#boy why you so control issues
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anyone else ever think about how at the end of double life, pearl was fully ready and willing to kill scott. had her bow drawn and ready to shoot. but then when he lit the tnt under himself she screamed out in concern for him
#she wanted a climatic fight. she wanted catharsis#and scott denied her that in his final moments#scottpearl meta#girl why you so towers#boy why you so control issues
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everyone give me a pat on the back for not losing my shit and snapping at my mom because I would've been 100% justified in doing so because what she said was deeply fucked up and unfair to me
#🌕.gwynn#yes I'm still on this#why would you victim blame your kid? after constantly assuring him that you understand what he's going through?#genuinely I do not understand how some abuse victims just start to take their issues out on other abuse victims#like your issues around treating every single day like it's fucking ww2 is not my problem#I do not need to fix myself immediately#I'm not in danger now#so you're not protecting me you're just controlling me#there's a chain around my neck and I'm just handing it from one person to the next#or whatever that bitch from the boys said about frenchie#whatever I'm pretty sure I'm about to cough up blood so#end post
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the higher-ups (and Yaga) immediately trying to leverage Gojo & Ieri's absence to put Yuuta on the roster??? God that's such a stark moment. Thank god Nanami and Gojo saw through that one immediately, because Yuuta wants to justify his own survival so badly he would've fallen straight into it.
That whole scene, with Yuuta immediately jumping on the opportunity to help people even though something is Extremely Wrong with him and he's on the brink of physical collapse--this boy is selfless to the point of self destruction and I am chewing the drywall about it. I love him so much.
If only he was able to summon his newly found homicidal rage in defense of himself, the higher-ups would no longer be a problem. Alas, this boy is Extremely Unwell.
(Sea Glass Gardens is absolutely incredible and i am obsessed with it in a way that is totally and 100% normal. I'm so normal about it, trust me <3 )
The thing about Yuuta is that he really is prime to be taken advantage of right now and the higher ups know it. They had him try to kill himself for them--they know that there's a window of opportunity that they can use to get him under their thumb and avoid The Problem of Gojo, which is, namely, having a human weapon who you cannot fully control. Gojo nailed it from the beginning: they want a magic gatling gun with no personality or free will. They learned their lesson with Gojo and are trying to rob Yuuta of his agency before he learns how to protect himself.
And Yaga's part in that scene really was meant to kind of emphasize how, even with the best intention's, he just doesn't work to protect the kids. Like. everything he said was technically true, and he meant it with the best of intentions. He's the guy who has to think of everyone's needs. he has to manage this crisis. he's got a lot of people hurt badly who just came out of a war, and a lot of people going into fights with some very aggravated curses spawning without sufficient manpower to address the danger and no healer to save them if they cut it a little too close. He didn't have the intention of manipulating or sacrificing Yuuta, but he was aware that it would come to his detriment and risk.
The issue is the higher ups. They don't give a shit about the people in their workforce. They should be the ones doing whatever it takes to solve this crisis and save their people--and if that means giving up on their machinations? They should have already done it. It's their responsibility.
They just don't care. They want Okkotsu Yuuta under their thumb, and their society hemorrhaging is treated like an opportunity, not a dire problem to be solved. They don't care if half a dozen of their own people need to die to do it. Hell, it's better if they do die--they can put it straight on Okkotsu for not being willing to sacrifice himself, when they should have been making whatever promises they had to in order to make this work.
Gojo's done this before, is the thing. He was Yuuta, a long time ago. Nanami was right there watching it happen. They both know what the higher ups do: They let society get to a crisis level and put all the responsibility on you to save it. they let you maneuver yourself into a vulnerable position as a result, and then they use it as leverage to put their goddamn boot on your neck.
The thing is that Gojo adopting megumi all those years ago really did put them into a crisis state. the zenin pitched the mother of all bitch fits trying to secure his unconditional return, and they were a huge percentage of jujutsu society's labor force and resource pools. instead of the higher ups managing the problem at all, they took advantage of the situation and shoved more and more of its weight and responsibility onto gojo, until he was dropping off his own kid at his abusers' compound thinking it was the only compromise that could resolve things. megumi paid the price for gojo not calling bullshit, and right now, with him in a hospital bed? gojo's less willing to repeat mistakes than ever.
he knows that they're going to use the safety and suffering of everyone else as the leverage against him, and he knows that as terrible as it is, he cannot blink first. He's played this game before, and he knows that the only way to get the higher ups to back off on something like this is to dig in your heels.
I think what happened to Megumi all those years ago and how bad it got before they put a stop to it is something that haunts all three of them. When they first started raising him, they were very young, and they were very broken, and they loved him very, very much. He was their little boy, and he was never the same after the Zenin. They were supposed to protect him, and they didn't, and not a single one of them has forgiven themselves for that.
Megumi was sort of sacrificed for the greater good when he was a kid. None of them thought that that was what they were doing when it happened, but that's what happened. His happiness, safety, and wellbeing were sacrificed to pacify the Zenin and make it easier on everyone else.
Megumi and Tsumiki had to become their non-negotiables after. They had to become the things they refused to compromise on. The Zenin would take miles and miles if you gave them a millimeter, let alone an inch.
Gojo didn't think he was compromising them when he left them on their own to deal with Geto's war. They were disgustingly self-sufficient kids. They had been alone for longer stretches of time when they were practically toddlers--they should have been fine on their own for a couple of weeks.
But they were still his kids, and he still left them alone for everyone else's sake, and now his kid is blind and half dead in a hospital bed. It's like being punched in the face by old mistakes.
So they're off the roster completely, all of them. And they're not compromising an inch on what their focus is, and they're not letting anything happen to any of the other kids in their care.
It's terrible that their coworkers are suffering, but it wouldn't be happening if the Zenin hadn't fucked with Gojo Satoru's kid, of all the goddamn people. It wouldn't be happening if the higher ups would actually do their job and start managing shit.
And if they use Yuuta as an anxiety riddled bandaid on the bullet hole in their society? Then they'd be sacrificing him the way they sacrificed Megumi all those years ago. And they have never been less willing to do that.
I'm so so glad you like the story! Thank you for talking with me!
#i think gojo has such a big emphasis on giving kids the tools to protect themselves because no one ever did that for him or geto#geto snapped under the pressure and was lost to gojo forever#Gojo repeatedly focuses on giving the kids the tools to enjoy their childhood without being hurt#like with yuuji--he doesn't want him to sacrifice his youth and happiness with the others#so he focuses on giving him the strength to protect himself when gojo isn't there#in my mind that's also why gojo was always trying to feed yuuji the fingers#like when i first started the series it seemed kind of weird to me because gojo very obviously didn't want yuuji dead#until i realized that yuuji canonically had a good chance at suppressing sukuna even at 20 fingers as long as he had them spaced out#if yuuji had sukunas power level and had gotten it in increments eventually the higher ups couldnt touch him and hed still be under control#honestly none of the adults are doing well right now#a little under a decade ago the issue with the zenin came to a head and megumi ended up being very small and very hurt in a hospital bed#and they promised him that it would never happen again#now he looks very small and very hurt and he's in a hospital bed and the zenin put him there#as much as he's an angry teenager who hates displays affection he really is their little boy and they adore him#nanami was the one who took him from the zenin the final time all those years ago and he personally promised megumi that he would never eve#go back to that place. he feels like a complete failure right now.#gojo always blamed himself for not digging in his heels and refusing the custody compromise and now he's FURIOUS that this happened under#his nose a second time. i think gojos really interesting in the hero role because he's canonically low empathy and struggles with homicidal#impulses and let me tell you he thought about just killing all the zenin back then and he's REALLY thinking about it right now. there's one#fucking way of making sure this never happens again.#shoko generally feels like shit because this is supposed to be the one thing she can do to help and she /can't/ do it right now to help#megumi. also she privately thinks she had the most opportunity to realize how bad it was with the zenin back then and /didn't/.#she was going through a lot of her own issues back then and the zenin had some kind of believable excuses for why megumi was always banged#up. like. he was already getting into fights at school. its not like the zenin had issues procreating. they said he was picking fights#with other kids and that's where he got hurt. they actually blamed maki more than once. and some bruises here and there is expected for a#kid in combat training even at what was meant to be a very preliminary level. he was supposed to be in like. kiddie karate classes and they#didn't realize the zenin were training him like a fucking marine. it was SO obvious in hindsight and that tortures them.#protecting yuuta right now kind of feels like a chance to get it right the first time and all of them need that now that they feel like the#fucked it up with megumi a second time#sea glass gardens
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there’s a progression in there, somewhere, of even going from ‘the master might kill me any day now :(‘ to ‘the master is going to kill me :) she’s not going to let someone else do it after all this time’
#i wouldn’t call it hubris exactly. more like this pretty secure surity that that’s how they’re going to die.#and to them that makes sense. they chose this. they keep choosing it after the doctor offers them a way out.#because this is. they understand this. and they feel safe in the reprieve before their death.#how do you control death? choose who kills you. the last defense of a prey animal.#something something dark mirror to clara’s ‘i am owed’ speech for even is if this ever. doesn’t work out the way they thought it would.#clara tried to threaten the doctor so that he’d reverse death for her. even would turn on the master if she tried to spare them.#i am owed better. i am owed the death you promised… i am owed the knowledge that you don’t care enough to save me… you know. something like#that.#even is. kind of. meant to mirror the doctor’s companions at the time. they are a martha who can’t leave him. they are a donna who has to#remember and never speak about everything they know. they are clara if during deep breath clara reached back and truly didn’t expect. truly#hoped. that no one would take her hand. because if they can be certain it will happen they can know never to reach again.#jesus christ. go to therapy boy. you have so many trust issues.#but that’s why they’re Like That with the master because at the end of the day. who is easier to rely on? the guy who comes in to put out#fires but only sometimes. or the guy who. really really fucking likes starting fires.#better to get burned hoping someone is coming or get burned knowing that’s what would happen. and even. chooses the latter.#AND ALL OF THIS. for me to say thats why i cant actually let the master ever kill them.#i think she needs to do something worse to even. i think she needs to abandon them.#and that will either set them free to go have healthy normal relationships or. lets be honest much more likely. completely fucking break#them. which would be fun :) for me.#dw oc
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The issue that arises when a game gets super popular is that other developers will try to make games in that style, by taking the basis of the game (ex. Open world, rougelike) without thinking about or realizing what the game does well that makes it popular
#ITS NOT ABOUT THE BIGGEST WORLD I DONT WANT A BIG WORLD I WANT A FULL WORLD#I DONT WANT EMPTY PATCHES I WANT BIG TOWNS I WANT RUINS I WANT QUESTS#game criticism#raven croaks#yes this is about botw and totk but also about splatoon side order#because it's a rougelike that's not replayable. and that's the issue. like the devs understood-#rougelike = start over when die. Rougelite = permanent upgrades when die. but didn't understand to add enough variety to make us wanna keep#playing. you get 5 options: Chase the boys. portals: tower control: splat zones: 8 ball#on the same few floors. once you've done one you've done them all really#i've 100% it for bragging rights and because i was delusional at the time#Crypt of the necrodancer is my favorite rougelike. why do i love it so much? because every run is different#every floor is randomly generated. now you can't really do that with 3d environments so you gotta make enough#to have variety so players don't get bored right#and when you don't you get side order. sigh.#i'm going to bed now
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real
#this is so mind numbingly exhausting i don't understand how everyone else seems to just do it?#it was such a weird day#started out in a good mood but then boss scolded these two interns cause of a mistake#and like he wasn't shouting exactly but he raised his voice and said so many things like you are so careless im suffering so many losses bc#bc of you outsiders are going to think i don't have a good team and i don't have control over my team#and how we should always note things down because we're so distracted and not serious#and how before going home everyday we should report to him what work we did today#i understand that he's being reasonable (maybe? idk) but it sounded so eerily horribly like my dad i couldn't function properly for an hour#why are men so similar everywhere#why am i SO scared i could feel the disappointment radiating off him and he wasn't even mad at me and i felt like a failure#which is so embarrassing like girl stop you are a 20 year old adult woman you will not cry at your workplace because an angry man triggered#your dad issues#and upar se there was a new intern at work one year younger than me and oh my god he was so annoying#like i talked to him first bc i pitied him like what if he felt alone it was only his second day but boy literally could not stop talking😭#like ok it's kinda cool that this senior di she trusted me enough to be like you teach him this project report this when ive only been#here for 3 weeks but bhai😭 he's so annoying 😭 i have newfound respect for the di how does she handle all 7-8 of us interns i would go#crazy and shout at everyone and tell them to leave me alone 😭 but she's so patient and kind and answers dumb questions 100 times#but she's leaving this office permanently from next month bc of her ca final :( i mean very good for her she deserves better more money#better work hours better office etc. but :(( she's leaving :((#as you can see i have both dad issues and abandonment issues so fun lol
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This is why Zionists spent months spreading lies and propaganda about rabid Palestinian men going on a raping spree against any innocent Jewish woman they could see on October 7th, to perpetuate this narrative that sexual violence committed by Palestinians against Israelis is a serious wide-spread issue because Palestinian men (or just brown men in general) are savage animals who breath and live solely for raping women, when in reality its the other way around.
By doing so, they embedded this caricature about Palestinian/Arab men into people's mind that makes them view them inherently as rapists, but never in a million year as a rape victim and that if they don't quickly rush to "condemn" these fake evidence-less rape allegations (not a single of each have been proven to happen by any reliable sources) then they're terrible people and rape-supporting anti-semites. Needless to say, those same people are definitely NOT in any rush to condemn these actually proven and verified rape cases by Israeli settlers.
All of which makes it easier for Zionists to continue their decades long history of sexual violence against Palestinians by having these concentration camps where Palestinian men and boys, just like Palestinian women and girls, regularly go through horrendous forms of torture and sexual abuse that don't receive a fraction of the attention, disclosure, sympathy and condemnation as all of those fake and already-debunked cases of Israeli women being brutally raped by Palestinian men, because everyone has decided that rape is something that's always committed by (brown) men and its victims are always (white) women.
This isn't anything new or exclusive to only Palestinian men, on top of the Israeli concentration camps, many innocent Muslim and Middle Eastern men over the years who have been subjugated through demeaning torture and sexual assault in other concentration camps such as Abu Ghraib or Guantanamo with no consequences for the perpetuators. Not even when we have real documented footage of those sexual crimes, that are literally posted online by the American or Israeli rapist-soldiers (often female soldiers) where they're shown smiling and laughing with their faces clearly seen as they torture the prisoners, because they know that as long as the victim is a Palestinian/Arab/Muslim man, there will be no consequences for them or any justice for their victims.
And people will just go on believing the notion that all Middle Eastern men are sexually-deprived raping machines who can't control themselves when they see a woman showing her ankle, when in reality foreigners occupiers and soldiers target them as much as they do to Middle Eastern women and subjugate them to the same level of sexual crimes, yet those foreigner occupiers and soldiers are never the ones who get associated with the words "rapist" or "terrorist" despite their long documented history of rape and other sexual crimes.
Find a protest near you here: X, X, X, X & X
Donate or join Palestine action here: PALESTINE ACTION
#gaza#palestine#palestinian#palestinians#anti israel#anti israeli#anti israelis#anti zionist#anti zionists#anti zionisim#anti idf#anti iof
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andrew is so real for thinking neil is a hallucination cos now that we have outsider pov on him it's actually insane that he's a real person. like this is neil josten: he's the prettiest boy you've ever met. he's the runaway son of a serial killer. he has a million dollars but is afraid of spending money. he folds his clothes a specific way so he can tell when someone's gone through his stuff. he keeps a stalker's journal on the two greatest exy players of all time. he wears coloured contacts and they're brown. he paid a busboy $100 to knock him out cold. he insulted a celebrity athlete on live tv after trying to keep a low profile. he says he's trying to stay alive while running towards death like it's a race. he mouths off to the mafia. he respects your boundaries and is the first person ever to take you at face value and not consider you an out of control psychopath. he orders hits on your abusers. he has the most electric blue eyes you've ever seen. he looks great in clubbing clothes but dresses like he's homeless. he insults someone for their "intricate and endless daddy issues" while his father is a convicted mobster and serial killer. he didn't give a fuck when his teammate was killed. everyone seems to like him even though it's clear he's hiding a million secrets. he doesn't catch on to the many many hints you're giving him. he calls you out not for being a danger to others but for being a danger to yourself. he thinks you should be protected as well as trusting you to protect him (and you think, how can someone be a victim and a protector?). he doesn't give a flying fuck what literally anyone thinks about him. he comes back from being waterboarded and tortured and abused for weeks (to protect you) and is still as feisty and bitchy as before. except now he's a redhead and has many more scars. he is possibly the first person to ever make the active decision to protect you. he's willing to put himself in harm's way again and again and again so he won't lose you. he always has a cigarette but he never smokes. he says "you're not actually a sociopath are you?" and "the next time someone calls you soulless i might have to fight them". even though he's messy and a little oblivious he's sees you. he might be the only person to ever want you off your drugs. he wants to see you lose control, is aware that you're not out of control, you're actually so controlled and restrained all of the time and he wants to see you feel something, he wants you to be angry, be angry at him. he riles you up on purpose to see you show emotion, feel something. he's a runner and yet he's still possibly the bravest person you've ever met. he gets kidnapped and comes back even more bruised and battered than before and he's still a mouthy little shit who bitches at the press and cuts deals with the yakuza. he's most of the reason why the worst team in the nation ends up winning championships. he shoves a guy clean off his feet because they body checked you. he punched celebrity athlete riko moriyama in public, for you. he threatens him, for you. he's almost killed on live tv. he mouths off to the fbi. he watches the (second) best exy player in the world get shot. he also watches his father, notorious serial killer and gangster, get shot in front of him. and he laughs. he smiles. he kisses you and is never gonna run again and he's free and he wants to be with you, he wants you.
#neil josten how are you real#he really is a pipe dream#neil josten the man that you are#i love him your honour#aftg#all for the game#the sunshine court#tsc#neil josten#andrew minyard#andreil#zoe yaps
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pygmalion au // rafe cameron x reader
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summary ; “ you love someone you can shape, who has no will to escape. ” artist!rafe x muse!reader.
warnings ; unsafe feelings. slight of angst. smut. kind of fantasy/magic. art glorification. attachment issues. innocent!reader. fear of losing somebody. first time. rafe being a lost boy. dubcon. pygmalion' weird story. toxic!rafe. mentions of drugs. oral (m. receiving). p in v. insecurities. praising. artist hands appreciation. minors DNI.
author's note : 3,5 k words for this. one-shot. also a lot of tummy appreciation (tysm @shawtycoreee 🫶🏿). out of the smut, i tried to write it so poetic 😭🤟🏿
— “ wrap me up, enfold me. i am small and needy. warm me up and breathe me. ” breathe me by sia.
it was alone and late at night that rafe cameron began to create you, not really knowing at the time he started his art what work you would produce. he only cut the stone with his hands. before forming your body, he fantasized about it internally, not really knowing what a woman's anatomy actually looked like. you were like a crazy dream he was trying to sort out, a fantasy he was trying to make real. he sculpted with his straight calloused and tired hands, manipulating the fragile and sensitive material with precision.
he hated doing badly, but it was what he did best. as he worked, he sank into his own fascination. you were magnificent, no, you were divine, the glorious treasure from his hands. it was scary and breathtaking. he had never done anything so beautiful, never created anything so charming. you had this firm, seductive chest, completely bare and hard, the movement of the stone making your belly round and chubby. you were carved in marble, an inanimate statue that had found favor in the eyes of his creator.
when he had finished your face,
he had been amazed but above all frightened by what his fingers had achieved. he had given shape to your lips, your nose, your mouth and your eyes. and now that you had a look, it was like you were confronting him. because now that you had pupils, you could look at him too, you could judge him too. you could be as superior as him, but also equal to his worth.
you were his most beautiful work of art, literally his ethereal and angelic muse. and above all, you made him nervous. not only were you realistic, but you were a woman, you were like one of the goddesses from greek mythology, completely naked.
it was unexpected, but he had knelt before you, before your altar, on his legs and his hands. he was so white and desperate like a lost sinner having only his god to pray and glorify in order to survive.
you had seen his lips part in a prayer, his mouth tighten in a whisper. and you had ears, certainly made of stone, but you had heard it. you had heard his wish lost in the void. yet he had nothing of a believer, you could hardly imagine this man on the benches of a church, but you were also cruelly incapable of seeing and understanding who he really was.
when he stood up, you felt his hands on your skin, the coldness of his ring, but also the awkwardness of his touch. you could tell it was the first time he touched someone intimately, because he didn't really know where to put his hands but he also didn't know how to touch you without destroying you.
rafe cameron was not a god. he could break anything he touched. and maybe that was why he was so nervous and pathetic. you belonged to him now that he had created you so he refused to lose you without even knowing you.
he had hoped that god would make you a real woman, because you were perfect, too sublime to be just a piece of stone.
he didn't need to pull himself up to reach you, he was much taller, more intimidating in terms of size. he could lift you up and control you with just one hand.
you looked so alive so why, why did he only hear one heartbeat in the room? why was he alone breathing in this cold and empty room? why did you only have life in appearance?
you could feel in his look that he was questioning, that he was troubled, that all the beauty of his blue eyes was overwhelmed. but you had also felt his face so close to yours, his breath fanning across your molded lips. he had been hesitant, but his mouth had finally found yours.
and you surprised yourself by loving the taste of his pretty lips, but above all by being able to touch it.
and it was like that kiss had been real enough of how he felt about you that god had decided to give him a chance.
you had sensed all the ivory of your body, of your muscles, becoming sublimely gorgeous, all your stone beauty becoming human and alive. as if his devotion had allowed you to be free and to exist.
when he felt your mouth melt on his, he pulled back in fear. you weren’t supposed to be real even if he wanted you to be. since when did statues come to life?
"oh fuck, what's going on here?... i think i'm going crazy...all that fucking coke…”
“you created me.” you replied, slightly hurt by his reaction because he was supposed to be happy.
"no, you're not supposed to be alive. i mean, you're art, you can't be human."
“i’m human!” you contradicted, stepping forward from your marble base.
rafe wasn't sure if it was a nightmare or a dream. but his gaze was anchored on you, he couldn't take every inch of his eyes off your body. he was magnetized by your magnificence.
you came just close enough to take his hand and place it against your chest. “don’t be cold to me. don’t leave me. what would i do without you? you can't reject me. you need me. ”
maybe that was the game changer for rafe cameron. because he had just understood that since you were his, you belonged to him, you were entirely dependent on him. you couldn't escape, and above all, you had no desire to.
he could do what he wanted, you were like a doll created to respond to the slightest of his favors without ever complacent. you were not only perfect but unimaginable.
” be on your knees for me.”
and the next second, you were staring at him waiting for another order.
"mmh...i know your body by heart. i shape all of this. but you have never seen mine. no worry, i'm going to fix that, okay? you're going to please me tonight and not make me regret 'have given you life?”
you nodded in agreement and he smiled because you were too innocent, too sweet for someone like him. he had unzipped his pants, making them fall to his legs like his boxers.
and it was the first time you saw a naked man in front of you, but it was also fair for you because you had no clothes. “let me help you…” he offered with a smirk. his thumb had rolled over your lips, creating a slight slit between them. “ you need to open that pretty mouth wider...” he added, taking advantage of your vulnerability to use you.
"you know it will only hurt if you don't relax. so don't be tense. because even if it's big, you're gonna take it, doll. not gonna be easy on you because it's your first time. show me what you can do baby, let me feel how grateful you are for your creator. "
he had pushed his tip against your lips, forcing his way into your mouth, making you open bigger to accommodate his cock in your cavity. it was new to you, and you weren't even sure if you could satisfy him because it was the first time you had done something like that, and especially used your mouth in that way.
you thought this area was used to create intimacy between people, not to do dirty things.
“baby, i really appreciate how sweet you can be, but don’t let me do all the work…” he had scoffed. and your heart skipped a beat when he shoved himself further in your mouth, so much so that you felt him hit the back of your throat, all the speed of his harshly strokes leaving you breathless.
you choked on his movements, saliva pooling and dripping between the corners of your enlarged lips. “that’s what happens when you don’t do your part of the job properly…” his tone was falsely accusatory as you couldn’t catch your breath from his pace. he had no pity, you had turned on him too much. and to fix it, he blamed you by harassing your throat with his fat cock.
"but since you leave me no choice, let me show you how to be a good girl for me..." he had plugged your nose, pinching it hard, forcing you to take him entirely, without being able to breathe. his length swallowed in and out, your tongue barely able to support his weight which grew as he bullied your lips.
you belonged to him so he didn’t care if he ruined you a little. he told himself that he would repair you.
he released your nose when he felt you were about to pass, with a sadistic giggle. your eyes were wet with tears. “oh baby, don’t give me that look, you’re wasting your time, i don’t feel pity. ”
you continued to pump him until your jaw arched tighten and become more tense. he pulled out for a moment, spitting in your tongue, before using your throat again. his grunts were frantic and rapid, hot breaths in sync with the pornographic sounds that emanated from your sucking. his large palm was wrapped around the back of your neck, controlling your posture. “ give me that sweet eyes again, and i will make them cry.”
he took so much pleasure in watching you swallow him hard, grunting every time he entered your throat hoping to relax it but causing the opposite effect. "'ot finished. take those balls too." he had pulled back to lift his painfully throbbing dick and place it against his stomach, you had started to lick them, letting your tongue work the entire surface, coating them with saliva. "feel? how full they are. they're gonna stuff you real bad. " you sucked on them when he pushed them directly into your mouth, making him let out throaty sounds. your mouth felt so good, he wondered if your pussy would be just as her.
between your legs, it was completely soaked. your sloppy slit dripping onto the floor. it wasn’t like rafe was ignoring that mess. he was just purely mesmerized by your lips, by the way you cupped his balls so well, and how his cock reacted to each of your licks.
you were definitely his best work. it was more than art, it was heavenly. he was incapable of not using you after creating you. he had his urges, and you had to respond to them.
he had started fisting his length, leaving you lapping at his genitals dangling above your face. the cum had gushed through the air, landing on you. he had rubbed his trailing tip on your cheeks, giving a new color to your skin.
he wondered if you were human enough to feel all this degradation. in a short movement, he had placed you in front of the standing mirror of the workshop, and had driven his body against yours. he spat into his hand before jerking off a little, pressing the head of his cock against your sticky dirty folds.
he placed his arm across your stomach, one hand gripping one of your breast, pressing it more firmly once lodged inside you and grunted as he felt how tight you were, how hard your pussy stretched in his path. thanks to the mirror, he could see each of your reactions, but above all, see your part pumped each of his inches. all his size had disappeared between your flowing walls.
your twitching cunt clenched around his girth, your canal squeezing him. his thrusts were merciless, burrowing into your soiled folds. rafe rocked his hips roughly, as his dick bullied your puffy core. he wondered how a loser like him could have created a goddess like you. and he was desperate to know if he could make you stupid, if his cock that destroyed and filled you was good enough for someone like you.
you had created a mess and frustration in him.
he was in love with the bouncing flesh on your tummy against his arm, your tits swaying when you took him. it was a grace.
he reached out and hit your spot every time he buried himself inside you, his face sank in your left shoulder. you could feel the strands of his hair against your skin, his mouth against your collarbone. you were his, he was fucking you like this. you were only alive when he touched you. you could feel his obsession and adoration in every thrusts, no matter how brutal they were. it was his way of showing you that you couldn't escape him and that you could never.
his rhythm was hard, as your pudgy tummy jiggled under his strong fingers who were digging into you. you were so giddy, fucked like a ragdoll not able to said if it was the butterflies that make your stomach spiraling, or that thick dick shoved inch by inch further into your messy slick. his other digits at your clit, massaging the small and eager bud. he was big enough to maneuver you and embraced your small frame with his muscular biceps.
you were too little, too fragile underneath him.
he was your creator, he gave you air but he could also take it away from you. you were completely dependent, not only you, but every crumb of your body. he was pounding into you with the inability to detach his cock from your fluffy pussy. he loved hearing your voice choked with tears and moans against his ear. it was a sweet melody, a symphony.
your body was perfect, straddling his, your skin slapping his. your lips gurgling around his fingers that you could no longer take without dropping them, because of his violent assaults. you drooled all over your mouth, struggling with the drool that splashed all over his hand.
you couldn't see anything anymore, it was blurry. you didn't even feel tired anymore, you felt like a stupid doll, unable to think and reflect, only able to take this cock nastily harassing you and stretching you violently.
with his muscular and heavy hand on your throat, he forced you to look at the mirror. there was something incredible and perfect in his hands, and you knew it from the moment he started sculpting you. they were so good and incredible, covered with veins that systematically bulged. they captured your belly fat well. “don’t hide this from me. it’s my property.”
he had harpooned your flesh between his fingers, making it move and hang down more as he fucked you senseless.
“if i shaped you like that, that meant i wanted you like that.” your tummy was caged in his grasp. “ i mean, look at that belly, it's all beauty, i swear.”
he had moved his hand to the lower part of your stomach, pressing that area of your skin, feeling his bulge farther in you. in this corner of the room, there was only you and him, only your whimpers against his fingers and the pleasure you felt. there was only this mirror that stared at you and reflected you in the darkness with the only light of the moon as a beacon.
you were divine, you had the perfect body of a goddess. and even having cum with you, even causing your third orgasm, he didn't want to pull out. it was as if he was afraid of the emptiness he expected after this. and maybe you too were dreading the emptiness inside you after he filled you up so well, your soaked pussy dripping with his cum, drooling all over the floor.
he had finally taken it out, his fingers entering you to collect his mixture and place it against your lips. “don’t let it go to waste.”
you had cleaned his fingers until they were pure again.
he had his eyes on you, like a human in front of art.
he still didn't realize. but he refused to let you escape. but it wasn't like you could. he had created a home here, all over this room and in you. he had established a domain in every inch of your skin. he only had to see you to know that you were his own creation.
you kissed him, slightly awkwardly but he made up for it with his mouth on yours. “you can’t abandon me.” he whispered. “i don’t want to abandon you.”
and it felt good to hear your words. you didn't know him well enough, or not really, to know how sick he was. but you felt grateful that he gave you life, because it was priceless. he had made you, and you were his.
“ what are you doing?” when you felt chains encircling your wrists, you weren’t sure if you liked it. "i really want to believe in you sweetheart but i also can't trust anyone. you have legs, you can run away from me but with this metal, you're stuck.”
“i don’t really like it…” you admitted and he replied “no one likes it but the difference is that you don’t really have a choice either. you're mine. your feelings, your body, your eyes, all of that is mine. even that pouty sweet face of yours. ”
you turned your head to let him know that you didn't appreciate it, and to give him the silent treatment. and he smiled. “it doesn't kill me, baby. you can pout. ”
you didn’t respond. "you really want to give me this treatment? maybe you really don't want me to be nice to you after all..."
he had smiled. “"okay...I'll give you what you want." he had disappeared for a few minutes before coming back with an object that you couldn't identify. " what is this ? "
"now, baby wants to talk...but it's a little too late, i'm making the rules here so...say hello to your new favorite toy. it's a gagball.”
you didn't feel it was useful until the ball went into your mouth and stopped you from speaking. you could only drool and grumble around the object.
"why that face, baby? that's not what you wanted? i swear you still look pretty. just quieter. i'm going to go to sleep. and tomorrow you'll show me how sorry you are for that attitude. you want to know if i would forgive you? maybe it would be too easy, you understand? you have all night to prepare excuses and they better please me because i can be even more creative than that to punish you. “
the next day he woke up in a good mood. and above all, you were always there.
he had picked up the bottle of water from his table, wondering if you were thirsty. but when he arrived in front of you, he changed his mind. he used it to wake you up.
"i'm so clumsy...sorry, baby." but there wasn't an ounce of regret in his voice so you knew he was joking. you learned to read his face.
“you know how sorry i am…” he added, facing your gaze.
“you’re not…”
"yes, right. such a clever baby. are you thirsty?”
" yes..."
“maybe if you show me how good and nice you are today, i can consider bringing you another bottle.”
"what do you want..."
“it’s not what i want, sweetheart. but what you will do to satisfy me. see the small difference ? ”
it had been several weeks, a month in fact, since the day of your creation. you had spent your time in this workshop, chained to this wall. you were only alone when rafe left, when he left you in the shadows.
in fact, he was clearly having fun with you. you were dependent on his affection, and he knew it. you reacted to the slightest attention he gave you, even the most mean and bad. but above all you were incapable of hating rafe cameron.
he had made you a magnificent creature, a living human, you would be even crueler than him if you hated him.
after all, you were his muse. he had the right to use you. that was also the thought he had drilled into your brain.
everything he did was for you. and you should be grateful.
but sometimes he wondered, if he killed you, would you come back to life? was there magic in you or was he just in a fucking wonderful dream? he did enough coke to get high for days but this time it lasted too long for it to be fake.
your relationship was strange because sometimes you felt loved, especially when he hugged you after being rough with you, his palm gently caressing your back. like any human, there was tenderness in him. he could be nice. he knew how to be one but that didn't mean he enjoyed being one. he just thought that if he was too mean, you would disappear.
and that was not something he could tolerate. during all this time spent with you, he had not learned, no, he had not succeeded, to live without you.
artists brought art to life, but art gave meaning to the artists' lives.
before you, he was alone.
he had prayed for you. he needed you. it was his final call.
rafe cameron fell in love with you before he created you, before he even imagined you.
and maybe that was why he was so mean to you, because he never knew love, so how can you blame him for not knowing if you loved him back or make fun of him?
he was pathetic, full of rage and violence. but you couldn't hate him, because you and him shared the same tears. the same pain.
he made you, and you made him. he was afraid and you were scared. you wanted someone to love you, and he wanted someone that could love him.
“ i swear, y/n. don't leave me alone. even when you looked away, you make me feel like a monster when i'm not. so please, do the same as me. ”
“ what ? ”
“ don't make me feel like somebody else exists. i'm the only world you can live in. ”
#wtf is wrong with me#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron oneshot#obx fic#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron smut#rafe x reader#rafe x y/n#rafe x you#pygmalion#x reader#mean!rafe#mean!rafe x reader#obx smut#obx fanfiction#characters x reader#greek mythology#rafe cameron concepts#rafe cameron prompt#dividers by plutism#slight angst#oneshot#smut#rafe prompt#obx au#smut and angst#rafe cameron scenarios
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aro scott is literally one of the best headcanons ever it explains so much about him
#guy who is never truly happy except for the series where he had close trusting and explicitly nonromantic partnerships#boy why you so control issues
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THROUGH OUR LORD AND SAVIOR @yanderereblogs THE FACULTY HAVE BEEN FOYND AND RETURNED TO US! PRAISE BE TO REBLOGGERS, SUPPORT YOUR LOCAL ARCHIVISTS!
Yandere Boarding School Part 2, (Faculty)
18+ Minors DNI
Warnings: Multiple yanderes, non-con touching, dub-con, perverted thoughts, obsession, bullying, masturbation, aphrodisiacs, general perversion, dry-humping, voyeurism, controlling behaviors, typical yandere stuff, breeding, smoking, horny posting.
(AN: Part Two has been reuploaded after a takedown, godspeed @yanderereblogs for saving it! Mmmmmm, old men. Everyone pictured as a student is OF LEGAL AGE TUMBLR MODS HOP OFF MY DICK.
Background: Thinking about a Headmasters Son or Daughter!Reader at a private boarding school. For a Fem!Reader, perhaps you're just visiting daddy for the season while he's running the school, or maybe you've been bad, and need more supervision. For a Masc!Reader, it could be the same case, however, with Ridgemoore Academy being an all male school, this makes it easier to imagine a world where reader is allowed in the school. Now, let's focus on the faculty...
◇ Mr. Joel Murphy, who teaches the majority of the 'life skills' classes at the school. The school being all-boys is very traditional, and teaches things like game hunting and orienteering, which is why they hired a manly-man like Joel. If only they knew what a bitter grump he is. An ex-sheriff of the nearby town, he decided to leave the force after realizing there was no real crime in the small, privileged town, and decided to take up an easy job at the school. Unfortunately, he realized his love for camping and hunting is warped into what he considers 'frilly shit for rich little boys'. He's gruff, barking out orders and easily been exasperated at the sheer incompetence of the boys.
"Shoot one quail, and these boys act like they killed a bear..."
He thought about retiring from yet another job, as living on the ritzy campus just doesn't feel like home to him, and lord knows he's not fond of his job. However, things change when you arrive. Whether you're a delinquent or a little more sweet and obedient, he likes you. If you're a delinquent, he likes seeing a little hell-raiser kick up some shit at the fancy school. If you're sweet or shy, he gets protective. Nice youngins' like you shouldn't be thrown in amongst these spoiled weasels.
He's sure to help you if you need it, a gentle hand on your back as his burly chest presses against your shoulder blades, adjusting your position against the butt of a rifle. Standing by while you're on hands and knees trying to light a fire, making sure none of the boys are trying to get a look at your assessts. Not that he isn't going to, but he justifies it to himself as just making sure your school shorts/skirt is regulation. He's protecting your modesty. After class hours, come to him with any issues, or shit, even his room. He'll put on some coffee and ask you to help him create a curriculum that 'reaches the kids', as your father instructed him to. It's cozy, the fancy school adnorments thrown away for medals and plaques, national parks posters and a few old family photos. He'll keep you tucked in on his warm couch while he strays from curriculum talk to stories of his time in the scouts and on the force. Tells you about how much he loves just... laying out under the stars with somebody special, to sit around a campfire with friends, then slyly ask is you've ever had somebody to do that with. He knows you're younger than him, and he struggles with the idea that you won't want him cause of it, so for now, he'll bask in the feeling of seeing you curled up in his room, keeping the idea of picking you up and having you accept his cock to himself. If you can get pregnant, his fists his cock to the thought of that too. He's not some horned up boy, he wants you in the long term.
He looooooves the yearly orienteering final, in which the students in the class are made to go on an actual camping trip. It's possible a tent will 'accidentally' go missing, leaving you to bunk with him. Don't worry, nothing bads gonna happen while you've got this burly bear of a man practically spooning you, warm gut from his dad-bod pressed against you as he tries his best to make sure he doesn't scare you.
"Sorry those damn boys left your tent back at the school, kiddo. I... wouldn't be suprised of one of them did it on purpose, little bastards." He grumbles, hoping you'll take the hint to separate yourself from those immature preps and stick to being with a man who can treat you right. "Remember that lesson from a couple weeks ago, on body heat? I know it's awkward, but we've only got one sleeping bag. You feel like you can trust this old man to keep you warm?" Unfortunately for his ego and trying to keep down his urges, the trees aren't going to be the only wood in the morning.
◇ Mr. Paul Burton, head of the arts department. He's so over this, a once decent artist who dabbled in pop art and theatre only to stop getting gigs and be black-listed after offending several more famous artists, calling their work 'sell-out chic', he's now a burn-out who smokes and ignores his students all class. He's passionate about art, but frankly he doesn't want tow aste his time teaching when he knows these rats are taking his class for easy credit. He's only teaching here to utilize the facilities and studios so he's not living in a van in the Walmart parking lot. A mix of hippie culture, live and let live and cynical burnout, he's so. Fucking. Done. But... maybe you change that for him.
You're interesting, a headmasters child who doesn't fit in to your fathers perfect mold? Maybe a rebellious student who goes against the grain of this perfect school. Or a blooming ray of sunshine in this dark den of privilege and conformist curriculum for the future lawyers of the world. Either way, he's found a new muse. See him after class.
He'll be thrilled if you're into art, let him guide you. Tell him your favorite artists and he'll tell you when he threw up on there shoes by accident in his hey-day. Gossip about a student you don't like, he'll listen while he smokes and tell you about how that guys mom hit on him. He loves to gossip, but he loves to watch you create more. The way your hands shape a vase or brush across a canvas light a fire in him he hasn't felt in a while. He's more willing to forgo the age gap between you, while it's never something he considered before, he knows he's not gonna let go of the one thing that makes him feel like he lives again. Besides, he's always been unconventional.
He'll have you stay after class, maybe he'll have you pose nude for a painting, assuring you it's fins, it's platonic, it's just for the love of art. He chooses and extra large canvas, it lets him paint while he relieves himself as you explain you're getting cold. He'll put on some artsy, silent, black and white film from the 30s, and while you watch and slowly realize it's pornographic, He'll grin to himself while he watches you flush. He'll ask you all sorts of questions about your thoughts on the film, the actors, what they're doing. He really wants to figure out how experienced you are. "What do you think of the composition? It's really carnal, you know?" He puts out his cigarette. "I'm glad I can show this to you, you'll actually appreciate it. You're not giggling like an idiot when some guys penis is out on the screen." He groans, thinking of his other students.
He does actually like one student, though they make an odd pair. Joseph's easily spooked and shy personality clashes with the brash older man's, but he's glad to have someone he can think of as a protege. Someone who loves art as much as him, but get isolated for it. He was doing a portfolio look over when Joseph accidentally turned in the wrong folder. Joseph feels like he might die as Mr. Burton, a man he admires, flips through nude pictures of the object of his affection, and at a distance no less. A part of him wants to rip it away, but he needs this scholarship.
"Please, please, sir! I-I'll never do it again, it was just a phase, I didn't mean for you to see-"
"They're good." Mr. Burton flips through the folder. "Real good. You could really get somewhere with these, maybe not in the fine art scene, but... tell you what." He adjusts his glasses and leans forward on his desk. "We'll do a special session, you and me, yeah? I'll get your friend here, and I'll vouch for your integrity so you can take some less-" he purses his lips. "Stalker-ish pics- Jesus, kid, is that taken from a tree?"
☆ Anatoli Sidorov, probably the best paid staff given how they got him here. He's a Russian coach for a former Olympic Russian swim team, and he joined the prestigious American school to escape shame after he 'resigned' post a doping scandal which he swears he wasn't involved in. (Whether he was or not is your choice.) Still, he's led the boys swim team and track team to nationals several times, and he's a legend among the wealthy benefactors of the school. He's outwardly very serious, hard on his team but respectful of them. He doesn't put up with any unruly or unsportsmanlike behavior from his boys, at least not what he can see. He's very nice deep down, intellectual and funny, though he still struggles with American humor and English.
He adores you when he meets you, milking about with the other students before class. You seem genuinely social, and wanting to fit in. The idea someone could be so welcoming warms his heart. Deep down, he misses his home, and he misses the friends he once had. You're warm, and he likes that. Not to mention, you're a looker. He's embarrassed, especially if you're male, seeing as he never considered swinging the other way, and much less with someone younger. But he can't help but stare when your pretty tits bounce as you run, or the way those jogging shorts hardly conceal your bulge. He even pulled you to the side one to scold you for not wearing regulation gym clothes, before realizing they were and awkwardly sending you back into class. That was a moment of self-reflection for him.
He's not necessarily outwardly softer to you, you might even think he doesn't like you, given that he has you stay late to run or jump rope, or constantly pulls you into time out mid-game. It's all for your own good, trust him. He doesn't like the way some of the boys were looking at you, and he could tell Evan was a only a play away from trying to practically hump you while trying to 'get the ball'. He's made Harrison, who he loves as a player, run laps for talking to you for only a few minutes. He hates feeling like a jealous boy, but he can't help it. You make him feel young.
He establishes a private locker room area for you, since you're the headmasters kid and not an official student. Besides, you're clearly being harassed by the others! So, he's got a nice little closet for you, with a not suspicious air freshener that's not a hidden camera, and a private key only you have access to. (Technically that's true, he just has a bypass key for himself.) He'll snatch a pair of boxers or some panties, slipping them into his track coat for later. Eventually, he'll tell you he's worried you aren't able to catch up to the others, given that you arrived later and started the gym curriculum later than the others. He'll start having extra 'make-up' workouts with you, starting with stretching. One leg uo on the bar, you'll have to excuses his cold hand running along your thigh, or stroking over your chest as him just admiring how your strength and flexibility is evolving. He relishes the feeling of your body on his, groping you under the guise of training and resisting the urge to just slip aside your gym shorts and veg you to take him.
"Little star, part 'dem a little, there ve go." He keeps your legs parted as he works you into a position on your back, against the rubber mats the tumbling team had laid out. He lays just over you, pushing your legs back a little further with his arms, just far away enough to keep you from noticing his hard on, but enough to lightly press it against the plush swell of your ass. Good, let's just- fuck- hold. Let's hold."
☆ Kory Koffman, English teacher and part time librarian! The school outs so much effort into sports, both admin and students seem to forget about him. Hell, the library is used so little they fired the librarian, and he took it upon himself to try and care for the building himself. He's a sweet, shy man, who just wants to share his passion for literature with others. However, unlike Mr. Burton, he was never popular or famous, so he's content to keep to himself, but the loneliness does get to him.
When you wandered into his library one day, maybe looking for a book or seeking refuge from a hoarde ofadmirers, he was happy to welcome you into his little safe haven. He'll give you some warm tea from the little coffee machine he has set up, and sit you down. Let him help you find a book, or tell you about his creative writing class? He'd let you join, even late in the semester! It's not a very full class.
For the first time in his life, he finds himself craving the attention of another, of someone else's company, other than his books. He hasn't felt that need for connection since he was a boy, after his momma passed. He'll do anything to keep you there, and if reading isn't your thing, much to his chagrin, he'll add a DVD section to the library, but only good films and classic for you! No Adam Sandler, those movies are to overstimulating for poor Mr. Koffman.
As his feelings turn romantic, he's ashamed. You're a student, and he's a lonely old man, you deserve someone better, someone your age. However, the thought of you being with any of the many students who mock him in the halls or disrupt his class, the thought of hand you over to those-those imbeciles, hurts him. He wants you, and he's ashamed at the way his trousers go tight when you bend over to get a fallen book, or when you hand him his glasses after he misplaced them (again), the fact he just stares at your finger prints for awhile and refuses to clean the lens. He's not had sex in a long, long time, but he finds himself masturbating more than he ever did when he was younger. He'll watch library security footage openly, moaning and whimpering at his desk with no fear anybody will stop in, no one ever does but you. He wants you as his spouse, you already make his library, his home away from home seem brighter, imagine what you could do for his actual apartment.
"Oh, hello! It's good to see you, it's been a bit." He's a little bitter at that last statement, but adjusts his glasses and continues. "Just remember to stop by often, okay? I'd really, really hate to impose the late policy on you..."
☆ Atticus Critch, the schools latin instructor and head sponsor of student body, (not to mention the man in charge of detention), is a strict disciplinarian. He takes no nonsense from anyone, and despises the behavioral pardons given to boys like Evan or Harrison simply because they are athletes. Peter is obviously his favorite, and when he catches wind of the ways the boys around campus are speaking about you, he decides to take it upon himself to remove the distraction, by having Carter trail you and give you detention for minor inconveniences. Carter isn't particularly thrilled at always having to send you to detention instead of extorting you to get his rocks off, but he's hoping maybe he'll get to 'monitor' detention one of these days.
Initially, Mr. Critch has you doing small tasks, writing lines or organizing things, but soon he starts to see the appeal. If you're a good student for the most part, he's determined to keep you good, and away from all the vermin in this school. If you're bad, he's had plenty of experience in taming brats. He's open with his sexual desires, it his growing affection for you that makes him struggle.
If you've stayed out too late and broke curfew, you can spend detention on your knees, suckling his cock into the late hours. Maybe you've been running around with Tyler. He'll make you lay down on his desk and deny you your climax over and over again, asking 'if not making you cum' is what that boy does to you, never fully satisfying you. He'll make you beg to finish, and to promise you'll be good from now on.
"Come on, repeat it. Tell me you'll be good now, that you won't bother with BOYS-" He annuciates with a thrust, "When you have a man right here, whose willing to take time out of his day to discipline you!" One the amorous session is over though, he definitely softens, trying to prove he's more than a boy in many ways, including good aftercare. He'll dress your limp form back up in your uniform and walk you get you a cup of water from the fountain. "Only ten minutes till your detention is over, dear. Just sit there, take some time to reflect on how you got here." His tone is demeaning, but as he pets your scalp, his touch is so feather-light. Don't expect is to last into the next day though.
#yandere#yandere oc#tw.yandere#yandere fanfiction#tw.dark content#x reader#yandere boy#yandere x reader#yandere teacher#yandere boarding school#yandere bully#tw.age gap#tw.bullying#tw.dubcon#tw.breeding#tw.noncon#smut#yandere x reader smut#oc critch#oc joel murphy#oc paul burton#oc anatoli#oc Kory Koffman
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In the wake of the whole james somerton fiasco and inspired by this post, I wanted to share a few of my um, soft signs, like, orange flags to detect when someone is bullshitting you.
First of all, I am on the spectrum which means 1) I tend to take what people say at face value and 2) I have a strong sense of justice which makes me prone to biases, all of which combined means I am at perpetual risk of swallowing the bullshit.
So, what to do about it? You turn on the critical thinking and pay attention.
As one of my favorite youtubers, Hannah Alonzo, likes to say: "consider the source, remember the motive". Who is talking to you?? What do you know about them?? What biases might they have?? How do they interact with your own biases?? Where are they talking from?? Is it anger?? happinness? boredom?? Also, why are they talking to you? Are they trying to sell you something?? Are they trying to convince you and why?? How do they go about the finantial motivation, if present? If you have, in this case, a white cis gay man talking to you as it he has it the worst of the worst in the world, there's probably some exaggeration and you should start to wonder. There's a good chance he's bullshitting you.
How they talk about women and POC No, no, stay with me. There's a rule I had back when I was dating men: Always beware of how they treat their mother. With the exception of extremes like mama's boys and cases of abuse, how a man treats the woman with whom they have that familial bond is a good indicator of how they are going to treat you. Do they berate her? speak ill of her? are aggressive or controlling? do they dismiss her opinions? Same with creators, and by god I tell you, specially cis male creators, queer or otherwise, always always beware of how they speak of women, how they treat women, how they treat POC. Somerton had a weird vendetta against straight women. It went mostly unnoticed. Then, he was dismissive towards lesbians and other queer women and it was once again overlooked. Then he went ahead and made sinophobic content about genres and cultures he knows NOTHING about. Again, it went unchecked. What I am telling you is IT'S NOT NORMAL. Contempt about women and non white-western cultures is not normal and if someone has them as them as an enemy or a scapegoat, they're probably bullshitting you. Take what they say and fact check it, see for yourself.
If at any point in a video or an essay you find yourself thinking "wait, really??" then it's time to fact check. Is it a bit suspicious?? is your logic telling you that's not quite how this works?? Then take to google, my friend, they might be bullshitting you. At worst, you dodge a fake fact, at best, you learn way too much about a topic you were already interested in.
Beware of the lack of nuance. I can not stress this enough. We all love monochrome, but life and societal issues are never black and white. It's just impossible, there's too many factors to consider. If you are being presented situations or anecdotes as absolute truths, you're probably being bullshitted. If it's too good to be true, it is. If it sounds waaay too convenient, it probably is. A good researcher, a serious investigator, will always have some nuance because they have done the work and checked the sources. If someone provides you 1) no nuance and 2) no sources, THEY'RE BULLSHITTING YOU.
These are the ones I can come up with just of the top of my head, I'm sure there's more and please, add them. Remember that naivité isn't a crime, I'm fairly naive and that's made me distrustful, and these are some of the techniques I've found that help me navigate through a world of information without losing myself.
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chemical override (4)
Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader
series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist
Ewan wants to clear things up about the night out and his mystery companion, and the reader gets another surprise in LA. Will the two finally have their first date or will something get in the way once more?
Ewan's publicist Donna has never had any issue with her client before. Always present and accounted for, on time for whatever interview, photoshoot or audition he has booked for the day.
But she hasn't been able to get a hold of him in the past two days, which is worrying her to no end, because he is set to meet with a major casting director in New York some time in the coming week.
Donna may have a clue as to why. It's only been two days as well since the pub incident, when The Sun ran a story speculating on Ewan's lovelife - the exact kind of thing he's always been trying to avoid.
It had taken a life of its own, with fans taking it upon themselves to track down every clue of the girl on the internet. Her instagram. Her relation to the cast - apparently she is a cousin of Luke and Elliott. Even the marketing agency where she works. Louise, a 26-year old graphic designer, admittedly harbours a crush on Ewan, and when she heard that her cousins were hanging out with him at a pub nearby, she almost immediately invited herself and her friends over.
But that's all, according to Ewan. After talking to Luke, memories of the night came rushing back to him.
Stumbling out in the alley to send you that voice message. Rejoining the boys to see that they've got new company. Being introduced to Louise, with Tom joking that he should be careful with the missus. Wouldn't want her - you - to think that he's flirting with anyone else.
Even though that's exactly what happened. Not the flirting, per se. Not from Ewan's side, at least. Louise had been brazen with admiration, barely leaving his side the rest of the night. Asking him a bunch of probing questions he had neither the interest nor the patience to answer.
They had all thought the pub was safe from prying eyes. No one approached them for anything, not even a single look of recognition followed by the question, “Are you that guy from House of the Dragon?” Unfortunately, it only takes one rat for a headline to surface. Ewan Mitchell’s mystery girl has been the talk of the fandom and Donna has been trying hard to quell the rumours.
Such is the nasty nature of the business, as she knows Ewan has quickly learned.
She dials him again, and to her surprise, the call actually patches through.
Her client's throaty voice is heard on the other line, "Hey, Donna, sorry if I've missed your calls."
"It's alright, it's alright, Ewan," Donna stammers. "Just glad to hear from you. Where are you? I've managed to do some damage control about those rumours and - "
"Oh, I'm in LA. I just landed about an hour ago," Ewan responds casually, not mirroring the stress in Donna's tone. Has he gotten over the fuss so easily?
"LA? You know your meeting is not till next week, right? And it's in New York. It's very, very important that you don't miss it, Ewan."
"And I won't," Ewan affirms, laughing dryly to console his worried publicist. "I just need to see about something over here."
Someone, he thinks. He's got his priorities straight.
"Work-related?" Donna asks, curious.
"Uhhhm," Ewan dithers, but decides against telling her about you. Not just yet. "Just visiting a friend. I'll stay here for a while then fly out to New York, don't worry."
"Okay, just keep in touch, alright? I'll send more details about the meeting soon."
"Sure thing. Thank you, Donna."
"Talk soon, Ewan. Take care of yourself."
Donna feels a huge sense of relief wash over her when the call ends, knowing the whereabouts of one of her biggest clients. But why LA? Perhaps Ewan just needed some time off after the flurry of annoying headlines put out in the UK.
Or maybe he's visiting with a friend? Who is stateside right now? Fabien's filming in Philly. The rest of the boys are still in England. But then...
Her thoughts land on the one thing - the one person - that would make him fly out on such short notice. Without giving thought to anything else, especially after the speculation on his romantic life.
Ewan's never been one to share about personal affairs, not even to his close-knit team, but no matter how reclusive he is, no one can deny the way he looks at you. The way he lights up when you're brought up in conversation. The number of times he had excused himself from their meetings to make a call, standing in the corner with a permanent smile etched on his face.
Oh, Donna knows now just who he is in LA for.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Like inevitable spectres haunting someone of his profession, Ewan noticed the papparazzi snapping away as he arrived in LA.
He told no one he would be coming, so it must be an automatic thing in the city. The photogs are always scurrying in the periphery, ready to catch anyone of note, no matter the degree of fame or notoriety.
If you were keeping up with such news, you would know he is in the city.
But according to your assistant Clara, who was kind enough to inform him of your schedule, you are still finishing up on another day of rehearsals for your upcoming rom-com. Ewan checked in the same hotel as you, planning to seek you out as soon as you arrive back from work.
He hasn't spoken to you since the voicemail, and since those false news broke out. Not that he can blame you - wouldn't anyone be suspicious of a drunken confession made by a guy who was allegedly in the company of another girl?
He hates it, being subject to all of this. This nonsense that is keeping you from him, not even worth any consequence.
But he will deal with the blows. As long as he sets things right with you. As long he gets you in the end.
He settles in his suite, getting ready to meet with you once more. He showers, shaves, tousles his hair. He even checks whether he smells decent after all of that - once, twice, and another time. Being nervous to stand in front of a crowd is one thing; it's a whole other conundrum for him finally see you again.
Maybe the crowds are more manageable, and it baffles him to realise so. He can put on a persona, be the actor, and disappear inside himself as the cameras flash bright enough for him to disassociate.
But not with you. He wants to show you everything that he is, who he truly is, and it scares him. There is no team to help him get ready now. It's all him, just Ewan.
Clad in his trusty black jeans and a comfortable hoodie of the same dark colour, he looks in the mirror one last time after receiving a text from Clara that you've arrived at the hotel about half an hour ago.
He contemplates opening the bottle of bourbon from the minibar and taking a shot of liquid courage - something to help him get his explanation ready. Just so he wouldn't stammer in front of you.
Just so you he can make you see, without any error or trace of doubt, that he meant every word in that voicemail, no matter how embarrassing it might have sounded.
He decides against it, imagining the wrinkling of your nose as you catch a whiff of the alcohol. It's cute when you do it, and he adores it so dearly, but he knows that it isn't the right moment.
He rights himself, rolls his shoulders, and he's out the door.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Jacob trails you inside your hotel suite, laughing at some shared remark about the scenes you rehearsed for the day.
They were emotionally demanding and even after tossing around ideas for hours, the two of you were unable to achieve a satisfying approach to the scenes.
Which is why he had proposed practicing well into the evening, and you found yourselves heading back to your suite together. He has his own house in LA, but your hotel just happened to be closer to the rehearsal studio.
"Care for a drink?" you asked him.
"Why the hell not?" he immediately assents in that easy, Aussie drawl. "We might need it for this shite."
You laugh in agreement, "Indeed. I've got some canned gin and tonics if that's alright.. or beer... or whiskey... " you trail off as you study the contents of your fridge.
"G and t, please, mate," he settles down on the couch, legs stretching in front of him. "We were so unproductive today. I just could not get that line right."
"Tell me about it." You hand him his drink, and he clinks it with yours with a mumbled cheers. "It was me who can't land the right tone," you say. "I mean, is my character supposed to be confused in that moment? Or angry? Or sad?"
"Or all of 'em." he shrugs. "Tricky, isn't it?"
You hurriedly fetch your script from a table, getting right down to it. "So for the first scene in the third act..."
Moments later, with cans of gin and tonic discarded on the coffee table, you and Jacob sit with legs crossed on the couch facing each other. Scripts in hand, you go through the lines over and over, with only seemingly minor tweaks each time. To an actor though, even just the slightest change of pitch or expression makes all the difference.
"Is that better? I think we almost got it," you say after a read-through.
"Yeah, so much better," he grins, holding his hand up for a high-five. Just as your hands smack in the air, another sound echoes faintly from the door.
"Someone's knocking?" Jacob asks. "You expecting anybody? Room service or anything?"
"No," you shake your head, trying to think of whether your assistant or publicist said anything about dropping by. "Maybe it's just housekeeping?"
"I'll get it," Jacob states, already padding his way to the door.
A beat later, you hear Jacob loudly exclaim, "Ewan, mate! It's good to see you!"
Ewan? A shiver runs up your spine. Craning your neck to get a view of a doorway, you catch sight of him, half-obscured by Jacob's tall frame.
Confused, surprised, and feeling some other emotion you can't pinpoint, you head over to greet him.
"How are you doing?" Jacob greets, shaking Ewan's hand, oblivious to the poorly hidden distaste in his eyes.
"Wh-what are you doing here?" Ewan finds himself asking Jacob, a bit rudely, just as you ask him the same.
"What are you doing here?" you mirror his question at the exact same time.
"Oh!" Jacob breathes out a laugh, "Well, I'll go first. We were just practicing lines."
"In her room? Isn't it a bit late for rehearsal? I thought you're supposed to be off work." Ewan asks, and it sounds like an accusation. He starts to feel all kinds of uneasy - were the twins right about life imitating art?
You narrow your eyes at him. "We decided to continue running lines after rehearsal. There's a scene we can't get right. It's quite tricky - "
"Just the two of you? Alone, here?" Ewan tilts his head, gesturing towards the room like it's some forbidden place.
Jacob shakes his head, smile steady on his lips. If he's caught on to how Ewan must be feeling, he doesn't let it affect him. He gives you a look, as if to check your reaction, and you give him a reassuring shrug.
Ewan does not overlook this exchange. He clenches his jaw, irate from the assumptions popping up in his mind. Before he forgets his manners, he says, "Excuse me, I just... wasn't expecting... I just wanted to speak to you."
"I didn't even know you were in LA," you say, before moving aside to usher him in. "But I'm glad you are, of course. Come join us - "
He nods, making his way to the seating area, where he spies the discarded cans of alcohol and dog-eared scripts. Maybe he should have taken that bloody shot after all.
He laughs joylessly to himself, shaking his head. "Sorry, you guys. I just flew in today, and I must have been exhausted from the flight."
"Hey, no worries, mate," Jacob says. "You know what, I'll be on my way. Give you time to catch up and all." He picks up his own tattered script then gives you a kiss on the cheek, bidding you with a, "I'll see you tomorrow. Have a good night, sweetheart."
If looks could kill, and if his dear mother hadn't raised him right, he would have incinerated Jacob in that moment.
He is snapped out of his thoughts when Jacob claps him on the shoulder, "Great to see you again, mate. Have a good night, eh?"
Ewan knows he's being ridiculous. There's nothing wrong with two friends and co-stars spending some time alone to rehearse. Besides, last he heard, you were adamant that you and Jacob are just friends.
So why is he being so irrational? Why does the idea of you spending more time than necessary with Jacob, possibly falling for him, bother him so much?
Ewan realises that this is what jealousy must feel like.
He's had career envy before. Another actor landing a role he vied for. Someone else getting the praise he deserves.
But nothing like this. It's petty and possessive.
He wants you to just be his.
You stand in front of him once more after you walk Jacob out of the suite.
"Hey," you say, smiling weakly.
"Hi, darling."
Both of you want to do more. Say more. Usually you would greet each other with a hug and a kiss on a cheek, his hands lingering on your forearms even after you pull away, but the air is thick with tension.
You look at him with those bright, expecting eyes of yours, and Ewan just wants to cave in and make a sloppy confession. But not after that voicemail, no. He's determined to do this right. Words not slurred, head clear.
"So I got your voicemail," you finally say, smiling coyly. "That was... something."
"Hmm," he can't help but mirror your smile, as always. "It was, wasn't it?"
"I understand," you continue, taking a step closer, "if you were drunk. We all say things when we're off it that we maybe don't mean - "
"But darling, I meant every word," he says, way too quickly.
You laugh, the sound of it erasing whatever apprehension remained in him. "Do you even remember what you said?"
"I do," he counters, moving even closer to you. Another step and he'd be able to wrap his arms around your waist and pull you to him. "At least, some of - no - most of it."
"Oh yeah?" you ask cheekily, aided by the effect of gin. He still has your heart racing, but a part of you now knows that the feeling is mutual. "What did you say again?"
He sees that glint in your eye, and it causes him to smirk. "Why don't I make it simple for you, darling?" He closes the distance, one hand brushing the hair from your face.
"Okay," you swallow, getting lost in his blues.
"I missed you." He kisses your cheek. "I like you. A lot." He kisses the other. "And I, uh, I would like to take you on a date."
His eyes meet yours. His voice is steady, but you notice some nervousness in his gaze. How the tables have turned. You make Ewan Mitchell's heart go awry.
"Please, darling?" he timidly adds, the sentiment so sweet you want to blurt out yes immediately. Before you can, he's already leaned back, an explanation rushing out of his lips, "And... I'm not sure but you must have seen those headlines? They're not true, I swear. We were out drinking and - "
"I know, Ewan." You cut him off with a hand pressed gently on his chest but he keeps going.
" - some other people joined us. One of them being - "
"Luke and Elliott's cousin. I know. Elliott called and told me everything."
"Oh. He called you?" A huge sense of relief washes over him, better than any comfort he might have found in a shot or three of bourbon.
"Mhmm, he called me yesterday. So, you know, you didn't really have to fly out. I was about to call you eventually."
He smiles bashfully, eyes cast down as a blush spreads across his cheeks. Damn it, Elliott, you brilliant lad. He reminds himself to treat Elliott to a pint the next time he sees him.
"I still wanted to see you," Ewan maintains, pressing a kiss to your forehead and you're immediately enveloped by the familiar comfort of his scent. Surprisingly without the staple hint of cigarette smoke, due to his frantic scrubbing after the flight.
"I'm happy you're here," you say, wrapping your arms around his waist, cheek pressed against his chest. "And no offence to Louise or anything, but she needs to learn some boundaries with my - "
Ewan looks down at you fondly, squeezing your arms to prompt your next words, "Yeah, darling? Your what?"
"My - " you attempt to bury your face in his hoodie, but he keeps your gaze with a hand cupping your jaw. So you end up saving yourself with " - my Aemond."
"Hmm," he hums, lips curling, and it's so very Aemond of him it makes you feel warm all over. "Your Aemond.Your Ewan. I'm all yours, love."
The whole thing couldn't have gone any better, all things considered, and Ewan feels content to have gotten over his first brush with the rumour mill. What matters is right in front of him, and you know the truth.
"Are you staying in this hotel? How did you even know I was here?" You take his hand, guiding him over to the couch.
"Clara," is all Ewan says by way of explanation.
"Well, thank you, Clara," you declare. Ewan shuffles closer to you and rests his arm around your shoulders, planting a kiss on your forehead again. The gesture is already becoming instinctive, providing the both of you with a sense of ease.
"Darling?"
"Yeah?" you respond absentmindedly, fingers toying with the soft fabric of his hoodie.
"Is that a yes?"
You exhale deeply. As if it wasn't clear enough already. "What do you think, handsome?"
"I don't know, angel. You tell me," he counters cheekily, his fingers playing with your hair as you playfully glare at him.
"What if I say no, baby?"
"Then I'll have to work hard to change your mind, princess."
"And how would you do that, honey?"
His gaze darkens, and something flashes across his blue eyes as he whispers intensely, "Use your imagination, bunny."
"Ri-right," you bite your lip, then shake your head to snap out of it. "We'll have to draw the line at bunny."
He laughs at your flustered state, pleased by the effect he has on you. "What's wrong with bunny?"
That elicits a groan out of you, but you smile anyway. "I already said yes, Ewan. Quit it with the bunny."
"Alright, beautiful," he relents, making you lean even closer against him.
The haze of gin after a long work day starts to subside and the rush of emotion is coming back to you. You find yourself gazing at Ewan in mild disbelief, in awe that he just confessed that he wants you.
Feeling antsy, you stand and pace around the room. You start tidying things, putting your scattered knick-knacks back in your handbag. If you sit with him any longer, you just might end up hurrying things through and jump his bones already, kiss him the next time he does that hmm.
"Can I get you anything?" you ask.
"No," he says smoothly. "I just need you." The words make you stop in your tracks. He still sits in the same position, looking at you with that undeniable desire in his eyes.
"Uhhhm," your mouth feels dry all of the sudden. Nothing his tongue past your lips can't fix, your intrusive thoughts barge right in. "So... the... the media rollout's still going on isn't it? Should we check and see?" You take your laptop and plop back down next to him. He doesn't miss a beat and cuddles against you once more, wrapping his arm around your tense frame.
"I think so, darling." The media rollout is how the interviews and promotional material filmed by the cast is being released gradually, on a weekly basis, after each new episode comes out.
A simple search on Youtube confirms it, and the first thing that popped up is the Where is The Lie? video you did for Elle.
It was slated for just Tom, Phia, and Ewan but your Blackwood character became such a fan-favourite that they asked you to join in. Not to mention the frenzy you and Ewan caused online with the initial interviews you did together.
"Shall we watch this?" Ewan offers, solely for the intent of seeing you in the video.
You click on it, and for the next 8 minutes or so, all you can take note of are the signs that had clearly already been there. The fans were on to something when they claimed that you and Ewan are a really good ship.
The video starts with a clip of Phia hitting her head on the overhead lamp when she stands, prompting her to uncontrollably giggle along with you and Tom. Ewan, being the exception, is beside himself with worry, and he appears to instinctively reach for your hand as you sit beside him.
"Huh," Ewan smiles, taking your hand and pressing a kiss to the back of it.
Tom is the first to be put on the hot seat, and he slowly recites the three statements he prepared. "Ewan, pay attention," Tom blurts out when he notices that Ewan kept sneaking glances at you. "Sure, I'm locked in," Ewan says right back, as you and Phia share a look.
"What were you looking at?" you ask playfully, poking him in the side. "You seem plenty distracted there."
He snorts at himself in the video, when he ends up smiling as he caught your eye. "It was your fault. You were distracting me."
"I was not!" you exclaim. "I thought you were just being competitive then."
Phia is next to have a go. She tells you of a Wifi repellent necklace, a wrestling career, and saving a squirrel from a drainpipe. "The Wifi thing sounds like something Ewan would have," Tom jokes. "Oh sure," you concur, "except that he'd actually keep it so he can watch films." Ewan smiles at your acute observation.
"I'd also keep it to stalk your Instagram," Ewan mumbles from beside you. "And you know, just stalk you in general."
"I'm sure you do, Mitchell," you respond casually, but your face warms up anyhow.
It's Ewan's turn, and as he sits on the hot seat, you see Tom and Phia casting a look at each other then at the two of you, a secret message shared between them. "I bet she will know the answer right away," Phia says. "Yeah, how do we know the two of you didn't conspire together?" Tom asks. "Are you kidding me, you guys?" you laugh at them, thinking how silly they were being, not knowing then that they were definitely on to something.
"Darling, you have to know this," Ewan tells you specifically as you all try to guess the answer. "Oh, darling!" Tom mouths to Phia, dramatically flipping nonexistent long hair over his shoulder. Phia laughs at his antics, before nudging you and saying, "Which one is it? Which is the lie? I trust you." You respond, "Why me? You two should know this too!"
"Because I wasn't trying to date them, my love," Ewan says, smiling at the screen.
"Oh, come on now." You crane your neck up to press a soft kiss against his cheek before turning your attention back to the video. So you don't notice the switch in Ewan's breathing. The jumps in his heartbeart. The way he subtly clears his throat to deal with his flustered state.
The video comes to a close after your turn and even at the very end, Ewan can be seen admiring you as you give the closing remarks with Phia.
Admiring you, as he does in the moment.
"You're beautiful, you know that?" he says, when you turn to look at him.
"Thank you," you reply softly, your voice barely audible.
Some time passes with the two of you catching up, talking about your upcoming projects, his big meeting in New York - all the while his fingers trace patterns on your exposed skin, his arm wrapped around you snugly.
"Have you been keeping up with the show?" he asks.
"The last episode I saw fully was... the second one? I got pretty busy after that. How about you?"
"Oh," he looks down in thought, piquing your curiosity, "so you didn't get to see the third episode yet then?"
"No, not yet," you shake your head, "but I've seen some stuff here and there."
He hums again and he wants to ask, have you seen his stuff? There are around a dozen or so potential jokes at play here. He has an inkling to tell you to watch the episode so you can see just what you're in for. So you can see him and all he has to offer. He'd also fumble through a justification, as he had done in some interview, about the new studio they had filmed in being cold as a fridge freezer.
What to say? What to say? He picks at some lint on his jeans, smirking to himself.
"Yeah," you eventually giggle at his obvious hesitation. "I've only seen some of the episode. But what I've seen... is enough to make me jealous of Madame Sylvie."
He stiffens, throat suddenly dry, but one look at your smile does away with his concerns.
He soon finds himself laughing, a muffled, "Oh, darling," whispered lovingly against your hair.
"That was very brave of you, Ewan," you express sincerely.
"Thank you, love."
"So... just how cold was it in there?"
Your shared, unrestrained laughter echo throughout the room.
▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎
Your first date was meant to happen the following night, but such is the nature of the job that Ewan's schedule gets moved up all of a sudden.
Once the bigshot casting director in New York found out that Ewan is already stateside, he requested that the meeting be held at the earliest possible opportunity.
He calls you while you are in rehearsals, profusely apologizing and promising to fly back to LA in the next two days, right after his meeting is all sorted.
"It's okay, Ewan," you reassure him, genuinely understanding. "I will see you when you come back. Good luck, I know you're going to smash it, whatever opportunity this is!"
"Thank you, darling," he says, already wanting to have you back in his arms already, mentally kicking himself for not kissing you when he had about a hundred chances to do so. "I'm going to miss you."
"I'll miss you too," you respond, blushing silly with the phone pressed to your ear. "But it'll only be two days."
"Hmm, doesn't matter. I need to take you on our bloody date, darling. I've already taken so damn long."
"Don't worry," you say, "I've already seen you way more than I should before the first date."
"Wha - " a protest forms on his lips, but he gets your point right away. "Oh. Clever, darling."
"I know."
"But I'm planning to give you something that's just for you. That the whole world won't ever be privy to."
You swallow hard, your very being heating up at his insinuation. "Don't make promises you can't keep, Mitchell."
"I guess you'll just have to wait and see."
Bonus chapter!
Nocturnal file 🤫
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The cast's Where is The Lie? video is an actual thing! I hope yous got the reference!
Notice how the two nerve-wrecked shites didn't have their first proper kiss yet??? Will they ever?? 😩😩😩
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See you in part five! (preview: something will happen in NY that might cause Ewan to question things!)
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BNHA Boys: 1st Time Noncon
▶ This is a yandere/dark work and it may contain triggering content so please READ THE WARNINGS before. Do not read if minor.
More at Masterlist
Female Reader
Boys -> Hawks + Dabi + Bakugo
Warnings at each part (but the title is quite explicit, right?) + NSFW Link (be careful + on twitter (you need a account to see)
AN: Please, reblog and give me feedback + Gimme ideas
–
Hawks
-> Manipulation
Keigo is a cunning guy, always looking out for a way to get things done his way. He’s used to tricking people, using his tactics to reach his desired goals. But honestly? You have to be the biggest chump he’s ever met in his life.
Did you actually believe when he deeply sighed and pretended to relent to your begging, just before meekly offering you to walk away from him?
Did your ingenuous self really trust him when Keigo swore on his hero honor - what honor really? - that he’d let you go home, safe and sound?
But the reality is that you fell for it, like a bee attracted to honey. It’s moments like those that Keigo acknowledges how naive and kind-hearted you are. Too cute and good for this twisted, cruel world.
So that’s why a minor part of him is almost satisfied at the reluctance and doubt that shades your pretty face when he tells you the inflated price for your freedom.
You clearly don’t want to sleep with him. Your attempts to bargain are immediately turned down and it takes less than five minutes for you to crumble down.
Keigo almost feels bad at your distressed teary face. But hey, a win is a win.
You try to relax when he starts kissing and touching you. To be calm when he slowly starts making love to you.
But it feels so dead wrong and the overwhelming realization that Hawks was lying about letting you go finally hits you like a brick and you try to push him away, pointlessly make him get off from you.
But no point in that cause Keigo isn’t gonna let you go anywhere.
“Deal’s off, babe. I mean, I was willing to let you go and all, but since you ruined the whole mood…there was no need to fight me, ya know? I wasn’t forcing you into anything, was I? But since you broke your promise, I suppose I’m gonna have to keep you here with me.”
(VISUAL)
Dabi
-> Noncon
Dabi isn’t one to shy away from what he wants.
He takes what he wants, when he wants and how he wants and you don’t get any say in it.
So, if for a moment you actually believed you could argue or convince the black-haired villain to leave you alone, then you’re not up for a great start with him.
Dabi doesn’t care when you start crying, spirit battered over the small burns he gives you for trying to fight back. He doesn’t care for your wails of pain when he fucks you in the way he wants to.
Dabi is sadistic like that, he actually enjoys the terror that floods your entire face when he explains in extensive detail all the scary lustful needs he wants to fulfill by using you.
He’s definitely one to use tight ropes to bend you in uncomfortable positions when fucking you - just because they allow him better access and less struggle from you.
Doesn’t give a crap about your wellbeing or if you get to cum, those are unnecessary thoughts for him.
As long as Dabi gets to end his night with a few orgasms, he’s good.
“Oh sweetheart, there’s no point in begging. That’s not gonna change my mind. And can you even blame me? Just look at you, such a pretty body you have. You’re just too tempting to let go and trust me, I’m not planning to.”
(VISUAL)
Bakugo
-> Forced Oral - (male receiving)
Bakugo has mild-anger issues and everyone knows that so, if anything, it was entirely your fault for provoking the anger out of him.
You saw an opportunity to try an escape and you took it, even though it was meant to fail miserably.
Bakugo ends up wrestling you back inside the house, tightly clutching your hair as he angrily shouts at how much of an ungrateful brat you are.
He’s so damn pissed that you almost got away that he can’t control himself. All the adrenaline and anger mixing up in his blood and all he wants is to teach you a proper lesson. Scare you into submission. Make sure that you’ll never act up again.
His hands are cruel as he roughs you up a bit, ignoring your scared shrieks.
But the real punishment is the way he fucks your mouth.
His pace is so insanely fast, demanding and brutal, and he carries on without caring for the numerous times you gag and choke around his length, unable to pull away because of the vice grip he has on your scalp.
The way he facefucks you is humiliating and brutal, and the cherry on top of the cake is when Bakugo shoots his sticky cum all over your face before leaving you bruised up and with a hurting throat.
Afterwards, Bakugo might feel a bit bad because that’s definitely not how he planned your first time doing something intimate together, but on the bright side - you get much more obedient and calm towards him.
“The hell you giving me that pathetic look for, huh. You fuckin’ deserved that and you know that. Had you not acted all lunatic and none of this would’ve happened.”
(VISUAL)
#@mrsdarkandyandere7#yandere bnha#yandere mnha#dark bnha#yandere my hero academia#bnha x reader#mha x reader#yandere x reader#hawks x reader#yandere hawks#yandere hawks x reader#yandere keigo takami x reader#dabi x reader#yandere dabi#yandere dabi x reader#bakugo x reader#yandere bakugou#yandere bakugo x reader#yandere bakugo katsuki#yandere bakugo#tw: noncon
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call me back
fluff (+ a bit of angst) 𐙚 established relationship 𐙚 idol!hoshi x fem!reader 𐙚 wc: 1.6k
. . . fighting with you is never easy for hoshi. especially not when an ocean is separating you
was fighting over the last piece of cake stupid and immature? yes. did it feel like hoshi’s whole world was about to collapse when he noticed you ate it? double yes. while your boyfriend wasn’t known for his great patience and non-existent anger issues, he never took his anger out on you, no matter how frustrated and annoyed he was.
well - until last week.
hoshi came home tired and very, very hungry, nothing out of the ordinary, though you could clearly see he was a lot more agitated than usual, so you did what you always did when he came back exhausted like that - gave him space. you were just about to start your nighttime routine when you heard your name being yelled from the kitchen, and not in a happy “baby, my love, my darling, please come hereeee” kind of way.
you didn’t even get a chance to take a breath as you entered the kitchen, coming face to face with soonyoung and his angry pout. “where the fuck is my cake?” he asked, and now, a week later, his words were still echoing through his head.
it was never his intention to lash out at you like that. obviously. he was tired, and hungry, his muscles were aching, he felt like a bad boyfriend for spending so little time with you, and he forgot to buy a gift for his mom's birthday - not that it mattered, nothing could excuse him for being so mean to you. to make matters worse, instead of acting like a man and begging on his knees for your forgiveness, he chickened out and just left.
“man, why don’t you just don’t call her and apologise?” woozi sighed, throwing his head back because it had to be the tenth time he had to listen to hoshi’s story of how he decided to act like the biggest dick over an overpriced piece of a strawberry cake.
“i did but she’s not answering.”
“no shit, i wouldn’t have answered either.”
and that exactly was the biggest problem - it was hard enough to go through a fight while he was home, but now that he was overseas, a thousand kilometres away from you it was impossible. yes, he could send you flowers and shit, but it would only piss you off even more. there was no way for him to show you how truly fucking sorry he was.
“i know you’re angry with me right now, but please,” hoshi took in a shaky inhale. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt so… sad. “please, just call me back,” that had to be the tenth voicemail he left you ever since he left home.
you, on the other hand, weren’t doing much better. you felt like slapping the shit out of him that night in your apartment, and although you were able to control your sudden surge of violence, you didn’t hold back on cursing him out after he left. you even thought about burning his side of the closet but if you did that you’d lose all of your favourite hoodies and flannels, so you gave up on that too.
after your short rage situation, you sat down at kitchen island, and stared at the empty plate where soonyoung’s cake was supposed to be. how were you supposed to know he’d act like that over a cake? obviously you wouldn’t have eaten it then. you figured your boyfriend must’ve had a really bad day at the rehearsals. the past couple of days were really harsh on him, and if you could you’d wrap him in bubble wrap, a couple of blankets, and cuddle the shit out of him for being so strong through all of this.
all of those excuses for him and still - you couldn’t bring yourself to answer his calls and texts, no matter how much listening to his voicemails broke your heart.
“so, um, i know we’re not talking but i’m just calling to tell you good morning. remember to eat, and um, have a great day, baby.”
the boys were slowly losing their patience too (seungcheol asked mingaho if he could share some of his calming tea) because a grumpy hoshi was never a fun hoshi, plus - they hated seeing their best friend constantly beating himself over your fight. there was something lacking without their performance team leader’s spark.
“should we just call her?” mingyu looked over at soonyoung, who was sitting by himself in the corner of the room. “he looks pathetic, moping around like that,” he snorted.
seungcheol groaned, banging his head on jeonghan's shoulder. as they started to get older he started to feel less like a leader but more like a therapist (he really thought about resigning the day seungkwan came whining about a love triangle he got himself into). “they are adults, they should figure it out between themselves.”
“oh come on, do we have to remind you what we had to do for you when you forgot about your girlfriend's birthday so she would forgive you?” mingyu snickered, and pulled out his phone.
you didn’t know what to expect when you saw mingyu’s picture flash over your phone screen. it definitely had something to do with your boyfriend, that much you gathered, but you weren’t sure you wanted to hear what he had to say. your boyfriend’s words really hurt you, and no matter how much you wanted to forgive him, you weren’t sure you could do it yet.
eventually, you clicked on the green button with a shaky finger. “yes?” you took a deep inhale and prepared yourself for whatever you were about to hear.
“okay, so you know exactly why i’m calling. your boyfriend looks like a kicked puppy, he stopped saying horanghae, he’s dressed all in black and he looks like he drank an entire bottle of soju. i mean, don't worry, he didn't do it because he would be reeling now, but you get what i mean. whatever happened between the two of you, give us back our hoshi."
"well, that was very tactful," you heard coups' voice in the background.
“can you shut up for one second?”
“no, in fact i can’t.”
“okay, boys, i don’t want to interrupt whatever is going on, but i really need to know if he’s doing as bad as you're saying.”
“bad” didn’t even come close to what hoshi was feeling. at this point he was so angry and frustrated at himself for acting like he acted, that seriously had to be one of his lowest points of his life achievements. now you were going to dump him, and he’d have to drown himself in soju, and grow a beard, and write a sad love song that he’d hear at the radio for the rest of his life, and-
there was no way you were calling him right now. and yet, “h-hello? babe?”
“no, the fucking pope,” he’d have to add a cabin in the woods to his list of what he’d do after you’d break up with him. “kwoon soonyoung, you have to be one of the most insufferable, impatient and immature people i know. all this because of a piece of cake? do you hear how childish that sounds?"
loud and clear, honey.
“that’s why i didn’t apologise in the first place. i immediately realised how fucking stupid i acted, and felt so ashamed of saying all of those awful things to you, and so i just left.”
you sighed defeated. you kind of anticipated him saying that - your boyfriend had a habit of doing things before thinking them over, and as much as you understood him being exhausted and overworked, you still couldn’t forget how small he made you feel that night.
“look, i really don’t want to fight, being away from you is hard enough, but…,” you ran a hand over your face. what were you supposed to do? you spent the last three nights on the couch because you couldn’t fall asleep in your shared bed, and there were so many times when you wanted to text him about the most unserious things that only he’d get, but you just couldn’t. “your words really hurt me.”
“i know, shit, i know, and i’m so fucking sorry. whatever i’ll say it won’t be enough, i should’ve apologised right away. fuck, your boyfriend is such a loser,” you heard him laugh, but it was not the usual soonyoung laugh that made the flowers bloom, and sun shine. “i understand if you want to take a break.”
“that’s the thing, i don’t want to take any breaks. i miss you so much. i miss talking to you every night, i miss our silly conversations, i miss getting my daily hoshi boyfriend pics. i’m sick of seeing your face on twitter and not over face time,” you pulled the sleeve of his sweater over your hand, like it would make you feel any closer to him. “let’s take it slow, maybe?”
you could swear you heard soonyoung exhale, “yes, yes, let’s do that. whatever you need, babe,” he said immediately. “my poor baby must’ve been so nervous.”
“i love you, you know,” you whispered. there was no point in making things worse and pretending that you didn't miss him, and even though it would probably be a while before everything went back to normal, you didn't want him to doubt whether you still loved him as much as you did before.
“i love you too. very much,” he whispered back, finally sounding a bit happier. “and baby? thank you for calling me back.
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So whatever happened to talking about something and healthy communication. The passive aggression is exaaactly what you need during a stressful couple of days :D
#everyone has it hard yall#everyone is tired#im tryna keep myself sane here#resolve any issues u have#so stupid tryna control ppl's reaction to ur shit just say it outright tf#drives me insane fr#did this 4 school my boy#why can we independent of another person but cant be independent of u how does that work#we told you ab and all too#like u dont see the real issue here just how inconvenienced u are#maybe think that we're having it hard as well?#so invalidating :)#wtv until march#// maple
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