#believing so is ridiculous and a lot of other things i don’t have the brain power to discuss right now but

[coffee-and-geto]

“WHO YOU GONNA CALL? CURSEHUNTER!”

“That’ll cost you 33,000 yens, ma’am.” “What?!” “Unless you offer other methods of payment. I’m flexible by nature, though.”

pairing: curse hunter! toji fushiguro x f!reader | kinkoctober m.list

summary: for halloween, you and your group of friends — where your boyfriend has taken a break from your relationship — decide to spend the evening in an old mansion turned into a hotel. with a rather strange staff and weird things going on in the mansion, everything leads you to end up calling a specialist to the situation — toji, the curse hunter for your evening can do his job, sure, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let you off the hook so easily when you can’t afford him…

warnings: +18 ONLY, smut, nsfw, AU with curses, haunted house, (slight) angst, cheating because the reader has an (ex) boyfriend but he’s a cheater, utahime makes an appearance, sex (p in v), squirting, oral (f! receiving), rough sex, dirty talk, fingering (f! receiving), overstimulation, lot of teasing, doggy + missionary positions, size kink.

wc: 5,963

“Wow!”

“It’s a really scary décor!” comments one of your friends, covering her mouth as her jaw drops in surprise.

“Same for the staff,” you add with a frown, glancing around at the spooky theme that’s everywhere—the walls, the bedrooms, even the kitchen and living room. But you can’t ignore how strange the staff in the lobby were when you all checked in for your rooms.

“Don’t be silly, it’s all part of the ambiance.” Your boyfriend nudges you playfully with his elbow, flashing his usual smirk, but this time it doesn’t work. You’re so tired of him.

“And she’s right,” snaps Utahime, who links her arm with yours to pull you further away from the annoying duo made up of one of your friends and your boyfriend. “But of course, coming from you…” She scrunches her nose, looking annoyed.

You sigh. “It’s fine, Hime, I can handle it—”

“This jerk needs a scare big enough to make him crap his pants, believe me,” she interrupts, gently tugging you along as she takes the lead to find your bedroom. “He doesn’t deserve you.”

You glance back toward the rooms of the others, including your boyfriend, then look forward with a disappointed pout. His attention should be on you, not anyone else—it should be shining like a star for you, not for some friend.

“Do you think the story about this manor is true?” you whisper when Utahime finally finds room 311-1.

She shakes her head but hurries to unlock the door, casting nervous glances at the dim hallway lights, which are anything but reassuring. “The point is to get us in the mood, obviously, but the staff went a bit too hard with the costumes…”

Finally, you both step into the room, where the soft, victorian decor makes your friend sigh with relief.

“At least the room itself isn’t weird,” she laughs, relaxing a little.

You smile faintly, taking in the shared bedroom. “Yeah, not too bad.”

In the next hour, the two of you have fun picking apart the manor’s ambiance, spinning wild theories about the place. Your mood lifts again, and since you already had dinner on the way here, at least you don’t have to worry about the creepy staff involving you in some haunted-house-style horror event.

Or worse, poisoning you.

But what a ridiculous idea, right?

There’s no reason for that. No one would do that. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have come.

~~~~

Why always you?

Of course. Your brain had to convince you, “No danger; they haven’t announced a Halloween night event yet!”

“You will be paired up in twos by random draw,” a staff member dressed as the Joker announces cheerfully, handing out small slips of paper with numbers and a map that looks much like a pirate’s treasure map, but is actually the hotel floor plan. “When you enter the first room — different for each pair — you’ll find an object and a riddle that will indicate which room is next.”

He bounces slightly in front of the reception desk, nearly giddy with excitement, which is unsettling given the blood-red lines around the corners of his mouth.

“This means that whoever finds the most hidden spots will win a prize at the end of the night,” he concludes, looking over your group one by one. “But be careful — this mansion has a spooky history, and some ghosts may come to visit!” He laughs, joined by a few others.

As you examine your number, you look around for your boyfriend, hoping to have drawn the same number so you can spend some time with him despite the break he recently put on your relationship. But no.

One of your friends — Nami, the one who’d commented on the decor — is already giggling beside him, paying no attention to you or the boundaries she’s crossing with her little “friendly” touches.

You inhale deeply, trying to ignore the sharp sting of jealousy. Just then, Utahime leans over your shoulder, checking your number. “Hey, looks like we’re together!”

You let a smile spread over your face and head with her to the first floor, where the first prize is hidden.

“I hope they didn’t hire any actors to scare us, or I might just hurt someone,” you mutter darkly, the dim lighting and ornate wallpaper in the hallways sending a chill down your spine.

“Same,” Utahime chuckles softly, pulling out a small flashlight. She switches it on and shines it ahead. “This should help, right? Check the map.”

You do, studying the hallway details on the paper to get your bearings. “Yeah, we’re close to room 456,” you say, looking up.

In a long walk that feels like it stretches out forever, Utahime and you move at the same steady pace, maintaining a comfortable distance, wrapped in silence as though no one else is on any floor.

“We’re here,” you announce as Utahime shines her light on the brass plaque for room 456.

You open the door carefully, flicking on the light, and catch a vague movement out of the corner of your eye near the edge of the sitting area. You snap your head in that direction, but there’s nothing.

“Did they set up special effects?” you wonder aloud.

“Probably,” Utahime reassures you, heading towards a bookshelf where a velvet-covered box with emerald and gold accents catches her eye. She grabs it, opening it to find a slip of parchment and a key.

You take a more careful look around the room, inspecting every corner, and almost miss what Utahime has found until she calls out to you.

“Next room, here we come!” she says happily.

~~~~

“Is it just me, or have we been walking for a while?” you remark after several minutes of silence, back in the hallway but on the second floor this time.

“Yeah, feels like it.” Utahime swings her flashlight around, lighting up the walls, curtains, and carpet in the dimly lit halls. It’s as if the already faint lights were growing even weaker.

BANG!

Both of you jump, turning in unison towards the unknown source of the noise.

“Fuck,” Utahime curses, “them and their damn effects.”

You exhale a shaky breath meant to calm your still-racing heart, but the cold breath on the back of your neck isn’t helping. “Utahime, is that you—” You turn to look at your friend, who’s cautiously moving closer to you, when a piercing female scream echoes throughout the hotel.

“Can we cancel this night?” Utahime doesn’t wait for your answer, grabbing your arm and dragging you into a frantic sprint down the corridors, where more and more doors seem to open and close on their own.

Then, suddenly, something grabs you by the arm, pulling you into the darkness.

When you finally open your eyes, you’re half-sprawled on the floor in partial darkness, with only the faint candlelight the hotel keeps in the eerie corridors as a precaution. You stand up immediately, pulling out your phone in an attempt to send a message to your friends’ group chat, but no one is active.

You then try to call reception, your eyes scanning an environment that no longer feels amusing in the slightest. This has to be part of the game.

Doesn’t it?

But after several rings, no one picks up.

“Goddamnit,” you mutter.

You resign yourself to finding a door, a room, or anything that could help you call the police or figure out a way to avoid getting caught by a real ghost in this creepy manor.

Your gaze scans the walls, your phone’s light barely illuminating the darkest corners due to its low battery. And the only thing that stands out is a notice pinned to the wall that has you scrambling to get your phone out again.

IN CASE OF EMERGENCY DURING THE HALLOWEEN HUNT, IF THE RECEPTION DOESN’T RESPOND, CALL THIS NUMBER:

You dial it, barely caring who it might reach given the seriousness of your situation.

After the second ring, someone picks up, their tone filled with mocking amusement and a hint of nonchalance:

“Hello?”

You’re saved.

~~~~

Back to square one — you’re anything but saved.

“This is the emergency response?” you spit out, feeling lost and baffled as you stand before a man approaching you about twenty minutes after a more-than-frustrating phone call.

He’s tall, broad-shouldered, with toned muscles and an arrogance that seeps from every pore of his skin.

“Toji Fushiguro, at your service, ma’am,” he replies sarcastically, giving a slight bow, a smug smile stretching the scar across his mouth.

“And you are…?”

“A curse hunter — don’t ask too many questions, I’m used to it,” he cuts you off, striding past without a glance. “Just follow me.”

You stand there, speechless, frozen to see if he’ll react, but he just keeps whistling and walking.

You were in deep trouble.

Reluctantly, you catch up, glaring at him coldly as he gives you a quick glance. “Do you have the money?”

“That’s really all you care about?” you retort bitterly. “Isn’t the hotel supposed to cover emergencies like this? We’re all lost, and—”

“Careful!!” Toji pushes you against the wall, pulling out a unique sword with a red and gold hilt and slashing it sharply through the air.

Nothing seems to have been hit at the moment, but the distinct sound of the slice is unmistakable.

“So, it wasn’t a joke when they said there were ghosts?”

“Curses,” he corrects, sheathing his weapon. He surveys the rest of the hallway and looks up at the ceiling. “They’re on the floor above.”

Several minutes later, you’re there, with high-pitched screams filling the air; among them, you recognize Utahime’s and some of your other friends. You start to rush to her, but Toji grabs you by the waist.

“Hold up!” he tuts, looking a bit more serious. “The lady stays here.”

“But my friend is in there!” you protest, struggling to break free.

“What a little firebrand!” Toji grumbles, pinning you against the wall. His warm breath brushes your face, and you hold back the urge to kick him. When he breathes in to speak, your intoxicating scent fills his nose. “I’m the pro here, got it? I’ll save your friend, and then we’ll talk about the price.” He releases you when you hold his gaze firmly enough to make him trust you.

“If anything happens to her, I’ll make you eat every one of your damn curses, okay?”

He snorts before disappearing down the corridor.

In the next hour, all the curses are quickly neutralized — even if no one actually sees them, their heavy, lingering “presence” was enough to give away what was happening.

“Most people went back to their rooms,” Toji informs you, guiding you toward your floor.

“That was fast.”

“As usual,” he sighs, hands in his pockets.

“Why isn’t the staff responding?” you ask, feeling more reassured and open to conversation now.

“It’s a real haunted manor, so they know that when you play, you just risk being bugged by the curses, nothing more.” He shrugs, pulling out his phone to check the time, and you mentally slap yourself for noticing how his forearm muscles flex slightly. “Plus those fuckers are never there on time to pay me, even though they require my services.”

“Oh, right, your payment…” You avert your eyes, walking past your room without entering. Maybe it’s best to go look for the staff…right?

“I only take cash,” Toji says, putting his phone away. “And I charge by the half-hour.”

You blink, swallowing nervously because you know you lied earlier on the phone when he told you the amount he typically earns per job.

“…Yeah?”

He chuckles softly, stopping to face you, while you do the same. Up close, he’s breathtaking — his emerald-green eyes, sharply defined jaw, his whole form could have been sculpted from ice.

“That’ll cost you 33,000 yens, ma’am.”

“What?!”

“Unless you’re offering alternative methods of payment. I’m flexible, by nature,” he adds ironically.

Your face falls, and you try to stay calm, knowing you’re in real trouble if he realizes you barely have enough for a can of soda.

“Great, so, I’m going to get paid by a pretty lady, huh?” he whispers, leaning in dangerously close until your back gently hits the wall.

“Can’t you lower the price?” you ask, slightly flustered, forcing a smile to hide the panic clutching at your insides. “Maybe my friends and I can work something out to pay you.”

“But it’s the one who calls who pays,” Toji coos softly, lifting a hand to play with a strand of your hair. “They didn’t ask for anything.”

“But they were saved,” you insist, feeling like a pleading child trying to avoid punishment.

Toji gently shakes his head, a barely-there smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t you have a boyfriend? Maybe he’ll take care of it, then.”

“Yes, but…” You feel a chill at the mention of your boyfriend, whom you haven’t seen since the start of the evening, “we need to find him. He’s probably asleep.”

“Describe him to me, I’ll tell you if he’s around,” Toji murmurs, and his words feel like a subtle threat as you describe him. His brow furrows. “You sure?”

“Yes, why?” Suddenly, your heart starts pounding faster.

What’s with that reaction?

He doesn’t respond, darting off down the hallway without waiting for you to catch up — though you do, anyway. It’s as if each step drives a knife deeper into your chest.

Please, don’t tell me they—

You freeze, stopping in front of a room with a slightly open door, where your boyfriend is indeed present.

But he’s not alone.

Perched above him on a sofa is Nami, straddling him, passionately kissing him. The worst part is seeing them smile at each other without noticing you, your boyfriend’s hands gently stroking his “friend’s” hips.

“They have been here since I came.”

You flutter your eyes closed.

Toji stands silently beside you. “So, he’s cheating on you, or am I wrong?” he murmurs, perhaps also feeling uncomfortable at the sight.

You step back, your chest tight, biting your lip. You hold back tears of both anger and hurt. It stings a thousand times more seeing your partner betray you like this rather than just admitting he no longer loves you, doesn’t it?

You look up at Toji, your eyes likely already red and gleaming.

No, this is definitely anger. You just want to let some curse devour him whole.

“I don’t have the money, sorry,” you admit through clenched teeth, turning on your heel to leave. “Do whatever you want; I don’t care anymore.”

“Hey.” He loosely grabs your wrist, stopping you.

You barely turn back. You’re hurt, yes, but also furious that you didn’t end things with your boyfriend yourself. What a shame, right? It should’ve been you hurting him, not him hurting—

“You know what I see?” Toji takes a few steps toward you, a mocking smile on his lips. He leans in to speak near your ear, his well-built chest brushing against yours. “I see someone filled with rage. You want revenge, don’t you?”

But you’re in no mood to laugh.

He sighs, realizing his attempt at humor fell flat. “Alright, alright. Listen.” He stands in front of you, hands still in his pockets as he leans against the wall. “I’m not the best at comforting people, but… how about a deal?”

You blink.

“We’re both in an… awkward situation, you see. I need to get paid, and you’re on the brink of committing murder.” A smile spreads across his lips.

You still don’t smile.

“So,” he looks down, a bit distracted and uncomfortable despite his smug expression, “I wasn’t totally joking when I said I’d accept other forms of payment. Plus, I think your lil’ guy here needs someone to teach him a less—”

But you cut him off instantly, grabbing the collar of his black T-shirt with both hands and pulling him toward you to crush your lips against his.

Toji, surprised for a second, quickly recovers, gripping your hips to pull you impossibly closer, his lips following yours, attempting to soothe the fury they carry in anger.

He moves backward with you, eyes closed as he pushes open another slightly ajar door to a room, kicking it shut behind him. He pulls back, watching you intently.

Your gaze softens oddly as it meets his. He raises an eyebrow, almost repeating his question from a minute ago, and you nod. “I accept,” you murmur, and his face lights up.

Leaning toward you again, his lips capture yours in another heated kiss that ignites with raw desire. “Fuck. What kind of boyfriend he is, huh?” Toji growls between breathless kisses. “With a girlfriend with lips this sweet, hmm?”

Your feet tangle with his, each step unsure, trying to avoid falling anywhere other than the softness of the couch. You gasp, trying to catch your breath, but everything about Toji makes breathing impossible. “Toji, you—”

“Bet he’s got a small one, doesn’t he?” The blush flooding your face makes him smirk, his scar brushing your jaw as his mouth descends to your pulse. “Knew it.” He nips at your shoulder, his tongue darting out to leave a mark that’ll remind you of him for a good while.

“Toji, please—” you sigh, wincing in pleasure as he presses open-mouthed kisses down your neck, leaving two hickeys in his wake. You slap a hand over your mouth to stifle the sweet sounds spilling out — especially when he brings his knee up between your legs, rubbing it sloppily against your heated core.

“Let ’em out, doll,” he mutters, his hands roaming across your chest slowly before he yanks, popping the buttons off and exposing your bare skin to him. “I want him to hear just how good I make you feel, how loud I can make you scream my name.”

He doesn��t even give you time to protest; he’s already unclasping your bra and kneading your soft breasts, leaving you arching with pleasure from his teasing alone. And if his hands can do this... what about his cock?

He takes his time, pinching and rolling your hardened nipples between his fingers. You moan for real this time, back arching, chest heaving with quickened breaths. “Ahh— Wan’ more,” you whine, the sound going straight to his strained, clothed arousal.

“Am I the one who’s supposed to be saying that?” Toji laughs, enjoying the sight of you squirming and pouting under his teasing, his tongue swirling and rolling over one breast while his fingers toy with the other.

“Toji.”

He lifts his head, pulling his mouth from your breast with a wet pop and tilting his head to the side, that devilish grin still on his lips. “What is it, doll?” He doesn’t even bother wiping away the thin string of saliva connecting his lips to your sensitive nipple.

You writhe beneath him, trying to shimmy off your pants, but the tight space between you two makes the task more challenging than expected.

He chuckles — a rough sound — and grabs your wrists, pinning them above your head, trapping you beneath him. “Getting needy, are we? Looks like you need a hand,” he coos, sliding his thick fingers down your bare chest before slipping the tip of his finger under your waistband.

The touch is electrifying. Both infuriating and warm, as Toji tests your patience.

With his finger still just inside your clothing, he trails it down to your hips before stopping. “Lift your hips for me.” You obey, his low “good girl” making your poor core clench around nothing. His finger is soon joined by the rest of his hand, and he easily slides it down to remove your pants in one smooth motion. “There you go…”

“When I said I wanted more, I meant here,” you mumble, glancing down at the small damp patch in the center of your panties, so exposed for him.

“Naughty, huh?” Toji releases your wrists, kneeling down between your thighs. He grips your hips tightly, his thumbs pressing firmly, leaving slight indents in your skin. “So pretty, so soft,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your inner thighs, kissing and nibbling until you’re gasping.

“You— You’re teasing,” you pant, burying your fingers in his dark hair, tugging lightly when he brushes his nose against your puffy clit through the damp fabric.

“I am,” he admits, laying the flat of his tongue over the wet patch before inhaling. “Smells and tastes so good, doll.” And your cheeks go flush again as he quickly strips your panties off and tosses them onto the couch’s headrest.

“Sh-shut up!”

“You’re adorable when I get dirty with you, but you’re just as dirty, so don’t,” he says, wrapping his sculpted arms around your hips and pulling you against his face. “try to turn the tables,” he finishes, his voice muffled between your drenched folds. “Wonder why that jerk cheated on you,” he adds, lapping at your clit as you let out needy whimpers.

“Shit. Easy, I’m sensitive,” you babble, digging your nails into his shoulder as he starts devouring you with real intent.

“Love those sounds, by the way,” he murmurs, sucking on your sweet bundle of nerves, ignoring the persistent ache in his pants as his cock begs to be freed, desperate to plunge deep inside you.

Your eyelids flutter closed, your teeth sinking into your lower lip, trying to keep Toji’s name from spilling from your mouth as he tightens his grip on you, practically smashing your soaked core against his face but the way his lips close everytime around your clit with slowness is just unbearable.

Sounds of heavy breaths, licks, and wetness fill the room, turning the atmosphere almost sauna-like. Your pulse pounds in your temples, your heartbeat frantic.

“You’re still not loud enough.” And he remedies that quickly, pressing his nose against your clit as he slowly thrusts his tongue inside you, your walls clenching around it with lewd, wet sounds because of how slick you are for him. And now, he’s thrusting his tongue even deeper, humming in approval when you throw your head back, tugging harder on his dark locks.

“Shit! Fuckfuckfuckfuck,” you cry out, toes curling as your nails dig into his skin before scratching it up.

“That’s it,” he purrs, helping you buck your hips against him as you mewl and moan thanks to his tongue. “Let him hear how good ya feel, yeah?” He brings a hand to your clit to rub it gently, then pinches it roughly. He bullies your snug cunt with each deep and precise thrust of his tongue, brushing your sweet spot every time, and you’re sure you’ll die if you don’t come right after.

And he probably knows it, because as if reading your mind, he withdraws his tongue from your twitching insides and licks his lips shamelessly — your glossy juices shining on them.

“Wanna hear how good you feel louder, doll, ’kay?” He brings a finger to your trembling entrance, pressing gently against the delicious barrier just waiting to be crossed. “You’re so close, baby,” he chuckles, eyes dilated with desire. “Hear me out, I’m gonna make you cum, and you’re gonna be a good girl. Understood?” He gently pats your thigh.

You nod, lips trembling from anticipation, eyes half-closed as he inserts his forefinger into you — and now you’re even tighter with his digit replacing his tongue. How would it feel with something bigger? The pad of his finger hits your sensitive g-spot right away.

“Ah!” you whine. The knot in your stomach coils tighter, ready to explode. “Toji, I’m almost cumming, please, just—”

He cuts you off, a low grunt escaping his lips as he crashes his mouth on your clit, treating it like a toy and bullying it over and over until you can’t stop your legs from shaking uncontrollably — as he finger-fucks you and sucks on your oversensitive clit.

“Fuck! Feels s’good, Toji, please,” you moan, your insides throbbing around his finger, while his second finger joins the first, finger-fucking you as you squirm on the couch, feeling the wet patch under your ass marking the mess you’re making.

“Cum, doll, now,” Toji orders, his voice strained, unable to ignore the throbbing in his own pants. His mouth is relentless on your clit, his fingers curling inside you just right, as if coaxing your body to surrender completely.

Right at the edge, you wrap your legs around his neck, sobbing out his name as you cum — hard. Your walls clamp down around his fingers, your body trembling as you release.

Your boyfriend never made you cum this hard, not even close.

You realize you actually squirted when you hear Toji swallowing, his eyes fluttering closed as he drinks every drop, even as your body keeps spasming after he finally pulls his fingers out of you.

When your breathing slows, Toji pulls back from your thighs, looking up to meet your gaze after the powerful orgasm he just brought you to.

“Tell me…” He licks the last traces of you off his chin, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Is that the first time you’ve squirted?” he asks, leaning down to place a tender kiss on your oversensitive clit.

You bite back a whimper, trying to steady your trembling legs. “Y-Yeah,” you confess, swallowing hard, noticing his black shirt dampened with your cum. “I didn’t mean to make that mess, I’m sorry—”

“Why’re you apologizing?” He kisses your inner thigh, soothing your shakiness with soft caresses. “The only one who should be begging for forgiveness is the jerk in the other room,” he mutters in a low, rough voice. The contrast between his tender kisses and harsh words about your boyfriend makes your heart skip a beat. “I bet he’s crying like a lil’ boy,” he chuckles.

You force a smile, though there’s still a slight sting from the betrayal. “He should be, yeah.”

His expression softens. “C’mon, doll, don’t give me that look,” he sighs, rising from his crouched position to remove his pants. “Just forget him, even if it’s hard, hmm?” He ignores the growing bulge in his boxers, leaning down to kiss you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his lips.

You hum, kissing him back slowly, eyes closed. With each kiss, you feel a warmth, a tenderness there that surprises you. Why do his lips feel so gentle, so... caring? A feeling you can’t quite place?

Between kisses, you take soft breaths, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close. He doesn’t resist, his tongue teasing along your soft, warm lips.

“Want to stop?” he murmurs, his voice unexpectedly soft and low.

You flutter your eyes open and shake your head. “I’d like to continue, if you don’t wanna stop,” you mutter back.

His gaze softens more, seeing you beneath him, flushed and vulnerable. “Of course. I don’t think I could stop even if I tried… especially not with…” His gaze drops, his cheeks flushing slightly, “...this.”

You glance down at his painfully hard length pressing against his boxers, the small wet patch testifying to how badly he wants you.

“Mm, sorry,” he grumbles.

But you gently cup his face, pulling him into another kiss as you reach down to slip his boxers off. He helps you free him from his strained confines, and you both share a heated kiss. Toji leans over you, leaving soft kisses along your lips, cheeks, jaw, and down your neck.

The tender moment gradually heats up as impatience grows, your legs tangling with his. When something warm brushes your stomach, you shiver, instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist.

His size… he’s big. His cock is thick and already straining, eager to be buried deep inside you.

“Can you fuck me?” you whisper, blinking up at him with soft, pleading eyes.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Toji chuckles, a low rumble shaking his chest.

He grabs you by the hips, laying you down on the couch to position you as he aligns himself at your entrance. Toji takes his cock in his hand and guides it to you, so big compared to your cute, petite pussy that’s about to take all of him in so well…

When the flushed tip of his cock brushes against your soaked folds, you hold your breath to keep from moaning even before he’s begun. But Toji can be a bastard in his own way — drawing slow, torturous circles around your puffy clit, then sliding down to gather your juices from between your folds, which he spreads apart to make room for him.

“As honest as you,” he scoffs, gently tapping your tight ring of resistance with the tip. He looks down at you, your form much smaller than his — Toji is big all over, from his muscles to his cock, and all he wants is to ruin your smallness.

And this bastard keeps eye contact, teasing the entrance with his slick tip, just to watch you break — your lips parted, eyes slightly squinted, hands weakly gripping him.

“Toji,” you moan weakly, squirming gently. “Please, just more, please.” And your voice is so soft, so velvety, he might have come right then.

Oh God, you’ll be the death of him.

And as if it wasn’t enough, you keep repeating his name in that same tone, making his urge to slip inside you unbearable.

“Fuck, doll, don’t moan my name like that or—” But you wrap your legs tighter around him, pulling his tip to your dripping entrance so that it’s already inside, your gummy, warm walls tightening around him, drawing him in deeper.

“I wanna take it,” you whine softly, bucking your hips forward, your snug cunt swallowing half of him. “Oh—”

“Ah— Shit,” Toji hisses, leaning down to press your small body against his, burying his face in your neck. But the worst part is, he seems to lose control of his body, which thrusts deeper into you on its own, your clingy walls gripping him tightly from the start.

He stretches you too quickly, but it feels so good you wonder if you might be ovulating. “Ah— Oh— Fuck, s’deep, s’big,” you babble, low and cute mumbles, as you curl your toes and roll your eyes back from his size. “Too big, Toji, too big.”

“Shit, shit, shit, shit.” He pushes in even deeper until you’ve taken all of him and his tip brushes your womb.

Without even moving, he nearly came. But he has to hold back. To make you come on his cock, fuck you senseless, and let you scream his name so that the entire manor knows you’re his.

“Mine,” Toji groans, thrusting gently into you once you’ve adjusted, his hips meeting yours perfectly. “So wet f’me.” His breathing becomes ragged, his thoughts consumed by how impossibly tight you are. “And so fuckin’ tight.” He speeds up the pace a little, reveling in the sound of your mewls growing louder. “Gonna make you mine tonight, ’kay?”

In the room, only the squelching sounds and the slap of skin against skin fill the air. Your mind spins, the pleasure so intense and overwhelming that you can barely respond to what Toji says.

You’re reduced to a pile of whimpers, thinking only of TojiTojiTojiToji.

And he knows it, especially as you tighten around him and he lets out a guttural groan. His hips pound into you with more speed and roughness, but it’s still not enough. He wants you to fall apart for him when you cum, fucking your little pussy with his big, big cock.

Such a filthy size kink.

Then he pulls out, grabbing your hips to flip you over onto your stomach, making sure the plush cushions support you properly, and he slams back in, pounding rougher, deeper, and so much better than a second ago.

Now, you feel him at a depth you’ve never reached before, your sweet cunt clinging to him each time he pulls out only to push in just as deep. “Ah! So deep, so deep, Toji,” you sniffle, unable to keep your moans quiet any longer. “Wanna cum, gonna cum with you.” You bury your face between two cushions.

The heat between your two bodies is almost unbearable, small beads of sweat rolling down Toji’s toned chest as he chuckles, half-breathless, leaning over you to sink even deeper.

And you wonder how it’s even possible.

“You take it so well, doll,” he purrs, tightening his grip around your waist as your twitching insides pulse around his cock, right on the edge of making him spill his hot load inside you. But the rhythmic slap of his heavy balls against your clit is enough to keep him from the edge, for now. “You want to be filled up? Say it, baby. I don’t—  No, he can’t hear you,” he chuckles, kissing your neck as the depth makes you see stars through tears of pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine louder, “wanna be full of your cum, please, Toji.” His thick, heavy balls are now the biggest turn-on, so big you just want to drain them to fill yourself up. “I’m close, so close,” you sob, pleading with him.

“Me too, doll, so let’s cum together, yeah?” he chortles, because, God, how small and cute you are. He admires, for a moment, the hickeys covering your skin and the scratches you left on his arms. He’s fucking you like a mad, possessed man.

You sniffle, nodding and writhing to take him fully, but you already have. Your wet, tight, warm cunt swallowing him up, desperate for every inch. He’ll fulfill his mission. Even if he wasn’t paid, he stopped caring about that long ago. Now he just wants youyouyou.

And as your synchronized hip movements, bringing the both of you to the edge, you cum hard again. Your sweet pussy clenches around his length, swallowing and milking him as your shaky legs can’t support you anymore. A cry of pleasure escapes you. Toji shuts his eyes, moaning your name as he empties himself inside you, filling your womb with his thick, sinful load.

Only stolen breaths, the overwhelming scent of sex, and small whimpers remain in the aftermath. Silence falls, all troubles vanish, and the night finally grows peaceful.

You wipe away the dried tear tracks on your cheeks and turn your head slightly to meet Toji’s calm gaze. “What about my shirt?”

“I’ve got a spare; want it?” he offers, not pulling out right away. You simply nod, and he adds with a smirk, “An’ if you’re free tonight, you’re up for a little getaway with me?”

“But Utahime and—”

“They’ll wake up like nothing happened, I promise,” Toji reassures you, and you grin.

“Deal.”

~~~~

Meanwhile, back in the room with Nami and your ex, a 4 grade curse — harmless but just annoying enough — flits around happily. Nami is fast asleep on the floor, but your ex has dark bags under his twitching eyes, having not slept a wink.

Between your cries of pleasure and everything else that went on, he understood that the mysterious man who had come to “rescue” them was thoroughly enjoying everything he’d been hoping to do with you for weeks, despite your refusals — the reason behind your “break” or rather, breakup. The curse, left by Toji on purpose, has a parrot effect: it repeats everything it hears in a loop, driving anyone nearby mad.

“Ah! Shit, Toji! Feels so good!” it shrieks in a piercing voice, buzzing around your ex’s head like a fly.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

a/n: hey everyone :) so okay okay, this fic contains much more smut than i usually write (hope at least it’ll be worth it haha). i still feel bad about having missed kinkoctober but anyway, at least we’re here <3 i’ve struggled a bit with the start of the fic but the smut was (for once lol) quite easy to write. happy reading <33

tags: @ssetsuka @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobeenhappy-blog @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @v31v3t @wawuwe @cybersomniq

@sanemistar @monokaix

[queerdiazs]

35 days since 911 season 7 concluded and people are arguing over the maturity of buck’s loft

[deadsetobsessions]

He could overlook a lot of things, but this was getting ridiculous. You’d think seasoned vigilantes would have better excuses prepared, but Danny had caught that flash of panic that crossed Tim’s face as Danny came face to face with Tim dragging an unconscious Steph to her designated room in the manor.

“Uh.”

“Danny! Uh, Stephanie brained herself- uh, sliding down the bannisters and- pleasedon’ttellBruce.”

Danny blinks, staring at Tim and then very pointedly, very slowly, turned his head back towards the direction he came from: the main hall… where the bannisters were. He wonders what vigilante hijinks they were trying to hide from B this time.

Tim coughs, trying to inch Stephanie away. “Uh. She was doing… cartwheels?”

Danny let his eyes slowly take in the bruises that were clearly not from “cartwheeling in the mansion” on the both of them. There’s a huge bandaged cut on Steph’s forearm and a giant bruise on the edge of Tim’s jaw. Tim’s face twitches nervously, not that anyone else would have noticed- except Danny has enhanced ghost senses and could feel the panic coming off of his adopted brother.

“You know…” Shit, what does he do? Not knowing would be so much easier if these idiots gave him good excuses! “I don’t think I want to know what you two have been up to… but should I be worried for your, uh, physical health?”

“Nope!”

“… Okay.” He says. Tim opens his mouth to make further excuses but Danny adds quickly, “But don’t tell me, because if Bruce asks, I want plausible deniability.”

Cartwheels, Danny’s ghostly ass. Luckily, this show of doubt reaffirms Tim’s belief that Danny believes them all of the other times. Danny grins inwardly, planning capitalizing on the guilt that flashed over Tim’s face.

“Deal.”

“Want help?” The halfa points at Steph, who’s still being dragged over the carpet by a noodle armed Tim. Danny knows Tim’s strong, he’s a vigilante, but it’s funny watching him pretend to struggle.

“Please. I’m so tired right now.” He looks it too. Danny’s brows furrow with genuine concern when he takes in Tim’s drowned raccoon look. He picks up Steph, firmly removing her from Tim’s suddenly weak grip. Being careful to avoid her injuries, Danny nods at the door to her room. Tim cracks it open and does a little showy gesture towards the inside.

“C’mon, we’ll tuck her in and then I’ll tuck you in.”

“What, you don’t have to do that.”

“If you don’t let me tuck you in and make sure you sleep, I’ll tell Alfred who really accidentally poured boiling hot coffee on his azaleas last week. And I’ll sic Dick on you and tell him you haven’t been sleeping enough.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” Tim grumbles. “But fine. It’s really not my fault I’m this tired. A missing spleen is hard to handle, you know.”

“Yeah, missing an organ sucks,” Danny says, shit eating grin hidden long enough to catch the contemplative bloodhound look that passes over Tim’s face.

“Which- uh, which one of your organs is missing?”

“Liver.” Danny says, remembering the flashes of pain. He tilts his head away to hide the grin at Tim’s panicked face.

When he tucks Tim in, he pretends to believe Tim’s sleeping act and left his room while mumbling about the Wayne’s clumsiness and bruises and stocking up on bruise cream. He couldn’t even enjoy Tim’s floundering, this time, worried as he is.

——

“Brother.” Danny half turns his head, just to beam a sunny smile at Cass. He signs an exuberant hello. The halfa hangs up his coat as he addresses his adopted sister.

“Cass! What’s up?”

“Dinner.” She smiles back, signing that Alfred wanted them to the dinning room post haste. The main dining room, because rich people were fruit loops and Batman is totally included. Cassandra looks down and gasps.

What…?

Oh. Fuck. Danny glances down. He genuinely forgot about that.

“Huh.”

“Okay?” Suddenly, Cass is right next to him, hand reached out and hovering over the actual knife Danny forgot was sticking out of him. At least it’s where his liver should be, so he won’t have to pretend.

“Oh. Yeah, I’m good. Don’t have a liver.” Danny decides on the spot that he’s not gonna mess with Cass. She smiled the same as him. “Got mugged on the way back but I think they said I could keep the knife, right?”

“Danny.” She’s frowning at him. He feels like he just kicked tiny Cujo. But he doesn’t feel bad enough to blurt everything out.

“Here. You can have it if you want?” Danny casually pulls out the knife and holds the wound together with his bare hands. Cass looks more alarmed. She bodily picks up Danny and starts running.

“Woah!”

Cass throws him at Alfred, gently.

“Miss Cassandra! Why, I never-!” Alfred pauses in surprise.

“Uh. Wow, Cass. You’re really strong.” Danny pipes up, hand still over his gushing wound.

She ignores him, pointing at Danny and telling Alfred, “Hurt. Got mugged. Dumb.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault Gothamites are ready to jump people at any moment. Besides, it’s daytime. It’s not like the vigilante furries are out to save my butt. I think I did really well coming back safe, you know?”

“Hurt. Forgot the knife. Was in him.”

“Master Danny!”

Danny pouts. He also knows there’s a discreet camera in the corners of the sitting room, so he’s definitely hoping he could phase into the cave when Barbara eventually tells the group that he called them “vigilante furries.”

Alfred clucks his tongue and set to work patching him up. Danny tries not to bask in the careful way Alfred tended to his wounds. It reminds him too much of Jazz, if Jazz was British and a man with greying hair.

But because they were watching him and he was watching them in return, Danny noticed the moment Alfred’s hands stalled and Cass’ gaze got intense. What now…?

Oh, fuck, his vivisection scar. Oops. Danny smiled, channeling Dani (his lovely clone sister) at her most innocent.

Cass smiled back, just as sunnily, fists tightening at her side in repressed fury.

——

“Cass? Why’d you call us?”

“Yeah, baby bat. I got a couple o’ smugglers to talk to.”

Cass paces.

“What is it, Cassandra?” Damian tuts impatiently.

“Danny. Has… scars. Autopsy. But was struggling. When cut.”

“What.”

“A vivisection, Master Jason.” Alfred’s voice was crisp and eerily cold. His hands are folded, rage only held back by his sheer will and a well practiced sense of propriety.

“We find. Who hurt him,” Cass snarls. “We. End.”

Jason’s eyes glint green, hands going to his guns. “Fine. By. Me.”

“It does tie in with the dead comment. I wonder what happened to him.” Tim clacks away at the bat computer, furiously looking into the matter already. Bruce has taken to prowling, stressed out at the prospect of one more of his children- not a vigilante at that- getting hurt the way Jason had. Worse, even. A vivisection. He was alive, dissected. Aware enough to struggle. Dick looked like he was torn about hunting down and lunging at whoever hurt Danny to rip their throats out with his bare teeth versus the urge to go back up to the manor and wrap Danny in bubble wrap.

In the corner, Danny was having a quiet breakdown because he came here to watch them react to vigilante furries, not offering to murder the people who vivisected him. What the fuck?? He ran his hands through his hair, invisible.

——

“Oh, by the way, we should consider more daytime shifts.”

“Why?” Spoiler asks Barbara.

“Danny got mugged. And called us the nightly furries.”

“The fuckin’ what-?” Jason chokes out, laughing. Bruce stops his pacing, body language becoming slightly offended.

Danny muffles a laugh only Alfred would have heard.

[luveline]

You mentioned in one post that bombshell!reader was furious with the team for not helping Reid with his addiction (as she should be)…. Would you maybe write about her helping him thru withdrawal or thru the cravings that follow? Maybe subtly at first, then just making sure he knew he wasn’t alone? Just some tender moments where Spencer starts to realize she actually cares about him, even if he doesn’t believe her flirting yet.

-🌕

I love every single thing you write, even for fandoms I’m not even in. You’re amazing!!

thank you for requesting my sweetheart!!! I really hope this is what you wanted, love you <3 fem!reader

cw past drug abuse

“Hi, Spencer Reid.” 

You perch on the edge of his desk with no further introduction. You’ve changed perfumes, to his immediate recognition, the rich smell of your usual parfum swapped for a less consuming scent. He detects apple blossom, and rose, the smallest hint of jasmine, a contrast to your usual vanilla and peony. The human brain can remember 50,000 scents, and Spencer can remember all of yours. Or, he could. 

“You’re not saying hi anymore?” 

“Hi, Y/N.” 

“Hi. It’s nice to see you.” You put your hand on his. Spencer isn’t sure you’ve ever touched his hand before, he’s never really let you, but he doesn’t move away. A huge winding of tension between his shoulders begins to unspool. “It’s really nice to see you, babe. I’ve missed you tons and tons.” 

He looks up tentatively. “You have?” 

“I have. I haven’t really been invited, today. I’m just here to see you.” 

“Why?” Spencer asks. 

You tighten your fingers on his hand. “Missed you. Thought maybe we should, like…” And that’s unusual, for you to use filler words, Spencer doesn’t know what to think of it. “Well, I have something to say to you, and it’s going to either sound reassuring or ridiculous.” 

“Okay.” 

You give him a withering look. “Don’t make it any easier for me.” 

He laughs. The sound alone fosters your smile. “Sorry,” he says softly, “I doubt it’ll be ridiculous.” 

“Spencer Reid, we are friends. We are. But we never do anything outside of work, so I was thinking you could come over tonight and we’d make dinner and watch TV and stuff.” 

“And stuff.” 

“I’m a bit nervous,” you confess, looking down at your lap, then quickly back up into his face, “I’m worried you won’t want to.” 

You’re kind to avoid saying what he’s sure you’re thinking; you’re worried he won’t want to spend the night with you, and instead will look down the long barrel of a small needle. Or, he thinks that’s what you’re thinking. He does it to everyone. 

“What do you want to make for dinner?” he asks. 

“What are you enjoying lately?” 

“I… I don’t know. I’m not really eating.”

“Cereal?” 

“Yes,” he laughs. “Lots of cereal.” 

You tap the wheel of his chair with your heel. You’re dressed as though you aren’t working, wearing a sweet dark dress with a starched collar and baby sleeves, stockings, and a necklace at your neck that glows with a small white crystal. You look amazing. It never makes any sense to Spencer, why you’d taken an interest in him, and why you bother now. He knows he’s hard to care for. He knows he’s making it worse. 

You look up and down his face. You must see the purple half circles beneath his eyes, the crack at the corner of his mouth, the cut he can’t stop picking on his cheek. Every time it scabs, he opens it again. One second he’s sitting there and the next he’s got blood under his fingernail. 

“Hug?” you ask hopefully. 

He goes to stand. You move in too fast and wrap your arms around him, leg slotting between his, leaning over his shoulders with a distinct sense of protectiveness. You squeeze him, a little sigh escaping you that sounds loud so close to his ear. 

“How has it been this week?” you ask quietly. 

“It’s fine.” He cups your back in his arm carefully. The other wraps tight around the small of it. He soaks you up, scared you’re gonna pull away any second. 

“How are you feeling about it? Do you need any extra help?” 

He cringes. “No,” he says. “It’s really fine.” 

“When you texted me, about the cravings? What are they like today?” 

He wishes he could breathe in the smell of your perfume and your skin and tell you they’re all better now. It would make sense; there isn’t much in his life that hasn’t been made better by your attention. He’d struggle to do this without you. You’re his only friend who actually cared enough to say the problem out loud, but you’re just a woman, you can’t work the sort of magic necessary to kick this for him. 

“Spencer?” You pull away, nudging his cheek with the back of your finger. 

“They’re okay. I’m not gonna do anything.” 

“Good, honey. I’m proud of you. I know how hard this is.” 

He bites the inside of his lip, surprised at your caring. He shouldn’t be.

“What are you two whispering about?”

You and Spencer have different reactions to Emily’s sudden question. He flinches like he’s been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you, still vaguely pissed with everyone for not telling you Spencer was struggling and not afraid to show it, keep your eyes trained on his face. 

“Nothing,” Spencer says. 

You turn to her with a small smile. You still like her, Spencer knows. Secretly, he’s pleased you’re angry for him. It’s nice to have someone so obviously on his side. “We’re just deciding what to get for dinner.” 

“Oh, nice. Date night?” she teases. 

You press your cheek to his forehead. “Date night,” you agree, your hand unmissable where it bunches in his sweater near his heart. 

[aggieslittlebunny]

PLEASE TALK TO ME

MEN/MINORS DNI!!!

Pairing: University Student!Reader x Older!gf!Wanda

Summary: Reader’s life has always been hard, but as of late, it seems to be extremely harder for you. Your girlfriend, Wanda, is always ready to support you, but you push her away as your condition is getting worse and things escalate.

Trigger Warnings/Tags: angst, hurt/comfort, contain heavy/sensitive topic, mental illness, depressed reader, anxious reader, negative self-talk, self-harm, suicide attempt, suffering reader, reader have suspicion of being an ADHDer (but doesn’t get diagnosed). You have been warned, so don’t read this fic if there is a chance that you might get triggered, no matter how small the chance is. Please never hesitate to reach out to someone close to you or any professional help if you’re struggling mentally. You matter <3

Author Note: English is not my first language, so I apologize in advance for any gramatical and spelling errors ^^

Word Count: 3.5k

Life has been hard for you lately, much harder than usual. You can’t exactly tell since when this has happened and the reasons behind it. Being a university student has always been a challenge. To be completely honest, despite getting A- for most of the courses you had, you always feel like you barely survived. Other students appear to be able to understand whatever topic the professors deliver right away. Besides that, it seems very easy for them to raise their hands and ask questions. Meanwhile, you? You can barely sit through three and a half hours of each lecture, let alone be focused throughout the whole thing. Being glued to the classroom chair for that long feels so horrible. Oftentimes, you think of excusing yourself to the restroom, but you are way too anxious to do that. All you can do is shift yourself in your seat every once in a while, but you can’t do that too much either because then people will notice how fidgety you are. You will attract unwanted attention.

Speaking of unwanted attention and being anxious, those are why it’s hard for you to ask questions during lectures. You don’t like having people’s eyes on you. You also keep asking yourself “what if my question is strange?” or “what if my question doesn’t make sense?” right after your brain makes a question, which gets you stuck in your head and prevents you from being an active student. That doesn’t mean you never ask questions. You pushed yourself to do that sometimes. You need to keep up with other students after all. But you truly despise it. You don’t like the feeling of your hands becoming clammy and how your heart beats very fast, making you breathe heavily.

Before you ask a question, you need to come up with one. That is also a problem for you since you believe that you have a short attention span. Your brain loves to wander, even when all you want to do is focus. You can pay attention to the professors’ voice and write down the important information you want to keep, but before you realize it, your train of thoughts are somewhere else and your hand has already stopped writing minutes ago. You have a lot of questions in your head, but you are afraid that they actually have been discussed and you just weren’t paying attention. You believe that you will look or sound ridiculous.

Your older girlfriend, Wanda, is aware of your struggles, but you haven't told her everything. You just let her know some bits without much detail. She is the most supportive girlfriend you have ever had. Well, she is your first girlfriend so that statement can’t be wrong. Seriously though, she is very supportive and sweet to you. You love her so much and will do anything to make her stay, even if that means hiding most of your problems and keeping your negative feelings bottled up.

You have been doing such a good job hiding how you feel in front of Wanda— and everyone. Thinking of people worried about you filled you with guilt, so you tend to just put on a happy or at least neutral look on your face. These past few weeks, your mask slowly cracks. Wanda started to notice the empty look in your eyes (no matter what expression you are making), the bag under your eyes, the forced cheerful tone escaping your lips, how you space out more frequently, how you seem to avoid people including her, and other behavior changes from you. Everytime she asks how you are doing, you will simply tell her that you’re fine, maybe a little tired. She knows you are not, but she doesn’t want to put pressure onto you and keep praying that you will open up soon. She keeps waiting and waiting. A couple of months passed and you seem to be getting worse. This makes her persuade you harder to tell her what is going on, but no matter how hard she tries, you never tell her the truth. You keep denying her that you are behaving really off and telling her that she is just overthinking.

“Sweetheart, you know that you can talk to me about anything at any time, right?” Wanda randomly blurts. Both of you are currently sitting on a bench in a park, eating ice cream while watching people minding their own business.

“Mmhm.”  you replied shortly with a faint positive tone. You can feel her gaze pointed at you, but you decide to keep your eyes watching a little girl laughing with her parents as they play catch with their dog.

“I’m sorry to keep bringing this up. I can’t help but be worried about you, baby. The more time passes, the more I notice how you seem to not be doing well. You don’t need to pretend that you’re okay in front of me. I want you to rely on me. I might not be able to solve all of your problems, but I will always be with you. We can face this together if you let me. You’re not alone. Please tell me what is going on.” one of her hands reaches yours. You look at Wanda the moment she holds your hand.

“I’m alright, seriously. Maybe I'm just a little bit tired. The finals week is getting near and I need to be ready for that. I don’t want to fall behind. Thank you for caring about me, but can we not talk about this right now? Maybe we can talk about it later, just… not now.”

“Okay, baby. I understand. Do you want to grab some lunch after this?”

A day after that, you suddenly stopped meeting Wanda. Most calls from her are ignored by you. The ones you picked up never last longer than five minutes. You told her that you need to focus on your study, but Wanda doubts that. She knows from one of your friends that you have been skipping a bunch of lectures. She considered visiting you in your dorm, but you always refused whenever she asked for your permission. You gave her a hard no right away, every single time, no consideration. She tries to respect your decision, but it is getting harder each day for her, and unbeknownst to her, for you either. You are getting worse and it is actually out of her expectation and imagination.

Now it has been three weeks since you stopped meeting Wanda. She always waits for any message from you that appears to be sent to her less and less as the days pass. Today she hasn’t received any. She is beyond worried, but she also knows that you are having finals this week. The semester ends soon and she hopes she will be able to hang out with you again since you will have lots of free time for a month. She gave you some space since she thought that is what you need. She tries to act chill about it, but each buzz coming from her phone never fails to make her jolt. She will check her phone right away and gets disappointed when she doesn’t see your name (or ‘my baby’ since she set your contact as that) on her notifications.

She heard from you on Friday. It is almost midnight, but she can’t sleep unless she does her daily reading before bed. Therefore, there she is. She is sitting comfortably in her bed, her back against the headboard, and there is an open book in her hand. It was peaceful until her phone buzzed. When she takes a glance at her phone, she swiftly picks it up and opens a message from you. You sent her a link. That link leads her to a letter written by you. Her eyes scan each word carefully. You are thanking her for being a wonderful girlfriend. As Wanda keeps reading, she hopes that you are just giving her a sweet letter of appreciation. Deep inside, she fears that you are breaking up with her, but she tries not to judge quickly since it is a pretty lengthy letter and she barely reaches the quarter part of it.

“When you are reading this, I have done something stupid.”

Wanda freezes for a solid ten seconds. After that, she stands up and runs to her car. She forgets her car keys so she sprints back in to grab it and then she leaves her house with her car. She left her house unlocked and she is still wearing her pajamas, but those are none of her concern right now. Her head chanting your name as well as prayers that you are safe. As she drives, she continues reading your letter. Her eyes moved from her screen to the road repeatedly until she finished reading it. After that she completely focuses on the road and might have crossed the speed limit several times. She reached your dorm room in twenty minutes, thanks to one of your close friends that is still awake and messaged her the number of your room.

She expected that she would have to break the door open, but she was wrong. The door isn’t locked. She knows right away that it was left like that by you on purpose. You told her so many times that you always lock your door twice because you’re afraid of the possibility that a stranger can get into your room easily. The sound of her footsteps echoes in your room. Your room is dark, but there is light from the sideroad lamp slipping through your window. She saw the lump of your body covered with your favorite blanket in your bed and she approached you in a hurry. She cradles your face in her palms. She noticed your irregular breathing and that you are breathing through your mouth. She also quickly noticed that there is a kind of chemical smell coming out from your mouth. Her hand reached the phone in her pocket and she dialed the emergency number, asking for an ambulance. It will take around ten minutes for it to arrive.

Just when she is about to wake you up, she accidentally knocks over a mug on your bedside table. It is now on the ground and the liquid inside it seeps into the rug. At first she thought it was tea, but after a quick sniff into the air, she realized that it is not tea or at least not just tea. The smell is exactly the same as what is coming out from your mouth. She checked the water bottle that was sitting beside the mug. She remembers how you brought the bottle with you all the time. It has such a bold pink color and there is a picture of a rabbit saying ‘life is beautiful’ on it. She opens the bottle and at first glance it looks like it’s filled with normal water, but the somewhat gray look as well as the strong chemical scent said otherwise. Shortly after that, her eyes spot a little trash can near the bed. She noticed some tissues covered with blood as well as an empty bug spray can.

“Shit.” she thought.

“Baby? Baby, wake up. Please. Can you hear me?” Wanda tries to wake you up with panic in her voice. She pulls your blanket away to take a look at your arms and wrists. She found nothing. But a second later she saw some dried blood prints on your shorts, the left thigh part to be exact. After that, she taps your cheek and shakes your body firmly which elicits a groan from you.

“I’m sorry, Wanda. I’m so sorry. Please don’t be mad at me.” You replied faintly. It is clear that you are slipping in and out of consciousness.

“Shh, you will be okay. There is nothing to be sorry for; I’m not mad at you. I love you very much. Please don’t go back to sleep. Stay with me, sweetie. I’ll get you to the hospital. The ambulance is coming.”

The paramedic comes soon after that and you are brought to the hospital. The emergency room is very cold and quiet. Maybe not that quiet since you hear people’s voices, but everything is so faint and blurry to you. After you get treated, Wanda is allowed to see you. She sees you smiling a little and she smiles back as she walks closer towards you.

You start telling her what has been happening in your life. Wanda sits on the hospital bed that you occupied, holding your hand as she hears your story. You tell her that you always feel so different throughout your life. You always feel like you are always in a race to keep up with other people around you. It gets harder and harder, especially with the fact that you’re a student in a top university. You tell her that since you get into university, your life is way messier than before. Keeping up with other students almost feels impossible. You try and try and try, but it is never enough. You are never satisfied and you feel like you are the most stupid student compared to other students in the same year as you.

Your grades might say different things, but there are endless efforts to get those grades. You are a procrastinator, but it is not because you don’t want to do your responsibility. Most of the time, you just can’t. Your body and brain won’t function the way you want them to and you despise that part of yourself because that makes you feel lazy. But you also barely get any sleep to finish your assignments, prepare your part in group assignments, and sometimes you cover your friend’s part or any extra part. That caused you to sleep like three hours a day. Some days four, the other days two, and this rarely happens but you can go two or three days without sleep. You have been living with this terrible sleep schedule for three years now. All you want is to be like other students. You’re scared of falling behind. You know you will not survive by yourself so you want your classmates to be able to rely on you on group projects. You want as many classmates as possible to like you. 

“I’m so tired, Wanda. I’m exhausted.” You sighed painfully.

You proceed to tell her how your head was slowly becoming evil to you. It’s never peaceful in your head. Different things are piling up inside it. They’re messy piles and your brain seems to insist on unpacking them all at the same time. You can feel the chaos within your body and mind. The chaos streaming in your blood makes you want to curl up and disappear. Then it’s getting worse. Your brain started telling you various negative things:

“No one likes you.”

“Your friends hate you. They talk about you behind your back”

“You’re a terrible person.”

You began to believe those things. Watching your friends surrounding a table in the cafeteria leads you to think that they were talking shitty stuff about you. Especially after a friend of yours noticed that you were crying in front of the class but said nothing. After that, you started to spend lots of time hiding in the restroom stall to cry, usually before class. You were terrified by people around you and your own brain. Then you seek out some help. You reached out to a counselor provided by your university. You confessed to her about the problems you have been having as of late, and talking helps, but not much. Your brain is still very mean to you. At some point you really want to know what is going on with you. You desperately want an explanation on why you feel so different compared to others since you were a little kid. You dived into the internet, researching stuff based on your struggles. You are very sure that you’re suffering from depression, maybe even anxiety. But you believe that there is something more. After weeks of researching, you have a suspicion that you might have ADHD. You read some books, watched lots of videos, and asked some of your online friends who are ADHDer. 

“I can never be sure until I get a proper diagnosis and I can’t get a diagnosis from a counselor. But if my counselor can at least agree with my suspicion, I assume it will be easier for me to get actual diagnosis. Therefore I talked about it with her, my counselor. I didn’t explicitly say to her that I think I might have ADHD. Instead, I tell her my life experiences that relate to the symptoms. At one point she cut my story.”

“Aren’t you just lazy?” the words your counselor threw at you echo in your brain.

“Am I just lazy, Wanda? Please tell me it’s not true. I’m trying. I always try! Please believe me! I-”

Wanda instantly cups your face in her hands and rests her forehead against yours.

“Breathe, sweetie. Deep breath. I’m with you. You’re not lazy. Not at all. You have been trying your best. I know it, baby.”

“It’s so painful! It feels like she throws away my self-image I’ve been building all my life. The sleepless nights… The notes covering my dorm walls…” you take a sharp breath and continue, “Even as a kid, my parents pushed me so hard to study. In elementary school, they will make me study until midnight during test weeks. In middle school I fell behind, but managed to push myself so that I could get into a good highschool. I push myself all the time to keep up with everybody else. Maybe I also do it so my parents will keep loving me. To them, my grades define who I am. They expect so much from me. It hurts…” you cry at the last two words and Wanda embraces you in a warm hug.

“The day when my counselor said that, I walked back to my dorm room with tears streaming down my face. I sobbed as I walked, maybe some strangers saw me in that state, but I was in too much agony to care. I stopped seeking out help from anyone. I just want to know why I am the way I am. But I can’t stand it anymore. I can’t stand feeling so different than anyone else. I also throw that suspicion away. I can’t face it since then.” you pushed Wanda away gently to look at her face. You can see tenderness in her eyes. How can you be so lucky to have her?

“I guess that pushed me further to this point. I didn’t get any help. I pushed myself even harder. I carried way much more stuff than I can handle. Last week, I constantly had my nose bleeding. That keeps going for like five days. I hurt myself too several times. It’s like I’m literally sacrificing my blood, sweat, and tears to survive. Then my head started telling me harmful stuff and questioning my worth of living.”

“Why are you still trying?”

“Why are you here?���

“Why don’t you just kill yourself?”

“You should just kill yourself.”

“You should kill your family members too. They are in danger and you need to end their lives to save them.”

“I’m terrified, Wanda! I’m scared! I’m scared of myself so much. You have no idea. That’s why I ended up here. I thought this was the only way to fix this. I’m so sorry…”

“Baby…” a tear runs down Wanda’s cheek and she leaves a kiss on top of your head before speaking up again, “Thank you for telling me this, sweetheart. I know there is still so much left unsaid and I know you’re telling me as much as you can at this moment. Thank you for trusting me with this. I’m not mad at you. I’m not angry. I’m not disappointed. But may I know why you kept telling me that you’re fine on those days?”

“I’m afraid that I will become a burden and you will think that I’m too much and…”

“I will leave you?” you nod.

“I'm sorry, Wanda. I truly am sorry.”

“Stop that, baby. It’s fine now. You will get proper help after this and I will always support you. I’m not going anywhere. Let’s take it slow, yeah?” you nod once again and pull her into a tight hug.

“Thank you.”

Wanda’s hand begins to stroke your hair lovingly, “Please never hesitate to tell me anything in the future. You can stay at my place when your head is being very mean to you. In fact you can stay at my place anytime. I won’t mind seeing your little cute face every morning, I would love that. We can work on your sleep schedule together and maybe find a study method that suits you. I know it’s not easy and you’ve been struggling very hard by yourself, but you don’t have to do that anymore. You don’t have to be by yourself. You have me. I got you, sweetheart.”

“What did I do to deserve you, Wands?”

“You don’t need to do anything to be loved by me. I love you, more than you know.”

“I love you too. I love you to the moon and back.”

[lycandrophile]

conversations i’ve had with my mom this week about top surgery that will make my brain melt if i try too hard to make sense of them:

i was talking to her about how i might have to extend my medical leave because i probably won’t be ready to work at 4 weeks. she told me she didn’t expect my recovery to take this long. this is the same woman who, before i got top surgery, told me horror stories about someone she knew who had complications for months after having a mastectomy. was she just making shit up? was she lecturing me about things she was actively still in denial about? i can’t even begin to guess.

i mentioned to her that i’ve been posting about my experiences with recovery and she seemed…offended? by the idea that i was talking about it publicly. i shouldn’t be surprised because she’s the one who once told me the online trans community is “cult-like” and that she thought i was only getting top surgery because the trans people in my computer convinced me. the thing is, she’s also constantly asking me how my recovery timeline compares to other people so i…don’t know how she expects me to get that information if she also thinks talking to people about my recovery is bad.

she was asking me about how my incisions are healing and she told me to describe how they look to her…but “not anything that’ll make me cry”. do i know what she meant by that? nope! i can only assume the right move was to not describe anything too in-depth, even if it meant not including important details because they might upset her. priorities, am i right?

she asked me if, having been through the worst of recovery and knowing what it’s like, i would still make the same choice to get top surgery. obviously i said i would. she then proceeded to keep saying things like “really? are you sure? even after all this? you know you don’t have to say that, right?” as if it was completely impossible to believe i don’t regret this. why did she ask if she didn’t really want to hear the answer? god only knows.

we found out how much my insurance paid for the part of my surgery costs that were covered and it turns out they paid way more than any of the estimates i was given. my mom kept saying “that’s a lot of money you know” over and over again, as if i didn’t know that an amount of money high enough to buy a small house is a lot. i think she was trying to make some kind of point. what point? idk man.

0/10 totally incomprehensible interactions. i don’t even know what to make of them. i think now that the surgery is done and she can’t fight it anymore, she’s gone from being overtly ridiculous about it to just bringing the absolute weirdest vibes to every conversation about it.

[fabuloustrash05]

Why I Love 2012 Raphael

A TMNT 2012 Character Appreciation/Character Analysis Post

If you know me or follow me here or on Instagram then you know that my favorite Ninja Turtle is Raphael. More specifically, Raphael from the TMNT 2012 series. Nowadays, this version of Raph gets a lot of unfair hate from fans (new and old), which I find to be ridiculous. So I decided to show this turtle in red some love and express my reasons as to why I love 2012 Raphael. 

To start, I wanna give some love and appreciation to Raphael’s voice actor, Sean Astin. His voice was perfect for the role. I feel so many other Raphael voices try too hard to make him sound manly and more of a giant muscular brute, often forgetting that he is just a teenage boy. Sean does a good job making Raph sound tough when needed, but still making him sound like he is a teenager. He does a great job balancing Raph’s rude attitude but also his gentle and sweet side as well. Also he nailed those girlish screams! XD I feel voice actors nowadays don’t get a lot of recognition, so I wanted to show my appreciation here.

The biggest thing I love about Raphael is his development in the show. I’d argue he had the most/best character development among the four Turtles. We all know how he is in the beginning of the series, being rude, hotheaded, constantly picking fights with Leo and other characters. The show makes it obvious that Raph in S1-2 is scared of his own emotions and feelings, the only time he truly opens up and expresses himself is when he talks to his pet turtle, Spike. The best way I can describe Raph’s character is that he is the “tough guy with a heart of gold” trope. I believe one of the show’s producers, Ciro Neili, even confirmed that was their intention when creating Raph’s character for the show. Raph is a brute, a hothead, but deep down he's a big softie. A lot of Raphael haters seem to forget or ignore that fact about his character. Yes, he is mostly known throughout the fandom to be the hothead, he is the muscle of the group, but he is also the protector. Raph knows that, so if he comes off as weak, then he loses that title. Deep down Raph, and the people around him, know that he is a big softy who loves and cares for others, but he keeps up this tough guy persona in order to protect and seem strong for the ones he loves most. 

As the series goes on Raph learns to open up to others, he grows to respect Leo as a leader and seems to control his temper way more by Season 5. On rewatch I notice in S4-5, Raph only ever gets mad for valid/understandable reasons, mainly when someone is hurting/threatening his loved ones. How did this happen? I believe Raph’s development started when he lost Spike in season 2.

Slash and Destroy is one of my favorite Raphael focused episodes and I will stand by and say that this episode was the beginning of Raph’s character development. In the episode, Raph’s pet Spike gets mutated and becomes Slash, targeting and attacking Raph’s brothers. As a reminder, up to this episode, the only person Raph could express his true feelings to was Spike. Everytime Raph ranted negatively about his brothers, Spike was there to hear it, causing him to have a negative view on Leo, Donnie and Mikey. Slash shows pure hatred for the brothers, especially Leo. After brutally attacking Leo, Slash smiles and says “Been looking forward to that for a long time.” The mutagen warped Slash’s brain, making him go crazy and viciously attack Raph’s brothers because like Raph said earlier in the episode, he doesn’t need them. Raph gets a visual representation of his words and negative thoughts towards his brothers in action through Slash. Slash’s purpose in this episode is to represent all of Raph’s anger and frustration he’s had for his brothers over the years based on what he told Spike. By the end of the episode, Splinter comforts Raph and suggests that he should “focus on the friends he has in the present''. For all of Raph’s life, he trusted and relied only on Spike, but Spike is now gone, so Splinter indirectly advises his son that it is time to trust and rely on others, to not bottle up his emotions, advice that Raph takes.

As the show goes on, Raph slowly progresses, opening up more to others, which will eventually lead to him having two great things in his life come season 4 (but we’ll talk about them later).

Casey was another part of Raph’s development that some fans don’t notice. Donnie makes a comment that Casey being around is like having two Raphaels. While Raph and Casey become best friends because of their similar personalities, Casey is also a reflection of Raph. When around Casey, Raph has to be the level headed one, the responsible one. He criticizes Casey for not being stealthy like a ninja in the S2 episode Newtralized and not planning ahead in the fight (remind you of anyone? *cough* Leo *cough*). When they first meet, Raph gives Casey the same exact advice his father gave him earlier in the episode that “anger is a dangerous alley”. Casey is a more reckless version of Raph, something Raph unknowingly sees and tries to help and protect, he has to be the mature one in their dynamic, opposite to when he’s teamed up with Leo and gets to be the rebel again. It’s like he’s getting a taste of his own medicine.

Not to mention, Raph met Casey after he lost Spike, having a new friend he can rely on. Later on in the episode Newtralized, after meeting Slash, Casey says, “Is that your old pet turtle? The one who got mutated?”. This little piece of dialogue is so important to Raph’s character but it sadly goes over a lot of people’s heads. It indirectly tells us that off screen, Raph has opened up to Casey and told him about a traumatic and hard time in his life. Progress that we will continue to see as the show goes on.

Season 3 Raph at the Farmhouse was the peak of his character development! Raphael took charge in that arc. He became the temporary leader of the group when Leo was out of commission due to his injury. After losing their father (reminder they thought Splinter was dead by this point), being chased out of their home and the city, and losing to one of their greatest enemies, Raph stepped up. He took care of everyone. He made sure that Donnie, Mikey and even April kept up with their ninja training, he was the one who is always prepared during an attack or new threat (ex: when he and the others were trapped in the geyser in the episode Eyes of The Chimera and he was the only one with a grappling hook to help them get out, criticizing his brothers for not being true ninjas and how they should be prepared for anything). April even states that for months, Raph stayed by Leo’s side when he was in his coma, refusing to eat or sleep, and when Leo did wake up, Raph was the first to help him get back on his feet, taking him out on walks to help get his strength back. 

Raph not only was there for Leo, but he was there for Donnie. After Donnie gets heartbroken when April rejects his music box gift in the episode A Foot Too Big, Mikey is sympathetic, but Raph hits Donnie with a much needed reality check. He tells him bluntly “It's never gonna happen, Donnie. We're mutants. She's a girl. You're a giant talking turtle. The sooner you get used to it, the better.” Even with that though, Raph acknowledges his brother’s broken heart and quickly tries to cheer Donnie up and get his mind off April with some training. Then later in the episode, when Donnie expresses how uncomfortable he is with Big Foot’s romantic gestures, Raph once again nails it perfectly by telling him, “Now you know how April feels.” Some may say what Raph said was mean and how he should’ve put him down more gently, but in truth this was something Donnie needed to hear and no one else was gonna do it any time soon! Someone had to open his eyes to the situation, and Raph was the perfect candidate. 

The final brother dynamic in the farmhouse arc with Mikey and Raph was little when it came to screen time, but Raph still shows how much he loves his little brother after Mikey gets captured by the Punk Frogs in the episode The Croaking. As soon as he sees Mikey, Raph drops everything mid fight to hug his brother, relieved for his safety, though the hug abruptly ends after Raph and Mikey find the situation to be “weird”, a very brotherly response if you ask me XD 

With this, we know full well how much Raph loves his brothers. Despite his “lone wolf” attitude in season 1, Raph makes it clear from the very beginning that he does care about his brothers more than anything else in the world. He's loyal, he stays by his brothers' side and has admitted countless times that he would rather die than see them get hurt. "I have no problem risking my own life, but risking my brothers?" (S1 ep14) and he states this again in the next season, “Sorry, Slash. My brothers come first, no matter what.” (S2 ep7). Raph makes it clear (to the audience) that his brothers and his family always come first (so I don’t know why fans keep saying he hates them).

Also, anyone that says that he abuses and is a bully to Mikey needs to go touch some grass because that is a big fat lie and you obviously didn't watch the show (or you're an only child). Brothers are going to fight and pick on each other. That is normal! As someone with an older brother (who is much like Raph btw), I can confirm that siblings to this and in the end we still love each other and have each other’s backs. Out of all the brothers Raph is the most protective of Mikey. The second he learns that Mikey is hurt or someone wants to harm him he is the first going in for the attack or the first one to take action to protect Mikey and bring him to safety.

I mentioned this earlier, but I love how Raph grows/learns to respect Leo as a leader, though he still questions his brother’s judgment from time to time. By season 5, in the episode The Forgotten Swordsman, Raph and Mikey are out on patrol and start talking about Leo. Mikey expresses concern for Leo to which Raph says “He just misses Master Splinter. Being sensei's hard on him. I just wish we knew-”. Raph gets cut off, so we never know what he was going to say, but I headcanon he was going to say “I just wish we knew how to help him.” Raph acknowledges Leo’s growing stress and pressure of being the new sensei after Splinter’s death and he wants to help out anyway he can, but he (and everyone else) just don’t know how. He looks up to and respects Leo and cares about him a lot more than fans and even he himself believe.

Though we see very little moments of them, my overall favorite brother dynamic is Raph with Donnie. I like how Raph is the only brother who is direct and tries to help Donnie move on from his crush on April because he worries and cares for Donnie and knows he’s sensitive when it comes to his feelings. Even when Raph shows disapproval of Donnie’s crush on April, Raph will still be a wingman for Donnie. In the episode Operation: Break Out, after rescuing April’s dad from the Kraang prison, Raph starts hyping Donnie up in front of April to make him look good. Also Donnie refers to him and Raph as “The New A Team” in the episode Arena of Carnage (Mikey does too at one point in another episode, but later he calls him and Raph “Team Awesome”). I just think Donnie and Raph are a fun team and a very underrated sibling duo of “brains and brawn” in the series. It deserves more love and attention from fans.

I’ve talked about how much Raph cares for and is loyal to his brothers, but he is the same towards his friends too. He's protective of April, being the one to go rescue her from the Kraang in the episode The Kraang Conspiracy. He’s even the one who’s words get to April when she was possessed by the alien Za-Naron in the episode The Power Inside Her, reminding April about how much she cares for Donnie which gives her the strength she needed to free herself from Za-Naron’s control. Raph shows he cares for Casey's safety when they do dangerous missions that are out of Casey’s element and was the one who made sure Casey was safe when he was cursed by Alopex’s blade in season 4, and despite their past, Raph is always worried and shows concern for Slash.

Raph shows throughout season 2 that he has faith in Slash to turn to the side of good (something Raph gets proven right about later on). Raph is even one of the first people to trust Slash when he returns with his new team The Mighty Mutanimals in season 3, despite Leo's harsh judgements and suspicion.

The strange thing is, it is usually the other way around, with Leo wanting to make allies and Raph being the distrusting one, a dynamic switch we will see again in season 4…

I can’t make a 2012 Raphael appreciation post/character analysis without talking about the queen herself, Mona Lisa! As mentioned previously, Raph is a softie, and one of the biggest examples of that is when it comes to his relationship with his love interest, later girlfriend, Y’gythgba aka Mona Lisa. When trying to survive on the ice planet, Raph is the only one to suggest that he and the others should team up with the Salamandrians to find the metal they need to fix their ships and get off the planet. Though Raph’s plan is highly motivated by his newfound feelings for Mona, he knows that it is the best option that can help save his family and friends, and despite Leo dismissing the idea, Raph sneaks off alone to convince the Salamandrians himself. 

Raph’s feelings for Mona Lisa have always interested me, specifically how he fell for her. Unlike his brothers with their love interests being the cliche “love at first sight”, Raph’s was “love at first fight”. We all know how Raph fell for Mona, they fought each other after a misunderstanding and after one good punch to the face Raph was smitten. He quickly began admiring her strength, acknowledging what a power punch she gave him, and amazed by her skills and spirit as a warrior. Raph admits right from the start that he loves Mona because she's “bigger, stronger and a better fighter than” him. He never once feels that his masculinity is being threatened when around her, and throughout their relationship never told her to not be herself. He loves that she's better than him as a warrior and can beat his shell! He shows excitement at the suggestion of him and her sparring together someday in the episode The War for Dimension X. He adores her, and never cares about others' judgment regarding his relationship with her. When Casey laughs at him after discovering his crush on her, instead of denying his feelings or getting angry at Casey and later the others for mocking him (something we would expect Raph to do), Raph instead continues expressing his romantic interest in her to everyone. He opened up about his feelings to others! If S1 Raph met and fell in love with Mona, I’m convinced he would’ve been a tsundere and just be in denial about it the entire time, not wanting to look soft because he has a crush. Raph met Mona at the perfect time in his life. He has emotionally mature. In truth, I think Mona made Raph a better man and was the key to help him continue his character growth throughout the rest of the series.

A good example of how much Raph has changed and matured is when Mona betrayed him in the episode The Evil of Dregg. Discovering that his first love, the one person he trusted “more than anyone in the galaxy” betrayed him, broke Raph’s heart and his fighting spirit. When Mona pleads for forgiveness, you can understand Raph’s anger and now he’s not quick to forgive her, but even when he’s mad at her he still loves her. Look at Raph right before Mona goes off into battle:

If he was truly mad at her, he wouldn’t be looking back, his back would be fully turned, refusing to have his eyes meet with her’s. He looks back at her but he’s not looking at her with anger or hatred, it’s sorrow. Raph still cares, he’s just hurt at the moment. Because of the betrayal, Raph believes that everything he and Mona have been through meant nothing to her, but then Mona assures him that his doubts are wrong when she tells him that she loves him for the first time, and that’s all Raph needed to hear to bring back his fighting spirit and run into battle to join her. Raph even snaps and tries to kill Lord Dregg after he harmed Mona and shows just how far he’ll go for her if someone ever tries to harm her (he does it again in S5 when Bishop insults Mona, he quickly jumps in to defend “his woman”). By the end of the episode, Raph and Mona reconcile. Him forgiving her shows how much Raph has grown as a character. S1 Raph would never have forgiven her, he would’ve held the grudge and not let go of it, but this Raph knows what Mona did was out of her control, she was blackmailed, so Raph did the mature thing, understood her situation, and forgave her. Him forgiving her shows how strong their love for each other is, and they keep on showing how much they love one another throughout the rest of the series. 

Some other little details about Raph’s character that I like is that he's an animal guy. With his first pet Spike and the rooftop pigeons, we see a side of him that everyone else rarely gets to see. This minor trait about his character speaks a thousand words. It shows that he is gentle and caring at heart despite his tough persona he gives out to everyone else. We see this not only with Spike in seasons 1-2, but also later in seasons 4-5 with his new pet, Chompy Picasso.

By the time Chompy enters Raph’s life, he has matured. The purpose for Spike was for Raph to have someone to talk to about his feelings and express himself without judgment. Spike was like a therapy dog. Chompy however is not that. Raph has learned to open up by this point in the story, so he doesn’t need Chompy to talk about his personal problems and frustration as much as he had with Spike. Yes, Chompy is there to listen to Raph but at this point in the story Raph is open and expressive and not afraid to show his feelings to others. Raph has probably mention things to Chompy he still wouldn’t say to others (like in The Tale of Tiger Claw, he talks about Mona Lisa to Chompy, seeming that this isn’t the first time he’s done this), but Chompy isn’t a pet for Raph to vent to, instead he was a way for Raph to learn a new responsibility. Chompy is just a baby who just needs someone to love him, to look after and care for him, and Raph is that someone. He took a big responsibility to take care of Chompy after it was believed that his mother, Tokka, was killed. Raph doesn’t need another therapy dog, no, Chompy needs a caregiver, and when Tokka returns to take back her baby, she sees how much Chompy loves Raph and decides that it is better for him to stay on Earth with Raph where she knows he will be safe. I will always stand by this: Raph needed Spike, Chompy needed Raph.

This is probably an unpopular opinion, but I think Raphael is more similar and a parallel to Splinter than Leonardo is. Leo may be Splinter’s “best pupil” and next in line to be sensei for the Hamato Clan, but Splinter and Raph have a lot more in common than the show’s canon or even the fandom acknowledge and it hurts to think of the wasted potential. Raph obviously inherited Splinter's temper. We see in flashbacks that when Splinter was a young man he had an uncontrollable temper that Shredder could easily manipulate, and we still sometimes see that temper blow up in the show when Splinter is upset and disciplining his sons. There’s more similarities though than just them both being hotheaded. They both have a love and appreciation for art. Splinter mentions in Lone Rat and Cubs that he always wanted to be an artist, and it’s well known he loves the renaissance artists. Raph being an artist is a cute and fun little detail about his character that I really like and you see many times in the show, but fans barely acknowledge. He’s the one who painted the Venus pin up girl on the Party Wagon, he gives his girlfriend the nickname “Mona Lisa” (which he indirectly tells her that every time he calls her Mona Lisa he is reminding her that she is a beautiful work of art), and names his pet "Chompy Picasso" after the artist Pablo Picasso. Not to mention that both men know the pain and fear of the woman you love dying in your arms. I love Raph’s relationship with Splinter in the show, and it’s honestly way more interesting than Leo and Splinter’s.

I love their little “Spike, chew on your leaf…” bit in season 1 and how they bond over the Japanese mantra to help Raph overcome his fear of insects in season 4 (btw Raph being scared of bugs was so fun, I like the trope of the big strong dude being scared of something so small and harmless). The episode ends on a fun note, Splinter tells Raph to not tell the others of the mantra cause he “might use that trick on them one day”, showing that Splinter has a devious fun side to him similar to Raph’s.

Is 2012 Raphael perfect? Not at all. No character is. He still has flaws, but I feel that’s what makes him such a fun character still. I feel he had the best and most character development in the series. I love his voice actor, I love his character development, I love his relationship with his brothers, friends and girlfriend, I love all the little character details about him from his love of animals to his passion in art. It’s just my personal opinion, but I think 2012 Raph is the best version of Raphael. He has faced injustice in this day and age with fans misrepresenting his character and hating him for the wrong reasons. You don’t have to like him, everyone has their own opinions on certain characters and I respect that, but there’s a time when not liking him goes too far with saying he’s a bully and abuses his family. The haters can go argue with a wall, 2012 Raphael is the best and I love him, and I hope this post made you appreciate him a little bit more too <3

[hadit93]

Frustrations with Modern Thelema.

A couple of days ago I proclaimed that Thelema as a spiritual movement was dead, inert, and dull as dishwater. This was perhaps a harsh critique, but it cannot be denied that the majority of Thelemic circles have become stagnant, simply parroting Crowley instead of thinking for themselves. I do not believe Thelema as a current is dead. Thelema as a magical paradigm is very much so alive, vibrant, and filled with life. The issue is: Few people are willing to truly engage with it. Thelema is for all, but at some point upon engaging with it sheep will have to become wolves, the sleeping will have to become the awake; people will have to think for themselves.

My irritations with Thelemites have been going on for some time, you get into a discussion and if you say something they don’t like, they have a Crowley quote to back their ideas up and believe this is enough to shut your opinion down. Half of the time there is another Crowley quote that contradicts theirs because he often changed his mind, as we are all apt to do over the course of our lives. Not every word he penned was golden, some of it certainly was brilliant, other things were less…..sublime. 

Furthermore, we know a lot more about historical practices now, we know a lot more about the Golden Dawn practices, and yoga. Crowley certainly synthesised numerous currents into his magical system that was born out of and permeates the Thelemic current, but there were resources which were simply not available at the time. To ignore these advances in occultism is ridiculous. To follow any system unquestionably and without trying to find the best fit for the individual is ridiculous. Crowley died nearly 80 years ago, the world was a very different place, the magical world was a very different place, and I believe Thelema was written down by Crowley for us as Thelemites to develop. My question is: Where is that development today? There are a few notable people making innovations; however, the majority are still practicing magic blind to all that has come before and after Crowley.

Then we have the magick is simply psychological exercises designed to calm you down camp. Performing banishing rituals instead of smoking a cigarette. I don’t understand when Thelema began to have the magic and spirit stripped out of it, but it needs to stop. I am sick to my teeth of seeing Crowley quoted that spirits are part of the brain. I don’t care what he said at that time. He was young, inexperienced, and going through a stage of atheism. It is apparent from his life, his diaries, and his later thoughts that Crowley believed in the spiritual world, in discarnate entities, and in magic. His life would have perhaps ended in much more luxury and comfort if he didn’t believe in the spiritual. 

To all the Thelemites who ridicule me, asking “You actually believe in spirits?” Yes, yes I do. I do not proclaim to understand what they are, or even how they function. But my experiences dictate to me that there is something ‘other’ going on when magic is performed with external entities. Too many weird things have happened in a magical circle for me to simply put it down to a psychological projection. In fact, treating these things as a psychological protection can be dangerous at times in my opinion. Furthermore, if you are practicing magic as a form of therapy, just get therapy! You will save time and money. 

Again, I have plenty of experience, and it is my experience that I use as guidance in my own path. I have read almost everything Crowley has written: the good, the bad, and the ugly. I have engaged with Thelema for over a decade, I have been involved in AA, I have studied with other Thelemites, and I have practiced all that time. I have also practiced other traditions, found common ground, and related it back to Thelemic philosophy. I do not need Crowley’s words to back up my opinions any more, and his words will also not undo my opinions either. Especially when his words are misunderstood by the masses, who fail to comprehend his meaning and equally fail to understand his sarcasm. 

So what am I going to do to tackle this problem? To stop the stagnation of this spiritual movement? I cannot moan about it and then proceed to do nothing. I am going to start writing again, I will start sharing my ideas and my practices again. I stopped because the hate I was getting was simply not worth it. I don’t live a dramatic life, I would rather not argue with strangers on the internet. I have much better things to do with my time. So I shall respond to the hate with the most powerful magic of all: silence. 

[onceuponaoneshotfanfic]

Absolutely LOVE your Roy Kent fic! Could you do a fic with Roy or Jamie where the reader is really self conscious about their body? Like they are worried they are too big to be with someone that’s a footballer. Thanks!!!

Dress You Up

Roy Kent x Reader

0.8k words

Warnings: Language, feeling self-conscious, flirting and allusions to smutty things

Oh my gosh, how did this get lost in my ask box?? I'm so sorry 😓 I hope it came out good ❤️

You stared at yourself in the mirror, turning this way and that, trying to find any angle that you didn’t hate. When you and Keeley had found this dress at Harrod’s, she’d gushed about how hot you looked in it, how Roy was going to lose his mind. And you’d believed her, deciding that the charity gala was worth the splurge, especially considering the credit card you were using was Roy’s, at his insistence.

But now, even with your hair and makeup done, you felt… ridiculous. Instead of seeing the goddess Keeley had insisted you were in the fitting room, all you could see was every extra kilo, every place where the dress clung to you, and not in the way you’d hoped.

Your mind wandered to the guest list Roy had mentioned during dinner last week. The whole team, of course. Lots of rich old men, ready to open their fat pocketbooks for Rebecca’s fundraiser. And models. Actresses. The kind of women Roy Kent usually went for.

With your brain swimming with images of women whose bodies looked photoshopped, women you’d seen Roy with in magazines before the two of you began seeing each other, you grabbed your mobile, losing every ounce of excitement you’d about this night. In no time at all, a growling voice answered.

“Hey, you almost ready?”

The lump in your throat growing, you closed your eyes. “Actually, I’m not feeling well.” Not a complete lie. “You, er, should go on your own, Roy.”

There was a long pause on his end. “Well, this is fucking awkward then.”

“What is?”

Your doorbell rang. “I’m on your fucking porch,” Roy chuckled. “Can I at least say hello? Haven’t seen you all day. Fuckin’ miss you.”

The tenderness in his voice softened your resolve. “Just a quick moment, alright?” Your heels clicked against the tile of your front hall as you walked to your front door. “Don’t want you to catch whatever I’ve come down with.”

Roy expected to see you in sweats or pyjamas, with your hair in a sloppy bun, face probably tired. What he absolutely was not expecting was you in a beautiful dress that hugged every single one of those curves he loved. His eyes took their sweet time trailing up your figure until they landed on your face.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” he hissed, thick eyebrows raised.

You squeezed your eyes shut. “I know, I look-”

“Fucking hot,” he finished for you. “Like, if we don’t get in the car right now, that dress is going to be in the fucking shrubs.” He reached out and took your hand. “How the fuck are you not feeling well and looking like that? You got some flu that makes you sexy as hell?”

Heat flooded every inch of your skin. “You think I look… good?”

Roy’s eyebrows scrunched, as if your question was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard. “Fucking course I do. Might have to leave the gala early so I can come back and make you feel better.” He tugged you close to himself. “Unless you’re coming with me. In which case, I know some dark corners at the venue where we could get into some trouble.”

Unable to help yourself, you brought your hands up to fiddle with the lapels of his suit jacket. “You sure you wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen with me?”

Another ridiculous question, according to Roy’s facial expression. “Why the fuck would I ever be embarrassed to be seen with you? If anything, I’m scared Jamie Tartt’ll try to steal you from me.”

“I mean…” You shifted awkwardly in Roy’s arms. “There’s lots of models and shit there, right? Gorgeous, skinny women-”

“Women I’m not interested in,” Roy cut you off. “Women I wouldn’t give a second glance to. Especially with you in the fucking room.” He kissed your forehead tenderly. “Won’t be able to keep my eyes off of you. And my fucking hands will be just as dangerous.”

You nudged Roy’s nose with yours, the knots in your tummy starting to unravel. “You sure?”

He let out a soft chuckle before pressing his lips to yours briefly. “Very fucking sure. Now come on, put me out of my fucking misery. Say you’re coming to the ball with me.”

In his eyes you could see so much adoration, love, tenderness, and more than a little lust. It was enough to make you stand up straight and tighten your grip on him.

“You know some dark corners huh?” you teased.

A smile broke out across his bearded face. “Plenty,” he assured you, his hands wandering a bit. “I’d love to show ‘em to you.”

“Fine,” you conceded. “Come in while I grab my purse?”

To your surprise, Roy shook his head. “If I come in there, we are not making it to the gala on time. We’d probably barely make it to your bedroom.”

A wicked smile spread across your face as you tugged his tie, pulling him inside with you. “We can be a bit late, can’t we?”

“If you insist.”

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - seventy-four | because I like you

Your life had taken on a strange quality: at the café, you and San pretended to date while at work, and at your real job, you pretended to date on stream. You couldn’t even say that you were leading a double life, because it was just your whole life now. Both day and night, you and San were a fake couple, acting the way a real couple did in a performance for others. The only time you weren’t acting now, was when you were at home by yourself, interacting with no one.

San made it as easy as he possibly could though. At work you smiled at each other more and stood closer to each other, sometimes he would get very close as if you two were having a private conversation, the way couples sometimes do, but he would tell you silly jokes to make you giggle the way a girlfriend might. During your Minecraft streams he went above and beyond, constantly making you items and leaving them for you, fighting things off for you, and standing with you while you figured out how to make literally anything and walking you through it multiple times.

He also had this habit of looking at you like you were everything in his world; eyes in upturned crescents, smile broad across his face making his dimples go off like firecrackers during new years, and you swore he looked like the sparkliest, most bishie manga boy you'd ever seen come to life. Sakura petals and sparkles floating around his face and everything.

He was… a very good actor.

In fact, if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought that maybe he really did like you as more than a friend. You wondered how good of an actor Yunho was, if his roommate was out here, night and day, acting like such a good boyfriend that - if you didn’t keep reminding yourself - you would have already been convinced that he actually was your boyfriend.

In the few hours you had between seeing him at work and seeing him during streaming, you had to consciously convince yourself of the reality: that none of it meant anything. You struggled against your heart as it tried to tell you, No, what he’s doing is real! I know because it makes me flutter and pump harder and I’m trying to tell you that it’s real!, with your brain logically countering, We agreed to fake date, it’s nothing more than that, don’t be ridiculous!, and you stuck between the two of them, not knowing who to believe. At this rate, they were going to rip your metaphorical arms out of your sockets in their tug of war, and you would collapse to the floor and die, only to still have your heart quicken at the thought of him. 

The next day at work, you leaned your elbow on the counter and rested your chin on your palm.

“What do you want?” San asked, smiling.

“Remember when I said you have kind eyes? I like to look at them.”

San laughed.

“And you have a really handsome face. And I should know I've worked at two different cafés so I've seen a lot of faces.”

San laughed again.

“Um, can I get something?”

“Ah! Mingi! Nice to see you again,’ you said as you stood up straight. “Welcome to AtoZ café, what would you like?”

Mingi smiled. “Can I get two mocha frappes, large, and two peach teas, small?”

“Sure thing.” You smiled and went to punch in his order.

San leaned over so his face was in your way.

“What are you doing?” 

“I thought you wanted to look at me?”

“Not right now, I’m trying to put this order in.” You laughed and pushed him.

“Are you sick of me now?” He asked as he got closer.

“Sannie, oh my god.” You pushed him again.

Mingi looked at the two of you with a raised eyebrow.

He smiled, standing up straight, one hand on his hip. “Why were you looking at me so much, anyway?”

“Because,” you gestured to Mingi to pay with his card and finished ringing him up, and turned to make his drinks. 

San followed you to the espresso machine. “Because?”

“I’m a Sanflower.”

“A Sanflower?” He raised an eyebrow playfully.

“Mhm. Sunflowers always face the sun, and I'm always facing you. I'm a Sanflower.”

Wooyoung made a retching noise as he came out of the kitchen.

San ignored him, his attention still on you. “That's cheesy.” 

“You like it.”

“… I do like it.”

“Stop being gross!” Wooyoung said as he waved his hands at both of you. “I’m confiscating her. I have to teach her macaroons today.”

“Right now? I’m making drinks--”

Wooyoung hefted you onto his shoulder and you handed San the empty espresso cups you were holding before you could drop them.

“Wooyoung!”

“Can’t wait.”

You waved at San and blew him a kiss as Wooyoung carried you back to the kitchen. He smiled at you and pretended to catch it.

Mingi smiled awkwardly at the display and chuckled. “You guys are cute.”

“She’s cute.” San smiled, before making the drinks.

In the kitchen, Wooyoung put you down.

“Woo! What was that for?” You hit his chest.

“I know you’re only pretending to date, but you’re both so sweet I’m going to get cavities, and I’m an innocent bystander.”

You chuckled. “Do we really seem like a couple though?”

“Yes. And I wish you’d stop.” He shoved the bag of batter into your hands.

“But we have to make it look like we’re dating so my stalker doesn’t come back.”

“He’s not even in the store at the moment, why do you have to go so hard?”

“Because he could come in at any time. If it looks like we’re springing into action, he’s not going to believe it’s real.” He stuck out his tongue in disgust as he watched you pipe batter onto the sheet in little domes. 

“And anyway, we shouldn’t talk about it not being real, we’re trying to convince that stalker that I’m taken. Maybe he’ll just… leave me alone forever.”

“So then you’d have to fake date San for forever?”

You looked up and stared at him for a minute. “Maybe I’ll just move again. The stalker wouldn’t possibly follow me to like… Centralia, Pennsylvania, right?” You went back to piping.

“Is that a place?”

“Yeah, there’s been a coal mine burning under the town and the government had to evacuate it because people were being poisoned by the smoke.”

He chuckled. “Why do you know that?”

“The Silent Hill movie was sort of based on it. All the fog.” 

He nodded. “Wouldn’t you also be poisoned from the smoke, then?”

You looked up again as if he had made some amazing point. “And then I’d die and he wouldn’t be able to follow me. Excellent idea.”

Wooyoung shoved you playfully. “Don’t talk like that. I don’t want you to die.”

You laughed and got back to the macaroons. “I mean, my stalker definitely couldn’t follow me to the beyond.”

“But then you’d be leaving your fake boyfriend behind.”

“Oh no.” You said sarcastically.

Wooyoung laughed and elbowed you. “Is he that bad?”

“No… he’s actually a really good boyfriend-- fake boyfriend.”

“Oh?” He smiled.

“Ugh.” You sighed and stopped to stretch your neck, all the looking down made it hurt. You looked at the ceiling. “He sent me flowers that day...”

He chuckled. “Is that bad?” 

“I’ve never had a real boyfriend bring me flowers.” You looked at Wooyoung. “That’s just-- infuriating. The real ones don’t but the fake one does?”

Wooyoung laughed. “He’s just a really sweet dude.”

“You’re telling me. I could slap myself, he’s so sweet.”

He chuckled. “I guess it’s good that you picked San, then? There could be worse people to fake date if you have to do it for a while.”

“Like who? You?”

“I’m an amazing boyfriend, fake or otherwise.” He stuck his tongue out at you.

“Alright. Brat.”

His eyes widened in shock for a second before he ran his fingers through his hair. “Haha…” 

You snorted and went back to your macaroons. Out of the corner of your eye, you thought you saw some devious expression flash across Wooyoung’s face.

“What if you and San actually dated? Then you’d have a real boyfriend who brings you flowers.”

“Woo, we work together. You don’t shit where you eat, dude.”

“What? How would asking him out be shitting?”

“Listen… once, when I was young and very, very dumb I dated a guy I worked with. I thought it was a fantastic idea because I’d get to see him all the time… and I did. He treated me like shit and I had to see him all the time at work both while we dated and after we broke up. I was only lucky in that he ended up getting promoted and transferred before I could be the one to quit.”

“But San’s not--”

“I know that you’re going to say ‘San’s not like that,’ and while I’ve only known all of you for a few months, I do get the feeling he might not be. But I knew that guy for over a year and I thought he wasn’t like that. And I was wrong.”

“I’ve known San longer than you have.”

You stopped what you were doing, and turned to him. “Have you ever dated him?”

“I-- no…”

“So you don’t know how he might act in a relationship.”

“Uh… no.”

You stared at him for a few moments, waiting for him to acknowledge that he understood you.

“I mean… I guess you’re right.”

You went back to what you were doing.

“But you won’t know unless you give him a chance.”

“I don’t know why you’re suddenly so invested in my love life - or lack thereof - Wooyoung, but please stop. I’m being stalked online as well as in real life. I don’t have the mental bandwidth to think about actually trying to enjoy anything right now.”

You kept your focus on the macaroons you were working on, but you could see Wooyoung looking at you. He stared at you a few more moments before getting to work on the macaroons he had piped out earlier.

You thought of your conversation with Wooyoung again as you woke up the next morning, confused at first of whether it was a dream or not. But it was just the lucid remembrance of the day before, making macarons and trying to avoid the subject of yours and San’s possible real dating.

And even after partly reliving it as a dream, you still had no idea why Wooyoung even suggested that you and San actually date. Nosey.

You checked the time, confused as to why your alarm hadn’t gone off: four AM.

Jesus fuck. 

You stretched and tried to shake off the dream. You had the day off today, and you had to start working on the new computer you had been planning on. The last parts for it had come in late last week, but you had been so busy with your subterfuge that you hadn’t had any time to think about putting it together. Instead, maybe getting lost in working on it all day was just what you needed to clear your head for a few hours.

Too many hours - and a lot of cursing - later, it was time to stream and you and San ran around in Minecraft because your brain was too fried to do anything else.

You yawned.

“Are you okay?” San asked.

“Yeah, I’m just tired.”

“Why’s that? I would make a joke about you gaming all night but you normally don’t.”

You chuckled. “Not since Mass Effect 3 disappointed me, at least.”

He laughed.

“No, I was working on a new rig with a custom case and shit all day today. I woke up early by accident and worked on it for… from four AM to now?”

He did the math quickly in his head. “--Sixteen hours?”

“Yep,” you yawned. “I’m still not done with it.”

“Oh my god…”

“Do you want to hear about it?”

“I want you to go to sleep!” He laughed. “Why’d you wake up at four to work on it?”

“It wasn’t on purpose, I had like a weird dream and woke up.”

“A nightmare?”

“I’m not sure.”

“Do you remember it?”

Yes. “Not really.”

“Well… that sucks that it woke you up.”

“Wanna hear about the computer?”

“You know I love it when you talk shop, go on.”

As you went to respond with a long list of specs and reached for your phone so you could send him pictures, your stomach growled louder than you had ever heard it growl before. You paused.

“Was that-- your stomach?” San asked and laughed.

“I’m just realizing that I forgot to eat lunch.”

San laughed again.

“...And breakfast.”

“Wha--? You didn’t eat breakfast?”

“I always forget to eat when I’m excited to work on something.”

San tsk’d. “Jagi, you can’t do that to yourself.”

“It was an accident!” You laughed.

“I’m not scolding you.” San went quiet for a second. “What would you have eaten if you did have lunch?”

“Are you trying to rub it in?”

He chuckled. “No. Just making conversation.”

“Mmmmm, actually I could go for some udon right now.”

“Sounds good.”

“I want them fat, fat, squishy noodles.”

He laughed softly. “In what, like a soup? Or something else?”

“Oooo, good question. Umm, honestly, I could just go for a traditional udon soup right now. So warm, so squishy, so umami.”

He hummed in response and the two of you went back to your game.

Twenty minutes later San’s avatar stopped moving on the screen. 

“What you doing?” You asked.

“Take your headphones off?”

“What? Why? You can’t be here, you’re on stream.”

He laughed. “Is someone ringing the doorbell?”

You took your headphones off and listened. Sure enough, the doorbell rang. You jumped with a startled gasp. “What? How did you know?”

He laughed softly. “That should be your food. You should go get it.”

“What?” You got up, beelined to the door, checked the intercom and saw the delivery man. You opened the door, “Hi.”

“Order for y/l/n y/f/n?”

“That’s me. How much do I owe you?”

“It’s already paid for.”

“O-- oh. Thank you.”

“Have a nice night.” He smiled.

“Yeah, you too.”

He walked back down the hall. You got some utensils and went back to your desk with the food in tow. You put your headphones back on.

“So, um… is this why you were asking what udon I wanted?”

He chuckled. “I’m surprised you didn’t pick up on it; I wasn’t exactly being sly about it.”

“Honestly, I was too busy still thinking about the computer,” you laughed. “You didn’t have to buy me food, though.”

“Of course I did. I can’t let my girl sit there with a growling stomach while she tries to stream.”

You laughed again as you opened the container with the soup, “It wasn’t that bad--” you were interrupted by your stomach growling again, even louder than the first time.

San laughed loudly. “You were saying?”

“It was reacting to the food! I just opened the lid!”

He laughed. “It sensed it.”

“It did-- oh my god it smells so good.” You could have drowned in the amount of saliva your mouth produced at the mere smell of the food and swallowed hard.

“I’m glad.”

“Did you get anything for yourself?”

“Nah, I ate earlier.”

“Then let me order you some dessert or something.”

“You don’t have to get me anything.”

“But I feel bad.”

“Don’t feel bad, you’re not allowed.”

“Morn…”

“If you eat and you’re happy, then I’m happy.”

You had to stop yourself from saying what you really wanted to say: ‘I love you’. 

It wouldn’t have been weird if you said it, the two of you - to everyone else - were dating, after all. Couples tell each other ‘I love you’ all the time. Except that the two of you were not a real couple, and all of this was for show. If you said it, it might not have seemed weird to the fans who were watching, but it definitely would have been weird to San… and to you. The statement was much too close to how you actually felt as you mixed the soup with your chopsticks: how could he just buy you food because you were hungry and ask for nothing in return? You moved away from your microphone and sniffed an errant tear that was trying to form. Being hungry was making you emotional, that was all.

“You’re so sweet, Morn.”

“Because I like you, Jagiya. Now eat and I’ll entertain everyone. Watch my stream and I’ll entertain you too.”

You clicked over to his channel so you could do just what he said.

‘Like’. You supposed the word was innocuous enough, but it felt like it meant more. Maybe that was just your emotional state and the fact that he bought you food without asking and then told you that you eating would make him happy, ticking every box of how a person could possibly want to be treated: like they matter. He, as a fake boyfriend, treated you like you mattered.

You felt confused. You wanted it to mean more. But it meaning more didn’t go along with the plan. And - you reminded yourself - you still worked at the café together. Dating him could be all well and good, but it could also not.

You sighed and started eating your food while you watched his stream.

San walked into a river and started taking damage from some fish.

You laughed. “Morn, what are you doing?” 

He quickly - though awkwardly - navigated away from the danger and out of the river. “Sorry, someone texted me.”

“You almost died,” you responded through a mouthful of food.

He chuckled. “Chew your food before you choke.”

You went to his chat and commented with “>:PPPPPPPPP”. He paused for a moment, and you knew he saw it when he responded with:

“Very mature.”

“The matureist.”

He laughed.

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@rachs-words • @stayatinykatsy • @dinossaurz​​ • @conwunder​ • @tinyelfperson​ •

[tamelee]

Just a little rant about HOW MUCH I FUCKING HATE NARUTO FANBOYS OH MY GAAWWWDDDD besides the obvious reasons (homophobia, misogyny, incels) they worship the shit outta the worse characters ever like Shikamaru and Itachi and Hinata. Like I just saw on the Naruto Reddit (my fault, I know, but I searched something up about Naruto and the first link discussing that was Reddit) and they all used that stupid dumbass filler where Shikamaru was asking his dad about Naruto and why everyone hates him and how he doesn't hate him (even tho in CANON he did 😤) and they all said not only is he a better friend to Naruto than Sasuke ever was but (here we go again) Sasuke's more of a brother 🙄 and they also said Sasuke treated Naruto like trash and was the worst friend 🤦🏻‍♀️ like it's so insane to me the dudebros lack of brain and reading comprehension. Like how do you as a grown ass man not know the difference between what's actually real and what's not about what you're watching? Or maybe it's that they just hate Sasuke so much and how much Naruto loves him and keeps talking about him and how he's his best friend in canon (he said it way too much for me to believe that even these ugly incels couldn't understand) that they'd rather give the credit to someone else that isn't a threat and doesn't make Naruto act borderline homosexual. Oh and they obviously ignore Shikamaru's blatant misogyny and still consider him the best thing ever because why would they care 🙄 anyway end rant, sorry. I just hate this fandom 😭 I stay on my side of things mostly (well, other than this one time. But when I do I just rant about it to someone and move on)

Ah yeah it’s frustrating isn’t it? 

I think it’s obvious if you’ve read the Manga. I wonder if they’ve only seen the Anime and just don’t bother checking what is canon first. So much is changed from Kishimoto’s original. (Has anyone seen that twt discussion on filler? I’d love to read your opinions on it.) 

I mean, Hinata’s supposed backstory with Naruto is just ridiculous, but I don’t understand why people think Naruto was friends with any of them? Even if it’s shown in filler that Naruto was around them or they asked their parents about Naruto... what makes fans say they were friends? 

Sasuke was the only one who acknowledged Naruto with a smile and they weren't even friends until much later.

Right before the exams, Shikamaru tells team 7 not to die. Not because he’s worried for them, but because he believes they’re not capable, largely because of his lack of faith in Naruto. While Naruto calls them idiots and insults both Shikamaru and Hinata as he introduces them to the reader. 

'A big mouth idiot' and a 'weirdo' (I believe he actually also called her creepy but I can't find the translation, but remember when Kushina told Naruto not to go for a weird girl? She used the same words xD) And then Shikamaru immediately wanted to target Naruto in the forest of death.

Had either of them at any point been friendly to Naruto or whatever, then we would’ve known here and Naruto wouldn’t have insulted them like he did (as is his right) because he craved a connection more than anything. It’s ridiculous how the Anime at times just blatantly ignores the lonely misery Naruto had to grow up in (ALONE) in favor of these other characters. As if sugarcoating that would make any of them look less bad. And don't get me started on Hinata during that written test because it's no wonder Naruto got so confused and didn't trust her "kindness".

Regardless, I think a lot of Naruto-fans who tend to glorify any of these friendships and extending it for what it is largely do so because they side with a narrative regarding the system and don't get why Sasuke (and others) challenged it in the first place. Brushing it off like it was some evil, selfish thing. I personally like Shikamaru's development and who he is as a character in the end because him showing change might've been very helpful in actually changing the system had they worked towards that. But you know... we'll never know.

[ochrearia]

Small Shenanigans

Iiiiii don't have a better title for this but I don't careeee. This is yet another followup to the last one I can't believe I'm doing chronological parts right after each other instead of just random situations days or weeks apart. Crazy!

Also yeah. Left Beefer, Blue, and Cyber out. I'm sorry I cannot handle all these BFs at once it's so hard on my brain to keep track disjrjsifjg AAAA GUILT ITS FINE

BFs in this one-shot: PoPr!BF (Biff, mine), wyd!BF (Beef, Karl's), fc!BF (Boyf, Keyy's), sfa!BF (Peacock, Shed's), S2!BF (Bee, Isaac's), Yourself (YS)

“Someone tell this absolute moron to remember to relax his muscles, because I’m all the way over here and I can still see that he’s so tense that he might collapse into himself and make a black hole.”

“I woke up, maybe five minutes ago? And you’ve decided to be the biggest problem in my life. What did I ever do to you, Bee?” YS grumbled in response, suddenly self-conscious of how he’d already been tensing all his muscles up.

“Dude, you’re stressing out 24/7. That’s bad.” Beef pointed out, the most obvious statement of the century. “Ever heard of this thing called self-care?”

“And before you joke about ‘yes I have, I’ve been taking care of you guys’ that does NOT count.” Boyf added quickly.

YS closed his mouth, glowering at him for taking the words out of his mouth. Now he couldn’t deflect.

“Could do it for him.” Peacock suggested. “We’ve got him all warm and cozy already. More care for the big guy!”

Fuck all of these assholes. YS groaned, pulling his hoodie strings so far out that the hood closed around his entire face, only showing his nose. One of the first things he’d been allowed to do was put the hoodie back on properly when he woke up. It had apparently been a few hours at least since Biff found him, and now there was mostly everyone just hanging around for the sake of it.

Blue had been busy, as well as Beefer. Well, more like Beefer couldn’t get away from his world without a really suspicious excuse. Blue had insisted the rest who could come to give YS lots of love on his behalf, which was sweet.

Cyber wasn’t fully comfortable with anyone but YS yet. He wasn’t even actually in the main group chat either, because YS knew he could not trust the rest of these morons to be appropriate all the time with a 14-year-old version of themselves in there.

“I am fine.” YS insisted rather weakly. “Tense muscles are nothing, there are infinitely worse things that I could be dealing with right now.”

“We have to convince you to eat sometimes, YS, so sorry to say that we’re not believing that shit for a second.” Biff grinned, knowing that would only make him complain more.

God, dammit, I can’t with this. YS grumbled more, facing his worst enemy- his own head. Sentiment gets caught too easily in his mind, just the fact that they were here for him, talking about how to take care of him, something about that made him feel ridiculously small. Something about that also caused a slight flush to his cheeks, thankfully hidden by the hoodie.

The bastard known as his shapeshifting, however, was not hidden by the piece of clothing.

“Aaaah, he’s shrinking again!” Peacock teased gleefully. “Oh please, please get small enough so I can pick you up like a stuffed animal, just one time.”

“Shut the fuck up!” YS all but shrieked, embarrassment growing worse by the second. “Stop that! You’re doing it on purpose, stop using my power against me!”

“But you’re so fun-sized!” Bee grinned, ignoring his pleas and going further.

“Nah, it’s kind of really hilarious to be able to call you short.”

YS shrunk more against his will, whining while he covered his already hidden face with his hands. “Hate you. Hate all of you. Terrible, bastardly little brothers. I will kick you out of my apartment.”

“I don’t think you can kick any of us out of here with how small you’re at right now.” Beef grinned with a shrug. “I mean, look, you’re small now, might as well go with it. Let us help you, idiot.”

“At least let me give you a shoulder massage.” Biff insisted. “Beef said something about you not liking people touching your upper back so I’ll avoid it. You’re probably tense as fuck everywhere but I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Ugh, fine. If that means you idiots will stop talking about taking care of me, in front of me.”

“Nothing wrong with hearing how much people love you, moron. You have to stop thinking you’re exempt from such things.” Boyf thought with a stern look.

That word again. He’d been so averse to that word at the start. Didn't like hearing it in relation to himself because he didn’t want to believe it. Insisting that it didn’t apply to him, because why would it? And it was getting hard for him to continue thinking that when in his right mind. Dammit, they were changing him in ways that he hadn’t expected.

And he hated to admit it, but the shoulder massage was fucking melting him.

“‘I’m fine’ my ass.” Bee teased. “It’s so fun to see you be the complete opposite of what you tried to make us believe at the beginning. Mr. tough guy, talking about how cool and mysterious he is, acting like a complete fucking force of nature. Fast forward and here you are, small as fuck, flustered over the idea of people wanting to take care of you, and then also melting faster than butter at the first moment of loving attention.”

“I am going to- I’m going to block my mirror with a blanket. Because you fuckers keep waltzing in whenever you want and making my life hell.” YS hissed. “Banned from the big brother world because you can’t be trusted to behave.”

“Behave? We’re behaving.” Biff snickered. “You want to see us actually misbehave? There’s a very easy way for me and Beef to team up to do that right in front of everyone!”

“Shut. Up.” Venom wasn’t a common factor in YS’s tone, but it slipped in every once and a while. This wasn’t actually potent venom though.

“Geez, alright, no need to be sensitive about it.”

Alright, you know what, if they were going to treat him like a toddler then he was going to act like a toddler. It wasn’t like he could get any smaller at this point, they’d teased him to the limit. Might as well just give up!

YS whined indignantly, deciding that the continued shoulder massage was no longer worth it and wiggled his way out of Biff’s grip. He gained slight triumph hearing his offended gasp, turning around and sticking his tongue out at him. Well, now he was on the floor and his line of sight didn’t even reach past some of their torsos.

“He moved! Fair game!” Peacock hollered, swooping in and lifting YS off the ground by the waist. He had a habit of picking him up.

“Watch it! Watch where you put your hands!” YS shouted, smacking the hand a little too close to his stomach. “Fucking hell! Would it kill you to warn me before you keep doing that?!”

“Think I’m starting to figure out this fabled YS secret that Biff and Beef refuse to give up…” Boyf thought aloud, but it went unnoticed compared to the air chaos.

“Put him on your shoulders! That way he can pretend he’s at normal height and act like he isn’t an adorable softie.” Beef suggested.

“My big brother teddy bear abandoned me for another me. This is crazy.” Biff deadpanned, but his voice was still playful.

“What do you think about that idea, big guy?” Peacock held YS up in front of him like he was holding a pet cat. “Ah, wait, I can’t call you that right now. Are you good with that little guy?”

Mortified. Something stirred in YS’s head at being called ‘little’. Huh. He was always the big brother, being tall and towering over some of them. Why did being the small one and being acknowledged as such make him want to melt? Seriously? He’s not a little brother.

Maybe it was just the idea of not having to be the ‘oldest’ keeping everything together. To be able to be the idiot, not the first line of defense.

“...Yeah.” YS mumbled, head full of fuzziness. “I wanna be up there.”

Such a silly concept. Getting a piggyback ride, again, from Peacock. Despite how big he usually was, despite how tough and serious he’d tried to come across as. Reminded him of a nickname he’d been given a while ago… something rather silly.

“I think you killed his brain.” Bee cackled from his spot near the wall mirror. “Can he get too embarrassed? Should we pull it back?”

“Never tried that hard, to be honest.” Biff shrugged. “I am but one man. Only so much I can say on my own to push him over the edge. I don’t think he can handle all of us getting on his ass at the same time.”

“Aw man, don’t make me feel bad. I was just teasing. We didn’t actually make you uncomfortable, did we?” Boyf worried.

YS shook his head for a moment before resting his chin on top of Peacock’s hat. “No, I’ll live. Thinking about stuff. Might still be a little messed up from my bad night. Still tired but when am I not, honestly…” He was rambling.

“We’re all here for you, remember that.”

“Do you feel any better by being up there?” Peacock asked lightly. “Boyf is still kinda taller than me, so I can’t guarantee the best view. Is this close enough to your normal?”

“I promise that you don’t have to worry about simulating my normal height, I live like that everyday. I haven’t lost it. I’m simply not like that right now.” YS rolled his eyes.

“Well… now what? You’ve got your throne atop Peacock’s shoulders, what say King Brother?” Bee teased, trying to play around some more.

“King Brother? Don’t inflate his ego even more than it needs to be…” Beef jokes.

This apartment was where he spent almost all of his time, really. Only having energy for small amounts of actually doing things. Getting food, supplies, anything that was necessary were things YS could kick his ass enough to do before he ran out of essentials. But in terms of anything else, he didn’t really get out a lot, and he didn’t count going to other worlds. Most of the time going to those other worlds entailed another apartment that he didn’t even walk out the door from.

The sun had been up for a while now. He didn’t make a habit of opening his window shade much, the light in his room was a pale yellow from the old lightbulb. God, he used to be so active. He used to go out a lot more, enjoying the air and sky, being a person in the outside world. He used to be content to go out alone. Nowadays he could barely stomach the idea, knowing that weirded out looks would be shot his way for how he appeared. He didn’t like going out alone.

But he wasn’t alone here. Five of his brothers were hanging around, seemingly not willing to leave any time soon. Perhaps he could take advantage of that, to take a step that he probably needed?

“Let’s get out of here.” YS said finally. They looked at him like he’d just said the world was ending- actual shock. “What? Stop looking at me like that. I can’t enjoy my piggyback ride if Peacock doesn’t have an open space to parade around. I can guide us back to my apartment if we get lost.”

“YS? Playing into being ridiculous? What fucking year are we in?” Biff was teasing, but the excitement shining in his eyes gave him away.

“All of us?” Beef questioned with a raised eyebrow.

“If you want to be a boring loser and stay here that’s your choice. Ah, but you don’t let anyone challenge you like that and get away with it, now do you?” Peacock was egging him on on purpose.

“Running around like maniacs with the chance to explore the slight differences of YS’s world? Hell yeah, sounds like a great way to spend an afternoon.” Boyf hopped up, ready to go.

“Try not to run off so fast that the smaller of us can’t keep up. Then we’ll really be lost. Unless you’re gonna do it on purpose, then I have a few choice words.” Bee snarked, getting up from his place too.

“Fuck it, let’s go!” Came Biff’s deciding call.

It was a warm day. Clouds every once and awhile, but the sky still a bright and vibrant blue. The sun was doing its best to dodge the clouds, shining on the rambunctious group as they pranced and paraded down street sidewalks, guided by wherever YS decided to point them. They got stares, sure, but it was okay. He wasn’t alone this time.

Ah. There was nothing in his chest but happiness here.

How silly.

[godblooded]

i can’t believe i have to discuss communication for the thousandth time but i have to discuss communication for the thousandth time. if a person im’s you continuously when you write together, it’s them being engaged in your dynamic. which isn’t actually a sin, it’s pretty normal if you’re a neurodivergent individual who just has hobbies and enjoyments. taking every message you get insanely personally is… ridiculous. the amount of non communication that goes on around here, and i don’t mean when a genuine issue is in question, i mean shit like taking someone’s message and applying your own feelings to it. it’s perfectly cool to ignore someone’s message, but if you never respond to them, the person often thinks you don’t want to talk to them. i’m not saying it’s true of everyone — from my own personal experience, whether a person intends it or not, i automatically feel like someone doesn’t want to engage. am I wrong? absolutely. that’s my brain being my brain in its most dysfunctional way. but it’s an innate response — if you don’t engage, the other person will inevitably assume you’re either uninterested or being irritating, and this mentality spreads outward toxically to everyone else. it’s very, very easy to make a person feel like you don’t want to talk to them at all and mixed signals are just shitty to do to a person.

being overly sensitive is a bitch. source: i’m an overly sensitive human being, but some people forget the extent of what tumblr/chat is to some of us just isn’t that serious. some people don’t agonize over the reason somebody said something, or what their content is for saying it. some people are more likely to be talkative than others, which isn’t a bad thing and should stop being treated like it. everyone comes here to rp for different reasons, whether they be involved or loose. some people privatize their space and curate it accordingly, and others are very open and public and more than willing to associate with the community at large. the issue is that it’s become more or less popular to excessively privatize one’s own space, and it means if you happen to be a very social person you’re just ‘annoying’.

is this a me thing? absolutely. i cannot pretend it’s not a very personal pet peeve of mine when enthusiasm is mistaken for being ‘pushy’. engagement and interest isn’t ‘pushy’, even if there are degrees to which it can be (a person spamming you over and over within the same hour, a person actually lovebombing you and not the internet definition where someone’s just really nice to you and you don’t Like It). can neurodivergent people get a little over the top with their interests? yeah. it’s the nature of being nd. but it’s also the reason why i see so many apologies on ooc posts ‘talking about things that don’t have to do with their blog’. there’s no social mores to which you must adhere, this is the fucking internet. it’s genuinely awful to spam and bother someone for a reply or even for attention no matter the situation, but the definition of ‘spam’ has become pretty subjective in the community. don’t harass someone over and over, but there’s a difference between genuinely harassing a human being and just showing interest.

just be clear about communication and try to be open-minded about the way you’re approached. and for the love of god, stop projecting your own thoughts and feelings onto the people you interact with. or, to be more specific, don’t. no one can read your thoughts and you can’t read anyone else’s. it’s a perpetual cycle of making a lot of something out of a whole lot of nothing.

[dufferpuffer]

I know people have a problem with bookworm!remus because he only is seen reading one book in canon (even though I don’t think that’s a fair reason to completely dismiss that hc) but I often think about the fact that for all of his childhood before hogwarts he literally didn’t have any friends and couldn’t even really interact with other kids, if that’s his situation it makes a lot of sense to be giving him hobbies like being interested in movies (though I don’t think he’d have easy access to them given the whole wizard thing), music and books. I mean it’s very common for lonely children to take interest in books because it’s a way to live in another world where characters can give you comfort, I really don’t think it’s a stretch to hc Remus as a bookworm. I also recognize that the pushback might be coming from frustrations with fanon in general, as fanon Lupin apparently doesn’t look much like canon Lupin (I wouldn’t really know I don’t really interact with that side of the fandom) but still I feel like it might be misdirected anger.

Oh! Oh oh! I LOVE bookworm Remus! I love 'does little crafts' Remus! Baby Remus reading books and colouring in and staying inside all the time - because he can't go make friends with the other kids - and they are scared of his scars, anyway!

I LOVE 'Remus that has a soft spot for fiction'! He doesn't' get to have friends growing up, he doesn't get to have many friends as an ADULT - and he is always acting a role... why not those roles be based on characters in the many books he has read? Plus books are cheap, easy to carry and easy to replace.

'Learned how to cook and clean muggle-style because he was at home with a sickly mother and wanted to help scrub the rental property before they had to move again' Remus!

I have a HC that he grew up with music and the radio I find it hard to believe they would carry a TV with them from house to house when they need to move so often - maybe a small black and white? Ha, baby Remus watching Dr Who in the 60s... It's a shame the 3rd Doctor started when Remus was going off to Hogwarts - I think he would have liked him...

I don't know if there is a backlash on bookworm Remus as much as there is on smart Remus. Like... smartest of the bunch Remus. Because thats just not true - and isn't how he is as an adult, either. He really isn't that studious or... idk... research-y...? Albus and Severus are pushing the boundaries of magical knowledge in the fields they are interested in. Sirius and James were child genius' doing the near-impossible. Remus... doesn't do that. He is specifically excluded from that.

But Remus isn't DUMB. He knows his stuff. We DO see him with his nose in a book, and I think that MEANS something. It just doesn't have to mean much. "Remus likes books" Or "Remus studies even when outside"

But it will always be hilarious how the text goes "James and Sirius were INCREDIBLY smart and RIDICULOUSLY talented, doing things that were basically impossible" And yet people go "Remus was the brains. He read... a book"

[tightjeansjavi]

4 is perfect for horse dad joel!!! you could do a blurb of one of their morning phone conversations 🥰

Somethin’ Stupid

horse dad! joel x f! horseback riding instructor reader

A/N: thank you for sending in this request my love 🫶🏻 #4 things you said over the phone. 𓃗

~word count: 565~

Summary: one of horse dad! Joel’s and reader’s many cute ass morning phone calls ♡

Warnings: none, just a whole lotta tooth aching fluff and flirting of course ;) +18 only because my entire blog is not suitable for minors so dni!

“I’m sorry, who the hell actually enjoys putting ketchup on their eggs? I feel like that’s a fucking crime. Ketchup on eggs? That’s blasphemy right there!” You said with a light heartfelt laugh.

“Well, ouch. That hurts my feelings darlin.’ I am one of those people who likes ketchup on their eggs. You’ve gone and broken my heart into a bunch of lil’ pieces!” Joel deeply chuckled through the receiver.

“Gasp. So you actually are not flawless after all? Gotta say, Joel. I think this is gonna make or break it for me.” You let out a sigh of disappointment.

“Oh c’mon now sugar. Don’t go and sayin’ that! Bein’ all dramatic on me. You’re lucky I think you’re cute.” He grumbled.

“I knew this day would come. Whatever will I do? Oh, Joel! You have wounded me so!” Your tone was playfully dramatic and you could picture his little eye roll already.

Joel was in fact rolling his eyes as he took a large sip of his coffee. “Alright, Shakespeare. You’ve had your fun sweetheart. Now tell me I’m handsome.” He was grinning over the rim of his mug.

“Handsome? Now who the hell told you that you were handsome Hm? I don’t remember ever letting those words leave my mouth.”

“Believe you did last night. Or maybe it was some other pretty girl at the bar? Hmm.” He teased.

“Okay, okay. You’re handsome. Very handsome. Ezra’s got you beat though I’m afraid. He’ll always been the #1 man in my life cowboy.”

“Oh geez, now you got me out here competin’ with a damn horse? He’s gorgeous, I’ll give him that.”

“I’m just messing with you Joel! C’mon now. You’re a real cutie. There’s no competition, trust me babe.”

“A real cutie, huh? That’s sweet of ya t’say darlin.’ Now, where were we? Oh, right! What’re you wearin’ sweet cheeks?” He could picture your face, the little glare you would give him before swatting at his shoulder playfully.

“J O E L.”

“That would be me.”

You let out a light sigh, an apparent grin on your face from your Texas tall glass of water being his cheeky self. You pulled the phone away from your ear just so you could talk to your boys, who were all happily eating their morning grain. “Can you believe this guy? He’s such a flirt. Absolutely ridiculous.” You brought the phone back to your ear.

“Riding pants and a Star Wars Tee.” You finally told him.

Joel let out a low wolf whistle through the receiver as he leaned against the countertop in his kitchen. “Goddamn, that’s hot.”

“You sound like a horny teenager right now cowboy.” You giggled.

“You take that back right now.”

“Nah, I’m good.” You grinned.

“What’re your plans later?” He asked.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Oh? Well it’s me. I’m asking.”

“Well, in that case, I’m definitely free.” You didn’t even hesitate to respond.

“‘Atta girl. That’s what I like to hear.” He grinned.

“Uh huh. You’re lucky I think you’re cute. Pick me up at 7?”

“I’ll be there at 6:30.”

“More time for us to makeout.” You felt like a little school girl with a crush.

“Exactly what I was thinkin’ sweetheart. I’ll try and not say somethin’ stupid when I see ya. Although, you make it difficult cus’ my brain goes all fuzzy when I’m near ya.”

“You could never say something stupid Joel.”

“You’d be surprised. I say a lot of stupid shit darlin.’”

“Stupid cute shit you mean.” You corrected him.

“There you go again bein’ a real peach.”

“It’s my specialty.”

“Yeah? Think your other speciality is kissin’ me silly.” He chuckled.

“You’re so cute. Please stop it before the horses start making fun of me.”

“Never. See ya tonight, toots.”

“Catch ya on the flip side, cowboy.”

Tagging people I think would enjoy: @peterhollandkait @chaotic-mystery @korynnekorynne @lovers-liability @dinsdjrn @last-girl @wonder-harley @loquaciousferret @yazsos @death-wife

[arieswritez]

Prodigal Son

prodigal son - derek goffard x afab!reader

cw: MDNI!!!! implied & actual noncon, threats of violence & actual violence, knifeplay, unprotected sex, creampie, weird old men, abuse of power, slight sacrilege (if you squint idk i have religious trauma), derek

about: one of my derek hcs (and i have plenty ‘cause my brain is too fried to write actual fanfic) is that not only is he well known but he is actually very well liked. (~2.3k words)

a/n: this has been sitting in my private posts for the longest & it keeps getting buried under other posts so here it is before it disappears into the abyss <3 is there a second part? maybe. will it take me forever to post it? yes. xx barely read through so if there's some grammatical errors im srry ;( will be editing if needed

the public views the goffards as royal adjacent: his face plastered on nearly every magazine, listing him as the country’s most eligible bachelor. you read about the goffard brothers and their lives of luxury, private schools, boats, villas in italy, and rumoured engagements with duchesses. you remember gushing over them with your friends. . and while they seemed to like matt goffard better, your attention was on derek. getting your hands on every magazine with his face on it and following any blog dedicated to him.

however, despite how much his image sells, not much is known about derek other than the fact that he’s next in line to take over the goffard business. derek is known for many things but his personality is not one of them. 

media training may have prepared him to smile and smolder into a camera but those who really know him know that his personality is just. . off-putting. a smile that doesn’t meet the eyes, not talking or even making eye contact with anyone he considers to be “the help”.

his father has done a good job at using derek’s good looks to his advantage. he’s spent a pretty penny cleaning up his messes and his PR team has been working with derek ever since he started to become an absolute terror (around age 13).

and so, with a lot of training, derek learns how to subdue it: suppressing a sneer of disgust when someone attempts to engage him in conversation. he still finds it hard not to lash out when someone so much as brushes their shoulders against him, when he catches a whiff of the cheap cologne and/or perfume clinging to their clothing.

and when the dam eventually cracks: it's ridiculously easy to patch up. because behind that carefully curated image is a long string of accusations of harassment, hush money, NDA’s and lawsuits that’ll never see the light of day thanks to daddy dearest. derek's victims have either been intimidated into silence by the business mogul or simply disappeared off the face of the earth. 

derek's father has worked his ass off and he'd be damned if some nobodies ruin the mirage he's created.

from the outside looking in, the goffards - particularly the brothers - are just your average nepo babies. everyone fantasizes about being them. or winning the lottery and marrying into wealth.

it’s only when you meet derek that you realize the goffard empire is more of a jungle than it is a monarchy. 

it’s a busy night at the upscale restaurant you work in. and everyone tells you: "you’re lucky you’ve got this gig."

on most days, that’s hard to believe: rich snobs that treat you like you’re shit smeared beneath their shoe and don’t tip well. but that night, with the staff urgently trying to get around, you figure they may be right. . because you get derek’s table. 

lucky you &lt;3

derek is with his father, a couple business partners, and two rugged men with shifting eyes who you assume are their bodyguards. he looked like a dream in person. his usually tousled blond hair slicked back, dressed all in black. his dress shirt slightly unbuttoned: his trademark 'disheveled' look you're sure was actually carefully styled. and against his chest, you notice a plain gold chain that was undoubtedly worth more than your yearly salary.

if you thought he looked good in pictures, he looked godly in person.

you do your best to contain your excitement, trying to make a good impression when you introduce yourself. the pitch in your voice heightening - as it always does while on the clock - and you gave your best smile. his father and the other business men seem to be more. . welcoming. or at least in that awkward way old rich white men have of being patronizing and flirting with you at the same time. you couldn’t keep track of the amount of times they’ve called you ‘sweetheart’ , ‘babe’, or ‘doll’. 

derek, however, hardly looks at you. he just orders from the menu, giving you short and cutting answers when you inquire about anything, then tossing the menu in your general direction - you hadn’t finished talking - without as much as glancing at you. the menu nearly slides off the table and you feel your face heat up in embarrassment when you fumble to catch it.

and despite how you think he hardly notices you. . he does. from the corner of his eye, he watches your disheartened figure walk away, and the corner of his mouth perks up. 

he’s extremely demanding the entire night you serve him. everything you do is wrong in his eyes. the food was cold. too much salt. not enough salt.

i found your hair in the food, i’m not eating that.

you forgot the asparagus i ordered.

the steak isn't medium, it's cooked to shit.

can you do anything right? 

your brain feels like mush and the cooks are tearing you to shreds in the kitchen because they can’t get to derek themselves.

eventually, derek’s father must catch on to derek's sour attitude and asks for the check. you curse yourself. it's been a long, ego destroying night & now you’re 100% sure you’re not getting a tip.

you just bow your head and apologize for the umpteenth over your ‘subpar service’ and pick up the table’s plates. 

and as you hold back tears, you don’t notice how derek’s is missing his steak knife. 

after being glared at by half the kitchen staff - it’ll be a miracle if you still have your job come morning - you scurry into the bathroom to have a good cry.

unfortunately, derek’s been watching you like a hawk. you are quite predictable. or maybe he’s just done this to many women before you.

derek excuses himself from the table and follows you. you hadn’t done anything out of the ordinary. you weren’t special. there was nothing unique about you. and for his standards - considering he constantly had a supermodel on his dick - you were just. . plain as hell.

you just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time. which was unfortunate for you, of course, seeing as how derek figured someone the likes of you couldn’t exactly afford days off. 

and it’s exactly that that caused you to be pinned face first against one of the stalls, the steak knife pressed against your throat, your work skirt flipped over your hips, your stockings and panties torn, and his cock inside you. 

when he first attacked you, it happened so fast you didn’t catch a glimpse of who it was. 

you were washing your face, not caring if you were removing your makeup in the process: what difference did it make, anyway?

you looked up into the mirror, expecting to see bloodshot eyes and a runny nose. . only to have your head bounced off of the glass.

your ears rang.

you stumbled.

and a hand wrapped around your arm and threw you up against one of the empty stalls.

someone flattened themselves up against you, a hardness pressing against your back.

you recognized his voice first, when he hissed into your ear, 

“scream and i’ll slit your fucking throat.”

then, by scent: his expensive cologne choking you as he caged you in and jackhammered into you.

despite his stone cold demeanor towards you the entire night, his mouth stayed latched onto your skin: biting down in an attempt to smother the needy whines and moans that crawled out of his throat. you barely breathed, choking on your cries, hoping the blade wouldn’t slip in his shaking grip. 

you were no one.

just another poor little toy derek wanted to break but for some reason, you’d managed to get him all pent up. seeing you fumble around while he berated you . . and now seeing you try to stifle your cries of pain had his balls drawing up. his other hand groped your breast, the knife leaving your throat long enough for him to grab your face and make you look at him over your shoulder. 

“beg me,” he hissed. “beg me to come inside you. c’mon. . don’t you want it to be over~?” 

you sniffled, letting out a surprised cry of pain at a particularly hard thrust.

"pl-please -" you cried out, unable to get the words out between your sobbing. "please-"

"p-p-please~" he mimicked your whines in a high pitched, exaggerated way. "please what? please what, huh? fuck you harder? cut you? kill you? you want me to put you out of your fucking misery in a dirty bathroom stall?"

everything hurt, your neck was twisted at an awkward angle, your head throbbed, and the friction between your legs was unbearable. he was right, you did want it to be over.

you wanted to go home and wash his cologne out of your ruined work uniform. you wanted to hold your head underwater until the scent evaporated from within your nostrils.

or go back to the time in which you were offered this job and refuse it.

or just not show up that day.

you'd wanted to call out that night, lie about being sick and binge watch trashy television. you wanted to reach an epiphany & snap out of it, trash all the magazines with Derek's fucking face plastered all over them, and kiss your daydreams of prince charming goodbye.

but most of all, you wanted him to get it over with and finish .

so you settled with appeasing him. because he's the one with the power. the money. the fame.

and the one with a knife to your throat.

you didn't care what it might take: you just wanted him to finish. but you didn't say that. you couldn't. so, instead, you managed to whisper,

"please - cum inside me."

the blade nicked you and you swear you saw your life flash before your eyes. the sick fuck was gonna gut you before he finished, you were sure of it.

but the searing pain, the warmth of blood cascading down the valley of your chest, the bright white light promised to you by kind eyed priests and mentioned in the prayers fallen from your mother's lips - never came. instead, you felt the harsh pinch of teeth clamping down onto your shoulder, muffling a strangled shout.

derek flattened you against the stall, rutting up against you. hunched over you, he unlocked his jaw and burrowed his face at the juncture where neck meets shoulder, panting condensation into your skin as he fucked his release into you.

against better judgement, your toes curled into the ridiculous, shiny flats your manager forced you to wear. a spike of. . pleasure. . zapped up your spine as derek's cock incessantly pressed against a spot inside you, throbbing and spurting so much cum it leaked out and dripped down your thighs.

you squeezed around him and there was a soft, whimpering moan.

you weren't sure which one of you'd let it out. but the sound seemed to sober derek up. he straightened suddenly, pulling away from you.

vertigo overtook you. he didn’t catch you when your knees gave and you collapsed. you heard the jingle of a belt, a zipper going up, then, you saw him step out and over you to push the stall open.

he didn't look back at you as he went to the sink, turned on the faucet, and wet his hands, slicking his hair back once again. you caught his reflection in the mirror: a soft flush against tan skin, spreading across his face, down his neck, and to his chest where his expensive, crisp, black dress shirt had been slightly unbuttoned.

his eyes met yours in the mirror.

and you wish you could say you saw something in them. disgust. contempt. lust. but there was nothing. it was as if he'd just seen a stranger in passing. he'd barely registered your existence, looked at you like one might look at the crack of a sidewalk they always pass by on their way to work.

not at all.

and then he was gone.

and a part of you wondered if you'd just imagined it. if it was all just some fucked up dream. you could've convinced yourself, too, if it weren't for the fact that you could still feel him inside you.

you were still crying, you realized, when teardrops landed on your cracked phone screen when your shaking hands managed to grasp it.

you checked the time through blurry vision. you were almost off.

you crawled to your knees and tried to push yourself up to no avail. your vision swam. and before you could register what was happening, everything faded to black.

you were out when the bathroom door opened.

one of the rugged men that were once seated at mr.goffard's table looked down at your crumpled figure on the floor. the man didn't say anything and simply closed the door. a few moments later, the bathroom door opened again. this time, the other man joined the first. without an ounce of hesitation, one of the men gathered your unconscious body and walked out.

no one noticed.

or no one cared to watch you get hauled away and into the shiny, black limousine of the goffards. you imagined averted eyes and anxious sips of wine of fellow restaurant goers as the footsteps of the country's most powerful men passed them by. clicking cutlery and knowing looks passed between couples. what would no doubt be the gossip on their way home back to their massive, lifeless homes.

the wife would say, "poor thing," as the husband unzipped her dress. the husband would hum. and that'd be the end of it.

nothing would be done.

and whether you're ever seen again or not doesn't matter because you'll soon be forgotten. and no one's risking their lifelihood for someone as insignificant as you.

after all, no one's ever dared to say no to mr. goffard's prodigal son.