"No!" You stiffened in his arms. "Then he'll...he'll come back..."

"If he does, I shall slay him." Yet, Loki made no attempt to leave. Instead, he slipped into a mask of composure, enough to continue speaking without seething. "I apologise...if you thought I wouldn't care. I do - more than you could ever imagine. You are the most stunning creature I have had the honour of meeting, in all my lifetime. I was resolved to spend my days at your side, never professing my love, but after hearing that...I..."

You panicked. "Loki...don't. Please-"

"I know it would be impudent to assume that you could accept me right now, but consider that...I can protect you. I will never let him, or anyone, hurt you again." Loki wiped away your crystalline sadness. "But, please...when you can't see worth or joy in this life...please come to me. I will be here to remind you of your victory - you survived such torture, and delivered a child. You are far from weak, (Y/n)."

Loki's fingers darted along your wrist. He yearned to kiss every scar, every inch of your skin.

Though, he would do nothing without permission. "Now, my dear...let's put these treats away. I would suggest that, henceforth, you eat balanced meals and partake in some fun activities. Perhaps I could read to you, one day? And venturing out for a walk - we can do that together. I...um, hope I'm not overstepping any boundaries. I'm simply thinking of ways to occupy your mind...and your time. You can do these things alone, of course..."

You nodded. "But...you'd - you'd do them with me?"

"I would gladly do anything with you, my love." Loki's words were empty of duplicity.

You were angelic - the only one safe from his lies.

[narcisismomaterno]

how to deal with a narcissistic mother?

(painting not mine)

some techniques can be used to "deal" with your narcissistic mother. however, first of all, it is necessary to emphasize that:

you don't have to deal with her, you need to deal with yourself.

. GRAY ROCK METHOD - since the narcissist is a person who seeks excessive admiration from others and, in the case of mothers, they see in their daughter a threat to that "admiration", a threat to their self-esteem, the more she observes (or is allowed to observe) your achievements, your minimum steps and happiness, the more she will be driven to seek narcissistic supply from you, ruining your source of happiness, for not being able to see you happy.

therefore, the gray rock method is born here as a possibility to diminish, even if little, those situations in which the narcissist will be feel threatened by you. It is important to remember that the method does not aim to cure the narcissist, to prevent her from being toxic, even because it is impossible for someone to change the personality of someone who has no desire to change. this method is only intended to minimize potential situations that are harmful to your mental and emotional health, giving you more peace of mind.

how to apply the gray rock method?

- basically, it consists of remaining neutral and without emotion when faced with a toxic, manipulative person.

EVEN IF THE NARCISIST IMPACTS YOU, DO NOT ALLOW HER TO KNOW THIS. STAY NEUTRAL IN FRONT OF HER (even taking into account that her greatest desire is to obtain pleasure by reducing her self-esteem and her mood).

ACT IN AN INDIFFERENT WAY WHILE SHE TALKS WITH YOU

DON'T TALK ABOUT YOUR LIFE, DON'T LET SHE HAVE ACCESS TO THE DETAILS OF YOUR LIFE

BECOME SOMEONE INACCESSIBLE FOR THE NARCISIST MOTHER. be monotonous, show little of your life to her.

SAY LITTLE WORDS, EVEN MORE IN THE SITUATIONS IN WHICH YOU NOTE THAT SHE IS LOOKING TO START A FIGHT

DO NOT SHOW INTEREST FOR CONTINUING A FIGHT THAT SHE BEGAN

DO NOT EXAGGERATE: without extremes, either of flattery, forcing yourself to be gentle, being excessively kind, or being extremely rude. act like a stone talking to her. you can't show emotions with her (note: it is important to focus on that word "her", because one thing you should also avoid is trying to act the same way with other people in your life, even more if you start to feel satisfaction in be so detached from her. remember: look for balance, don't be extreme, don't act in an excessive way with those who didn't give cause to receive it from you).

things you can start to DENY your narcissistic mother and that will help you to practice the gray rock method:

- ATTENTION

- OPINIONS

- VISUAL CONTACT

- GOSSIP

- BEING NEXT PHYSICALLY

- DISCUSSION

- MONEY OR OTHER MATERIAL GOODS.

this does not mean not saying anything at all to your mother, because even though this is ideal, we know the negative implications that this can have, even more so in the presence of a father or other facilitating person. then, talk (little) but without emotion, keeping yourself really neutral, without emotional involvement, with detachment, looking indifferent. the narcissist's mind will be exactly confused by not understanding why she is not managing to affect you emotionally. the narcissist wants he your emotions, and since she wants it, she also wants you to expose yourself emotionally by paying attention to her, talking to her. if you behave indifferently, she will tend to feel lost, as if she is losing her source of narcissistic supply.

in the words of the psychologist Skylar:

"When contact with a person is consistently unsatisfactory, without intense emotional reactions, your mind is reprogrammed to expect boredom instead of drama."

what we seek with this method is to reduce the narcissist's interest in you. can this be done at all times? no. does that mean that if she comes back to you to impact you, you’re doing everything wrong? no. because as I said above, the purpose of the method is not to cure or make narcissistic traits disappear, something that is not within our reach, but to use a strategy in order to, in some moments, reduce the possibility of her wanting impact you negatively.

"People do not have the power to hurt you; even if you are denigrated, beaten or insulted, the decision to consider whether what is happening is an insult or not is yours and yours alone."

As a personal experience, I briefly recount here that in some moments of practicing this method, I get the result of a mother who stays for days without even looking for me to do what she always did when I put myself more at her disposal, without noticing. she, who becomes bored and is led to believe that I have nothing interesting to give to her ego at that moment, starts to give her attention to several other things and people: things that I feel that give a great narcissistic supply to her: gossip programs showing the problems and failures of famous people, movies and series full of tragedies, reality shows, gossip and bad news constantly. consuming it not in a worried, reflective and minimally empathic way, but as if it were fun. so, even for a while, she takes the focus off me.

. ZERO CONTACT METHOD (or NO-CONTACT RULE)

this method tends to be one of the most effective and most relevant for helping a victim out of a cycle of abuse and dependence. however, not all people are able to apply it, which is completely understandable, considering that we are facing a dynamic relationship that naturally involves living under the same roof for many years.

zero contact consists of not looking for the person in any way and completely counting on any possibility of making contact with her. as the word already leads us to deduce, zero contact is an attempt to avoid the person in all ways.

how to apply it?

LOOK FOR NOTHING RELATED TO THE PERSON

DO NOT KEEP NEAR CONTACT WITH PEOPLE WHO KNOW HER, OR, IF YOU HAVE TO DO IT, TRY TO CONFIDENT A LITTLE OF YOUR LIFE TO THESE PEOPLE IF YOU FEEL THAT THEY CAN PASS INFORMATION TO THE NARCISSIST

DO NOT TALK WITH HER

DO NOT TALK ABOUT THE PERSON

DO NOT ATTEND THE MOBILE PHONE WHEN SHE CALLS YOU

DO NOT RESPOND TO MESSAGES

AVOID BEING CLOSE TO YOUR NARCISIST MOTHER, AND IF NECESSARY, AVOID THE PLACES IN WHICH SHE USES TO GO

and so on.

i hope it was helpful!

[boneswriteswords]

Jason reacting to his s/o drowning in the lake but bring saved by him last min?

A/N: You requested this like three weeks ago and I was so excited by it because it’s my first real request from the slasher fandom. I am sorry it took so long but I got really into it and then I hated all my drafts so I’m going to add my normal disclaimer of “This is bad and I am so sorry but I tried very hard.”

I tried to do a bit of research for this because I have never drowned. I have never experienced this. I struggled very hard with descriptions and emotions and maybe one day, when I suck less, I will come back and revisit this. 

~~~~

This wasn’t supposed to happen. No one was supposed to find you. You purposely chose the cabin farthest from the trails, surrounded by a thick cluster of trees, to make your home. People rarely got passed the perimeter of the lake before Jason got to them so there hadn’t been any reason for you to actively worry for your own safety, not this far into the woods. You knew where all the traps were, Jason had helped you set them up, and how to navigate the path he left clear on the off chance you needed to leave.

Jason was the softest man you had ever known but he wasn’t a fool. He made a survivor out of you when you decided that he was worth everything. He molded you into someone who could navigate and forage as well as he could, and you wore his pride like you wore his love.

Archery. Hunting. Fishing. Trapping. Reading weather patterns. You mastered them all under his watchful eye. They were precautionary measures taken seriously, on the off-chance that something happened to him and you were left vulnerable.

No one was supposed to get this far out though.

You weren’t planning on ever having to see anyone outside for the few times you went to town.

But they had.

Three people had.

Three very angry people who realized that, no you weren’t a prisoner that needed saving. You were living in the camp, of your own free will, knowing that Jason was out there.

Three very angry people that decided that they were going to get revenge.

And you fought. You fought hard. You tumbled and thrashed as they grabbed you. Your own knife – a gift from Jason - slashed into thick flannel and weak skin before it was knocked from your hand. You screamed for Jason, biting at the fingers trying to stuff the gag in your mouth, blood filling your mouth. You punched and kicked as they pinned and tied you down. You bruised and tore at any skin you could, desperation clawing at your chest.

But they had caught you by surprise and with their combined strength, they forced you into submission.

Things were a blur as one of the intruders lifted you over their shoulder, exchanging words with the other two about what to do next. You attempted to wiggle free but they were strong, a lot stronger than you, and tightened their grip.

“We could use her as leverage. That psycho knows she’s here. He’s letting her live. She has to have some kind of importance to him….”

They trekked down the beaten path, the one Jason left clear for you and you wondered how they found it. The sun was getting lower in the sky and you knew Jason was tracking them. He wouldn’t do anything while they still had you, he wouldn’t risk your life knowing that they were using you as their shield.

You weren’t worried though, he’d get them. He always did.

And you’d reward him for it, like you always did.

It felt like an eternity before they stopped, their boots clunking heavily as they made their way down the pier.  

“Hey asshole!” One of them shouts suddenly and you wiggled as the one holding you adjusted so he was carrying you bridal style. Jason was standing off to the side of lake, adjacent to the pier, and you could feel the fury radiating off of him. His emotions were subtle but, after spending so much time learning him, you knew from the line of his shoulders that he was enraged.

Your love was covered in fresh blood that you knew wasn’t his and you took a glance at your captors.

Their eyes reflected their loss, vacant aside from the echoes of their torment. For a moment, you felt sympathy.

But only for a moment.

They may not have asked for this but there was a consequence to every action and their actions led them here.

“We got your girl!” The one holding you continues, shaking you a bit in their arms. “If you let us go, we’ll let her go. If not, we toss her in the lake and you can watch her drown.”

Fear crawled along your ribs. Swimming was something you weren’t particularly skilled at on a normal basis but you knew how to make yourself float and paddle to shore. But tied up, gagged, and beaten?

You wouldn’t survive.

And there would be no one to save you.

Jason was terrified of going in the lake. He had no problems being on the piers or walking around the edges of it but submerging himself under the water was a whole different ballgame, one he wanted no part of.

And your captors knew it.

You kept your eyes on Jason, waiting, and from the way his body tensed, you knew Pamela was giving him instructions. Pamela spoke with him often, watching over her son the way a loving mother would. The land of Camp Crystal Lake was her domain. She oversaw everything. You didn’t understand a lot of how spirits interacted with the living but you did know she was capable of talking to people if they stayed on the grounds long enough.

She’s reached out to you several times for a quick chat. (There was something to be said about your level of sanity but you weren’t going to focus on that at the moment.)

The person holding you was twitching, fingers digging into your body, pressing into the bruises already forming. You can only imagine the bruised mess you are going to be after this.

For a few solid moments, it was quiet. No one moved.

And, in a move that you would have never expected from Jason, he dropped his machete onto the grass and held his hands up, surrendering. The tension eased from his shoulders. The emotions that rushed through you would take a while to unpack.

When you were free.

Your captors grinned, celebrating their apparent victory over the mighty Jason Voorhees. More jostling. More taunting. Manic smiles and obnoxious noise.m,

‘Ok now. You’ve won. You’ve bested him. Let me go.’ You thought as they as they started backing off of the pier, still hollering but wisely keeping their eyes on Jason. There was a sinking feeling in your stomach, panic clawing at your throat.

Jason took a step forward, lifting his hand and pointing at you. Your captors paused, still grinning as they looked between each other. The one holding you adjusts you in his arms.

And it hits you.

They’re going to let you go.

They’re just going to let you go into the lake.

You scream through the gag, thrashing as you are lifted over the pier and dropped. You can hear them running and the crash of your body hitting the water before everything goes silent.

The water is cold as it wraps around you, dragging what little air you have from your lungs. Beams of light scattered through the water, the silhouettes of the plants and fish casting odd and blurry shadows around you. The gag in your mouth swelled, the excess water dripping down the back of your throat, choking as you fought to preserve your remaining air.

You thrash again in sheer desperation, fingers flexing only to grasp nothing, but the ropes don’t budge.The light rippled along the top of the water, mocking you as you descended farther down, legs kicking feebly as you do.

The edges of reason disappeared as panic collapsed into numbness. All your survival training disintegrated, flitting away with the speed and dexterity of a hummingbird. Your lungs were burning, every second tightening your access to your air supply. The light dimmed around the edges as the surface drifted farther away from you.

‘I didn’t want to die like this,’ you thought, tears mixing with the lake water.  A heaviness descended, tendrils of death holding you close, and with it, you faded into darkness.

The sun was barely over the horizon when you came to, sputtering in harsh gasping breathes as your lungs filled with air. The pressure on your chest lifted and you curled to the side, dirty lake water evacuating your body in rapid bursts. Your clothes were soaked, sticking unpleasantly to your form as you learned how to breathe again.

After what felt like hours, you collapsed back into the dirt, eyes opening to see an equally soaked Jason hovering above you.

The sudden onslaught of emotions at the implications of his current state made you dizzy but oh, how you loved him.

“Jason?” you croaked, mouth cracking in the creases as you moved it, “Jason? Did- Did you-”

‘Did you jump in after me? Beautiful man, you must have been so scared. I am so sorry but I am honored you love me like this. Thank you. Thank you, my sweet loving man.’

A soft ‘ssh’ noise came from behind his mask, a big burly hand reaching out to stroke your wet hair from your face. He reached over and grabbed his jacket, discarded before he plunged in after you, and lifted your limp body into a sitting position to place it on you. The sun was setting slowly and once it was gone, the night air would bring a chill.

You grinned weakly, turning your head to look at him as he fit your arms into his jacket sleeves, marveling at how wonderfully lucky you were. He pulled back just enough to adjust you and he tensed, lifting the flap of his jacket to look closer at your shirt.

Or, more specifically, the blood spatter on your shirt.

A low distressed noise rumbled from him and you made the soft ‘ssh’ noise back at him, finding enough mobility in your hand to grasp one of his. His eyes met yours from behind the mask.

“It’s not mine, Jason. I promise.”

Your grinned widened as his eyes darkened behind the mask. He always got a little hot under the collar whenever you demonstrated how capable and downright vicious you could be. His grip on you tightened minutely, moving to press his masked forehead onto yours.

A loud scream filled the air and you jerked back, startled at the sudden noise. His hands gripped you tighter to keep you from flinging yourself all the way back into the dirt.

You knew that voice. You knew that scream.

You grinned, leaning back into Jason so your eyes met his.

“Take me back to the cabin and go get them Jay. I’ll be waiting.”

~~~~

END

~~~~

[pseudoneiiric]

meta post: ocd, mysophobia, and a revelation on my part.

not to mention that a really important part of lili’s backstory is… her germaphobia. she has persistent delusions accompanied by visual hallucinations where she sees people as “parasites”, which visually manifests as them rotting or decomposing. because of that, she wears gloves all the time and is repulsed by physical touch. but when she meets c (whose real name is vincent) in person, she pretty much instantly goes for skin-to-skin contact with him, where she takes off her glove and holds his hand. and like, sure, that’s sweet, but that’s really not how mental illness… works. in the slightest. she doesn’t react at all when his hand touches hers, despite the fact that she has literally had panic attacks in canon from touching things without her gloves. and it gives off this implication that mental illness can be cured with romance somehow, and that’s a really bad take!

this feeds into fandom understanding that like, well, if lilian sees vincent as pure and allows him to touch her, then Obviously she’d let him kiss her, they could probably have sex, etc. and like… she’s canonically asexual though! and that brings us to the other implication, that asexuality is somehow… caused by something. like, there’s nothing in canon to state that lilian experiences sexual attraction (or even really romantic attraction, like i know etherane went off in heaven’s gate and did a lot of ship tease, but she never really outright says she’s crushing on anyone), but judging from the way etherane handled lilian’s gender identity, i have a sneaking suspicion that she established lilian’s asexuality with her mental illnesses specifically in mind. lilian’s autistic, germaphobic, has severe ocd, and she’s been sexually assaulted in the past. therefore, she must be asexual! that’s the sort of vibes i get from the game, and im not here for it.

— me, circa november 2020

the other day, i was writing a crossover ship fic for lilian when i ran into a problem. namely, the Touch Aversion problem. at first glance, the reasoning behind lilian’s touch aversion seems really simple: she hates germs and dirty things, so she wears gloves and washes her hands so frequently that they blister. since she has ocd and mysophobia, it makes sense for her to be obsessive about cleanliness and for her passive skill to be listed as cleaning. she doesn’t touch q84 in canon even in life-threatening situations, except for the very end, because she hates touching people. when anri kissed her, lilian was so grossed out that she imagined anri as a parasite. and when it comes to her taking off her glove and holding vincent’s hand... well, 

but upon replaying hello charlotte 3 and doing a little bit of digging with regards to the actual symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder and mysophobia, i realized something. and this “something” was a game-changer.

so let’s start off by defining some things. obsessive-compulsive disorder, shortened to ocd, has several diagnostic criteria, which you can read here if you’d like the full clinical definition. for the sake of length, though, i will only talk about the most important part to take away from the diagnostic criteria.

ocd is not a fear of germs. ocd is not a fear of germs. ocd. is. not. a fucking fear of germs. obsessions may involve cleanliness. compulsions may include wanting areas to be clean. it is entirely possible for ocd to be accompanied by mysophobia, but a fear of germs is not inherent to the diagnosis of ocd. what is inherent to the diagnosis of ocd is a repeated and pervasive series of intrusive thoughts which cause the person with ocd debilitating anxiety or distress, and a set of compulsions that the person with ocd performs in order to mitigate said anxiety. these compulsions do not need to correspond to the actual obsession. a lot of obsessions don’t. for example, your obsession could be around disliking cluttered environments, but your compulsion could be pacing a hallway fourteen times back and forth while mentally reciting the preamble to the american constitution. in some cases, the compulsion is related to the obsession but is generally considered excessive. remember that ocd is not characterized by a need for cleanliness and that it is instead characterized by ritualistic behaviour accompanied by obsessive thought patterns.

i also want to talk about this section in particular, taken from the website linked above:

D. The disturbance is not better explained by the symptoms of another mental disorder (e.g., excessive worries, as in generalized anxiety disorder; preoccupation with appearance, as in body dysmorphic disorder; difficulty discarding or parting with possessions, as in hoarding disorder; [ ... ] ritualized eating behavior, as in eating disorders; [ ... ] thought insertion or delusional preoccupations, as in schizophrenia spectrum and other psychotic disorders; or repetitive patterns of behavior, as in autism spectrum disorder).

Specify if:

With good or fair insight: The individual recognizes that obsessive-compulsive disorder beliefs are definitely or probably not true or that they may or may not be true.

With poor insight:  The individual thinks obsessive-compulsive disorder beliefs are probably true.

With absent insight/delusional beliefs: The individual is completely convinced that obsessive-compulsive disorder beliefs are true.

i want to let the record show that lilian has several of these disorders. while i don’t believe that this disqualifies her from having ocd, i do think it’s important to note that there is comorbidity between these disorders.

i included this section on inslght because i’m going to go into depth why i believe lilian has absent insight/delusional beliefs. but in order to talk about that, we need to figure out just what it is that lilian is obsessively thinking, what it is that’s causing her so much distress. if ocd doesn’t inherently involve a need for cleanliness, then could it be that lilian’s obsessions revolve around her mysophobia? after all, mysophobia is germaphobia, so maybe she’s just scared of germs, and that’s why she’s always washing her hands.

so, let’s talk about mysophobia. it isn’t listed under the dsm v on its own, but it does exist (albeit not by name) under the umbrella term specific phobia disorder. you can look that up yourself, but from the research i’ve done, i can fairly safely say this: mysophobia, more commonly referred to as germaphobia, is not a fear of germs for the sake of fearing germs. it is a fear of being contaminated, sick, or infected, whether it be through other people or through the environment. symptoms of mysophobia include but are not limited to obsessive handwashing, an extreme avoidance of places that are deemed unclean, and excessive planning to avoid contamination. this separates it from ocd in that ocd involves ritualistic behaviours (like handwashing) to ease anxiety, whereas mysophobia involves these ritualistic behaviours to actually make the area cleaner. to summarize, mysophobic actions are directly related to the fear of contracting an illness.

okay, kids, what have we learned?

though ocd can be accompanied by mysophobia, the two of them are not synonymous. ocd is a pattern of obsessive thoughts and compulsive behaviours designed to ease anxiety surrounding those thoughts.

there are lots of comorbidities present with ocd and other disorders lilian has, such as autism spectrum disorder, body dysmorphic disorder, eating disorders, and psychotic disorders.

mysophobia is more accurately defined as being afraid of being infected or contaminated. mysophobic compulsions relate directly to the desire to eliminate contaminants, rather than being a self-soothing action to reduce anxiety.

now that we’ve laid the groundwork for analyzing lilian’s behaviour, let’s dive into canon. what can we say about lilian’s anxious preoccupations? what excessive planning does she undergo to avoid contact with germs? and, most importantly, why is she perfectly fine with holding vincent’s hand? (it’s still bad writing, but i found an explanation that makes it better)

the most obvious sign of both ocd and mysophobia present in canon is lilian’s intense preoccupation with handwashing. we only see this happen once, in hello charlotte 2.

i’ve removed some sections for the sake of length, but here are some revealing lines from lilian:

My fellow students smashed my head into a worm soup.

I can’t [stop washing my hands]. I’ve washed off [most] of the soup, but I still feel dirtied.

In fact, everything I touch feels contaminated. I can’t just shake off the feeling of disgust.

between ocd and mysophobia, this reaction seems very solidly linked to the latter. lilian’s head was dunked into soup, and she felt disgusted and contaminated, so she began to obsessively wash the soup away. the only other place where handwashing is mentioned is in lilian’s mind exhibition in hello charlotte 3.

in this poem, lilian attributes her handwashing to her ocd, where she writes, “wash and repeat! it’s not enough!” she doesn’t state in this poem if she does this to reduce the possibility of getting sick or if she does this as a compulsive ritual. both interpretations are plausible, given the vague statement “it’s not enough!”. perhaps it’s not enough because she still feels contaminated, or it’s not enough because she has not been rid of the anxiety caused by her intrusive thoughts. maybe it’s a little bit of both.

however, excessive handwashing does not a disorder make. sure, lilian washes her hands until they blister, but why? what is she trying to avoid? in the example in hello charlotte 2, she’s washing off soup. this is a direct response to an uncomfortable situation and not to an anxious preoccupation. in her poem, she offers no hint as to what is causing her so much anxiety that she needs to wash her hands compulsively. and once you start to pick through her behaviour in search of a thread of obsessive thinking, it starts to become clear that there might not be one.

the truth is, lilian’s actions in canon are generally inconsistent given the definitions listed above. her touch aversion is implied to be caused by her mysophobia, but she has no real plan for avoiding touch besides wearing gloves, which she ditches anyway when touching vincent. in heaven’s gate, it’s implied to be more of an aromantic or asexual thing. (i say aromantic because the scene was a little weird about not dividing the line between romantic and sexual attraction, so even though lilian’s canonically asexual, the scene was actually talking about kissing and dating and might have just been a ploy to get nonconsensual kissing in because that’s apparently mandatory in like every game anri appears in.) but that doesn’t make much sense either, considering that platonic and otherwise non-sexual touch is also off-limits.

we return to the intense, excessive and obsessive nature of both ocd and mysophobia. passing fears of contamination or infection don’t classify as mysophobia, and vague and isolated anxieties don’t classify as ocd. the individual has to be intensely preoccupied by these thoughts. however, in canon, lilian is generally not preoccupied with getting sick or dirty until it actually happens to her. her goal in life is to become a doctor, a profession that involves repeated and close contact with infectious diseases. she also takes care of her bedridden mother, which in many cases involves helping the individual with their personal hygiene. her mother is the reason why she wants to become a doctor in the first place, and since anri knows about this dream, it’s fairly safe to assume that this is lilian’s own dream, not scarlett’s. however, in hello charlotte 3, when q84 is wounded, she asks lilian to treat her wounds, and lilian’s response is as follows:

this is further reinforced when q84 is decomposing after having used her wish, and umbrella man states that lilian is fighting the urge to vomit. however, in the infirmary scene, lilian is quite comfortable with being physically close to q84, even when there is a possibility for skin contact. note how charlotte’s hair (which has the possibility of carrying bacteria, skin flakes, etc.) is close to lilian’s face, but how lilian seems quite content, even relaxed.

this is stressful! what is the truth?

on top of that, we know for a fact that, despite being mysophobic, lilian has no issue (at least in hello charlotte 2) with using public bathrooms at school, something that is generally a huge obstacle for people struggling with mysophobia. in true realm, this is never addressed, which lends credence to the idea that she simply doesn’t worry about the transmission of germs in shared spaces like bathrooms, nor is she worried at all about using anri’s smartphone to take blackmail pictures when screens are generally a hotbed of germs. we could say that she makes such liberal use of her gloves that she doesn’t even think about the germs living on them (unlikely), but then she’d likely have a panic attack when she does things like touch her face, which she does in at least one of her sprites.

in fact, the only thought she has about cleanliness in true realm flashbacks is in one of the final ones. she thinks the following: “we lie on the floor for a long time. i briefly wonder if it’s properly vacuumed.” this is, like, a normal thought. i can’t stress enough how normal this thought is and how quickly this thought passes. i cannot stress enough how little she cares about the cleanliness of this floor.

so, like, what gives? why does lilian wear gloves? why does she say she’s squeamish in false realm or want to throw up when holding charlotte? and most importantly, how is she mysophobic when she doesn’t seem to fear germs at all?

the answer fucking blew my mind, folks. are you ready? here it is.

This world is swarming with parasites. Tiny. Invisible. Tenacious. Once they outwit your immune system, they eat you from the inside. Use you as an incubator for their offspring. Control your mind and alter your personality. They keep reproducing, and reproducing, and reproducing, endlessly reproducing. Until every single person is consumed by the disease.

from this excerpt, we can glean the following:

the parasite lilian is describing is a disease that targets the immune system;

the parasite functions by controlling its host like a puppet and altering aspects of their personality, potentially causing them to act in a way that is uncharacteristic; and

the parasite’s goal is to reproduce and to eventually infect everyone in the world.

these are the very first lines in the very first flashback to true realm. an echoing of these very lines are found later, when lilian is saying them to q84. note that, according to etherane, it has been many, many years since these words have first been uttered. but lilian manages to quote them verbatim. given that she can recite these lines perfectly years after her death, it seems that this is a comforting mantra about the world’s truths. and from that, we can gather that repeating this mantra is one of her compulsions, alongside handwashing.

this is it. this is the root of lilian’s mysophobia. these lines accurately explain a pervasive delusion that manifests both in lilian’s thoughts and in her visual hallucinations. more accurately, it is the mantra that describes the “o” in lilian’s ocd and the illness that causes her mysophobia. the parasite is the disease she’s afraid of contracting, and that fear is the intrusive thought that brings her so much anxiety. i tried to compile a list of all the times lilian or someone modelled after her has mentioned contamination, a preoccupation with purity, a parasite, a tumour, rottenness, or anything relating to this core concept, but there was just... so much. the entire world of hello charlotte is based around parasites and mind control. the deus ex machina of this world is a parasite itself. all charlottes have the disease. this world is literally obsessed with the delusion lilian’s held her whole life.

and now that we’ve framed it like that... is it any wonder that this is the obsessive thought? something we’d previously assumed to be a persistent metaphor is actually an intense preoccupation. lilian’s inconsistent actions in canon make sense because she’s not worried about contracting a physical illness, but rather a mental one that’s linked to a persistent delusion of hers. throughout canon, we see no instances of lilian questioning this belief, leading her to be classified as having absent insight/delusional beliefs.

before i continue, i want to mention that the pitfall many hello charlotte fans fall into, and the one i myself have fallen into in the past, is assuming that lilian was always unable to touch others. though she wears gloves throughout the entirety of the true realm flashbacks, she was actually alright with making contact with others up until a specific point in her life. and, interestingly enough, it was not vincent's death that spurred on this change. a full three months pass between his death and the time when lilian's mental health took a nosedive. the critical moment of change involves the very last flashback: 531 days before the trial.

lilian and anri decide to run away together. however, lilian was actually planning a double suicide. upon learning this, anri grows agitated, punching lilian and pinning her down to the floor. it's at this point that lilian realizes anri's feelings for her. after anri kisses her, she becomes a parasite. when lilian gets home, she checks on mother and realizes that mother has become a parasite as well.

from this day onwards, lilian begins to see everyone in her life as a parasite. she says it herself: "That moment I realized. I could never touch a human being ever again." this is the start of her intense touch aversion and marks the beginning of the end of her life. it’s at this point that lilian becomes physically repulsed by everyone around her and the environment she exists in, and these feelings generally persist, albeit on a lesser scale, in false realm.

but what is the parasite? in true realm, the parasite is only described in lilian’s mantra, but there are several nuances to the definition that go unexplained. however, in false realm, parasites take a variety of forms. similarly to how scarlett and umbrella man are reflections of lilian’s inner self that take shape as their own entities within false realm, lilian’s definitions for what a parasite is also breaks off and takes shape into various different forms after her death. when we examine what parasites are in false realm, we can begin to understand what makes someone turn into a physical deformity in lilian’s eyes and why she’s so afraid of the parasite in the first place.

there are three kinds of deformities in false realm. there is the oracle (left), the bullies (upper-right), and the faceless (lower-right). these are not all official terms, but they’ll be the ones that i use going forward.

the oracle is the entity that most closely follows the original logic of the mantra — it is an entity that rapidly multiplies (either through a race like the pythias or organically through cell division as it does in hello charlotte 3) and forms a collective out of several individuals. hello charlotte 2 explains that unification of a civilization is an arduous and painful procedure involving the slow loss of individuality until the race completely submits to the will of the parasitic host. the oracle is, to summarize, an entity that can “control your mind and alter your personality”. the oracle is the only parasite that ever enters another’s body. the other two forms of parasites are never called parasites themselves, but show visible deformities that house tenants and other important characters do not.

the faceless visually signify a lack of importance. these people do not do anything special. in some cases, they appear as a literal amalgamate, showing a hive-mindedness even if they are not being controlled by the oracle. these individuals are usually treated neutrally, and are not generally considered “bad”. they are simply narratively unimportant. by contrast, bullies do have faces, but they are vastly distorted and exhibit bright colouring. i may talk a bit more in a future post about colour symbolism and how it plays into both lilian’s and q84′s mysophobias, but to briefly summarize: the presence of colour is considered a contaminant, whereas white is considered an absence of colour and therefore “pure”. therefore, the brightly-coloured bullies are contaminated. these individuals show corrupted behaviour. they hurt others for personal gain, and are generally considered irredeemable.

in true realm, however, we see no such stylistic distinction. however, though they are not represented visually, the parasites in true realm show the same patterns as the oracle, the bullies, and the faceless. .

now that we have determined what the parasite is, we can determine how the parasite spreads. as previously stated, the parasite does not spread through shared surfaces or skin contact, as normal viruses do. lilian herself seems to treat it like it's just chance, like the parasite just chose to infect people randomly. but there are some things that she says that lends credence to the idea that the parasite is discriminate. after all, though her delusional belief is that the parasite will attach itself to any host it comes into contact with, this delusional belief did come from somewhere. and after examining the process of contamination over the course of the two or so years we see of her life, i believe this belief stemmed from her black-and-white views on good and evil and her penchant to see life as a narrative.

the first outcropping of parasites in lilian’s life were likely the faceless. she seems much less perturbed by them, and seem to view them as simply background pieces. this may be because of her belief in “protagonist” characters. in false realm, q84 makes liberal use of the term “npcs”, though all charlottes seem to have a concept of other students being faceless and subservient to them. this is a tenuous connection, but i believe lilian shares a similar belief. she may consider others "narratively unimportant”; that is, lacking direction or initiative, or perhaps simply not making an impact. she prides herself on being an observer, but she is undeniably the self-hating protagonist of her story. she says that if there is an afterlife, she doesn’t want to be its protagonist. this implies that on some level, she’s considered herself the protagonist of her own life. it’s definitely plausible given lilian’s tendency to project negative traits on others for her to see herself as comparatively good or blameless. by placing her own negative traits onto scarlett, for example, lilian creates a shaky ideal self. in other words, she creates a somewhat worthy protagonist.

and worthiness is incredibly important to lilian. a strong recurring theme in hello charlotte is the notion of “goodness”, especially when it relates to being polite. for example, in hello charlotte 1, a door refuses to open for you if you don't say please, and will call you insolent. all charlottes strive to be a “good girl” because their mothers told them to. interestingly enough, this is also what lilith tells lilian in true realm. since all charlottes have this strict adherence to being a good girl, this must have been very impactful for lilian. being considered “good” must have been very important to her. and being considered “bad” must have been similarly devastating.

knowing that charlotte is lilian's self-insert oc makes things even clearer. charlotte embodies an extreme selflessness, wanting to sacrifice herself for the good of others at any cost. any desire she has to be saved is rapidly dismissed as selfish, and she repeatedly states that she doesn't want to be a burden. charlotte's character makes a clear statement: good people are not burdensome. good people have faith in humanity. good people believe in others, and they help others even if the other person doesn’t deserve it.

the delusion is lilian’s failsafe. it’s her way of ensuring that she could never consider herself a bad person or a burden. in creating the narrative of a contagious parasite infecting the world, lilian is protecting herself from personal responsibility, both in herself and in others. instead of maintaining her belief that some people are evil, which she would consider a Bad Belief to have, she believes that they have simply caught a contagious disease. the bad-person disease, if you will. and since that disease alters the mind and personality of its hosts, these people are not directly responsible for their actions. here, lilian is absolved of hating people who hurt others. now, like charlotte, she can simply wish for their recovery. because they aren’t choosing to hurt others. they’re being manipulated into it by an invisible, malicious, contagious puppeteer.

a similar logic is applied to those lilian finds burdensome. since good people, in her eyes, can make themselves a martyr no matter the circumstances, it would be considered very bad if lilian could not do the same. this is evidenced when mother turns into a parasite. in that scene, lilian thinks the following:

It'd be easier if my mom was a workaholic who was never home. It'd be easier if we hated each other. It'd be easier if I didn't remember the days when she was still full of energy. Who would want to admit [to] their parent giving up on life and slowly rotting in the bedroom? Who would admit to thinking of their only parent as a parasitic existence? After that day, nothing was the same anymore.

in this instance, the word “parasite” is used to describe a leech, someone who constantly takes and never gives back. and in using this word to describe them, lilian relegates them in her mind as bullies, because she can’t admit to feeling burdened.

we see this also in anri. it’s not the physical action of the kiss that turns anri into a parasite. it’s the realization that anri has always had ulterior motives, that anri expects something of lilian. and lilian, feeling burdened, projects her own guilt about her lack of reciprocation onto anri. even at the end of her life, when she’s in the ocean, she reveals that one of her greatest regrets is not being able to reciprocate anri’s feelings.

vincent, on the other hand, is a charming stranger. he never gives lilian any reason to suspect that he may have ulterior motives. he’s successful, driven, popular, and talented. in many ways, he’s everything lilian wants to be. and since she doesn’t meet him for a long time, she can imagine him to be simply “the blinding icon on her screen“. she can project anything she wants onto him, and she chooses to project hope onto him. with his politeness, his charm, his compliments, he appears to be the ideal human. like lilian, he has managed to avoid being infected by the parasite. lilian grows attached to this interpretation, just as she grows attached to the mutuality of her friendship with anri, and just as she grows attached to her love for her mother. lilian doesn’t want to think of these people as parasites. in vincent’s case, he dies before he ever gets the chance to burden her. rather, he leaves her with the guilt of not being able to follow him and a misplaced idolatry of him and his beliefs.

the parasite, being a visual representation of perceived evil intent, seems to be non-contagious in nature. this doesn’t change, though, that lilian believes it is contagious. she wants to spend time with people she has deemed good, and to avoid bullies. however, the simple act of feeling burdened is enough to make lilian believe that the parasite is spreading at a breakneck rate and that the world she lives in is becoming more and more contaminated. once she feels she’s lost her support system, the parasite begins to spread, and she begins to feel less and less inherently good. it’s clear that the people around her had a stabilizing effect on her. but once she feels abandoned, her unhealthy coping mechanisms begin to catch up to her. lilian describes herself as filthy by the end of her life, and it’s very likely that she feared becoming a parasite herself if she were to continue down the path she was on.

the last piece of the puzzle is this: what saved anri and mother for so long, and what saved vincent from becoming a parasite altogether? after all, anri is a perfect candidate for developing the parasite, and arguably, so is mother. both of them rely on lilian for different things, and anri actively engages in blackmail. it would be simple as well to see c as disingenuous or fake. but lilian doesn’t entertain any of those thoughts, either for a very long time or at all. why?

the answer is simple. the people that lilian loves are less likely to be infected by the parasite. even if they are infected, she is kinder to them. after anri says she’ll leave lilian, after her confession and her subsequent contamination, lilian lets anri cuddle her. she even hugs anri tightly before they part, and keeps in contact with her until... well, just before she commits suicide. despite the relationship between lilian and her mother being one-sided, lilian holds onto pleasant memories of her mother because she doesn’t want to believe that she could feel burdened. and lilian is so attached to her love for c that she doesn’t see anything wrong with him.

all of this is to say that lilian’s touch aversion does not stem from physical cleanliness, but rather her perception of the other’s purity. this means that she’s not only willing to touch others if she deems them a “good person”, but that she is actively okay with it. this is evidenced even in false realm, where she is alright with exchanging casual moments of intimacy with charlotte and q84, such as in the “take my hand” scene and in the infirmary scene. since she loves these individuals, she sees them as inherently better people than she would if she viewed them objectively. this is a game-changer when it comes to touch-aversion. with respect to the charles/vincent ships where lilian’s okay with kissing... that’s a different story. even though saliva may not trigger her mysophobia, we’ve seen on multiple occasions both in canon and in heaven’s gate that lilian is indifferent to mouth-kissing at best. however, she is definitely comfortable with some displays of physical affection with those she cares for, and is generally willing to excuse much more when it comes to those she loves.

thank you for reading this post in its entirety! i did not expect it to get this long, so if you got to the end, i just want you to know i love and appreciate you SO much