#need someone to lean over me and speak to me about their hyperfixations

[foxgloveinspace]

IM REALIZING THAT II IS PROBABLY A NORMAL HIGHT AND III AND VESSEL ARE JUST REALLY TALL.

And I’m realizing that I probably do not even slightly reach Vessel and III’s shoulder.

[just-a-little-cellist]

Hello there! I just came across your page and was wondering if I could get headcanons for Darth Maul and female that includes NSFW? I am trying to find as much Darth Maul content as I can cause I am currently crushing on the guy(and his actor, Ray Park)

(YES my first Maul ask! currently hyperfixating on him so you're in luck! since you didn't specify much I let the inspo flow and ended up doing a sorta first kiss scenario + some general NSFW, if you'd like me to expand on any of this or do anything different then feel free to send me another ask! enjoy :D)

(Darth Maul x fem (AFAB) reader - Maul being a little angsty but mostly fluff in the first half, NSFW labelled)

In the early stages of your relationship, before you become romantically involved, Maul spends a lot of time observing you. Just moving across a room brings the sensation of blazing eyes following your steps, and he makes little effort to hide it either.

It isn't clear whether he watches out of suspicion or curiosity. But you know he sees the shiver go through you every time you lock eyes with his intense stare.

He also doesn't speak much, which doesn't make it easier.

(Not that he'd ever admit it, to you or himself, but he prefers listening to you talk. He finds himself lost in the stories you tell and the emotion in your voice.)

He may resist your efforts to get close to him, even staying resistant to you once your relationship has been established, but he does want and need to experience genuine care. He's just not sure how to accept it.

The first time you gather your nerves and reach out to touch him, before any romantic advances had been made, he pulls away like he's been burned.

Almost all of the touch he's received before has been violent and painful. This is foreign, and he doesn't know what to do.

His expression is unreadable, and he storms away soon after, leaving you wondering if you'd overstepped and if this would finally be what tips his patience.

You don't have to wonder long though.

He enters the room that you're stood in silently enough that you only notice him when you turn around.

Maul stares down at you, his body far closer to you than you expected, and you fumble with your words when he doesn't say anything.

"HI! Uh... I'm really sorry if I overstepped earlier. It wasn't appropriate of me and I promise I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable I just-"

You trail off when the Zabrak slowly takes your hand.

He's... unusually careful, for someone so frequently fuelled by anger. He's gentle, and unsure, like he thinks you'll bolt at any moment.

His eyes stay locked with yours as he slowly lifts your hand up and, seeing no sign of fear or reluctance, places your palm against his face.

The contact is barely there, Maul clearly not certain what move to make from here. It's sweet, you think, that such an imposing figure would be so timid in receiving affection.

You smile softly, pleasantly surprised as your apprehension dissolves, and gently brush your thumb over his cheekbone. His eyes close, just for a moment, and he leans into the touch ever so slightly.

"Forgive me for earlier," he murmurs. "This is... new."

"That's ok, I can be patient."

He stares at you for a moment longer, trying to see if there is any motive beyond your sweet smile, but finds nothing but fondness.

"You have entranced me, starlight."

His eyes flicker down to your lips with longing in his eyes and, not one to miss an opportunity, you lean forward and kiss him softly.

Maul is stiff at first but, just as you're about to pull away, he melts into it. His hands slide up to your waist as your arms move up around his neck, and he hums approvingly at the feeling.

He only pulls back once he feels you smile against him.

Clearly feeling defensive and a little vulnerable, he looks at you questioningly.

"Sorry, it's nothing! I just-" You look at him and gather your thoughts. "I'm just glad you don't actually hate me."

"You thought I hated you?"

"I wasn't sure... you don't exactly make it easy to tell you know!"

He chuckles when you playfully swat at his arm.

"I could never hate you, starlight."

~ NSFW below <3 ~

Maul is not used to being vulnerable, in any scenario, so in the beginning he reverts to what he is used to: control.

He is exclusively dominant the first few times you have sex because that's what he thinks he's supposed to be.

He can focus on the way your lips part, the sounds you make, the feeling of your nails digging into his shoulders as you cling onto him.

It's your vulnerability, not his. It will take him time to feel comfortable enough for you to take the reins.

Soon into your relationship, you mumble a quiet plea and urge him to sit against the headboard. You straddle his lap and kiss him softly, but with so much passion that he stops breathing, and slowly sink down onto his cock.

This time it's him clinging onto you, and he swears nothing has ever felt better.

Maul is certainly a switch.

He has days where he feels such a primal need to possess you, to claim you.

It's days like this you find yourself on your knees, face pressed into the mattress while he fucks you from behind. His claws dig into your hips, making sure to leave marks, and his teeth are sunk into the soft skin of your neck.

(Invest in some high collars.)

However, when Maul feels the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, he needs you to make the decisions.

He's resistant at first, not believing he deserves it, but he needs you to praise him. He has no preference for whether you're rough or gentle, but he needs to know he's being good for you.

He's also surprisingly obedient. To him, giving himself over is a show of trust, and maker knows you've already fought hard enough to gain his.

The fastest way for Maul to enter subspace, he has found, is with his head between your legs.

Just say the word and his tongue is pressed to your clit, so eager to draw pretty moans from you.

He can get lost in his task so easily, entranced by the sound and taste of you, not even realising that he's overstimulating you until your hands tug at his horns.

Gazing up at you with dilated pupils, already floating in his headspace and seeming almost distressed that you'd pull him away, it's too easy to indulge him and let him keep going.

At the end of a session with him, you always insist on aftercare. Once again, it's something he struggles to acknowledge his need for, but the first time you clean him up with so much care, murmuring how well he did, and guide him to curl up beside you, he couldn't imagine ever turning it down.

He's also getting more used to giving you aftercare when he's been domming. It was a struggle to know what you needed from him at first, but he's better at being careful when he cleans up any scratches you might have, at praising you, and at accepting the way you wrap your arms around his waist as soon as he lays down beside you.

Like many things with Maul, it takes patience before you can see the true him, but it's worth the effort.

And when he lays in bed with you tucked into his side, smiling contentedly, he's never felt so lucky.

[bisexualiteaa]

would it be alright if you were to write a fluff(maybe smut?) hancock x reader who has adhd who's just overwhelmed with quests and doesn't know which one to do first? Lol please and thank you:)

Of the People, For the People

John Hancock x ADHD!GN Reader (FLUFF!!)

CW: reader struggles with their ADHD, John thinks it’s cute, cursing, guilt, restlessness, slight OOC Hancock, slight suggestive themes towards the end, fluff, possible grammatical/spelling errors, briefly proof read

AN: as someone with ADHD this ask actually really hit home. It was half the reason why I could never start games like Fallout and Skyrim in the first place was because there are so many things you can do, the idea alone was overwhelming to me because I knew it’s start and never finish just about everything pushed my way. Then the TV series came o it and all that changed upon the simple acquirement of a hyperfixation on the ghoul and thus my love for fallout was born! 😂 I am still rather new to Fallout games, lore and such so please be gentle if I have gotten anything wrong, I’m still doing my best at learning everything I can to write these well and properly! But I hope I did your ask some justice with this Anon! Hope you all enjoy some more love for our Mayor Hancock. 🥰

Tag-list: @expirednukacola

“Ugh, there’s just too much to doooo” you whined as you plopped down onto his bed in the state house, exhausted and sore all over from setting up not one, not two, but three whole settlements in one day. Of course it wouldn’t be a day out in the commonwealth if you hadn’t run into monstrosities along the way or people along the way to other settlements who needed other things from you. For instance, there was someone who needed saved from thinking they were a synth and returned to their parents, other people who needed help getting their settlements started, people who needed you to kill some super mutants, people who needed you to eliminate some feral ghouls some place else, and after that you couldn’t even remember if you tried. Thank goodness for your Pip-Boy keeping track of these things or else you feared you’d never remember it all. There was just so much that others, especially Preston, were asking of you to do out here that it was beginning to become just a bit too overwhelming to take on all at once. You loved that you could be help for people, so unfortunately you never really paid your own wellbeing any mind until now that it was at such a detriment you could hardly even think straight, much less accurately hit a target or properly even speak to someone without sounding like intelligence was your dump stat. You wanted ever so badly to be that light for people who had seemed to lose hope because it’s what you would want others to do for you if you were in need. You lived and breathed by that golden rule taught to you so long ago. Come to think of it, the only person who you’d done everything for last that you could remember was Hancock, which was actually how you two ended up together.

“Being commander of the Minutemen will do that to ya, sunshine” Hancock teased, leaning against the door frame as he looked at you, tiredly splayed out on his bed in amusement, finding it funny that the commander of such a large militia could be so…well, you. Anyone else would likely be overwhelmed with power to the point of paranoia, or the opposite and let it go to their head and break them of the person they once were, but you were still yourself through everything. He admired the way you wanted to help people, the way you helped the poor and needy in the ways he wished the rich would do, but he could tell it was taking a clear toll on your wellbeing in doing so. He genuinely couldn’t remember the last time you told someone no, or that you flat out just couldn’t help them because he could see that look in your eyes when someone asked you for help. He saw the sympathy, the pain, saw the way you felt so bad knowing that if you didn’t, they likely wouldn’t make it out in the harsh world of the commonwealth. His heart ached for you in that sense, because he remembers a time when he wanted to help everyone in his town that he could, any way he could, hell it was the whole reason he became the mayor of Goodneighbor in the first place. But just like you, he needed someone to make him realize that you can’t do everything, some things just have to play out and fix themselves on their own. “But I think you need to take a break from it for a day or two, give yourself a chance to recoup. You’re working’ yourself to death and I’m startin’ to get worried” he added, walking into the room to join you and he watched you sit up, looking completely defeated and worried at the idea of not helping others or running things for just a day, let alone two but also at the fact that now he was concerned for you. “But they need me, John. If I don’t help them…what would become of them? What kind of leader would I be to just leave them in shambles? I can’t live with the idea of lives lost because of me…” you said with a guilty tone, clearly torn between the idea of helping yourself or helping others, and the sweet innocence of your good natured personality made him smile softly as he closed the door behind him and sat down next to you on his bed.

“Even heros need a vacation, love. Helping people who won’t make it is wonderful, it’s one of the many things I love about you. But people can just as easily be hurt when they’re guided in the wrong direction because the person directing them isn’t taking care of themselves the way they need to. A good leader needs strength sure, but that strength depletes and needs replenished every now and again, and that’s okay” he said, grabbing your hand in his, squeezing it in the hopes to offer you some level of comfort to assure you his words meant no harm, he simply just wanted you to look out for yourself as much as you looked out for others around you. He knew it got through to you when he heard you exhale an audible deep breath you’d been holding in for so long. “I guess, I just…I don’t know. It feels extra difficult for me because I can never stay focused on just one thing. I get started on one project, then someone comes along and I get so side tracked trying to help them that I forget all about where I started! I probably have twenty of these damn missions at least half started before I dropped them for something else entirely. It’s so frustrating and overwhelming because then they all start to pile up, and then I don’t know where to start!” you explained, making him laugh. Who would have ever guessed his big, fearless commander of the Minutemen, partner was easily sidetracked by their ADHD. But he wouldn’t want you any other way. “Yet you completed everything I asked of you with no issue” he pointed out with a smug grin, making you blush at the realization that he noticed that. “Well…yeah. I did it because I liked you and wanted to get closer to you. I was fixated on it because I wanted it to better my chances of being with you, so to me it wasn’t work. It was just doing something that you, someone I care for, asked me to do, so I did it” you admitted bashfully, making him smile at the wholesome reason you gave him. “That’s so fucking cute” Hancock replied as he put his arm around you, pulling you into his side, making you blush even more before covering your face with your hands. “It’s cute until you realize I killed someone for you” you quipped with a grin once you’d moved your hands away to look at him, making him chuckle at your reply. “Made it even” he joked, referring to when Finn tried to haggle you when you first showed up to Goodneighbor. “Fair enough” you responded as you chuckled, but he could still tell that you hadn’t fully come around to the idea yet, something still had its hold on you but at least you started to open up to the idea.

“C’mon, let’s just take the next couple of days to relax. The settlements will be fine, they run pretty well on their own, I’m sure they can survive a day or two without you. Maybe Nick or Codsworth can run ship while you take the time to yourself” he said, making you lean your head against his shoulder as you contemplated it. “Poor Codsworth, I wouldn’t do that to him. He tended to my house for two hundred years despite the absolute state of decay it was in from the explosions, thinking the family would come back any day and it drove him nearly mad. I could only imagine what running settlements would do to him” you said, making him chuckle. “Okay then how ‘bout Nick? He’s traveled with you long enough, he’s a smart guy, I’m sure he could handle it. I’m sure he’d more than understand that you need some time to yourself to get back that good ol’ fighting spirit” he added. “You think so?” You asked skeptically, making him sling his arm around your waist to hold you close and help ease your nerves the best he could. It was times like these that you wished you had the confidence and aloof attitude Hancock had about just about everything. “I know so. Think about it, you set them up, taught them what they know, they already manage pretty well on their own, they got this! Just lay back and relax for a change!” he said, easing your nerves just a little bit more at the idea. For someone who never wanted a leader to be too comfortable, he really wanted you to be, it was strange yet heart warming to see how much he cared about you and wanted to make sure you were taking care of yourself. So you finally gave in, maybe a couple of days to relax and do what you wanted to do didn’t sound bad after all. Maybe you could enjoy a couple of drinks one night, or hell, maybe enjoy just sleeping in a bed two nights in a row for a change, give your body a rest from sleeping on the cold hard ground in a sleeping bag. And not have to worry about all the things floating around in your mind that need done. That sounded like heaven to you once you convinced yourself with Hancock’s help that it could really be useful. “Okay, but if I do, I can’t just lay in bed all day. I literally can’t, I’ll go crazy” you said, making him laugh, knowing the way you can’t sit still for more than a few minutes at a time just on the regular while you’re on the go. “We don’t have to, these couple of days are for what you wanna do sunshine. Though I wouldn’t mind it of course if we spent all of it in bed, but staying in bed all day doesn’t necessarily mean *just* sleeping, ya know” he said, his voice slipping into that characteristic deep, gravelly suggestive tone with a mischievous grin painting his thin, irradiated lips as he pulled you into his side, making you laugh. “John!” You said, seemingly flabbergasted at his reply, but truthfully you hadn’t expected anything less from him. “Oh you know I love it when you yell my name, keep doin’ it sunshine” he said flirtatiously with that ever recognizable smirk painted across his face as he crawled on top of you on the bed, littering your face and neck with kisses through a shared fit of laughter. Maybe a little break wouldn’t be so bad after all.

[leclerced]

thinking about Charles and teammate!gf (she rly needs a name!) being all over each other when they think they’re alone in the back of a dark club after a race but one of the drivers catches them (idk who— maybe Lando? Danny?? someone who’d for sure clown them about slipping up even tho everyone already knew they’ve been fucking for months)

Charles would be annoyed at them for interrupting more than anything as his hands never left her body, too drunk and smitten with her to care that they’d been found out. he just shrugs and smiles stupidly and waves the other driver away so he can go back to kissing his hot girlfriend <3

also I love thinking abt him teaching her French, his accent does things to me so I just KNOW girly would be absolutely dripping hearing him whisper all his dirty thoughts about her in her ear when they’re working and she’s not allowed to touch him. she’d get him back for it later though and have him whimpering underneath her in his driver’s room as she makes out with him and sits on his lap, grinding softly against his cock straining in his racing suit 🤭

help I’m hyperfixating and I need more of your thoughts pleeaaseeee 🫶🏼

im so sorry i saw this when u sent it but i was at work and forgot about it n then got sick and lost it pls forgive me <33 we do need to give her a name!!

max is the one to catch them because the three of them shared a podium together and yet he’s the only one partying as such, so he’s looking for them to pull them into his drinking shenanigans. he finds them in a booth at the very back of the vip section, after searching everywhere else he goes back to the couple he saw out of the corner of his eye while leaving the section earlier, he almost convinces himself it’s not them but then the couple parts for air and she goes for his neck, and max recognizes the blissed out face of his best friend as his head tips back and he moans, and as max gets closer, he realizes that she’s grinding on his lap. he slaps his hand on the table and they jolt apart as he teases, “since when are you two going at it?” as soon as charles sees max he laughs, and just shrugs, “awhile. don’t tell.” and max looks around to the drunk drivers meandering around the club and realizes even if one of them saw, they’re probably all too drunk to realize its the two ferrari drivers getting hot and heavy, or too drunk to remember it in the morning.

charles waves him away with one hand and cups her cheek to pull her in for another kiss with his other hand and max leaves them to it, after taking a photograph of them making out so even if he gets too drunk to remember, he’ll have the photo evidence to remind him in the morning so he can tease charles about it.

he speaks french alll the time around her, not even to her but to anyone who knows french. she never knows what he’s saying so it doesn’t even matter, he’s talking about how bad his race was and she’s dripping for him, like imagine it it happens in an interview, the interviewer speaks french by chance so charles they’re using french constantly. the cameras catch her biting her lip staring straight at him with the neediest look and f1 twit goes crazy for it, like damn girl gets it, she goes crazy for charles speaking french too.

but the dirty talk really gets her, she knows it’s dirty when he leans into her ear in a back hallway and puts his hand on her waist and starts whispering in a low voice all the things he wants to do to her, he’s not even doing anything and she wants to moan for him. anytime they get out of the car, he has a reason to be close to her, pretending they’re talking about the car as he gestures at ir but he’s really saying all the positions he wants to put her in. or telling her how he’d fuck her on the car.

as soon as they have a break, she’s pulling him away to her drivers room and after making out and grinds on him until he’s ready to cum in his suit, then she’d get off on his thigh. he loves when she does that so he’d be so into it, be even more turned on and half expecting her to get on her knees and finish him off like usual, but she leaves him high and dry. later, when he finds her in her garage, she asks him how it feels to be teased?

[bellisima-writes]

10 Questions for Fic Writers

Thanks so much for the tag @katiefrog217!!

Absolutely NO pressure tagging, but these folks have written some lovely pieces on AO3 and if they want to participate and talk about their art, they deserve to: @di-42, @addledmongoose, @notalostcausejustyet, @hikarry

1. How many works do you have on AO3? |

Two (one completed and one WIP about 40-50% done)

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

*shifts uncomfortably in chair*

According to the stats page I just discovered (seriously how long has THAT thing been there?), I've published 185,536 words on AO3 (WHATTTTTTT in the what?!?).

3. What Fandoms do You Write For?

I've only ever written for Good Omens.

If we want to discuss what other Fandoms I have hyperfixated on and created elaborate stories only to not ever write them down? Then we can also include BBC Sherlock, The X Files, Stranger Things, and my OG from when I was a kid, Star Trek TNG. But I've only ever put pen to paper for Good Omens.

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Every. Single. One. If someone cares enough about what I write to make a comment, I am absolutely responding. The only time I don't respond to each is if there are multiple on a single chapter or I respond to one from a later chapter before the earlier one. Otherwise, I really do try to respond and thank every reader who's ever left me a note. It means the world to me.

5. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Nope.

6. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

No, but I've discussed it briefly with some people and would honestly love to.

7. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Aziraphale/Crowley. Though when I was a kid I was also obsessed with Niles and Daphne from Fraiser and every time I rewatch that show I am right back there (yes...old I know but it was good soup back in the Must See TV Thursday era).

8. What are your Writing Strengths?

Ummm...I think I build good plot, tension and (somewhat) unexpected twists into stories well. I have an inability to not try to figure out puzzles, which makes me annoying to watch movies with but turns out is a good skill for actually building twisty stories.

I also personally think my characterization and dialogue are strong, but that could be up for debate.

9. What are your Writing Weaknesses?

One completed fic and one WIP at 185k words is pretty self explanatory, I think. I spend a lot of time in set up and making sure the plot points I write are earned and while I do lean on the source material, I also feel a compulsive need to build out the motivations of my versions of these characters.

I can't write something thats out of character, my brain literally won't let me. It will get painfully stuck until I admit, this would not happen this way and abandon the scene and start over. I have an entirely written alternate version of the Last Angel that I completely scrapped at one point because it just wasn't right...

I also struggle with descriptive language. It's why I never, ever thought to write before entering this fandom last fall. Fanfiction is such a gift because everyone already has a picture of the world you're writing, of the people who are speaking, of their tone of voice, and so you don't have to spend time describing the landscape or physical qualities. So that huge gap in my skillset doesn't affect the story as much.

And humor. I want to be funny, so badly. And lighthearted. But my stuff tends to lean into the difficult themes in the universes the stories take place in. People who write humor well are unicorns and I worship them. Part of the reason I scrapped that alternate version of the Last Angel was because I was leaning into the funny a lot more and it just ended up not feeling realistic to the situation.

And grammar. My grammar could always grammar better.

10. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

My initial Good Omens fic was the first story I ever wrote.

[autistpride]

Hi.. I hope you don't mind a bit of a long ask. So I've seen from your posts that you have autism, and I was wondering if I could have your opinion on something. More recently I've been questioning if I might have autism myself, but I'm really unsure about it and my family seems pretty adamant that I don't. The main reason that they think I don't is because they're used to stereotypes, and they don't think I could have it because I understand and use a lot of sarcasm, even though I've told them that it's a spectrum and everyone is different. Of course I know that your opinion won't make up for an official diagnosis, but as of now I'm too embarrassed to even mention that I MIGHT have it, because if I'm wrong I'll feel like one of those people who fakes disorders or something. So, if you're willing to listen, I was going to list out some of the traits that I've been called 'weird' or 'alien' over, and see if maybe you think they could possibly mean autism? I hope that's okay with you 😅

•I always get the exact same foods from restaurants that I go to frequently. If they don't have what I usually get, I most likely won't eat anything at all.

•Speaking of those foods, I always eat them in the exact same order. The burger, then the fries, then the nuggets. The breadsticks, then the fish, then the shrimp, y'know? I don't know when or why I started doing this, I've just sort of always done it.

•I have a huge problem staying still, something that I get very self conscious about in public. I'm always tapping my feet, rocking back and forth, clicking something in my hands, chewing on water bottle caps, and just generally refusing to sit in one spot. I also love to pace when I'm trying to formulate ideas, as I feel it really helps me think.

•I can't stand wearing jeans. I mean I won't go crazy if I have to, but they always make me feel restricted. I thought for a while that it was just how restricting they were, but I've found that other tight pants don't make me feel the same way?

•I DESPISE nail files. I can't explain it, but just the sensation of that sandpaper-like stuff rubbing against my nails activates my fight or flight response, I just feel like bolting it gives me bad goosebumps all over.

•I hyperfixate on stuff hard, I pick things up quick but also drop them hard. Recently I picked up DC/Batfam as a hyperfixation and I've been fully leaning into it ever since, spending pretty much all of my time making art or stories about it (Or at the very least thinking about the characters in some way). However back a few years ago I was hyperfixated on Markiplier Egos, and then one day I just.. Dropped it out of nowhere, and haven't been able to pick it back up since.

•This one's really iffy but I feel like I get irritated a lot super super easily, and I used to think it was just anger issues but for one: It's almost never something to get upset about, and for two: It usually happens when I've been talking to someone for a little too long or when someone interrupts my quiet time. So if we're going with the whole maybe autism thing, it might be overstimulation..? Idk..

•I'm super light sensitive, pretty much every time I go outside I say 'Wow it's bright out there" when I come back in. It's so noticeable that I used to not only notice, but attribute it to an eye injury I had once. Except that injury wasn't serious and is fully healed, so that's probably not it.

•I have a lot of trouble speaking sometimes. I feel like my words never come out the way that I want them to, and I often end up slurring them around so much that what I'm trying to say becomes pretty much incomprehensible, which always makes me frustrated because I get misunderstood a lot.

•I don't really understand what other people are feeling most of the time, and I get annoyed when they won't just tell me what they want instead of vaguely hinting about it and expecting me to know what they need.

•I'm always being told to speak up because I 'mumble', even though I think I'm talking at an acceptable volume.

•I ramble. A lot. (Sorry 😭👍)

But yeah, those are just some of the thing that I've been jokingly called 'strange' for over the years. Like I said earlier, I know that your opinion is nothing like an actual diagnosis, but hearing your thoughts on whether or not I might have it would mean a lot to me since you're someone who's been diagnosed!

Hi annon!

Let me preface this by saying I'm so proud of you for really taking the time to think about all this and dig into your life and behaviors.

Then to ask someone about it is very brave!

I wish there was a way to reply without showing your entire ask message. I feel terrible sharing your private thoughts with everyone.

I'm not a professional so I don't feel qualified to say yes or no. And as much as I want to give you some reassurance, I can't give you something definite. Especially when I don't know you in order to form a proper opinion.

Yes many of those things are things that indicate you could be autistic.

There is a lot of overlap and they could be things related to other Neurodivergent diagnosis such as ADHD, anxiety, OCD, etc and not just autism.

However, I will say if you're even questioning if you're autistic it's a pretty good chance you're autistic or some kind of Neurodivergent. Most neurotypical people often don't think this hard on if they could be autistic or not. 😉

You have put a lot of thought into this and my suggestion is to keep researching and doing what you're doing. Keeping notes also if you'd like. Why?

Because....

1. Keeping notes and continuing research allows you to have a record of everything.

2. The notes would also come in handy for if you ever seek an assessment.

3. With more time, you will become more self aware and confident in your thoughts on what you believe about if you're autistic. You can then sit down with your family and explain why you think you're autistic.

4. If the comes a time you'd like to try an assessment, you can talk to a gp or therapist if you have one and have them place the appropriate things for you to have that done. Your family needn't be part of the process if you're of legal age. But you may need adult permission for the evaluation if you are considered a minor.

5. Self diagnosis is valid in the autism community. Its valid because a diagnosis is very challenging for many to obtain, and in some situations dangerous.

This doesn't mean someone just wakes up one morning and says "oh I think I'm autistic today". No. They have done hours and hours of research and evaluated their own life, mannerisms, and behaviors, and said "I really think I'm autistic."

Self diagnosised individuals get the benefit of knowing themselves and finding support in the community without ever getting access to supports any official way. They can't get school/work accomodations, financial assistance, medical/mental health services, or really any supports put in place that require an official diagnosis to obtain.

Some would claim self diagnosis isn't valid due to exactly what you pointed out, making a claim of a diagnosis without qualifications and due to the huge overlap and other factors, but the wait times, cost, and unfortunately things like race and gender are barriers to obtaining an assessment and diagnosis. I know in the UK the current NHS wait time is 7-10 years unless you go private. I know in the US getting an assessment as an adult is challenging as most professionals won't evaluate people over 18 and the cost is upwards to $7k depending on location because most insurances won't cover it.

You are always welcome to continue messaging me. I'm happy to answer any questions and I honestly enjoy talking to people when I can.

And in case no one's told you

You're not broken, a burden, and there is nothing wrong with you!

Be your best and amazing self! ✨

[theshippingcorner]

Wednesday Adams x Female Vampire Reader?

I would be lying if I said Wendsday isn't a hyperfixation right now! I can't promise it'll be perfect, might be a big long winded but I like a good build up to the point if you didn't notice lol

Wendsday wasn't exactly one to get attached, she barely put up with Enid sometimes as much as she did care for her friend, so growing close to yet another outcast girl was something she had to get used to tolerating, especially having to tolerate the irritating and complex feelings she always had being around her...regardless she at least learned to make an effort with friendships thanks to Enid, even if they made her feel feelings that she didn't want to address.

That's why today in particular she went out of her way to find you, leaning down over your shoulder while you were busy reading, staring at the book a second before giving a small hum,

"Are you enjoying that book?"

You nearly jumped out of your seat hearing her, she was very good at sneaking up on people when she wanted to and when she didn't want to. You cleared your throat though and smiled at her, nodding a bit.

"Mhm, it's very good if you want to borrow it at any point to read~!"

You put a bookmark in the book for now as she nodded and sat beside you with a hum,

"I might, how have you been doing though?"

She seemed off to you, but when didn't she seem a little bit off when she was around you? Sometimes you had to worry if you did something wrong.

"Good, what about you though? I know you're pretty gloomy as is but you seem gloomy in a bad way right now."

She sort of buffered and had to think about the question before humming softly and shaking her head,

"I'm doing fine just distracted is all, it happens. I'm sure Enid would be happy to tell you how often I seem to ignore her when she's speaking."

She sighed a little but hardly seemed mad, she didn't seem like she could ever really stay mad at Enid. You had to at least smile, even if you didn't like the idea that she would like someone else you still nudged her playfully with a little hum,

"You talk about Enid a whole lot, you sure you don't fancy girls Adams~?"

She was caught off guard, shaking her head quickly and pouting

"Even if I did like girls Enid is far too much for me, I would probably prefer someone more like myself."

Though what exactly that meant she wasn't sure, yeah she liked Enid but not in that way. She didn't really think about love after how badly she failed at it with boys. You however decided to be bold, and take a chance.

"What about girls like me then~?"

Being a vampire, dark and gloomy aesthetic sort of came with the territory, that and you had a bit in common which is how you became friends in the first place! She looked like she really had to think about it before you could see the faintest amount of pink on her pale cheeks as she crossed her arms with a hum,

"I suppose you would be more my type yes, if I were to be with a girl."

You laughed a bit at the sudden shyness, it was a step away from her usually blunt and straightforward personality for sure. Her attitude gave you all the more confidence as you scooted a bit closer and put a finger up to your lips.

"I wouldn't be mad if you wanted to test those feelings~"

She was surprised and a bit flustered, but at this point she has kissed a criminal so what could really go wrong? Besides it would stop you from teasing her, so she grabbed you by the collar of your shirt and kissed you softly!

She held the kiss a moment before letting go of your collar and sitting back, her pale face a bright shade of pink as she crossed her arms again.

"There, now you don't need to tease about it."

You laughed a bit, blushing bright pink yourself as you happily poked her cheek.

"Oh yeah~? You want to tell me what you learned from it then?"

There was a hesitation clear in her face, before she caved a bit and sighed, it definitely explained those feelings she didn't want to pay attention to all this time...

"I'm pretty sure I learned that I like you."

[myrandomautistichouse]

Hi.. I hope you don't mind a bit of a long ask. So I've seen from your posts that you have autism, and I was wondering if I could have your opinion on something. More recently I've been questioning if I might have autism myself, but I'm really unsure about it and my family seems pretty adamant that I don't. The main reason that they think I don't is because they're used to stereotypes, and they don't think I could have it because I understand and use a lot of sarcasm, even though I've told them that it's a spectrum and everyone is different. Of course I know that your opinion won't make up for an official diagnosis, but as of now I'm too embarrassed to even mention that I MIGHT have it, because if I'm wrong I'll feel like one of those people who fakes disorders or something. So, if you're willing to listen, I was going to list out some of the traits that I've been called 'weird' or 'alien' over, and see if maybe you think they could possibly mean autism? I hope that's okay with you 😅

•I always get the exact same foods from restaurants that I go to frequently. If they don't have what I usually get, I most likely won't eat anything at all.

•Speaking of those foods, I always eat them in the exact same order. The burger, then the fries, then the nuggets. The breadsticks, then the fish, then the shrimp, y'know? I don't know when or why I started doing this, I've just sort of always done it.

•I have a huge problem staying still, something that I get very self conscious about in public. I'm always tapping my feet, rocking back and forth, clicking something in my hands, chewing on water bottle caps, and just generally refusing to sit in one spot. I also love to pace when I'm trying to formulate ideas, as I feel it really helps me think.

•I can't stand wearing jeans. I mean I won't go crazy if I have to, but they always make me feel restricted. I thought for a while that it was just how restricting they were, but I've found that other tight pants don't make me feel the same way?

•I DESPISE nail files. I can't explain it, but just the sensation of that sandpaper-like stuff rubbing against my nails activates my fight or flight response, I just feel like bolting it gives me bad goosebumps all over.

•I hyperfixate on stuff hard, I pick things up quick but also drop them hard. Recently I picked up DC/Batfam as a hyperfixation and I've been fully leaning into it ever since, spending pretty much all of my time making art or stories about it (Or at the very least thinking about the characters in some way). However back a few years ago I was hyperfixated on Markiplier Egos, and then one day I just.. Dropped it out of nowhere, and haven't been able to pick it back up since.

•This one's really iffy but I feel like I get irritated a lot super super easily, and I used to think it was just anger issues but for one: It's almost never something to get upset about, and for two: It usually happens when I've been talking to someone for a little too long or when someone interrupts my quiet time. So if we're going with the whole maybe autism thing, it might be overstimulation..? Idk..

•I'm super light sensitive, pretty much every time I go outside I say 'Wow it's bright out there" when I come back in. It's so noticeable that I used to not only notice, but attribute it to an eye injury I had once. Except that injury wasn't serious and is fully healed, so that's probably not it.

•I have a lot of trouble speaking sometimes. I feel like my words never come out the way that I want them to, and I often end up slurring them around so much that what I'm trying to say becomes pretty much incomprehensible, which always makes me frustrated because I get misunderstood a lot.

•I don't really understand what other people are feeling most of the time, and I get annoyed when they won't just tell me what they want instead of vaguely hinting about it and expecting me to know what they need.

•People always tell me to speak up because I 'mumble', even though I think I'm talking at an acceptable level.

•The last time I got told suddenly I was going to have to go on a trip, I cried so hard that they just cancelled it lmao

•I ramble. A lot. (Sorry 😭👍)

But yeah, those are just some of the thing that I've been jokingly called 'strange' for over the years. Like I said earlier, I know that your opinion is nothing like an actual diagnosis, but hearing your thoughts on whether or not I might have it would mean a lot to me since you're someone who's been diagnosed!

First thank you for the ask.

So when I read your list, I see that you can be autistic. I don't like certain fabrics. I can also be quickly irritated by people.

There are some that can be both for autisic people and ADHD.

When it comes to words. When I have a hard time speaking, I'm either tired. Or I'm having an emotional start of a bad day

When I read the list. I think you are autisic. If you want a diagnosis, find one who listens to you. Getting one is hard. I was lucky with my parents and a good doctor

Also, I don't mind the long text. You can always ask me stuff .

[coldhndss]

──★ ˙ ̟ Blue Lock Matchup No.3 Anon whose MBTI is INFJ, and has a 4w5 enneagram

Hello, thank you for being part of my event! Your description was well written, and it made it super easy for me to figure out who to match you to!

I decided to match you to Hiori Yo!

 ―୨୧⋆ ˚  “My hobbies are drawing, playing games, reading and writing short stories and I enjoy learning stuff like history and biology…”

As confusing as it sounds, Hiori’s apparent preferred type of person is, naturally, one who would sort of not swarm him; i.e., someone who would leave him alone when needed, and not be too obsessive of him or overbearing with him. Keeping his backstory in mind, it makes sense. 

So, with the majority of your hobbies being the types of things that can be done alone, not inclusive of things like going shopping, or going out to a theme park together, the two of you would definitely bond over something like this, and I doubt it’d take long for him to warm up to you. Some say that opposites attract, but there are some people who prefer to be around their own type of people, and both of you give off that type of vibe. 

So instead of going places and travelling, the only places you’d really go to are shops nearby to buy food and the like, and to the field, to watch his games. He’s not a complete shut in of course. Sometimes, the two of you walk together; I’d imagine that Hiori likes nature, and walking on trails and sightseeing, are calm places where basically anyone would feel at peace. Maybe the two of you would go to an aquarium, zoo, or a botanical garden. He’d take photos of you looking at the flowers and record you fawning over the seals at the aquarium. He holds these types of memories of you close to his heart.

Since we don’t actually know Hiori’s favourite school subjects, I feel like he’d be interested in the Humanities and Sciences, as they are somewhat difficult yet calm(ish) type subjects. They usually reflect the personality of the person as refined and gentle (I’m not yapping I promise this is just my opinion) and these same subjects happen to be what you’ve noted!

In a school setting, this is how I imagine the two of you would get along:

You and Hiori are in the same class, and constantly compete with each other in your subjects to see who comes out on top. When its you who comes first, he blames it on his training schedule, and when its him who comes first, you blame it on the fact that you didn’t study enough. The point difference between the two of you is always 1-3 points, so either way, the both of you always top the class together. 

 ―୨୧⋆ ˚  “ I rarely speak unless I have something important to say but I yap about my interests and hyperfixations a lot”

Needless to say, its widely assumed that Hiori is introverted and keeps to himself. Though, that doesn’t mean that he’s necessarily antisocial or boring. He usually listens in and puts his own input during a conversation. I’m sure He’d listen to what you have to say, and definitely make you feel heard. 

You may be watching a video documentary on something you’re interested in, or playing a game that he doesn’t know much about. He’d come and sit next to you, lean his head on your shoulder, and silently watch what you’re watching or playing. That way, if he doesn’t know much about something you like, he wouldn’t outright say it, but he’d try to figure it out by paying attention when you engage in it. He wouldn’t want to interrupt you while you’re talking about it since you’d look so happy and excited, and he doesn’t want you to lose your train of thought. He thinks that it’s nice for someone to enjoy something naturally without feeling any pressure to do so, since he didn’t have that same luxury.

 ―୨୧⋆ ˚   “I'm straightforward and work is my top priority as I dislike slacking and people who can't take stuff seriously.”

Work ethic can be super important for anyone who wants to be the top at what they do. This mindset of yours would help not only you, but even motivate Hiori, who might not always feel like he’s in the best mental state to be playing sports. Pre his awakening in the manga, his demotivation may get to him, and make him feel like he’s not good enough at soccer. That’s where you’d motivate him, and remind him of his achievements, while also making sure that he feels better about himself and his skills. 

Post his awakening in the manga, his vital role as a player would become one of his top priorities, never backing down or falling victim to the demotivation which once had a tight grip on him before. Part of him gives you credit for keeping his motivation afloat back when he thought no one else saw potential in him anymore. 

[vcnillazelda]

nightmares

john ���soap” mactavish x reader

summary: whilst on a mission, you confide in someone close to you about your past.

tags: reader was apart of ghosts, past relationship (keegan/reader), mentioned hesh and logan, soap is a sweetheart, ghost is grumpy, but he cares about his two idiots <3, story telling (probs a dialogue heavy fic sorry), night terrors, ptsd, mild age difference (reader is 19 and johnny is 24), shitty home lives, implied! abusive family, reader’s call sign is viper, angst with a happy ending, fluff, kisses, getting together, father figure price bc i’m mentally ill, some dialogue lines from child psychology by black box recorder bc i love them <3

yes ik this is probably gonna be inaccurate but i’ve been hyperfixated on this idea so i’m gonna write it.

✞———————❖———————✞

“logan!” you scream, tears flowing down your face. “logan- no!” the blonde crumbles to the floor, weak, injured, dying. hesh is distraught, keegan’s distant, you’re sobbing. inside, you feel like you’re the one dying. everything happens in a flash and you feel sick, stomach swirling like you’re gonna hurl. you’re washed up on the beach, waking up, sea water in your mouth. next thing you know, logan’s taken, and that’s where it all ends.

you wake with a gasp, jolting up onto your elbow. you had been lay on your side, your body now supported by your arm. “fuck..” you whisper, running your hand over your face, not caring for the skull face paint on your skin anymore. “viper?” johnny mutters, scottish voice thick with sleep. “sorry, johnny. didn’t mean to wake you.” you whisper, and he hums. “it’s alright. just don’t wake simon.” he jokes, and you humour him with a soft laugh, getting up and stretching a little. “i’m gonna go have a smoke.” you mutter. you hear a small rustle behind you, and light footsteps. of course he was going to follow you, both of you knew this. simon often called johnny your shadow, or your dog, based on how the sergeant would follow you around base as well as off base.

“need a light?” johnny asks, offering his lighter as you hold the cigarette between your lips. you hum, accepting your friend’s lighter with a small nod as thanks. “want one?” you ask, voice muffled slightly around the bud. “go on then.” soap pinches a smoke from your packet, which had been crumpled in your jean pocket. johnny let’s you lean close, lighting his cigarette with yours as you press the lighter into his hand. “thanks.” johnny puffs out a small cloud, taking the cig from his lips. you hum, taking a longer drag than usual before snatching your own cigarette between your fingers. “what was your dream about?” johnny asks, and you glance to him, smoke flowing from your nostrils as you sit in silence for a moment. “sorry?”

“you had a bad dream. what happened?” his eyes are mixed with adoration and worry, and you laugh a little. “it’s nothing.” you mutter, leaning against the balcony of the building’s roof. you had to give it to simon for picking a café like this, the view of the street was beautiful. “viper…” johnny mutters, clearly not knowing what to say otherwise. “just finish your smoke and go back to bed, yeah?” you sigh. “i’m worried about you.” johnny admits, and you nod. “i know.” you say, taking a drag of your cig. “then talk to me. i want to help.” his palm rests upon your back, and you sigh. “just go to bed johnny.” you whisper, voice small, vulnerable. “i want to help.” he repeats, voice calm compared to yours.

“i know you do, but you’re not my therapist.” you snap. the air between you both is silent and pregnant with anticipation. neither one of you says anything, but johnny’s hand leaves your back. “just go to bed. please.” you whisper, a silent beg. “i’m not leaving you, y/n.” johnny sits upon the bench near the railing, you glance to him. “why do you care so much? you barely know me outside of all this.” you mutter, looking away. “i care because we’re friends. whether i ‘know’ you or not.” johnny speaks softly. you both inwardly cringe, a small silence overcasting the balcony. “do you want to hear a story?” johnny asks, you look to him. “okay..?”

he pats the bench beside him, and you roll your eyes, sitting down. “i have a phobia of dogs.” he admits suddenly, you laugh softly. “what?” johnny hums, nodding a little. “it’s true. i was in the park with me ma’ and i got bit by this big doberman. had to go to hospital and have stitches along my arm.” he shows you the thin scar upon his forearm and you hum. “i was five, and i’ve been terrified of dogs ever since.” johnny finishes, and you smile a little. “thats a shame. i love dogs.” you reply, taking a drag from your cigarette. “you got any stories from your past?” he asks, and you hum. “i don’t think so.”

“come on, viper. you’ve got to have at least one for me.” johnny smiles. “alright, alright. let me think.” you pretend for a moment, in reality you weren’t thinking all that hard, but johnny sits patiently as you drag out the silence. “i stopped talking when i was six.” you admit, and johnny hums softly. “how come?” he asks, genuinely intrigued, cigarette left aside in an idle ashtray upon a bin as he turns to you. “i didn’t really want anything to do with the outside world. i was happy being quiet.” you shrug, taking a drag from your cig. “but, of course, they wouldn’t leave me alone.” you sigh through your nose. johnny’s clearly intrigued in learning about you past to the point where he looked adorable, head tilted a little, eyes sparkling. “they..?” he asks, and you nod. “my parents, they tried every trick in the book. from speech therapists to child psychologists.” you huff out a sour laugh. “they even tried bribery. i could have anything, all i had to do was say it.” johnny smiles a little at the thought of a tiny you retrieving gifts for speaking. “of course this episode didn’t last forever. i had made my point, it was time to move on.” you shrug, stretching a little. “your point?”

“got into an argument with my sister. i said i wasn’t gonna talk to her again. i won that one.” you laugh a little. johnny chuckles too. “how petty of you.” you nod, a proud smile on your face. he’s happy that you’re feeling better. you carried on with a story. “my school report always said i showed no interest. ‘a disruptive influence’ i almost felt sorry for them.” you shrug, finishing your cigarette, stepping and grinding out the lit bud. “when they finally expelled me, it didn’t mean a thing.” you shrug, leaning back against the arm of the bench, meeting johnny’s gaze as you tuck a leg under yourself, the other hanging off the bench. you take to using your arm as a headrest instead of leaning on the hard wood. “after some beatings and getting kicked out, i ran off to america… joined the army.” you mutter, soap perks up.

“why america?” johnny furrows his brows, and you sigh. “had some family in the army. i didn’t wanna risk it.” you explain, and johnny hums, letting you continue. “i lied about my age, at 17 years old i worked my way up as a scout and a sniper for a whole year until i was eventually put into a special task force of people at 18. we were called ghosts.” johnny chuckles a little at the name. “would a certain someone we know also have been involved?” he jokes, and you chuckle softly. “no. simon wasn’t there.” johnny let’s out a joking “aww”. “what happened in this task force?” he asks. you think for a moment. should you open up? fuck it. you had gotten this far. “this task force was responsible for fighting against a man and his homemade army… rorke. sleazy bastard. he used to be a ghost, y’know..?” of course he didn’t know, but he nodded anyway out of politeness. “so, we went after this fella. me, hesh- david, hesh’s brother logan, elias, merrick… and keegan.” you mutter. “keegan..?”

“we were seeing each other. kinda… i was being distant because at first because i had only turned 18 upon joining the ghosts, he was 38… i felt like i’d get him in trouble… but we grew closer. i told him everything and he simply held me and said “it’s all gonna be okay, kid”. he was so sweet… we were as thick as thieves.” you take a soft breath, gaze flitting away from johnny. he gently pats your shoulder. “where is he now..? if you don’t mind me asking?” johnny mutters. “he went back into the marines after ghosts disbanded.” you respond. “we went our separate ways as i came back to england.”

“why’d they disband? sounds like a good team.” he knew nothing about the team. he just wanted to know more about you. “everything went wrong. lots of people died… the leader of the ghosts was elias walker… david and logan’s father. he died in front of us, and we all felt helpless. it started crumbling there, but we kept on. then… the train- the fucking train.” you grimace, eyes closing. johnny stays quiet, hand rubbing your side gently to ease you back into talking. “what happened on the train..?” he asks after a beat of silence. “there was a fight- hesh got shot and the window broke and it flooded. i didn’t know what to do..” you whisper. soap furrows his brows. “flooded..?”

“we were underwater by the time hesh got shot. the window shattered and we had to scatter. both he and logan were w.i.a…” you explain, and johnny hums. “that makes a bit more sense. what happened after it flooded..?” you take a shaky breath, collecting yourself. “we got out, washed up on some beach… hesh was injured, so was logan. rorke, he was too, but he managed to get up… he-“ you choke up a little, and johnny acts on instinct. he pulls you into a hug. “take your time, doll. it’s okay.” he mutters, hooking his chin over your shoulder. “rorke- he took logan… dragged him away. i tried to get up, to help, but i lost them- i- i could of saved him, johnny…” you whimper, squeezing your friend tightly. “it’s okay. you did the best you could, i’m sure.”

“i was so scared… i froze. i found my way back to david and we cried together until we were rescued. a team swept the jungle, but we never found him… we never found logan- he’s still out there somewhere, johnny. i know he is.” you whisper, voice trembling. “if logan’s a fighter, he’ll be alright. the ghosts will find him.” johnny mutters. “it’s only david now. everyone split. rorke got away. he’s in hiding somewhere… i still have nightmares of him coming after me… after david too.” you mutter. “and that fucking train wreck of a mission.” your face nuzzles into johnny’s neck for comfort, tears wetting his skin. his palm gently rubbed your back until you felt a little better. “did you go home when they disbanded..?” johnny asks, hoping to change the subject. “yeah… i went back to england after seeing a psychologist.” you sit back a little, hands running along his arms before completely separating from johnny.

“it was a november day when i arrived home. all the christmas decorations came were already up.” you smile at the memory, but it’s bitter. “spray on snow, coloured flashing lights, and a damn christmas tree that played silent night, over and over again.” the two of you share a soft chuckle at the thought of the tree. “my parents welcomed me in with loving arms… but after an hour we were back at each other’s throats. that normal happy childhood back on course.” you joke, eyes still watery. “i’m sorry, y/n.” johnny sighs, unsure as to what else to say. “it’s alright. they’re long gone. i joined the army again, in england. that’s where price found me, picked me up…” you and the captain were close, a definite father-daughter bond between you both even though you had only served with the task force for two months. “he’s the reason you joined?” johnny asks, and you nod. “yeah. he saw what i could do and vouched for me.”

“i’m glad he did.” johnny smiles, and you smile too. “me too.” you mutter, glancing away almost shyly. “viper.. where’s that come from?” he asks, and you smile. “keegan always called me it. ‘little viper’. little because i looked so young to them all considering i said i was 21, forged documents and all… and the viper part came from how patient i was, yet my rifle had a sharp, sudden kick, like a viper strike i suppose. i was always quite happy at base, but i went quiet; hyper-focused in the field. sometimes they forgot i was there and i scared them on comms.” you laugh a little. “you still do that now.”

“back then it was worse.” you smile. johnny smiles too, that familiar fondness in his eyes. “it suits you… viper.” johnny mutters, and you smile softly. “yeah..?” you whisper, watching him as he moves in a little closer. “yeah…” his soft eyes flicker down to your lips, and you take that as an invitation. your lips meet, and it’s electric. the two of you part for a moment, checking the other’s reaction carefully before kissing again. your hand rests upon his neck, and johnny hummed softly, leaning in more. his hands slip under the hoodie you always wore under your tactical vest, and your own hands grasp his forearms, encouraging him.

“bloody hell, you two. was wondering where you two went.” a gruff voice snaps, and you both jump away. “simon..” you mutter, wiping your lips a little, looking to johnny and genuinely laughing as he blinks, dumbfounded. he had your face paint plastered faintly on his lips, black and white lines across his lips. quickly, he wipes his lips of the paint and simon rolls his eyes. “get back to bed both of you- separately..!” simon points between you both, clearly a bit grumpy. “roger that, l.t.” you smile at johnny who laughs a little. “is price still on watch?” you ask, and simon nods. “yeah. so get back to bed. we’ve gotta be up early in the morning.” simon commands, and you get up, passing by the tall, grouchy man. johnny does the same.

the room is dark, and you get back onto your makeshift bed, listening as johnny does the same. simon waits for a moment, probably smoking whilst he has the privacy. johnny laughs a little, and you smile. “what?” you ask, voice already humoured. “can’t believe we got caught like that.” johnny chuckles, and you giggle too. “i know. let’s hope he doesn’t tell price. he’ll have your head.” you joke. “yeah right. price loves me.” johnny replies. the two of you go silent as simon walks back in, watching you both carefully before getting to bed himself. as soon as you’re both sure he’s asleep, you both laugh quietly.

after what felt like forever, you had closed your eyes, yet you were anxious of falling asleep. you jump a little as someone nudges up against you, and johnny whispers softly into your ear. “sorry. didn’t mean to scare you.” he mutters, and you smile. “it’s okay. i thought simon said separately.” you joke, and johnny laughs silently. “he’s asleep. he won’t care when he’s awake and had some coffee.” johnny responds. you nod, rolling onto your side to cuddle into him. “so.. are we like..?” johnny trails off. “if you wanna be..?” you mumble, johnny smiles, kissing your lips gently. “alright. g’night, love.” he mumbles, a silent declaration. “good night, johnny.” you respond, squeezing him slightly as he cradles you close. you slept soundly for the first time in a year.

-

bonus:

you wake up to the sound of a truck rolling past, raising you up a little as your perked ears listen. it passes by, and you relax a little. price greets you softly, and you groan, head falling back onto your ‘pillow’. over night, johnny had stolen your pillow, so you had decided on using his bicep as a pillow instead. it was warm and comfortable so you didn’t care. “want some coffee, love?” price asks, he was sat next to some coffee pot he found. “there’s no milk, unfortunately. but it’ll do you until we get back to base.” you hum. “five more minutes.” you whine, and johnny shuffles a bit closer, still fast asleep. “evac’s gonna be here in 45. it’ll give you some time to freshen up.” you whine softly, peeling yourself from johnny’s tight grasp and gently shaking him. “no.” he slurs out, and you sigh, shaking him a bit more. eventually, johnny wakes up, wiping his eyes with furrowed brows. you glance to price, who winks at you, either proud or smug that he’s caught you cuddling with soap. simon was sat in the corner, silently sipping his coffee; mask raised a little yet still somehow covering his face.

“mornin’.” johnny stretches dramatically after adjusting to being awake, sitting up as well. “morning.” the sergeant jumps as price chuckles. “coffee, lad?” the older man asks, holding up the pot. “uh, yeah… please.” johnny mutters, acting like a teenager being caught by his girlfriend’s father. in a way, the situation was like that. you shuffle over to price, slouching against his side dramatically as he pours the coffee into two cups. “sleep well?” the captain teases, and you sigh. “shut up.” you accept a cup of coffee, putting it to the side to let it cool. “and you?” price looks to johnny, specifically where your face paint had smudged off onto his shirt. johnny pulls his tactical vest on, cheeks flustered. “yeah. it was alright.” he mumbles, sitting slightly across from price and near you.

“good. simon told me everything.” price deadpans, and johnny chokes on his coffee. one because it was scolding, and two because of the captain’s bluntness. “simon..!” you complain, leaning forward to look at the lieutenant. “sorry.” he shrugs, voice seemingly bored. “no you’re not.” you sneer jokingly, breaking into a smile. “you’re right, viper. i’m not.” simon jokes along, voice still that same monotone. johnny is flustered, swallowing roughly to try and soothe his tongue. “my apologies captain… it won’t happen again.” he mutters, truly afraid of price snapping at him. “you’re alright, son.” the older man laughs softly, and you both deflate a little. “i’m technically not viper’s dad, but she’s the closest i’ve ever had to having a daughter, and i’d still appreciate it if you’d treat her right.” price states, sipping his own coffee. “price.” you sigh, running a hand over your face.

“i will, sir. i promise.” johnny responds smoothly, glancing to you. you smile a little, and johnny smiles too. “right then. now that that’s all sorted, let’s talk about something else, yeah?” price shrugs, and both you and johnny mutter in agreement, simon simply shrugs. “so, johnny… i hear you’re afraid of dogs?” price teases, and poor johnny chokes on his coffee yet again. “you heard all that? even viper’s-?” price raises his hand to silence johnny. “i know of viper’s past. she’s only told me and her psychologist.” you nod a little, it’s sheepish. “i see.” johnny mutters. “i know too. your conversation wasn’t exactly quiet.” simon pipes up, and you roll your eyes. “we know, simon. thanks.” you state sarcastically. johnny huffs out a soft laugh. the bickering and teasing swaps between you all, and you smile to yourself, feeling as though you truly had a family again.

[thebibliosphere]

I had a question.

So, just an hour or two ago, I was going through some sort of “manic high”, sorta like how somebody with bipolar disorder would have (I don’t have BPD). It felt like a bullet train at max speed and completely derailing, and it was incredibly draining. It also got me wondering.

Do people with severe enough ADHD deal with ADHD episodes like this? My search attempts are often futile because all of it is just talking about how to differentiate between BPD and ADHD and BPD manic episodes, but nobody ever mentions ADHD episodes; the only time I’ve seen it mentioned ever was when somebody made a clip of crankgameplays to show what an ADHD episode looked like.

Do they even exist? I’ve got no idea, so I was just wondering if you knew.

Hey! Sorry, I saw your other ask a while ago, but I wanted to talk to my ADHD specialist before I answered because I’d never heard of the term “episode” being used to describe ADHD. I’m also going to splice both questions together here and answer them in segments in the hope it helps :)

So like I said, I’d never heard of the term “episode” with ADHD, and neither has my specialist. Part of ADHD is having a natural ebb and flow between inattention and hyperactivity, sometimes skewed toward one or the other, depending on your ADHD type. (What are the different types of ADHD?)

Your type of ADHD may also fluctuate because of other factors, such as stress, changes in medication, hormonal fluctuations, lack of sleep, overstimulation, or even under-stimulation, to name a few. Another overlooked part of ADHD is emotional dysregulation, which may cause rapid cycling emotions that may look like an “episode” to someone unfamiliar with what that actually qualifies. The way my therapist explained it and using your example of bipolar disorder, “episode” is used in diagnostic criteria to categorize manic or depressive episodes that last X amount of time, are usually severe, potentially requiring hospitalization, and are accompanied by other symptoms not found in ADHD.

Our “bursts” of energy or lack thereof typically don’t last long enough to be considered episodes. This isn’t to say they are not severe or debilitating, especially if you suffer from things like anxiety or depression that ADHD can feed into. Merely that “episode” is not used as part of the language used to discuss ADHD, which is likely why you’re not finding anything.

So, do ADHDers experience intense bursts of energy that are draining afterward? Yeah, we can do, especially if we lean more toward hyperactive than inattentive. (And again, it's normal to fluctuate and also for things to be affected or worsened by secondary factors.)

And I'm going to put the rest under the cut because this is hella long.

I’ve seen some people think that all hyperactivity has to come with fixation, but that’s not how ADHD works. It’s true if something gets us excited or gives us a dopamine boost, we might be more prone to becoming hyperfixated and burn all our energy up on that. But you don’t need something to fixate on to experience hyperactivity. Some of us are just wired to the moon sometimes, and yes, it can be very draining when it ends. Some people find medication helpful in regulating their hyperactivity/preventing it from coming in such big swings and dips.

Speaking personally, when I'm hyper and nothing is grabbing my attention, the world and people around me can feel painfully slow. It's like I'm going a mile a minute doing everything but achieving nothing. The crash that comes after can also be particularly bad, as I also have dysthymia, which can tip over into a major depressive episode depending on other factors in my life at that time. For years I was misdiagnosed as having "probably Bipolar Type II" by a doctor who didn't believe teenage girls could "get" ADHD* and convinced my parents I needed psychoactive drugs. The drugs I was on didn't help, in fact, they made me worse so I was taken off them.

It wasn't until I found an ADHD specialist as an adult a few years ago that I made any real progress. And I'll be honest, I was shocked when she diagnosed me with ADHD, I really didn't think I had it. Right up until we started doing the work and slowly but surely my mental health began to improve and my understanding of myself with it.

Sometimes there are days when I will be wired to the moon and it will derail my entire day because I can't focus on a single thing/I'll focus too much on a single thing. Other times, like when I am closer to my menstrual cycle, I'll crash into inattentiveness and depression because of how my hormones affect my various different conditions, including my ADHD. Medication would likely help with this, but due to medical reasons, that's currently not an option for me so I do the best I can.

That said, if you’re experiencing something more than hyperactivity but it's not mania, you may be experiencing a form of hypomania and you should talk to a doctor about your concerns.

Hypomania typically occurs in Bipolar Type II disorder, which is less severe than the manic episodes in Bipolar I. I’ve experienced both manic and hypomanic episodes in my life due to medication interactions, and they felt very different from ADHD hyperactivity. It's not just derailing mile-a-minute thoughts, it's something usually completely mood-altering and out of control feeling followed by devastating crashes.

If you're on any medications and are worried you are experiencing something like this, you need to talk to your doctor. You might just need a dosage tweak, or you might be better off on a different medication altogether. Also, make a thorough check of any and all medications you are taking to check for any interactions.

I'm on a cocktail of meds for my MCAS, which if I were to combine them with the SSRI one of my doctors wants me to try, would result in serotonin syndrome. The doctor didn't notice this, but the pharmacist sure as shit did!

Some people (ask me how I know) even develop mild hypomania from overusing the sunlamps used to treat SAD (link), which is why brands like Verilux now include warnings in their leaflets about not using the lamps for more than X amount of time a day. Thankfully it goes away once you stop overusing the lamps.

Which actually brings me to something you asked last time about being unable to sleep at night. Insomnia and delayed sleep phase cycles are not uncommon in ADHD. This is likely because our circadian rhythm is thought to be out of whack (link).

You also mentioned having racing thoughts at night too, which is not uncommon either with hyperactivity. I find if I get overstimulated before trying to sleep, I’ll end up lying there awake with what I like to call “radio ADHD” playing in my head. It can range from snippets of songs stuck on repeat, conversations, things I’ve watched on TV, arguments, or if something is happening the next day, fixating on not being late for it. Hence, I end up getting no sleep because you can’t accidentally sleep in if you don’t sleep. *jazz hands of despair.*

Sometimes I find Radio ADHD soothing if it’s fixating on something chill, but it can get annoying fast and even distressing if I’m tired and can’t “change the station.” (I’d say “shut it off,” but as of yet, I’ve never been able to do that. Medication helps some people with this, as can looking into “sleep hygiene” if you haven’t already.) Conversely, if I’m bored or something is too stressful, I will 100% fall asleep because my brain would literally rather just turn off than do something I don’t want to do or is a low dopamine reward task.

Brains are fun.

Anyway, I uh, I am not sure if any of this is useful to you, but I hope it helps. Mostly I'm just repeating back what my specialist said when I asked her about it lol. Good luck, and I hope you figure things out.

----

*NB: It's important to note that ADHD and Bipolar Disorder can be comorbid. It's not a one or the other situation. I’m just throwing it out there in case hearing that helps someone else pursue the proper diagnosis!

[vampelune]

kamukomahina gender/body headcanons

a bit of a ramble about my body, gender, and general appearance headcanons for them bcuz someone sent me a curiouscat prompting this 3k words of hyperfixation nonsense

Komaeda:

- He has a naturally lithe body, with a thin waist, broad shoulders and hips, which give him an hourglass. and a rather andrognyous body, which is "lucky" for him, because I hc him as nonbinary and gender non-conforming

- Gender-wise, as I said, I think he's nonbinary. Usually I do view Nagito as AMAB but I indulge in transmasc Nagito from time to time depending on my preference and how much I wish to uh, well, project, lol. But either way I think he would use he/they pronouns in a western sense. In japanese, however, they don't use third person pronouns that other people refer to them with, and in canon he uses the first person pronoun "boku", which is a "soft" masculine pronoun, in comparison to the "hard" masculine pronoun, “ore” (which Hajime uses btw!) which fits quite nicely, in my opinion! Also, in Japanese, you can be 'fluid' with your first person pronouns depending on the situation, so I think he could use more neutral or feminine pronouns should he desire it, too, to play on his gender non-conformity.

- Komaeda is very secure in his gender, regardless of being AMAB or AFAB. He does not care about stigma, or discrimination, he does not care about being "accepted" by broader society. Broader society is sort of meaningless to him, the average person and their ideas about gender and presentation and effeminity mean NOTHING to him. Whether or not a random person the street genders him correctly or treats him with respect is sort of, pointless? Because to him, most ordinary people are pointless nobodies. Their thoughts do not matter to him. I think he is still prone to insecurity, however, when around his "betters" but I just struggle to think he would degrade himself in regards to gender. to him, it's the least of his problems. what he cares about is hope and talent. He could dress femininely or wear makeup or straight up crossdress and not mind it, really. He thinks people would find a problem with it are the problem, because why does it even matter? It speaks to the way Komaeda is detached from societal norms & "normal" people, he did not grow up in normal circumstances, so he doesn't interact with the world normally by any means. he can mask and act normally to the best of his ability, often unintentionally?, but he simply does not fit into broader society and doesn't seek to.

- Komaeda loses weight really easily, and doesn't gain weight that well. This is mainly due to his many illnesses but also the medications he's been put on. He has a low appetite and burns weight rather easily, even though I headcanon that he eats like garbage (mainly junk food & takeout, since he obviously cannot cook). This makes him overall, health wise, not very healthy, and stick thin because of it. A stiff breeze could knock him over, tbh.

- He has a lot of faded scars, self-inflicted or not.

- Pre-despair (in HPA) he is fairly healthy but still lithe, and progressively his body deteriorates through his 2 years of hopes peak before the Tragedy begins.

- During the Tragedy itself, his body is at it's worst. he is almost nothing but bone at times, barely kept together by a need to live so he can see hope triumph. His weight fluctuates but he's very unhealthy. He's not anorexic or on death's door, but he's not well off, either.

- After being put into the neo world program, right after waking up, he's very, very thin and gaunt. he was in a pod on feeding tubs for an indiscernible but at least probably a month's worth of time? So he's just very weak, like he could collapse if he moves too quickly.

- But a while after waking, he goes into remission, and starts to gain more healthy habits due to being rehabilitated and cared for by Hinata, and gains some weight, finally at a healthy, normal weight. I still think he would struggle with putting on too much weight, but I am slightly fond of the idea that he gets a bit of healthy pudge after a while. To him, it's so foreign being healthy, that he honestly think something's wrong with him at first.

Hinata:

- Hinata has a very... average body, true to form. His hips and waist aren't too pronounced but he has a loosely "hourglass" shape, too, just not as exaggerated as Komaeda's in comparison.

- Gender-wise, I am EXTREMELY fond of transmasc Hinata. While I think I portray AMAB Hinata more than transmasc Hinata (in art and writing), I still firmly prefer transmasc Hinata. The reason I think portray otherwise more is just out of comfortability, but I've been getting better at comfortably portraying FTM Hinata. I have some reasons I prefer it and think you can extrapolate it from canon, but let's get into that

- Hinata, in my eyes, has an arc and story that fits perfectly into him just. Being trans. His desire to be someone else, someone better, someone he can proud of, and the way he overcompensates for himself and has an extreme inferiority complex would easily lend to him having similar feelings about his gender. To me, Hinata is a trans man who overperforms his masculinity out of insecurity and a need to pass. I see him as someone who would strictly use "he/him" in a western sense, which is lended to by his use of the "ore" pronoun in canon, which is almost hypermasculine.

- Even if he were AMAB, I think it still works, I think he's still someone who's insecure and tries to assert himself more strongly and therefore performs masculinity in a way to appear more confident than he is.

(side note: I actually read a bit about queerness in Japan and how it relates to gender performance and the use of pronouns, and read a bit about how queer women in japan tend to use "boku" and "ore" to perform masculinity, which I find neat. “Ore” was also sometimes used exclusively to show anger and dominance, which is why it's categorized as a "rough" pronoun. I think Japanese language, gender, and expression, and how those all relate to one another, are extremely interesting and if you get the time you should read about it lol)

- Body-wise, pre-despair, I think Hinata would. not have top surgery, obviously. I think he has a fairly average but leaning a little on the hefty side chest (pre-op) and binds it, hence the '91 cm' (but also he still has 91 cm post-op because bazongas). I also just think he leans on the "twunk" side of things at this point, not buff but not stick thin or without muscle, just kind of average with average strength and all, though I think Hinata would've tried to do sports and stuff to find his talent so he's in shape :)

- My personal, kind of amusing, but also kind of... thematical? Headcanon, is that during the Kamukura project, he also underwent gender transition. to be honest, while it may not make sense in modern Japan, I think we can suspend our disbelief for fiction, and also make the argument that Hinata's "transition" into Kamukura CAN be read, in some part, as relatable or at least familiar to the trans experience. Iit is not out of the realm of possibility, either, to assume that because many bits of society in Danganronpa are advanced (specifically science, is extremely ahead of our understanding, almost sci-fi like at times) certain attitudes about gender and sexuality can be smoothed over more in a Japanese context.

(side note: I also think that science-wise, we can suspend our disbelief, and assume that top surgery and bottom surgery are much more advanced in this universe, given the almost unbelievable levels of science in Danganronpa, such as memory wipe, mind control, completely realistic virtual simulation, um literally everything about Kamukura which is body modification and brain modification to an extreme, etc. I think it's kind of fitting within these to assume that... Hinata/Kamukura could just, gain a functioning penis, lol)

Kamukura:

- Kamukura would have a. "Perfect" body. it's stated, I'm pretty sure, that they modified not only his brain but his body, because he needs to be able to perform every talent under their belt with ease, and his strength, instincts, technique, are all superhuman. So it's clear to me he'd have a buff body. toned muscles and all. He wouldn't really feel a need to keep it up, though, but I think since they're very... artificial (basically fucking steroids?) they wouldn't fade from a lack of keep-up.

- Kamukura also rarely ever is injured, but when he does, his body heals rather fast and can care for himself adequately, because again, his body is modified to a point of almost inhumanity.

- Gender wise, Kamukura genuinely does not care. however, I am not one to think that Kamukura is "a different person" from Hinata, rather, he is separate from Hinata, but an extension of Hinata as well, proven that he experiences some of his emotions even if subconsciously and without understanding them. he isn't a different personality or person developed in Hinata's body, but a very traumatizing, repressed, and manipulated version of Hinata given a new name, with memories repressed. He's like Theseus's ship in human form---if you get rid of everything that makes someone themselves and replace it, bit by bit, is it the same person? Technically, yes, but... truly? Who knows. 

Because of this, I think Kamukura would have a leaning toward masculine gender performance (in canon, in fact, he uses the soft masculine pronoun "boku" in stead of "ore" like Hinata) BUT I think he is still very nonbinary. In a western sense, i think he would use he/they pronouns, but not really care if someone mistook him for a woman, I suppose.

- His appearance, unironically, is very nonbinary or "he/they" to me because he's wearing a suit, the archetypal form of masculinity, but has extremely long hair, which is considered feminine, and speaks softly (dully). Of course, the bishounen "pretty boy" appearance isn't uncommon or considered less masculine in japan, I think, but there is still a different between soft masculinity and rough masculinity in japan, which lends itself to being interpreted sort of gender non-conforming by western audiences :)

- Kamukura, due to his apathy, struggles with self-maintaining, but as we all probably know i am extremely attached to KamuKoma and thus headcanon that Servant helps him, sort of like a royal servant would royalty in the old days, take care of himself by bathing him, brushing his hair out, grooming him, etc. partially out of duty, partially out of appreciation for Kamukura's body, and partially out of maintaining his sort of "perfect" look since Kamukura, especially post-Junko death, is perceived widely by the public as the new leader of the ultimate despair, even if he is ambivalent to such a title.

Post-DR3 Hinata/Kamukura combined:

As I rambled on about previously, I don't think that Kamukura and Hinata are separate people or personality, I really dislike the interpretation that they are like a "split personality" or operate like DID, because they do not "form" like DID, but also in canon, are not portrayed as separate people.

In post-dr3, Hinata instead says that he is both of them, because he is. Kamukura is Hinata, always was, but had been given a new, false identity, had been stripped of his previous self, his memories, his personality, and crafted into something new. but that did not "split" his brain into two people. It simply repressed who he once was, and made him someone he now was. But when Kamukura regains his memories, his past self, through the means of the new world program by restoring his own memories after SDR2 concludes and he wakes up, as well as doing the same for everyone else, he decides to be "Hajime Hinata" who he always was, but carrying and shouldering the weight of what "Izuru Kamukura" had been, become, and done. Hinata *is* Kamukura, he answers for Kamukura's wrongdoings, his crimes, as something he had done as a different person who's mind operated differently, due to being artificially suppressed, modified, into an apathetic tool for the scientists who made him, and later and aimless, bored individual who simply sought meaning he did not have in the unknown of what despair would be at it's climax. And if hope could overcome it.

As such, I think, when Hinata's self is brought back into the mix, and he now deals with Kamukura's apathy and boredom in part, but much less consuming and much less often, I think hinata is less staunchly "masculine", does not overperform it anymore, and is trying to understand what his past means to him, what his present is, and what his future will be. I think that Hinata would still primarily use he/him (or still use "ore" in Japanese, as it's also a means of his personality, which is a bit rough around the edges and blunt), but be more ambivalent to rigid gender expression, still finding comfort and idealness in masculinity, but not be made dysphoric or feel frightened, uncomfortable, with non-comformity or anything like that. being boyish, masculine, is what he enjoys, but he's comfortable in it now, doesn't need to prove himself or overperform it. He can explore nonconformity without feeling like his gender or masculinity is at threat, even if it's not his preference outright.

Body-wise, I think it's safe to say he retains Kamukura's muscle and all, but Kamukura didn't put much effort into the everyday machinations of being a human being in general, and Hinata is much more fond of food than him now, eats more often, and I enjoy the idea that he gains a little pudge and has a kind of "dad bod" almost, post-DR3? lol.

Both for Hinata and Kamukura I don't see their bodies as “bara” or overly buff, masculine, but a kind of comfortable middle ground between twunk and hunk, lmao. I think they're also averagely hairy, not overly so, very lightly. kind of well groomed, and all. Hinata, pre-despair, put not so much effort into his appearance but still some, especially in trying to pass. (In fact I think his hair cut looks like a home job, all choppy and stuff, which fits him in my opinion, something done by his own hands even if messy and imperfect, he still prefers to be in control of it. also fits the trans headcanon tehe).

Izuru put very little if any effort into himself, only the bare minimum necessary to function, but servant helped him upkeep it to a perfect standard. Hinata, post-dr3 now, finds himself putting you know, an average amount of care into himself and his body, enough to be healthy, but not overly critical and conscious of himself.

Komaeda i have always seen as someone who takes a good deal of care about himself, merely if to alleviate the "disgust" of his appearance and body, by practically preening himself. He is someone who is good at cleaning and seems to appreciate clean and well kept spaces, so I think he would have a similar attitude toward himself. even if he is insecure, and of course, struggles with mental health and may slip at times in his routine in keeping himself well-kept, I think he still maintains an appearance for the most part, at least in his later years (teen to young adult). An argument can be made that he cared less in his adolescence because he had much more apathy about the world, but when he gave himself a purpose with hope and talent, I think he would care for himself a little better, even if his was spiralling mentally.

His hair is always washed, it is just very curly and prone to mess, so it often looks like perpetual bedhead, even when he combs and brushes it. His skin is soft even if a little worn by his tendency for accidents & injury, it's still soft and almost luckily so, and he takes pride in moisturizing and cleaning himself. His skin is a little sickly, still, and I think that despite having blemishes, scars, etc. Komaeda manages to look pretty in a strange way, not conventionally beautiful, but almost ethereal? He's just *pretty*, there's no way to explain it, he is nice to look at even with all his "flaws" and imperfections. Even when he's sickly and bony, even when his cheeks are gaunt or his hands shaky and weak, when his hair is a tangled mess or his clothes are dirty, he's nice to look at in a way that's nonconventional, and it's sort of mesmerizing.

Hinata I think is very average but also in a way that's nice to look at it. He's not ground-breaking hot or conventionally attractive, he has a good body, a nice face, and hair you could play with a little if you wanted. I think what's appealing about him is his normalcy, he's not trying too hard or "gifted" gene wise, but he's just kinda nice to look at, he's enjoyable to be around, an understanding person, or at least tries to be even when he fails, and despite having flaws, insecurities, blunt, he is someone you're drawn to because he's one of those people that's just, easy to talk to? An emotional anchor, almost. The kind of guy everyone kind of knows and has talked to at least once, even if you're not friends with him personally, not because he's cool or popular or anything, but because he's a normal dude who's easy to trust and talk to.

Kamukura, on the other hand, is intimidating, appearance wise and personality wise. he looks, strange, anything but normal, his eyes are red and his hair is this dark cloud that envelops him. His face may still be that plain one Hinata has but faces can be changed by the surrounding attributes as well as expression and such is true for him, with his apathetic and cold expression as well as otherwordly characteristics, he comes off as much more beautiful in a dark way, kind of? In a way that's intimidating or a little daunting, but he's still very beautiful. mesmerizing.

okay, thats my ramble. ty.

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

The Sommelier (Hannigram x Female!Reader) pt. 15

Hannibal gives y/n an idea and y/n negotiates.

@viviace @deadman-inc-bikeshop @dovahdokren

Trigger warnings: graphic descriptions of violence

Aftercare was Hannibal's favorite part of the evening. He loved to spend long, indulgent hours pampering his darlings. But usually, there was only one. And that was Will. And Hannibal's clawfoot bathtub, although beautiful, was not big enough for both of you at the same time. Meaning, you had to take turns.

You and Will argued back and forth about who was in more desperate need of aftercare; each advocating for the other, of course. That was Hannibal's fault, really. He should have known better than to ask you to make a decision.

Hannibal emerged from the bathroom, sleeves rolled up and arms soaked to the elbow. "Who is first?"

Before you could speak, Will shoved you forward. "She is."

Hannibal knew better than to let the argument go on, and so did you. You followed him into the bathroom, the smell of lavender bath salts filling the air.

He removed your fluffy robe and watched you step into the warm bath. The water was just hot enough to soothe the aches in your muscles. Hannibal took his seat at the end of the tub where you rested your head. You leaned back and submerged your whole body. 

“You have such soft hair.” Hannibal said, pouring a bit of expensive-smelling shampoo in his palm. 

“Thanks, I use fabric softener and tumble dry it on low heat.” You answered. 

“You have a hard time accepting compliments, don’t you?” He probed, beginning to lather the shampoo into your hair. “Between that and the self-deprecation, I’d say you suffer from low self-esteem.” 

You felt yourself melting into him. The hypnotic motions of his hands chipped away at your defenses. “Is that really that surprising?” 

“For such an intelligent, sophisticated young beauty?” Hannibal chuckled. “I am surprised you don’t understand your worth.” 

“If it makes you feel any better,” You offered. “The fact that a psychotic cokehead fundamentalist Christian cult leader wants me dead tells me I’m doing something right.” 

“You are a force of nature, my indulgence.” Hannibal assured you, still massaging your head. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. You already know your power.” 

That got you thinking. Would it be so bad to just find a hunting rifle and blow Chase Mulvaney’s head off? What was stopping you? It certainly wasn’t your conscious. All your remaining moral fiber had been ripped to shreds over the course of the last month. 

“Tell me something about yourself, Hannibal.” You said, leaning back.

“What would you like to know?” He asked, retracting his hands. He cupped his hands in the water and poured some over your hair. 

“Do you ever think about morality?” You said, bluntly. 

The question pleasantly surprised him. “Quite a bit, actually. I like to think of myself as a student of philosophy, which deals heavily with the subject of ethics, human behavior, and yes, morality.” 

“Do you believe morality is subjective?” you tilted your head. 

“There’s not a doubt in my mind about it.” Hannibal smiled. “Those who think otherwise usually exemplify some of the best arguments for subjective morality.” 

“Religious nuts like Chase Mulvaney.” You said. “He and millions of others believe in objective morality, but can’t even keep it consistent among themselves.” 

“Darling,” Hannibal whispered. “You don’t have to wait for aftercare to talk philosophy with me. I would be happy to do so anytime.” 

You spent a half hour in the bath, Hannibal stroking, kissing and cuddling you. As much as you wanted to enjoy the affection, your mind was elsewhere. Perhaps it was just a hyperfixation, or post-multiple-orgasm clarity, but the only thought in your head was that Chase Mulvaney had to die. 

Your train of thought was chugging along smoothly until it was derailed by the violent buzzing of your phone against the tile floor. You leaned over the side of the tub, trying to make out the contact name from across the room. 

Hannibal dried his hands on a nearby towel and picked the phone up from the ground. 

“Who is it?” You asked. 

“This number is logged into your phone as just a picture of a...red demon?” Hannibal answered. 

“Oh, yeah.” You dropped your head. “I’ll call her back, just let it ring out.” 

“Who’s the demon?” Hannibal chuckled. 

You stepped out of the bathtub and reached for a towel. “Just somebody I know from work. Probably calling about covering a shift or something.” 

“Would that be the same person who believed I was the devil?” Hannibal raised an eyebrow, watching you wrap the towel around yourself.

You were about to say yes, but caught yourself. “No. Just some lady I work with who always refused to share her tips with the buses. Super entitled, total pain in the ass. I’ve been looking for an excuse to tell her off.” 

“Well, we can’t keep you from that, now can we.” Hannibal cupped your cheek in his hand and looked at your face admiringly. “There should be a clean nightgown for you on the bed. Please tell Will I’ll be ready for him in a couple minutes.” 

“Wow, you really did think of everything.” You rocked back on your heels and swung to your tip toes to give him a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll let him know.” 

He kissed you back. “Thank you, my indulgence.” 

“Just one more thing.” You stopped in the threshold. “Could I please use your computer?” 

“I don’t see why not.” Hannibal looked up from the quickly draining tub. “By all means, what’s mine is yours.” 

You smiled and blew him a kiss before absconding into the bedroom. 

The nightgown he’d laid out for you had far more ruffles and lace than you’d consider appropriate for sleepwear, but it was comfortable and fit you well. 

You passed the message along to Will, but hurriedly. You were in a rush to be alone. You had some business to attend to.

You sat at Hannibal's desk, turned on his lamp and logged into your google drive on his computer. While you waited for the content to fully load, you scrolled through your contacts. When you found the demon, you pressed the green dial button.

It didn't take her long to pick up. "[F/N]! Finally, I've been trying to call you all night."

"Yeah, I know." You rolled your eyes. "Some of us have lives to live. Not that you'd know anything about that."

"No need to be snippy." She scolded. "I have an offer for you."

"If it doesn't involve a portion of ad revenue, I'm not interested." You shook your head. "I'm not settling for a flat fee while you make the real money off my experience. My goddamn trauma."

"Sounds like we woke up and chose bitchy today." She teased. "You're not even going to hear me out?"

"Freddie," you began, pulling up a document on the computer. "I happen to have a four-page, comprehensive statement of what happened that night right here. Half of it was cut out for the FBI report."

You could practically hear Freddie drooling already. "And?"

"I won't accept anything under $1200 for it." You finished. "Or 30% of all ad revenue on this article."

"That's not fair." She protested. "Best I can do is $750."

"You made ten times that off my first article." You leaned back in the chair. "Don't try to lowball me, Lounds, I can do this all night."

"Since when were you the assertive type?" She asked, deflecting the conversation.

"Remember when you told me my fifteen minutes of fame was running out and you were my only option to get my story out there?" You recalled.

"At the time, I was right." Freddie contested.

"That was before Chase went from a cokehead to a domestic terrorist." You said. "Now I actually can take it to a more reputable outlet."

"But here you are anyway." She said. "Extorting a small, woman-owned independent news site just for the hell of it. I've got bills to pay, y'know."

"With gaslighting like that, I'm sure they're astronomical." You rolled your eyes. Sighing, you propped your knees against the desk. "Look, I don't hate you, Freddie."

"I don't hate you either." She agreed. "I thought trashing each other was just our mutual love language."

"The only reason I'm considering TattleCrime at all is you." You admitted. "You're loud and unapologetic and it makes people listen to you. I need someone who can take the heat."

"Because you know that mainstream news outlets are going to cut your writing down to maintain the status quo." Freddie finished your thought.

You pursed your lips. "Exactly. You're the only one who's got the cajones to run the whole story."

"I'm flattered." She said, then paused. "If I move some things around, I can probably get you $1000."

You opened a new tab and typed some words into the search bar. You scrolled through the results, leaving Freddie without an answer.

"Hello?" She said. "[F/N]? Did I lose you?"

"How soon can you pay?" You asked.

Your phone buzzed. You had a notification from paypal. A thousand dollars from Fredrica Lounds.

"Right fucking now." She answered.

"You've got yourself a deal." You said, firmly. You typed out Freddie's email address and pushed send. "It's all yours."

[bunnykawa]

hungry (osamu miya x f. reader)

summary: You have a big crush on the handsome owner of an onigiri shop. He thinks it’s annoying. Or does he?

a/n: eh idk what this is. timeskip love haha. but this might be a triggering so please keep that in mind and read the warnings

warnings: 18+, yandere themes, noncon/dubcon/rape, raw sex, kinda public sex?, some degradation, little bit of spanking and hairpulling, abusive language, violence, stalking, mentions of past sexual abuse, you vomit but it's not sexualized it's trauma-induced, timeskip!osamu :)

The energy of the restaurant is oddly calm tonight. Nights are almost never tranquil at Onigiri Miya with the constant parade of people coming in, so you hum in satisfaction when you scan the restaurant and there's barely anyone here. You stare down at your half-eaten onigiri and the loyalty stamp card that you filled up from how often you come here. After nine visits, you get a free onigiri on your tenth one as long as you show them your stamp card. 

This is your hundredth visit—you remember because the first time you entered Onigiri Miya was ten stamp cards ago. The staff already know your name, if not by your face and your timid behavior that makes you stutter when ordering the same thing every time they see you. As peculiar as they think you are (for coming to Onigiri Miya at the same time on Fridays and Saturdays for the past six months and sitting alone quietly until they close), they warmly welcome you.

It's only you in the dining area tonight. The few employees that Onigri Miya has must have left earlier than usual. You suddenly tense up in your seat and grip onto your cup of freshly-poured hot tea tightly between tremulous fingers. The familiar male figure, standing at over six feet tall with beautiful broad shoulders, passes by the front counter, disappearing as he makes his way to the back. 

After you let out a harsh breath, you adjust your phone from behind your purse on the table. Your phone is propped up behind it, the camera lens slightly peeking over the faux leather. Butterflies form in your stomach when you see that you were still recording and you caught him on camera. 

Yes, you go to Onigiri Miya because the food is amazing. Somehow, they make a dish as simple as a rice ball so delectable and appetizing and you adore them because of it. But hyperfixation is a fucking bitch, your thought process is a little flawed, and the real reason why you frequent the establishment is because Osamu Miya is absolutely gorgeous. Every time you see him, you're left wondering what it would be like to run your fingers through his dark hair or how his lips feel pressed against yours. Your thoughts run wild. How does he like his eggs in the morning? What's his family like? Does he sleep on the right side of the bed? Left side? In the middle? Does he have space for you on his bed? 

How does it feel to be loved by Osamu Miya?

Every time you visit the restaurant, visibly nervous with anxiety beating in your chest and your throat closing as you try to speak, you feel that you're one step close to finding out. And maybe you did feel it once. Just once. You're unsure if that one special moment you shared with Osamu was genuine from his heart with good intentions, but you would do anything for that feeling to last forever. And if that made your whole being feel as if you were floating, then why wouldn't it be the same for him?

So, that's why you're here. To relive that special moment in the way that you fantasized about—something that can become a fond memory instead of a dream deep inside your head that leaves you yearning for physicality. Desire is the only sensation that you've felt for the past six months and it's torture to watch the man that you've fallen in love with barely acknowledge you as a person even if he's seen your face in his restaurant consistently every week since you first met. Since he saved you. 

Six months later. Six months to move on. Six months to get help and yet you're still digging your hands into your panties and biting onto your sheets to gag yourself because of one man after every visit to his restaurant.

"Hey."

Oh, that voice makes your thighs tremble every time you hear it. As stoic and impassive as it is, it's the same voice that gave you solace when you were beaten down in the dark to bleed on concrete. You're gritting your teeth—nearly moaning at the sweet sound—as that voice almost breaks you out of your thoughts. Almost. 

"(Y/N), are you okay?" Osamu asks in a deadpan tone from his place behind the counter. You jolt suddenly. For someone who's so obsessive with small details, you sure don't pay much attention to your surroundings. You quickly shake your head when you realize that he's talking to you. 

"Y-yes. I'm...I'm fine, O...samu," you squeak in embarrassment. You don't realize it, but you're clutching onto your stamp card with white knuckles. His gray hooded eyes seem to be staring right through you, as if he knows why you're here tonight, what you're looking for. But whatever he does notice, he doesn't mention. His eyes dart down to your purse before he maintains eye contact with you. 

He places his hand on the counter to lean on it. The small action makes your mouth dry. He's so fucking beautiful. "It's almost ten-o'clock. I'm gonna close up. You should leave soon." 

But you don't want to leave yet. Tonight was supposed to be the night that you finally made your dreams come true. It's only him and you in the restaurant tonight, so it must mean something.

"Where...where's the rest of the c-crew?" you ask shakily. Fuck, get yourself together. You just need an excuse not to leave. And he might know your name, but he doesn't know you. Not yet.

He raises a thick eyebrow at your question before answering, "Left early tonight. Just me taking care of the shop." You should have noticed. This is why you leave your phone recording while you're there—you don't want to miss anything in case you get distracted.

But does he want you to leave? Your heart aches at the thought of him not wanting your presence when you've been craving his for so long. "I see," you mutter awkwardly.

What do I do now?

"You've got a lot of nerve, you know that?" he says after a few seconds of awkward silence. You haven't moved from your seat and neither has Osamu moved from his spot to "close up" as he said he would. You wonder if the door is already locked.

"What do you mean?" Your heart is thumping more now than it has in the past three hours you've been here. Osamu lives in your brain rent-free yet you can barely breathe around him. Now he's speaking to you. Actually speaking to you.

"You know exactly what I mean," he calmly accuses you. The unexpected shift in his tone makes your blood run cold. "Wonder if your phone has run out of storage yet. Funny you go out of your way to come here twice a week just to record me."

"What?!" you cry out, suddenly shooting up from your seat. Your chair skids a few inches across the floor behind you before it tilts and hits the ground with a crash. The quick movement causes the table in front of you to shake and make your phone to fall back as well, the screen smashing against the wood and the camera lens facing up towards the ceiling. You feel like you're about to have a heart attack. Your vision goes blurry from tears suddenly threatening to overflow because were you that obvious?

"I noticed. A long time ago. Remember you from that night back in the alley. Very unique face you got there," Osamu hums. He steps around the counter to make his way towards you. You cower into the wall beside your table, your eyes darting from your phone and Osamu's threatening figure.

Back in the alley. The image of the back alley behind Onigiri Miya flashes in your mind. Dark, wet, and sadly gray. That's where you first met him.

"Didn't expect to see you back here. Thought you might've developed PTSD or something with how you were crying. Now you're stalking me." 

"No," you loudly plead, shaking your head side to side, "I don't know what you're talking about!" You're lying straight through your teeth. That's funny—you've been coming to his restaurant for a chance to see him again, but he's coming closer and closer and you're terrified instead of happy. Your knees buckle as you press your back against the wall. You squeeze your eyes shut as the memories come flooding back into your system in vivid detail. 

He continues on, "Don't even lie to me. Stalking me like a crazy bitch. I wasn't sure what I should do about you. I felt bad for you and let you continue doing this, even thought about calling the police for a little bit, but…"

Osamu almost never talks to you, maybe a few times where he's handling the register and the orders and he has to talk to you, but he's always in the open kitchen where you can freely admire him when you want to, always an arm's length away. When you would think about what your first conversation together would be like, you always imagined his words to be kind. Sweet. Maybe he'd say he admired you—

"...you're a little fucked up in the head, huh?" 

His tone is hostile. There's no love laced in any of the syllables falling from his tongue. He's annoyed. He hates the fact that you want him—it's that obvious but you don't want to believe it, especially when you think you worked so hard. It's not fair.

Your mind is hazy as he's coming closer and closer to your trembling form. You see his lips moving and the calm expression on his face turn into hard evil, but your ears can't decipher what he's saying. His words have faded into white noise. And you've seen him multiple times, traced his face through the screen of your phone, admired him from afar at the same spot in his restaurant for months, but his face is sharper, harsher, and almost unrecognizable. Is this really the man that saved you? Is this really Osamu Miya?

Your blood is pumping loudly in your ears. It's the only sound that you can make out other than your heavy breathing. God, if he gets any closer...

Then, the adrenaline kicks in and you're lunging at him with your arms outstretched towards his large frame. You don't know what you're going to do and sure as hell you're no match for him, but your body is screaming at you. Your senses are running wild, like the aura that Osamu is emitting is lighting you on fire and making you act on primal instinct. It's telling you to fight. 

To fight him. To bash your tiny fists against his handsome face because he should have fallen in love with you the moment that you fell in love with him, but he has the audacity to leave you hanging for half a year and call you a stalker.

And it's painful. You're not sure which hurts more, but at this moment, the physical pain is excruciating. You can't breathe anymore, not when his calloused hands (from years of training on the court, which you found out from the internet, and in the kitchen) are wrapped around your throat. You can't think straight either—your head hit the ground a little too hard and the world is spinning. Osamu's face is contorted in anger and even if your world is spinning, his features are as clear as day. 

Your memories start crashing down inside your brain in fragments. The pain, frustration, and sadness hit you all at once—it’s nauseating. It’s as if Osamu can sense this, too, because as soon as he notices your sick expression, he flips you over to force you on your knees with one arm around your waist, his hand in your scalp to hold your head in place towards the floor and then you’re heaving and gagging out the rice balls you consumed earlier. Your throat is on fire and you're still coughing up pieces of rice.

“You gross bitch,” he mutters.

You gross bitch.

It's bouncing around in your ear drum until it fades into cotton, a familiar set of words that cut you deep that you were able to pick up on easily among the other curses he's been throwing at you. The same words from six months ago. A trigger? Yeah, that's what the internet calls it. You almost died, or at least that's what it felt like. That's the only way you can describe it, the only way you were able to make sense of what happened, because you feel that you might as well have. 

It was from someone else's mouth—a disgusting, grimy man whose face haunted your dreams for months, a man with greasy fingers that put his hands on you, who beat you until you were nearly unconscious with blood dripping down your chin, who ripped you away of your pride and worth until you were nothing. The concrete was wet and cold, scraping against your sensitive skin and breaking through layers as he rutted into you. His breath fucking stunk and for fuck's sake, you don't know if you've seen anyone uglier, but as fucked up as it is, he made you feel ugly. 

You thought you saw an angel that day. The backdoor to Onigiri Miya opened up and when you finally opened your eyes and looked up, there he was—with blank gray eyes that stared down at the scene before him in slight disgust, and then he ripped the repulsive body off of your half-naked form. You were too weak. 

While you were weak and scared and incoherent, Osamu saw you and didn't hesitate to protect you. At the end of every dream you've had since then, Osamu always came to help you. 

And that should've been the end of it. That should've been the last time. You can't go through that again. No, no, no. You don't deserve to go through that again. 

You don't deserve it.

You don't deserve it.

You don't deserve it.

You're more responsive and awake once Osamu bends you over the table you were sitting at, then your senses are overloading, telling you to resist, to keep fighting. You're so tired, at this point you're completely heartbroken, but you can't—you can't just give up yet. He's holding you down, restraining your wrists with one hand while his other hand is at your waistband pulling your shorts down your thighs. You're kicking at him with whatever strength you have left even if the taste in your mouth is vile, he's much stronger than you, and your head is pounding from the anxiety. You're grateful that you can even breathe.

But it feels like your body has failed you, once again, and for a second you think that you do deserve it. The adrenaline is almost gone, you can barely lift a finger, you feel like passing out, and—fuck—you're so stupid, so dependent on one person to make you feel high. With Osamu...you don't even know what to think. The image you dreamed of is long gone. It's sad that reality can crash over you so easily and ruin everything. 

"Get off of me!" you scream. Over and over again. Until your voice cracks and your throat is on the brink of bleeding, coughing out your poor lungs. Until it's nothing but the essence of your torment. Your cup of tea, now warm, has spilled all over the table and is slowly seeping into your hair as your cheek rubs against the wood. And there's nothing else you can do, because Osamu is still behind you with your hands trapped by his. Your shorts and your panties are around your ankles. His jeans are unbuttoned and it's out. 

You don't want to fight anymore, you're fucking terrified. So terrified that you can't bring yourself to move. As soon as you stop fighting, his breathing becomes steady and he's using less force on you. Sobs rack through your body hysterically when you feel it.

It's throbbing against your thigh—warm, leaking precum, long, and thick. The skin-to-skin contact in such an intimate area is making the hairs on the back of your neck rise. That tiny voice inside of your head is telling you to look back at it to see if his dick matches the image you made up in your head. Is it exactly how you pictured it? Is it as pretty?

He's wiping his precum against your tense skin. When you flinch at the tip of his cock rubbing against you, he bites his lip and kneads one of your ass cheeks with his free hand, spreading your holes open and ever so gently brushing his thumb over your pussy. 

"You're...wet," he comments. You hear it. He dips his thumb between your folds and swipes it up and down and you hear the squelching of your cunt over your heavy breathing. That's—that's not right. No, you shouldn't be feeling this way. He pushes his thumb deeper into your cunt and slowly pulls it back out. You flinch and arch your back slightly at the sudden sensation, making you push your ass towards him. He lets out a breathy laugh at your reaction. 

His thumb disappears for a second but it's instantly replaced with his dick probing at your entrance. With a roll of his hips, he breaks through your squishy flesh with some difficulty. 

A loud yelp and a slurry of protests falls from your wet desperate lips. You wriggle your bottom, trying to create space between your two bodies, jerking away from him with whatever strength you have left. However, Osamu keeps going until he's completely bottomed out, filling you up until his tip is flush against your cervix. He lets go of your wrists so he could keep a firm grip on your hips instead. Whenever you moved, it burned.

Stop.

The stretch is unbearable—it's been half a year since you've had someone else inside you. The burn of having your hole forcefully split open wide again against your will has your head going delirious with so many mixed emotions. Fuck's sake, this isn't right and it's been heavily engraved in your brain for months that you have every right to fight back. Although you haven't been thinking straight for a long time, you're still lucid enough for your ears to work and soak up information like a sponge. He's moving, rutting his hips into your hot cunt cruelly. You can still fight him off, maybe you'd win if you tried again. 

But this is Osamu. Your heart fucking aches for him and you want to get away, but it's Osamu drilling into your heat and it's just not fair. It's not fair because your body is still responding to his malicious touch. It's not fair because even if it hurts—and fuck, it hurts so damn much—you're involuntarily grinding your ass into him. It's not fucking fair because you can't hate him.

Why is life never fair?

"No," you sob, "No, no, no. It hurts. It hurts. Please stop." Your hot tears are mixing with the puddle of tea that's pooling underneath your cheek and your tongue still tastes foul from your little episode. You’re scared you might start gagging again.

"Stop?" he muses, "Haven't you been loitering in my restaurant because you've been craving my cock? You wanted this for months and the one time I give it to you, you're telling me to stop?" Osamu slams into your poor little cunt despite your pained cries and babbling. Your pussy is clamping around him, your body trying to accommodate his length and girth breaking into you so suddenly.

"Osamu." His name would've tasted so good if the situation was different. Little did you know that you pushed him passed his breaking point a long time ago. But Osamu knew that you were beyond yours ever since he met you. If only you weren't so fucking weird, maybe then he would've pitied you—maybe he would've genuinely felt something for you. 

What a shame that you fell in love with a man who wouldn't be able to understand you. 

"I'm tired of you coming into my restaurant," he grunts, snapping his hips against yours roughly, "-and treating me like I'm some kind of animal. Do I look like a fucking animal to you?"

You choke, “No. You don’t—that’s not why—please. You don’t understand.” 

“Then tell me," he coaxes. But how do you tell him? Are you supposed to be honest? You're afraid that if you are honest, Osamu will treat you just as badly as he is now. It's also hard for you to collect your thoughts and find a sincere explanation that he could listen to—you're too focused on the many sensations pulsing through you. He raises a bulky arm only bring it down instantly to smack your ass with rough hands. The sudden impact forces you forward for a split second. Then he brings his hand down a few more times, until he's satisfied with the dark red hand print with tiny splotches dotted across your skin. 

Is this a punishment for everything that you've done within the last six months? Punishment for admiring him through sneaky videos and pictures? Punishment for thinking about him all the time? You feel like a criminal, caught red-handed and forced to go through torture and suffer for your ungodly sins. Each time he hits you, you're twitching from the painful sting and praying for forgiveness. 

"Stop it!" you beg through tears, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It hurts so much." Apologies start spilling from your sore throat impulsively. 

I'm sorry, Osamu. 

Please stop, Osamu.

It really hurts, Osamu.

But nothing that comes out of your mouth convinces him, and after awhile it's more like you're trying to convince yourself more. Suddenly the burning in your sensitive cunt is replaced with the inebriating desire and hunger for more friction between your two bodies and it leaves a shameful tint to bloom over you. You're salivating over his dick—you wanna see it so bad even if you're scared—and the guilt is eating at you on the inside. It feels good, actually enough to have you gripping onto the edge of the table and sucking Osamu into your cunt so that he doesn't pull back too far. 

"Don't tell me that it hurts," he groans, "Your pussy is creaming all over me. You can't lie to me anymore."

He's right. You're lying more to yourself than him, though. You don't tell him to stop anymore, settling with swear words and a chorus of Osamu! Osamu! Osamu! It's amazing, intoxicating, and it also makes you feel disgusting. The way his cock fills up your tight pussy perfectly and how his balls are consistently smacking your clit and stimulating it—you're drooling from the pleasure.

"Does it feel good?" he huffs, "Is this what you wanted? To be a cockwhore for me?" 

Your body betrays you and you're left moaning and crying at the same time with breathy words that Osamu can't decipher because you're a complete mess, but he swears he can hear you agree without hesitation. "Y-yes, fuck yes! Your cock is s-so amazing," you cry out, "Hurts so good, Osamu!"

It's not enough. Although you're gradually submitting to him, it's still not enough for the sadistic side of him. He wants to hear more of you, to push you until you're braindead and nothing more than a hole to stretch and tear apart just for the hell of it. He leans over you just to grab you by the disheveled hair on your scalp. Another scream leaves you as he pulls you up to be able to growl in your ear.

"Tell me everything, you whore," he breathes, softly yet maliciously. You try to answer him but the angle he has your neck at from the grip on your hair is choking you. 

"Why'd you keep coming here? Obsessive little bitch. Why're you still here?" It's like he's laughing in your face even if his voice and expression say otherwise. He's mocking your pain, making you relive your trauma as if it was all a fucking joke. As if you’re incapable of feeling pain.

This isn't even supposed to feel as good as it does, yet it does. The way he calls you an obsessive little bitch has your stomach doing flips and your cheeks to flush even more. Then you're confused. You're enjoying his cock forced inside you and it's damn confusing. 

Fuck, it’s enough to further damage your overstimulated psyche and turn you into someone you never thought you would be. An empty shell of the person you used to be because your body doesn’t even fucking feel like your body anymore. Nothing feels real anymore, like you're shifting through universes and living lifetimes but you're stuck in one place at the same time. Why do you always come back here? 

You turn your head to the side, enough for you to see his face. His eyebrows are furrowed, probably from concentration on your slick pussy, and then he notices you staring at him. You don't utter another word, you might just choke and spew if you even open your mouth to attempt to (and holy shit, you don't want to embarrass yourself anymore), but your eyes—they answer his question in heavy silence. It’s enough for him to understand and see right through you. Loud and clear although you don't speak. 

Because you saved me.

Your eyes roll into the back of your head as you let out another sob, but this cry is full of guilty pleasure instead with barely any tears. It has you nearly passing out and feeling sick to your stomach and just please—make it stop hurting. But it feels so damn good at the same time, to have the tip of his swelling cock kissing your cervix every time he slams into you, grinding his hips against your sweet cunt. Your body contracts violently as you release your liquids all around Osamu's cock, pushing your ass against his pelvis and knocking your empty tea cup and purse off the table. Intitially, the loud crash makes you jolt but it's nothing compared to how your orgasm crashing over you has you screaming and thrashing around pathetically. 

You're cumming. You're cumming. You can't believe you're fucking cumming. You've never felt this way before and you always believed that sex was painful but you're still cumming long and hard on Osamu's cock. Your juices are being forced out of you.

And you didn't even want it.

You're embarrassed and oddly satisfied at the same time. Your cum is dribbling down your legs and there's no doubt that it's dripping down Osamu's pelvis and thighs, too. He lets go of your hair and your head drops forward onto the table with a thump. You wince at the contact, but you don't move.

After a few silent minutes (silent other than your audible panting) exhaustion finally hits you, and with a heavy breath you completely collapse against the table. You finally stop your death grip on the sides of the table to let them dangle off the edge. Your scalp is sore, it makes your head pound when you move your head even slightly. 

A soft tired gasp escapes your throat in surprise; you feel little pecks going up your back and across your shoulders.

Then there’s feather-light kisses tickling your shoulder that leaves an agitated tingle in your nerves and—why? Why bother being gentle at this point? But the fluttering in your pelvis doesn't stop. He slips out of you just to turn your weak body over so you're laying on your back. You instantly move your eyes further down and—

It's pretty. Prettier than you imagined. His cock is fucking pretty. It's hypnotizing as you scan the vein running underneath the skin and the pink swollen head oozing clear liquid. It's glistening, dripping, with juices. 

Holy shit, those are your juices. 

It dawns on you that you both connected. Although not in the way that you had hoped, definitely not, but...you connected in the most physically intimate way possible. You felt him, his warmth, his damp skin, everything. Your eyes drift upwards. He's breathing heavily, his chest visibly moving. He has a firm grip on your thighs to keep you in place—you're not going anywhere. You don't want to go anywhere. Examining his face, you can see everything, every single detail. His lips, his lidded eyes, his cute nose, the shape of his face, and—wow—Osamu is pretty. So pretty. He's nearly angelic when you take a closer look. You don’t think you’ve ever been this close to him before.

You hope you're not imagining it, because you see something different behind his blank stare as if he's in as much of an awe as you are while you look up at him lovingly, like he didn't just hurt you. He took you against your will and yet you're staring at him like he just told you that you were his world. Are you a fucking idiot? Are you delusional?

"Do you love me?"

The question leaves him before he realizes his lips are forming the words. Osamu looks down at you, no other emotion laced in any of his handsome features except for distaste and...curiosity? With parted puffy lips and despair etched onto your cheeks, you slowly nod. The glazed look in your eyes draws him closer to your face, scrutinizing every part of your soft skin. He braces his hands on both sides of your trembling form. One part of your cheek is still wet from the tea that spilled earlier and your hair is disgustingly moist from a mixture of sweat and earl grey and you feel anxious again. 

"Okay," he says, voice as monotonous and dead as usual, but also worn out and accompanied with heavy breathing. You tense when he leans even closer, but quickly relax when you feel him kiss your forehead. It's a delicate kiss that makes your heart flutter. Then he trails further and connects your lips. It's short, but wet and sweet. He hadn't kissed you on your mouth the whole night, it probably would have been too weird for him to kiss a sad stalker he didn't know, especially when you vomited on his otherwise spotless floor. The taste of him is lingering on your skin—you're almost afraid to lick your lips in case this'll be the last time you ever have his against yours.

He pulls you into his chest. Your heart might just jump out of yours. His cock is brushing against your shuddering core, hard and sticky, but he doesn't enter you. Osamu simply holds you close, one of his hands in your hair and the other flat against your back. You weakly bring your arms up to wrap around his shoulders and dig your face into the crook of his neck. 

Then you cry. You let out a harsh breath and let yourself cry again, shoulders violently shaking and your chest tightening uncomfortably, for the thousandth time tonight even if you're tired and yearning for the comfort of your bed. Slowly, wet tears seep into his t-shirt. Osamu smells good—musky, sweaty, like a man. You don't understand what just happened—it brought you back to six months ago yet it feels entirely indifferent. He smells like a man, but he doesn't smell dirty like the last one who destroyed you.

He continues to hold you as you break down. Osamu thinks he understands, but you—you're more confused now more than ever.

[smoochkooks]

—chapter four: white lies

this is a part of my an ode to a broken heart drabble series.

pairing: jeon jungkook/reader

genre: unrequited love, best friends to (?), heavy angst, future smut

word count: 1.5k

summary: it came easy to you to lie. but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.

previous || next

one year and 6 months ago

April was exceptionally moody that year.  

Every day you woke up to either heavy rainfall or a beautiful, cloudless sky. Alternatively, it could also snow for a couple of hours just to have it all vanish once the sun reappeared. As much as you loved Spring, you hated the capricious weather with passion.  

It was a normal, peaceful, Saturday afternoon. Saturday meant no classes to attend, no work to do on the side. It was just you in your small, cozy apartment, tucked underneath the blanket and binge-watching Attack On Titan.  

You were never an anime enthusiast per se, but you happened to befriend a doe-eyed weeb all those years ago. Your current occupation was just a part of the aftermath. It wasn’t like Jungkook was obsessed, not at all. He was actually far from it. Now, at the tender age of twenty-three, his old hobby was like a relapse. His love for anime was coming in waves every once in a while, gradually transforming into a two-months-long hyperfixation and then, it was nothing. And the cicle continued.

He was currently in the stage of re-watching Attack On Titan, hence why you had been forced to finally give the damned anime a try as well. Hell, he was even coming over tonight to have a marathon with you.

(He’d said that season three, his favourite, you had to watch alongside him.)

You: eren's annoying little shit  

Jungkook: told you so

You: but levi? damn I’d sell my soul for him  

Jungkook: for a 5’2 emotionally unavailable man?  

You: yep. that’s my type

It was far from truth. As much as you liked Captain Levi, he wasn’t Jungkook. You are my type, you wanted to write instead. There hadn’t been a man in my life who managed to even come close to you. But, as always, you kept those confessions to yourself.  

Right when you were about to play another episode, your phone buzzed again.  

Jungkook: I have a weird question  

You: I’m used to that  

You: shoot your shot.  

Jungkook: what’s your finger size?  

Confused, you read his last message once again. That was indeed a weird fucking question to ask, you thought. You had never really been a fan of rings. You only owed one - a gift from your grandmother she gave you for your sixteenth birthday. Rummaging thorough your drawer, you found it in a separate, black case.  

It still fit just right, so you took a ruler, measured the size and googled the results.  

You: it’s 7.5 I guess

You: why do you ask tho?  

Jungkook: I need you to go somewhere with me before our marathon if that’s okay

You: you didn’t answer my question  

You: but okay. what time?

Jungkook: ill pick you up at 5pm  

Jungkook: you’ll see  

Maybe it was for the better he hadn’t told you where he was taking you. If you had know, you would have backed away last minute. Come up with so lame excuse, blame it all on a headache or period cramps.

If you had known Jungkook was taking you to pick up an engagement ring for Soojin, you would have never come with him.  

When you parked in front of one of the most high-ranking jewellery stores dowtown, the solemnity of the situation hit you like a whiplash. You took a deep, shuddering breath. Jungkook was thinking about marrying Soojin. Jungkook was going to propose to her, soon. He was ready to spent the rest of his life with her. 

Jeon Jungkook, the love of your life, was about to slip out of your reach for good. 

You couldn’t cry. Not in front of him. You clenched your fists so tight the knuckles turned white.  

“I figured out you could help me,” Jungkook said, breaking the silence and unbuckled his seatbelt. “I checked Soojin's finger size once when she was showering and then I found out that your’s the same and well, you’re a girl so you obviously know more about jewellery than me and–”

“Jungkook,” you cut him off with a dry chuckle. You didn’t want him to speak. You didn’t want to see him. You wanted to jumped off his car and ran away from that place as far as possible. “You don’t have to explain yourself. I get it.”  

You smiled at him with reassurance. It was actually hilarious, how you mastered the art of feigning your real feelings when you were with him. It came easy to you to lie but with every untold truth, you were hurting more on the inside.  

“I’m here, so you don’t have to worry about chosing something horrible.”  

He grinned and you noticed a dust of pink covering the apples his cheeks. It was hard, so fucking hard seeing him happy because that was all you ever wanted and yet it pained you not to be the main source of it. Jungkook was twenty-three and already so in love he wanted to get married. You were going to see him in a black tux, a prince charming waiting in front of the altar for his princess.  

It ached. Why did it ache to see him happy?

The lady who worked at the jewellery store greeted you politely with a bow. “What can I do for you?” she asked.  

“We are looking for engagement rings.” Jungkook answered.

You could tell she was a bit astounded but her professional smile never faltered when she responded with, “Oh, that’s still quite unusual to see the couple chosing an engagement ring together.”  

You were about to protest but then, Jungkook did something you would never expect him to do.  

He grasped your hand.

(It was warm. His touch was soothing. Comforting. Then why did it hurt so bad?)  

“My girlfriend wants to chose the ring herself but she doesn’t know when she will get it.”  

To make matters worse, he sent you a wink. The store’s clerk cooed at the scene and clasped a hand over her chest. For her it was yet another day at work, yet another pair of adults who had decided to get marry.  

“You make a really beautiful couple.” she said. 

Even Jungkook’s hand squeezing yours couldn’t ease the sting you felt hearing her speak those words to you. You smiled lightly for good measure. She then pointed at the display and gave you some time and space too look at the options.

Your whole face felt hot. Jungkook was still holding your hand, still playing the role of a perfect boyfriend. He didn’t seem to notice what kind of effect it had on you. He didn’t know how fast your heart was beating, how warm his touch felt on your skin. It was all just a silly joke to him.

He leaned closer to you, so the store's clerk couldn’t hear him. His breath tickled your skin. “You’re blushing.” he whispered.  

“Shut up.”  

He chuckled and let go of your hand. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”  

(No matter how much it hurt you on the inside, you already missed his touch.)

“It’s okay. Let’s chose my damned ring, shall we?” you proposed, mustering a nonchalant tone.  

Dodging uneasiness with humor always worked out, it seemed.

You felt odd and out of place standing next to him and staring at all those glimmering jewels. In the corner of the eye you saw the lady who worked there glancing at you from time to time and that was when you remembered you were supposed to act like a soon-to-be fiancée. 

“They’re all pretty.” you said to Jungkook. 

“Which one you like the most then?”  

You didn’t have to think long about the answer. The ring with an emerald stone caught your eye from the beginning. It was different than the others, definitely not a standard choice for engagement but something about its peculiarity made you want it to have it shinning on your finger one day.  

Except, you weren’t here for yourself. Jungkook wasn’t your boyfriend. You were helping him chose a ring for Soojin. And you knew exactly what she would like.  

So you pointed at the number thirty-two. A sparkling, white-gold ring with an oval-shaped diamond.  

Jungkook let out a hum. “It’s really pretty, yeah. Excuse me,” he called. “My girlfriend would like to try out this one.”  

You ignored the phantom pain you felt as you put the ring on. You flexed your fingers and just for a moment, you pretended it wasn’t a farce your best friend came up with. The diamond shone brightly just like the glimmers of happiness in Jungkook's eyes. He didn’t have to worry about Soojin's answer. He knew it would be thousand times yes.

You were good at pretending. After all, you had been practicing the art of it almost your entire life.  

So you drove with Jungkook to your apartment and listened to him babbling about his newest project at work. You made snacks, sat in front of your TV and spent the next couple of hours watching Attack On Titan. You cursed him for spoiling you a few bits of the show and Jungkook, like the petty Virgo he was, reminded you how you accidentally revealed him Little Women's ending because you had read the book years before.

As you laughed and bickered with him, you still remembered about the crimson box tucked in the pocket of his leather jacket, but you didn’t allow yourself to break. Not yet.  

It was only when Jungkook fell asleep around 1am that you stepped into the shower and let the tears flow.  

And a week later, when the dreaded became real–

Jungkook: she said yes!!!

A white lie was told to avoid hurting someone’s feelings.

You: I’m so happy for you, Jungkook!  

After all, the best you could do was give up your happiness for the sake of his own.

[enevera]

E F H U :-)

E: If you wrote a sequel to [insert fic], what would it be about?

u ask this like ive completed a fic ever in my life hsabjdl

but yeah none of the fics ive completed are all that worthy of a sequel in my eyes ig, but i did have an idea for a sequel for aootd where quentin and eliot get back to their own timeline and have to just like figure out if the whole thing they just experienced happened at all. also is quentin alive? who knows, great question to ask someone not me hbjdfs

(dont watch the magicians dont do it if anyone looks at that fic summary and goes oh that looks interesting but i'll have to watch the show first stop right there dont do it its not worth it the suffering is not worth it literally DO NOT)

the rest is under the cut bc this got soooo long asbhjkd

F: Share a snippet from one of your favourite dialogue scenes you've written and explain why you're proud of it.

jsdbnlkf okee taking this as a sign to talk abt my satoshouko convo thank u for enabling meee hehe >:D

“Stop that,” she says, frowning. “Don’t lie like that to me, it’s creepy.” “And you know all about creepy, huh?” he teases and feels the ground under his feet come a little closer. Unimportant conversation is an old comfort and he clings to the offer presented to him. “More than you,” she returns cooly. “Now get up. You’re coming back to my place.” She begins walking around the morgue collecting her own things. “I— What?” He stutters, all of him at once, fingers twitching and eyesight shaking. He’s still too many feet above the ground for this, it seems. “Why?” “You’re a mess,” Shouko explains, throwing a packet of cigarettes in her work purse; she has a nicer one that she brings out shopping and to cafés, he knows, that Utahime bought for her when they first started dating. The one she has for work is heavily worn and a dull brown; she’s had it since high school and they both pretend to forget where she’d gotten it from. “I don’t trust you by yourself and I don’t think you want to worry your kids, so you’re coming home with me.” “I’m fine, Shouko,” he tries to protest, but she shoots him a sternly unimpressed glare and walks back over to get in his face. “No you’re fucking not, don’t even try that right now. It won’t work. Besides…” she straightens up and turns away from him, tugging her bag’s strap up her shoulder. “You’re not the only one who needs some company tonight.”

okay on top of the brainrot writing this sparked in me my favorite favorite thing to write is characters with differing goals and they have very differing goals. i like when a character has already made a decision and i like writing characters disagreeing a bit. i just loveee when i get to write different motivations and i love them i love this convo and i like writing shouko mhm

H: How would you describe your style?

uhhh thats difficult lol but like i know i lean pretty hard into being very descriptive and i like a lottt of metaphors and imagery, but my main goal is always to get my mental picture across as much as i can, so i guess thats why. i like to keep dialogue on the sparser side, though. most of the time people dont monologue, so i try not to let the characters do it and i spent a lot of time rlly figuring out how ppl naturally speak so that i could do that ljsfdhb <33

U: Share three FOUR !! of your favourite fic writers and why you like them so much.

djhbsvjhdfbjv uhhhhhh shit lolol i dont usually read all that much by the same fic authors bc i jump fandoms p often (before jjk anyway, usually hyperfixations only last like 3-4 months for me, this has been like. eight or so; not counting dr who i come back to that a lot sbhjkd), but i will try my bestttt

yukiiiiii <33 obvi obvi echo's writing is so good that i read their bsd fic and i know like nothing abt bsd sfjbhd

biscaaniii!!! admittedly ive only read their jjk works but theyre so so so good highly recommend!!

krissssssss!!!! hi hi hi kris writes naruto stuff but u should read it everyone should read it her writing is soooo gooddddd!!!!!!!

also u habibi bc though i admittedly havent read all ur fics the ones i have read have been sooo good i love them v much i need to finish the miminana fic and read the rest dbjhf <333

ask game!!