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rene-spade · 8 months ago

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miss louisiana i | c. leclerc, a. saint mleux | chase landry

poly! | fem! reader x obsessive! exes! charles leclerc, alexandra saint mleux (+chase landry and f1 grid)

synopsis. your obsessive exes refuse to accept your new relationship with a man completely different from them. maybe they should move to louisiana? jk!. . . unless?

note. ok so reader is from louisiana and has cajun roots for context. chase landry is from swamp people 😭✌️ I loved that show when I was younger & I rewatched some recently and it reignited my crush on him sorry

WARNING(s); obsessive/possessive behavior, toxic/creepy exes (I make is as fluffy as I can tho trust), ooc Alex and Charles being a rich and out of touch, a spec of classism, stalking oops, (everyone Loves you)

miss.y/n📍belle river, la

liked by charles_leclerc, alexandrasaintmleux, jacoblandry, carlossainz55, and 1,006,349 others

miss.y/n back where I belong ☀️🌷🐊🐝🐍🌿🐠

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mariene.y/l/n be safe in the water my baby 🤗

miss.y/n yes maman 🤞😊 you know I’m protected

user oop who’s protecting you miss ma’am

user omgggg how did Charles n Alex fumble so baddd 😩😩🙏 I’ve needed y/n’s cajun french baddie ass since DAY ONE 🗣️

charles_leclerc so beautiful mon ange 😍 but that water is dark and might be dangerous. ta maman a raison!

see translation | your mom is right

user stopp didn’t y/n break things off with them???

user2 currently losing it my fav throuple might be back 💪🗣️

carlossainz55 hope you’re doing well mi dulce ❤️

alexandrasaintmleux yeah no this isn’t happening

user carlos sweetie delete this comment while you still have hands <3

user SHE’S BACK IN LOUISIANA RAHH

user2 how did I not know she was from the middle of nowhere 😭 what is pierre part??

user3 how didn’t you know!!! her dad literally used to hunt alligator before he died and her mom remarried and moved back to France . Her dad was cajun

user this might be a reach but y’all think she knows anybody from swamp people? Love that show 🤣🤣

liked by miss.y/n

♤ ♤ ♤

Alex’s leg bounced up and down nervously as her call went to voicemail for the 7th time in a row. She’d been calling your phone nonstop since hearing the news, anxious to know if it was true or not. It was always something that ate at her; her and Charles’ inability to relate to your childhood in Louisiana. They’d grown up among a higher class than you and in foreign countries. You would just giggle and wave off her concerns, insisting that even though they couldn’t understand your upbringing, that at least you could understand theirs.

“No answer.” She muttered, teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. It was a habit she’d had as a child, one that you disapproved of and had trained out of her before you left them.

“She left us for a swamp man.” Charles pathetically finished Alex’s thought as they sat in his car, waiting to meet some other drivers and wags at the high-end restaurant Carlos chose.

“Don’t say it like that!” Alexandra turned her body towards the passenger window, “She didn’t leave us— not in that way! I told you she was homesick!”

Your father was a Cajun man who definitely took his culture to heart, doing a lot of hunting and fishing before he passed away suddenly when you were 12. Your mother was from France originally, and she remarried a rich Frenchman who’d ended up funding your modeling career after your success in pageantry. You moved straight to France at age 14 and found yourself in a completely different culture from how you grew up. You’d visited France before during summers with your mother, but it wasn’t home to you like Louisiana. You’d met Alexandra when the two of you were 19, and instantly bonded. Despite only really meeting briefly, it was love at first sight on Alex’s part and she supported you all the way to when you won Miss Universe after starting out Miss Louisiana.

When Charles had come along and had the same feelings that she did for you, it felt perfect, like everything had finally come together.

“With us is her home.” Charles replied, sucking his teeth.

“I can’t even—” Alex didn’t have to finish, the two had the same thought. They can’t even fathom the idea that you were with someone else.

Daniel was practically cackling in joy while Carlos at least tried to hide his amusement by covering his face. It was no secret that most of the f1 grid was praying for you to leave Charles/Alex so they could get a chance— but this wasn’t what they were expecting.

Bickering around the table ensued, only a few seconds before Alex was rolling her eyes with a groan and putting her face in her hands, “He doesn’t have any recent social media so I can’t even stalk him.”

“So we will just go there!”

“And what? Become swamp people?” Daniel was laughing so hard he was tearing up.

“Cha, that’s so ridiculous.” Alex mumbled.

“It is—!” Kika agreed suspiciously fast, “I just mean the split was recent, so maybe me and Pierre should visit her before you guys?” It’d only been a few months, but that had been enough to drive Charles and Alex a bit off the rails.

They’d only ever been apart from you for just over two days in the last year, up until you ghosted them. Well— it wasn’t technically ghosting when you left a note; a very brief letter in your familiar handwriting that told them you needed some space. They didn’t take it as a break up, although they did panic. Their numbers weren’t blocked, so they naturally took that as a good sign. This was probably because you wanted their attention since all their calls and messages were going through. The finality of it didn’t hit until it reached two weeks of no-contact from you and their photos were removed from your Instagram. The public noticed and so did the rest of the grid despite Alex and Charles’ now 3-month-long denial stage.

“le lieu s'appelle Pierre Part, yeah?” Pierre grinned and Charles sneered at him. (the place is called pierre part)

“They might have a point,” Daniel winced with a wide grin, “I think you’ll just look crazy if you show up. At least, one of us would just look like a friend who misses her, ya know?”

“None of you are visiting our girlfriend!” Alex frowned.

“Ex,” Carlos gently corrected into his fist with a cough before straightening up, “She jus’ is homesick maybe so give her some space and she will come back in no time.”

“I knew this would happen.” Alex slumped with her chin in her hand, “cet endroit est sa maison.” (that place is her home)

“You’ve never heard ‘if you love something, let it go’? If it’s meant to be, she’ll come back.” Daniel tried to reassure, but his face was almost a wince.

“We just wanted her close to us is all! We travel so much, we didn’t mean to take her away from her home—”

But Daniel gave them a look, knowing about their behavior with you. As in love with you as they are, Alex and Charles are intense about it. Endearing on one hand for awhile, but then the jealousy got worse and they were pretty delusional about their tendencies. He could understand it honestly— you were lovely. He imagined he’d be in the same state as Alex and Charles if you were his and you left him. Which is why he cut them so much slack, the rest of the table too.

“I don’t understand why she ran away like that!” Charles finished with a huff, running his fingers through his hair. He was starting to sweat. This felt like a cruel joke on your part— a mean way to get their attention.

“His ears are a little big.” Alex whispered, staring into her phone with a pout.

“et cela! regarde nos oreilles!” (and that! look at our ears!)

Pierre lost it at that; Charles pulling at his ears to make a point, “Maybe he’s just a nice guy, man!”

“We are nice!”

“Let me see.” Carlos walked around the table to see Alex’s phone.

She’d googled the name of your alleged new boyfriend— Chase Landry. He had starred on some Southern US reality show ‘Swamp People’; it mainly surrounded cajun alligator hunters in Louisiana. They had known you liked the show, but had never seen it themselves.

“Eh,” Carlos shrugged, “his ears aren’t that big. He is a little old for her though, no? 34?”

“Exactly! He is a pervert! I’m calling her again, actually.”

♤ ♤ ♤

miss.y/n 📍pierre part, la

liked by jacoblandry, carlossainz55, francisca.cgomes, danielricciardo, and 1,014,108 others

miss.y/n me and my dirty swamp man foreva 🤞💛🌷🦆

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user STOPPP SHE SAID THAT’S MY MAN N IMMA STICK BY HIMMMM

user2 stfu 😭✋ the fact that this man most likely has no idea that this is going on

user3 his brother liking her posts and filling him in

miss.y/n jokes on y’all Jacob doesn’t know what’s going on either

bellahadid beautiful lily faery and her dirty swamp bf <3

miss.y/n <3 literally

user BELLA⁉️

arthur_leclerc beautiful view of the water, ma sœur!

see translation | my sister

user THEY SENT Y/NS FAVORITE LECLERC BROTHER IN TO PLAY DAMAGE CONTROL

user2 not “my sister” 😭😭😭 leclercs let her go challenge

user y/n’s harem coming to her defense like the mighty morphin power rangers 😭😂🤣

this is part 1 of perhaps 3. I plan on making part 2 much longer and more writing than social media like this one, just for some balanceee

taglist; @alliwantisadonut @splaterparty0-0 @charizznorizz

Ren

#f1 fanfic #f1 fic #dark! f1 #f1 grid x reader #obsessive f1 #charles leclerc x reader #poly f1 #f1 oc #obsessive charles leclerc #ex! charles leclerc #Charles leclerc fic #carlos sainz x reader #alex saint mleux x reader #alexandra saint mleux #f1 reverse harem #swamp people x reader #chase landry x reader

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evidence-based-activism · 4 months ago

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Individual men aren't equally predisposed to committing rape. men are approximately 49% of the population and commit 80% of violent crime. The correlation to testosterone to physical aggression is indisputable -- this correlation between masculinization and aggression exists even in women.

These antisocial behaviors are the subverted, shadow aspect to the more predominant masculine (even in masculine women) urge to provide and protect, which entails necessary and selective objectification and aggression.

“There is no female Mozart because there is no female Jack the Ripper.” is what Camille Paglia said. Genius, she argues, takes obsession, which produces good and bad talents and skills. Women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum and men on the ends.

Social forces are certainly at play, but I want to stay focused. trauma or other external factors may serve to explain, but not excuse behavior. Feminine crime is more likely to be focused on family -- children, partners, elders, and others in the immediate family.

https://time.com/2921491/hope-solo-women-violence/

Women are at least equally as likely as men to initiate DV. 40% of victims in a DV study in America were men. Women are at least as likely as men to abuse their children and are the perpetrators in at least half of child maltreatment cases. Lesbian couples also have the highest rate of DV -- 44%, compared to 35% of straight women and 26% of gay men.

Anecdotally speaking, I was abused physically and psychologically by my mother, who was abused physically and psychologically by both her parents. I was also SA'd by a man. Both sexes have their share of degenerates who harm others. Whether their personalities or social experiences are masculine, feminine, or somewhere in between likely has an effect on how they express their violence. Everyone who commits a crime against another should be held accountable, I just disagree with the dichotomy that men are assumed to be perps and women are assumed to be victims.

I'm going to respond to this in parts.

"Individual men aren't equally predisposed to committing rape."

No, no one is ever equally predisposed to anything since that would require the confluence of innumerable, mostly unknown, factors. I have never made this claim; I don't of anyone who has ever made this claim.

"Men are approximately 49% of the population and commit 80% of violent crime."

This technically true in the USA [1]. However, it also leaves out the fact that men account for closer to 90% of homicide offenders in the USA and closer to 95% of homicides worldwide [2]. And those statistics don't even consider the fact that many female homicide offenders were acting in self defense. Men also account for closer to 90-95% of all sex offenders [3].

That is to say, a greater proportion of women's offenses are "simple assault" than men's [4]. (Simple assault is generally defined as either a threat of physical harm without any actual harm or minor acts of assault without resulting injury like slapping someone, grabbing their arm, or spitting on them.)

All in all, men commit the vast majority of violent crime and an even larger proportion of serious violent crime.

"The correlation to testosterone to physical aggression is indisputable -- this correlation between masculinization and aggression exists even in women."

No, no it is not, and no it does not.

This meta-analysis [5] found a correlation of 0.08 between testosterone and aggression. To be clear, a correlation score can range from -1 to +1, with -1 indicating a perfect negative correlation, +1 indicating a perfect positive correlation, and 0 indicating no correlation. A correlation of 0.08 is an extremely weak correlation.

Another, more recent, meta-analysis [6] found a 0.05 correlation between aggression and testosterone and no statistically significant causal effect of testosterone on aggression. Changes in testosterone were weakly correlated with aggression (0.16) and this was only in men. Importantly, this result may have been influenced by publication bias (see the study for details). Again, to be clear, they found no evidence of a causal connection between testosterone and aggression.

The lack causal connection is important, as some research as presented in this review [7] and meta-analysis [8], suggests that behavior/external events (like winning a competition) can increase testosterone. This raises an important question: can acting/being aggressive independently raise testosterone? If so, (and it does appear likely) then men who choose to act aggressive may be raising their testosterone levels; when recorded in a correlational format this results in the positive (albeit weak) correlation discussed above.

Here's some other, single study results:

In women, performing (acting out) a performance of power, whether in a traditionally masculine or feminine way, increased their level of testosterone [9]

In men, testosterone increases both pro-social and anti-social "status enhancing" behaviors [10]

Testosterone is associated with both "socially dominant [note: not necessarily aggressive] behavior among high-status persons, but strategic submission to seniority among lower-status persons" in men [11]

Testosterone is associated with greater pro-social behavior in women [12]

In an animal (male gerbil) model, testosterone caused prosocial behavior depending on "current social context" [13]

All in all, the correlation between testosterone and aggression is (1) not indisputable, (2) extremely weak, and (3) doesn't appear to apply to women.

"These antisocial behaviors are the subverted, shadow aspect to the more predominant masculine (even in masculine women) urge to provide and protect, which entails necessary and selective objectification and aggression."

Anon ... no. First of all, you appear to be treating "masculine" behavior as if it is biologically innate - for which there is no evidence - rather than socially determined.

You act as if women have not been "providing" since women existed. As if women haven't been involved in growing and domesticating plants and animals, haven't been taking care of children, haven't been growing and giving birth to all the children in history. Even the traditional "feminine" role emphasizes "providing" and "nurturing" the family.

I have the exact same comments for "protect", but more importantly: protect from what anon? From the weather? Bears? Disease? No. It's men. Men protect women from other men and then expect us to be grateful, as if it isn't men who have created the need for protection.

Beyond all that: even if the "masculine urge to provide and protect" were a real thing (and not something women have always been involved in), it still would not necessitate the "selective objectification and aggression". This argument isn't even logical ... why would "providing" need objectification? If there were no aggression what would be left to protect?

"There is no female Mozart ... "

Absolutely hilarious example to choose, anon. Meet, the female Mozart: Maria Anna “Nannerl” Mozart (his sister) [14].

And here's some other female contemporaries of Mozart [15]. I suggest Google as a resource to find more.

"...because there is no female Jack the Ripper."

While it is true that the number of male serial killers does outnumber female serial killers (and the disparity is even wider for those who kill specifically for sadism), there have, in fact, been some.

"Genius, she argues, takes obsession, which produces good and bad talents and skills. Women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum and men on the ends."

I find the argument that obsession -> genius to be very concerning, and don't expect there are any sources on that. In particular, serial killer IQs tend to follow the same range as non-serial killers (source in last linked post).

And no, the idea that women fall in the middle of the IQ spectrum is not supported by high quality evidence.

This extensive multi-country review [16] on math performance found that the "variance ratio" (the measure for what you're describing) varies widely between countries and is related to social inequality. This suggests the differences in variance are a result of environmental not innate differences.

This longitudinal study [17] claims to find differences in girl's and boy's IQ scores, but the differences found are within the margin of error of the test. This means that a sex difference is unlikely to exist, and is, at the very least, not reliably measurable. It also suggests that any difference in the variance of IQ scores, is very small. (And see above for possible alternative explanations of this difference.)

"Social forces are certainly at play"

Yes, as indicated above.

"but I want to stay focused."

Focused on what??

"trauma or other external factors may serve to explain, but not excuse behavior."

Agreed (mostly). They may serve as a partial explanation yes, but people can experience trauma or other hardships without engaging in violence.

"Feminine crime is more likely to be focused on family -- children, partners, elders, and others in the immediate family." + [The link]

Correct, most crime by women is aimed at people they know. See above posts (when I spoke about homicide) for further discussion on this.

The link is an anecdotal source on this topic, again, refer to my earlier discussions.

"Women are at least equally as likely as men to initiate DV. 40% of victims in a DV study in America were men. Women are at least as likely as men to abuse their children and are the perpetrators in at least half of child maltreatment cases."

This is completely false. The idea that women perpetrate domestic violence or child abuse at similar rates as men, is a misogynistic myth.

See this post for an explanation. Also, this source [18] discusses the topic of women and domestic violence perpetration; I plan to eventually make a post on this topic, but in the meantime that source is an excellent place to start.

"Lesbian couples also have the highest rate of DV -- 44%, compared to 35% of straight women and 26% of gay men."

This is also a myth. A misogynistic and homophobic myth.

I'm not sure where you got those specific numbers, but I believe the origin of the myth started in the one of the CDC's reports on "Victimization by Sexual Identity" [19]. See this post for an explanation on why you shouldn't use this data to try and estimate perpetration. (Short version: it isn't weighted to be representative of the perpetrator population.) For the intimate partner violence portion in particular, it shares the same issues I describe in my post debunking the last two myths (i.e., reliance on the CTS and issues there within.)

More importantly, they don't report on the sex of the perpetrator for domestic violence, so we also have no idea if the lifetime prevalence rate of domestic violence is a result of prior relationships with a man. Data on other forms of victimization support the possibility, with 73% of lesbian victims reporting only male perpetrators of any contact sexual violence and 90% of lesbian victims reporting only male perpetrators of rape. In addition, 52% of lesbian victims report only male perpetrators of stalking.

This BJS report "Violent Victimization by Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, 2017–2020" [20] shows a similar rate of intimate partner violence for homosexual and heterosexual individuals. Importantly, however, this combines male and female homosexual individuals into one category, so we don't know the specific rate for female homosexuals.

"Anecdotally speaking, I was abused physically and psychologically by my mother, who was abused physically and psychologically by both her parents. I was also SA'd by a man."

This is terrible, and I hope you are safe and able to heal.

"Both sexes have their share of degenerates who harm others."

Sure, I mentioned the female serial killers. Notably, however, if you take a random sample of "degenerates who harm others" the vast majority are men.

"Whether their personalities or social experiences are masculine, feminine, or somewhere in between likely has an effect on how they express their violence."

I do not know what you mean by this. Socialization definitely plays a significant role in why men are so much more violent than women, but "feminine" men can and have been as violent as "masculine" men and "masculine" women have been as non-violent as "feminine" women.

"Everyone who commits a crime against another should be held accountable"

Yes.

"I just disagree with the dichotomy that men are assumed to be perps and women are assumed to be victims."

Anon, you started this ask by acknowledging that men commit 80% of violent crime (and I clarified that men commit 90+% of serious violent crime). This disparity is significant enough that it is perfectly reasonable to treat violent crime as a gendered phenomenon.

There are always exceptions and outliers. The existence of these cases does not invalidate the trend, nor should they deter the generalizations needed for meaningful class analysis.

Now, if you want to advocate against violence in general, draw attention to "male-on-male" violence and work to reduce it, that's also reasonable, and I wish you luck with your endeavor. (In all likelihood, feminist activism will - and already has - reduced male-on-male violence, even when it wasn't a specific target.)

But you still need to acknowledge that violence is primarily the domain of men. You also need to recognize that feminism is a movement by and for women. Our focus will always be male violence against women.

References below the cut:

Alexandra Thompson & Susannah N. Tapp. (2023). Criminal victimization, 2022 (307089; Criminal Victimization). Bureau of Justice Statistics. https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/criminal-victimization-2022

Homicide and Gender. (2015). UNODC United Nations Office on Drugs and Crime.

McCartan, K. (Ed.). (2014). Responding to Sexual Offending. Palgrave Macmillan UK. https://doi.org/10.1057/9781137358134

Lawrence A. Greenfeld & Tracy L. Snell. (2000). Women Offenders. Bureau of Justice Statistics. https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/women-offenders

Archer, John, et al. “Testosterone and Aggression: A Reanalysis of Book, Starzyk, and Quinsey’s (2001) Study.” Aggression and Violent Behavior, vol. 10, no. 2, Jan. 2005, pp. 241–61. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.avb.2004.01.001.

Geniole, S. N., et al. “Is Testosterone Linked to Human Aggression? A Meta-Analytic Examination of the Relationship between Baseline, Dynamic, and Manipulated Testosterone on Human Aggression.” Hormones and Behavior, vol. 123, July 2020, p. 104644. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yhbeh.2019.104644.

van Anders, Sari M., and Neil V. Watson. “Social Neuroendocrinology.” Human Nature, vol. 17, no. 2, June 2006, pp. 212–37. Springer Link, https://doi.org/10.1007/s12110-006-1018-7.

Geniole, Shawn N., et al. “Effects of Competition Outcome on Testosterone Concentrations in Humans: An Updated Meta-Analysis.” Hormones and Behavior, vol. 92, June 2017, pp. 37–50. ScienceDirect, https://doi.org/10.1016/j.yhbeh.2016.10.002.

Van Anders, Sari M., et al. “Effects of Gendered Behavior on Testosterone in Women and Men.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences, vol. 112, no. 45, Nov. 2015, pp. 13805–10. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1509591112.

Dreher, Jean-Claude, et al. “Testosterone Causes Both Prosocial and Antisocial Status-Enhancing Behaviors in Human Males.” Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences of the United States of America, vol. 113, no. 41, Oct. 2016, pp. 11633–38. PubMed Central, https://doi.org/10.1073/pnas.1608085113.

Inoue, Yukako, et al. “Testosterone Promotes Either Dominance or Submissiveness in the Ultimatum Game Depending on Players’ Social Rank.” Scientific Reports, vol. 7, no. 1, July 2017, p. 5335. www.nature.com, https://doi.org/10.1038/s41598-017-05603-7.

Casto, Kathleen V., and David A. Edwards. “Testosterone and Reconciliation Among Women: After-Competition Testosterone Predicts Prosocial Attitudes Towards Opponents.” Adaptive Human Behavior and Physiology, vol. 2, no. 3, Sept. 2016, pp. 220–33. Springer Link, https://doi.org/10.1007/s40750-015-0037-1.

Kelly, Aubrey M., et al. “Beyond Sex and Aggression: Testosterone Rapidly Matches Behavioural Responses to Social Context and Tries to Predict the Future.” Proceedings of the Royal Society B: Biological Sciences, vol. 289, no. 1976, June 2022, p. 20220453. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1098/rspb.2022.0453.

Walker ·, Karla. “Who Was the Female Mozart?” Colorado Public Radio, 18 May 2022, https://www.cpr.org/2022/05/18/who-was-the-female-mozart/.

Hidden Herstory: Mozart and His Female Contemporaries - Women’s Philharmonic Advocacy. 22 July 2022, https://wophil.org/hidden-herstory-mozart-and/.

Kane, Jonathan M., and Janet E. Mertz. “Debunking Myths about Gender and Mathematics Performance.” Notices of the American Mathematical Society, vol. 59, no. 01, Jan. 2012, p. 10. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1090/noti790.

Lynn, Richard, and Satoshi Kanazawa. “A Longitudinal Study of Sex Differences in Intelligence at Ages 7, 11 and 16 Years.” Personality and Individual Differences, vol. 51, no. 3, Aug. 2011, pp. 321–24. DOI.org (Crossref), https://doi.org/10.1016/j.paid.2011.02.028.

Michael S. Kimmel. (2001). Male Victims of Domestic Violence: A Substantive and Methodological Research Review. The Equality Committee of the Department of Education and Science. https://vawnet.org/material/male-victims-domestic-violence-substantive-and-methodological-research-review

Chen, J., Khatiwada, S., Chen, M. S., Smith, S. G., Leemis, R. W., Friar, N., Basile, K. C., and Kresnow, M. (2023). TheNational Intimate Partner and Sexual Violence Survey (NISVS) 2016/2017: Report on Victimization by Sexual Identity.Atlanta, GA: National Center for Injury Prevention and Control, Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Truman, Jennifer L., and Rachel E. Morgan. Violent Victimization by Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity, 2017–2020. Bureau of Justice Statistics, June 2022, https://bjs.ojp.gov/library/publications/violent-victimization-sexual-orientation-and-gender-identity-2017-2020.

#feminism #male violence

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lyrenminth · 2 months ago

Text

Stood up for you

You didn't want Joe to meet your family. During your first year as a couple, you spent most of the time with his family, until one day he asked you about your parents and siblings. You were as vague as you could be. You wished you could tell him you didn't feel embarrassed, but that wasn't true.

Your family was a mess. You were the middle child, and the only one with a regular income. Your older brother was living with your mom, and your younger sister was married and had two little children. She was also living with your parents. And both of them only talked to you to ask for money. You didn't want to tell them who you were dating because they would be worse once they knew it.

It was, in fact, not nice. Your mom didn't believe you when you told her. She laughed in your face. "Questionable taste" - what kind of mom talks about her daughter like that? Your brother was happy for you, smelling the opportunities Joe could bring. "Maybe I'm gonna start a podcast and he can be my first guest," he told you, all smiles.

Your sister frowned but didn't say much. Your dad was the only reasonable one. He told you he expected Joe to treat you right.

So when Joe told you he wanted to meet your family, you tried your best to avoid the day. But you couldn't - he was adamant. And now he knew why. Sitting at the table during dinner, trying his best to answer all the questions your brother was shooting, your sister tried to sit next to him until your dad told her that was your place. And you could only smile uncomfortably, wanting that stupid dinner to end. Then, your mother decided to talk.

"Well, Joe, you see my daughter is not the sharpest tool of the three," she said so casually. "But I'm glad you like her."

Joe's eyes sparkled with annoyance, and his reply came along quickly. "I disagree with you, Mrs. [Your Last Name]. I think she's the smartest in this room," he said, politely but tensely.

"Oh, no. My son got a degree in a very important university, and her sister is a wonderful mother. Sometimes I lose track of you, honey," she said to you in a fake tone. You felt your face turn red. "You always disappear somehow, but now you are here. We're very happy."

"Thanks, Mom."

"After all, you achieved something in your life," Joe put the cutlery down so hard the table shook a little bit. Everybody looked at him, and he was mad, mad. The vein in his forehead was popping, eyebrows furrowed together and his eyes were fire.

"Y/N is one of the most hard-working women I know. She got a degree in communications and she's incredibly good at her job. I'm proud to be her boyfriend, and I think now I understand her better," he squeezed your hand below the table. His eyes told you everything. I know now why you don't want them - they're nuts. "You should be proud of her, because honestly, ma'am, you are losing wonderful opportunities with your behavior."

The tension could be cut with a knife. Until your dad started laughing. You frowned, confused and frustrated. Joe gave him the side-eye but didn't say anything.

"God, he's a good one," your mother was scowling at him, blushed and irritated.

"The dinner was delicious, the company not so much," Joe added in a salty tone. He stood up and reached for your hand. "Let's go, baby."

You were in shock. You silently took his hand and walked out the dinner room as everyone was watching you. "Excuse us" Joe said to you father, nodding in courtesy.

He took your coat and your bag and gently push you out of the door. "Let's go" he was scowling at everything until you reached the car. Once inside, he let out a deep breath. "I'm so sorry" he apologized, looking regretful.

"It's ok" you whispered, feeling ashamed, and happy and on the verge of crying. You looked straight at the door of your house. Your family house. So many memories there and yet it felt so distant.

"I shouldn't have insist on this. I never thought they would be so..." he stopped looking for the correct word. "Awful?" you suggested.

"Your brother is an opportunist and your sister is clearly jealous of you" he grumbled, starting the engine. "I don't have kind words, sorry"

"It's ok" you repeated, you knew your family well. You let out a shaky breath. Your search for his hand through the console "Thank you for standing up for me"

"No problem" he squeezed it and a slight smile appeared on his lips. "Nobody is going to trash talk you in my presence, ever"

You laughed, he was very secure of his statement though. You felt something flutter in your stomach, spreading through your chest until your ir reached your fingertips. No one has stood for you like this before. He was on your team. "Thank you, baby "

"Everything for you" he winked.

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow fan fic #fanfiction #nfl

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silkscream · 8 months ago

Text

pure smile snake venom

ੈ✩ suguru geto x reader

ੈ✩ cw: smut (minors dni, ageless + blank blogs will be blocked), unprotected sex, dom!suguru, emotional manipulation, fingering, dubcon, blood, yandere behavior, edging, multiple orgasms, choking, loss of virginity, religious imagery

ੈ✩ wc: 5.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: oooo i am soo normal about cult leader suguru. art by @/wonowono__3 on twitter

He finds you unconscious.

He feels you before he sees you – your cursed energy permeates the air with dread. He can feel it in his throat, as if the hand of his past self materialized to strangle him, reminding him of desperation. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to, not anymore.

It also felt like death.

When he finds you, your body would have easily been looked over, small as you were compared to the vastness of the forest around you. Insignificant, left to rot.

When he’d looked at your face, there was recognition in his chest despite not seeing you before. He hadn’t been drawn to anyone in a while. He barely had anyone that wasn’t at arm's length to him, even his closest devouts, yet something about the delicateness of your face enticed him. A predator finding lost prey.

He finds it mildly sacrilegious to touch you when you’re in this state, but your shirt was saturated with so much blood that it took him a bit to realize that the color of the fabric was supposed to be white and not merlot-red. He lifts your shirt, grimacing at its dampness, and finds a wound that looks fatal.

He looks at it and feels the residuals of a nasty curse. By the time he tracks it down, he tortures it with all of the energy inside of him.

You wake up on a futon you don’t recognize. You don’t remember a thing.

You wince as you attempt to rise, clutching your side. You’re topless, clothed only by gauze covering your chest and ribs.

You exhale, closing your eyes. In the darkness behind your eyelids, you see a face with a vacant smile. You are met with that very smile when you open your eyes again.

“Welcome back.”

You blink. He must be the stranger that saved you from — well, what did he save you from? You were used to spirits, took years to adjust to that fact, and have even killed a few yourself. But when you feel the pain in your side, nothing comes to mind.

“You… saved me?”

“I suppose so. It was pure luck that I happened to stumble upon you.”

“Where — where am I?”

He tells you it’s his temple, then he tells you his name. When he asks for yours, you’re reluctant. Eventually, you tell him. If he was luring you into his trap, you suppose you had fallen into it against your will by pure chance. It was probably better than bleeding out in the middle of nowhere.

“Do you have anyone who will miss you?”

You don’t say anything. You think of the dingy studio apartment you’ve been subletting for a few months. You try to conjure up a narrative of belonging in your head that would give you any reason for you to leave. Nothing comes.

You shake your head.

Geto Suguru is the first person to tell you that you’re magic.

You knew that, in some way, ever since you were a child. Your intuition made you a strange child, always slightly cryptic with a sense of maturity that made you seem like a vessel for a sad ghost. Your visions would only get stronger – small bursts of light whiplashing through your mind into images, rapid like a supercut. The things you saw would come true.

This is what makes you a good weapon. Ironically, you had always thought of yourself as weak.

He was captivating the way a cult leader should be, and you had fallen under his spell. It was his robes and the regal way he carried himself, maybe. You don’t think he’s bad — he’s made you important, and you’ve never felt wanted before. You were a recluse before Suguru found you. Barely the shape of anything, so he found it appropriate to mold you into something to call his.

Suguru doesn’t tell you much. You know that he probably lies to you.

He holds too much power for you to question it. His cursed technique is daunting and his grace is enviable, but he’s mostly kind. You help him when he finds curses, usually the more powerful ones that could threaten him. Able to see into the near future, you can sense their next move each time. It makes it easy to subdue them to Suguru’s advantage.

You also find that he is regarded as something of a saint to non-sorcerers. Something twists in your gut when you watch his exorcisms, seeing the immediate relief in the faces of his followers. They look at him with so much adoration that it makes you self-conscious that you share the same disposition.

He tells you you’re his favorite and the feeling dissipates.

You like how ritualistic living in the temple is. Breakfast at the same time each day. Tea in the garden. Rolling in the gross with bruised knuckles.

You take a liking to his girls. They remind you of yourself, but they lack the meekness you had as a teenager. The twins adore you almost as much as they adore Suguru. They are endlessly fickle, as most teenage girls are, but their devotion is worn candidly in the way they carry themselves. You wonder how they can be so obedient, but you realize that they have known nothing else.

It’s a quiet luxury. You like to pretend that you’re some sort of priestess, sometimes. You had never been as reverent as your mother, but you think that there is peace in serving a God. If not Suguru, then some higher power must’ve granted you another chance at life, even if your new life meant mundane piety.

You liked routine – it fit you. You did your part in the temple and Suguru would reward you with gentle praises. You were only one of few sorcerers in his current entourage, so you felt special.

Despite this, something felt messing. You often wish Suguru could cast out the malaise inside of you, but you’ve carried it in the pit of yourself for as long as you could remember. Even in your pious bliss, you start wondering if the curse that nearly killed you left a part of itself within you. Each day is the same until you wear thin.

When the string finally breaks, you find him with blood on his hands in the temple’s omoya.

It’s not the blood of a curse, either. It’s dark crimson, such as the same blood that is inside of you, and on the tatami mat lies the lifeless body of a servant.

Shin, his name was. He wasn’t much younger than you, but he had the spirit of a boy, always able to make you laugh before he served you breakfast. He had arrived only a few months after you had, citing suicidal ideation as a catalyst to seeking Suguru’s services. Once treated, he had felt larger than life.

And now, his face is frozen in time – the look of sheer fear.

“Useless monkey,” Suguru tuts, wiping the blood off his face. You’ve seen that look on his face before — when he’s cruel and callous in battle. When he snaps the neck of a special grade curse before he eats it.

You run to the bathroom to vomit.

When you emerge, one of the twins looks at you curiously. Mimiko. She smiles at you serenely, her eyes flickering with taunt.

“Is everything alright, Y/N-san?”

“Y-yes,” you nod. “Just a bit under the weather.”

“Are you feeling sick?” Her eyes light up for a second. “Oh, could you be pregnant? Nanako and I really wish there was another kid around—“

“No, no, I’m not pregnant,” you cut her off, shocked. Did she think you and Suguru were… together? Did she think you were his concubine?

“Ah. I can get the servants to prepare some ginger tea for you.”

“No need, Mimiko,” you shake your head, smiling sheepishly. “I just… need to get some air.”

She leaves you alone as you walk towards the pagoda. You feel another wave of nausea when you remember Shin’s lifeless eyes. The blood on his throat.

You stare at the sunset. It’s been a long time since you’ve left the temple of your own volition. Suguru keeps a tight leash on you nowadays, blaming the unpredictability of your power. Bitterly, you realize that you’re only ever in town alongside him.

Sometimes, you miss being a stray.

His presence is immediate. When you turn, his long hair sways in the breeze as he flashes you a cat-like smile.

“Thought you were trying to run away from me,” he murmurs, walking towards you. “But you’d never do that, would you?”

“Just… enjoying the view.”

He looks at you, amused. It feels belittling.

“I apologize. I thought Nanako had locked the door.”

Your blood stills. He saw you.

“I thought you only killed curses,” you stammer. For the first time, his presence makes you feel unsafe.

“I never said that, sweet girl,” he chuckles. He plays with a loose strand of your hair. “Humans are beneath us, you know that. Humans are the reason curses are created. Curses just like the one that nearly killed you.”

You don’t have it in you to protest. He’s gotten closer to you now. A hand on your waist. His lips kissing your hairline in a way that makes you feel like a child again.

“I— I liked him,” you stutter.

“Mm,” he hums. “He liked you, too. A bit too much if you ask me.”

You stay silent. Only the sound of cicadas fill the air.

“It’s not your fault,” he grins. “You charm anyone you meet by default, you know. But sometimes, these followers… they want to threaten our mission. Sometimes, they’re paid off by sorcerers who are targeting me to gather intel. And darling, when there’s a target on my back, there’s a target on yours.”

You pull away from him with wide eyes. His face is neutral. So naive, you are. He was only doing you a favor, but a sheltered girl like you trusts too easily.

“Just remember. I will be the only one to protect you.”

He finds you in the garden.

You’re surrounded by wildflowers, your yukata loose enough on you that it falls off your shoulder when you sit up to greet him. The sight of your bare skin tokes the fire in his stomach. He’s dressed more casually tonight, in a plain kimono as opposed to his usual gojo-gesa.

“Enjoying the fireflies?” he asks.

“Yes.”

He notices the dark circles under your eyes. Your smile is tired now. You stare blankly as if you’re in a trance.

“You’ve been a bit off lately,” he muses. “Something on your mind?”

You blink at him in surprise, almost regretting it once you make eye contact. The hint of a lazy smile is there while his eyes scrutinize you. It always feels like he can see right through you, observing you just before he eats you whole.

“No, Geto-sama,” you shake your head.

He laughs, rubbing your shoulder. “So formal with me.”

“Shouldn’t I be?” you knit your brows. You had been at the temple for less than a year. You weren’t intimate with him enough to warrant that. You weren’t intimate with him in the way your heart longed for.

“Not with me. Never with me.”

“Suguru.” You mull over the taste of his name on your tongue. The shape of it in your mouth. “I’m okay, Suguru.”

You feel pathetic under his gaze. You can tell he’s waiting for you to say something, sensing the apprehension in your voice. The slight quiver of your bottom lip as you avoid his face.

“I’m just… recovering. From my technique, that’s all,” you say hoarsely.

It’s not a complete lie — the intensive training with Suguru led you to discover that you could bend time and space to your will in small aspects. Teleporting short distances became a new tool for your arsenal. It was still difficult to manage and exhausting to exert. The other day, your nose had bled so much that you almost thought your membranes would burst completely.

“You’re exhausting yourself,” he says gently, rubbing a hand to the small of your back. “But you’re improving rapidly. I’m proud of you.”

Warmth floods your body at his praise. It was too easy for him to wrap you around his finger, and you were starting to hate it.

“Thank you,” you mumble.

“Do you feel powerful?”

You take a moment of reprieve when he asks this. Powerful? Despite being a sorcerer and wielding the ability to exorcise the monstrous manifestations of human suffering, you did not feel powerful at all. You never have. If anything, you only felt useful.

“Not really.”

“You should,” he smiles. “You’re getting stronger. We’re untouchable together, you and me.”

You and me echoes loud in your brain. Stitches itself into every crevice unwittingly.

“Ge– Suguru,” you swallow thickly. “Is that why you saved me? Because you wanted me to get strong?”

“Yes,” he nods without hesitation. “I saw potential in you.”

“Is that all I am? Potential? I’m just– just a vehicle for you?”

He leans over to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. His own hair is down, for once, and you can smell his white tea shampoo as his shoulder touches yours. It almost soothes you.

“You aren’t just a tool to me, you know that,” he sighs, looking at you with intent. “I like taking care of you.”

You nod slowly as you look towards the sky. His words aren’t enough to fill the emptiness inside you. His proximity to you makes your chest constrict in the slightest bit, creaking the floorboards of your ribs inside a haunted house body.

You shiver when he pulls down your yukata and presses a chaste kiss to your collarbone. It must feel the same as when humans get their curses exorcised by him. Lightness in their being instead of dead weight. Blessed by a god.

“Come inside,” he purrs. “You’re getting cold, yeah? I can see your goosebumps.”

No. His hands were just colder than you expected.

He gathers his hair into a half-up bun before he brings you to his room for the first time. It’s rather bare, save for the kotatsu across from his futon and the talismans that are hanging above it. The calligraphy is messy, unintelligible, as if the text was written manically.

He sits you down at the kotatsu and pours you bergamot tea. You cough nervously in anticipation.

“Suguru.”

“Yes?”

“Um.. how long do you intend on keeping me here?”

He raises a brow. Looks at you like you’ve asked something stupid.

“You have somewhere else to go?” he asks sarcastically.

You triple-blink at his bluntness. He isn’t taking you seriously.

“Well, I have a friend or two in my hometown. I was thinking about—”

Your breath hitches when he grabs your chin. His gaze bores into your face, his lips in a hard line.

“You’re unhappy,” he says plainly.

“No, I’m just not sure if I can completely fulfill the purpose that you—”

“Do you think anyone else will take you in?” he spits. “You told me yourself. You have no family. You were barely scraping by when you lived alone. With the amount of cursed energy you possess, you think you’ll be able to protect your friends from all the curses you’ll attract?”

You sink into yourself. As if a switch is flipped, his expression changes completely. There’s that familiar softness in his eyes again. God, the tea was making you feel so warm, too. One look from him and you find yourself melting. Even the Devil would swoon.

“Don’t you think fate brought us together?” he whispers. “Don’t you know how valuable you are to me?”

He almost sounds like he means it. Your rabbit heart speeds up when he strokes your collarbone with his thumb. A heady feeling consumes you and you force yourself to tear your gaze away.

“Look at me,” he demands, grabbing your chin again. He crowds your space, not leaving you any room to breathe. Your gut aches from sudden heat.

“God made you for me. Don’t you know that?”

Your mind goes blank as you nod slowly. He looks at you like he’s starved. No one’s ever looked at you like that before. No one has ever really looked at you before him.

“I’m— I’m sorry, Suguru,” you whisper.

He caresses your cheek, his breath tickling your jaw as he leans in.

“It’s alright, sweetheart. I understand what it’s like to feel a little stir-crazy. I’ll take you out more often, yeah?”

“O-okay.”

He grins and it comes off as sardonic.

“Such a spoiled girl. Only the very best for my girl, hm? I clothe her, feed her, make her stronger. And what do I get in return?” he scolds, thumb swiping over your quivering bottom lip. “She tries to run away from me.”

“I’m not,” you pout.

“You’re not?” he scoffs.

You don’t know what to do other than apologize. You were weak like that.

“You’re so good,” he sighs. “And you want to keep being good, is that right?”

“Yes,” you mumble.

You shiver again when he runs his fingers through your hair, his other hand undoing the ties of your yukata. You sharply inhale at the cool air hitting in your nipples, the rest of you trembling at the prospect of being so bare in front of him. God or prophet, you didn’t know. All that you know now is that there was no coming back from this.

“My good girl,” he whispers, nipping at your earlobe. “My best girl.”

You whimper when you feel his tongue on your jaw. His kisses are tantalizingly slow. Teasing. He marvels at the flutter of your lashes in response to his touch.

He had tried to deny those feelings in the beginning, but he couldn’t help it anymore. He feels as though he’s created you. He liked you delicate, lace winged. A butterfly caught in a jar.

Suguru thinks this is fair. He has always believed in fairness, and although one might argue that his philosophy is a direct contradiction to that, he could beg to differ. Different people had different values, that was all. You just happened to have an advantage in the hierarchy he holds in his head. A precious thing, his treasure.

When he turned his back on Jujutsu society by becoming a curse user, he would avenge the suffering of the sorcerers around him. Years of adapting to the taste of shit and vomit would eventually earn him something that made it all worth it. He’s convinced that something was you.

He was your savior, therefore you were his blessing. It was only fair that he could take you the way he wanted. You were meant to be found by him. You were meant to be kept.

You barely put up a fight.

You whimper when he parts your legs with his hands and finds you embarrassingly wet. Every stroke of his hands on your inner thigh has you twitching involuntarily.

“Oh,” he coos. “Look at that.”

You look away in shame, trying to close your legs, but he forces them open with a bruising grip. Your heart drops to your stomach.

“What’s wrong, baby? You want to be good for me, right?”

You nod without a word, trying to control your breathing. Your brain is telling you that you want this — you’d wanted to be his from the moment you saw him. Your body tells you the same, but dread creeps up your spine.

You gasp when he grazes your clit with his fingers. He plays with it, stares at your cunt through your underwear like it’s a prize.

“Let me see you,” he murmurs. “Don’t be afraid. I’m the only person in this world you can trust.”

He slips your panties off easily and you wince at the sound of your wetness sticking to the fabric. He applies more pressure to your bud, distracting you with his mouth on yours. You mewl into his mouth without realizing and he grins against your lips, slipping his tongue inside.

When you feel a finger push into your walls, you convulse in surprise, though you don’t pull away like he expects. You merely clutch him harder, your hands wrinkling the sleeve of his haori.

“Shit, you’re tight,” he rasps. “No one’s been here before, is that right? Just me?”

He groans when you look at him with innocent eyes and nod meekly. Of course he would be your first. You were nothing but a wounded dog when he found you, barely had a life of your own before he took you. You were pure and the world was keeping you for him. It was meant to be.

“S-Suguru…” you breathe. He’s pulled you into his lap now, your cunt getting his kimono wet. The slick of your cunt around his finger is enough to make blood rush to his cock.

“So pretty,” he mumbles. In one fell swoop, he takes you in his arms and carries you to the futon. You squeak in surprise at being lifted off the floor so quickly and so easily.

He takes the pause in his actions to undress himself, slipping off his robes, and when you see the thickness of his length prodding against his toned stomach, your mouth goes dry.

“C’mere,” he beckons. You obey.

He kisses you sweetly on your mouth and then down your jaw, squeezing your breasts. Your breath hitches as he takes the time to rub his thumb over your nipples. Suddenly, his teeth graze your chest. Biting, tasting. Forbidden fruit.

You let out a quiet moan and he chuckles. “So sensitive.”

Without a warning, he plunges two fingers into your cunt and you nearly cry out. There’s a choked noise, something in between pleasure and resignation. It’s all too much. When he adds a third finger and feels much less resistance, he laughs.

“Taking me so well. You’re doing so good,” he encourages before lapping at your chest again. When his fingers curl at just the right angle, your vision starts to get fuzzy. His thumb on your clit only intensifies the feeling.

“I c-can’t—”

“Hm? Use your words.”

“I’m… I’m gonna…”

His movements still and you nearly scream. He pulls back to see tears brimming your eyes and he kisses them away gently despite his cruel smirk.

“Nonono, please—”

“Please what?” He feigns innocence.

You bite your lip, your face too hot to feel comfortable expressing what you want. You feel the ghost of your curse wrap around your throat again. Once again, you find that the ticket to salvation has silky black hair and snake eyes. The artillery of a fallen angel disguised as something pure.

He can tell you’re frustrated but too afraid to voice it. You’re as pliable as he knew you would be. Endlessly easy to coax a reaction from.

“Do you expect everything to be handed to you? Just because you’re mine?” he taunts.

His. His. His.

You shake your head, whimpering.

“Then ask nicely, baby.”

Your cunt is on fire even though he isn’t touching you. When he strokes your lip and pushes his thumb into your mouth, you let him. Your tongue tickles his fingertip.

“Ah, so you still have a tongue. You can still speak.”

He laughs when you pout.

“Please touch me,” you say, your voice as quiet as a breeze.

“What was that?” He grins even wider.

“Pleasetouchme,” you whimper, your voice light as air.“Please�� please make me cum.”

“Good girl,” he chuckles, licking into your mouth. His fingers fuck you in earnest now. You feel so full that your eyes roll back. It’s cute.

Poor thing. Suguru is a patient man, but he’s not sure if he has it in him to wait. He could make you cum three more times so that you’re truly ready for him, but he doesn’t want to. He supposes that if he breaks you, you’ll thank him anyway. No one else wants you more than him, you had to understand that.

His cock throbs at the sight of you coming undone. It’s nearly animalistic, like provoking violence from weak prey. Cataclysmic like a falling star. He’s consumed with it, with the fact that he can do this to you and no one else can.

He fingers you through the aftershocks, too, until you sob loud enough that his other hand has to cover your mouth. You squirm underneath him, shaking your head in desperation.

He admires the slick of sweat on your chest, your glowing figure. When he releases you, he thinks briefly that you’re on the verge of passing out. But you tremble, rapidly breathing, eyes unfocused as your lashes flutter.

Suguru licks you off of his fingers and you stare in horror, returning to yourself. It makes him giddy, how even your spirit is infinitesimal.

“You taste so sweet,” he purrs. He kisses you roughly, tongue prying your mouth open and making you moan. “See? Sweet. You’re perfect.”

He likes seeing you all flushed. Glaze on your cheekbones. He thinks he should make you his wife, memorialize your fucked out form with a commissioned painting and hang it above his bed. A good luck charm among the talismans. You look too good to ruin with his cock, but he knows he’d already taken all of you anyway.

He’ll put you back together after. Pamper you with yuzu slices in a hot bath. Play the part of a boyfriend instead of a master.

He pins you down even though he doesn’t need to. You let him settle in between your thighs, his aching cock slapping against your stomach.

“So cute when you’re scared,” he chuckles at the look on your face.

“It’s… big,” you say meekly.

“It’ll fit. It won’t be so bad, yeah? I changed my mind about punishing you for trying to run away.”

Panic paints your features.

“I wasn’t trying to run away! I promise.” Your lip quivers again. Maybe he should make you beg.

“Is that right?” He leans in, precum spreading on the skin above your cunt, tip grazing your clit just slightly. You bite your tongue so you don’t moan from the sensitivity.

“Yes. I want to stay.”

“And why’s that?” he jeers.

“Because— because you’ve given me everything.”

He waits for you to elaborate.

“Because I’m yours. I’m… your good girl,” you slur through tears, voice above a whisper.

“Poor baby,” he hums. “Of course you are. Always will be.” Whether you like it or not.

You moan at the same time he prods his tip inside. When he sinks in even further, right to the hilt, he becomes delirious with need. It takes everything in him to not pound into you recklessly.

“Pretty fucking cunt,” he groans. “So warm.”

More hot tears, but your dread is replaced with rapture. He fills you up, already poking at the most sensitive spot inside of you. Your body ripples with pleasure as he moves and digs into your guts, an ocean of tender heat.

It’s a branding. You don’t exist if it isn’t for him.

“Suguru,” you moan.

He kisses your neck, teeth hard on your flesh. Pulling it taut while his tongue rolls in it and leaves mouth-shaped blessings.

His hips drive into you with more force, cock reaching places that your fingers could never reach. You shut your eyes and phosphenes float through the static of blackness. They linger when you open them again, Suguru’s face illuminating in grainy color.

It takes you a bit to realize his mutters, the way he’s babbling through moans.

Good fucking girl. All mine forever. I’ll die with you.

You let out a pitched moan as Suguru wraps his fingers around your throat. Every part of your body feels like it’s bursting. You cum like that, your walls outstretched by his thickness carving you out in the shape of him.

“Take it,” he grunts. “Take my cock. Fuck, I think I’ve been waiting for you my whole life.”

He’ll probably obsess over your cunt for ages. The face you make when you’re being used. Your ragdoll body.

His bun had come undone. Even if his cock wasn’t in you, your stomach would ache from how beautiful he looked. Eyes focused on you, nearly deranged at the way he was blistering you raw. The cascade of tears down your cheeks. It made him impossibly hard.

He pulls out quickly to flip you onto your stomach so he can rut into you from behind. The angle makes it so that his cock is even deeper.

“Oh, Suguru—”

“Yeah, baby? Gonna cum again?”

You whine, all high-pitched and girlish.

“Tell me you’re mine. That you’ll never leave me,” he grunts.

“I’m yours,” you hiccup. “I’ll n-never leave you.”

Your cunt was starting to burn, even with how wet you were. Suguru cums with a rough thrust at your words, nose buried in between the lovebirds littering your shoulder. You’re full of him. He doesn’t stop, his dick still hard inside you.

“Shit,” he hisses, looking down to see his cum oozing out of your pussy, all mixed up in your arousal. “How are you still so fucking tight?”

He grits his teeth when he feels you squeeze around him. You can barely form words now, crying as you can feel yourself about to cum again.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Cum for me, princess. Cum on that cock for me.”

You’re twitchier this time. Your moan tapers off into squeals as you bury your tear-stained face into the pillow. He follows after you with a gasp, his large body covering you like a cocoon.

He kisses the nape of your neck. Between your shoulder blades. His cock stills inside you, but he doesn’t pull out until he softens completely. When you stop shaking, he turns you over.

“There’s my angel,” he says fondly. “Thought you passed out on me.”

You shake your head. He smiles lazily, leaning to kiss you all over your face.

Your bones feel like jelly, but you still switch your positions with intent, and to your surprise, he lets you. Naked and breathing heavily above him, you examine him with his hair spread out on the pillow, cheeks flushed and cherubic. He almost looks innocent.

He groans at the way your leaking cunt grinds on his crotch, prompting him to get half-hard already. He grabs your hips at the same time you grab the base of his throat. He laughs.

“Do you feel powerful?”

You blink twice and your eyes glaze over.

In your vision, you see Suguru’s face flashing you his usual grin, this time showing all his teeth as blood drips from his chin. When you look down at your hands, they’re saturated in the same red. He kisses you despite it all and you understand.

“Yes,” you breathe. “I do.”

#geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru smut #geto smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #geto suguru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk fanfiction #jjk smut #ree.writing

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howtofightwrite · 8 months ago

Note

Have you read GRRM books? He claims swords needed to be “especially designed for women’s hands” how true is this?

About as true as all of those, “girl guns.” Because, as you know, a woman cannot hold a Glock unless it's pink or sky blue. Which is to say, not even remotely true.

You might get a situation where a child would be unable to operate a weapon designed for adults because the grip is too cumbersome, but even this is going to be something of an outlier. Even years later the Nicholas Cage's line from Lord of War (2005) sticks with me, when describing the AK he narrates, “...so simple a child could use it, and they do.”

Just like basically any other common grip you encounter in your daily life, from screwdrivers to steering-wheels and cell phones, selling smaller, or more colorful ones, is strictly a marketing gimick.

Now, is a legitimate context, but it doesn't really have anything to do with the wielder's sex. If they had the money, the time, and the desire for a perfect grip, they might commission a smith to produce a grip specifically for their hand. Though, the only place I've ever come across this was in competitive fencing. I have seen cases where someone modifies their blade's grip with tape or other materials to better fit their hand, or the addition of a leather (usually shagreen) wrap over their grip, but even that is somewhat unusual. (Shagreen is leather from a shark or ray, and it grips the skin, making it easier to hold, especially when wet.)

Ironically, girl guns do illustrate the one case where have some weight: Weapons as fashion accessories.

I know I've complained about weapons (particularly handguns) as fashion accessories in previous posts, but the truth is that using weapons like this is not new behavior. In the early modern era, one of the ways the rising middle class liked to display their status was with a sidearm. (In this case, referring to a sidesword or, later, a rapier.) I've looked specifically into women carrying sidearms at that point in history, but it really would not surprise me in the least if they did, and if there were, that at least some of those swords were specifically designed to be more delicate and, “feminine,” per their owner's tastes. (Though, to be fair, a more delicate grip on a rapier would be fairly impressive, as the grips tend to be pretty thin.) This is a case where you might want to look into it further, if it really catches your interest, but I've never really run this down before.

If you're still dubious, feel free to wander into nearly any HEMA event, and you'll have a better than average chance of a woman being willing to prove this idea false with a Zweihander, that may in fact be taller than she is. (Historically, Zwiehanders could be over 2 meters long, and chances extremely good that you're shorter than 2 meters.)

I know I'm regurgitating previous posts here, but it really is worth remembering that swords are much lighter than people think. Zweihanders are some of the heaviest battlefield swords from history, and even the heaviest examples weigh less than 9lbs. Women in HEMA can, and do, use them effectively. Swords aren't about being big and heavy, they're about being a (in this case) seven foot long razor blade.

Since we're on the Zweihander specifically (and this may also apply for some of the other greatswords, such as the Scottish Claymore), this is a case where you might have a custom weapon forged for you. However, in this case, that's more about the right blade length, then worrying about the grip being too thick or too thin. Ideally, you want the blade length to match your height (roughly), this is because of the drills with the weapon itself, though you could adjust to a longer blade if that's what you had.

Now, to be clear, the idea of someone, particularly a noble, having a blade custom forged for them specifically isn't strange. That's something that did happen, both at the noble's request, and also as diplomatic gifts from other nations. Examples of the latter resulted in beautiful art pieces that you would never take into battle.

If you had a situation where you couldn't use a sword because the grip was too large (for, whatever reason), there are ways to fix that. In an ideal situation, you could simply pop off the pommel and grip, and then replace the grip with one that was a better fit to your hand. If the tang itself was the problem (this is the metal core of the grip, and is part of the blade, which the pommel attaches to), you might be able to shave (or file) down the tang, and then replace the grip with a new one, fitted to the now smaller tang. I'm not particularly wild about modifying the tang directly, simply because there is a (minor) risk of reducing the structural integrity of the sword in the process. Though, replacing the grip (especially on a sword with a threaded pommel) is very doable, and unless someone, somehow, screws up catastrophically, it should be a pretty trivial modification. (Again, replacing a sword's original grip with a new shagreen grip does make a lot of sense if the owner wants that improved grip.)

But, to the original question, it's not really a thing.

-Starke

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#writing reference #writing advice #writing tips #how to fight write #starke answers

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tinyfantasminha · 2 days ago

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OC introduction

[Thank you @haryuwu, @stestylius-arts and @ai-kan1 for the templates they look so clean and organized and I love them 😋]

Personality:

At first glance, Vic comes across as reserved and ordinary, maintaining cordial relationships without actively seeking friendships. However, once she grows close to someone, her brighter, more playful side shines through—she’s witty, bantering, and a bit tomboyish. She dislikes feeling restricted and tends to rebel against rules she finds unfair or unreasonable. While she firmly denies being a "mom friend," (she repulses the thought even) her actions often tell a different story. She’s fiercely loyal, quietly looking out for her friends and always stepping in to support them when they’re in need, even if she doesn’t admit it outright.

Though Vic sometimes comes across as naive or a bit of an airhead, it’s often by design—she purposefully plays the fool, keeping others guessing about her true thoughts and intentions. Why does she do this? Well… whatever the reason, there’s more to her than meets the eye.

Backstory:

Vic was once a naive, pure-hearted child, eager to please and willing to follow anyone’s whims. That all changed after a traumatic incident during a school trip to the woods. A classmate told her, “Wait right here and don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Obediently, she stayed put, unnoticed by her teachers or classmates. Hours passed as she waited, terrified and alone, until she was finally found by school staff after her mother reported her missing. This event left a deep scar on Vic, and the phrase “I’ll be right back” still triggers a wave of unease in her. Afterward, her submissive tendencies only worsened. She believed that by doing everything people asked, she’d be liked and accepted, avoiding the risk of being abandoned or badmouthed. Throughout middle school, this behavior made her an easy target for manipulation and psychological abuse. By her final years of high school, something within her snapped. The years of mistreatment awakened a rebellious, sharp-edged side. Vic stopped letting people walk all over her, becoming grumpier, colder, and more distrustful. She built a fortress around her true emotions, frequently lying or feigning indifference to protect herself. Though she hated the version of herself her pain had created, she learned to survive in her own way.

After graduating, Vic celebrated the end of that painful chapter in her life and vowed to reinvent herself. But just three days later, her plans were upended when she was hit by a mysterious carriage.

After the events of the prologue and her enrollment at NRC alongside Grim, Vic was struck by the mortifying realization that she’d have to relive high school all over again. Adding insult to injury, she remembered that, at the time she was hit by the mysterious carriage, she had been on her way to celebrate her graduation with an açaí smoothie—a treat she never got to enjoy. To this day, she can’t help but lament the smoothie that never was.

Notable relationships:

Jack Howl 🐺

At first, Vic was intimidated by Jack, fearing he’d be as condescending and judgmental as her classmates from middle school. However, once she got to know him, his caring and loyal nature quickly won her trust. Because of her magicless status and petite stature, Jack’s protective instincts naturally kick in around her. He often escorts her across campus, which leads to them spending more time together and growing closer.

Vic admires Jack’s honesty and strong sense of justice—qualities she found rare during her school days. His loyalty and protective behavior deeply touch her, even when he tries to hide it behind his tsundere demeanor (which she secretly finds adorable). Around Jack, Vic feels safe in a way she hasn’t before.

As their bond deepens, they begin to pine for each other, turning what should be simple interactions into painfully awkward moments. Jack’s straightforward and genuine nature makes Vic’s carefully constructed mask of aloofness crumble in his presence, leaving her vulnerable and overwhelmed by her emotions. Her feelings for him force her to confront her fears and insecurities, often leaving her shaken.

"If only there was someone like you by my side back then… maybe I wouldn’t have…!”

Leona Kingscholar 🦁

Initially, Vic and Leona barely interacted. He seemed indifferent to her presence and quietly appreciated that she didn’t nag him or try to change his lazy ways. However, her frequent visits to Savanaclaw piqued his curiosity, and he couldn’t help but wonder if she was some kind of thrill-seeker. Her seemingly fragile, harmless appearance contrasted sharply with the boldness it took to linger in a dorm full of beastmen, leading him to nickname her “little mouse.”

Vic usually treats Leona with sweetness, but he sees right through her doe-eyed facade. Her true motives remain a mystery to him, and that intrigue makes him determined to unravel her secrets. To that end, Leona enjoys teasing and flustering her, just to watch her carefully constructed mask crack.

Leona is also keenly aware of Vic and Jack’s feelings for each other, which he finds highly entertaining. He takes great pleasure in cockblocking taunting them about it, using his sharp wit to nudge them closer to confronting their emotions. His teasing is particularly merciless with Jack, often warning him with sly remarks like, “You’d better keep a close eye on your prey, or she might just wander into the lion’s den.” What exactly does he mean by that? Who knows…

Ace Trappola ❤️ and Deuce Spade ♠��:

Vic’s first friends at NRC, Ace and Deuce quickly became two of her closest companions. The trio spends much of their time hanging out and bantering, creating a dynamic full of playful teasing. Her provocations often escalate with Ace, leading to occasional spats, though they’re always quick to reconcile.

With Deuce, Vic adopts a softer, almost sisterly demeanor, though she doesn’t hold back from teasing him—just not as intensely as she does with Ace. Around them, Vic maintains her cool, tomboyish exterior but will sometimes show emotional vulnerability when she needs comfort or support. Ace, however, never misses a chance to mercilessly tease her about her crush on Jack, much to her frustration (and embarrassment).

Idia Shroud💀:

Vic and Idia became friends through the Board Game Club, bonding over their shared interests and similarities. During club activities, they often team up to gently? bully and bicker with Azul, much to their mutual amusement. While Vic enjoys their camaraderie, their interactions mostly happen through DMs, as Idia’s shut-in nature makes face-to-face meetings rare—despite her frequent insistence that they hang out more in person.

Idia has developed a crush on her, which makes him even more hesitant to meet up outside of the club. He’s painfully aware (and secretly salty) about her preference for the athletic types in Savanaclaw, which makes his hopes—if he had any—practically nonexistent. For now, he keeps his feelings to himself, hoping to drown them. Vic, ever the supportive friend, often encourages him and occasionally flirts or gets touchy to tease him, delighting in his flustered reactions. Is she aware of his feelings? Who can say...

Azul Ashengrotto 🐙:

Vic initially had a strong dislike for Azul, finding his sweet-talking, calculating nature, and tendency to demand repayment for even the smallest favors uncomfortably reminiscent of her old classmates. She was openly hostile toward him, often meeting his charm with sharp-tongued, vulgar retorts. Yet, Azul remained undeterred.

Over time, as they spent more moments together in the Board Game Club, their constant bickering and competitive banter began to grow on her, almost without her noticing. She realized Azul was more "relaxed" during club activities, which made him easier to talk to. Vic now views him as a sort of rival, someone who challenges her wit and strategies, though neither likes to show vulnerability or weakness around the other.

If asked whether they’re friends, Vic will promptly deny it with a firm “no,” while Azul confidently responds with a smug “yes.” Despite their clashing personalities and opposing morals, they quietly look out for each other in their own way—remembering birthdays, exchanging souvenirs, and occasionally offering subtle gestures of support. Deep down, Vic knows Azul is an important friend, but she’d rather swallow a rock than admit it. Tsuntsun

Jamil Viper 🐍:

Vic harbors a superficial, puppy-like crush on Jamil, idolizing him and finding everything he does impossibly cool or impressive. Jamil, however, doesn’t seem to return her affections—or trust her, for that matter. He usually cuts her off with polite but firm indifference, which only seems to intensify her fascination, much to his exasperation. To Jamil’s dismay, Vic sighs dreamily whenever he’s cold or sharp-tongued with her (masochist much??) but gets utterly confused and flustered when he shows any hint of worry or care for her.

While Jamil would never admit it, he doesn’t entirely dislike her attention. Her admiration strokes his ego, and perhaps—just perhaps—he’s considering how he might use it to his advantage... t this doesn't seem very healthy...

Rook Hunt 🏹:

Like most people, Vic initially felt uneasy around Rook’s overly flamboyant and romantic demeanor. She couldn’t understand his fascination with her or his flowery praise, often responding to his compliments with pragmatic retorts or modest deflections. However, as time passed and she recognized the sincerity behind his words of encouragement, her wariness faded, and she began to trust him more.

Knowing it’s nearly impossible to keep secrets from Rook, Vic sometimes reluctantly vents her frustrations and insecurities to him. In turn, he offers thoughtful advice and unwavering emotional support. He nicknames her “Mademoiselle Fantôme” (ghost) and seems to see right through her composed exterior.

Like Leona, he’s aware there’s more to her than meets the eye and enjoys analyzing her hidden depths. Rook takes particular delight in evoking various reactions from Vic, describing her as a “kitten with hidden claws,” always intrigued by her blend of aloofness and fire.

Trivia:

While Vic appears tomboyish and sisterly with the first years, Jack is the exception. Around him, she’s notably sweeter and more bashful.

The more nervous or flustered she becomes, the higher-pitched (and more pathetic) her voice gets.

Vic used to be close with her older sister, a prosecutor. Her strong sense of justice and argumentative nature were heavily influenced by her sibling.

When heated, Vic becomes highly argumentative, delivering well-constructed, logical points to dismantle her opponent’s stance—a rare display of bold confidence.

Her dream is to become a detective/investigator.

Vic doesn’t get angry often, but when she does, it’s described as a “cold, merciless ire with sharp words that could make a grown man cry” (Ace’s words).

Though she’s a bit of a coward and dislikes confrontation, her quick thinking and improvisation often help her slip out of sticky situations. (Both Leona and Rook take notes on her sharp survival instinct.)

Despite her unassuming appearance, Vic has surprising leg strength and flexibility from self-defense classes she took as a child. She claims she’s rusty and fell out of practice for the most part, but her kicks prove otherwise.

Her birthday (February 4) is the same as Cater’s, so their celebrations are often combined in Heartslabyul. Cater affectionately calls her his “twinsie” and refers to her as “cute lil sis.”

Floyd nicknames her “Axolotl” and teases her relentlessly about her height. He especially enjoys being overly touchy with her in Jack’s presence.

Vic occasionally treats herself to Mostro Lounge visits to gossip with Jade, often about Azul’s defeats in the board game club. Jade uses this intel to tease and blackmail Azul later.

The Light Music Club adores pampering her and repeatedly begs her to join as a singer, but she always flusteredly declines.

Like Ace, Vic can be mischievous and a bit greedy. She shamelessly accepts Kalim’s generous offers of money (though she hopes Jack doesn’t find out...)

Vil intimidates her to no end with his sharp gaze, but she secretly admires him and dreams of having him give her a makeover someday. Rook frequently (and gleefully) tries to push her to approach Vil, much to her horror.

Malleus believes they are closer friends than they actually are, often due to misinterpreting her words and actions. Vic, too kind or maybe scared to correct him, finds herself roped into his gargoyle monologues during their awkward little outings.

#twisted wonderland #twst oc #twst mc #twst yuu #yuu/mc #twstvic #hi its been almost 3 years since i introduced her properly and i compelled 2 months worth of shower thoughts in this #NEW DESIGN REVEAL *party pops*#i swear im rlly fucking embarrassed about the coffin icon bc i didnt know what else to do. but i also didnt want to leave it blank #''oh shit whats one characteristic that deeply resonates with her character and will make ppl look at it and immediately think of her''#''its......its the ahoge isnt it.......''#is it blatant obvious the mystery novel protagonist syndrome here (coughnhbs not aceattorney or umineko inspired at all 😇#i encourage asks if youre curious about anything else abt her !! hehe #myart

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georgiapeach30513 · 8 months ago

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With Your Touch, Part 3

Summary: you had rules.

Pairings: Lloyd Hansen X Reader

Rating: mature

Warnings: explicit language, teasing, The Verb, grinding, spanking, tension, 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 5.2K

Series Masterlist

*dividers created by @firefly-graphics

Lloyd didn’t lie. Being an early riser, you thought you would see him, but alas he had already left. You walk into Lyla’s bedroom, and see her still sleeping soundly. Her little lips pucker out looking all comfortable and cozy. Her fingers twitching makes you watch her a bit longer. Seeing her already relaxed in this very new environment. Unaware of whatever her mother did to get her here. It’s refreshing to think that she won’t ever remember the life before now.

How could a mother do that to her child? Well, a baby. And Lyla is the sweetest little thing. You had heard her cry a few times in the middle of the night. Even woke up. Listening as Lloyd walked to her room and soothed his daughter. The part that got you was after her cries had stopped he lingered in there a bit longer than you thought necessary. Thinking that maybe he had just been watching her.

It is foreign and yet still one of the sweetest things. You had heard about daddy’s girls, and father’s that adored their daughters. But in this world, you’ve never seen it. Why was he so different? And why did his behavior intrigue you so much? And the dumbass brought up your daddy issues. You did not have daddy issues. Your mother did a great job. And you had a stepfather. He wasn’t terrible. But he did treat you differently than your brother.

You didn’t have daddy issues. That much you know is true. You just had a soft spot for…something. You aren’t even sure what you’re feeling. What you’ve been feeling since being in his apartment, but you are going to blame it on Lloyd. It truly was him. What the fuck even was that last night?

Softly closing her door you venture into the kitchen for some coffee. You need it this morning. What even was that? Why did you — feel? That was the weirdest experience. Something that should have made you uncomfortable, or at the least pissed you off, but it did not. In fact you went to bed confused, and uncomfortably turned on. That shouldn’t have happened, and it did. And you’re left with lingering questions that you have no brain capacity to answer currently.

You couldn’t believe that you allowed this man to command you. Not just you physically but also mentally. Because yes, you had stayed up way too late running the events through your head. He made you ramen noodles. You had pasta with him twice. In one day. And now you’re being such a girl and overthinking everything.

But how could you not? He called out your lack of panties. Was he offering sex when he said if you wanted more than a dildo? That is what it seemed. Thoughts run rampant in your mind as you take a sip of the bitter brew. Moaning at how just the smell alone was waking you up. Sleep evaded you because of these fucking thoughts. And he had to know what he was doing. He mentioned spanking you!

Was he on a power trip? Or maybe it was more than that. And you sound crazy again. You were here to do a job, and that’s what you need to do. Hearing Lyla squeak out some cries, you pour the rest of your coffee down the drain, and walk towards her room. Giving her a big smile when you walk in, and she answers by pouting that lip out and whimpering.

“Oh my goodness. Did Miss Lyla Bee not sleep well, princess? Come here,” leaning over the crib, you pick her up. Holding her close to your chest, you bounce the baby around until her little cries stop. “Are you ready to get you changed and ready for the day? We have such a big day, you and me. We’re going to have some belly time, and we’ll go on a long walk in the park. And you’re probably going to sleep and drink your milk all day.”

She gurgles up at you, and even though she can’t talk, you just know you’re going to enjoy being here with her. There is a thing or two you could learn about yourself by keeping Lyla.

“Peekaboo!” Leaning over Lyla, you pull your hands away from your face waiting for her squealing laugh as the cutest toothless grin smiles up at you. Using your hands to tickle her sides before you hide your face again.

”Peekaboo!” She giggles so loud, kicking her feet around. Eyes shining up at you. She is adorable. All dressed up in her luxurious baby outfit that is full of pink. She may look sweet and adorable, but this is already her second outfit for the day, and she couldn’t even crawl. “You are a messy little thing, you know that?”

She laughs again. Clenching her fists together. “But you are cute!” More laughter rings out from this tiny little thing on the floor. Using her body to roll over onto her belly, and she lifts up her head to look at you, “I am new to this, and I don’t know if this is normal, but I want to celebrate you rolling over! Oh my gosh, that is so cute. Do it again,” you flip her body over, and she quickly rolls back onto her belly.

Lifting up to look at you with a gummy smile. “Why are you so cute?” You squeal, laying on your belly to look at her. “I think you are the most adorable and smart baby in the world, did you know that?” Her mouth opens and closes a bit. Giving you a look of pure adoration, and you soak it all up.

“You don’t do much, but what you do do is incredible. And,” you give her a quick boop to her nose, and she lets out what you could only assume is a giggle, “Yes, you are so cute, and you have your daddy wrapped around your little finger. Yes you do. Do you know if your daddy is dating anyone? He’s a bit…he’s different, ya know?”

“Lloyd!” Ari shouts behind his colleague, and the man turns to glare at him. “What are you doing looking at your phone?” The wider man grabs the device out of his hand, and starts laughing as he looks at Lloyd, “Oh, I see.”

“You see my daughter. Now give me the fucking phone back.”

“No, I see creepy Lloyd watching his daughter’s au pair. Laying on the floor with her ass perfectly placed. Imagine she was naked looking back at you with those innocent eyes. Lifting up that perfect ass for you to rail into her,” Lloyd rolls his eyes. Locking his phone as he settles down in the chair in front of Ari, glaring at him.

“You haven’t thought about fucking that?”

“‘That’ like she’s a possession.”

“Oh, come now, has Lloyd Hansen grown a conscience? You’ve got to be kidding me. You got you a baby girl, and now you want to value women? She’s living in your fucking apartment, and you haven’t even tried?” Ari didn’t need to know exactly what happened. He’d never hear the end of it.

“Didn’t say that,” Lloyd begins, but shakes his head no. “It’s fucking complicated, you know? She’s Roman’s spawn. And she has a job to do, and none of that requires bobbing her mouth on my cock. She is there to watch Lyla Beatrice when I can’t,” Ari smirks, nodding his head, and not believing anything that Lloyd says.

“She’s not a whore wanting to be used.”

“How do you know that?” Lloyd didn’t know that. In fact what he did know was you were obedient, and reacted to him. He could feel the heat wafting off you. Could smell your scent change when he set you on fire. The Verb could not possibly give you all that you deserved in any way shape or form. There is no way that he could treat you like both the princess and slut that you craved.

“She’s got a,” Lloyd wants to retch for even saying the words in the same sentence. “A boyfriend,” Ari lets out a long chuckle, framing his beard with his fingers as he watches the usually in control Lloyd. “And he’s a damn problem.”

“Why is that, sunshine?”

“Because he wants to assert dominance over me. In my fucking house! They’re mine.”

“Who is yours Lloyd?” Ari’s mouth turns up into a devilish smile, and Lloyd pounds his fist on the desk. Ari truly didn’t understand the predicament Lloyd had placed himself in, “Easy there. You wouldn’t want to show your dominance by your temper tantrums.”

“Lyla and her au pair are mine,” he speaks through his teeth. Contemplating on the ways he could get rid of The Verb. It wouldn’t be long. He couldn’t handle staying away from you. He couldn’t possibly know what it takes to be a man that has to be away. He’s young and needy. Stupid and impulsive. It was a matter of time before he messed up.

“So you just want to own her?”

“I pay for her,” Ari purses his lips as he squints at Lloyd, “And I sound like an ass. No, I don’t want to own her.”

“You want to devour her.”

“Shut up,” Lloyd is never the one to concede an argument, so Ari lets it go. Realizing there is much more to whatever is bothering Lloyd, and his lingering obsession with watching you.

Just as he starts to speak up, he gets an alert on his phone, and he grabs it up immediately. Having nothing to do with his job, but there he is. The Verb. The ingrown hair on his perfectly round ass. Standing at the door of his apartment while you hold a slowly drifting asleep Lyla. You stare up at him with a bit of fear in your eyes.

“I will enjoy slowly murdering that boy.”

“You could just show him who is boss,” Lloyd places a finger over his mouth as he turns up the volume. He needs to see your reaction to The Verb being there.

You gulp as you stare at Chase. Giving Lyla a quick glance as you rub a finger over her soft cheek. You need to remember you have a child in your hands, and unfortunately she is about to be used as a barrier.

“You shouldn’t be here,” you don’t even fully open the door. Lloyd was very clear on his rules, no Chase in his home. “I’m working,” you add in, looking back down at Lyla who had fully drifted to sleep. What could you do to wake her up? Keep her interfering in this conversation that wasn’t going to end well for someone.

“Is the weirdo here?”

“Don’t call him that.”

“Fine, is the neurotic nut job that was staring at you like a personalized sex doll here?” Chase had no idea what had transpired between you and Lloyd last night, but you couldn’t forget, and feel a bit annoyed that Chase would use such words against your employee.

“Well, no, he’s not, but,” Chase pushes past you into the front door, and you check the baby to make sure she is still sleeping. “Chase, you can’t be here. There are rules, and…”

“You always follow the rules precisely as they're given,” he falls back onto the lush couch, pulling up the remote. He even turns on the TV. This isn’t going to be good. You just knew Lloyd had cameras all throughout Lyla’s room, probably everywhere you would be with her. Most definitely had a camera on the front door.

“You are always the type to shut up and listen when it comes to a man in authority. Do you know why?”

“No, but you’re going to tell me,” Chase always fancied himself the smartest person in the room. He graduated a few years ahead of you as a psychiatrist. He always assumed that you wanted him to diagnose you. You didn’t. You wanted to have fun, and let off some steam. You didn’t care about his psychoanalysis bullshit. You were doing just fine.

“Because your father left you. Your mother never took up for you concerning your step father, and now you want to be perfect. Hoping that one of the three will not only notice, but will praise you for your good work. It’s why you took this job. You’re in no way equipped to raise a child, but daddy asked you to. So you obliged, and here you are. Of course he stuck you with some weirdo that was looking you up and down, and all I see is my girlfriend being in a place where she is going to let a man she doesn’t know dictate what she needs to do because he’s become your replacement for your father who never loved you apart from being an accessory. And a step father who loved his son, and tolerated you, and a mother who looked at you like a burden because she couldn’t have her perfect life with her new husband.”

“You’re a fucking asshole, you know that? All of that was not necessary. I didn’t even ask for it. You just opened your arrogant mouth and told me, and it's not true,” he throws both arms over the couch, giving you a cocky little grin and it infuriates you. “It’s not. And I told you months ago I didn’t want to be analyzed.”

“Because you know I’m right. Poor little rich girl. You’re no different than the rest of us. Our parents fucked us up in the head, and now we’re doing what we must to survive. Except you have become a glorified babysitter, and if that jerk has it his way, a blow up doll for his enjoyment,” how could he even say something like that? Like you didn’t even have agency on what you wanted.

“The man pays well, but you’re still under the thumb of a man in power.”

“Is this what this is? You don’t get to power me, so you’re trying to wear me down in hopes that you can?”

His bright blue eyes stare too long at you, while you look at Lyla. Despite the conversation at hand, she remained sleeping peacefully. “Put the baby up, and quit using her as a shield. You know that I’m right, and you’re now refusing to make out with your boyfriend because of the man in charge told you I shouldn’t be here, huh? It’s not your rules, but his. And you’re going to make sure you follow every single one of them. Now, put the baby in her room, and talk to me like an adult. Or are you too scared?”

“She wasn’t held enough when she was with her mom, and she sleeps better when she’s being held.”

“Excuses. Excuses, Dolly,” he almost sneers at you when you pop your sight in his direction. “Go on, go put the baby up. I love when we get into our little debates, and I don’t want to wake the sleeping cherub. Go on,” you didn’t want to have the conversation, or wake her up. And with the way Chase is right now, you’re going to have to do one of them.

You spin on your heels, and walk towards her bedroom. Giving her forehead a kiss before walking back into the living room, and Chase rubs his thighs. Rebelling just enough you sit on the couch beside him, but pull the remote out of his hand, turning off the television. “I told you that you shouldn’t be here.”

“We’re debating.”

“No, you are. And Lloyd doesn’t want strange men in his house. And…”

”I’m your boyfriend. I think it’ll be okay. It’s not like I’m some stranger. We’ve had fun this past year. And,” he pulls your legs over on top of his, running a smooth hand up your thigh before he lifts himself up. Pushing you to lay flat on your back while he hovers over you. “What are you scared about?”

“Losing a job.”

He presses his mouth against your neck as you start to melt a bit. Feeling the heat from his body, coupled with the intense tension you still felt from last night you weaken, “Daddy dearest won’t let that happen,” he whispers against your neck, and you throw all caution into the wind. Lloyd is at work. You aren’t doing anything in front of his daughter. He couldn’t keep you from Chase.

Chase’s thigh goes between your own, and he chuckles when you start to grind on him, “You’re always so needy, sweetheart,” you want to cuss him, and tell him to just get a quickie in. Anytime he talks the paranoia slightly kicks back in. Paranoia, frustration, and being horny isn’t the best combination.

“Shh,” you moan, pulling his mouth towards yours while your fingers fiddle around with his stupid pants. Who needs pants anyways? Stopping a bit to rub over his growing bulge while you mewl his name. “Chase, I…”

He has your panties and leggings halfway pulled down your legs. His hand running through your slick when the front door to the apartment slings open, “I thought I gave you very explicit instructions. The Verb goes immediately!”

“Lloyd,” pushing Chase off your body, you sit up, and stare down at your bare legs. Biting at your lip, and looking between the men. “He was — he was just visiting, and…”

“I said no!” He leans towards Chase getting his face inches away from your boyfriend’s, and his whispered threat is more menacing than any of his yelling, “I said go immediately,” Chase looks at you, saying your name, but you shake your head, “Now!”

He screams so loud you can hear Lyla’s pitiful whimpers from her room. It takes Chase a beat too long to stand up. He buttons up his pants, and gives you a regretful look, but you stare down at your legs like a scolded child. Still afraid to move even though you're exposed when Chase walks out the door, leaving you alone with your neurotic boss.

“I thought I told you…”

“I’m sorry,” your voice is meek and hardly audible, and your eyes never meet his. “He barged in on me. I didn’t ask him to, and he was insistent, and — Lloyd, I’m sorry,” he takes a step back from you. Glancing down at your pants, and barely there underwear before he looks back into your eyes. “I didn’t…”

“I can make sure he never bothers you again.”

“I don’t want you to kill him!”

“And I thought I told you not to be out of your room with no panties on,” your body straightens up, and you glare up at him. Daring to make due on the promise he made you last night. “Stand up,” you shake your head no, and before you can count to three Lloyd is sitting on the couch, and pulling your body over his lap.

Your hands cover your backside, in hopes of not being so exposed, but he swats them away. Gritting through his teeth before he holds both your hands behind your back, and your ass as naked as the day you were born right there for him. “Please, Lloyd, don’t.”

“You knew the rules,” his voice growls as he slaps your left cheek hard. “Count,” you stay silent, and he smacks the other cheek, “I said count, goddammit.”

“Two!” You cry out only to hear him laugh. “Two!”

“You missed the first time, so we’re starting all over again. Let’s make this quick, Dolly, my daughter needs you,” smack! You blubber out one, and his hand smooths over the sphere of your ass with a smile, “Good girl. Now let’s get to five, and I’ll let you get Lyla Bee, so we can have a little talk. Okay?”

“Okay,” you whine, and he spanks you again, “Two.”

Slap. “Three,” this is humiliating, and the worst part is you didn’t hate it. He is giving you more attention than your father or stepfather ever did. Smack. “Four,” it stings, and burns, but when you look back at him, he has a proud smile on his face, and you arch your back to push your ass more into his view.

Spreading your legs a bit so he can also see between your thighs, and you get the hardest slap yet. His hand lingers on your ass, and those large fingers stroke the tender skin softly, “Five,” you weakly say, and he pulls you into a standing position right in front of him.

His face completely facing your exposed core, and he pulls up your panties first. Grinning up at you before the black leggings are pulled up your body, and he taps your hips a few times, “There, there, you did such a good job,” he isn’t even flinching, or looking up at you. He continues to stare at your covered pussy, taking slower, deeper breaths as he inhales your aroma.

“I believe Lyla is still crying. Why don’t you go fetch her,” his voice is so even and deep, showing no emotions as to what just transpired. How is he so calm? “Dolly, you have a job to do,” those eyes look up at you, and his pupils are so wide, very little of the blue is peeking through. Just deep pools of black. Giving him the appearance of being high from spanking you, “Dolly, I need you to get my daughter.”

Giving him a nod, you walk into Lyla’s room, and her sweet face is turned up, and she swishes around trying to find someone that is normally there to comfort her. Been with Lloyd for such a short time, and is already spoiled on touch, “Hey, miss Lyla Bee,” her lips tremble as she looks up at you, trying to calm herself.

It isn’t until you pick her up, and hold her close to your chest that she starts snuggling into you. Calming down even more, “Oh, honey, I’ve got you. I’m right here,” Lloyd listens to your sweet words to Lyla as he cracks his neck. You were going to be the death of him. Twice he took things too far.

But he did warn you what would happen if you didn’t have panties on. And dammit you were right there looking so pretty and…he shouldn't have looked, but he did. Delectable is the perfect word to describe that moment. And you weren’t all innocent in it. You enjoyed it. He could tell from the heat pulsating off your core, and the wet spot that lingers on his leg. You wanted him to see your cunt, so he did look. Trouble. You were the devil for him.

“There’s your daddy,” you coo, bringing Lyla into the living room with you, and she gives Lloyd a sweet smile. “Tell him that you were asleep the whole time.”

“Dolly, do you know why I don’t want that boy here?”

“Because your jealous? Oh — um,” you press your hand over your mouth, wondering if putting your foot in your mouth was an option. “I mean…what I meant to say is…”

“I don’t get jealous. I can have whatever the fuck I want. And what I want is for my daughter to be safe. You may not know it because I’m keeping you and her away from my business, but I am a feared and known man. I have many enemies, and people willing to pay millions of dollars to see me crumble. They want my weaknesses. They want to see me tortured slowly. And do you know what my weakness is?” You shake your head no as you look at the coffee table. Unable to stare at him, and you’re not even sure why.

It is hard to even look at the sweet girl’s face that you’re holding. You feel ashamed. You did have the one rule, and Chase was seeing to it that it was the one that was broken. “My weakness is that tiny little girl in your arms. And you by extension. I have to trust you.”

“I get that, I really do, but —“

“There’s no buts here. There are real people who will not hesitate to kill you or Lyla. Do you understand that?”

“I do. But Chase isn’t one of them, and you want me to break up with him, and —“

He is always interrupting you. He never lets you finish a thought before he tells you what is going to happen. “Keep the fucking asshole. I just don’t want him in my damn house. And just for the record,” Lloyd reaches over towards you to get the baby. Moving his gaze to her instead of you. Almost like it pained him to see you. “You deserve more than that boy can give you. He’s an asshole.”

“You don’t know him,” you only feel like defending him because hearing someone call Chase an asshole reflected on your choice for keeping him. It is silly, but it’s the truth. Chase had his flaws, but he wasn’t all bad.

“I heard what he said to you,” you look up at him, figuring he had cameras in the main rooms, and Lyla’s room. It shouldn’t surprise you, but realizing Lloyd heard Chase’s psychoanalysis was heard by Lloyd is infuriating. “Even if it's true, he shouldn’t have said that to you. You’re not his patient, so don’t let him treat you like one,” he slowly stands up. Leaning over to hand Lyla back to you. “I’m going back to work. Don’t make me regret not spanking you five more times. I mean what I say. Panties off in the bedroom. Panties on out here.”

Lloyd stomps back towards the door. Never giving you and Lyla another glance as he hurries out of the apartment. Sighing as he adjusts his jeans. Trying to ignore the uncomfortable feeling he had dwelling between his legs. He wouldn’t allow that moment to be a weakness. You had no effect on him. None.

Lloyd’s dark gaze finds you as you walk out of your bedroom. Wincing on your way into the living room, but you walk past him and into the kitchen. You didn’t know what to say to Lloyd. You had betrayed his trust. He saw you a bit more intimately than he needed to. There’s a lingering embarrassment in the pit of your stomach, and your damn ass hurts.

Grabbing out the things to make a quick snack, you turn around, and there he is. Still glowering at you. His brow is still low on his forehead as he watches you get out different noodles than the first night. Clearly, you and Lloyd had a noodle thing. “Would you like some butter noodles, too?”

“If you’re offering,” he responds solemnly, and you answer with a curt nod. He won’t apologize to you, of that you’re sure of. You just would have to put your foot down a bit more concerning Chase.

“Where do you all have cameras?”

“Anywhere that Lyla will be,” there’s no emotion in his voice, it's just the factual evidence. You aren’t sure where to take the conversation from there. Standing in silence is crippling. It’s like the air in the kitchen is so thick you can’t even breathe. “How is your, um, your ass?”

You snort as you glance back at him. He isn’t as quick with averting his gaze from the subject at hand. “It’s sore,” well, what else are you supposed to say? It feels amazing, thank you for showing me who is boss. I promise to never disobey you ever again.

“Do you understand why I did it?”

The spoon falls onto the counter loudly and you saunter over to the kitchen island where he resides, and lean over it, demanding he looks at you. He does, but his chin is still jutted up. He’s still in control, “Please, don’t try to parent me. I’m a grown woman.”

“People who say that are often trying to convince themselves of that. I’m not parenting though. I have my rules, and I expect you to follow them. That’s strike one. The only reason you’re still even here is because of Roman,” you begin to speak, but he smirks, shaking his head, and you immediately stop talking.

“You do know how to listen, even if it’s not words, I’m impressed. You are Roman’s daughter, and he has been loyal to me. I really don’t give a fuck about him not being present in your life,” his mouth twitches, and you slowly retreat from him. He stops you by wrapping a hand behind your neck, holding you in place. “He knows who I am, and trusted me with his precious daughter.”

“He was just a sperm donor.”

“And for some unknown reason, I like you,” your eyes brighten, and a slight smile pulls up your mouth, “Don’t get to excited, Dolly,” he slides over a tube of cream, and you glance down at it confused, “It’ll help your ass,” is he giving you some form of relief? He sees you uncomfortable and is offering aftercare. Not at all what you had assumed of Lloyd Hansen.

“I should finish the noodles,” you finally pull away from him leaving the cream untouched on the island as you separate the noodles into the bowl. You slide over his bowl, but remain standing as you take a bite.

“Are you struggling to sit down?”

“I think that’s quite obvious, Lloyd.”

“The cream would help.”

“Then why don’t you put it on me since it was you that caused it?”

Lloyd takes a slow bite of his buttery noodles, and then another. Keeping those cool blue eyes on you the entire time he finishes his bowl before letting his fork drop into the bowl with a clink. He stands up, walking around you as he cleans up the mess you made before his body towers behind you.

Leaning his head around you until his mouth is right at the shell of your ear, “Put it on yourself,” he starts to walk back to his bedroom before stopping in the doorway of the kitchen, “Make sure you clean up your mess,” even though you can’t see his face, he smiles. He still had control. And if you want him to put anything on you, you need to learn how to ask with manners. He wouldn’t be commanded. He was the one in control. Despite the strain in his pants. Fucking nymph.

You exhale, not even realizing you had been holding your breath. Sweat beads around your hairline, and you struggle to control your breathing. What is he doing to you to make you feel so…weak? Did you actually want him to see your ass again?

“Ugh,” you groan as you put away your dishes, and grab up the cream. Stopping outside of Lloyd’s bedroom when you hear the shower on, and an angry groan. Moan? You aren’t sure. He sounds like he’s not happy with his shower.

If he wanted to ice you out while also exposing you, you could do the same. You let a phone call from Chase go to voicemail. You weren’t in the mood for his games, or even whatever brand of medicine he had to offer. You are sore, and still left —

Wanting.

Needing.

Fuck Lloyd Hansen.

Masterlist

Taglist: @tis-thedamn-season @marveloustaylortot @pono-pura-vida @peaches1958 @seitmai @smile1318 @andydrysdalerogers @cjand10 @midnightramyeoncravings @kmc1989 @floral-recs @pandaxnienke @theinheriteddutchess @rainydayandmondays @buckybarnesisdaddy @patzammit @xoxo-ls @rebeccapineapple @slutforchrisjamalevans @marvel-wifey-86 @jesevans @ughdontbeboring @infantasywonderland @vampy-doll @i-like-to-read-13 @missacidburn928 @charmed-asylumasylum @honeylovelyy @superflannel @hisredheadedgoddess28 @ughdontbeboring @lostinspace33 @abbyyourlocalmilf @saranghaey

#with your touch #lloyd hansen #lloyd hansen x reader #lloyd hansen x fem!reader #lloyd hansen x female reader #lloyd hansen x y/n #lloyd hansen x you #lloyd hansen fic #lloyd hansen fics #lloyd hansen fanfic #lloyd hansen fanfiction #the gray man #chris evans #chris evans character

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rottenpumpkin13 · 4 months ago

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Sephiroth doing things that clearly Hojo would do but they're not evil or blatantly concerning, they're just weird

*Zack cuts his finger and gets blood everywhere*

Zack: AH!

Sephiroth: Hm. Intriguing.

Lazard: I wonder how I can remove this stubborn ink stain from the conference table.

Sephiroth: I have some industrial hydrochloric acid in my possession that should do the trick.

Lazard: Why THE HELL do you have that!?

Sephiroth:

Lazard: ANSWER.

Angeal: Hey, do you wanna go get lunch later?

Sephiroth: To satiate hunger is to delay the decay of the flesh when it is not fed. The true feast lies beyond the veil of mortality.

Angeal: Thank you, I'm terrified now.

*Genesis is in the middle of a training exercise*

Sephiroth: Note to self—Genesis’ desire to become a hero can be used to manipulate his actions. Offer him praise for heroic acts to reinforce his behavior while subtly directing his actions to serve your own goals.

Genesis: .....

*Genesis is sipping a can of apple juice when he suddenly starts coughing*

Sephiroth: Note to self—It seems the dubious recipe concocted by a child is a potential source of disease. Not surprising.

Genesis, eyes watering: SHUT UP

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #zack fair #angeal hewley #genesis rhapsodos #ffvii crisis core #crisis core

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multifandom-nerds-blog · 7 months ago

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I'm rewatching Trollhunters in the background right now, and the disfunctional mother son relationship between Jim and his mom is making me crazy.

Like, he's taking care of the household and his mother for years as a teenager and before probably. She is sometimes giving half hearted comments about him not having to do so much, but very obviously she's not gonna make him stop do all the cooking and cleaning. Y'know. Both because they've been living like this for years, and because it's obviously also very comfortable to have someone do all the house work.

Then Strickler comes into the picture, and if we ignore the whole Troll and changeling side of the story, Barabara gets very offended cause Jim doesn't want her to meet him privately. Again, ignoring the whole magic and trolls stuff, STRICKLER IS JIMS TEACHER. If Jim hadn't figured out that Strickler was a changeling he probably wouldn't have a problem with it, but the fact that he does, no matter the reason, should be enough for Barbara to put a stop to the relationship. Her child is clearly uncomfortable with her seeing/dating that guy, for whatever reason, and even clearly vocalized it. But she doesn't care about, or rather, she tells Jim that she "wouldn't expect something like that" from him. Obviously not, cause she may see him like her child/teenager he is, BUT DOESN'T TREAT HIM LIKE ONE.

And then Jim, unknowingly to Barbara, becomes the Trollhunter, and his behavior changes. He's suddenly doing reckless stuff, sneaking out, getting bruises, landing in detention and even at the police station, barely avoiding a police report. What does she do? Asking him what's going on? If everything's alright at school? If he has any other problems? Maybe trying to lower his workload around the house, which again, he's doing most of that as a teenager and longer probably.

Nah. She doesn't do anything until he lands in the hospital. Except for again, dismissing him rather negatively at the one topic he's openly expressing any negative opinions about (Strickler). And after he lands in the hospital she now starts not asking questions, but demanding answers. Demanding answers from a teenager in a difficult situation who is also now acting much more like a teenager than he ever did before, from her point of view at least. Except she obviously doesn't know how to deal with a teenager, cause she has never had to raise or live with a teenager. She instead lived with a child pretending to be an adult for years, that was partly much more of an adult than she was, who did way to much work even before Jim became the Trollhunter. So she throws punishments at him and grounds him, but does he listen?

No. Cause why should he? Not only is he dealing with things much more important than being grounded, yknow, saving the world, he's trying to protect her from the sheer knowledge of the supernatural and physically protecting her from getting harmed. And again, for the majority of the time since his dad left he pretended to be an adult. He was and is the main adult in the household, dealing with important things she doesn't even know about.

The only one's treating Jim like a teenager are teachers, other children and Blinky and Aaargh sort of when they're not in the middle of Troll business. Strickler, in the first episodes where Jim doesn't know about his true identity, is much more of a parental figure to Jim (also after his redemption later on tbh) than his mother.

In summary: Barbara is treating her son like an adult, almost like a partner, instead of a child/teenager. And when that isn't possible anymore she doesn't know how to properly treat him. She also doesn't really care that her son is uncomfortable with her being around Strickler, or Strickler in general. And it takes Blinky telling her (when Jim is 16) that Jim might be affected by his father leaving when he was five years old.

Jim meanwhile is treating his mother more like a child/teenager instead of the adult and MOTHER that she is. Seeing her as his responsibility. Cooking for her. Cleaning for her. Telling her to rest and take breaks.

They obviously love each other other. And their relationship might not be toxic, but it's very much disfunctional. In a way that is mostly negative for Jim.

#toa #toa trollhunters #trollhunters #jim lake jr #jim lake junior #barbara lake #walter strickler #trollhunters strickler #tales of arcadia #blinky #aarghhh #trollhunters blinky #Barabara; just because Steves mother has a relationship with one of his teachers and it working out between him and her son #Doesn't mean it's gonna work out for you #If you're a parent and your child is uncomfortable with a partner of yours #YOU BREAK IT UP #Especially if your child is still living with you #Seriously #Okay I know trainer Lawrence probably only became Steves stepdad later in the series #And they also had to work some things out first #But at least they didn't try to kill each other and trainer Lawrence was actively trying to be a good parent/friend to steve #And don't get me started on “A vespa costs so much”: YOU'RE A DOCTOR #Don't know much about new jersey or wherever the show takes place but doctors earn good money almost everywhere #Especially with how much nightshifts and over time hours she has #Not being sure about your 16 year old driving I understand #But don't try to excuse it with money when you're obviously not poor and he's been wanting it for so long that you could've easily saved up #The money till his 16th birthday #Okay I ranted about this long enough #Also the fandom is dead so nobody will read this probably #Byeee

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imagining-in-the-margins · 2 years ago

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Autistic Spencer Reid

Happy Autism Acceptance Month, everyone! By request, my wonderful friends and I have taken on the daunting task of documenting the reasons why Spencer Reid is considered Autistic. Big thank you to you @spencer-reids-adventures and @foxy-eva specifically for their help. We hope everyone enjoys! This is not an exhaustive list.

Stimming/Self-Stimulatory behavior, including rocking/spinning in his chair, twiddling with his fingers, gripping sheets, bouncing his legs, biting his lip/tongue, rubbing his eyes, spinning pens, pacing (e.g., S6E12 "Corazon")

Averse to touch, dislikes hugs (S7E13 "Snake Eyes" & S11E11 "Entropy")

Explains multiple attempts at masking, including "being more conversational," (S2E19 "Ashes and Dust"), scripting conversation (S15E4 "Saturdays"), saying what people want to hear (S6E20 "Hanley Waters")

Verbosity - Difficulty recognizing when he's talking too much/speaking at inappropriate times (e.g., S1E16 "The Tribe" & S10E16 "Lockdown")

Began studying behavioral science to understand behavior that made him frustrated/confused (S11E22 "The Storm")

Averse to hosting/hanging out in his space; didn't invite his friends to his apartment for over 15 years (S15E9 "Face Off")

The only team member capable of proficient communication with other Autistic people (S6E16 "Coda" & S11E22 "The Storm")

He is referred to as Autistic by multiple characters, including a literal profiler, and does not deny or question it (S1E5 "Broken Mirror" & S8E3 "Through the Looking Glass")

Lack of social awareness, such as focusing on a convention while at a workplace shooter crime scene (S7E3 "Dorado Falls")

Various special interests, like Doctor Who (S6E16 "Coda" & S7E23 "Hit")

Literal thinking, such as focusing on scientific accuracy of a star-based fable (S5E13 "Risky Business")

Difficulty recognizing common phrases, such as the "sitting in a tree" song (S3E14 "Damaged") or jokes (S7E9 "Self-Fulfilling Prophecy" & S1E8 "Natural Born Killer")

Makes inappropriate references, such as to Derek's playboy behavior (S1E18 "Somebody's Watching") and Rossi's age (S7E13 "Snake Eyes")

Coordination/Spatial deficits (S1E17 "A Real Rain" & S8E6 "The Apprenticeship")

Hyperfocuses on a task to the point he doesn't notice his surroundings (S5E20 "A Thousand Words")

Unusual/hyper-specific pedantic language (S3E6 "Remembrance of Things Past")

Resistance to change, manifested as a luddite dislike of technology (S6E7 "Middle Man" & S8E4 "God Complex") and struggling with Gideon's death (S10E14 "Hero Worship")

He receives (apparent disability) accommodations to be in the field (S6E10 "What Happens At Home...")

Introverted, difficulty sharing emotions, even with his closest friends (S10E13 "Nelson's Sparrow")

Heavily bullied as a child (S3E16 "Elephant's Memory")

Difficulty making friends (S2E1 "The Fisher King Part 2")

Trouble with eye contact, which persists throughout the series

His mother is schizophrenic, which has a strong genetic link to Autism

Dislikes small talk (S8E3 “Through the Looking Glass”)

Enjoys memorizing lists (S7E11, “True Genius”)

Savant skills - eidetic memory and hyperlexia

Matthew Gray Gubler has also explained that, regardless of the canonical confirmation, he views and portrayed Spencer Reid as Autistic. Specifically, he stated:

"He's an eccentric genius, with hints of schizophrenia and minor autism, Asperger's syndrome. Reid is 24, 25 years old with three Ph.D.'s and one can't usually achieve that without some form of autism." (Note: Asperger's is an outdated term with Nazi origins, which is now referred to as a part of "Autism Spectrum Disorder" by most countries)

DISCLAIMER: I am Autistic, as diagnosed when I was a toddler. These thoughts are my own and shared for fun. If you disagree, please make your own post about it rather than posting them here. This was a labor of love for fans like me and those who love Autistic people and the characters like us. Thank you for respecting and understanding my boundaries!

Looking for more to read? Check out my Autistic headcanon posts for Penelope and Hotch!

Thank you everyone! 🌈♾️❤️

#spencer reid #autistic spencer reid #spencer reid autism #autism acceptance month #autism acceptance day #world autism day #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid criminal minds #spencer reid headcanons #spencer reid character study #dr spencer reid

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devildomwriter · 9 months ago

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Our Greatest Hope | Obey Me Short Story

1.4K | GN! AFAB! Reader x Diavolo | CW: Mentions of parenting, labor, aging, faith, slight angst

There has never been a being like your son. Half human, half demon, with angel blood. What will he become? Can you lead a child with such power and influence down the right path, will he be like his father or will his human side make him vulnerable?

“I’ll never let harm come to you. The world will be yours my dearest son. You are our greatest hope. Surely a child born of three worlds will be the one to unite them.” The promise left Diavolo’s lips as he held your pregnant stomach, head resting against it.

True to his word, your son would have everything he could ever need.

At first, it was scary. Diavolo’s mother had died giving birth, even with all their magic and advanced technology, giving birth was still dangerous. The one who gave birth to the devil’s son would always come across some misfortune during pregnancy or labor, whether it be constant nausea or intense labor pain. You and Diavolo knew this and though he was more hesitant than you, you decided to bear his child.

Would his Human side hinder him or help him? Would he age just as quickly as a human, and die just as easily? Would his wings and horns be pronounced? Would the Devildom accept a Cambion with angel blood as their true leader?

So many worries plagued your mind but the instant you first saw your son, your worries melted and were replaced with love. Your son was different from the beginning. He did not cry or laugh when he was born, he was silent and his tiny squinting golden eyes were observant of everything.

Diavolo cradled both you and your son during your duration in the Demon Lord Castle’s medical wing. After a few weeks of observation you could return to your room with Diavolo and your child stayed in his crib near your side.

He was still quiet. He never cried in the middle of the night but sometimes when you went to check on him he’d be awake. Bright eyes looked around the room before locking onto you and reaching out his hands.

His silence worried you and Diavolo at first but after a while, he began trying to mimic your words and eventually, he learned to call for you through infantile shouts rather than crying.

After a few months, he cried for the first time. His horns were coming in. Unlike his father whose horns grew from the sides of his skull, his horns protruded from the top of his forehead and grew upwards, slightly arched back.

By a year his wings took form. He only had one pair, they were larger and black with a slight red coloring like his father’s. By a year and a half, he looked like a true demon. Appearing human and hiding his wings and horns was too much to ask of a small child so you hid them with magic whenever you visited the human world, friends, and family.

When he was two years old he became a big brother and his sister was nothing at all like him. She was loud, fussy, and demanded attention, and when she wanted something she cried, she could fake her tears after a few weeks.

Your son did not understand this behavior, he was confused and you often found him in his bed with a pillow over his head. He had the senses of a demon, so it was inevitable he’d hear his sister cry. You did not get much sleep during this time nor did your husband, Diavolo.

As soon as your son could crawl he was trying to follow his father to work. If Diavolo stopped walking, so did your son. He was his father’s shadow before he even knew this was his duty.

When he was old enough to understand Diavolo had a private talk with your son, explaining what was expected of him as the prince. Although he did not quite understand the gravity, your son knew he was important and that he needed to be like his dad. Thus, he became even more of Diavolo’s shadow.

His sister however did not follow in his footsteps, for this reason even though he was barely more than a toddler he became his sister’s keeper, and eventually his brothers’ too.

In a way, he saw his siblings as practice. He needed to be a good example and a good leader, but he was still a child. Even though he’d always been mature for his age, it was still easy to give into temptation and his sister was an excellent demon, convincing him to wait up for Santa, to sneak snacks from the kitchen, to stay up late, and more.

In some ways, it was a relief to see him act like a child but Barbatos became worried and attended to your son’s younger siblings more so that Diavolo could focus on bringing up his son.

Diavolo was an anxious mess during his son’s formative years. Was he doing this right? He didn’t have a father to turn to. He wasn’t sure if his father was so strict with him for his own sake or if he was resentful his wife had died to birth him. Was he supposed to be very strict with his son? He didn’t want to be neglectful but his son needed to grow on his own too. There were so many contradicting points when it came to being a good parent and a good king.

Your son was sometimes confused too. He knew his dad didn’t like to scold him but he knew his dad was worried he wasn’t doing things right.

Your son had been perceptive from the moment he was born. He knew more than you and Diavolo could have imagined and the older he became the more you understood this.

You never saw him study Latin but he knew the language fluently, you never told him about the brothers’ history but he knew it as well as you, there were so many things you discovered about him every day and as you did so he was learning something else.

You would never forget the horrified expression on your young son when his father showed him the most critical part of their job—to judge and punish souls. Why did a dog killer go to heaven and an orphanage director go to hell? Because of faith? Why was this fair? He was meant to be the opposing side to the person who created everything. He was at a disadvantage from the start. He was meant to be evil and govern all forms of it but your son was nothing like that.

He did not embody evil, he did not embrace evil, and he did love a prank or two but he never started them. He wasn’t chaotic like his father. Like his father he was considerate but like you, he was so very human.

Indeed the son of the demon king and the future ruler of hell had a human heart and a loving soul. A soul so pure he could ascend to the Celestial Realm. As happy as you were your son was a good person and yours and Diavolo’s parenting had shaped a humble prince and not an arrogant one, only time would tell if this human heart was fit to rule hell.

Thanks to your magic and your vows with Diavolo, you lived a very long time. Thousands upon thousands of years and Earth ended and began anew many times. Each time you, Diavolo, and your son worked hard to bring this new generation of humans to peace with your realm. It worked every time but as Revelations determined, evil rose and a faction of demon rebels would invade the earth. The angels and two humans would defeat them and the bridges would slowly be mended again and again.

Your son disliked this even more than Diavolo. He was done with human suffering, with demons being the blame, and with angels blaming all demons when only a few were responsible.

Thousands of years later when your son took the crown he would be the shining example of peace between the realms. A demon king with the blood of the three worlds, with him, his trusted siblings, leader of the Celestial Realm Seraphim Luke, and the many angels and sorcerers he’d befriended, one day the worlds would see eternal peace.

Those words his father spoke to him as he was still within your womb stayed with him long after you and Diavolo ascended to the Celestial Realm, “You are our greatest hope. Surely a child born of three worlds will be the one to unite them.”

Now nearly a million years old, your son looked at the portrait of you and Diavolo and smiled to himself as he held his own son in his arms. “You did well, you may rest now.” He said softly. His wife came up behind him, his young daughter squirming in her arms.

“Your sisters and brothers are here,” she let him know and he nodded. His daughter sprang free from her mother and clung to his leg. He smiled and held both her and his son as he descended the palace stairs to meet his family.

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