#not even necessarily in an intrusive thoughts way

[princesssarcastia]

alright its late, way past my bedtime, which means its fine if i release a bit of my top gun writing for the first time, right?  right. 

this is a snapshot from a sequel (that i haven’t written) to a story (i haven’t finished), because why should I follow time and behave in a linear fashion?

anyway.  thinking about Rooster attending Ice’s funeral as someone who’s not only estranged from the family, but was, up to this point, actively antagonizing and trying to drive away the person closest to him (i.e. Maverick).  thinking about Rooster as someone with a lot of anger and, on a normal day, nowhere to direct it but inward.  thinking about what being furious at the people you love most in the world for 20 years would do to you, as a person.

and also, as always, thinking about the Yearning™, even and perhaps especially from pov outsider.

(edit: now with an extended version on ao3)

...

No wife.  No kids.  No one to mourn you if you burn in.

Bradley knows it’s not true, even as he says it.  But they’ve all been living Uncle Mav and Uncle Ice’s lie for so long, it’s easier to spit out in anger than the truth.

That does nothing to relieve his impulse to choke himself out right now.  If he’d known Uncle Ice was sick again—

But he didn’t know.  No one knew.  Not even the rest of the Uncles, if he can still read their expressions right after years of distance and without the uncanny, graceless intuition of a child to help him.  Maverick…he can’t tell with Maverick.  The man could never be angry with Ice, not for anything, and he’d be no less devastated with forewarning than without.  His other uncles seem pissed as hell through the tears, though.

He feels like complete and utter shit for having said that to Maverick, because he might as well have been setting him down on an oil slick right before fate threw a match.  It’s not—he’s not unaware of the effect he has on Maverick.  Bradley knows what the distance between them does to his father; it’s just that normally he’s too angry with him to care.

Right now, he cares.  And it’s disgusting, grief clearing his eyes enough to show him what a bastard he’s been.  

If he’d known—

God, what he wouldn’t give for one last family dinner at the Kazansky house.  Uncle Ice and Aunt Sarah and Maverick, all his cousins, whichever of the Uncles were in town at the time…they filled out the dining room, filled it up with laughter and delight and love and it made the years after his mom died more than bearable; it made them worth living.  

[jyoongim]

ANON ASKED: realder is a shy doe that’s like 5ft. She pretty much avoids Alastor like her life depends on it, because he makes her uncomfortable, and of course he knows he does. She goes into heat, but doesn’t find a partner. She just gets very tired and just goes into hibernation. Alastor find that very interesting to say the least. After staying at the hotel for so long, their heats sync and its a mess for him and she isn’t aware of it.

Degrading, voice kink, size kink, and breeding kink. Ear and tail pulling??? Fem! Reader receiving

So i think i missed a few marks and then it spiraled but i did my best to fulfill your request as best my ability!!!!

@animeloveruwu1234

As the weather got colder, you started to rarely be seen around the hotel. Your heat was rolling around and the urge to nest was nagging you.

You sighed, rolling out of bed and heading down for breakfast.

You were greeted with the scent of warm deliciousness. You pile your plate full of food, opting for more sweets and meats to the surprise of the other residents.

“ Christ.  Slow down Toots, you’re gonna choke.” Angel laughed as you munched happily on a avocado toast sausage bacon mix.

You giggled “Its winter Angel, i have to pack on some weight. I tell you every year” Your ears perked in alert when static ran up your body. Your ears drooped when Alastor entered the kitchen. “Why what a fine hellish day it is!”

He hummed as he waltzed past you, you nearly choked on your food when he leaned over your shoulder, looking at your plate “Didn’t take you for the cannibalism type doe” grinning as you looked away, huffing ”its cooked” as he stole a piece of ham.

“Does typically pick up weight in the winter. They have to fill out in order to provide for fawns. They make for excellent pickings during hunting season” Alastor said as he buttered his toast, eyes on you as you squirmed slightly.

Angel and Charlie gawked “You’re gonna have a baby?!”

Your eyes widened “What!? No! Its just a deer thing. No fawns anytime soon” you blushed. Shaking your head you stood from the table, excusing yourself.

You weren’t necessarily afraid of Alastor, you had been around him long enough to get use to tolerate him, but the stag still made you uncomfortable, even after all this time around him. He reeked of dominance and power and your much softer nature did not mesh well with his intimidating one.You usually only spoke a few words to him, always excusing yourself to get away from him. 

Like now, the comment about deer season had your skittish nature taking over, not liking the idea of potentially being a target.

Alastor chuckled as you walked by him. Your cute fluffy tail twitching, begging to be tugged on Alastor blinked at the intrusive thought.

That was new. He shook it off as just a sadistic moment. 

————————————————————————————-

You curled in your pile of blankets as your heat raked through you.

Over the last few days, Charlie was so kind to leave you food and water so you didn’t have to go to the kitchen.

But you were itching for fresh air. Stretching your legs would do you some good.

Maybe you would find a partner to mate with on your outing.

You took a deep breath of fresh air as you exited the hotel, sighing happily. You bobbed around the city, nose sniffing out any potential males.

After a while your body started to heat up and you were going tired. You weren’t successful as most demon you met were either too eager to keep you tied up or not interested.

oh well.

As you approached the hotel a faint musky scent had your senses in a frenzy. You subconsciously followed the faint scent and ended up in the kitchen. No one was in there, but a tray of food was perched on the table, probably for you.

The last few weeks you were eating way more to keep up the energy that was burning through you.

You stuffed your mouth as you sniffed again, sighing deeply as the scent seemed to fog your head.

You had your fill and went to retreat to your bedroom, when you bumped into a solid chest.

Your ears perked at the sound of a faint growl and static.

”Careful doe” a deep voice purred.

Alastor.

You took a step back, ears furrowing back “Oh! I’m sorry Al”you looked up at him.

The tall red demon smiled down at you, but something seemed off.

His smile looked strained, and his ears were flickering about, eyes narrowed. He looked slightly flustered.

Your instincts had you look over him, to see if you could find the sense of his discomfort.

You hand reached out to press against his forehead, his skin was clammy.

Alastor didn’t flinch from your touch or slap your hand away, instead his head leaned into your hand, making your head tilt in question.

”Al? Do you feel alright?” Your eyes filled with worry. Alastor hummed, a sharp claw clasping your chin as he chuckled “Oh its nothing I cant handle dear.” You nodded, taking his word and made your way back to your room.

You curled in your nest as you thought about how strangely the demon was acting. But maybe it really was nothing.

————————————————————————————-

Alastor had smelled the most delicious scent waft across his nose. It smelled familiar but it was just too sweet to pinpoint who it belonged to. So he followed it.

The scent led him to the kitchen where he found you. 

The little doe was having her filling, consuming some food, stuffing her soft cheeks with whatever was on the tray.

You looked plumper. Softer. For as long as he had known you, your heats were interesting to witness.

You tended to eat more, your usual slim figure filling out to accommodate the energy you burned. You often hid away when you were in heat. Something that Alastor found interesting.

Most does sought out partners to satisfy them, but not you.

He had overheard you how most of the times you did go seeking partners but no one tickled your fancy enough.

Something about that made his chest tingle.

No one would be able to satisfy you like he could his instincts screamed.

With another deer around, your heats triggered his ruts.

He had never interacted with you while in a rut, so when you bumped into him, he wasn’t ready for the consequences.

You let out a cute little squeak when you collided with his chest, ears perked as you registered the static he let off.

He felt his cock stir in his pants as he breathed in your scent.

Your heat must have been flaring as he could taste how your cunt smelled.

His ears furrowed against his head, the only indicator that something was wrong. He kept up his composure as you nervously apologized. But as he too was in rut, he was sure he was showing some signs, as you asked if he was ok.

He tensed up as he felt your hand on his cheek, but leaned into your touch.

Your soft voice laced in concern as you looked over him, checking to make sure he wasn’t ill.

Oh what a naive doe.

It was taking every bit of control he had to not take you against the kitchen table.

how would you look as he took you? 

Would you beg him to make a mess of you?

Would you let him breed you to the point your cunt dripped with his cum?

He let out a low growl once you left the kitchen, turning his head to watch your full ass sway as your tail twitched about.

———————————————————————————

A knock at your door had you stirring awake from the comfort of your makeshift nest.

You were much too tired and had no desire to answer whoever was on the other side of the door. Your heat was at a all time high and the stickiness between your thighs, a result of your abusing your poor clit for relief.  If it was Charlie, then she would just leave food at your door. Your eyes started to drift close, the sweet call of sleep sounding so appealing. 

Your ears twitched at the knock again, a soft growl escaping your throat.

Your tired brain did not catch up with your nose as you swung open the door, tired eyes widening as you are face to chest? With Alastor.

You keened your neck to look up at him; head tilting as the red demon peered down at you with black blown out eyes.

”Al?”you asked confused, rubbing at your eyes sleepily.

”Apologies my dear, did I wake you?”  He asked, head tilted, voice feign concern, his red ears erect and honed in on your soft panting, eyes narrowing at he took in the slight coat of sweat on your skin and how disoriented you seemed.

You nodded wordlessly, now highly aware that you, a doe were in full heat, evidence of that clinging to your thighs, and a stag was at your door.

Your heart sounded in your ears as your eyes raked over Alastor, accessing him.

Taking mental notes of mating potential instinctively.

“I thought you were Charlie…she usually leaves me food”

He hummed, a clawed hand coming up to your face to grip your chin. You blinked. Body buzzing.

Alastor’s instinct were screaming to push you back into your room and claim you in your nest, and satisfy the burn in his body.

Your scent had basically coated the hotel in its sweet smell. The scent making his cock twitch and antlers itch.

And the scent of your cunt had his mouth watering.

And he will have his fill.

”Your heat must  take a lot out of you dear” his hands reached to soothe your tense shoulders, fingertips massaging the flesh. You stayed still as his hands roamed your body, softly pawing at the curves you gained from your heat. 

His lips nipped at your soft ear, purring into it “I could provide assistance if you like?”

 Your tail wagged as you gulped “A-Assistance?” You asked. 

From your time around the red demon, you have never known him to willingly help people. Alastor maintained a sense of control in every situation, twisting and bending the rules to be in his favor.

A doe in heat should be easy to manipulate.

”Yeeeessss anything you want my dear! Think of it as ‘I scratch your back so you can scratch mine’ type of deal hmmm?” He chuckled darkly, slowly backing you into your room.

————————————————————————————-

Soft moans filled the room, accompanied by the hum of static as Alastor sucked at your clit.

You were sprawled out on your back in your nest, knees on either side of Alastor’s head as he lavished your clit with his tongue.

You panted as his tongue dipped into heat, thighs shuddering as it curled and lapped at your juices.

”H-Hah!! Ah! Ah! A-Al!” You whined, toes curling when he sucked the sore bud into his mouth. You tugged at the big antlers that separated your legs.

He had already made you cum on his fingers twice; cooing into your neck as you cried, cunt clenching around the digits like a vice.

Alastor grunted lowly, nipping at your clit with sharp teeth before sucking it back into his mouth. A finger dipped to fill you as he flicked your clit. Your gummy walls squeezing him, contracting at the intrusion but welcoming him into its depths.

He cooed around into your cunt, eyes looking up at you.

Your face was flushed and slick with sweat. Hands at your breasts, pulling and massaging your perky nipples.

Pouty lips parted as your moans tore from your throat.

”oooh c’mon doll, one more. You’ve been doing so good.”

Your body felt like it was burning. Each orgasm fogging your head with pure desire to be sated properly.

Your hips followed the rhythm of his tongue, using the hold on his antlers to ride his face.

 Alastor let you be. Happily curling his finger inside you as he lapped up your essence.

Your back arched as a third orgasm ripped through you, teeth clenching as your hips twitched in overstimulation, but riding it out to make the sensation last.

You sighed as you went limp, eyes hazily looking up at the ceiling, waiting to fall back to earth.

But you didn’t have the time to tuck your legs back in and roll over to sleep, when Alastor adjusted himself onto his knees and pulled you flush to his hips. 

A surprised “Ah!” Escaped your lips as your cunt was filled to the brim. 

With cock.

Alastor growled, hissing as finally your cunt so asked around him, unsure whether to welcome him. A harsh thrust broke what little resistance your walls gave and had you mewling.

“Oh fuck!”

Large claws kneaded at your fleshy thighs, holding them to your chest as his hips crashed down into yours, cock hitting that sweet nerve over and over, making you coat his cock in creamy slick.

”Al-Alastor! Ha! Nggh ooh fuuuck me!” You cried, tears forming in your eyes as he pounded your count.

”You would think after all this time, I wouldn’t blink when you’re in heat. But oh darlin’ you always know how to catch my interest.” He goated lightly, a claw coming up to your parted lips, his thumb pressing inside as you sucked subconsciously on the digit.

His eyes narrowed at you, pulling his hips back to snap them forward as a response.

”Do you know how divine you smell? Just walking around with a dripping cunt without a care. Many demons would kill to fuck a cunt this appealing”  a dark smirk curled on his lips when your cunt made a wet sound. “And Ill kill many demons to keep it to myself” he purred setting out a rough pace, claws on your round hips to pull you into his thrusts, keeping his cock nestled within your warm cavern.

Alastor was fucking you in your nest

A place sacred for only a doe’s mate

did that mean…was he?

Your brain was reeling. It couldn’t keep up with the sensations that were raking through your body. Your hands found purchase in the surrounding blankets as you let out moans that if you were in your right mind, would have left you embarrassed.

”mmhmm hmmm nngh Ah! Hhhaaa!” Your body jolted with his thrusts, the squish squelch noise of your cunt, echoing in your ears.

”Oh what a sweet doe you are my dear. I’ve always wonder what lied under that shy demeanor. And my my I wasn’t disappointed. A whore willing to spread her legs and be mounted.” You whimpered as he manhandled you onto your belly, knees barely supporting you as he slotted himself back inside you. You felt a heavy weight on your head, tugging to force your body to bounce on his cock.

when did your horns come in? 

You hadn’t realized it, but you had transformed into your demon form. 

and fucking hell were you gorgeous Alastor thought, hands wrapped around your slender horns and using them to control your movements.

Your tongue hanged out your mouth as your ass took the brute force of his thrusts. Alastor’s cock felt amazing.

Better than you could have imagined and so much better to scratch that lusty itch.

There was a puddle forming underneath you, soaking the bed, making the skin of Alastor’s thighs stick to yours.

Finally getting a look at your backside, Alastor felt his cock twitch as his eyes roamed down to where his cock was disappearing into you. His eyes zeroed in on your tail.

His hand dragged down your back, sharp claws cutting slightly to make blood ripple done your back. He wrapped his hand around your tail, softly twindling the tuft of fur before pulling.

A high-pitch moan left your throat. Your cunt clenched around him in response.

interesting he thought smiling as he used his grip on your tail to really make you take his cock deeper.

Your cunt was a soppy mess.

”Oh you like your tail pulled on dear? What a nautghty girl” Alastor chortled as he rocked his hips into you.

You were completely dazed with lust, that tingling knot forming in your stomach.

”please” you begged, pushing your hips against him, mewling as his hit the sponge that had you feeling sparks.

Alastor leaned over to your ear, never breaking his pace.

”hmmm? What was that dear?” He taunted cruelly.

”are you begging? What do you want doll? Cause I’m not going to stop til you’re filled with my cum. Is that what you want?”

You nodded “yes! Please please please let me cum! Cum in me- i w-want your cum please! Ha! Fuuuucckk” you whined, hand reaching underneath you to play with your clit.

”A-Al…please…breed me please i want it! I want it so bad!”

That had his cock twitch and hammer into you at record speed.

”oooh don’t worry your pretty head. You’ll get your fill”

Angled thrusts had your body jolting against the bed as you cried out, moaning so loud you were sure everyone in the hotel could hear you.

Alastor thought you were beautiful. How lovely you were covered in blood and sweat as he pounded you out. Your body went rigid before he felt your cunt flutter around him, milking him dry.

Your body slumped forward as he continue to ride out your orgasm.

”what a pretty doe, that’s a good girl. Milking my cock like a wanton slut. That’s it. I’m going to fill you up so good, I’m going to carve your cunt to only take my cock. You’ll like that wont you sweetheart? F-Fuck take it baby take it!” He grunted, snapping his hips into yours before he let out a loud growl, cock twitching before spilling his cum into you, painting your gooey walls white.

You let out a low whine feeling his warm goo fill you, before he pulled out, finally letting your body go.

You convulsed on the bed, panting as you felt his sticky spunk start to leak out of you.

Alastor sighed, rubbing your thighs as you came down from your high.

He chuckled “yes I think you’ll do just fine darlin”

Maybe heat cycles weren’t so bad after all…especially when there was a Doe ready to be filled with cum.

”Lovely”

[kindacreepy-kindaugly]

Rly wish I wasn't so fucking triggered by most of the content Silk looks at lmao

[yashirix]

•ESCAPISM: Yandere Satoru Gojo x Fem Reader

Synopsis: Filled with curses and betrayal, Satoru Gojo realizes he is far from sane. Linking his six eyes on a young sorcerer who captivated him, the ‘chosen’ one makes foolish decisions. She's petrified.

Slow burn?

Warnings: Age Gap, Power imbalance, Satoru Gojo is his own warning, Manipulation, Top Satoru, Gore, Delusional sorcerer, Explicit content?, Comedy, Bad humor, Reader is a little too strong, we love a badass female character. Characters might be written a little ooc.

Part 1/Introduction of Escapism.

_____________________________________

Satoru Gojo was far from sane; the sorcerer knew so himself. It felt rather isolated due to the absence of his best friend. His one and only at that.

A fragment of his facade vanished when Geto tagged along, for Gojo found solace in being able to express himself and his weird interests to someone who wasn't as strong as him. Yet, Geto always acknowledged him as human. Their friendship of Yin and Yang once so unbreakable, was no more. It's no longer present; it doesn't exist because his best friend's deceased. It crushed him into a state of despair.

No longer would it be the same anymore. There was no one in the world that could ever replace their friendship and experiences altogether. Especially since there was no one around to help him stay mentally sane. After all, the world of Jujutsu is both a lie and a curse, it sucks the living daylight out of your soul, like a repulsive leech waiting for its next course of meal. It leaves once it's satisfied from hunger- and filled with vital fluid. When will the strongest ever feel protected?

Silly question! Satoru Gojo should know better than to have hope in a world full of fucking misery.

—————————————————————————

Becoming a teacher was no different. He was now 20- as handsome as 'ever'  stated by his fangirls who came up to him during the days he went out to buy kikufuku in his casual attire. It felt suffocating at times when being complimented for your appearance only- yet it only built his ego farther than a normal being. He wasn't really necessarily human after all. If anything, it felt eccentric.

The sorcerer never had a girlfriend even after putting thought into it. He was also still a virgin. Of course, he did look at sexual magazines once in a while, but it felt sickening to touch someone who could never understand him as his best friend did. He wanted to feel genuine love in a way- it was pitiful. The least he could was get complimented by women who easily latched themselves onto him.

However, Gojo was insecure. He felt unloved and unworthy of finding someone compatible for him. Maybe he should try one night stands? maybe that'll knock some sense into him. Was sex good? ew probably not. He mentally grabbed those thoughts and walked towards the trash can where he flung them. The sorcerer needed to get a hold of himself.

He'll stay a virgin as long as it takes.

__________________________________

Or NOT. Satoru Gojo finally caved into his intrusive thoughts at the age of 21 and did one night stands like it was some sort of hobby. The females were and felt like nothing to him, but the sensation of release felt like euphoria for at least a couple of seconds. He could go for various rounds- but his fuck buddies would pass out not so long after the second round. He needed a far better release. Of course, he'd lie about feeling satisfied afterwards and let them stay at the hotel for a couple of days payed straight out from his pocket- as he strolled back to Jujutsu High.

The second way of Gojo's reliefs was to cry himself to sleep. His tears felt pathetic- for there was no one in the world who would take their time to cradle him and ask if he was doing alright. He was tired of living like some sort of puppet- entity whose position was to only rid the world of curses every damn hour and moment of his existence. Killing the higher ups might've miraculously appeared on the bucket list.

—————————————————————————

YOU paved your way around the supermarket and the cashier aisle. It felt euphoric being able to stroll around the area; grasping both vegetables and items that would relish in your cooking skills of perfect seasoning. Well, not really... in reality the food you made was edible but somehow you ended up burning eggs in a matter of seconds no matter how much you watched YouTube tutorials. Cooking was a hobby- yet you managed to either add a lot of salt or so little.

One time, you cried out of frustration and threw  a tomato across the wall, but it bounced back and somehow managed to knock you down with a thud. You loathed tomatoes after that. It wasn't your fault- it was the intimate objects for being... well intimate!

You were stupid sometimes. Being 16 was not a pain in the bootiehole, because you wanted to stay young for as long as it takes. Having to pay taxes sucked and you wanted no part of it. Instead, you found solace in being able to enjoy yourself with some free time by killing curses. Yes, you still had your parents, but they were on a brink of divorce. Your mother lost love for your father after he cheated 8 years ago and finally broke down once she couldn't bear it anymore. She wanted nothing to do with your father even after he remade himself for the better. You loved him for that.

Nevertheless, it hurt. It hurt seeing them like this because there was nothing your meekly hands were able to do. You couldn't cook a divorce- well obviously not! that was impossible. Consequently, you spent some afternoons looking for curses and exterminated them with a slap to the face. It felt sort of peculiar being able to only see them yourself, but you were convinced your mother could see them as well. There were times where you saw her bat an eye directly to a curse, for she raised her finger and with perfect aim and-

BAM

The curse would instantly disintegrate into ashes. You admired her from afar, and wanted to shout at just how wonderful she is, but you couldn't. You were hiding under the dining table at the time. Well, at least you had evidence that she's also powerful!  talk about beauty and strength.

The way you exterminated curses was concerning. You felt pitiful for having to slap them, but throwing a punch would be more harsh, so out of respect, you slapped them and placed a flower where they once stood. However, one curse was quite literally more vicious than the other and attacked you from behind, but you placed force on your leg muscles and flew upwards doing a backflip and gently kicked the curse onto the busy road. It was enough to kill them, for you were glad you somehow had a special case of "pinkie" senses. However, you still felt guilty. There were also times where you started flying midair and felt a sense of 'divine' energy flowing through you. It was natural, only until you tried flying like Superman doing the pose but instantly fell face flat to pavement. Ouch.

So many unwanted circumstances led to a higher curiosity of wanting to understand just what was going on with you and your family. Keeping it a secret is simple, but one of these days you'll unexpectedly start floating midair when eating- in a perspective that would make you look like you got possessed by Annabelle. 'Hilarious' you'd think.

Sometimes you'd wish curses would look like a  handsome demigod sent from the Greek heathens above. Sculpted magnificently scrumptious where you'd go on your knees and beg for mercy. When in reality, you'd ask to touch their waffle chiseled abs and then open your arms where you'd find peace in being mutilated by a hot male. You needed serious help, but it's not your fault- it's the hormones! anyone would be fathomed and down horrendous below the trenches.

You made friends throughout the years, especially after accidentally bumping against a male by the name of Yuji Itadori. He was very handsome, for you speculated for him to be around your age. It was the start of your friendship with one another. He was just as sweet as the taste of Ferrero Rocher, as you exchanged phone numbers with one another. It has been only a week after meeting- as you hopelessly developed a crush on him rather quickly. The way he messaged you concerned on what you've delt with throughout the years- and the way he gave you a hug when hanging out brought a sense of appreciation and admiration for the salmon haired boy.

He was someone you could quickly confide in and have a picnic with. It felt safe when he held you close, for he too felt rather close to you. You hoped you stayed friends and grew old together- and just maybe you'd be able to open up to him and explain how you can easily exterminate things you'd call "curses." Surely enough, you were convinced that the start of your friendship would end in marriage- where you'd own 3 hamsters, 6 dogs, 4 cats, and a turtle named Jeffrey. Itadori agreed on the animals but not marriage- because you wouldn't tell him. Not yet! you guys just met and your 16, you both were too young.

You hope nothing would get in the way of your friendship. Yuji was a sweet boy, and he secretly adorned you as well.

————————————————————————-

A/N: Whew. That took a little long to write, but it was enjoyable! I hope the first chapter is to at least one persons liking. I wrote this on my feels as my grammar isn't good since I don't really proofread. It's my first time publishing a story LMAO. I apologize, the reader is a little stupid because I based her off myself at some moments. But she has her cool moments don't worry. The first chapter is just an introduction, so there will be dialogue. If there is confusion Gojo is 21 and Y/N is 16. This is purely fiction so Gojo is a delusional creep as the story progresses. That dude has some attachment issues even I’m scared.

[dorianbrightmusic]

PSA

-OCD is not a synonym for neat or preoccupied with tidiness. Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder is all about distressing intrusive thoughts and rituals (compulsions) used to combat those thoughts.

-Intrusive thoughts are not synonymous with silly things I want to do. They're deeply upsetting, often taboo mental apparitions. Letting them win is the last thing anyone wants, and nobody is immoral for having them. (See 'impulsive thoughts' if you need a term.)

-Anorexic is not a synonym for thin or emaciated. The majority of anorexic people have OSFED atypical anorexia – that is, their BMI is above 18.5. You cannot judge the severity of someone's illness by their appearance. (If you're worried about someone, look out more for rapid weight loss than thinness, even when it's occurring in someone in a larger body. 10kg in 10 weeks is never a good thing.)

-Eating disorders are not synonymous with just anorexia and bulimia. Anorexia is an ED, but it's nowhere near the most common. Bulimia is an ED, but again, not the most common. Together, they do not constitute the most common. The most common ED is binge-eating disorder, and the second most common is atypical anorexia, which is one of many, many OSFED categories. Those living with ARFID, pica, night-eating syndrome, rumination disorder, subthreshold BN, subthreshold BED, and orthorexia all deserve dignity, compassion, and acknowledgement. Remember: EDs are not necessarily thin, and never glamorous.

-Schizophrenic is not a synonym of all over the place, abnormal, unpredictable, dangerous, or crazy. Nor is schizoid or schizotypal. Folks with schizophrenia spectrum disorders live with hallucinations, delusions, disorganised thoughts/behaviour, and/or catatonia. They are far more likely to be victims of violence than perpetrators, and go to huge lengths to act okay even when distressed by symptoms.

-Schizophrenic is also not a synonym of multiple personalities/volatile. For the disorder involving having different facets of personality that are generally unaware of each other, see Dissociative Identity Disorder, and even then, don't assume it's a) dramatic as it is in the movies; b) evil; or c) trivial. DID is a trauma disorder.

-Delusional is not a synonym of wrong. Nor is it the same as this politician/friend is saying something I do not like/that is potentially dangerous. Delusions are false, fixed beliefs held despite evidence. And generally, folks with delusions don't tend to proselytise them. I know that certain politicians have beliefs that seem to persist in the face of evidence, but nevertheless, we don't need to stigmatise mental illness further to call out poor political/social behaviour. If you need a word for the pundit spewing potentially dangerous content, use 'dangerous' or 'wrong', but don't call them delusional.

-Bipolar is not a synonym of all over the place or fluctuating results. Bipolar disorder involves mood states that, even in the rapid cycling form, tend to last at least 3-4 days (mania) and weeks (depression). If you need a word for the weather, use 'British' instead.

-Psychotic is not a synonym of evil. Psychosis is losing touch with reality, whether it be through hallucinations or delusions. It doesn't make a person bad or violent. It's just a neurological phenomenon that may be distressing. It's also relatively common: 6-15% of people will hallucinate in their lifetime.

-ADHD is not a synonym of just quirky/scattered/forgetful/unfocussed/lazy/careless. ADHD is fundamentally a disorder of being able to choose where to direct attention, rather than of just I can't focus. If someone can't tune out the noise of the crowd, but can't prevent themself focussing on something trivial because their brain is wired that way, it's not laziness or just being quirky/scattered.

-Autistic meltdown is not a synonym of temper tantrum.

-Borderline is not a synonym of harridan.

-Narcissist is not a synonym of abuser.

-Mentally ill is not a synonym of volatile or bad person. This doesn't mean we have to make something artificially positive out of mental disorders. If there is good to be found in certain disorders, great; if there is nothing positive about living with certain others, that doesn't make you any less real or resilient than anyone else. It's okay to have complex feelings about your own disorders. It's okay to feel exhausted or frustrated by a disorder. But never should anyone have to face stigma.

[toxicanonymity]

the narrative.

4.7k, darkish!Javi Gutierrez x f!reader

"Control the narrative. You probably say that when you cum." - Roman Roy, Succession, s1 e1. PREMISE: Javi is in the middle of a publicity disaster due to his illegal activities and big mouth. Enter you (and he will). Penthouse vibe and attire inspired by Justified City Primeval. WARNINGS: I8+ ONE SHOT, dark(ish?) Javi, canon-typical lack of realism, drug references, gratuitous bulge, alcohol, praise, mention of someone sucking Javi's dick in the past, unprofessional behavior, power dynamics, pressure, DUBCON unsafe p in v (etc.), mild gun play, romance. A/N: Dedicated to @noxturnalpascal 🖤 Never thought I'd start the year with this guy, but thots happened. I only have one other Javi G. fic.

When you show up to Javi's home in the Hollywood hills, you're mildly surprised the car is stopping. It looks like any other skyrise. It's not his main residence, but he has the whole top floor to himself. You’ve refreshed yourself on the task during the ride – Javi Gutierrez is a PR nightmare lately, and he needs to be reminded how to handle press, especially questions about his recent run-ins with the law and ties to his family business. You'll run through a few practice questions with him, refresh him on the way to his event, and say goodbye. It should be simple. 

On your way into Javi’s building, the concierge greets you, then makes polite conversation as he escorts you to the penthouse. 

"Mr. Gutierrez already has company," he mentions as he uses a key card then holds the door open for you. 

You step into Javi’s apartment and the door closes behind you. It feels intrusive, just showing up in his personal space without someone to introduce you.  It's quiet for a moment, and you take in the opulence -- the sky high ceilings, the glittery floor sparkling under your modest wedge heels. You adjust your little black dress and fix your hair, then stand and wait with your bag.

You take a deep, calming breath. At least this isn’t a celebrity you have a crush on. He isn’t necessarily your type. He seems like such a teddy bear. He’ll be cool. He’s down to earth, you tell yourself, but can’t think of any evidence to support that claim. What kind of company does he have, you wonder. Is it a woman?

"One more, one more," Javi begs out of view, and your breath hitches at his voice. It's not the pitch or measured cadence you hear in the movies or even interviews. It's deep, gruff, and unpolished. "One more, Nick." 

Your heart jumps at the name. 

Nick sighs. "Alright, what are we drinking to?"

"Balas y drogas," Javi booms. (Bullets and drugs). "Brindemos" (cheers). 

"As always," Nick monotones, and you hear their glasses clink. A few seconds later, boots begin to click and echo, and they're coming in your direction. 

Entranced by the sparkle of the floor, you see a pair of snakeskin boots cross in front of you first. The boots pause, and your gaze pans up over his unexpectedly bare legs, which are muscular and only slightly hairy. Your eyes continue up over the swell of his thighs, and then–by the time you see it, it’s too late not to look right at it--a generous bulge under a blue striped swimsuit. You yank your eyes upward so fast, you almost don't see the gold pistol he’s holding at his side. Javi raises an empty highball glass, gestures it toward you, and you're studying the rings his hand when he complains, "You are early." He taps a ring on the glass and looks around behind you. “They sent you alone?”

“Yes, Mr. Gutierrez.” You introduce yourself. When you speak, he holds surprisingly warm eye contact, given his opening line. It feels like he’s really seeing you, maybe even connecting with you. 

“Please, call me Javi.” He walks around the counter and makes no effort to close his silk robe, trailing behind him.  "Make yourself a drink," he nods toward a wet bar behind him as he puts his glass in the sink. His curls are a mess, but he doesn't look bad. His strong chest glistens under his gold chain.  "Make Nick something, too. NICK--" 

"I'm right here, Javi. I really have to go." Nick greets you with an unenthused nod, "Hi,” then his phone rings and he quickly bids farewell to Javi: "I'll see ya later bud." Nick slowly staggers toward the door as he answers the phone. 

-

As the door closes behind Nick, Javi watches your face. "He has a key, you know. He'll be back," then he again urges you toward the wet bar, slightly more politely this time.  "Please, help yourself.  Why did they send you so early?"

"I'm an hour late," you tell him. His security team stalled you because he wasn’t ready.

He looks at his gold watch. "Mierda" (Shit). He meets your gaze again with apologetic eyes. "An hour late. . . maybe I do like you. . ."  The third time he refers you to the bar, you go around the counter and at least browse his liquor selection. 

A few minutes later, you're mindlessly reading the liquor bottles when you see a reflection in a bottle of mezcal. Something moves behind you.

"Tequila," Javi murmurs a few inches from your ear. “If you cannot decide.” You stiffen but manage not to jump, or so you think. "Relax, mamacita.” A large, warm hand comes to your bare shoulder, making your chest get hot. Javi’s lips brush the shell of your ear. “Relax,” he repeats. “It is only Javi.” He smells faintly of pipe or hookah smoke.

He lingers for a moment, smells your hair, then his hand trails down your bicep, and butterflies rush through your body so fast you have to step away.  He looks only slightly bemused. He checks you out even more obviously this time, then silently walks backwards through the kitchen, and you forget not to stare. You follow the way the light highlights his little belly. His happy trail leads you right to the slight swing and jiggle of the massive lump precariously contained by that swimsuit. How much of it is balls, you wonder. And at that moment, he reaches down to adjust himself before turning around and heading to his bedroom. 

Your face is on fire, and you’re tingling down South. You pour yourself a drink. You need one. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer quite a view of the city. It feels like Javi is taking a long time. In the distance, he begins to sing. You didn’t expect to be attracted to him, but now you have this feeling in your chest, like you’re waiting for a date with someone you like. Someone you’re still getting to know. You try to brush it off and not read too much into the look in his eyes. He’s an actor. He probably knows how to make people feel special, you remind yourself, but you can’t help but feel a little giddy as you wait. 

You take a seat on his velvet sectional. You sip your drink and begin to feel more confident. When you go to put your drink down on the nearest coffee table, there isn't much space amid the array of empty bottles and glasses, and a hookah. You set your drink on a silver tray, and only then do you realize you've disrupted the geometric residue of tiny white lines. “Shit,” you whisper. 

While Javi gets ready, you read some of his past quotes to the press. It messes with your head. Sure, he was rude to you at first, but then so warm. There’s one particular quote you’re stuck on. It isn’t too hard to imagine him saying something like this. You catch yourself feeling sad about it, not because it was so rude of him, but because of the insinuation of him with another woman.  In your mind, you know this feeling is irrational after having only interacted with Javi for only a moment. You have to compose yourself into professional mode again. 

—-

Javi returns freshly showered, wearing slacks and a patterned, long-sleeve, button-up shirt that hugs his biceps. He checks you out as he fastens his last cuff link. Then he sucks in his stomach and tucks in his shirt by shoving his hands all the way into his pants. He keeps eye contact with you as he tucks in the front, and finishes it off with a subtle cup of his balls. Then he stands normally again, and the curve of his little belly presses against the shirt above his pants. He doesn't put on a belt. He gestures for you to walk in front of him. 

Javi stays close on the way downstairs. On the elevator, you can feel his breath on your cheek. When the doors open, his hand on your back ushers you out. The soft padding of his stomach grazes your arm.

—-

Back outside Javi’s apartment, the car you arrived in – the one that picked you up at the Dobis PR office – is gone. You’ll ride in Javi’s car. His security team wants to accompany the two of you in the vehicle, and it’s clear they normally ride with Javi. But Javi convinces them to follow in another car this time. Just this once. You get into a black Mercedes sprinter outfitted with a raised roof, big leather bench seat, and a bar. 

As you settle into the van, Javi is making sure you’re comfortable, making small talk, and you just want to chat with him, but you do have a job to do. He’s sitting in the corner of the bench in the very back of the van, and you’re next to him, with your body mostly facing him. You begin to broach the topic at hand, distracted by his closeness and the aftershave molecules wafting into your nostrils. “Okay Javi, so, I’m familiar with your, uh, difficulties with law enforcement recently, and my role here is to kinda help you help yourself with that in the press.”  

He nods. 

“So let’s start where we are. Do you remember what you said when Page Six asked for a comment?”

He briefly leans in the opposite direction from you to open the minifridge. He pulls out a bottle of champagne. “Page Six, remind me which one is that.”

Is he going to make you say it? Fine. “You don't remember telling the writer her lips were made to suck your dick?” 

“That was out of context,” he mutters. You search his face for whether it‘s a joke, but he’s not laughing, and he’s not meeting your eyes.  

You ask, “Is there a context where that’s a good comment to make?” And you hope it lands softer than it sounds to your own ears. 

“Yes,” Javi nods and brushes a curl out of his forehead. He shifts in the seat and wrings his hand around the neck of the champagne bottle in his lap. “With a cock in her mouth.” Hearing the word cock in his voice gives you a zing of arousal. 

You’re at a loss for words. “Are you saying you weren't answering a question when you said that?”

“The conversation was over,” Javi nods. 

“--And she had your–”

“My cock, yes,” he confirms. “In her mouth.” He reads your face, then shrugs. “She wanted a taste of Javi, and I am afraid I could not resist.” Your mind is going places - How did that happen, you wonder. Did she just drop to her knees? Does it happen all the time? Could you have a taste of Javi? Do you want one? No, you don’t want to be just another girl.

You and Javi look at each other for a moment, neither of you completely focused, then you say the only thing you can think to say, “Fair enough,” as you close your folio. Then you can’t help but add, “Optimally, it's not the best idea to sleep with. . . certain people . . .who can make you look bad.” The thought falls apart as you watch his face, and you wonder if you're overstepping. 

“It was only a mouth,” Javi clarifies, then lowers his voice. “I would never make the love to her.” 

Now his eyes are fixed on your lips. His mind is going places. You watch him salivate over the shape of your mouth and don’t dare to interrupt his filthy train of thought. But that bulge in his swim trunks is seared in your mind. The subtle way it moved with each step. You have to stare at anything else to keep your eyes off his pants. You look at the bits of silver in his beard and the sparkle in his eyes

“Hm?” he asks and you snap out of your trance. 

“We need to control the narrative,” you mumble, as if you're thinking about work. 

“I don’t have a narrative, I have the truth. And the truth is too dangerous, mami.” He extends an arm behind you. 

The intrigue shakes you from your dirty thoughts. You shouldn’t pry, so you try not to, but having heard his explanation for the Page Six comment, you’re wondering if there really is a good explanation for how he got caught riding dirty with both narcotics and unregistered weapons.

He scoots closer, so he’s mostly on your bench rather than in the corner, and he extends an arm behind you. “I have to say, you are a smart girl.” He brushes your shoulder with his thumb. “Very pretty, too,” he adds quietly. “And very smart not to ask.”

“Thanks,” you mumble. What else can you say?

He looks you over, and his face hardens in an instant. “You should fire them,” he says. “They put a pretty girl like you in a van with me.” He scoffs. “They don’t respect you, I’m sorry to say.” 

What is that supposed to mean? You stare at him blankly, then say, “I can’t fire them, I work for them.”

“Well then you should fire your job. Quit it, the job.” You suppose he’s that out of touch. He probably doesn’t even know how much rent is in LA. Increasingly incredulous, he asks, “They sent you here alone?” 

Your mouth feels dry. You nod and try to swallow. 

His face softens. “No, please do not be scared,” he tries to recover, cupping your shoulder warmly with his palm. “But they should care more about you. You are precious.” 

“Well. . . Thanks, I think I’ll be okay,” you stammer.

Javi chuckles and locks all the doors to the van. Your upper body quickly goes cold as he settles in again next to you, his knee touching yours. How did he even do that?

He smiles darkly. “You felt that, right? In your spine?” His thumb brushes the nape of your neck, then the top of your spine.

You nod, otherwise paralyzed. 

“Fire them,” he repeats in a whisper.

You stand up just an inch to smooth your dress, and before you can sit back down, the van lurches out of nowhere.  You’re propelled face-first into Javi’s arms. The unopened bottle of champagne rolls away. Your faces are only a few inches apart. His shirt is soft, his body is warm, and you’re breathing his minty breath. The van lurches again and he hugs you into him, protectively. 

“I apologize, sir,” the driver announces through a speaker. 

You slowly begin to sit up from him. His arms are slow to release you. As you sit up, he lays a hand on your thigh. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“I should warn you,” he murmurs. “Traffic is very bad here.” 

—--

You sit there with Javi’s arm behind you and his other hand on your thigh, and neither of you speaks. He’s practically enveloping you with his whole body.

“You are thinking about it, right?”  

The pitch of his voice and a nod toward your skirt tells you what he’s talking about, and you don’t answer.  He takes his hand off your thigh only to adjust himself, and your face heats up. 

He sighs. “So, if you are the press, what should I say right now?”

After a loaded beat of silence, you snap out of it and begin to ramble, “Well, I haven't asked you a question, so you don't have to say anything, in fact, unless they ask–”

He reaches for your face. He rests four fingers on the side of your face, then brushes his thumb over your lips. “Shh. I won't say it,” he whispers. “That this press is the most beautiful girl. . .” Your lips part and let his thumb into your mouth, but your tongue pulls back.

“That I need her. . .in a way I cannot explain.” You gasp and look down. He takes his thumb  out of your mouth, then his hand drifts to his pants. “That I want to twist her legs around me like a pretzel.” The glint of his rings catches your eye, slowly moving atop his pants. His eyelids are heavy. “I should not say it, right?” 

You look at his mouth then meet his eyes again and shake your head no, ever so slightly. 

“But I can think it,” he whispers with a nod. “I can feel it,” he nods with a raise of his eyebrows. “Dios mio. . . I can have it.” 

He hugs you, slides a hand under your opposite thigh, and swiftly pulls you into straddling him with your knees on the seat and your skirt hanging loosely in his lap. You aren’t wearing stockings, but you’re wearing modest boy shorts. His hips lift up to meet you as he pulls you down with a sigh. His warm package feels even bigger than it looked. He closes his eyes and runs his hands over your back as your loins throb against each other. 

He holds your body firmly in place for a few gentle little thrusts that make you gush with each push of his bulge. Then, satisfied that you're not going anywhere, he pulls your face in for a long, steamy kiss, with his rings pressed against your cheek. As he feeds you his tongue, his hips keep moving, slowly pressing himself against you.

He pulls his face away and asks, “Do we have to go to this thing?” 

“No,” you say, pleased at this turn of events. He cups your head, and you explain, “Not at all. We wanted you to lay low. But you insisted-”

“I want to lay low with you,” he murmurs against your cheek. “Let me lay with you.”  Your insides are throbbing and swelling. His lips and the slightest hint of his teeth drag down your neck while his thick manhood hardens more against the crotch of your boy shorts. “I'll give you more than a taste, Mamacita. We're going to lay together.”  

He asks the driver to take you back to his place. Then he latches onto your neck, and you let out a little moan.  The van turns around to head back to his place. 

“I just need to text the team,” you tell him and get off his lap. You straighten your dress and begin to text your manager.  While you're on your phone, he keeps kissing and nibbling at you. 

Your manager calls, and you clear your throat. Javi occupies himself by popping open the bottle of champagne. You receive accolades for talking him out of the event. 

—--

When you're off the phone, Javi has somewhat composed himself. “Now we have all night.” He hands you a flute of champagne. A voice comes over the intercom saying there's a security matter Mr. Gutierrez needs to be briefed on. The van pulls over and Rafael, Javi’s head of security, joins you. 

“Your brother is back,” Rafael tells him. “And he's not happy about what you took.”

“Puta Madre,” Javi grumbles. “You know what he would have done with it.” 

“I know,” Rafi nods. 

“I have plans tonight, Rafi.” Javi looks at you adoringly. “The most important plans of my life.” He turns back to Rafi.  “Do you see this beautiful woman? We have plans.” 

“You have to stay with me,” Javi tells you. “I’ll keep you safe.” 

When you arrive back at Javi’s place, Rafi insists on escorting the two of you up to the penthouse. The place has already been cleaned up, and a maid is on her way out. 

“Thank you, Sandy,” Javi says as she passes by. She nods. 

——-

You excuse yourself to freshen up while Javi rants to Rafael. There's a crashing noise and you take your time coming back from the restroom, unsure what awaits. 

You come back to the main room and put your bag on a stool at the counter. Rafael is on his way out to stand guard by the door. Javi is sitting on the sofa with his pants off and his shirt unbuttoned, holding his gold pistol against his thigh. 

“I asked Rafi to give us some privacy,” Javi says. “We will not let this ruin our night.” He looks at you hungrily. “Come. Sit.” He makes space in his lap and looks down at himself. He’s wearing black boxer briefs.

You straddle him but don't sit yet. His free hand slides up the back of your thigh and he grabs a handful of ass. “You are the most beautiful woman,” he sighs. “And you feel so good in my hands.”

With his other hand, Javi nudges the golden gun under your skirt, and the metal on your bare thigh makes you flinch. “Shhh.”  He slowly slides the barrel along your inner thigh where the hem of your underwear is. He slides it lightly back and forth, breathing deeply through his nose. Then, his lips part as he rubs it along the damp crotch of your boy shorts. Your whole body erupts in goosebumps. He watches your face as he rubs you with the barrel of his pistol. He angles it upward each time he reaches your front. 

He palms your ass at the same rhythm as he massages you with the gun, as if encouraging you to ride it. Then he holds it still between his legs, pulls you closer against it, and your hips move on their own, seeking more pressure against the barrel. You twitch and gasp and he sucks in a deep breath through his nose. He moves you on the gun and you grind against the barrel until you’re almost at the edge and your thighs are trembling. 

“Good girl,” he sighs. He brings the side of the barrel to his nose and sniffs. Then he makes eye contact with you as he presses his lips to the side of the barrel and dips his tongue onto the metal.  He kisses the gun goodbye, then puts it aside. “I will keep you safe,” he reassures you again. 

Javi takes your hand in his and puts it on the hard bulge and you almost come. He’s so big, and so hard, the seams of his boxer briefs must be ready to burst. He uses your hand to massage himself. At the same time, he grabs the back of your head and pulls you into him for a passionate kiss. Your palm begins to massage his shaft. Feeling the hard shape of him, you can tell how thick he is, and it's more than a handful. Your fingers cradle his balls as you massage the lower part of his shaft. He pulls his underwear down and your skin meets his bare cock.

Both his palms engulf your ass cheeks and he lifts your dress all the way up over your ass so he can see your hips before desperately pulling you fully onto him. He smacks your ass, then kneads it again and licks into your mouth as he grinds up against you. 

He gropes your breasts and pulls your dress all the way up, taking it over your head. His hands find your bra clasp, and he frees your breasts, taking one to his mouth right away. He reaches into your smooth, stretchy boy shorts and gasps at the feeling of your bare, dripping cunt. He holds his cock in his hand and brings the tip to the bottom seam of your underwear. He wedges his cock into the garment, resting against your inner thigh, then a little further, and the bare skin of his tip nudging between your slippery folds makes you weak in the knees. He puts his cock all the way into your underwear from the bottom, wet from your slick, and pulls you tight against him. You grind together and his shaft massages your clit. The pressure builds and quickly boils over, and you moan as you begin to pulse against him. 

“Oh, my love,” Javi sighs, then moans as you grind and come against his cock in your panties. “Such a pretty sight and sound.”

With pleasure still washing over you, he wraps an arm tight around you, turns and lays you down on your back as your orgasm wanes. 

His cock slides out of your underwear as he makes space to finish undressing you both. He tears your underwear down in a frenzy and can't get out of his own soon enough. Within seconds, you're both nude on the sofa in the dimly lit room.

Javi sits on his knees between your legs and pumps himself slowly, belly pushing out, eyes dancing across your body. His cock is so stiff and thick, you can't take your eyes off it. You throb and ache for it. He runs his flattened fingers through your dripping seam and moans at your wetness. 

“I cannot wait another moment to feel you, my love.” 

Javi gets on top of you, his belly pressing into you as he positions himself then notches at your entrance. His gold chain hangs and grazes your chest. He hikes your leg up and you wrap it around him. 

“Good,” he whispers.

Javi shoves into you, punching the air out of your lungs with a brief burn at the stretch. He groans as he fills you with his flesh as fast as your body will allow. “Javi,” you gasp as his girth spreads you apart. His dick twitches at the sound of his name on your lips. He sighs your name and you're almost flattered he knows it, giving you a brief twinge of uncertainty that's quickly replaced by pleasure as he withdraws a few inches then slams into you. 

“You are so beautiful,” he pants as he begins to fuck you steadily. He kisses your chest and your neck. “It was fate that you came here to me.” 

He moans and grunts as he buries his cock in you. You wrap your other leg around him. His body is solid and soft against yours.  So much skin on skin and it all feels right. You feel safe, and you feel adored. The way he looks at you, the way he feels you, moves on you, it’s like he’s been waiting for you forever. He hooks a hand under your shoulder for more leverage, and the force of each punch of his hips jiggles your breasts. He slows down and fucks you more tenderly, but still with power. The movement of his hips is fluid and smooth. 

After a few minutes, he moans, “Ohh, my love,” then sighs your name. “I have to give you my cum, I have to give it to you.” You aren’t sure, but you can’t bring yourself to say anything to disrupt this moment. You’ve never had someone make love to you this way. “I’m going to explode,” he warns.

He buries his mouth in the crook of your neck, bottoms out, and groans as he erupts deep in your core, sending you for another climax of your own. Then his lips scramble up your neck and jaw to find your lips and he kisses you passionately as warm bursts of his cum fill you up. “Mmm,” he moans into your mouth as you clench around his cock. 

When you’re both finished coming, he stays inside for a moment. “We will be joined again,” he assures you as he pulls out.

He lays half on his side, with a bit of his weight on you for a moment. He strokes your face and admires you tenderly. You excuse yourself to the restroom, and he goes with you, escorting you to his master bath instead of the guest room you used earlier. He shows you his bedroom on the other side and says, “you will stay here with me.” 

-

When you come out of the restroom to Javi’s bed, you approach hesitantly. “Are you sure?” you ask. 

“I would not dream of letting you leave,” he assures you. 

[juiles]

Why me?

Summary: y/n is Wanda and Natasha’s partner. After a misunderstanding and 3 months of pain, they finally break through.

Tags: angst and then fluff

Warnings: self harm, pain, fighting, kinda angsty Nat, insecure reader, intrusive thoughts, yelling.

A/N: here’s an angsty wandanat x reader fic that i’ve wanted to read for a while but can’t seem to find any with this plot so if you know of one let me know.

Masterlist here!

————————————————————————

Y/N pov

When i walked into the kitchen, I wasn’t expecting to see Natasha and Wanda wrapped up in each others arms, even though i should have, but i definitely was not expecting to hear Wanda utter the words that shattered my heart.

“You, and you alone, are my entire world and I couldn’t ask for a better girlfriend…” She had muttered into Natasha’s neck, neither of them noticing me in the room giving me the chance to walk out in silence.

I should have expected that, the last few months they have slowly started separating themselves from me. Busying themselves in their work so much I never saw them anymore, anytime they weren’t busy, they seemed to find a way to ignore me and when they were around me they weren’t necessarily nice.

This interaction had given me that last needed push to finally give up. I pulled all my clothes into a bag and went back into my old room down the hall, haphazardly throwing the bag in the corner of my room. I felt a sob build up in my throat and with a quick lock of my door and telling Friday to sound proof my room and not let anyone in, i collapsed into a ball in my room and allowed myself to sob for 30 minutes before picking myself up and dusting myself off.

I decided then and there that I would push myself into my work. I wouldn’t let them ruin my life, at least not my life with the avengers.

It had been 3 months since that day, of course Natasha and Wanda hadn’t even noticed i had left or started avoiding them. None of the teams seemed to have noticed anything different about me which just pulled me further into my shell. I had a very simple routine, wake up at 4, train for 2 hours making sure to be in a private room. Grab something for breakfast if i was feeling it, which lately I hadn’t been. Be in the labs by 6:30 to start work. Skip lunch, working the whole day with my headphones on. I managed to avoid ground dinners a lot but sometimes i got sucked in, not like anyone even noticed if I was there or not.

Wanda’s POV

I guess Natasha and I hadn’t noticed how we had been distancing ourselves from y/n but in the last month or so I noticed how different things had been. Maybe we had been too caught up in our work or our lives but somehow y/n had managed to distance themselves from us even more. They had moved out from our shared room and we almost never saw them during the day.

“She’s probably just being petty that we have lives other than her.” Natasha said as we discussed what was going on. “They’re not being adult about this. They should have spoken to us rather than just leave.”

“I don’t think we ever gave them the chance Nat… we’ve been really distant… the day we we’re practicing what to say to them when we proposed… i think they heard us… i don’t think they realized it was about them… and up until then we had been finding ways to avoid them to not make the engagement noticeable.” I said, tears threatening to fall from my eyes. “We really messed up…”

We both looked up when we heard the kitchen door open and to both our surprise we saw y/n standing in the doorway. They had an unreadable look on their face before they quickly turned on their heel and stormed out of the room, towards their own room. My eyes widened and very quickly my body was racing after their own without a thought in my head.

Before I even got the door, it slammed in my face making me screech to a stop staring at the dark brown wood in front of me, tears now falling from my eyes. “Y/n… please open the door.” I all but whimpered before leaning back into Natasha’s arms who had followed behind me. “Please… we just want to talk…”

I heard a smash and a scream so loud it almost hurt my ears more than my heart. Another smash happened before Natasha made the decision to kick the door down revealing y/n in a very panicked state throwing items around their room. Glass and paper already scattered around the floor.

“FUCK OFF.” They screamed throwing a vase at my head, i barely dodged it, a small piece that shattered on the wall behind me, lodged into my arm making me gasp in pain. The gasp must have shaken them out of their frenzy as they stopped and slowly turned to face me, eyes drawn to the small amount of blood trickling down my arm. “Wanda… oh god… oh my god i am so sorry! I’m sorry! I’m so sorry!” Their head snapped up to look at me before they backed away, arms being held up defensively. “I’m sorry… please don’t hate me… please…” They pleaded staring at my eyes, a look of pure fear in their eyes.

“Detka… I would never-“

“DON’T. DON’T SAY THAT. ITS A LIE! YOU DID!” They screamed at me before going back to the fear and they cowered again when Natasha took a slow step forward, tears falling down her face.

“We never meant to hurt you… we swear… we love you more than anything… please… let us help you…” She finally made it to y/n’s trembling body and managed to pull them into her arms. “We want to help you…”

I kneeled in front of y/n’s sobbing form and held their hands as they sobbed and screamed into Natasha’s chest.

After what felt like hours, their sobs and screams disappeared into soft sniffles, their face still buried deep into her neck. That’s when I finally took a good look at them. They were shaking, their body looking very frail and skinny, as they pulled their face out of Nats neck, and I noticed the dark circles under the eyes, how pale they were, how lost their eyes are. “Oh detka…” I murmured cupping their face. All they did was stare at me. “I am SO sorry that we ever made you feel like we don’t love you… we love you so much it hurts. It hurts to know that we hurt you. It breaks our hearts because not once did we even step back to notice we were hurting you, that we were so engrossed in our plans that we failed to notice what we were doing to you.”

Their face contorted u to pain when i softly grabbed their wrist making me pull back their sleeve before they got the chance, my heart falling even further into my stomach. There on their wrist were bloody cuts scattered around. “Please let me clean these… baby they look infected. Even if you don’t want us around, i want to make sure you stay safe.” They glanced down at their own wrist before looking at Natasha before looking back at me and they nodded. I shot up and ran into the bathroom before coming back with the first aid kit.

“It will sting but you grip my arm as tightly as humanly possible, it will help.” Natasha murmured into their ear, they nodded staring down at their arm, their good hand gripping onto Nats. I started cleaning the wounds, y/n barely made a sound but I could see the pain in their eyes so i did it as fast as possible, wrapping them up before showering the bandages with kisses. “All better…”

“You… my… I’m sorry…” They muttered squeezing their eyes shut.

“No. No you don’t need to apologize. We do. For the rest of our lives we will be apologizing for ever causing you pain. You are our world y/n. The three of us against the world.” Natasha stopped them quickly holding them tighter. “Detka… you’re too skinny… have… have you not been eating?”

They tended up before I stroked their cheeks gently. “We’re not mad baby… but we need to know… we need to make sure your taken care of so let’s get some food in you baby…” They bit their lip and started shaking their head before Nat cleared her throat and they took a deep sigh before nodding gently.

Nat scooped them up into her arms bridal style and carried them down to the kitchen before placing them on her lap as she sat on a stool. “What do you want to eat detka…?”

It was silent for a moment before a small whisper was heard. “Wanda’s alfredo…?” Was hushed but my I couldn’t fight the smile growing in my face. “Of course baby.”

I instantly started flitting around the kitchen doing what was needed. It was silent for at least 10 minutes before they spoke again.

“I never wanted to upset you guys… before you stop me let me speak. I’m just so used to being used, hurt then dropped as if I’m garbage…” They’re eyes welled up slowly. “I just… i just needed to pull myself away before you could hurt me and I ended up hurting all of us… I’m sorry i didn’t talk to you guys before and assumed the worst…” My heart shattered even more. “I love you guys so much it made me want to go numb so I couldn’t get hurt again…”

“We love you baby… we love you so much and these last 3 months have been torture but it was our own fault.” Natasha said running her calloused hands through y/n’s hair. “We will spend the rest of our lives making it up to you. Now eat so we can go snuggle in bed to sleep my love.”

Y/n stared at the bowl, their bottom lip wobbling. “I’m scared…” They whispered.

“Baby… me and you and Wanda are going to do this together. Understand?” They nodded with a small sniffle. “Now open up so you can eat.” They opened their mouth and slowly we made our way through the bowl.

After they ate, we made our way back upstairs to our bedroom and settled them in between us, pulling their bony body into ours. “Why me?”

“Because you are our world detka and no matter what we say or do nothing will ever be able to make up for what we did to you.”

Y/n sniffled before snuggling back down into us with a small content smile on their faces they fell asleep.

[ladyelissarose]

‘Compromised’

Characters; Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley + Johnny ‘Soap’ McTavish

Warnings; It’s mostly pretty funny and cheesy... buuuut a little suggestive in the end ;) if y’all want a more specified warnings it’s basically two large guys in an awkward position in a sticky situation, letting their intrusive thoughts get to them.

Summary; Who thought getting into a mess of a mission would bring out inner thoughts of 2 of the 141’s most toughest soldiers?

Author’s note; This incredible art and fic idea comes from the amazing @lurrlonde !! Thank you again for being so cool! Go check out this guys art y’all!! It’s the best!!

“YOU’RE A COMPLETE IDIOT SOAP!”

“SAYS YE WHO IS A DAFT MINDED BASTARD!”

BANG BANG BANG!!!

Soap ran closely behind Ghost as he shot back at the incoming enemies, who had found their secret hiding spot after Soap let out a ‘louder than expected’ chuckle at a stupid dad-joke Ghost said. It wasn’t really funny anyways. It was a simple-

‘Why is dark spelled with ‘K’ and not a ‘C’? = because you can’t ‘C’ in the dark.’

That was literally it! But Soap was attention deprived and mentally exhausted, that the sudden boost of humor took him over and gave him the giggles. Now they were running for their lives as their position had been found and the Cartels were chasing their asses down. Ghost looked around for any place to hide in for now until Price brought backup, even if it was in a chemical closet or something similar enough. Soap grew a little worried as he could hear how close they were getting on their tails, he knew how outnumbered they were and unfortunately so it was partially his fault.

“Ghost they getting on us-“

“I know- HERE! Come!”

With a harsh jerk Ghost pulled him into a large back room and pointed at the ceiling with a gruff whisper,

“We need to get up there, climb on my shoulders!”

Without asking questions Soap read Ghost’s mind and immediately stepped onto his broad shoulders once he had crouched down enough. Ghost held onto Soap’s legs tightly and slowly lifted himself to a complete stand, ushering him with words to hurry up.

“Hurry Soap, we only have so long.”

“I know Lt. But this vent is all screwed up tight!”

Soap used his knife to unscrew it, sweat dripping down from his hair and covering his entire being from the stress and slight fear he was feeling. Ghost held on tightly and didn’t budge at all, his strength not faltering for now, he was breathing a little harder, but that was it. Near by they could hear loud slamming of doors being opened, meaning they were checking every room. Ghost bit onto his mask and whispered to Soap with concern in his tone,

“Johnny-“

“Got it!! Ok ok I’m pulling up!”

Soap was pretty tough himself and successfully he was able to climb in immediately, his hand now dropping to Ghost as he spoke confidently,

“C‘mon! I got ya mate- hurry!”

Ghost worried for a moment that Soap might not be able to pull him up, as he was much taller and buffier, but he’d have to trust him as he heard louder shouts.

“There’s 4 more rooms left! Check them out now!”

Eyes wide with desperation Soap choked,

“N-Now Ghost!”

With a deep grunt Ghost jumped and caught Soap’s hand, hearing him gasp at the weight he now held and tried to pull up. Maybe on any other day Soap might have had a little struggle, but the fear was so big, it gave enough adrenaline to pull him all the way up. Ghost was pretty surprised but grateful.

Soap dragged him inside and immediately put back the vent cover, making sure it was in perfect place before settling himself in. Only bad thing was, the place was a little compact for two big guys. Soap was left sitting under Ghost who was standing in a squatting position over him. Soap felt just fine but he snapped into Ghost’s reality when he heard him mumble,

“I’ve got to fuckin’-“

thonk!!!

“Shit!! Don’t move Simon!”

Of course air vents were made weak and super cheap to only sustain air, and not necessarily take two tower-built soldiers. With the little movement Ghost had attempted, the whole thing shook and threatened to bent under his foot. Silence filled the area as they awaited their biggest fear of going down and being caught.

“...”

“...”

BANG!!

Both men had their hearts beating wildly in their throats as they heard the Cartel under them, searching the entire area (well they thought they did;) Through the mask Ghost’s nervous expression couldn’t be read, but he knew he must’ve looked exactly like Soap who had his eyes blown wide and his face completely pale. It only took a few more minutes until they listened to great news,

“This room is clear! Two guards stay at this door. The rest go to the next then check the perimeter!!”

The sound of loud stomps of running men grew less and less until it couldn’t be heard, only sound remaining were the sighs the soldiers let out at being safe and unseen for now. Johnny shifted a bit and let out a breath of relief, as he looked up to Ghost and asked,

“Ye alright LT?”

Ghost’s eyes locked on his as he curtly replied,

“Yes Sergeant.”

Soap knew that voice, and tone. He thought that perhaps Ghost was still very upset at the whole situation, so he chose to apologize,

“M’sorry LT. ‘bout all this.. I’ll make it up to ya.”

Brown eyes met his blue ones as a low voice responded more calmly but with that same intensity in it,

“It’s not your fault Johnny, we both messed up.”

Soap let a brow perk up as he questioned,

“Are ye upset though?”

Through his eyes Soap could see that Ghost was uncomfortable or that something big was wrong, hence making him keep on asking. Ghost rolled his eyes and muttered,

“Why do you keep asking Soap-“

“I can see it in your eyes Simon, you keep squintin’ and shit, huffing loudly and all. Did ya get shot?”

Ghost muttered a simple ‘no’ and looked away from Soap, bitting his tongue at the stinging pain he felt in his thighs, squatting the entire time was beginning to take a toll on him and leave him burning. But he’d rather die than admit it, he was a tough guy. So slightly he tried to move a bit, but with the soreness and burn of it all he let out a deep groan and stopped moving.

“Agh.. fuckin hell-“

“What is it LT?”

Ghost tired to move his legs a bit but they burned so much like if someone was laying a steaming pan on his thighs. Soap looked up at him with his baby blues and asked again with concern,

“Lt? Ya good?”

Simon was dreading to confess the truth behind why he was groaning an shifting uncomfortably, but Johnny was genuinely being very nice, and would probably be understanding too. Concerning the fact that it was his fault they were there in the first place. Simon’s rolled his eyes and finally huffed out,

“My legs are burnin’ Johnny.. in this position. And I can’t sit cause there’s no room... might make a lot of noise too-“

Heat rose up to Simon’s cheeks as he was cut off of words, at the feeling of two hands press up against his bottom, and lift him up slightly. He couldn’t be oblivious or stupid and ask himself,

‘Who the heck has their hands on my ass?’

Because only he and ‘Johnny’ were in the damn air vent. But he nonetheless asked this, as he didn’t know what else to say at the unexpected act,

“Johnny.. what the fock-“

Johnny unapologetically gave a light squeeze as to emphasize what he was doing while responding defensively,

“Lt you said you wanted to sit but couldn’t.. now I’m helpin’ ya. See?”

Another light squeeze*

Breath hitching and sweating out nervousness, Simon could only sigh out,

“A’ight Johnny, just no squeezing.”

“Why?”

Wha- why? Johnny it’s my ass-“

“But I’m helping ya Lt-“

“And that’s it-“

“I get to do whatever I want with this ass as I’m holding it up on my own will Simon-“

“It’s still my ass and I said don’t-“

Squeeze*

“Soap. No.”

“But-“

“I get you’ve been eyeballin’ my arse sense the first day but c’mon.”

Johhny’s bit back a gasp,

“You knew!”

Huffing lightly Ghost stated,

“I’m quiet but not stupid Jonnny.”

A small embarrassed smile took place on Johnny at his words, adding with hesitation,

“oh... is it ok?”

“I’s more than fine Johnny, just not now-“

“But it’s the perfect time!”

“For whot exactly Sergeant?”

Simon knew exactly to the ‘T’ what Johnny was referring to, but he wanted him to say it. Johnny’s cheeks grew a little pink, and his eyes were sparkling like a puppy’s, ever so desperate but shy all at once to say his inner desires. Simon laughed internally at this Scot’s sudden shyness, as he was always so loud and out-spoken. Though he knew he wouldn’t mind a little fun, he couldn’t deny that the Scottish blue-eyed soldier was on his mind half- no more than all the time, Johnny practically lived in his head.

Ghost inched his hand towards Soap’s face and caressed it, feeling peace at his actions when Soap leaned into his touch.

“I know Johnny... but there’s other times for it- like safer.”

With a simple nod Soap agreed. But he couldn’t resist the feeling of Ghost’s ass in his hold, giving him the sudden urge of tease to bring his hands closer to the crotch, all while watching Ghost closely for his reaction- which came fast. And unexpectedly his quickest reflex was to grasp Soap’s Mohawk tightly, earning him a whimper.

‘Jesus Soap you’ll be the death of me.’

“J-Johnny! Please, I will grow hard-“

Smirking wickedly Soap teased,

“What if that’s what I want? Hm? Then I’ll have a reason to help you out...”

Being impressed wasn’t the word to describe how Ghost felt, more like flustered and very hot now.

“Smart bastard.”

“Only the best Lt-“

And with that he rubbed Ghost’s entire crotch area with his palm, receiving a jerk of Ghost’s hips and a low moan,

“Ahh Johnny.. slow down.”

“Yeahhh give me a minute. Let’s move a bit.”

Soap extended his knees towards Ghost and let them hold him up now, like a chair. Ghost sighed in relief at being seated now, and thought that was the end of it until he heard a zipper and hands on him.

ziiiip!

“Fuck Johnny!”

“Do you want me to stop?”

Knowing how desperate he was for release- more than anything Soap’s hands on him, he couldn’t say no.

“No.. go on!”

Face lighting up like Christmas Soap cheered to himself,

“Fuuuuck yeahhh-“

“GHOST! SOAP!! You boys alright!!”

Soap facepalmed and Ghost groaned upset as they recognized Price’s voice call out to them from under the vent. With a frown Soap zipped up Ghost’s pants as Ghost responded,

“Yeah, were good.. we’ll be coming down now.”

“Alright boys! Gaz will be here with a ladder... we already took out the guys and secured the leader... we can go now.”

Soap responded,

“Sounds good Captain, on our way.”

Slowly Ghost started to move, but Johnny pulled him back and whispered,

“We’ll continue right?”

A smile was known to be on Ghost’s face as his eyes crinkled. He lightly pinched Soap’s cheek and sassed,

“You said you’d make it up to me. I expect you do, in many ways.”

Soap groaned and smacked Ghost’s ass as he began to move off to get out,

“You bet I will Simon.”

Ghost looked back at him with sharp eyes, making Soap lift his hands in surrender.

“Easy Sergeant... easy...”

[im-his-druidess]

@purplelupins asked:

Okay hi everyone im Nora and im a total whore for slashers. Now then…

Imagine you’re running from the Hewitt house after being captured…you’d been spared that long purely because Thomas had taken a liking to you. But after a disgusting comment too many from Hoyt you took off…and of course they set Tommy on you. But he doesn’t even have his chainsaw- just his bare hands to get you. It doesn’t take him long to get you either, one wrong step and his arms are around you, lifting you into the air like a feather before you both tumble to the ground, panting and you’re kicking him even though you’re not necessarily scared of him, you’re just SCARED. So he pins you down to the grass, growling at you in hopes that you’ll hold still until he gets his legs over yours and weighs down on you, completely immobilising you. So now you’re just panting and staring up at Thomas, shaking.

And while Tommy is sad you ran, he can’t help that the adrenaline of chasing you has made his cock grow thick and pulsing against his leg. He can’t help that you squirming makes him want to tame you..breed you. Make you domestic.

He reaches for his belt, transferring your two wrists to one of his meaty hands like they were twigs, and fumbled with his apron and belt, pushing the fabric away and pulling until his leaking cock is jutting out and hanging heavy onto your stomach. You whine and whimper in terror now, now knowing what you’d gotten into, “T-Tommy you don’t have to do this…come on you like me right?” You gasp out as he tears your clothes off. It’s embarrassing how easy it was for him to leave you bare- your breasts bouncing out from your shirt and pants and panties nothing but rags now. You can’t even get out another plea before he leans over you and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth. Hard. He begins rutting into you like a beast possessed, forcing the head of his painfully thick cock inside you as he lost himself. You couldn’t see it, but god you fucking felt it.. it must have been the same width as your wrist all the way around. And with no preparation you felt tears in your eyes…but then your body betrayed you, your little cunt desperately coating itself with wetness to pull the blunt tip inside you greedily. You cried out as it slipped inside you , spreading you and stretching you so much you thought you might bleed. But he didn’t stop. His teeth and lips were still sucking at your nipples like he was starved, bucking his hips in time with his sucks, pushing and pushing until his heavy balls were flush against you. You sobbed out, but you werent sure whether it was from the forceful intrusion or the self hatred for your sweet little tight cunt begging for this brute to ruin it, almost making you cum when he bottomed out. Thomas fucked into you, and you were ashamed by how fast you were cumming, soaking him completely as he just kept fucking you through it…then you felt it. How it felt like his cock swelled even more, then how it pulsed, then the flood of thick cum filling you up. You stilled and breathed out in horror as Tommy pumped you full, spurt after spurt he just kept cumming. You wriggled and tried to get him out of you, but Thomas was having none of it. He grunted, pinned you down even harder…but then just when you thought he had finished with you and would let you up, you felt him start rutting into you again after sitting inside you, plugging you. He was still fucking hard. Now, you started to cry Dry tears, and went limp. You came uncontrollably and repeatedly for hours as he came inside you again and again…and again. You could feel a pool of cum around you and you knew you had a pudge in your abdomen from how much of it had been fucked inside you. But by the fifth time he had pumped your pussy, you were begging for more.

Oh my 👁️👄👁️

Nora, my Bestie, you never fail to amaze me 🥵

GIF by theoddsideofme

I don't even have words...to add to this wonderful post.

You hit just about all my favorite kinks like it was nothing and you captured bits of Thomas's personality even in such a short blurb. This was AMAZING!!!

Just...you and this post are just *chef's kiss* p e r f e c t i o n

[keepingitformyself]

we might just get away with it (ii)

AN: i’m so sorry for the delay on this second chapter, i got really caught up with uni stuff and then some personal projects i’ve been working on. anyways i have about a month off and will do my best to catch up on this story! hope u guys enjoy this one….happy holidays!

synopsis: hollywood is a tricky place for someone new like you, a certain elusive redhead is hoping for you to let her in.

pairings: writer!natasha romanoff x youngactress!reader

genre: fluff.

warnings: natalie is lowkey a mastermind. rumored romance with another certain actress…..

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

3 weeks later.

new york is everything you love, put into one city. you thrive in it’s anonymity, ironically.

it’s got the strong sense of culture, the food, the creativity, and the people. like every single person who walks the streets is made to belong there, they all have their purpose for making new york what it is.

that’s what you think as you’re sat outside a coffee shop on 463 w broadway.

you make a note of how one day you’ll commit to living here. you also make note of just how reckless it’d be if you just up and left la then never went back. you hate la, you’ve come to find out. yet there’s so much that keeps you there. you hate it. you don’t belong there. but in some sense of the word, you do.

you sigh with the shake of your head, adjust the cap securely on your head, and tighten the large overcoat you have on. the latte in front of you seeming more interesting now. the still hot liquid distracts you from the intrusive thoughts.

your mind drifts off to natalie. you’re immediately taken back to that night at the party. it’s your first time thinking of that night in weeks. and you realize how you truly haven’t felt the way you did that night, since. you remember the conversations you had, you remember how she went to school at nyu, how she told you she hasn’t left new york since. how she never plans to.

you wonder how she’s doing, if she’s in the city. if she remembers you, or has even thought of you.

it makes you a little sad to think about. your life hasn’t slowed down since the release of the series and sometimes all you wanted was to find some small relief in it all. even with the short-lived moments of connection it feels odd to come back from something like that and move on with your life.

your thought is cut short with a text message from samantha.

greta decided to move the meeting a little earlier. she apologizes for the last minute change. can you be there in the next 30 minutes?

you text a quick reply saying that you’ll be there as soon as you can. with that, you grab your to go cup and find the nearest subway that’ll take you up to 19th street.

you make it there just within the thirty minute mark. a kind man waits for you to arrive at the door and leads you up the elevator to the fourth floor of the walk up.

you’re surprised to see who is seated next to greta when you walk in.

“oh good, you made it! let me introduce you to—” you cut her off.

“—natalie.”

the redhead stands from her seat at the table and reaches over it to shake your hand.

“it’s a pleasure we meet again.” her eyes say something different. not bad necessarily, but something more. you’re not sure what it might be. greta’s eyes light up at the gesture.

“oh you’ve met! well, natalie here is gonna be joining us as head writer right besides me and noah for the next season.”

it’s your turn for your eyes to light up. a sense of relief floods through you. natalie isn’t here just to be here, she was here to be part of something with you.

you turn to her with a genuine smile. though you’ve worked with the people in this room for over a year, natalie is drastically different to them.

natalie was the first person who spoke to you as if you were just you. she didn’t bother you about work and stuff.

she talked to you about things that interested you, that interested her. she talked to you like you were just another individual who happened to be at the same party she was at.

“that’s- that’s actually really good to hear. i’m really excited for how this’ll turn out.”you let out a laugh, one that says you’re still trying to comprehend the news.

“right well, let’s get the meeting started!” greta claps her hands together and sits down.

——

natalie hasn’t stopped staring at you since the meeting started.

she hopes you’re as interested in the meeting as you look, because then at least she’d be sure you haven’t figured out her staring problem.

she only catches your eyes whenever greta or noah turn the attention towards her, then you’re forced to look at her. but she’s always just in time to look away before you can notice the stares.

the truth is, natalie is an absolute maniac. she’s a psychopath. she’s a writer for gods sake!

writers have a tendency to be more in sync with their awareness which is great…but they’re also more able to get in touch with that darker side in their psyche. how else do you think she managed to snag a few award-winning films under her belt?

her creativity reaches into places in her mind most wouldn’t even consider to think of.

point is, natalie is a huge romanticist, and it’s a problem. sometimes.

in her defense, greta came up to her for this job. so in some sense of the word, it was fate. plus, tony had put in a good word, not that she asked him to. obviously.

up until that point, natalie had no clue on how to get to you. her only idea was writing her next screenplay and giving you the lead.

but now, the ball was in her court. she takes the next shot.

the meeting ended and everyone was seeing themselves out. natalie thinks of what to say while she’s packing her things but you beat her to it instead.

“it was really nice to see you again.” she hears you say. she lifts her head up, you’re smiling and your hands are stuffed into your coat pockets. a smile easily reaches her eyes at the sight.

“i’m glad. i’ve already got some plans for where i want to take this next season.” natalie replies with an enthusiastic smile.

you raise your eyebrows in surprise eager to know what she might have to say but you hold yourself back. she wouldn’t spoil that for you, even if you asked.

“i have trust you’ll do it right then, i’ve already grown so protective of this show, especially my character.” it was very true. there were moments where you really had to oversee things going on with the script. thank god greta was as collaborative as she is. you’d always try exploring things with your character and she was always very supportive of where you’d take things. it made the series all the more fulfilling to you, honestly.

natalie confirms that she’ll do anything she thinks is in your best interest for the show and before she even realizes it, you’re making a move she wasn’t expecting.

“i know this is on short notice, but…i saw this really nice bistro on my way here and, i’d love to get to know my head writer more…over brunch?” you ask timidly. the thought to ask her had occurred to you only a few seconds ago. natalie seemed wise, and you liked it and she was here with you now and honestly, you just wanted some good company while being in the city.

“yeah i can do lunch. yeah that’s great actually.” natalie was surprised. to say the least. she hadn’t planned to continue the day with you. she decides this was her chance in. her way of getting to know you better, something she’s been desperate to get back to since she realized it that night in her home.

you lead her out of the building where you’re met with the crisp wind of new york city. car horns and police sirens are heard as you walk through the streets of the flatiron neighborhood. on the way to the restaurant you ask eachother how you’ve been.

you tell her about how you just wrapped up your press tour in europe and had spent a few nights with some friends in london. natalie pays close attention to every word that is hung from your lips. she notices to light blush that covers your cheeks and nose due to the cold and she almost reaches out to pull you in closer.

as you speak, she tries not to notice the obvious man with the camera that makes himself known a few hundred feet away from you. a sense of pride makes washes over her at the fact that there’d be a picture taken of the two of you, together.

you end your story and in return ask her how she’s been. natalie doesn’t miss the genuine interest shown in your eyes as she talks.

even as you reach the restaurant and are seated you never lose your sense.

natalie talks and talks and you listen. you’re so entranced by her stories that you’ve come to find that you deeply admire her for what she does and says. it makes you feel all the more excited for the chance at working with her.

she tells you she’s never not writing. even before greta came along to offer her the role of head writer, she was still writing. natalie tells you about the screenplay she was working on, how she plans to direct it as well.

you beam at her revelation seeming genuinely excited at the fact that she’d be making a movie sometime in the future. you tell her that she better invite you to the premiere.

natalie laughs off your comment. she doesn’t tell you how she got back into her writing after she saw you on her screen for the first time, all those months ago.

or how you’re the muse in her next story.

once your ordered food comes in you sit in a comfortable silence as you eat.

“what do you do on your days off?” natalie asks suddenly. she looks up at you through her lashes, her fork playing with the baked eggs on her plate.

you’re so caught off guard by her question it makes you blush at the way she stares you down. you chew down the food in your mouth and answer.

“uh, i like going home, to see my mom. she doesn’t let me stay for more than i need to though, she says i need to go out and meet new people.” you chuckle. your mom was your biggest supporter but also your biggest critic. although she always enjoys her time with you, she was always telling you to go meet with some of your hometown friends.

it’s why you liked going home so much. she’s great at grounding you when you need to be.

“oh? and have you met any new people?” natalie’s interest is piqued by now. she carefully treads around the question, hoping, wishing for any information that’d give her an in into what she desperately wants to know.

who are you with when you’re not alone? who do you think of when you are?

“i mean, i’ve met some really cool people through mutual friends." you reveal.

“wow, so you haven’t met anyone you fancy?” natalie plays it off coolly. she treads along the sacredness that is your romances. and natalie doesn’t mention the fact that she’s read into your love life recently. the rumors of you and another actress.

the one you were pictured with in london very recently.

“huh? oh, no. i don’t really have anyone like that in my life right now.” you nervously chuckle at her question.

“so you and that actress aren’t a couple? you and jenna ortega?” natalie feeds a forkful of food into her mouth, seeming very nonchalant about what she just asked.

you try not to laugh at natalie’s question. your eyebrows raise in surprise at her very forward question. it’s almost comical, really.

jenna was amongst the close group of friends you stayed with while in london.

she was a flame, someone you’d come to deeply admire over the time spent knowing her. she tells you things that you learn from, you check on eachother, you bring eachother back down to earth.

and she was one of the few people you could actually depend on with your life in this industry.

the silent shock wears off. you’re not sure what to say, except the fact that you feel a little embarrassed at her question. that even natalie of all people had heard about your supposed love life.

something that you tried to keep nurtured as much as possible.

“she’s one of my best friends.” you finally say. more sure than anything. you try not to laugh at the accusation. the idea of it seeming so far away from where you are now.

“i haven’t even dated in such a long time.” you even go as far to say. anything to make it clear you’re nowhere near any level of romance with anyone.

you miss the look of surprise on natalie’s face when you say this. she sets her fork down to sip from the breakfast martini she had ordered. she sets her glass down and takes a look at you, leaning forward only slightly.

“i was so sure someone as pretty as you wouldn’t have stayed single for so long.” then she looks down at her plate with a small smile, contemplating. there’s a beat of silence.

finally, she looks up.

“can’t say i’m disappointed at being proved wrong though.” she finishes.

you laugh at natalie’s comment. it’s all you could do, not really sure at what she could be getting at. you even blush a little.

and natalie misses none of it.

[butchspace]

I guess I kind of just use this account for PSAs now, and this has been on my mind a lot lately.

I figured out that I have OCD a few years ago, and recently I’ve seen a lot of bad advice around dealing with intrusive thoughts and obsessions.

There’s that post that goes around occasionally about “taking pictures of your oven knobs before you leave” or other things I’ve seen that say to “make a weird face when you lock your door.” THESE ARE COMPULSIONS. If you have/suspect you have OCD or you often struggle with things like that, please do not follow this advice. Instead, try to accept your intrusive thoughts and move on, not argue with them. Over time, they will get easier and easier to deal with. Ruminating, stressing, or arguing with them just makes them worse in the long run.

If you think you might have OCD and want to seek a specialist, the IOCDF’s home page has a lot of resources under the “find help” tab, including a locator.

I’m going to put the rest under a read-more because I’m going to talk a bit more in depth about intrusive thoughts and compulsions. This mostly because good OCD info is so sparse on line, and I’ve spent many hours compulsively researching OCD lmao.

Content warning:

discussion of unreality/doubting one’s own perception

discussion of specific compulsions

I’m not going to push this point too hard or shame anyone who doesn’t want to follow it, because OCD doesn’t really just go away. It’s a constant struggle. I give in to compulsions regularly, even though I am medicated and have seen a specialist to learn actual coping skills. It’s hard to resist sometimes and you don’t always have the energy, the awareness, or the power to ignore them. You do what you have to do to get through your day. The main difference is that the right medication and the right therapist make it easier to stay out of the spiral and to leave a spiral when you’re in one. They still happen. You still kind of have to play everything by ear.

Similarly, it is super fucking hard to get help or even get diagnosed. No regular therapist actually knows what the fuck it looks like, and specialists are few and far between and often don’t take insurance. It’s not fair or easy or necessarily productive to try and do exposure response prevention on yourself. Your “good coping skills” can even turn into an obsession or compulsion, where you’re constantly worried about what is an intrusive thought and what is not, or if you’re responding to them properly.

What I want to do is try to give at least some useful advice to people who are struggling with intrusive thoughts.

The best way to respond to them is not at all. This is especially true with OCD, because the response to them is sort of the root of this disorder. Sometimes, it’s recommended that with depression or anxiety you challenge your thoughts. In OCD, it’s the opposite. Challenging them can so easily lead you down a compulsion spiral. (More about that cycle from a professional.)

Compulsions can be entirely mental, but I’ll use a common behavioral one to look at how engaging with compulsions can go:

You start by taking a picture of the your stove knobs to make sure they’re all off. That works for a few hours or days, but then you start wondering if the knob is ever-so-slightly in the “on” position. You wonder if the picture proves they’re off enough. You forget to take the picture at all, and have to go back in to check anyways. You check your phone a few times before leaving to ensure that the picture is still there. You take several pictures because you can’t tell if you actually took any at all. You start to wonder if you can even trust what you see before your very eyes. What if you’re just imagining that the knobs are set to off? What if you’re just imagining the whole picture to begin with? The picture allows you to engage with your checking compulsion throughout the day, strengthening the connection between the intrusive thought and the urgency to do something about it. That means it gets worse. That means you find new ways to doubt your perception or your memory or whatever.

It can eventually get really bad. It’s hard and awful to try and deal with this on your own, but sometimes you have to.

It’s so shit. It’s so fucking shit how long many people suffer with mental illness without even knowing what’s going on. I didn’t know that my constant, overwhelming guilt over almost everything I’d ever thought or said or done or maybe did and couldn’t remember was the result of a disorder. It was so freeing to realize there was actually something that might help me, and I could learn to just live with myself and my weird ass thoughts that don’t necessarily mean anything at all. It’s so shit that OCD-awareness is so low among therapists. I was never going to get diagnosed until I found an OCD SPECIALIST (bold, italicized, all caps. Don’t trust people on psychology today who just put OCD in the list of what they treat.) and went over the Y-BOCS with her. It’s all so shit that several therapists I came to with textbook examples of OCD either ignored me or didn’t have the tools to help. I told one of them I “didn’t feel connected to reality” and he kind just went 🤷.

I just want everyone who is in that/a similar situation to at least have this information available to them.

If you want to learn more, these blogs from Sheppard Pratt were the best discussion of OCD I found online that really described what I was going through. They’re written by licensed therapists, several (all?) of whom live with OCD. They’re very healing to read if this is something you’re struggling with, or something you think you might be struggling with, and great in general if you want to learn more about OCD.

Whatever’s going on, OCD or not, have some grace with yourself. Take a few minutes today and do something kind for yourself, even just think one nice thing about yourself. You’re doing the best you can.

[eamour]

don't rush the process.

this is a post that goes out to all the people who currently have this "i need to have it now!! what‘s the fastest way??" mindset. i am telling you now that you do don’t need to rush the process. yes, you will get all of your desires. no "what if's", no "but's" — you have the ability to make your life beautiful and you will do that, regardless of how much time it might take you.

feel free to take your time.

actually, time doesn’t exist. hence the concept of the multiverse and parallel realities happening in this moment where you experience time very differently (in one reality you are a 13 year old, in one you are 45, in the other a day is 75 hours long, or in one reality an hour is 30 minutes long, and so on), time isn’t linear. it really pretty much is relative (einstein, our lord and saviour).

step by step.

take in the information, one by one. reorganize your thoughts and spend some time maybe facing and analyzing them. why do you have these thoughts? what makes you feel that way? try to get down to the roots of the issue.

you can organize thoughts by maybe writing them down. by maybe talking to someone about it. or maybe even talking to yourself. the main point of this is that you stop keeping negative thoughts to yourself. you might not be aware of it, but trying to not think of bad things doesn’t necessarily mean that you stop persisting in them. that’s not how a mental diet works. you face the issue, you comprehend it, and then you go against it. after you have witnessed a possible undesirable outcome, you can choose to declare it as false. — as in "it will simply not happen!", "nah, not true" or "this is so wrong". that’s when you start to persist in the outcome that you want to manifest or at least stop persisting in an assumption that you dislike, fear or hate.

take a break, if you want.

if you ever feel overwhelmed by all the information you think you might have overconsumed, take a step back and let yourself breathe. let your thoughts flow through your mind and just calm down, take a break. sometimes we need to slow down before we can continue again. sometimes you really just need to collect yourself and become aware of the intrusive thoughts you are having that just become louder and louder the more you try to force manifesting. it’s up to you to recognize that and to decide to give yourself some rest. there is nothing wrong with mentally resting and it’s definitely not something to be ashamed of. on the other hand, i think it might be very necessary at times. people who have a goal and who want to achieve it no matter what within the shortest amount of time often refuse to take breaks and just become entirely unavailable for a pause. and i understand that very well. but a break doesn’t have to be tiring. it doesn’t mean that you don’t get to do anything and force yourself even more to not think of anything unfavourable. taking a break means to allow thoughts, even negative ones, instead of forcefully pushing them away and trying to ignore them although you can’t seem to stop persisting in them. sometimes we encounter undesirable thoughts and they keep reappearing and sometimes we just need to let it happen. trust me, you aren’t taking steps backwards or erasing your progress. you are simply observing your thoughts instead of reacting to them right immediately.

you are already doing just fine.

there is simply no reason to rush all of this. no one expects you to have your desires and be a perfect runway model with a penthouse by next week. you are the only person in your life that can dictate yourself what to do, that can grant you your wishes, that can console and understand you… be empathetic with yourself. some people put such immense pressure on themselves, it’s really not doing you any good. yes, i totally get it. you want to have your desires as soon as possible, you might wanna show off, just break out of this cycle and show the world what you got. i know you want to prove it to yourself and maybe even the people around you as well. but you are perfect no matter what. you are a winner no matter what. you don’t need to manifest all of your desires right away and be a genius at persisting. you already manifest at all times, no one is going to judge your progress. and the same way you don’t need to "earn" the title "master manifestor". the fact that you are you, the main character, the only person in your reality that can manifest, makes you a master already. you have no one to compare yourself to other than yourself.

with love, ella.

[mariasont]

Hello! I saw you were taking some requests? I had an idea for a Spencer fic. The reader (afab) who is gender fluid but doesn’t like their chest area (as they are quite big) on certain days due to how they are feeling that day. Spencer helps them feel a little better by just helping them out with a fitting outfit from his clothes mixed with theirs too.

This can be purely fluff and just all sweet. But you can add anything else if it helps you pad out the story more.

Thank you!

Sweater - S.R

a/n: hi hi hi thank u so much for requesting sorry it took so long i wanted to make sure i did my research and remained sensitive to this subject <3

i hope you like it !!!

masterlist

‧₊˚ ✩°｡⋆♡ ⋆˙⟡♡ ⋆˙⟡♡⋆｡°✩˚₊‧

pairings: spencer reid x gender-fluid!afab!reader

summary: in which you struggle with your body and spencer helps you

warnings: a lil angst, fluff, body dysmorphia

wc: 0.8k

You absently scuffed the toe of your sock along the grain of polished floor, your head drifting to one side while your fingers fussed with your fingernail. Your eyes avoided the mirror in front of you, knowing you wouldn't necessarily like what you saw back.

Your fingers lingered along the hem of your shirt, a subconscious motion that sought to smooth more than just the wrinkles. The shirt, a second skin, hugged a little too closely, its lines a little too revealing. You pulled at the fabric, willing it to fall just right, to drape, to hide. 

A crease of frustration marred your face as you turned to the side, the reflection in the mirror stubbornly refused to align with the image in your head. The chest that some days felt like a part of you, today, felt like a stranger--too pronounced, too noticeable, too... there.

The bedroom door groaned softly on its hinges as Spencer appeared in the doorway. His eyes connected with yours in the mirror as he observed the strain etched in your shoulders, and the sudden pause in your hands' restless motion.

"Hey," he said, his voice was comforting, a welcome intrusion to the relentless tangled web that was your thoughts. "I'm making eggs. Do you want some?"

It was a simple offer, but that didn't matter. Just him being there made everything seem a little softer around the edges.

"Yes, please," you replied, feeling the tight coil of anxiety within you loosen ever so slightly.

Spencer's gaze lingered with a softness that betrayed its probing nature, as if he could strip away everything you were hiding, something he was able to do all too often. He stepped closer, his eyes never leaving yours.

"Do you know how much I love you?"

The question hung in the air, it was a rhetorical question really, but you felt the warmth that spread through you as you toyed with the hem of his shirt.

"As much as the neurons in our brains fire every second," you said, a fact Spencer had instilled into you like no other—he didn’t go a day without saying it.

"That's right," Spencer affirmed with a chuckle as he closed the distance between you.

His hands came up to cup your face, sweeping gentle strokes over your cheeks before planting a soft kiss against your forehead.

Spencer's voice was soft, almost hesitant, as if he was giving you the space to decide while he spoke into your skin. "Do you want to talk to me?"

You let out a small sigh, not of frustration, but of surrender as you leaned into his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heart—bump, bump—it was almost enough to lull you to sleep standing up in his arms.

"It's just one of those days."

He knew what you meant, of course he did. His arms wrapped around you.

"Did you know," he began, his voice steady and sure, "that the way we see ourselves can be influenced by so many factors, like mood, environment, and even the lighting of the room? It's important to me that you remember that our self-image isn't always an accurate reflection of reality."

You leaned further into his chest, eyes squeezing shut.

He paused, giving you a moment to absorb the words before pinching your sides. "Why don't you try on some of my clothes?"

"Yeah, okay," you agreed, you’d never say no to that offer.

Spencer's eyes crinkled with amusement as he moved towards the closet. "Sit tight," he called over his shoulder.

You perched on the bed, watching his lanky frame disappear into the closet. "Will you pick something out for me?"

"You trust me that much? Bold move."

A chuckle escaped you, and you shook your head, a strand of hair falling into your face. "Just no bow ties, please."

“No promises.”

Moments later, Spencer emerged, holding a soft-looking sweater and a pair of comfortable joggers. "Here."

You took the clothes, the fabric soft under your fingertips. It smelled like him."Turn around, please."

Spencer's eyebrow shot up. "Turn around?" he exclaimed, but his smile revealed just how amused he was.

He leaned in, pressing a quick, tender kiss to your lips before obligingly spinning on his heel to give you privacy.

With Spencer's back turned, you quickly changed into the clothes he had chosen. They were perfect—comfortable, roomy, and more importantly, made you feel more like yourself.

"Okay, you can look now."

Spencer turned, his gaze drinking you in, hands falling to rest on the small of your back. "How’s that feel?”

You looked down at yourself, then back up at him through the mirror. “Like I can breathe again.”

He nodded, his hand finding yours, giving a squeeze. “Good, because to me, you always look perfect.”

taglist: @hotchhner @khxna

[nocturnest]

Oooo I thought of an idea for the 3rd part of Amor and Timor!! You know how it left off with Jonathan staying over at Y/n’s apartment? Imagine her ex knocking on her door and either she answers the door and he forces himself in (which was not a good idea because guess who is sitting in her living room🤭🫣) orrrr JONATHAN answers the door… Either way the man is face to face with a very angry Jonathan Crane that now feels he needs to use more of what’s up his sleeve so that her ex gets the idea to leave her alone😅 Ooof and when that door closes behind him, either way he’d be locked in there with The Scarecrow who feels very protective of his girl🫣

I don’t know that her ex would leave this interaction alive😅

@kpopgirlbtssvt AHH LOVE THIS IDEA! protective jonathan for the win!

warnings: mild violence, references to sex (but they haven't actually done it yet don't worry!), a threatening presence

Your apartment was cozy. That was the first thing that came to mind when Jonathan stepped in. There were piles of books scattered across the room, a quite comforting similarity between your apartment and his own.

And now, here you two were. Your head in his lap as he slowly combed through your soft hair with his fingers. If only he knew how much he was affecting you with his feather-light touch.

Jonathan could sense that you were at peace, that you desired his presence. You wouldn't have sought him out otherwise, but he wasn't used to being accepted so willingly, to being able to be so open with another, to being wanted.

The soft glow of the television illuminated the room. You had picked a psychological thriller, Se7en. It wasn't necessarily scary but it made your skin crawl. There were moments when you snuggled closer to Jonathan, your nose nuzzling his neck. While Jonathan didn't like to see you frightened, he couldn't help but feel a sort of pride that you found solace in him, that his presence meant you were safe.

As Jonathan continued to run his fingers through your hair with gentle strokes, you felt yourself drifting into a state of blissful relaxation. The stresses of the day melted away, replaced by a sense of tranquility that only his touch could provide.

Just as you were on the brink of drifting off to sleep, a sharp knock at the door shattered the peaceful atmosphere. You jolted awake, the sudden interruption jarring you back to reality.

Jonathan's expression hardened as he rose from the couch, his protective instincts kicking into high gear.

"Are you expecting anyone?"

You gave a sleepy smile, "Not at this time of night."

"I'll get it," he said, squeezing your hand before making his way to the door, his posture tense yet controlled.

As Jonathan swung open the door, your ex stood on the threshold, his presence an unwelcome intrusion into your sanctuary. You stood up from the couch with shaky legs. Before your ex could utter a word, Jonathan's icy gaze silenced him, his voice cutting through the tension like a knife.

"Well, well, well," Jonathan said, his tone dripping with sarcasm. "Look who decided to drop by uninvited." He immediately wishes he had his fear gas with him, which he wouldn't hesitate to use on this man (if he could even call him that).

From what you can see over Jonathan's shoulder, there was anger in your ex's expression, and then utter confusion.

"Is that my shirt?"

"Hm," hummed Jonathan thoughtfully as he looked down and inspected the shirt that you had given him, "I suppose it's mine now." You couldn't see Jonathan's expression as he speaks but he's grinning.

You wanted him to be more comfortable as he was staying the night. In fact, you had bought the shirt yourself for your ex but he never ended up wearing the damn thing. He claimed that he wouldn't be caught dead in it.

Your ass of an ex scowled, threw his hands up with frustration, and practically roared with anger like the complete and utter fool that he was, "You're seriously going to choose this twig over me? You're already whoring yourself out to other men? I'm not surprised that you're that desperate. You were terrible in bed anyways."

Something flicked in Jonathan's expression. Jonathan's grin widened, a glint of mischief yet anger dancing in his eyes as he exchanged a knowing glance with you. He leaned against the doorframe casually, his demeanor almost playful despite the tension in the air.

"Well, I must admit your assessment of her character is quite revealing of your own," Jonathan remarked, his tone cool and collected.

Jonathan tilted his head and whispered something you couldn't quite hear, "I'll have you know that she's remarkable in bed. In fact, my throat is rather sore from screaming her name. But you don't need me to tell you that, do you?"

Your ex's face contorted with rage, his fists trembling at his sides as he struggled to find a retort. But before he could unleash another verbal assault, Jonathan stepped forward, his presence towering over him.

"Now, now, there's no need for name-calling," Jonathan said, his voice laced with mock sympathy. "I suggest you take a lesson in manners before you go around insulting people. It's unbecoming, you uncouth oaf."

Your ex gave another look of anger but also bewilderment. You were trying and failing to hold back laughter.

He paused and backtracked, "Oh - my sincerest apologies, I know better than to use words that you don't know." He emphasized the last three words by prodding your ex's chest with his finger.

Your ex fidgets with his hands and shuffles backwards, "You-"

Jonathan interrupted him, his thoughts elsewhere, waving his hand away from the door, "Go on, now. Begone! Please assist with depriving us of your pathetic presence."

Your ex looked between you and Jonathan, his face unreadable, and before you could even speak, he leaned backward before punching Jonathan in the face.

You gasp with surprise as your ex's fist connected with Jonathan's face with a sickening thud, sending him stumbling backward. Shocked gasps escaped your lips as you watched Jonathan's glasses clatter to the floor, his hand instinctively flying to his now bleeding nose.

Without a second thought, adrenaline surged through you as you rose to your feet, your protective instincts kicking in. You stepped forward, your voice trembling with fury.

"Get out," you spat, your tone dripping with venom. "Get out of my apartment and never come back."

Your ex recoiled at the intensity of your words, his eyes widening with fear as he realized the gravity of the situation. With a muttered curse, he turned on his heel and fled from the apartment, his retreat marked by the sound of the slamming door.

As the echoes of his departure faded into silence, you turned your attention back to Jonathan and reached for a kitchen towel. With your heart pounding in your chest, you approached him cautiously and lifted his chin with gentle hands, meeting his pained gaze with a mixture of concern and determination.

"Let me see," you murmured, your voice soft as you examined the damage to his nose. Blood trickled down his face, staining his shirt with crimson droplets.

Jonathan winced as you gingerly touched the tender skin around his nose, his breath catching in his throat. You pressed the towel against his face. Despite the pain etched on his features, there was a flicker of gratitude in his eyes as he looked at you, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed between you.

As you tended to Jonathan's injury, your hands trembling slightly with a mix of nerves and concern, you couldn't help but feel a surge of empathy for him.

"I'm sorry," you whispered, your voice barely above a hush. "I should have been more careful. I didn't expect him to... to..."

Jonathan shook his head gently, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips despite the pain. "It's not your fault," he reassured you, his voice soft yet resolute. "You couldn't have known he would react like that."

You sighed, feeling a weight lift from your shoulders at his words. "Still, I should have been prepared. I should have stood up to him sooner."

Jonathan reached out, his hand bringing yours to his lips for a kiss. "You did stand up to him," he said, his gaze meeting yours with unwavering intensity. "You showed courage and strength in the face of adversity. And for that, I admire you."

A blush crept across your cheeks at his words, a warmth spreading through you at the sincerity in his gaze. "Thank you," you murmured, your voice barely audible. "That means a lot to me."

You grinned as you recalled Jonathan's words to your ex, "You really know how to shut someone down with style. I must say, your insults are quite impressive."

Jonathan's lips curled into a smirk, a glint of mischief dancing in his eyes. "Well, I do try to maintain a certain level of eloquence, even in the face of ignorance," he quipped, his tone light yet tinged with amusement.

You chuckled softly, feeling a sense of camaraderie growing between you as you basked in the aftermath of the confrontation. "Consider me thoroughly entertained," you replied, a playful twinkle in your eyes.

Jonathan's laughter mingled with yours, the sound filling the room with warmth and light. As the laughter subsided, you found yourselves gazing into each other's eyes, a silent understanding passing between you. You marveled at how beautiful his smile was.

For a while, the two of you sat on the couch in companionable silence, the only sound filling the room the quiet hum of the heater and the soft patter of snow against the windowpane. And as you curled into Jonathan's side, you felt a sense of peace wash over you, a feeling of connection that transcended words. You felt safe.

@kiss-me-cill-me hope you enjoy part three!

@mothhball thought you might be interested!

[aiura-stan]

I love the idea that Teruhashi might be thinking this. (I know she isn’t Teruhashi, but still.) It’s so outright aggressive and mean, instead of her more low key “Saiki should be obsessed with me!” thoughts as in canon proper, lol.

Also notable that the first mention of Saiki being markedly different from other people is here: “If a normal person heard them he would undoubtedly have a mental breakdown after three seconds.” Maybe it’s true, probably an exaggeration on Saiki’s part, but it definitely highlights that what he deals with, mentally, is on another level, and he is able to deal with it.

LMAO. this one made me laugh… it’s like yikyak but worse!! like yikyak but including things people wouldn’t even say on there, read out loud… phewww.

Saiki says his powers are “in the wrong” rather than peoples’ thoughts. However, the way he words the second part about how you can’t dress up what’s on the inside strikes me as odd. I was trying to think of the reasoning behind this sort of sentiment that Saiki expresses here, because it repeats later in the manga proper. And I think, it boils down to this incorrect assumption he has, that people’s thoughts are their true feelings. My guess on where comes from is probably either Kuniharu or Kuusuke, who both express a lot of resentment for him. In each of their cases, that really is how they feel, and they make no effort to change it, and there’s not a lot of positive emotion thrown in there either. At least as a child, Kuusuke spent a lot of time actively trying to hurt his brother. And Kuniharu probably did too, if we take all of the examples of him trying to get “revenge” on Kusuo into account.

So it never occurs to him at first that people might have intrusive thoughts, or have thoughts they don’t necessarily believe pass through their heads, or thoughts they ultimately challenge and thoughts that directly contradict their behavior.

Okay angsty rant over lol

‘nother thing that strikes me as funny, not in a good way this time… really now. I have never met a girl who was that jealous of another girl’s boobs. If anything, I’ve met girls who got them too young and wished they hadn’t because of teasing.

Maybe it’s a cultural difference, maybe it’s the fact that a male author wrote this who doesn’t really know (or care) about accurately depicting teenage girls’ concerns in a comedy… anyways.

I beg to differ Saiki… that IS an incredible tattoo and I want to see it… I want that tattoo.. haha. And who cares if some people are bald?? and trans people exist?? Saiki likes to complain about things that do not matter at all. I guess he probably feels like it’s a burden to keep other people’s secrets, or something. He is just a teenager after all.

tbh I kind of wish that Asou had kept this if only for dramatic effect

come on… look at this…

Sigh. I love examples of Saiki interfering with fate just to help someone.

Okay, that’ll do it for part one of this post. Part two in a bit. 💕

[ticklystuff]

"Are you ticklish?"

a/n: ty kafka for the fic idea

characters: caelus, dan heng

wc: ~2.6k

summary: one truth, one lie~

"One round."

"No."

"Please?"

Dan Heng sighed to himself, ready to turn down Caelus' request once more, only to pause the second he looked up from his phone. Although the other was seated the same way as before, there was a slight pout to his lips that accompanied the plea in his eyes, his upper body just barely leaning over the other end of the mattress that was Dan Heng's bed. If this were March, the archivist would have no problem shooting her down, maybe even going as far to say he somewhat enjoyed it when he got the chance, but there was something different with Caelus, an unfamiliar feeling that Dan Heng found himself inept at putting into words. He found himself nearly caving to the request, but promptly shook his head. "No, no," he quickly turned the other down, unable to look him in the eyes while doing so. "No games."

Caelus huffed as folded his arms, the puppy-dog expression dissipating immediately at the sign of rejection. "But why not? You don't even know what the game is."

"Because I suspect it's a game you and March created to make a fool of me," he put it bluntly. "Am I right?"

"Wha- No!" Maybe Caelus was being honest with how vehemently he denied the claim. "March wasn't even involved.. this time. Someone else taught me, okay? March has nothing to do with this!"

Dan Heng stared at the other, flipping through the potential consequences of entertaining this "game" in his head, ultimately releasing a heavy sigh in the end. "At least tell me what the game is and I might consider playing."

One would think that Caelus had already won the actual game with the way he beamed in response. "Alright, so the game is called 'One Truth, One Lie.' It's simple; we ask each two questions per round and for one question, you have to answer with the truth. The other question, though, you have to give a lie. Easy, right?"

Dan Heng tapped an index finger to his leg as he gave thought to the rules presented to him. "How do I know when you're lying, though?"

"That's the point," Caelus said. "You don't."

"Huh, okay," he mumbled in thought, giving himself a moment to ponder. "Then what's stopping me from answering with two lies?" he threw his thoughts into the air, not necessarily directing his question at Caelus. "Or even two truths?"

"Ugh, don't be like that," Caelus shook his head at the notion. "It's no fun if you decide to cheat."

"I'm still not sure what's the end goal of this game, though."

"J-Just roll with it," Caelus stammered, huffing impatiently. "Please?"

Dan Heng tilted his head inquisitively, thinking of the many outcomes of the game. It seemed relatively benign and the overall nature was harmless, so maybe, just maybe, there was no ulterior motive? He gave Caelus one long final glance, receiving a big grin in response that only made Dan Heng sigh. "Fine, we'll go a round." He figured Caelus wouldn't take 'no' for an answer, regardless.

Caelus mouthed an inaudible 'yes' and Dan Heng couldn't help but chuckle at how very visibly excited he was. "Alright, alright," Caelus scooted closer, a little too close, "I'll go first."

Dan Heng watched as the other stared at the ceiling in thought, but as the seconds passed without a first question, he started to wonder whether this game was as simple as initially presented. "Err, you good?" Dan Heng blinked at Caelus, still awaiting a response. "Should I go-"

"Just shh," Caelus quickly waved his hand in the air and Dan Heng shut his mouth. "Okay," he breathed, a noticeable quiver to his voice. "W-What do you think about me?"

That was it? Nothing intrusive, or embarrassing even? Dan Heng couldn't help but raise an eyebrow, expecting a second question, but Caelus' held his wide eyes and what seemed to be bated breath for Dan Heng's response. "I-" he paused, pondering how he should go about his answer.

"You?" Caelus nudged him along. There was a glint of anticipation in his eyes that distracted Dan Heng for the briefest of moments, but he simply brushed it off.

"I like you," Dan Heng said with a simple nod, choosing to start off with the truth.

"You do?!"

"Uh, that's what I said, yes," he responded, taken back by the sudden eccentricity, blinking at the way Caelus seemed to visibly shake with excitement. "You're a dependable ally in combat and a great friend."

What he wasn't expecting was the complete one-eighty in expression, watching the ecstatic grin morph into a dejected frown and slouched shoulders. "Uhh, did I say something wrong?" There was genuine concern in his voice because what in Aeon's name did he say to hurt the poor thing?

"N-No, I just-"

"Should I have said that I hate you?"

"No!" Caelus nearly cried out, before sighing, balling up his fists as he recomposed himself. "I guess I just was ho- err, expecting something else? But y'know, you might be lying."

"I suppose?" Dan Heng wasn't sure what he was getting at. Why did it feel like he was playing the game wrong?

"Okay," Caelus inhaled with a nod, "your turn for a question."

"Mmmm," came an inward hum from Dan Heng's chest as he gave his first question some thought. He now realized why Caelus took so much time initially; an infinite amount of possibilities existed, so how could he just stick to one? As he took glances around the library he called his room, his eyes finally landed on Caelus' phone beside his leg and a suitable question finally sprung to mind. "How much money have you spent on your gambling games?"

"Uh, actually gachas aren't considered gambling because you still win a prize at the end, no matter the outcome," Caelus explained matter-of-factly.

"Okay, whatever helps you justify your gambling addiction."

"Well, I'm free to play, okay?" Caelus rolled his eyes at the sudden jab.

An amused chuckle slipped from Dan Heng's lips as he raised an eyebrow. "Really now?"

"Uh-huh."

"Yet you always bug me and March to pay for your lunch."

"Food always tastes better when it's free!"

Well, he couldn't argue with that. Still, he took one long final stare at Caelus, just to make sure, but found the other impossible to read, prompting a confident shrug that further threw Dan Heng off. Not that he believed Caelus at all, but his rather convincing mannerisms seemed to suggest otherwise. "Alright, your turn again," Dan Heng said once finished with his "investigation".

"Okay, I have the perfect question," Caelus said, leaning in with a smirk that Dan Heng already didn't like. "Dan Heng, are you.. ticklish?"

What a strange person this man was. Of all things he could ask, tickling was one of the things to settle on? Not about Dan Heng's past, or his most embarrassing moments, but tickling? Dan Heng blinked at the other, waiting to see if he'd take the chance to backtrack, but Caelus seemed content with his question, sitting there with a small smile as he waited. 

"I'm not," Dan Heng lied, folding his arms together. All the flashbacks of March, Himeko, even Welt on occasion, providing passing tickles seemed to rush to the forefront of his mind the instant he spoke, but he held a straight face for the sake of the game.

The smug smirk never left Caelus' face, even after Dan Heng presented his answer. "Really? You're not lying?"

"The rules of the game prevent me from revealing that," Dan Heng held firm.

"But do the rules of the game prevent me from revealing that?" Caelus asked the other. There was a brief glint in his eyes that Dan Heng failed to decipher as it disappeared, leaving him to sit there, perplexed by his actions.

What exactly was he getting at-

In hindsight, with a such a random question revolving around tickling, Dan Heng should've expected the unfolding turn of events, starting with Caelus pouncing on top of him, to the inevitability of Dan Heng being pinned to the floor, struggling under the weight of the other with futile protests. "Don't you dare!" came a hiss through clenched teeth, his hands desperately gripping Caelus' wrists, but Caelus' own hands were already positioned right where they needed to be, the space between Dan Heng's sides and Caelus' fingertips practically nonexistent.

"Oh, and what's the issue?" His tone was sweet, but Dan Heng's ears were not folly to the taste of mischief masked behind that saccharine grin. "I thought you said you weren't ticklish."

"The issue is that you're clearly going against the rules of the game!" He gritted his teeth as Caelus's fingers shifted to just barely pressing a small indent into Dan Heng's skin through the thin fabric of his shirt, resisting the urge to jolt under Caelus' grip.

This did not go unnoticed by Caelus, however, as if he was absorbing every reaction to personally store away, clearly enjoying the situation with a gleam in his eyes. "There's no harm in checking, right?"

"Caelus, n-no!" He inwardly cursed himself for the stutter in his voice, undermining his own facade. It didn't help that Caelus had now added another finger to each side, pestering Dan Heng with sporadic pokes. Normally, the archivist would shrug something like this off, but his sense of pride refused to allow Caelus to break the rules of his own game so nonchalantly. Not to mention the potential repercussions if Caelus did actually find the answer to what he was looking for. Dan Heng would shudder at the thought if not already preoccupied with the incessant jabs to his sides.

"Dan Heng, yes!" The gutturalness to Caelus' voice really added to his already over-the-top impish nature and Dan Heng did not like it one bit. Where did he learn this behavior from?! As if to answer his own question, a brief image of March popped into his head, but his focus soon returned to the situation at hand, as Caelus ripped his hands out of Dan Heng's grip and lunged at the other, all in one swift maneuver.

"W-Wait! Caelus!" His voice nearly cracked in frenzy, legs instinctively curling into his chest to protect his ribs just within reach of Caelus' fingers. He leveraged one arm to push against Caelus' body, while the other arm desperately fought off Caelus' own. "Why are you doing this?!"

Ignoring the question altogether, Caelus quickly backed off, only to send Dan Heng back into a panic at the feeling of a hand closing around his ankle, followed by a swift swipe up the sole of his foot. Though short-lived, the brief sensations were just enough for Dan Heng to uncurl his legs in an attempt to kick at Caelus, only to realize the betrayal of his own reflexes once his upper body was exposed yet again, creating just the perfect opening for Caelus to pounce and claim his prize.

"Caelus!! N-NohohOHOHOhoho!"

Time seemingly slowed for Dan Heng as the archivist did his best to defend himself, but Caelus' actions moved in real time and it wasn't long till his fingers met Dan Heng's ribs, eliciting a screech that was new to the both of them. There was a moment of pause, as if Caelus was registering everything that had just happened, and Dan Heng could have very well taken advantage of the split second of respite, but he did not like the fool he was, practically surrendering himself when Caelus started up again. His legs instinctively curled inwards just like before, but this time, Caelus was there to block him, undisturbed as Caelus made his ribs the center of attention.

"Wait, wait! Caeluhuhuhus! Stop! StaHAHAhahap!"

"Mmmm, I think you were lying in your last answer, Dan Heng," Caelus spoke nonchalantly, as if Dan Heng's frantic laughter wasn't echoing throughout the archive room. "But maybe you can tell me the truth yourself?"

At this point, the true answer to Caelus' query was quite evident, yet there was a sliver of him that went against the grain, willing him to hold onto denial. Maybe his pride took the best of him, or perhaps his own laughter ringing throughout the room had started to dishevel his line of logic; Dan Heng wasn't too sure himself, but those brief thoughts were soon usurped by the sensations at his ribs slowly making their way lateral of his midsection, heading straight for just what Dan Heng feared. 

"Wait! Waitwaitwait- wahahahahait!" Gentler touches were all that was needed, enough to send Dan Heng into panic with minimal effort, as he knew their intent full-well. His body arched forward and he flailed his limbs in an attempt to stop Caelus, yet it was like his arms turned to lead in the moment, heavy and powerless to stop the other as all he could really do was plead.

"I think we're about to really find out if Dan Heng is ticklish or not." The tone in his voice was mischievous, triumphant, almost ravenous; it was anything but innocent, which just went to show Dan Heng just how much Caelus was enjoying the moment. He didn't get too much time to ponder on this, however, as Caelus' fingers soon trailed up the side of his midsection, sending Dan Heng's eyes wide as he shook his head.

"GYAHAHA!" was what slipped past his lips at first contact, Caelus making his mark with two fingers digging into each underarm, as if each hand were needles to a balloon, pointed and precise, but their impact was very real, the overloading sensations engulfing Dan Heng in howling laughter as he was unable to deny the inevitable. "OKAY! OKAHAHAY! I-I'M TICKLIHIHIHISH!"

"Hmm? What was that? I can't understand what you're saying."

This bastard.

"YEHEHES! I'M TICKLISH! STAHAHAP!"

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, Caelus brought the tickling to a slow, allowing a slow stream of giggles to flow, before removing his hands from Dan Heng's underarms altogether. "Aww, Dan Heng, you broke the rules of the game." Caelus' words barely registered in his brain and Dan Heng would've shot him a disgruntled frown were he not busy panting from the ordeal.

"Screw off," he hardly managed through heavy breaths, giving Caelus a weak shove so that he could finally sit up again. "Are we done here?"

"Uh, no," Caelus spoke pointedly, hands on his hips. "You still need to ask me one more question."

Dan Heng rolled his eyes, already through with Caelus at this point. Something simple would do, anything to end the game and get Caelus off his back, and just as he was about to speak, an idea popped into his head, prompting Dan Heng to cut himself off at the last moment. 

"What was that?" Caelus looked at him expectantly.

"Ah, I had just settled on a question," Dan Heng began, clearing his throat before speaking again, "but Caelus, are you ticklish?" He watched for Caelus' reaction, almost relishing in how his mouth flattened, with the instant shade of red spreading across his face. 

"Uh, well-"

"Oh, and remember, there are ways of checking if you're lying or not," Dan Heng flatly reminded him, taking in just how easily flustered Caelus had become, playing right into Dan Heng's hand.

Dan Heng observed as Caelus breathed a sigh, avoiding eye contact as he twiddled his thumbs in his lap. The corner of his mouth nearly twitched into a smile that Dan Heng took effort into stifling, but there was something so satisfying with how easily the tables turned.

With a deep breath, Caelus finally looked Dan Heng in the eyes, speaking in the softest of voices, a stark contrast from his earlier demeanor.

"Yes, I'm ticklish."