#just… if I were to go. I’d prefer to do it with at least some certainty gained in life

[jikigo]

you ever just see a post and just

. 😭

.⬅️🫀⬅️

[malachitezmeyka]

I’ve been so completely out of it all day bc of last night’s revelation, it’s literally been the only thing I could think about, and the deeper I get in analysing my life experiences the more realisations I come to, and each one feels more horrific than the last.

Not horrific as in terrible, but as in it feels like whatever remains of my sense of self is completely falling apart. I thought I was bi for so long, didn’t even spend a single second questioning it. Never did I even think that I may be wrong, it seemingly made too much sense for me to be wrong. But the sense it made was the fact I was attracted to both male and female characters in animated shows, not real people.

I don’t think I’ve ever had a crush on a real person before. Not on someone I knew irl, nor on some actor/celebrity, nor on someone I saw on tiktok or wherever. And it’s like, I can acknowledge someone is attractive, even that someone is beautiful or hot, but it’s never personal when I do. Pretty girls I see don’t linger in my mind at all. I can’t picture myself dating them or getting intimate or kissing them or anything. It’s a purely aesthetic attraction with no feelings behind it. With animated/drawn characters it’s different, I can actually feel all the physical side-effects of looking at someone you’re romantically attracted to. But when the scale of a drawing slides too far towards realism, like with museum paintings or even that one Suiren portrait I drew once, the attraction fades again. I’m just not and have never been attracted to real people.

At my old school the topic of which celebrities you found hot came up often and I never knew what to say. Naming the ones I knew were conventionally beautiful but I wasn’t personally attracted to felt like lying, so eventually I started naming people my mom found hot. She’d tell me which actors she had a crush on when we watched movies or shows together and I pretended to see her point. After a while I managed to convince myself that it wasn’t pretending and that I really agreed with her. I realise now it all boiled down to purely aesthetic attraction again, I had no genuine interest in them. And one could assume it was just my preference for women showing, but female celebrities faced the exact same treatment from me.

I started reevaluating a lot of sexuality-related feelings and life moments. My dad’s SIL often laments how I’m 17 and don’t have a boyfriend yet, and when I say I don’t want one she goes “Why? It’s not like you have to sleep with him, wouldn’t it be nice to be gifted flowers and taken on dates and the like?” I usually just shrug but my internal answer was always a resounding no. I once again thought I just liked girls more, but when I actually thought about what if dad’s SIL wasn’t homophobic and posed the question in a sapphic way, I realised that my answer wouldn’t change. I don’t want a partner of any gender or to be taken out on dates or anything like that.

It was here that things really started to go downhill for me last night bc then, once I realised I didn’t want a girlfriend, I turned my attention to the more sexual side of things. It’s possible to be aromantic and allosexual, right? But I’ve known for a while that a lot of sex-related things are a very big ick for me, penetration of any kind being on top of the list. Forget dicks and toys, I don’t want fingers or tongues inside me either, not have I ever used a tampon. But not everyone likes penetration, that’s fine, there are other things. But the thought of someone lavishing my tits with affection just makes me way too hyper aware of them which triggers my dysphoria, and I’ve always found kissing to be extremely gross, and… pretty much every sexual act I can think of causes some kind of rejection in me. Fantasies are fine, fics/writing are fine, even watching porn is fine for the most part (even then, I can only get off to it if I imagine 2d characters in place of the people), but the second I think of something actually being done to me? It makes my toes curl in a very much bad way.

I’m by no means a completely non-sexual being, quite the opposite actually. I’m horny a lot of the time and it’s completely normal for me to get off at least once almost every day, but again, it’s all only in fantasies (which never feature me, only characters). I’m so averse to the idea of fucking or being fucked that I don’t even touch myself, ever. I accidentally discovered that rubbing my thighs together in a specific way feels good when I was younger and have just been doing that ever since. I’ve tried using my hands but it’s just not pleasurable in any way. I really don’t want anything or anyone touching me, ever, at all. And it’s so weird to realise because it seems natural for someone with as high of a libido as mine to want to be fucked, right? But the mere thought disgusts me and causes insane anxiety to overtake my entire body, and idk if there’s a clearer way for my mind to tell me that no, you don’t want any of that, trust me.

That’s another thing. Maybe I’m just scared. I have debilitating anxiety, I’m terrified of literally everything, of course that, added to my body image issues and complete inexperience in all manners romantic or sexual, would result in these types of feelings. Maybe I just haven’t met the right person yet who will awaken my attraction to real people and cause me to want a partner and romance and sex and whatever else. Maybe I’ve convinced myself that I’m too much of a mess for anyone to love me so it’s better to label myself as aroace before I get my heart broken. I don’t know. But writing it off on all that doesn’t feel right, and while I’m not exactly the best judge of my own feelings, my gut is telling me that I’m wrong. It’s not anxiety and inexperience, it’s my very real borderline aromantic and asexual feelings finally being acknowledged.

I think back on my life. I thought I had serious crushes before, I even had a girlfriend for a few months, but that was all initiated by someone else. The other person showed interest first and I thought “Okay, they’re pretty enough, maybe I can do this, maybe I just need to get into it and the feelings will come later”. Nothing ever went anywhere beyond hand holding or brief hugs, and I was okay with that. I enjoyed spending time with them and lit up whenever they showed up and thought that’s what loving someone felt like. But now that I have real friends that I’m 100% sure I’m not attracted to, I realised I feel the exact same way towards them. I just like being with people who want to spend time with me and who I share common interests with, and I like being paid attention to. Nothing romantic to it. When it comes to my good friends I always had a position of “Well I don’t find them particularly attractive but if they were romantically interested in me then I’d go for it” and thought that was a crush. It’s no wonder anything vaguely romantic in my life ended before it could properly start. Really hard to be in love with or build a relationship with someone who clearly doesn’t feel romantically interested in you, even if they’re trying very hard to be.

And that’s the center of the whole issue. There’s nothing wrong with being aroace, nor with being wrong about the label you chose when you were 12. What makes be sob for hours is this feeling as if a knife was driven through my heart. All these years I’ve been subconsciously lying to myself and I didn’t even know. I can’t blame myself for that, I’m aware, I had no way of realising I was wrong because I never had any experience. But the pain and confusion and sense of being lost are still there, beyond all rationalisation. And all those times I said I wanted to be railed by a pretty girl and other similar things to that? Also not true. I said those things because it felt like what a horny queer girl should say. It wasn’t a conscious lie, I really believed it when I said it, it never even registered as false until now. Until I dug deep inside myself and realised I don’t want to be railed by anyone in any way ever. For the longest time I genuinely thought I wanted what’s normal for queer allosexual women to want. It’s hard coming to terms with that I really, really don’t. I’ll definitely need some time to process everything properly,

Honestly, this revelation isn’t too surprising, all things considered. I once had a conversation with someone who talked about those younger years of every queer girl, staring at other girls in the changing rooms, wanting to date them, wanting to be a boy so it’d be possible before they knew gay people existed and becoming sneakier with their glances after they found out. And I really couldn’t relate to that. I’ve never felt attracted enough to someone to experience any of that. Back then I thought I couldn’t relate bc I never had a sexuality crisis nor did I hide my sexuality from the other girls in my class, almost all of whom were queer too. Turns out I just genuinely don’t experience attraction like that. Or at least I think I don’t. I don’t know. Now that I’ve got most of my thoughts regarding all this on ‘paper’, hopefully I’ll have a clearer mind and can come to a more concrete conclusion. And for now… let’s just put me very firmly in the ‘questioning’ box.

[innerfare]

You’re Jealous

 Summary: You get jealous of someone else in his life.

Characters: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Ace, Sabo, Law, and Kid

Genre: Slight Angst // Fluff

CW: None // SFW

——— 

Luffy:

He never told you Boa Hancock was in love with him, and when you find out, you have to remove yourself from the situation before you have an emotional outburst and start something with the Pirate Empress. The problem is, you don’t even know which emotion will spill out of you. Finding out the world’s most beautiful woman, and a powerful Warlord, no less, is desperate to marry Luffy is a whirlwind, to say the least. Luffy can seem clueless at times, but his emotional intelligence is through the roof, and he picks up on what has you upset almost straight away. He knows to give you some space, and when he senses you’re ready, he approaches you with a handful of wildflowers he picked. He doesn’t really say much, just pulls you into a hug, presses a few kisses into your cheek and temple, and says in your ear, “you’re my girl.” 

Zoro:

He didn’t mention Perona was also at Mihawk’s castle for those two years until a few months after the crew gets together. He tells a story that features her, and you realize there was a woman keeping him company. Your heart drops into your stomach. Zoro insists he didn’t mention her because he didn’t think she was relevant; the only thing Perona did those two years was annoy him. He’s actually the one who won’t let it go, not you (even though you are pretty jealous). Whereas you’d prefer not to talk about it, Zoro is wracked with guilt because he’d never considered the whole thing in a relationship context. Him fretting constantly over it actually heals your jealousy because you realize you’ve never seen him panic over the prospect of hurting anyone else’s feelings. 

Sanji:

Even with a third eye, Pudding is stunning. And Sanji almost married her. It was before you two were together, but listening to the stories from Whole Cake, hearing how close he came to marrying another woman, knowing she really did fall in love with his kind heart and wonderful cooking, turns you into a little green monster. You know you shouldn’t feel jealous of a woman you’ve never met before, a woman Sanji chose not to marry, but you can’t help it. Sanji is completely shocked that you would feel jealous over his relationship (if it could even be called that) with Pudding, though after thinking about it some more, he does realize why you might be jealous that he had a fiancé. His solution is to bring you a bouquet of roses and walk you through the dark details of his life, telling you things he’s never outright told anyone, so you understand the special place you have in his life. 

Ace:

He collects people without trying, and often times, without realizing, either. Ace thinks he’s just making friends, but you see the way the women he laughs and shares drinks with are drawn to him like plants to the sun. He promises them freedom and adventure (and he has a very nice laugh), and you can see how it excites them. You don’t really mind it, knowing Ace well enough to see the way he holds those women at arm’s length, even if he seems close with them (such is the magic of Fire First Ace). But Yamato makes you jealous. It’s not hearing the way they laughed together but hearing the way they fought that gets to you. You know how Ace lives to fight and even just roughhouse, you know how he’s a rough and tumble guy, and you worry you’re not tough enough. Should you be punching his arm when he makes a joke? Should you be trying to trip him out on deck? What should you be doing? When you finally come clean with Ace about what’s been bothering you, he actually laughs. “If I wanted to be with someone who gives me hell, I’d be sleeping in Marco’s cabin every night. Besides,” he says, scooping you up in his arms, “I like being able to manhandle you.” 

Sabo:

Sabo is a flirt, and you knew that going into your relationship. It actually doesn’t bother you when he flashes that charming smile of his at someone else or swoops in to save a damsel in distress (a speciality of his) and even serves to entertain, especially on the rare occasions his flirtations are rebuked. What does bother you, though, is his tight relationship with Koala. You know it’s ridiculous to be envious, you know Koala would sooner saw off her arm than kiss the man she considers her irksome big brother, but they’ve known each other since they were little kids, and Koala has been through so much with Sabo that the pair have such a close bond. It’s not the angry kind of jealousy that bubbles up in you when Koala mentions something about Sabo’s past that she assumes you know but you don’t, just the sad kind that you try to keep to yourself. Surprisingly, Sabo notices, though you don’t realize until he hugs you from behind and mumbles in your ear that he’s glad you’re the only one who knows he has a skincare routine, his silly words diffusing your mood and acting as the exact affirmation you needed. If it’s not enough, though, he’ll happily prove his loyalty to you by challenging Koala to a karate match, though.  

Law:

Dr. Law and Dr. Robin sure do get along well- so well, in fact, you can’t help but wonder if they are better suited to each other than you and him. Even if they didn’t have such good chemistry, it would be impossible not to feel a touch of jealousy toward the archeologist. She’s intelligent, beautiful, fiercely loyal, a member of the Straw Hats, and has an impressive bounty that she earned even before she became a pirate. Needless to say, you find yourself brooding when the Robin brings him a beer and sits down beside him to discuss the immune systems of fishmen, a topic both are rather interested in. Of course, you’re interested in that, too, thus the reason Law realizes something is wrong when you don’t participate in the conversation. He ends up excusing the two of you and taking you to bed, worrying you had too much to drink, the thought you may be jealous never once occurring to him. You end up not saying anything (many thing in your relationship with Law being unspoken) and just sleeping it off, the fact that he excused the two of you proof enough of his loyalty. 

Kid:

He doesn’t ever talk about his first love, Victoria. In fact, you didn’t even know she existed until Killer got drunk one night and began speaking of his dearly departed. What he didn’t mention was that Kid, too, had been in love with her. It only comes up the next night when you mention it to Wire, who mentions it was the death of his first love, Victoria, that put Kid on the war path and united the first four members of the Kid Pirates. Realizing Wire messed up, Heat chimes in to say, “he’d do the same for you.” But you’re not convinced, mainly because Kid never told you any of this. It tears you apart, leaves you tossing and turning for nights on end, until you finally burst into Kid’s workshop one night ranting about how he doesn’t trust you and holds you at arm’s length. “Heat says you’d do the same for me, but-” Kid cuts you off and says, “I wouldn’t do the same, I’d do worse. Much, much worse.” And from the wicked gleam in his eye, you’re inclined to believe him. 

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

[slxtarchive]

𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡 … you’ve never been eaten out and matt’s never tried…so firsts all around

you and matt had been hanging out in your room for the past hour. you had just gotten home and he decided to stay over for a bit.

you were watching a show that had a tiny sex scene in it.

“it cannot be that good.” your jaw was dropped as the actress was screaming.

matt laughed at your comment. “that guys ego is definitely high if he’s getting a reaction like that.

“yeah, like she’s practically screaming and shouting. although, who am i to judge. i wouldn’t know.” you shrugged. “but i mean if she’s screaming that loud at being eaten out, imagine how good the sex is.”

unfortunately that comment you made had matt fantasizing about how it would be to eat a girl out and it was odd because he saw you as the girl.

he was fidgeting with his shorts as he felt himself harden at his thoughts. he decided to try to ignore it until you asked him an interesting question.

“had a girl ever screamed like that when you had given her head? i’m curious.” you popped a popcorn in your mouth.

he hesitated. “u-uhh, i’ve never really…” he didn’t finish his sentence. you gulped.

“really?” you asked in shock. “sorry, i just…i’d just thought that you have.”

“no..have you ever..you know..” he didn’t want to say anything else.

“ever…” you were waiting for him to ask.

“been eaten out.” he blurted. his boner making things worse.

“oh! um no i haven’t. i’ve like imagined it but nope, never happened to me.” the movie was the least of both of your worries now that you were both thinking of the same topic.

matt couldn’t help but imagine how you’d be in that situation. someone’s head in between your thighs — preferably his head.

“all quiet now.. have i made things awkward.” you pretended to wince.

“oh, no sorry i was just thinking… i kinda wanna know how to. like how to eat a girl out, it’d be good to have some experience i guess.” he confessed.

“uh huh…” you nodded slowly. “maybe…you can practice? on me.”

his eyes widened at your proposal. “you don’t think it would be a little weird?”

“no, im just gonna tell you what feels good and then we’ll both get what we want! given you make me cum, duh.” you laughed.

keep it cool. you thought.

“are you sure?” matt asked again, not wanting for this to be something you’d regret in the near future.

you nodded and that’s how you got to the position in which you were leaned against the headboard waiting for matt to take your underwear off.

“go ahead.” you reassured him as he toyed with your waistband.

“okay.” he whispered pulling your panties down slowly.

the suspense of the situation had you aroused. you were excited but at the same time nervous. you kept telling yourself, he’s your best friend, it’s okay. he won’t do anything you’re uncomfortable with.

your pussy and matt were face to face. he gulped a little intimated because he wanted to be good at it.

“sooo i just, go right in?” he asked pursing his lips.

“i guess so… maybe idk, foreplay? or wait is this considered foreplay?” you asked confused.

“i don’t- im not sure.” he said, unable to tear his eyes away from your center.

“okay, so maybe like use your fingers first?” you knew it was seconds away from being awkward.

as you were about to just say forget it you felt matt’s finger ghost over your leaky hole. he gathered some of your arousal and lathered it over your clit. he then continued to stimulate your clit. your legs bucked up at the sensation.

“am i doing okay?” he whispered, the only thing illuminating his face was the sunset lamp in the corner of your room.

“y-yeah.” you moaned slightly, as he continued to stimulate you. you looked down at him, his fluffy hair and his beautiful eyes. the sight alone had you wanting to just-

your thoughts couldn’t even complete because you felt matt’s hot tongue on you. you let out a deep breath as you leaned back and closed your eyes at the pleasure.

his tongue flicked over your clit as he looked up at you for reassurance that he was making you feel good. while matt was taking his time, his thoughts were elsewhere enjoying the way you tasted. in seconds he was devouring you, addicted to the way you tasted.

he licked a long stripe over your center pulling your thighs toward him. he sucked on your puffy clit. “r-right there. fuck—” your eyes tightly shut.

“you taste so fucking good…” matt muttered against you. he was consuming you. it was as if he lost all control in himself. he couldn’t get enough. “tell me how good i’m doing.”

you nodded quickly. “you’re doing s-so good.” you threaded your hands through his brunette hair. yes you had fantasized about this situation — not with matt specifically but this situation for sure.

matt’s ego boosted as a spurt of whimpers escaped you as he entered his middle finger in you. he pumped it in and out whilst continuing his previous work on your clit. he had been doing so good, you were on the verge of cumming.

matt could tell too — by the way your thighs were starting to close around his head and shake. he didn’t know how he had lived without the taste of you on his tongue. he didn’t ever want to stop. he wanted to do this everyday of his life.

you tried to blurt out the words but you struggled; sensitive to how fast he was flicking your clit. he looked up to see your struggle and grinned against you.

“go on, cum on my tongue. i wanna taste it.” he begged. matt needed to taste you. he enjoyed seeing you writhing underneath him. the way you were struggling to grapple onto reality.

you nodded finally feeling your body seize up as your orgasm washed over you like a big wave. you were tugging on matt’s hair trying to get him away from your sensitive pussy but your orgasm made him want to push you further.

you had begun to feel so sensitive you tried to push his head away as much as you could while whining. “f-fuck — sensitive matt.” you begged and he finally pulled away.

your chest was heaving up and down. you had started to slow your breathing and opened your eyes. matt with your shiny substance drooled and covering his mouth and chin. he had a smug grin on his face symbolizing he was definitely pleased with himself.

“please tell me you’ll let me do that again.” he licked his lips.

you took another deep breath and combed through his hair with your hand. “how could i not?”

© slxtarchive

[moonlit-imagines]

Headcanons for being Johnny Lawrence’s daughter

Johnny Lawrence x daughter!reader

warnings: alcohol, underage drinking, classic johnny sexism <3

a/n: WHAT! ME write a fic thats not gn, i know. im shocked too but its just bc i feel johnny is so gender-stereotypey that doing this gn wouldn’t work very well but very open to a son!r or nb!r if anyone is interested (bc seriously. johnny cannot help but bring up genders). also i just want to say that a lot of this (not all!) honestly reminds me of or are actual things that have happened w my dad bc johnny is literally my dad if my dad was like 8 years older i think also i wrote this all in one sitting ALSO NO COBRA KAI SEASON 6 SPOILERS

prompt:

GIRL DAD!

you always kinda just gravitated toward living with your dad

“y/n, i’m so proud of you. i never have to worry about you. you can take care of yourself. robby on the other hand, i worry about him. i think girls are just more self sufficient” -johnny, a little drunk

“thanks dad” -you, also a little drunk (hes a “cool dad”)

he was the type of parent that “prefers that if you’re gonna do something stupid at least do it while he’s around” aka underage drinking

whenever he stays out late you fall asleep in his bed. and lock him out

“y/n! open the door!” -johnny, banging on the door

“no! your bed is more comfortable” -you

he thought it was sweet honestly but he did want to sleep in his bed

sort of like a lesson not to come home late all drunk and gross

he was VERY against letting you drive his car

“dad, i need my license!” -you

“no woman is getting behind the wheel of my firebird” -johnny

“why do you have to make it about women? i’ll fight you” -you

“you’ll lose that fight” -johnny

“oh, so you’d fight a teenage girl? wow, real classy, dad” -you

“no, but i’d fight my teenage daughter. i brought you into this world and i’ll take you out” -johnny

you honestly had a great sense of humor with johnny, but you’d check him if he said anything too messed up

“dad, it’s not the 80’s anymore, you can’t say that” -you

“dont tell me what i can and cant say! the 80’s were awesome, i wish it was the 80’s again” -johnny

“so i’ve heard” -you

he helped you with your homework as a kid until like, 2nd grade when multiplication and division got involved

he did teach you karate growing up! but mostly the basics, for self defense purposes

“hey, never let any guy try to impress you with his karate skills. he’s probably a douche” -johnny, pausing “i sure was”

late night movie marathons (70s/80s classics for sure)

he took care of you during your first hangover (high school parties, ya know)

“didn’t i teach you better than to mix liquors” -johnny

“ugghhhh” -you

yes, you have heard about daniel larusso. enough said LMAO

robby and you had a kind of sweet but distant relationship

occasional check-in texts

robby: are you doing okay with dad? he’s actually buying food and shit?

you: yeah! he’s fine right now, how’s mom? new stepdad yet? is he rich?

robby: mom’s not going anywhere she’d find a rich guy, but keep dreaming

you wear a lot of your dad’s old t-shirts. usually band tee’s

oh and he made sure you got into the “right music”

he used to drive you around in the firebird when you were a SMALL CHILD (front seat, no car seat!) and blast his old cassettes

for YEARS he’d pull the “who is this” “what song is this” game with the reasoning:

“if you wear a band shirt and some asshole asks you to name three songs, i want you to name ten” -johnny

listen. you were still “daddy’s girl” or whatever used to be a cute little saying and is now ruined but whatever

“dad, can i have twenty bucks?” -you

“for what” -johnny

“for fun. pleaseeee” -you

*johnny pulls out his wallet and gives you $40*

could he afford it? no. can he say no? also no.

the absolute fear he felt when you got your first period

“it’s fine, i can call mom” -you

“no, it’s not fine! i’ve had girlfriends before, i got this. stay here, i’ll be back” -johnny

he went to the store and bought the most random assortment of period products and pain meds and snacks and a heating pad

A for effort

when the diaz family moved in across from you guys, miguel took one look at you and johnny said:

“stay away from my daughter”

when the karate fuss got started you tried to keep your distance but sooner or later you joined the dojo and proved to your dad just how “badass” you could be

“take notes everyone, y/n’s gonna be the next all valley champ!” -johnny

taglist: @ravenmoore14 // @retvenkos // @sweetheartlizzie07 // @an4aaa // @summersimmerus // @xoxobabydolls // @sapphireplums // @petersgroupie // @ravenhood2792 // @evilcr0ne // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @elemental-of-magic //

[sleepydeprived]

A Chance for Redemption

—A mysterious high school student appears out of the blue, bearing the face of the late Martha Wayne and puzzling even Gotham's greatest detectives.

[chapter 3]

Mama I’m Chasing A Ghost.

| Platonic!Yandere!Batfam x Reader

The floor-to-ceiling windows of my bedroom looked out onto the manicured gardens of the estate, and in the distance, was a view of Gotham that never seemed to change.

The same scenery, the same routine.

The butlers, the maids, the drivers who ferried me from one lavish location to another.

Every day was like the last, but with one major exception;

Gotham Academy

For the first time in my life, I had been thrust into a world that wasn’t mine. My mother had insisted I’d go, telling me it was for my own good. I was homeschooled my entire life, my education confined to private tutors and digital classes.

That is.. until my mother moved me to a prestigious school a few months ago. I don’t know what changed her mind. She was always so hellbent on keeping my life private. Her sweet little girl that only she knew about.

But now here I am attending a school that is closely watched by weird, content-hungry journalists and creepy paparazzis hoping to catch a photograph of children with high titles.

Nevertheless, I felt like an outsider. A puzzle that didn’t quite fit. I was the new kid—the girl who came out of nowhere.

But being an outsider didn’t automatically mean loner.

My presence didn’t go unnoticed.

I was different. People knew it, felt it, and stared. Maybe it was the fact that I came from a family—a clan—that held such an influence over Gotham’s elites. I was basically one relative away from a famous celebrity or a corrupt politician.

But, of course, there was also the resemblance to Martha Wayne.

It was a ghost of a resemblance, really, but it haunted me all the same. From the first day I stepped onto campus, I heard the whispers;

She looks like Martha Wayne.

The wife of Thomas Wayne?

She could be her daughter...

Or granddaughter.

It had started out as idle speculation, but as the days passed, the gossip only grew.

People stared, talked behind my back, and pointed at me when they thought I wasn’t looking. They didn't know me, but they had already formed an opinion. The mystery girl. The girl who had somehow, inexplicably, appeared out of nowhere. The girl who had the same smile, the same eyes, the same air of dignity and grace as Gotham’s most beloved figure. The figure whose tragic death had left an indelible mark on the city.

I had never cared for the attention. In fact, I hated it. I’m not interested in being some object of fascination, and that’s just how I was raised. I’m not Martha Wayne nor am I related to her—or at least, that’s what I’ve been told. The more people asked, the more I pushed that idea away. But the whispers were constant.

It made me think. A lot. So much more than what I preferred.

And suddenly, the buried thoughts from childhood of who and where my biological father was came rushing back.

Ever since I was a child, I had learned to bury my feelings—bury the questions about my father, and why my mother wouldn’t speak of him. There had been one conversation about it, years ago when my mother still had the time to let me in her study.

"Your father is not someone you need to concern yourself with," mother had said, her voice cold and stern. "Do not ask about him. Do not seek him. He is not a part of your life. Understand?"

And now, in the halls of Gotham Academy, that memory itched at me, more often than ever before. The bell rang, signaling the end of another school day, but I didn’t hurry to leave. I stood at my locker, staring at my reflection in the shiny surface of the metal.

Do I look like her?

————————

taglist:

@leeleecats @mariadvorak @deans-spinster-witch @rainlovewrites @xoacesgf @whiteoakoak @uknowimdumb @otterluver05

[juyeoz]

BABY I — PARK JONGSEONG

Having a crush on Park Jay, your school’s student president, was quite hard. Especially when he was the centre of attention for many girls. However, who would’ve known he was pinning after you this whole time?

PAIRING — friend!jay x fem!reader (ft. sunoo from enhypen and hanni from newjeans)

CONTAINS — fluff, slight angst, somewhat crack, friends to lovers, mutual pinning to an extent, not proofread, mentions of being stood up, and y/n is kind of introverted.

WORDCOUNT — 3591 words

NOTE — first note on this account!!! just wanted to say baby i by ariana grande inspired this it’s SOOO good pls listen on repeat when reading!

Park Jay was the student president of your school. He was helpful, trustworthy, smart, athletic, and nice to everyone who came into his vicinity. 

Obviously, you weren’t the only one who loved these aspects of him. He was well known amongst the male population of your school, but that didn’t mean the girls weren’t head over heels for him too.

Which only meant more competition for you. 

In your eyes, Jay was out of your league. He was way more outgoing than you would ever be, keeping many friends at his side, whilst you kept a small group of friends throughout your four years of highschool. 

“Hello? (Name), what were you going to say?” A voice questioned, bringing you out of your cluttered thoughts.

Your eyebrows perked up in surprise, completely forgetting who you were currently standing before—Park Jay. 

He slightly shook his head as a sign for you to continue your sentence. 

“Uh…” You muttered with your eyes looking everywhere but him. 

“What is it? There’s a meeting soon. I can’t wait for long.” Jay spoke again. His words seemed harsh, but his voice was soft.

“Right, sorry. Nevermind what I was going to say, it’s okay.” You reassured him with an apologetic smile. 

Great, another moment added to your ‘Book of Failures’.

Jay was confused, yet he smiled back at you and left in silence. You hated how perfect his smile was. Everything was perfect about him. There wasn’t one thing you didn’t like about him, however, you were pretty sure that spoke for everyone as well.

He was a perfect guy and you were, well, ordinary. You preferred to keep to yourself and stay away from any judgement, with an exception, of course.

Your best friend, Pham Hanni. She was someone you met during elementary school and someone you would forever trust.

“Let me guess, you failed again?” Hanni questioned from the desk beside you. You sighed at her words as your head hit the surface of your desk.

“I very much did.” You groaned out while Hanni smiled. A hand gently made its way to the crown of your head, caressing the area softly. 

“It will be fine! Everyone gets flustered when doing something like this.” She reassured you, but it wasn’t of any help.

“Do you think I could ever confess? I mean, do you know how many people like him? There’s at least a 1 in 600 chance of him reciprocating whatever my heart feels when I’m around him.”

“Well, you guys are close, right?” Hanni asked, but only received silence in return. 

“Right…?” She said once more.

Silence. 

“(Name), don’t tell me you two barely know each other!”

“No, of course not! We are, well, I don’t know. Could you even call us friends?” You asked, a groan escaping your lips shortly after.

“I mean, what are some of your interactions with each other?” 

“After the project we did together in English class, he would say hi to me in the halls, ask me for help in class, and offer me snacks here and there. However, that is it.”

“I’d say that’s between acquaintances and friends? Right?” Hanni pulled the lollipop she snacked on out of her mouth and pointed it at you.

“That is still a lot though! Probably more than anyone has ever had. I think you might have a chance.”

“Or are you just saying that to make me feel satisfied?” You asked while looking over at her.

“No, seriously! But if your words keep getting tongue tied, I don’t think you’ll have a chance anytime soon.” 

Your brows furrowed at her words as you landed a soft hit to her shoulder.

“Careful, my lollipop! I don’t want to drop it.” She exclaimed, her eyes widening at the treat in her hold. You rolled your eyes at this reaction of hers, it was common from her. You were pretty much used to it.

Your eyes glanced over to the doorway as one of your classmates walked in. Hanni looked at your sudden flustered state in confusion and turned around. 

There was no other reason for you to react this way. Park Jay, the boy you had a crush on, was currently walking through the doorway with his younger friend, Kim Sunoo, beside him. 

“You’re so obvious about it.” Hanni said, turning around to face you again and placing the lollipop in her mouth once more.

“I am not! There’s no way he knows.” You said with your face toward Hanni but your eyes on Jay.

He looked over at your seat—a common routine of his—and waved towards you with his signature smile present on his face. After a brief moment of hesitation, you waved back at him as a small smile broke through your flustered condition.

Hanni looked at you, then at Jay as Sunoo did the same. The two boys made their way to their seats up front and began talking once again.

However, the conversation was completely different than the one they were previously having.

“Seriously, are you going to tell her how you feel?” Sunoo questioned as Jay shushed him. 

“Of course not. Do you think she would even like me back? You’re funny.” Jay said while taking his seat.

“Jay, so many people like you.”

“That’s the point. What if she thinks I’m a player?” The boy asked while reaching into his backpack to grab his notebook.

“I doubt she would. There are a ton of options for you at school, but you decided to pin after a girl who you worked on a project with for two weeks. Two weeks.” 

“And those were the best days of my life. Seriously, I didn’t know someone like her existed in our school until this year. I don’t know how I survived until senior year without her presence.”

“Gross! You sound so in love—”

“Shut up! You’re so loud.” Jay whisper-shouted while covering Sunoo’s lips with both of his hands. 

“I’m sorry. Anyway, please think about it. It hurts to see you interact with her continuously just to not confess whatever you’re feeling.” Sunoo said while removing Jay’s hands from his face. 

“Whatever.” Jay mumbled as their teacher walked in. He would be lying if he said he didn’t believe that Sunoo was right. However, he was too nervous to ruin what you two already had.

The keys jangled in the doorknob’s keyhole as you struggled to unlock the art classroom. It wasn’t normal for classrooms to be locked, not at all, but this one was abandoned. 

Nobody used it anymore except for you. It was your quiet place. A place you went to ease your mind and located on the second floor. So, there was quite a process getting there. 

Giving out keys to abandoned classrooms was forbidden at your school. It was an unspoken rule that all teachers followed. However, your homeroom teacher trusted you. You were an excellent student in her eyes and that was enough for her to make up her mind.

The door clicked shut behind you and you made your way to the isolated desk you always sat at. All you had to do was get some classwork done. It wasn’t anything major, but the library would have been too loud at this time.

After all, it was lunchtime.

The sun shone through the thin material curtains, making your figure cast a shadow over your work. Usually, you sat here because it was the closest desk to the window. You gained a great view at the soccer field.

The one Jay always played on. 

Every time you came here, you constantly had to fight the urge to glance over at them. A little glance always went a long way, leaving you distracted for the rest of the hour. 

Giving in, your pencil movement came to a stop as you looked out the window from your seat. As usual, there were boys playing soccer in the summer heat, however, Jay wasn’t there. 

For a moment, you thought you saw wrong and took a closer look. Yet, you still couldn’t find him. 

You were too distracted to even hear the click of the door opening. Too distracted to even hear the footsteps that made its way to you. But you weren’t distracted enough to miss the sound of a desk being placed beside you. 

“What are you doing here?” You asked in a somewhat low voice. 

It was Jay. The boy you were previously looking for.

“Resting. You?” He replied while laying his head on his arms all while facing you. You avoided eye contact with him as usual. His gaze was too flustering for you. You couldn’t handle it.

“I’m studying.” You said and looked at your blank notebook page. You could feel his gaze still on you. It felt like it could see through you at any given moment. Once again, it was too much for you to handle. 

You needed to get rid of him quickly.

“You can’t be in here. It’s off limits.” You said, still not looking at the poor boy.

“Then why are you here? It’s an abandoned classroom and yet you’re here.” Jay said back. He wasn’t wrong. To be honest, he never was.

“Our teacher gave me permission. I work here often.” You explained as your pencil began to move, writing absolutely nothing but scribbles.

“Me too.” He said, leaving you confused. You looked over at him with a puzzled expression which only left him with a smile. 

“Your eyes are pretty.” Jay said and left your unsaid question unanswered.

His words only made you look away once more as your puzzled expression was replaced with a flustered one.

“What did you mean by your previous words?” You asked, discarding his compliment. 

“Which one? Your eyes are pretty? I mean, they truly are—”

“The other ones.” You interrupted, cutting him off. 

“Oh, Mrs. Jang lets me use this classroom to cool off my head when I get overwhelmed. I was shocked that it was already unlocked when I came. I didn’t know you used it too.”

“We never run into each other.” 

“I see,” he sighed and nuzzled his face further into his arms. 

You could still feel his gaze on you as silence fell upon you both. You were confused. Why did he compliment you? Did he like you back or was he only teasing you? Did he do this with every girl he saw or were you his only exception? 

Which one was it?

“Why do you keep doing that?” Jay’s voice pushed through your thoughts, startling you.

“Doing what?” You asked, still avoiding eye contact with him.

“That,” he began. “You don’t look at me when you talk to me. Do you hate the sight of my face or something?” 

“Of course not!” You exclaimed, catching both of you off guard. 

“I mean, I’m just shy.” 

“For sure.” He teased you.

Silence filled the classroom once more as you tried to do your work. Heavy emphasis on the word tried. 

He was still looking at you. You knew he was and he knew you knew too. 

“(Name).” Jay called. 

The way your name rolled off of his tongue was too much for you. You hated the sound of it. It was a precise pronunciation with a slight ring to it.

You swallowed thickly and nodded at his call, giving him the signal to proceed.

“Do you like me?”

“And then what?!” Hanni exclaimed, waiting for the rest of the story to leave your lips.

“What do you mean?” You asked. Your words only left Hanni feeling dumb.

“Was that it?” She asked as part of her hoped you would say no. However, to her dismay, you nodded your head.

“(Name)? He literally asked if you liked him and you didn’t even reply?!” She said in a loud tone. Luckily, you two were at your house so it was fine for her to be this way. There was nobody to overhear your conversation anyway.

“You blew it. You blew it!” 

She was in distress. After waiting for this moment to happen, she felt like her world officially ended. 

“I freaked out, okay? The bell went right after that!” You said in an attempt to defend yourself. 

“Let me guess. You used the excuse of being late when returning the classroom key and ran out in a haste.” 

“Spot on.” You said with a groan.

“Did I really mess up?” You asked. 

“Is that even a question? Seriously, I don’t know what I’m going to do with you.” Her face went dull as she sighed. You were definitely a handful to take care of. 

“Wait, I have an idea.” She suddenly said and her face brightened up immediately. You looked over at her with a frown. 

“Do you have his number?” Hanni questioned. Hesitantly, you nodded at her words. You only got his number because of the English project you two had to do and would text occasionally, but out of the blue was not the best option.

“Absolutely not! That’s too far.” You said while shaking your head at the idea you had of her possible plan.

“Chillax, it’s not too far at all. It’s better than leaving his somewhat confession hanging in the air.” 

She had a point.

“Fine. What are you going to say?” You asked while giving her your phone. You were nervous for whatever tricks she was planning on pulling, but you handed her your phone regardless.

“You’ll see.” Hanni said and began typing away.

For a while your room went quiet. The only sounds heard were Hanni’s fingers tapping against your phone screen and the wind outside of your window.

“Here.” She said after three minutes and handed you your device. You looked at her, taking note of how she bit back her smile. 

You were scared to see what she did, but you weren’t even able to due to the sudden incoming call. 

“What the hell, Hanni?!” You exclaimed as she only smiled. She ushered for you to answer the call as you did exactly that—after leaving your room, of course.

“Hey.” His voice was soft as usual on the other line. It made your heart beat faster, making you feel stupid.

“Hello,” you greeted back, waiting for him to say whatever he called for.

“Is it true?” 

“Is what true?” You asked. 

What the hell did Hanni even text him for him to ask this?

“You liking me. Is it true?” He sounded desperate. He wanted to know immediately. 

You hesitated on replying. Would it mess everything up, or what? His question back in the art classroom wasn’t something that sounded like he was looking for reciprocating feelings. If you said yes, where would that response take you?

“Yes, it is.” You replied in a somewhat whisper. Jay exhaled harshly, leaving you confused. Did you mess up? Why did he sigh so harshly? What did Hanni put you through? 

You turned around in a rush to open the door. You were nervous. You didn’t want to hear what came after his sigh. Not at all.

You were about to hand the phone back to Hanni, but was brought to an abrupt stop.

“Good.” Jay said. 

“Let’s talk about this in person tomorrow. I don’t want things to escalate on call, okay?” 

You hesitated in replying to his suggestion. Was that a good okay or a bad okay? Was he planning to reject you harshly? Was your friendship over?

“Is that okay with you, (Name)?” His voice once again pierced through your thoughts, bringing you back to reality.

“Yes. That’s okay with me.” You replied and you two said your goodbye before hanging up.

“So?” Hanni asked, waiting for you to explain what happened.

“I don’t know.” Was all you could say before flopping forward onto your bed with a racing heart.

Jay, on the other hand, paced back and forth in his room. You liked him and that was great! However, he didn’t want to ask you out over the phone. That wasn’t romantic at all.

How should he go about this? Should he confess in the morning before class or at lunch in the art classroom again? Should he bring flowers? Of course he should. Many people loved them.

But wait, were you allergic to them? Maybe not if you helped out the garden club leader Yang Jungwon that one day, right? He remembered the moment vividly. 

It was the time he confirmed his feelings for you. The way you smiled at the boy and listened attentively when he explained things to you. Honestly, that should’ve been him, but he had his moments during the English project.

Part of him even thought you liked Jungwon and not him. That was the only reason why he asked you the question at lunch yesterday. Even if the garden club incident happened last month, it still managed to bug him everyday.

At this point, his frequent questions wouldn’t get answered. His best option was to sleep. He could think of everything tomorrow morning. Before heading to sleep he sent you a quick message, letting you know where to meet him the next day. 

Near the garden, fifteen minutes after eight a.m. Easy and possibly romantic.

However, when the next morning came, you stood alone near the garden, fifteen minutes after eight a.m. And Jay was nowhere in sight.

You checked your phone constantly, hoping he sent you a text, letting you know of the change of plans. To your dismay, there was nothing. It was absolutely a ghost town on your phone and also five minutes left until the bell went. 

Were you just stood up by your crush? Most likely. You felt embarrassed. You were completely right about Jay not liking you back, nevertheless, you let Hanni’s words get to your head. Was it her fault? Absolutely not, but you wondered. What if you never gave her your phone at that time? Would you and Jay still be just friends?

A hand grabbed your wrist, halting your movements. You didn’t even get far from the spot you stood at. It was so sudden and scary and their grip never faltered.

You turned around and were, luckily, met with an out of breath Jay. The boy who you had a crush on and who you thought stood you up.

“I’m sorry.” He said while letting go of your wrist and standing up.

“I woke up late, I didn’t mean to leave you standing there alone. I swear of it.” He explained as you listened, avoiding eye contact. 

“It’s fine. What did you want to say?” You asked.

“First off, please look at me when I say all of this.” He pleaded, causing you to slowly look over at him.

“Okay. I really didn’t mean to leave you waiting. I had my alarm set and everything, yet I still slept past it. I couldn’t sleep all night because of this. I was nervous.” 

You remained silent, in which he took as a sign to continue.

“When I saw you text me the other day, I was thrilled. I thought I ruined everything by asking you if you liked me during lunch. Seriously, the way you ran out so suddenly left me worried.” 

“I’m sorry. I was flustered.” You apologised and he shook his head.

“It’s okay. I’m glad I found out you truly did like me though.” He said as a slight smile made its way to his face.

“Do you like me back?” You asked, genuinely. He didn’t say he did. You weren’t sure if he did either.

“What?” He questioned back.

“Do you like me back?” You repeated, hoping it would get through him this time.

“Of course I do. Why wouldn’t I?” He was dumbfounded that you even asked him that. Was it not obvious by his many interactions with you compared to others? 

“Please, don’t say it like that.” You muttered and avoided eye contact with him again. 

“Why not? Does it make you flustered?” 

“Yes, it does.” Your voice was quiet and made Jay’s smile grow bigger.

“I’ve liked you for a while now, (Name). Ever since the English project actually. Those were the best days of my life.” 

“Not even being promoted to student president?” You questioned as your heart beat increased drastically. 

“Not even close.” He said back.

You remained silent at his confession and played with the dirt below your shoes. 

“So, what do you say?” He asked. 

“What do you mean?” 

“Can I be your boyfriend?” He asked again.

“Enough of that!” You exclaimed, softly hitting his shoulder.

“What am I doing wrong?” He was confused. He didn’t even do anything this time. It was a genuine question. 

“Can I, (Name)?” 

He did it again. The way he said your name only left you even more flustered as you let out a mumbled ‘yes.’ 

He could barely hear what you said and only picked up the ‘s’ sound at the end of your word. The boy before you smiled. 

He was glad you said yes. 

“I’m glad.” He voiced out and engulfed you into a hug which you reciprocated. 

The bell finally went once you two began to hug. Those were the longest five minutes in your life, but they were definitely worth it. Hanni and Sunoo were most likely going to have a field day with this new information. 

You could say, they were the ones who made this all happen with their constant pushing, right?

Yeah, most definitely.

© JUYEOZ

ENHYPEN PERM TAGLIST — @miumura @macapunoz @kxppachu

[ajortga]

affection deprived

pairing: jenna ortega x fem reader

authors note: i do not like this but hopefully you do, please send more requests

word count: 1.5k+

-

based off this request!

-

where r asks emma to hold jenna's hand to see if she notices and the second emma held jennas hand she immediately knew it wasnt r's hand

-🥝

It was another filming day. You come in at least 4 times a week, rather if it’s to run a scene over, hair and makeup, a chemistry read or checking on costumes. 

As you get on set, you grab a coffee (that always manages to go untouched and goes cold) while playing a thumb war with your best friend, Emma Myers.

“Do they have strawberries today?” You ask while having your tongue slightly stuck out in concentration. “I don’t know where they get them from, but they’re always so perfectly sweet.”

Emma giggles, trapping your thumb as you squeal. “Gotcha! 1..2.. I think they do, I saw watermelons too if I remember correctly. 3… 4..”

You giggle, huffing when she wins the match. “At least those will make my day. Hey, your hands are so soft.” You begin playing with her hands, admiring how squishy they are.

“Thanks, babycakes,” the blonde jokes, holding your hand as you both swing back and forth while walking through set.

If anything, holding hands makes you think of Jenna. You haven’t been cuddly with her at the moment. You think it’s because she’s so caught up in work and how you always seem to hold her hand, that she doesn’t notice when you’re not. It’s like everywhere you go she automatically thinks her hands are intertwined with your warm ones.

“Hey, Emma. I wanted to ask you something,” you say, glancing into the distance as you see your girlfriend unaware of your presence far away, talking to one of the directors.

“What is it? You need me to help you with something?”

You nod, tearing your eyes away from the ones that weren’t looking at you to the ones that were. “You think you could help me out in trying to cast some spell on Jenna to make her realize that I miss her touches?”

“Oh yes.” The blonde says, making a small ‘pshhhh’ sound as she takes out her invisible wand. “Jenna Marie Ortega, I command you to snap out of your acting character and recognize your girlfriend’s needs!” She says, swaying up and down.

Your eyes roll, watching her be silly and take the opportunity to snap a photo. “Uh huh. I don’t know.. Okay. Jenna and I used to do this thing where I’d sneak under the table and cling onto her hand. It’s just been something that we’ve done ever since.”

In your relationship, you were the sucker for the people who knew you inside and out. Jenna was just that person. She’d rub your knuckles gently in a circle with her thumb whenever you grew nervous, always came home from her other film projects with something you’d like. 

Obviously she still does, you’ve just been feeling like you’ve had the lack of affection. “Which makes you grumpy,” Emma would say. You would sulk before filming a scene and Jenna would’ve noticed if hadn’t a distraction popped up. It was almost like you could see the small puzzles in her head would begin to turn then be interrupted. 

“So.. How is me holding your girlfriend’s hand going to do anything?”

“Hopefully it makes her notice how AFFECTION DEPRIVED I AM!” You almost yell. If she really thought Emma’s hand was really yours, you think you’d break up with her. (You would never be the one to break up first.)

-

It was Friday night. Some would say it was the night to party all night long. 

They were true.

Almost every Friday the Wednesday cast would gather at someone’s house, preferably Georgie’s because he had a trampoline and some dope snacks. You didn’t want to admit that when you and Jenna first saw how many good snacks he had, you slammed them into your bag. Jenna brought an extra tote bag smashed under the things in her backpack to push all the snacks in there the next time you went to Georgie’s house.

You stare down at your hand, chatter filling the room as everyone talks while eating. You wonder if it’s any special. You’re not sure why it matters so much to you. It's just like every other hand, right?

No one knows you better than Jenna, maybe you should just be straightforward with her and the lack of affection you’ve been feeling lately. 

“Ems?” You holler, looking around. You find her on the couch across from your girlfriend, in a deep conversation with each other.

And when Jenna turns to you with those sweet brown eyes, you feel like the happy giddy feeling in your chest. The feeling that lingered when you had a silly, puppy loved crush on the girl for the first time. You were a bundle of nerves, squeaking whenever you talked to her, cheeks flushing easily. 

And she was yours. Except that feeling just popped up again. Your eyes dart the room, opening your mouth to say something, then shutting it. Instead, you give an awkward wave and run out.

Jenna gave you a smile, eyebrows furrowing as she watched you dash out.

“I think my baby is scared of me.”

Emma rolls her eyes, looking at you go, “An affection deprived baby.”

-

“Okay Agent Double Two x Five thousand and Sixty Two, it’s time.” You whisper, you and the blonde eyeing the target in front of you.

Like two partners in crime.

“Roger that.”

Emma crawls under the table and you almost break your facade, a silly smile threatening to plaster on your lips as you see her bump her head on accident. You can see Jenna, talking to Hunter as she brings her drink to her lips. 

You look away, looking down at Emma’s current journey.

As she keeps talking, Emma counts the hands to be able to reach the right one. She approaches the brunette, where her hands are against her lap, and lightly taps it. A stupid grin forms on your face when you see your girlfriend’s face contort into confusion.

Jenna processes what’s going on as her hands roam around. She lightly catches the hand and feels it. Assuming it was you, she intertwined her hand with yours.

It doesn’t take 10 seconds before she feels like something is out of place. The hand is soft, but it’s too soft. Yours is just the perfect amount of soft. She rubs her thumb over the person’s knuckles and the pattern isn’t familiar.

She immediately tugs her hand away and looks under the table to see a goofy Emma Myers looking back.

“Emma? What the hell are you doing under there?”

“I was actually looking for my ball that I dropped.” Emma backs herself up, shoving her hand into her pocket and bringing up a neon green ball with a smiley face. “Oh wow! It was here all along! Thanks!” 

The blonde crawls out as the other girl blinks and watches her walk off. Something about realizing it wasn’t you made Jenna feel disappointed. She hasn’t held your hand whenever you nudged it while walking down the streets together. She’d brush it off thinking that you did it by accident. 

The events of the endless hours of filming caught up to her, she had been neglecting you with her lack of affection. All the signs were in front of her, yet she didn’t notice.

She excuses herself and looks around for you, peeking her head into the living room to see you scrolling through your phone.

“Hey, cutie. I missed you.” The brunette says softly, catching your attention as she squeezes next to you. You don’t respond, making grabby arms. She almost feels how twitchy you are as you cling onto her, her fingers thread through your hair, hoping she can make you feel a little better.

Your hands touch something soft and you feel hers nudging into yours. The perfect amount of softness. She didn’t realize how much she missed your touch until you’re curled up to her like a koala.

“I’m sorry I’ve been neglecting your affection needs. I just feel like filming messes with my surroundings. I would never do it on purpose, okay?”

God you missed her. You missed her cuddles. You missed her hugs. You missed-

“Y/N.”

“You swear?”

“I’ll swear on.. I don’t know!”

She wraps her arms around you tightly, lifting you up on her lap as she presses her lips to your cheek. "I want you to tell me whenever you feel this way, okay? I can’t survive knowing that I let you feel a certain way you don’t like and I don’t even notice.”

“Okay. I will, I’m sorry. I didn’t want you to think that I’m too affectionate.”

“Never.”

A small grin comes upon your lips, “Now can you teach me how to distinguish people’s hands?”

For the rest of the night, Jenna lets her scent comfort you, your hand laced in hers for almost the rest of the party. When you see Emma, you give her a goofy smile and a thumbs up. She grins and does a two finger salute.

Let’s just say that all the days after, you were woken up with kisses and hugs, and definitely a bit too spoiled on set with a showered affectionate girlfriend. She even tied your shoes. Maybe it was too much, but you didn’t want anything less. Too much made you feel like the happiest girl in the world.

[nanamiscocksleeve]

Natural Breeding Clinic - Prologue

warnings: MDNI, breeding kinks, general sex, mention of infertility and insemination methods

a/n: It's here. Finally.

Teaser - Prologue - Patient 1

You take a deep breath and sit down in front of the laptop, waiting for the other person to join the call. Never in your life had you heard about such a unique reproductive center but lately, you’d been feeling the pull to start your own family. You’d discussed this with relevant people in your life. Everyone had said if you really wanted a child, then you should go with the options you thought were right for you.

You’d done the research, looking into different doctors and fertility clinics, but this one just stood out. There were testimonials from several happy families, saying their methods, though unconventional, were effective, and the doctors showcased on the website were all incredibly striking, each one handsome in their own way. But it was the success rate that caught your eye. A 98% guaranteed rate that you would be pregnant, and that pregnancy would be healthy. The site didn’t go into too much detail on their method, but the wording caught your eye.

“A natural breeding clinic” they’d called themselves. You’d finally bitten the bullet and called, requesting an information session. The screen suddenly lightens and you focus your attention as an attractive woman with shoulder-length brown hair comes into view. She smiles in a welcoming way before speaking.

“Hello. Am I speaking with Mrs. L/n?” You nod and smile back, trying not to look awkward or uncomfortable. 

“Perfect! My name is Shoko Ieiri, I’m the main coordinating nurse here at Jujutsu Fertility. Thank you for scheduling an information session with us.”

“Yes, of course. I just needed more details before I booked an appointment.”

“Indeed.” Shoko claps her hands together before continuing. “Let me start by telling you a little bit about ourselves. We’ve been around for almost 6 years now. What sets us apart is that we focus more on women’s comfort than most other clinics. And we are sought out by people who are willing to use a sperm donor. We do not perform insemination services with sperm that are not from our own stock.”

“Your own stock? Are you associated with a sperm bank? And screen all the donors yourself?”

“Not a sperm bank in the conventional sense. We have 5 doctors who keep excellent health and their sperm is regularly screened to ensure quality. They are the only stock we allow for insemination.”

You blink to make sure you haven’t misheard. “The…doctors? Are you saying the fertility doctor I’d be meeting with will also be my sperm donor?”

“That is correct.” Shoko nods her head to confirm. “You will be meeting with the doctor of your choosing for at least 5 sessions. They will need to be at least once a week. Some women take the week off and come in 5 days straight.”

“5…sessions?” you ask, confused by the wording.

“Yes. It’s to ensure the insemination process has occurred an optimal number of times.”

“Wait…so…I’m going to be inseminated multiple times? How much downtime do I need in between each insemination?”

“Hardly any. Our method isn’t like a typical clinic. Most women leave feeling very normal and a lot more satisfied than when they came in.”

“Not like a typical clinic? So…you don’t use the catheter method?”

“We use minimal medical equipment in our inseminations.”

“Minimal…so what does the procedure entail?”

Shoko clears her throat and continues. “So it begins with you choosing one of our doctors. We highly recommend spending some time on this part. It’s essential that you feel attraction towards your doctor. Once you make a choice, they will reach out to discuss how your insemination experience can be optimized for you. You will receive a biodata on their sexual profile, their preferred methods of arousal, and other relevant details.”

“I’m sorry, but what?” You are at the edge of your seat wondering if you’ve entered an alternate dimension. Surely, this was all being made up? “Arousal, sexual profile- why would I need all these details? I thought sperm donors only gave information like height, weight, medical history and stuff like that.”

“Why wouldn’t they? You’re choosing to be bred by them. They would have to make sure their patient is satisfied with the experience.”

“Bred?” You bleat the word stupidly.

“Yes. We are a natural breeding clinic. We use the method nature has provided to us to ensure a pregnancy.”

The gears in your brain start turning and something finally clicks.

“Are-are you saying…I would be having sex with my doctor?”

“That is correct.” Shoko smiles gently at you, pleased that you have finally caught on.

“The human body doesn’t necessarily enjoy having medical equipment inserted into it. All that cold plastic, and the mechanical methods of insertion. It puts the body in a state of stress. Not good for implantation. So our doctors will inseminate you through the process of intercourse.”

 Her words fall like a fog around you. You can feel your heart racing, a flush creeping into your cheeks. It was…insane. The doctor of your choosing was essentially going to fuck a baby into you. As your mind starts pulling up the images of their doctors, each one impossibly handsome and striking, you feel a familiar throb starting between your legs. Wetting your lips, you try to talk to continue with the information session.

“I see. And…there are benefits to this?”

“Yes. Intercourse allows the body to relax, releasing happy hormones. In this stress-free state, in addition to the knowledge that your doctor is someone you’re attracted to and trust, the chance of an implantation doubles.”

You gape at Shoko, your mind reeling from all the information.

“And…when you say the insemination process will be optimized for my best experience…?”

“The doctor you choose will ask you extensive questions about your preferences. What turns you on, positions, dislikes, toys. It’s to determine if they will satisfy your breeding experience. If they feel they might not be a good fit, they’ll recommend another one of our doctors.”

You swallow, your mouth going dry. “I see. And…what else do I need to know?”

“We will start by collecting your medical history and run some blood work to make sure your body is ready for an insemination process. Women who have a domestic partner will need to get both a waiver and a consent form signed by their partner that they have been informed what happens for the insemination.”

“Of course. Makes sense.”

“You will be assigned an emotional support companion during this process. It will either be myself or Mr. Ijichi Kiyotaka. We are there to help ease your nerves and ensure you enjoy the process. And all patients must think of a unique safeword to use during the insemination process.”

“Safeword?” you parrot back, still processing.

“Yes. At any point during the process, should you feel uncomfortable, your safeword ensures all actions cease and your doctor will give you some space to breathe and reassess the situation.”

All you can do is nod along. Shoko gives you a look of reassurance. “I can guarantee that most women are pleased with the results. And our doctors are quite skilled in what they do. It’s natural to feel a little shy and embarrassed but at the end of the day, we all share a common goal- a healthy baby.”

Despite your initial shock, you feel some of your trepidation fade away. Shoko continues.

“If you are ok with all of this, I can send you the forms to get the process started. Once those are filled, you can take some time to decide on your doctor. Then we’ll set up a call with them.”

“Thank you.” You make a split-second decision. “Please go ahead and send the forms.”

“Excellent. I’ll send them to the email you put in your inquiry. Was there anything else?”

You shake your head no. “I think I have all I need.”

“Great! I look forward to assisting you again.” Shoko ends the call and you immediately go the the website again to look at the doctors, one of which will end up fathering your child. Such a hard decision. How will you ever make the choice?

@thesunxwentblack @kentocalls @actuallysaiyan

@belle-oftheball34 @jesssicapaniagua

@figmentforms

© nanamiscocksleeve original work | no copying, plagiarizing or translating

[grandline-fics]

If you’re down for it, could you do Ace and the prompt for “taking a hit for them”? Idk if you need other specifics but preferably with a afab!reader 👀

DESCRIPTION: Prompt: Taking the hit for them

WARNINGS: angst, description of injury, comfort

CHARACTERS: Ace

WORDS: 1,303

A/N: Thank you for the request! I wasn't expecting for this to be as long as it was but I hope you're happy with the result for this one.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

————————

“You need to stop being so overconfident you know that?” You lectured, frowning heavily down at Ace as he lay on the railing of the Moby Dick for his afternoon nap. At the sound of your voice he tilted the rim of his hat up to blink at you sleepily and confusion. Already he’d forgotten and you rolled your eyes, staring down at him with arms folded tightly and and scowl deepening. If there was a competition for the most laid back person, you would have no doubt Ace would have a gold medal. You were almost jealous. Strictly speaking you admired his personality a majority of the time, but then moments like this came up and that admiration swiftly turned into worry and a lecture. You just needed him to think a little before charging headfirst into things. “That fight back there? They had you surrounded when I arrived. You could have been hurt!”

Ace lolled his head to the side, lazily looking in the direction of the town you’d both just returned from. It took a moment for his mind to drift back to the ‘incident’ that you were getting so stressed over. A long yawn rose through his chest and idly he scratched his chest. Vaguely he recalled a few nobodies trying to start something with him in the hopes of getting their own bounties increased. Honestly that was the only thing that slightly resembled a fight that he could remember being apart of. But still it was hardly anything and he threw you a grin, amusement glinting in his dark eyes. “Hurt by them? If I did, I’d happily give them my bounty myself. I’m fine, you’re fine. What’s got you so tight?”

“You, Ace!” You shouted firmly, your frustration drawing the attention of others on board, their own relaxation being disturbed by the beginning of the lover’s tiff. “Is it really so hard to just take a couple seconds and assess the situation for once? Just because someone looks weak doesn’t mean that’s the case. I mean look at your brother!” At that remark Ace’s need for a nap dissipated and he sat up to glower at you. Just because you were annoyed at him for some needless reason didn't mean you had to drag Luffy into it.

“What about him?” Ace asked evenly, his voice colder than normal. “He’s proved his strength time and time again on these seas.”

“Exactly! He’s taken down big names and part of that is because his appearance makes those he fights underestimate him.” You let out a sigh and rubbed your neck, feeling a headache coming on. “I just don’t want to see you hurt over something that could have been avoided.”

“Sweetheart I’m literally made of fire. No one can hurt me even if they tried.” Ace smirked at you, now that he knew you weren’t insulting his little brother his demeanour had returned and he flopped back down onto the deck. “I love that you worry but please don’t.” Seeing the discussion was hopeless you shook your head and left muttering under your breath. 

It was a week later before it all came to a head. Word came that Whitebeard’s territory was under threat from attack by pirates on the island. Obviously Ace insisted he could handle the threat on his own and you lightly smacked the back of his head. You rolled your eyes and remained quiet, breathing a silent sigh of relief when Pops insisted that a small group go to handle it instead of just allowing Ace to go. Ace accepted the order without hesitation. While you were glad Ace saw sense in that respect you just wished he would listen to you as readily. It was an even greater relief that Marco was also joining the group, at least he would be level-headed.

Your group landed on the island and almost immediately were drawn into a fight. For the most part it was barely worth a warmup, the pirates were in over their heads against you and the other Whitebeards, a clear show in difference in your power against theirs. However in the middle of the fight you noticed two of your enemies disappear from the thick of the fight. If they were drawing back they had a reason for it. Something didn’t feel right, and the fact that the others you were fighting didn’t seem bothered by their allies disappearance only reenforced your suspicions. Then you heard the sound of their fast approach and saw them draw their guns, aiming them at Ace. 

They were already aware that he was a Devil Fruit user from reputation and the beginning of the fight but they stared at your boyfriend with glee and sickening satisfaction. You felt your blood run cold at the realisation that they were fully confident their weapon would harm him so you ran. Quickly you made it to Ace in time just as the sound of the trigger being pulled rang out. Ace turned sharply as you hit the ground, watching as blood slowly darkened and spread against the fabric of your shirt. Immediately the group launched into a vicious assault, no longer going easy on their attackers while Ace gathered you into his arms and yelled for Marco. When Ace tried to reach for your stomach to put pressure on your wound at the same time your blearily made out the soft blue glow of Marco’s flame approaching you found the strength to grab Ace’s hand to stop him from coming into contact with your injury. “N-n-no….sea…seastone!” 

You slipped in and out of consciousness, blurred shapes and muffled voices that you could partially make out as Ace and the others working together to get you stabilised enough to get you back to the ship. You finally tumbled into darkness when you were set on the operating bed. Ace paced outside the infirmary with anxious fury. He wanted to burn the bastards that hurt you but they were already dealt with, he wanted someone to hurt him since this was his fault. Not only had he let the one responsible flee but he’d also heard them pull a gun on their return and made no move to avoid them. You, however had known, you’d considered the possibility that their actions weren’t just bravado or a bluff. Now you were hurt and it could have been avoided had he just done what you’d always asked him to do; consider everything, stop underestimating the enemy.

“Sweetheart, you can tell me ‘I told you so’ everyday.” Ace whispered from your bedside when you were out of surgery, his hand holding yours tightly. He didn’t know how long he’d been sitting with you, but through it all he kept talking. “I swear it anything you want, you got it. Hell, I’ll even give you my hat. You just need to get better.”

“Ace?” Your groggy voice broke him from his constant rambling and looked to you with relief and adoration. You smiled tiredly when his free hand stroked your face, always finding comfort in his touch. You could see the guilt in his eyes and tension in his shoulders. You didn’t need to tell him you told him so, he’d be remembering this day for the rest of his life. “I don’t want your hat. I want my own and a kiss. I want a kiss.” 

Ace couldn’t help but let out a small huff of laughter and lightly pepper your face with gentle, loving kisses until he found your lips and kissed you properly, deeply. What had happened had shaken him completely but for you he’d be strong, he’d be better than he had been and more certainly of all, he’d take things more seriously. For you. Always for you. 

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @stuckinthewrongworld

[ahsokaismyqueen]

Idiotic Decisions Pairing - Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Summary - Working on a project with douchebag Steve Harrington was not something you were looking forward to doing. However, you're surprised to find that maybe he's just a little less of a jerk than you thought. Word Count - 2.2k Warnings - Language and season 1 Steve, but that's it! Steve Harrington x HendersonSister!Reader Masterlist

Of all the things that you thought you might have to do in high school, partnering with Steve Harrington on a project was the one you probably wanted to do the least. Even less so did you want him to know where you lived and be in your house, but one, you had to be there when your brother got home, and two, you wanted the home field advantage. 

“I still don’t see why you don’t just blow him off. You can come over and help me work on my new campaign. I had this great idea -”

You rolled your eyes. “Eddie, I’m not blowing off this project. It’s like twenty-five percent of my grade, and if I leave it all to Harrington I’m sure to fail.” 

Eddie snorted over the phone. “Don’t you have like a 98 in that class?” 

A sigh left your lips. “Yes, and I’d prefer to keep it that way. I need all the help I can get for scholarships. We’re gonna run like hell outta here remember? I can’t do that without some help.” After a moment, a thought struck you though. “Wait, don’t you have your own project to do? For Ms. O’Donnell?” 

“What’s that? Oh, sorry, my Uncle’s calling me to do some stuff around the trailer. I’m going to have to let you go.” He rattled off. 

But you knew he was lying. “I know damn well Wayne’s at work, Eddie.” 

“Bye!” Then there was nothing on the other end but a dial tone. 

Glancing at the clock in the kitchen, you let out a groan, knowing that Steve would be here any minute, and started cleaning off the table so you two would have some space to work. By 5, the time Steve had agreed to be there, everything was clean and your notes were laying out on the table for the two of you to use since you were sure he didn’t have any. 

Then it was 5:30, and he still wasn’t there. 

6:00

7:00 

7:30 and there was still no sign of Steve Harrington. 

By that point, you had grabbed a beer from where you had hidden them in the back of the fridge, and had taken up a spot on the couch with your new book, The Gunslinger. You almost didn’t answer when the knock sounded at your door, but you were curious as to what his excuse might be. 

Steve Harrington stood on your doorstep with what you were sure was supposed to be a charming grin. “Hey, Henderson.” When you stared at him without saying a word, the grin started to fade, and he fidgeted around. “You gonna let me in or?” 

You brought your beer to your lips and took a sip, continuing to stare him down for a moment, and then you took a step back, shutting the door in his face. Turns out you didn’t care what his excuse was. You sat back down on the couch and opened your book once again. 

Steve started trying to talk to you through the door. “Come on, Henderson, basketball practice ran late, and then I had to call Nancy-” 

You let out a snort and flipped the page. 

“Just let me in. I promise I’ll do whatever you say, all the grunt work, hell, I’ll even write, ‘I will not be late.’ Like a hundred times if that’ll make you feel better.” He pleaded. 

Hmmm . . . That would be amusing. 

“Henderson, seriously, what’s it going to take? I can’t fail this class-”

“What are you doing here?” 

You leapt out of your seat and ran to the door, opening it with a big grin. “How did it go?” You asked Dustin. 

Your little brother mirrored your grin. “It was awesome! We didn’t get finished though.” 

You nodded, expecting that. “Campaigns take forever sometimes, but it’s worth it in the end.” 

“Will was trying to attack the demogorgon, and when he rolled the dice, it flew off the table, then it took forever to find it.” 

“Was it a thirteen?” You asked. 

Dustin shook his head. “It was a seven, but Mike didn’t see it, so it didn’t count.” 

Letting out a laugh, you lifted Dustin’s hat to ruffle his hair. “Sneaky. I like it.” 

“Are you two speaking English?” 

You had forgotten Steve was there until he spoke. You shot him a scowl, but didn’t respond to him. “Come on, as awesome as that sounds, you’ve got to get to bed.” You told your little brother, wrapping your arm around his shoulder and bringing him inside. You tried to shut the door behind you, but Steve snuck in before you could. 

“What is he doing here anyway?” Dustin asked again, glancing back at Steve as you tugged him to his room. 

“Being inconsiderate and disrespectful of my time. Which is what I should have expected.” You replied without looking at Steve who was following behind the two of you. “Brush your teeth, lights out in ten.” You told him. 

Dustin groaned. “Fine.” 

“Are you having to babysit your brother tonight or something?” Steve asked. 

You didn’t want to respond, but you got the feeling that he was going to keep pestering you until you did. “No. My mom’s just asleep already.” 

Steve glanced down at his wrist, and then at you. “At 8:00?” 

Something about his tone made you snap. “Not that it’s any of your damn business, but her medication makes it hard for her to stay awake.” 

Steve seemed to recognize the defensiveness in your tone, holding up his hands in front of himself. “Sorry, I’m not used to a quiet house by 8:00. My dad’s usually three beers in, yelling at my mom about how shitty and stupid I am at that point.” 

You paused for a moment, then narrowed your eyes at him. “I’m not going to feel sorry for you when you show up three hours late to work on a project that’s like a fourth of our grade.” You shoved past him, bumping into his shoulder as you did. 

He still followed you. “I’m not trying to make you feel sorry for me - shit, Henderson- ” you froze as Steve’s stupidly large hand wrapped around your wrist. “I’m really sorry, okay? You’re right, I wasn’t respecting you like I should’ve been. It was shitty of me to show up so late.” 

It surprised you. His apology sounded sincere. You turned around to face him, and Steve let go of you. “Well . . . I’m glad you’re self aware enough to know that was shitty.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “Other girls may let you treat them like that, but I’m not Harrington. I’m not going to do all the work because you . . . Flutter your eyelashes at me or something.” 

Steve grinned, raising an eyebrow at you. “Flutter my eyelashes?” 

You felt heat rush to your face, but tried to brush it off. “I’m serious.” 

“Right. Right. Sorry.” He said. “No fluttering of eyelashes, got it.” 

Taking a deep breath, you decided to lay down the rules. “I know we don’t get along, but for the sake of this project we need to work together. Which means I won’t call out all the ways you’re a douchebag, and you’ve got to give me at least a little respect.” 

Steve stared at you, and you couldn’t help but move restlessly underneath his gaze. There was something about his eyes that was just . . . Intense. “That sounds fair.” He said, leaning against the doorframe. “Do you still want to work tonight, or do you want me to leave?” 

Honestly, you were kind of surprised he was asking. It was almost . . . Considerate. “I - uh, I guess we can go ahead and work tonight. It’s not like I’d be going to bed any time soon anyway.” 

His smile was back now as he spoke. “All right boss, lead the way.” 

You rolled your eyes, but there was a small smile on your face as you led him to the kitchen. 

————————

“Can I be honest with you Harrington?” 

Papers were scattered around the table in every direction, no longer a neat stack like how you guys had started, but you found yourself not minding. Steve was bent over a sheet of construction paper, drawing lines with a ruler, biting his bottom lip in concentration as he tried to get the line perfect. At your words though, he looked up at you, raising his eyebrows. “You mean that’s not what you’ve been doing the entire time?” 

You rolled your eyes. “I didn’t expect you to actually try. I’ve seen how you are in class.” For years you had watched Steve show up late, eat snacks, and flirt with girls instead of paying attention. You hadn’t expected it to be any different this time. 

He bent back over the paper again, starting a new line. “Yeah, well, maybe I just wanted to prove to you I’m not the idiot you think I am.” 

It wasn’t often that you regretted words that you said, but that might have been one of the times. You thought back to what he said earlier about his dad. How many people did Steve Harrington have in his life that thought he was stupid? It made you uncomfortable that you were now on that list. “Maybe, ‘makes idiotic choices’ is what I should have said instead. You know, like, being friends with Tommy and Carol.” 

Steve didn’t say anything for a moment, and you thought you might’ve hit a nerve. “Aren’t you the one who’s friends with the drug dealer? How long before you think Munson’s locked up?” 

Yep. You had hit a nerve, and now he had to. “Yeah, well at least Eddie’s not fucking miserable like those two.” You said, crossing your arms over your chest. “He cares about people. He took me in when I had no one because everyone thought I was weird for reading fantasy books and not talking to anyone. That sound like something Tommy and Carol would do?” 

Steve slammed down the pencil and ruler. “People don’t think you’re weird because you read. People think you’re a bitch who goes around sleeping with people all the time because someone caught you coming out of a room at a party right before Jason Carver.” 

“Jason Carver cornered me in that room while I was waiting on Eddie, tried to get me to make out with him, got pissed when I wouldn’t, then went outside and spread the rumor that I was a whore.” You hissed. You didn’t know why the words left your lips. The only person who knew about that night was Eddie, and now for some reason Steve Harrington. Oh well. It wasn’t as if you could take them back. “And everyone believed him without a second thought, didn’t they?” You said, leaning back in your chair. “Including you.” 

Steve sat in stunned silence, his eyes never leaving your face. You thought you might have broken him when he finally spoke. “Why didn’t you say anything?” 

You shrugged. “He didn’t actually do anything. He scared me for a second by grabbing my arm then I kicked him in the balls so hard he passed out. I guess wounding his ego and dick at the same time must have been too much.” 

“You should’ve kicked him harder.” 

“Probably.” 

Silence filled the room again, neither one of you quite knowing what to say after your confession. You didn’t regret saying it. It was almost a relief to know that someone else knew you weren’t what everyone thought, even if it was Steve Harrington. He was still looking at you, his eyes tracing over your face as if seeing you in a new light. Then he glanced down at the paper in front of you and smirked. “That’s the shittiest flower I’ve ever seen.” 

“What?” You glanced down at your own paper, a frown appearing on your face. Okay, so maybe your circles were a little lopsided, and your stems kinda thick, but it wasn’t that bad. “No it isn’t!” 

“Oh, it is. I’m just glad to find something you can’t do.” 

You let out a laugh that turned into a snort. Your eyes widened, and you covered your mouth as heat rushed to your face. 

Steve’s smile grew in delight. “What the hell was that? Do you have pigs in here somewhere?”

“You’re never to repeat that you heard that, do you hear me Harrington?” You threatened. 

“Will it make up for me making the idiotic decision to believe those rumors about you?” He asked. 

Your heart did a funny thing then. Almost gave a jump, and for some stupid reason you felt your eyes get a little watery. “It’s a start.” 

————————

The next morning at school, you met Eddie by your locker. “So how was it?” He asked as soon as you saw him. 

How could you possibly answer him? “It was . . . Not as bad as it could have been I guess?” You said, starting to unlock your locker. “How about you? I hope Wayne didn’t keep you up so late you didn’t get finished with O’Donnell’s project.” You said, calling him out on his bullshit. 

Eddie grinned sheepishly at you. “Yeah well - What the hell is all that?” 

As soon as you opened your locker, at least ten sheets of folded up paper had fallen out. You bent to pick one up and read what it said. It turned out they all said the same thing. 

I will not be late. 

You looked up and spotted him a little ways down the hallway, waiting by Nancy Wheeler’s locker. When he saw you watching him, he gave you a salute. 

You smiled.

[tbaluver]

Hello! I’ve recently gotten into love and deepspace. I love your writing and I was hoping to request some Sylus fluff or a headcannon of all the boys! Whichever you prefer. I’d love to see them comforting or caring for a chronically ill reader. I got diagnosed with POTS recently and doing even basic task has become a struggle. If that’s something you’d like to write, I think it’d be really cute. Thank you!!

Taking Care Of Their Chronically Ill S/O- The Love And DeepSpace Men

parings in order: Xavier x Reader, Zayne x Reader, Rafayel x Reader, Sylus x Reader genre: fluff / comfort a/n: hihi punny ! i hope you're enjoying the game !! and i'm really sorry to hear you're going through this and it's remember to know you're not alone in this. i hope you're able to get the support and care you need to make things easier. if you ever need someone to talk to or get your mind off anything, i'm here for you! ദ്ദി(ᵔᗜᵔ) i hope you this was alright and i hope you enjoy this and if i have the time ill try to write a sylus fluff !! ٩(^ᗜ^ )و ´-

⋆｡‧˚ʚ♡ɞ˚‧｡⋆

Xavier:

You would have to tell him what exactly you're going through to know what is going on. He'll research and look up everything on what you're going through until he's sure he knows what he has to do. He'll do his best to learn the necessary terminologies for whatever you're going through.

Obviously he would want to help. He'll reassure you that he is fine with helping you even if it were the smallest tasks like grabbing something for you or helping you write down something. He would never find anything you asked for to be a burden as long as it helps you take the weight off your shoulders.

He'll pick up anything on the floor and ensure that the house is generally safer for you. He would also try to find yummy foods that you can eat in your condition. He would also try them out with you so you don't feel alone.

I think he would also be good at making you feel validated and understood on the days when any pressure seems to build up.

He would try to stay up with you if you had a rough and sleepless night and make sure you can relax as much as possible first. He'll read you anything or watch movies with you or do whatever you want to get your mind off any discomfort.

Zayne:

He's always reading up on your symptoms and possible treatments for you. He would also have your routines memorized and know when to take your meds or ointments. If he wasn't able to stay home with you, he would text or call on his break to make sure you're okay and if you've taken what you need.

He never makes you feel like it's your fault or your a burden whenever you apologize to do something for you. He is more than happy to help and assures you there is nothing to apologize for. He is happy to be there and with you in any way he can be.

He'll also have a mini notebook or he'll have his notes app that tracks everything that happened to you. Things like foods you can't eat or updates from your checkups. Anything he can record just in case he needs to bring it up to the doctor.

Anything that's on your mind, he'll listen quietly to you rants and he'll talk you out of a bad state of mind.

He's familiar with medication due to his patients and his studies. If it's something he'll be unfamiliar with then he'll look up the side effects and makes sure that you at least have something in your stomach before you take it. It's important for him that you tell him what you're feeling. If you find the aftertaste of your medication unpleasant, he'll offer you a sweet treat after, as long as it's something that won't negatively impact your health.

Rafayel:

You'll have to explain what you're going through and as soon as he understands what you're going through, he will make it his priority to cheer you up and take care of you as much as he can.

He will always try to be there for you on your doctors appointments or any major procedures. You don't even need to ask him, he'll already be on his way there. He'll be there for you for support. He would also want to make sure you're being properly cared for.

When you're resting at home, he'll cling to you. He'll happily tell you any stories or talk about anything to you when you lack the energy to talk.

If you're slower than usual, he'll approach you directly to keep you company. If you stay in bed longer when you wake up, he'll ask if you need anything but he'll always bring you food in bed so you have energy. He'll try his best to help you. He'll bring you your favorite sweets, water, blankets, anything you want or need to get through these difficult times.

He'll always remind you how attractive you are, even if you don't feel it. Especially on days where you'll have post or pre-flare up or just a bad day in general where you don't feel like you don't look good. He'll always remind you how beautiful and how loved you are.

If you ever need space, he'll sit by the opposite wall so he's not far from you if you needed anything. If you need him to distract you, he'll chat about anything to you. If you need help with new exercises, he'll practice them with you or show you videos of what he saw online and try them with you.

Sylus:

He'll stand by you through every challenge. Whatever you're facing, he'll be there to support you.

He remains very understanding about what you're going though. He'll never make you feel guilty for being too painful or uncomfortable to do an activity or an outing with him. He'll put those aside and try his best to comfort you. Whatever is troubling you, he'll be there to listen and support you, always ready to care for you.

He is extremely attentive to signals of pain or any discomfort that you may make. He can use his evol to carry you but he's always willing to just carry you himself whenever you're feeling fatigue more than usual. He'll pick you up and bring you to any room you would like to be at. No matter where you would like to stay, he'll make the room comfortable for you. If you want to stay in bed, he'll smooth out the sheets and pat the mattress to make sure there are no crumbs in it and the pillows would be fluffed to your liking.

He'll also cook or bring your favorite meals to you so you can eat comfortably. He'll even run the perfect temperature when you want a bath or a shower and he'll add any herbs or salts to soothe any aches in your body. If your comfortable with it, he'll shower you himself. He doesn't want you too use too much energy and wants you to relax as much as you can.

Will hire the best doctors for you and he'll call the doctors regularly to monitor the progress of your treatments because your health is very important to him. He will sit by your side through every trip to the doctor. He'll be by your side on the bathroom floor or any bad nights.

If there is a time that he cannot be by your side, he'll either have one of the twins or both to watch over you. He'll literally give them specific and direct instructions on what you will need. As long as you feel the weight off your shoulders. Just in case, he'll have Mephisto to watch over you and if anything were to go wrong he'll be home as soon as he can.

During sleepless nights, he'll be right by your side, holding your hand as you both lie in bed. He'll gently kiss your forehead, temple, and hand, offering comfort and reassurance that he's always here for you.

[futureplayboibunnie]

Heartless Pt. 4

Mafia Boss! Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

You and Miguel are married to each other…and it wasn’t because of love.

thank you for all the love so far! also this is my personal touch for this fic, but while i was writing it i was listening to the entire Honeymoon album by lana del rey (especially the instrumentals) i’d recommend listenting to it. it fits this vibe so perfectly, literally trying to encapsulate that feeling with this series.

“I'm in the middle of something.” You piped up nonchalantly, like being half naked and dripping with water in front of men was a completely normal occurrence. “Well, now that you're here, it would be nice if you were helpful by getting my bags.” You said with a wry, and slightly pissed-off smile. He just observed you with darkened eyes and a grinding jaw, if he pressed harder you would practically hear the bones crunch together. The look you gave him was an urging one. “So what will it be? Gaping at me blankly or being mildly helpful?” Your tone was aggravating, grating the inside of his head- your glib comments were making him realize that you were actually capable of disrespecting him.

Miguel didn't know what to make of you in his room like this, acting as if it were your own. It wasn't. But you were married now. Technically, what was his was yours. He didn't like it. He sneered, his features merely angry slashes contorting up his face. “I'm not your sniffer dog.” He barked, storming out of the room and slamming the door so hard that it closed and sprung back open. You rolled your eyes at his outburst, but you had to admit, it was a little unnerving to see him lose his temper that quickly. Miguel huffed, grabbed your stupid bag, and slammed the door open like a bull in a china shop. “Here, and get out of the room. It's mine.”

“What? I was in here first.” You protested in vain, you were the one who was dragged away on a honeymoon, you were the one who was being ordered around like a stuck-up child. The least he could do was let you sleep wherever you wanted to sleep.

“Well, I own the fucking building.” Miguel bit back deadpan, his voice flat and so sadistically arrogant, like money was all that made him. It was an insult to the whole idea of humanity to rely on something as belittling as money.

Miguel's head was storming, dissecting every single premonition about you and how you could so easily flip on him, he would tolerate your disrespect for now, you hadn't properly settled in yet, but if you made it a habit, he'd make you regret it. It should be funny, Miguel was so proper and particular about his women. There were things he liked and didn't like on women. He hated flats. He only liked certain colors. He hated jeans. He liked skirts and dresses for...easy access. He liked his women easy, and you were definitely not easy. You were making it difficult for him on purpose now. But for some reason, defiance suited you more than nonchalant complacency. It was more entertaining than the graceful, polite facade you shirked up.

“Can I put my clothes on now?” You objected, snapping him out of his pondering, looking like an idiot just glaring at you like this.

Part of him wanted to say ‘Well. No. I'd prefer you with nothing on actually.' His steely resolve almost broke at the realization, but he shook his head and pushed it down. Yes, you were attractive but your personality was a mystery for him, he was battling his own personal mysteries, and he didn't have time to psychoanalyze anyone elses.

-

You slept...okay. Miguel didn't disturb you or actually force you out of his room which was odd. He probably had enough of this senseless bickering, you'd probably just go back to ignoring each other, maybe at least try to independently enjoy this stupid 'honeymoon.’

The sun woke you up sweetly, and the soft gentle breeze billowed through the open curtains, offering the hum of salt air whispering through the room. You wanted to avoid Miguel as long as you could, so you decided to just go in the garden, sunbathe, read a book, do something meaningless to just forget about the fact you're married to one of the most dangerous men you've ever met.

You practically jumped out of bed, went to the bathroom, splashed your face with water, brushed your hair, and put it up in a claw clip with the speed of an Olympic runner. But what was all the hurrying for when you were completely stumped on what to wear? You tossed out your clothes and put them all away, you ultimately decided to wear a bikini and on top a cute mid-thigh sundress, you weren't going anywhere too fancy, the back garden wasn't exactly Paris fashion week. When you glanced outside the terrace, you were happy to see that the garden was adorned with carefully cut shrubs, willowing trees, orchids, and chrysanthemums. Considering Miguel rarely leaves for leisure, it was a surprise that is was being kept up - it must have meant a lot to him then. You grabbed your things and opened the door quietly, wanting to sneak out as soundlessly as possible in order not to attract attention from Miguel, or worse, be the reason to wake him up.

You padded away barefoot, feeling the warmth of the sun outside surround you as it seeped through every glass window.

Even though Miguel told you to get used to his lifestyle, you still hadn't settled in, something just didn't sit quite right with you. You were fortunate enough to come from a wealthy family but the way Miguel wasn't bothered by the sheer amount of blood money he acquired is...distasteful. Thinking of which, you peeked your head around the corner in order to see if Miguel was awake but instead you found something else. He wasn't in bed at all. He was asleep, his hands were crossed on the kitchen counter and his head was flat on his upper arm, fast asleep with his laptop open in front of him Jesus. He still hadn't changed. What was it with men not wanting to take care of themselves?

You shifted towards him, inching closer and closer to his sleeping form. Wow. He almost looked peaceful, not full of that mindless aggression he was known for. His copper hair was tousled and disheveled, his golden skin was creased but reflective against the light, and his breathing was slow and heavy- it was odd seeing him this relaxed when he wasn't even in a relaxing position in the first place. You raised an eyebrow at his disposition. Maybe Miguel wanted to outsmart and outwit sleep, he obviously had to succumb to its charms. You worked your way around the kitchen island, unable to stop looking at him like this, you grabbed an apple from the fruit bowl and just stood and stared at him like a creep. You really should leave before he wakes up, but you didn't want him sending his capos combing the entire complex for you, so you just left him a note.

In the garden.

-

Miguel heard a gunshot.

It reverberated in his ears.

More gunshots. Thousands of rounds smoking away.

His eyes widened, and the sleep left his bones. His head spun around, shifting erratically, and he almost fell off the fucking chair. A tight anxiety squeezed the color out of his face, the heavy breaths wouldn't bring any solance to any of the fragments falling at his palms. His chest filled with panic, and the first thing that came into his head to find was you. He eyed your note and rushed down as fast as he could. He needed to get you out of here.

But then all he heard was silence when he stepped out onto the patio. A muffling silence. Then the sharp hum of wildlife, the birds chirping, the distant sounds of the beach, the flattening waves. The crickets trilled and the leaves rustled, the nostalgia of the oddly familiar sounds crept up on him like a disillusioning shadow. An itch he couldn't scratch. A never-ending nightmare he couldn't end. A man with everything he could ever want, but no clear consciousness, no clear mind. He was blind and tortured.

You were lying on a sunbed, and Miguel only caught onto your back and a little bit of your side profile. His eyes were dead set on you, contemplating you...and there you are, emerging in his eyeline. Those flashes of skin become a painting, a jigsaw puzzle coming together. He was slow in his movements, finally viewing you as you were. You were lying there, glowing in a small bikini, taking in the sun like a nymph. Your body was so….

Miguel frowned.

The apple you bit into was stuck to your teeth, you stopped everything you were doing, pausing for your eyes to follow from Miguel's thighs to his face. This was the moment where he saw you as if you were like a deer in headlights, like a naive girl who tries to hide behind back-talk and retaliation. The wide-eyed look you gave him, pupils glazing over, revealing no thought behind your eyes. But he saw you. He saw you being affected by his presence. He felt himself loom over you. Your eyebrows creased in pensive irritation, Miguel's face was hard and steely in something he couldn't quite define. You finished biting into the apple, chewing and just giving him a nonchalant look. Reverting back like second instinct.

“Did you rush out here to gawk at me again? Or to blame me for your lack of sleep?” You breathed out judgementally, but at that moment, the way your eyes connected sent a strange chill down your spine, even when you were lying out in the sun. Miguel felt it too. The scorching, pulsating beat behind your gaze was a never-ending maze, an attempt to figure out who was going to break first. Neither of you was willing to back down. It was sizzling…as wellias unsettling.

Miguel didn't know how to answer your question. He couldn't exactly tell you that his nightmares of the most traumatic thing that's ever happened to him tricked his head into believing he was hearing the remnants of it in real time. Part of him wanted to say yes to both. His sleep schedule was a nightmare in itself and the woman who is the bane of his existence has to be looking so...delicious when he was absolutely not in the mood. He wanted you with nothing on, maybe force you to look at him the exact same way he just found you...with his hand between your thighs.

Miguel shook the annoying, sleep-induced thought away. He was acting like every other man, their mind wandering to hell when they see any attractive woman- he won't fall for it. He won't. But you weren’t any other woman were you?

Miguel watched you bite into the apple and instinctively, he just grabbed it from your mouth, almost pulling at it. He watched your face flit into a multitude of different emotions at what he did. You opened your mouth to say something but you just huffed instead, glaring a hole into his face. Miguel took a bite out of it and tilted his head to contemplate you. He knew he shocked you.

You were really fuckable.

Extremely fuckable.

It was an objective statement.

But he still won't play into it. Nah. You wouldn’t be able to fix him. He was too damaged for you. He wouldn’t mind the primitive pleasure of fucking you. He just won’t do it. You weren’t as nice as before. You’d grown a smart mouth.

“Hm.” That was all he could say to you. “I want my room back.” His fingers reached out and tilted your chin up a little, he felt you flinch just a millisecond and that expression on your face was unamused, dead set looking up at him. It felt like you were holding your breath. He took another bite out of the apple. "Happy sunbathing carino." He yelled behind him as he walked away.

-

taglist (giggles) : @deputy-videogamer @aisyakirmann @idolautism @residentialcryptid @bunnyrose01 @hqllcheers @minalovesyoubabes @amelialysm @moonvoidpng @ahano @hanberkkk @lavenderslemonade @mynameiswilliamblake @gejo333 @leahnicole1219 @iite-cool @zaunsin @kkchgee @yujyujj @hazelnutbitch @hiraya1802 @leo-lvr @sh4nn @watyousayin @siidmm @ciwywt-com @death-moth-art @ihateuguys @enmuhusben @berry-potchy @s0lm1n @amelialysm @migueloharastruelove @lauraolar14 @tashames @soymiguelsesposa @noblesavagex @miguelsslutprincess @lilipads (sometimes i hate this fkn app it literally doensn’t let me tag other ppl why)

[neil-gaiman]

Hi Neil. I’ve seen you answer about how you don’t like being famous and wish you weren’t, and I understand you. I had some fame, obviously nothing even remotely near your level, but let’s say I was famous among a specific niche of people. Fame wasn’t a goal of mine, just a side effect of what I did. Yes, I had people stopping me in the street to ask for selfies, I was recognized as I was doing daily things, or doing chores, or taking my kids to the dentist, I mean, out of the context of my profession. Then people would take pictures of me (and my family) without me noticing, I was just going about my day, and share in social Media. People trying to guess were I live and people getting mad if I didn’t answer them, or refused “let’s meet”. Things like that that I’m sure are a million times worse in your case.

And you know what? I agree, being famous sucks. I still do what I do, but I simply stopped using and being present in social media. It helped a lot. Yes it had some impact on my job, but Instill can do it, but without so much of the fame side effect.

Have you considered cutting your social media presence? It could help. At least it did forl me. I confess that I enjoy following you in social media myself, but I’d much prefer you to be happier.

Sorry if this sounds pretentious or stupid, it is well meaning. And obviously, Feel free to just ignore me.

No, it's very helpful actually. And I appreciate it enormously.

[minkdelovely]

kinktober — day IX

prompt: biting

ripe

“but i know

you’ve got a taste

so just take a

bite of me”

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Alastor x Fem!Reader ; MDNI 18+

tags/warnings: biting, blood / blood play, dub-con (covering by bases here), flirting but make it cannibal (no actual consumption — that’s a different prompt lol), power dynamics (alastor’s not your boss but also not-not your boss?), heavy petting over clothes, digital stimulation, tentacle play, squirting, descriptions of biting, mentions of eating fruit and its texture 🍑✨

word count: 3.5k

summary: you make an off-handed comment that piques alastor’s interest, and he decides to test a hypothesis that ends with promising results!

author’s note: i don’t have much to say here (because it’s all in the body) but if you’ve got an oral fixation or a thing for biting my only hope is that this fits the bill 🙏🏻 oh and uh… i really hope y’all still like fruit after this lol quote is from the offering by sleep token.

coven: @fraugwinska @hazelfoureyes @macabr3-barbi3 @sugoi-writes @synamartia 🕯️♥️

the coven’s kinktober masterlist

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧     ✧     ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Everyone was snickering, but what you said had been innocent enough. And honest!

“What? Is that strange?”

Angel put his hand on your shoulder while the others tried to kill their laughs, looking at you with kind pity. “Babe,” he started, smile trembling as he fought to stay neutral, “down here that’s, like, one step away from bein’ a cannibal.”

Was it, really? 

You couldn’t recall how the conversation ended up here, but you had all been discussing your favorite fruits. When it was your turn to share, all you had said was that you preferred fleshy fruits because they were satisfying to bite. Peaches, especially. 

Though perhaps the laughter had been a blessing in disguise. It prevented you from finishing your thought, the remainder of which you now resigned to keep to yourself. Wide eyes and the blush burning your face brought the group to heel as they noticed your embarrassment, coughing to smother what was left of their mirth.

“It’s not strange at all,” Charlie said reassuringly. “Your answer was just…,” her hands danced in the air as she scrambled for her next word, “unexpected! But now that you mention it, I like grapes because they pop!”

That earned her a few sideward glances and teasing eyebrow wiggles, but she immediately dove into how texture was just as important as taste when it came to food in some cultures. Whether or not she was falling on the sword, you did appreciate her commiseration. It was enough to draw away attention from your admission, and the conversation eventually made its way to other topics. Before you knew it, the bonding session was done and you were all going your separate ways.

You were headed to your room to freshen up when Alastor caught you in front of the elevator. 

“Afternoon, my dear! Do you have a moment? There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.” His static voice was polite enough, but his grin seemed a bit… dubious.

Still, you didn��t really have a reason not to be honest. The two of you had a decent working relationship. Being in charge of inventory, Alastor checked in with you twice a day: nine in the morning and at night. You had already met up with him this morning, giving him a full rundown on what was stocked, what was getting low, and a few things Charlie had wanted to spruce up the common areas with. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary then, at least, despite his displeasure at the knickknacks the Princess had suggested.

Maybe something had happened while you were busy with the group? In the months you had known each other, Alastor had never asked for an impromptu meeting before… But there’s a first time for everything.

“Yes, I have time,” you conceded. “I was gonna touch up a bit, but I’ll just grab my binder and meet you in the conference room?”

The small conference room, A, down the hall of the main floor was where you usually met to go over your reports. It hadn’t been specifically designated for you two, but you met there so regularly everyone knew to leave it be. Being on the wrong side of Alastor’s temper wasn’t worth the trouble when there were other rooms available, if needed. 

“There will be no need for that,” Alastor assured brightly, hooking your arm through his to pivot from the elevator. “It’s something of a personal nature, actually.”

“Personal?” you blurted, immediately flushing at the slip. “Not that I mind, it’s just…”

Alastor smiled down at you, knowing what you meant without finishing your explanation. The relationship you had with him was strictly professional. Sure, you were friendly enough but in the way that co-workers are, but not confidants. For all intents and purposes, Alastor was your boss. If he was having problems in his personal life, he had friends worthy of his station to seek council with. So why you, all of a sudden? What advice could you possibly give to an Overlord who had been here for nearly a century while you were wet behind the ears?

There wasn’t much time to linger on it though, having quickly made it to your destination. Alastor removed himself from you to open the door, sweeping his arm before you with a flourish, directing you inside. The hand he placed on the dip of your back as you moved past him made you jump a little. 

Another first.

But you dismissed it, hoping your reaction didn’t put him off. This wasn’t a business meeting, after all. It was personal. And it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. In fact, it was a bit surprising how much the gesture excited you. The light pressure of his hand spanning across the back of your waist made you acutely aware of just how much larger he was than you. Something you had registered neutrally as pure fact — he towered over most, if not all of you living here — was now making your heart quicken.

Alastor was debonair, to be sure, but you had always kept the lines between you clear in your mind. Well… as much as you could, for your part. It would be a lie to say that your daydreams didn’t wander now and then. But as a rule, you had never entertained a romantic interest in anyone you worked with. Don’t shit where you eat, you remember your father joking on your first morning as part of the workforce. 

It was advice you took to the grave, apparently.

You were about to take your usual seat when Alastor tutted and tapped on the lacquered tabletop with his microphone. When you turned to look up at him, confused, you were met only with his expectant face lilting to the right in silent indication of where he wanted you to sit. 

“I really don’t understand this,” you muttered, apprehensive, but proceeded to sit yourself on the table anyway. You had to stand up on your toes to achieve it, feeling Alastor’s eyes on you the entire time it took you to get up there and settle.

He grabbed the chair next to you and adjusted it slightly before placing it in front of you to sit, causing you to squirm. Alastor was collected as ever, primping himself as if he weren’t practically sitting between your legs. Even with his impressive height, you were looking down at him. Not by much, with how he had raised the chair you were somewhat at eye level, but it was odd all the same. Perhaps even the intention.

Still… you felt anxious. Like waiting for bad news at the doctor’s office. Legs swinging softly over the edge of what might as well be an examination table just to give yourself something to do while you waited for him to speak.

“I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation earlier,” he said, folding his hands in his lap. “For the record, I don’t think that puts you a step away from cannibalism.”

Is that was this was all about? Not that you had any idea of what to expect him to want to talk about, but this topic didn’t bring you any relief. You knew about his proclivities — hell, you were responsible for keeping certain items in stock for him! You shifted a little, feeling more under the scope than ever as he merely stared. The placid smile on his face akin to that of a biding alligator, luring its prey into a false sense of security with inaction.

“I don’t believe you got the chance to speak your peace on the matter,” he continued, voice smooth despite the static overlay. “And I, for one, am curious to hear more. If you’ll indulge me.”

He was right, in the strange way that he always seemed to be. His ability to read people was frightening — a quality you noticed others weren’t nearly as wary of as they should be. Too distracted by his enigmatic reputation and penchant for violence.

The image of a lolling alligator came back, closer to the shore. 

“Well, that really was most of it. I just… enjoy the texture of fruits like that? There’s not much else to say.”

Alastor blinked, one eye then the other, waiting for you to elaborate. But it felt too humiliating to say the rest. 

How you relished the sensation of your teeth piercing the skin, hearing and feeling the pop from serration. Sinking into the soft flesh, juice pooling in your mouth and inevitably down the side of it; dripping from your chin down to the floor. It was one of the few times you allowed yourself to be somewhat messy. Not caring about the juice that dried sticky on your face and hands — a sensory discomfort you couldn’t stand otherwise. It was part of the experience. Something about it tapping into a more primal part of your brain.

There were aspects of this you knew he’d understand, but you had never said these things out loud before. And you could tell that he knew you were holding out. You wouldn’t put it past him to keep you cooped up here for the rest of the day until you relented, and deflated.

Might as well rip off the bandaid…

“I like the way it feels when I bite into them the most.” The words fell out of your mouth, rushed and close together. Feeling much like you were confessing to your parents that you broke the neighbor’s window. 

When he didn’t answer, you began to ramble. The sensations you had just gone over in your head pouring from your mouth in a nervous effort to appease him and get the fuck out of there. You didn’t notice that he had inched closer, or how your legs had unconsciously spread to allow him room to do so. It wasn’t until his hands were on your hips that you snapped out of your babbling, his face the very picture of nonchalant. But his smile…

You were caught.

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it? Don’t you feel better, getting that off your chest?” he mused, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips. “And you’ve never been curious about taking a bite of something else? I’m not so sure.”

You yelped when he pulled you to the edge of the table, your legs on either side of his chest. It was only now that you realized how much the hem of your dress had risen, and you gave yourself a silent prayer of thanks for wearing black stockings today. Exposed as you were, it gave you some comfort that so far only your soul remained bare to him.

“I take my mentoring quite seriously,” he went on, crimson eyes burning holes into your psyche. His eye contact was something you had admired professionally, but withered under now. Heartbeat in your throat as his left hand roamed up to your waist, the right holding fast on your hip. “It seems I’ve overlooked an opportunity in your development. If you’d let me, I’d love to give you a demonstration.”

“Demonstrate what?” The question came out harsh, but he was talking around the subject and you were still trying to figure out how you practically ended up in his lap. Even worse, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from him, despite his forwardness, so you put your frustration in your mouth. “And where is this coming from? If this is your idea of flirting, it’s a little direct.”

You had to keep one hand planted on the table to maintain your balance, but you grabbed at the wrist of his hand that had moved to your leg in a futile attempt to hold him still.

Alastor chuckled, delighted, the hand you held now opting to massage the flesh underneath it as his smile widened. “Ooh, you’ve got a bit of a temper! Enchanting.”

He laughed again when you did your best to jab him in the side with your left knee, his kneading hand unrelenting on your thigh. You could feel the heat in your face beginning to trickle down, an ache blossoming between your legs as he leaned in.

“Flirting? I suppose you could call it that. But as for my being direct, as you put it,” his expression was coquettish as he leaned closer still. The tickle of his breath on your face as he spoke, “I just happen to know that this is a method you prefer. Or haven’t you noticed?”

Flashes of interactions played in your mind. While he had never been rude, you couldn’t deny that when you discussed business he was always concise and clear with his directions. There were never any gaps you had to try and fill or ruminate over what was expected of you. Not only did it allow you to get your job done, but to flourish while doing so. To the point where you were able to even anticipate certain needs before they were asked. Something Alastor had been particularly pleased with, which in turn, made you aim to do it more.

Fuck. He was right.

Alastor must have seen the revelation on your face in the way you felt it crumble, ashamed to have been read so easily. In more ways than one, he had you in the palm of his hand.

“There’s no need for all that,” he cooed, “It’s worked out well for us so far, hasn’t it? Think of this as a trust exercise!”

You wriggled against him and looked away, not wholly convinced. “I still don’t understand what the goal is here… You’re only being direct with your hands, not your words.”

If it wasn’t exactly flirting or seduction, what was it, then? Lessons in cannibalism? A shiver down your spine left you with a strange blend of nausea and intrigue. You did your best to ignore the throb you felt in your groin.

“The goal, my dear, is to find out just how far your fascination with biting goes. And before I offer up my own neck, we need to make sure you know what you’re doing. Hence, the demonstration.”

Alastor placed his palm over your mound, using the heel of his hand to grind against your sensitive nub. Your body jerked, the small scream of shock and pleasure that left you echoing in the room. With your hand still wrapped around his wrist, you could feel the way his bones moved under the skin. The sensation of it dueling with the arousal he was drawing from you in a way that replaced your mind with hot air.

“Wha—mm! What are you doing that for?” you managed to ask, breath heavy and face hot with embarrassment.

“My, what a face you’re making,” Alastor teased, leaning forward to lick a stripe up your cheek with his long tongue. His low chuckle rang in your ears, drowning out your own wanton gasp. “But to answer your question, I need to… ripen the fruit, so to speak.”

His hand over your sex emphasized this with a squeeze and you squealed, thighs clenching around his body in reflex. It only served to press him firmer against you, your grip on his wrist quickly becoming your tether to reality as his fingers stroked you over your stockings and panties. It took longer than you’d have liked for his answer to land, alarm bells going off somewhere in the haze that had become your logic.

“You can’t — ahh! You’re gonna bite there?!” 

Alastor laughed but didn’t stop working his fingers. The gaze he set on you was patronizing, but amused. As if you were a child who had unwittingly said something profane or clever. 

“No, darling, not today. That’s a bit much for the first time.” His voice dropped a couple octaves when he continued, leaning in to speak into your ear, “But I’d be happy to indulge you, should you enjoy our little experiment.”

You whimpered, your hand on him tightening as his lips planted a kiss behind your ear. 

He continued to pepper your neck, pausing now and then to tease you with a lick or graze of teeth. All the while his hand remained hard at work, your hips mindlessly rolling into his touch. The sound of your panting and moans harmonized with Alastor’s static, making the air around you heady and alive. Pressure mounting and threatening to spill over like the coil in your belly.

It was so hard to concentrate, feeling so surrounded by him. Alastor’s mouth had now latched onto your neck where it met your shoulder, sucking a bruise you knew would take at least a week to recover from. You didn’t even realize you had been saying his name with nearly every rock of your hips, chasing down your orgasm as he growled against your skin. His own hips grinding himself into nothing but the seat of the chair as his arm wrapped around your back to hold you close. 

The sting of his nails digging into your ribs didn’t even phase you as he gave your neck its first real bite. You cried out, hips stuttering as his tongue soothed over the raw patch of flesh. It hadn’t been strong enough to break the skin, but the rush of heat you felt prickling your neck and cunt was undeniable.

You wanted more.

 “Alastor, please… I’m so close,” you whined, feeling secure enough now to clasp your hands behind his neck. 

Whether it was what you said or how you clung to him, something triggered him to lose his composure, if momentarily. But you feared you would never forget the popping feeling of your stockings breaking under the force of his claw or the sound of tearing fabric that followed. His thumb swept down into your folds to collect your slick before resuming its task, rubbing harsh circles over your clit. The direct contact was almost overwhelming and you keened, high and desperate. Earning a low rumble of satisfaction from him in return.

Soon there was another sensation, something cool and slippery probing your entrance. It pushed forward just as he bit you again, this time on the shoulder. You felt your skin give in, the slightest puncture of his teeth sending a thrill through you. His saliva stung the minor wound, but the appendage working your core was more than a distraction. The lewd sound of your arousal now competing with your mindless cries.

“This is it, darling. Are you ready?” Alastor’s voice was husky and eager, while his eyes threatened to eat you alive. In a sense, he was, and all you could do to answer him was nod your head. 

He ran his tongue over his teeth before he hid his face in your neck again, placing open-mouthed kisses wherever his lips could touch before he settled back over the bruise. You moaned as he lapped at it, his tongue wide and firm, contrasting the pace of his thumb and what you now assumed to be one of his tentacles inside you. The last thing you truly remembered was his mouth parting over your skin. Everything that followed seemed to merge into one.

Was it your climax that urged him to bite down? Or was it the bite that set it off? It was more than possible that they happened in tandem… Alastor always did have impeccable timing. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as your vision went white, the force of your orgasm with the exquisite pain of the bite nearly sending you into unconsciousness. As you began to return to yourself, it felt as if your body had three heartbeats. One in your chest, one in your neck, and one between your hips. 

You were vaguely aware of feeling wet. Sweat had made your clothes stick to your skin, but you could feel it in your lap as well as on your chest and back. The tentacle had retreated from your core and Alastor’s hand was back on your hip, his other still holding you against him as you heaved to catch your breath. He was breathing harshly through his nose, his teeth still buried in you as his mouth siphoned as much of your blood as it could. Your pulse seemed to match the rhythm of his swallowing throat, the early signs of pain beginning to bubble under your skin as your orgasm and adrenaline waned.

But on the whole, you felt incredible. Euphoric. As if your entire body had let go of some unknown burden, it was a delicious relief you knew you’d be chasing for the rest of your afterlife.

After a few moments, Alastor removed himself, blood coating his chin as he smiled up at you. Eyes glazed with an almost drunken glee. “What’s the verdict?”

You leaned down and licked off some of the blood, an absent thought of whether or not it was all yours coming to mind. Though in the end, that wasn’t really important, was it? Especially not when you pulled back to take in his voracious face, ears pinned to his head as his hands gave you a squeeze.

“How soon can we schedule the next trust exercise?”

Alastor chuckled, low and amused. “How proactive you are. We can talk about it while I get you cleaned up.”

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[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.