#I do have a tendency to do things in what I call phases | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

scuderiahoney · 4 months

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Always Walk Me Home

Max Verstappen x Reader // Strawberry Wine Pt I

Strawberry Wine Series

Masterlist

Summary: You and Max are keeping things casual. Sooo casual. You can be casual. Right?

Word Count: 4.3k

a/n: Heeeeere we go, his number is in my bio for a reason, it’s my other favorite boy! This one is heavily inspired by some of the prompts on this list. anyways enjoy!

Warnings: alcohol/mild intoxication, mild sexual references, google translated Dutch

Things with Max are… brand new. Everything is still fresh. Everything he does gives you butterflies, makes your heart skip a beat. It’s the honeymoon phase, as everyone calls it.

It’s so brand new that nobody knows. Nothing is… official, yet. You’ve just been on a few dates, had a few movie nights. You’ve stayed at his place a couple times, waking up with his arm around your waist and Jimmy and Sassy curled up next to you. It’s casual. You’re keeping things casual. Max seems content to feel things out, to keep seeing you without labeling it. You’re trying so hard to be casual about it that it’s almost embarrassing.

You feel like everyone sees straight through you. On top of spending time alone together, you and Max are friends, so you see each other at group outings and clubs and dinners with your other friends. Max acts the same there as he always has- kind, courteous, and friendly. You won’t lie, sometimes you wish he’d hold your hand or pull your chair out for you or something, anything to show you that you’re not the only one feeling less than casual. But you’re scared of scaring him away, so you keep your mouth shut.

…..

You’re out to dinner with friends, somehow ending up sitting next to him. It’s nice, really nice. You can smell his cologne, can feel the warmth radiating off of him at the packed table. You have to fight the urge to nudge his foot with yours, to press your knee against his. That wouldn’t be very casual of you. You can do this, you can be normal.

He’s saying something to the person next to him, laughing and leaning towards them. You want to be the reason he’s laughing, want to be in on the jokes. You keep your mouth shut and look at the menu instead.

“What are you going to get?” Max asks.

He’s suddenly in your space. He’s leaning close, his shoulder brushing against yours. Be normal. You shrug, sliding your finger down the menu.

“Probably the shrimp scampi,” you say, pointing at the item.

Max nods. “You love seafood.”

You blink, breath caught in your chest. He’s right, but you didn’t know he knew that. Let alone for him to say it as fact. It’s not like he’s whispering either- someone else could hear. It’s silly, because it’s such a small thing, but you’re overanalyzing everything about it.

“I do,” you agree, turning and smiling at him.

“I remember things,” he says, a soft smile on his face, and now your face is growing hot.

Someone draws his attention away, and you look back to the menu. You nearly yelp in shock when something brushes your knee, but- it’s Max, you realize with a start, his hand searching for something. You hold your breath. His fingers find yours, and he interlaces your hands, palm to palm. He keeps them resting on your leg.

You try to take even breaths. He’s holding your hand in public, with your friends right next to you. Sure, it’s under the table, but this is the most you’ve gotten from him in a setting like this. He’s held your hand on dates, done much more in the privacy of his home, but here it feels overwhelming. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand, and you resist the urge to hold on so tightly to him that he can’t let go.

Eventually the food comes, and you both let go so you can eat. But it was nice while it lasted.

…..

Max’s apartment is spacious and cozy, despite the fact that he’s gone from it so often. There’s a warmth here, an aura that just screams Max. His cats roam freely, though while you’re there they have a tendency to follow you around.

“They are traitors,” Max accuses as Jimmy and Sassy weave around your ankles in the kitchen.

“Maybe I’m just better than you,” you say.

“Oh, you are,” he says, sending up a swirl of butterflies in your stomach. “But I feed them. So they are traitors.”

You laugh, leaning down to pet the cats. They nudge their heads against your hands and legs, paw at your socks, and when you walk into the living room, they follow after. Max just watches with disappointment.

By the time he joins you in the living room, drinks in hand, both of them are curled up in your lap. He lets out a huff and sets the drinks on the table. Then he’s nudging at the cats, and you cry out when he pushes them both off your lap.

“Max!” You say, appalled.

He laughs, lays down on the couch, and promptly placed his head exactly where the two cats had been. He stares up at you with a wide grin, eyes squeezed nearly shut.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hi,” you answer.

He reaches for one of your hands. He squeezes your fingers softly before bringing your hand up to his hair. You laugh and take the hint, start running your fingers through the blonde strands. He lets his eyes fall shut. Then you watch as he brings his hand up, purses his lips, and points at them.

You take that hint too, lean over and plant a kiss on his lips. When you try to pull away, he wraps a hand around the back of your neck and keeps you there. He deepens the kiss, fingers slipping into the hair at the nape of your neck to hold you there. It’s not the best angle, but it’s nice, always nice to kiss him.

He finally lets you go and collapses back into your lap, a satisfied smile on his reddened lips.

…..

“I can’t open it!” You squeak. “What the fuck, how do they make it look so easy?”

You’re holding a bottle of champagne in your friend’s apartment, trying to get the cork out. It doesn’t help that you’re scared- one too many horror stories about someone getting a cork to the eye, or breaking a window. You huff and try again, gently. No use.

“Lando slams it on the ground,” your friend suggests, her eyebrows raised.

“Yeah, and he also shattered one of Max’s trophies,” you say. “So maybe not the best example.”

You hear familiar laughter, then, and you drop one hand to your side, still holding the bottle in front of you with the other. Max makes his way through the kitchen, a smile on his lips that paints his whole face. You hold it out to him, pouting.

“No, no,” he says. “I’ll show you.”

He wraps his hand around yours, around the bottle. You can’t lie, your mind goes somewhere else for a second, but you tamp those thoughts down and try to focus.

“See, you put this hand on the cork,” he instructs, “and this hand on the bottom.”

His hands are warm over yours. Your face feels hot. Does he feel the sparks when his skin touches yours, too? Or is this normal for him? Is it just a friend helping another friend? You wish you knew, wish he’d say something to quell your worries and calm your racing heart.

“-and then you twist, like this,” he demonstrates.

The bottle hisses, and you jump, but there’s no dramatic pop, no shooting of the cork. You just pull it out, and you stare at the bottle with wide eyes. Oh. That was-

“Easy, right?” He says. “You are already a pro.”

You laugh, shake your head, and hold out the bottle to your friends, standing there with their empty glasses. You want to study their faces, ask them if they noticed anything. You want to ask if they saw the sparks, too. Someone takes the bottle, and your hands fall to your side, the cork still between your fingers.

Your knuckles brush against something- when you look, it’s Max’s hand. He’s still standing there, watching as everyone passes the bottle around. You swallow tightly, bump your hand into his. Deliberately. You want to look up at his face, want to gauge his reaction, but you resist the urge.

Max reaches his pinky out and hooks it with yours. For just a moment, standing in the kitchen, surrounded by your friends, you’re linked. The sparks run from his finger, up your wrist and arm and straight to your heart. Your chest fizzes like the champagne, bubbly and overflowing.

…..

You weren’t even planning on seeing Max tonight. It’s a girls night, one that’s been suggested over and over, each of you being too busy to make it happen until tonight. You’re at your favorite bar, bass thudding in your chest, your friends all around you.

And then, there’s a tingling feeling in your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Someone is watching you. You turn over your shoulder and lock eyes with Max.

He’s leaning against the wall, one ankle crossed over the other. He has a black t-shirt on that’s always been one of your favorites- it hugs his upper arms and his chest so perfectly. He’s watching you, a soft smirk on his lips, a drink in his hand. Everyone is moving around you, but you’re stuck on him.

You smile, wave, and force yourself to turn back to your friends. You like him, you want to spend time with him, but you’ve been neglecting your friendships because of it. Your friends have been teasing you all night about how you’ve been too busy, how you keep checking your phone, how there must be a guy. You’ve denied it at every turn. You can’t leave them now. Ditching your friends for the guy who isn’t even your boyfriend would be the opposite of casual. You force yourself not to look at him, but you swear you can still feel him staring.

Ten minutes later, a bartender appears with a tray of shots and lime wedges. “For you,” she says, pointing at you, and your friends squeal in excitement. She points behind you, then. “From him.”

You turn over your shoulder again. Max is watching, and waving this time. You laugh and wave back, and your friends all do the same. He’s far away, too far to make it in time as you each grab a shot and throw them back in unison. You put the lime between your lips and turn to look at him again, raising your brows. He laughs, eyes lit up so bright you can see the blue even across the room, you swear. Then he juts his chin in the direction of the hallway when nobody else is looking. A message just for you.

You find him out there ten minutes later, trying not to make it obvious and taking the time to come up with an excuse- you fake a phone call. The hall is empty when you walk out, and you wonder if he’s given up on you- you know you saw him walk out. Then he pops his head out from around a corner and waves you over frantically.

He’s leaning against the wall, the same way he was in the club. You stand against the wall on the other side of the hallway and stare at him.

“I’m not leaving right now,” you say. “I promised I’d stay out late.”

“I know,” he says. “Just wanted to see you.”

You tilt your head. “Yeah? Seeing me across the bar wasn’t enough?”

The tequila running in your veins has you feeling braver than usual. It doesn’t seem to scare Max. He just grins wider, brow quirked.

“No, it wasn’t,” he says. “You’re pretty from far away, but even prettier up close.”

Your face feels hot. He pushes off from the wall, leans towards you. He could box you in if he wanted, could pin you right there, but he doesn’t. Instead, he takes your hand in his and pulls you away from the wall, too. The kiss he sweeps you into is sweet. He wraps his arm around you, and you sling yours around the back of his neck. One of his hands cradles the side of your face as he deepens the kiss. Out of all of it, you’re much more focused on the feeling of his thumb on your cheek than the feeling of his lips on yours. It’s strangely intimate, strangely soft, the way he holds you as he kisses you in the hallway of a bar. The way his nose nudges against your cheek, the way he pulls you closer and closer like he can’t get enough.

He pulls away, leaves you gasping for air.

“You taste like lime,” he says.

You nod, dumbfounded.

“You should go back to your friends,” he suggests, kissing your temple. “If I keep kissing you I won’t want to let you go.”

You breathe out a laugh and slap his shoulder. “If you keep staring at me in the club I won’t be able to focus on anything else.”

He laughs. “I know,” he says. “That’s what makes it fun. Besides, you’re fun to watch.”

…..

Three days later, Max is holding your purse. He’d taken it from you when you were all standing in the lobby of the restaurant and your friend dragged you into the bathroom. He’d promised to keep it safe. Now you’re back, your friends are gathering their things and saying goodbyes, getting ready to go home. You’re watching him.

The little black bag looks even smaller in his hands. His fingers are wrapped around the clutch, thumb rubbing back and forth across one of the stitches the same way it had on your skin the night before. He’s talking to someone else, but when there’s a break in the conversation, you nudge him.

“I can take that back,” you say, holding your hand out.

He tilts his head, blinks softly. “That’s okay. I’ll carry it.”

You’re sure you’re staring at him like a deer in the headlights. “Okay, but I’m leaving, so I need my purse.”

He nods. “I thought maybe I could walk you home. If you wanted.”

You nod in response, feeling a bit dumbfounded. The two of you exit the restaurant, waving goodbye to your friends. He takes your hand the second you’re outside, your purse still in his other one. Your fingers knit together like second nature, now. You could predict the pattern of the brush of his thumb against your skin like clockwork.

Your apartment isn’t far, but you find yourself walking slow on purpose, prolonging the moment. You pass people on the street and you know that to them, the two of you look like a real, actual couple. It’s nice to pretend. You lean into his shoulder, and he stumbles and laughs and keeps both of you upright. The two of you talk the whole way there, about everything and nothing and all the stuff in between.

When you reach the apartment building, he finally holds your purse out to you. You open the clutch, digging through it to find your keys and the front door access card. He watches in amusement as your fingers fumble through the bag.

“D’you wanna come up?” You ask. “I have some of that wine you like.”

You pull the card triumphantly from your bag. You look up at him, and he’s smiling softly, something sparkling in his eyes that makes your breath hitch. Makes the champagne bubble in your chest all over again.

“That’s okay,” he says, softly. “I’ve got to get back to the cats. But can I take you to breakfast tomorrow?”

You blink, card still pinched between your fingers. “Yeah, sure.”

He tilts his head at you. “Maybe brunch. You are going to need sleep. How about you text me when you wake up and we’ll go from there?”

You nod. He nods back. Then he reaches up, cups the side of your face in his hand. He’s so gentle about it, more so than he normally is. When he presses his lips to yours, he tastes like gin and he kisses like… like he cares for you. Like this isn’t leading somewhere else, like he’s not going to pull you into his lap and start trailing kisses down your neck. He kisses you just to kiss you, just to say goodnight.

“I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says when he pulls away. “Goodnight, liefje.”

You smile up at him. “Goodnight, Max.”

He smiles back. Then he leans forward and presses his lips to your forehead softly. You swear you’re melting into the sidewalk. You must be a puddle under his feet. You want to press yourself into his chest, tell him to wrap his arms around you, ask him to never let you go.

But you’re trying so hard to be so good at being casual, so you kiss his cheek, turn around, and walk inside. You take the elevator up, leaning against the wall and covering your giddy smile with your hand. When you get into your apartment, kick off your heels, and drop your bag on the counter, your phone buzzes. It’s a call. You look at the screen and see Max’s face.

“Hello?” You answer.

“Did you get in alright?” He asks.

Your heart squeezes fiercely in your chest. He sounds so soft, asking it. You walk over to the window, peel back the curtains, hoping you’re right about what you think you’ll see. There he is, still standing in front of the entrance, phone to his ear. He’s staring up at your window. When he sees you, he waves.

“Yeah,” you say. “You didn’t have to wait, you know.”

But I’m so glad you did.

“Yes I did,” he says, voice soft and scratchy from the night out. “Had to make sure you were safe.”

“Okay,” you breathe. “Let me know when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” he says. You watch as he waves again, smiling up at you. “Goodnight.”

…..

He picks you up for brunch the next day. By the time you’re in his car, it’s nearly 10:30. He drives with his hand on your knee, like always, fingers dancing across your exposed skin below the hem of your sundress. You like watching him drive, like being here with him. He pulls up to the restaurant and runs around to open your door for you, leaving you laughing. He hands the keys to the valet. Then he slips his arm around your waist and leads you inside.

You’ve been on dates with him, but none this fancy, none where you feel a little out of your element. Max seems comfortable, though- it’s moments like these where you’re reminded he’s not just your-friend-Max. He’s F1-world-champion-Max-Verstappen. Of course he can get a reservation here with such short notice. They’re honored to have him here.

A waiter leads you to a booth in the back. The restaurant is bright and airy, fresh flowers on every table. Max asks for a pitcher of water and orange juice before the waiter leaves. He pulls your chair out for you, pushes it in when you sit down. Your palms are sweating, heart beating rapidly. It’s just- this is the closest you’ve come to feeling like you’re actually dating him. Suddenly, it’s terrifying.

You ask him what’s good on the menu. He points out his favorites- the French toast, the eggs Benedict, the omelettes. He tells you he’s going to order a fruit sampler for the two of you to share, and you smile softly.

“They always have the best strawberries,” he tells you, eyes lit up. “You love strawberries.”

“I do,” you tell him, warmth filling your cheeks. “You do too.”

You’d bonded over that, when you first became friends. A strawberry wine that nobody else wanted to drink. Too sweet. You’d split the bottle with Max and went to bed with a sugar rush, your lips still tasting like strawberry. Ever since, for every special occasion, the two of you have gifted each other that same strawberry wine. It’s a running joke, among your friends- you’ll open the bottle, ask if anyone wants a glass. They’ll ignore you, but Max will come running.

He opens his mouth to say something, but over his shoulder, you spot something that makes your blood run cold.

“Shit,” you mutter.

He looks at you in concern. “What is it?”

“Nothing, just-“ you sigh. “Your coworker is here.”

Charles Leclerc has just walked in the door, a girl on his arm. The waiter is pointing in your general direction, towards an open table a little ways away. There goes your whole morning. He’s going to want to leave now.

Max turns to look, brows raised. “Oh. At least it’s one I like.”

You can’t help the laugh. “Should we go?”

Max turns back to you, perplexed. “What, get up to say hi? I don’t like him that much. He’ll come over here when he sees us.”

Us. You wish he meant it how you want him to.

“No, like-“ you sigh, gaze flickering down to the table. “You don’t want people to know, so-“

“What?” He asks, wide eyed. “What do you mean, I don’t want-“

“You didn’t want to tell anyone,” you say, quietly. You can’t look at him. “We haven’t even really talked about this, and… I figured you…”

You trail off, because you can feel him staring at you. He reaches over and tucks his finger under your chin. He tilts your face upwards towards his. His gaze is soft, a small smile on his face.

“Schatje, you have to be joking,” he says, and you stare back at him. “Of course I want to tell people. I have wanted to tell the whole world since I kissed you the first time.”

You blink. “But you- you didn’t want to put a label on it. You never…”

“We never talked about it,” he says. “I was giving you time. I’m a lot. Dating me is a lot. You are… I was following your lead.”

“Oh my god,” you blurt out, a giddy feeling in your chest. “Oh my god, I’m so dumb.”

The two of you just stare at each other for a moment. His eyes are bright and sparkling, his smile spreading across his whole face. You’re so done being casual.

Charles appears at the end of your table seconds later, smiling at the two of you. “Max, hi, good to see you. And I’m sorry, I don’t think we’ve met,” he adds, turning to you.

“Charles, this is my girlfriend,” Max says, reaching across the table to take your hand.

When you greet Charles, you can’t wipe the giddy grin from your face. It stays there the whole rest of the day- through breakfast, through a walk through a park, through a late lunch at Max’s with the cats winding around your ankles. Every time it starts to fade you think of Max, bright blue eyes, his finger under your chin. You fall asleep still smiling. You’re pretty sure it’ll be there when you wake up.

…..

The next time you go out with your friends, Max carries your bag the whole night. He also keeps his hand on the small of your back nearly constantly. He orders and pays for all of your drinks, includes you in all the conversations, and brushes his lips against your temple every time there’s a lull in the talking.

Nobody questions it. None of your friends even bat an eye. You find out why when you end up in the bathroom with the girls, a tradition as old as time itself.

It turns out they all already knew.

“Max told us all the day after he kissed you the first time,” someone tells you. “And then he told us we all had to act like nothing was different, because he didn’t want to scare you off.”

You collapse into a fit of laughter, bracing yourself against the sink. All this time, you were worried about it, and he’d told everyone right away. You’d thought you were the one struggling to be casual. God, you’d have saved yourself so much trouble if you’d only asked. If you’d only told him straightforward what you wanted. If you’d only been up front.

You’re giddy with it, then. You can feel it coursing through your veins and buzzing in your fingertips. You won’t call it love yet, at least not out loud. It’s too soon, right? It can’t be love. But it’s something, and now you want him next to you. You want his lips on yours again. You’re missing him even though he’s just through the door, waiting for you, your bag in his hand.

When you return to his side, you lean up to press a kiss to his cheek. You watch his smile grow and his cheeks turn red. You place your hand on his shoulder and put your lips against his ear.

“You should take me home,” you tell him.

His cheeks get even redder, and he turns to you. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say with a nod. “You’ll walk me home, right?”

“Always,” he agrees.

He takes your hand, squeezes lightly. You feel like you’re glowing brighter than the neon lights above your head.

…..

You slip up over your morning cup of coffee three days later. The cats are in your lap. There’s the perfect amount of cream and sugar in the mug, he’s made it exactly right. The sun is shining through the windows, bouncing off his hair and painting his skin in golden light. You weren’t going to say it out loud, you really weren’t, but it slips past your lips anyways.

“I love you,” you say.

Max laughs, takes the mug from your hands, and kisses you.

Then he says it right back.

read the prequel/ sequel, Someone Sane

okay, now I’ve got my three favorite boys in the masterlist! thanks for reading! come say hi, or check out more of my writing here. drop an ask or a dm to be added to the tag list!

taglist: @4-mula1

#max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fic #formula one fic #formula 1 fic #formula 1 x reader #f1 fanfic #max Verstappen #fanfic #max verstappen fluff #fluff #honeywrites #mv1 #strawberry wine verse

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incorrectbatfam · 3 months

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Types of obnoxious batfam stans

Written by an obnoxious batfam stan

Not really a rant but something I've noticed over the years interacting in different spaces and I've decided to make your problem now.

Please note that I'm not saying there's any "right" way to be a fan because we all suck by virtue of being comic nerds, but there are certain kinds of batfamily fans that stick out to be in particular.

Anywho, here are 12 kinds of annoying batfam stans that you've probably run into and you better get a laugh out of it *points gun to your head*.

1) The Newbies Who Never Heard of Google

There's no shame in being new to something. It's a phase that we're all guaranteed to go through, whether we're 11 or 101. However, in this day and age, so many things can be easily googled that you don't need to shout every question you have into the VVorld VVide VVoid. If you need comic recs or a reading list, google it. If you wanna know a character's origin story, google it. If you need to know the color of Batman's underpants in a particular issue in 1965... well that's probably too specific for Google but Reddit will definitely have an answer.

2) The Middle School Authors

Before the 13-year-olds get up in my notes, I'm not saying everyone that age writes like this. Middle school is a state of mind. These fanfic writers usually stand out in a few ways.

They're oftentimes first-person POV or reader-insert. Give Y/N a break, she's tired.

The grammar is stunningly atrocious. I get if you're inexperienced or if you're writing in a second language, but we are in the prime era of autocorrect. If you need help, it's right there. Also, fuck c*nsoring b*d w*rds and fuck "unalive."

The characters do things that are out-of-character because the author is projecting their own personality. Bruce Wayne is a lot of things but he does not listen to the fucking Mountain Goats.

There's a lack of experience or research when it comes to certain topics. That's not how physics works. He can't walk that injury off. And that's definitely NOT how you do the horizontal hokey pokey.

3) The Neckbeards

Unfortunately, these basement-dwelling mouth-breathers tainted the image of what a comic fan is, though that's been changing recently. Still, we've all seen them. They gatekeep via pop quizzes, 'cause obviously you're not a real fan unless you know what page 10 of Batman #138 smells like. They give unsolicited commentary on people's cosplays, nitpicking the guys and being gross toward women. And heaven forbid the comics add a little diversity.

4) The Moviegoers

Nothing inherently wrong with getting into the fandom via the movies, nor is there anything wrong with sticking to that. I just feel like we're two different species of Galapagos finches, you know?

5) The Christopher Nolans

Separate from casual fans of the Nolan movies. I'm calling them the Christopher Nolans because these people have a tendency to reach for the grimdarkest thing possible. It's like they cannot fathom Batman having any other emotions besides punching and gargoyle brooding.

6) The Canon Purists

Wanna share a fun headcanon? NO, because Stephanie Brown never used cherry lip balm in the comics so therefore that must be the absolute truth. These people are a stickler for comic accuracy to the point where it's like... why bother interacting with the fandom in the first place? The worst part is when they're adamant on following a single continuity and refuse to consider anything else. This is comics we're talking about. Everything either has been or will be canon at some point.

7) The Fanon Worshippers

On the opposite end of the spectrum, we have the people who base their entire perception of the characters on something either they pulled out of their ass or that their mutual with 16 followers came up with, despite evidence directly contradicting it. I love WFA, but I feel like that's partially responsible for further perpetuating certain popular myths. Also, these fans tend to focus solely on the batfam/their ships. It's one thing to have some people in the foreground vs. background, but put some respect to Bart Allen's name you goddamn cheesecakes.

8) The Golden Age Dads

These guys aren't really obnoxious. I actually find it kind of cute how they think Jason Todd is still dead.

9) The Chronically Online

I have a rule of thumb when it comes to discourse: if it's not something I'd hear about at a bar, it's not worth my mental energy. Some people haven't gotten the memo, though.

These are either the well-intentioned but misinformed teenagers or grown-ass adults beefing with children because they don't have a life. They have takes that are oversimplified, rage-inducing, TikTok algorithm attention-grabbers that no one cares about in real life.

Don't get me wrong, we've got a bunch of issues in comics and fandom that are worth discussing. However, there comes a point where you're splitting hairs and need to go the fuck outside. I'm not gonna link the post 'cause I don't wanna call them and their 7 notes out, but the other week I saw someone saying Stephcass was a racist ship because something something colonialism parallel. You gotta be Elastigirl to have that kind of reach.

10) The Corporate Simps

I love comics. I appreciate the writers and artists. However, you will find my carcass in a ditch before you catch me licking the boots of DC/Warner Bros. Basically, these fans, fewer as they are, can't seem to fathom that their favorite franchise can (and does) put out some steaming motherfucking garbage.

11) The Hot Cosplayers

Not actually annoyed, I'm just a little jealous. Stop being hotter than me, please and thank you.

12) The One With A Punchline For Everything

Wait–

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sorcerous-caress · 6 months

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So fun fact about me irl I work with children but often my teacher language slips out like telling my friends to say “bye bye bus”, telling another person in my lecture writing to “be nice to the pencil, it’s your friend.” And greeting a roomful of grown as adults with good morning boys and girls. It’s mortifying but How do you think the companions would react to having a teacher!tav slip up like that.

Dealing with a Teacher Tav

[Bg3, fluff, platonic kinda, nb!reader]

[Gale, Shadowheart, Laezel, Wyll, Karlach, Astarion, Halsin, Minthara, Jaheira, Minsc]

Gale

He delightfully plays along whenever you tell him to thank a stranger or say goodbye to an inanimate object. He thinks it's very silly and joyous.

Teachers have always been a big part of his life, it doesn't phase him in the slightest when you unawarly awake the deep memories of being in wizards pre-school for him.

Says good morning to you back, adding a teacher honorific at the end for the sake of being playful while asking if you've finally graded the homework he handed in.

He gives you an apple occasionally. He thinks he is very hilarious.

Shadowheart

She freezes in awkwardness whenever it happens, not sure if you’re being serious or just playing around. Sometimes, you don't even register slipping up as go on with your day, leaving her wondering if she's imagining things.

She has zero experience with the school system, completely confused by the need to say thank you for carriage after it arrived. It's just a carriage, why should she?

One time while her and Laezel were arguing, you used the same call you'd use in the classroom to get the kids to quiet down and it completely caught them both off guard. They just stood there baffled, forgetting their original argument.

Laezel

Why, yes, she is very familiar with teachers. In fact, she was the best out of her class, ask any githyanki teacher, and they'd tell you endless praise about her throat cutting techniques and sword welding stances.

You, whoever, use very unusual teaching techniques. How would learning a song about washing your hand and brushing your teeth help her in slaying her enemies?

Intriguing, so you take advantage of the brain's tendency to latch on to phrases that rhyme, which makes them easier to remember? And you encode your melodies with instructions to embed them into the impressionable youth?

Huh. She actually is impressed. She made her decision, you will lend your teaching skills to help her embed the most effect way of fracturing someone's spine into a melody to spread to the githyanki children.

Wyll

As someone who has been an unofficial teacher for so many kids throughout his years, he can relate to your struggle a lot. He slips up more than he cares to admit.

The both of you meeting early in the morning while still groggy and tired, your brains working on automatic mods as you greet each other with the same high pitched enthusiastic voice you use to greet a toddler.

Then just stare at each other, complete understanding between the two of you. Like two people accidentally using their customer service voice in front of the other.

You struggle to tie your boots once, and he unconsciously bends down to tie them for you while using the rabbit loop euphemism, only to stop in his tracks as he realises what he's doing.

He uses a curse word once, and you immediately use your teachers voice and say, "we don't speak like that here, that's wasn't very nice."

You're both tired, you both need a nap and neither of you brings it up when the other slips.

Karlach

Much like Gale, she finds it extremely amusing. Top tier comedy to her. Unlike Gale, she hasn't been to any proper schooling system, so she doesn't exactly know what most of these phrases mean or imply.

In a way, it lets her pretend she was a part of something like a school in her youth, like she could've had a normal childhood like everyone else.

She'd indulge you, saying goodbye and thank you to the pigeon that delivered her a letter, or overhearing Wyll's rabbit loop ryhme and whispering it under her breath as she ties her own boots. Who knew this could've been so easy?

Astarion

You remind him of how Leon was with his daughter back in Cazador's manor. Astarion never was close with any of them, but still, he sometimes overheard him attempting to give his daughter a semblance of a normal childhood and growth.

It's endearing when you accidentally use your teaching ways while dealing with the owlbear cub, but he'll never admit it.

Doesn't indulge you with it, he has appearance to keep. Well, unless he has a chance to twist your innocent meaning words into a sex or gorey joke like the 12y old humour that he has.

Ah, the scrowl on your face is the exact same one Leon had around him, such fond memories.

Halsin

Ah, you bring him back to his old days of having to deal with the children at the grove. Although his methods focused more on showing them that nature is a friend rather than inanimate objects.

But who is he to judge your ways? If anything he could learn a thing or two from you to add to his skillset.

Tells you about the fables that were passed down from elf to elf throughout the generations, animal stories have always done a great part in teaching him morality.

Do you happen to have any? Maybe you could tell it to the children of the grove, they are good kids.

Minthara

As a noble, she was only given the best and most prestigious of teachers while growing up. Even the ones that weren't a drow would still be considered the best of the best, crème de la crème.

Yet not a single one of them applied such...childish methods. etiquette and discipline were taught by the lash and threat of punishment, not lullabies and gentle guidance.

....it's not as bad as she imagined.

She doesn't get why some of your companions find it amusing. She doesn't bother indulging either.

But sometimes, sometimes, when it's just the two of you, and she is sure not a single soul is around, she will reply with a pun with the most deadpan face expression you've seen.

Jaheira

Despite what most would think, she actually integrated the same methods into her teachings back when her kids were little, it just happened to be weaved with her more dangerous lifestyle ascept.

Here comes the plane, with the airplane usual holding a good dosage amount of poison to build resistance.

A short rhyme about what to check before leaving the house, except the list has a suspicious amount of daggers and trap disarm kits in it.

If it works, it works, so what if she had to alter a kid's book about a honey loving yellow bear into one with decipherable texts to teach them Harpers' secret communication language.

Minsc

Ah! Boo does use the same method on him sometimes, the two of you have a lot in common. Although Boo's methods do involve a bit of biting every now and then.

Say, how about he teaches you some fables from Rashemen, a lot of them are about a rabbit who got lost after not listening to his witch frog companion.

You could use it in your teachings later! Show the youth the importance of good teamwork. Yes, he is aware of the fact he didn't listen to Jaheira and got captured by the cult. No, he doesn't see why this is relevant? Why is Boo suddenly agreeing with you? He is supposed to be on his side.

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sherlocksoft · 11 months

Text

The Experiment

Sherlock Holmes x reader

Masterlist

Summary: When you married Sherlock, you discovered a side to him that you would never have expected. A side that was only for you.

Author's notes: See if you can spot the line I included from a Sherlock Holmes story as a nod to Victorian Sherlock… I used a few Victorian terms in this to make it authentic, so on the off chance that you're an historian specialising in Victorian dirty talk, please be kind 😉. This is written with any Victorian Sherlock in mind, but leaning toward Henry.

Warnings/content: nsfw, shameless smut, 18+, f!reader, reader has a vagina, dirty talk (but make it Victorian), first time, marriage, breeding kink, fingering, cream pie, cunnilingus, overstimulation, discussion of safe word, mentions of blow jobs, dom Sherlock if you squint, mentioned aftercare

Marrying a gentleman like Sherlock, there was no surprise that when it came to matters of the marital bed, he was technically as inexperienced as you.

You had been delighted to learn that he had a tendency to live slobbishly from time to time despite scrubbing up exceptionally well; neglecting his hair, sleeping in, wearing his dressing gown all day, not bothering with trifles like what time you ate dinner or who was calling in when his organised chaos took over your home (especially if it was his brother Mycroft).

You were also pleased that he wasn’t a prude — in his line of work you supposed it would be difficult to be completely prudish — because you felt you could comfortably be yourself around him, which seemed such a rare treat for a woman living in these days.

But the one thing you were utterly surprised by, was the way he spoke to you about sex. And even more surprising; how completely crazed he seemed for you. It went against everything you expected of him while courting, and definitely against everything that the general public would ever imagine of him.

Always treating you entirely properly, you’d expected an awkward and perhaps uncomfortable encounter upon consummating your marriage, sure that he would not have time or care for physical affection, especially since he usually displayed such an obvious aversion to the touch of others.

On the contrary, he seemed to have a great deal of confidence as well as an intricate insight into the topic, even upon your first time together. His approach set every nerve in your body aflame before sating you completely and providing a generous offering of his pearly seed to establish itself in your belly.

When you found yourself atop your newly shared bed, at first you worried your ankles may be revealed as your dress lifted above your boots, but he didn’t seem at all phased. You supposed people did see one another in the nude once they were married, and although the thought had been eating away at your nerves, but Sherlock didn’t seem nearly as on edge, which went a long way to soothing your worries.

You’d seen this look of his before. His sparkling eyes devoured you as though you were a new and exciting mystery to be solved, and knowing him as you did, he would no doubt be filled with drive fit for a thorough investigation.

‘Do not worry, darling, I shan’t strip you of your beautiful dress just yet,’ he soothed, caressing your cheek before shedding himself of his jacket and loosening his ascot. ‘Let us start slow, we do have all night after all.’

He moved down to sit beside where you laid upon the bed, and his fingers worked to remove your boots, sending shivers tingling up your legs as his flesh eventually brushed against yours.

You watched him carefully as he rolled his sleeves up, wondering what on earth he was preparing for. You began to feel entirely like one of his experiments, and you supposed that in a way, since this was his first time too, you were. The thought made your lips curl in amusement and your heart race.

‘Have you researched sex, Sherlock?’ you asked bashfully as he lifted your skirts further and ran his fingertips, featherlight and only slightly shaky, up along the contours of your inner thighs.

Gently, he pushed your legs apart, fingers hooking under the soft fabric of your bloomers as that gorgeous curl loosened to fall over his forehead.

‘Of course I have,’ he said simply, still entirely focussed on contributing to your growing arousal. ‘One cannot possibly get something of such delicate balance down to an exact science without sufficient data… just like one cannot perform an exact art without practise. And practice, we shall…’

Your cheeks flushed a deep shade of crimson at the imagery of him studying indecent books with your pleasure in mind. You were overcome with an unusual desire to squeeze your thighs together, but ignored it in favour of feeling entirely safe in his apparently capable hands. Hands that were slipping your bloomers down past your knees and dropping them unceremoniously to the floor.

His fingers began to explore your slick folds, not at all helping to cool the red hot blush that powdered your cheeks.

‘Oh, how I’ve dreamed of bedding you, my darling,’ he breathed, settling properly beside you on the bed. ‘I’m going to satisfy you in ways you cannot fathom. Don’t be shy, you’re doing so well for me.’

Your unexpected cry of pleasure tore through the otherwise silent room, his finger now slowly pumping in and out of your heat. You gripped his arm as if holding on for dear life, fearful that you might otherwise float away in this unexpected haze of bliss.

‘You feel like silk,’ he praised, voice weakening slightly. ‘That’s it, hold on to me, you’re safe. You’re going to come on my fingers first, my needy little minx. Focus on how they fill you, how they caress your inner walls. Does it excite you as it excites me?’

You nodded. Your mind was fuzzy with pleasure like you’d never known, so much so that answering verbally seemed a certain impossibility.

‘I have fantasised about taking you on my fingers,’ he whispered, low and deep into your ear, ‘how divine you would sound as you give in to your pleasure, my name slipping hungrily from between those pretty lips.’

He removed his finger then, and a whine of protest erupted from somewhere within you. You just felt so empty without his elegant digit sliding in and out of your swollen entrance, dragging against something inside that made you absolutely ravenous for more — but a new sensation soon took over and you felt disappointed no longer.

His slick coated fingers dragged up through your folds and you shuddered, all the nerve endings in your body, it seemed, set alight at once. But when he reached the throbbing nub at the apex of your sex, there was suddenly ten times the bliss you’d felt before and your body jolted upward as your scream pierced the room.

‘Ah, it seems it’s not so hard to find after all,’ he said casually, ‘I summised that most men were simply to lazy to bother with this little trick, and perhaps I was onto something. But look at you darling, how you tremble for me while I massage your pretty, soaked flower. What man wouldn’t want to witness their love so utterly wanton for their touch? To feel her blatant arousal at his very fingertips?’

Your mind had turned all but blank, the sensations shooting through your body overwhelming you as his fingers danced with perfect pressure against your clitoris.

‘Sh-Sherlock- I- oh!’

‘I know, darling, I know, you need to come for me, don’t you?’

Swiftly, he pressed his thumb to your clit and slipped a finger easily back inside, fucking you harder and faster than before, watching with delight as you unravelled beneath him.

As the lewd slapping of his fingers fucking into your sopping sex filled the room he, quite pragmatically albeit with a much darker voice than that which he uses during his usual experiments, talked you through your release.

‘This pleasure will soon overwhelm you, culminating in your orgasm. If all goes to plan, your quim will rapidly clench around my finger and there’ll be something like sparks at your clitoris, then you’ll feel a few moments of indescribable ecstasy...’

Your own fingers snapped around his wrist, feeling his steady yet vigorous movements, and you wondered how on earth anything could feel better than this, right now.

And then it hit.

‘Ah, yes, there it is. That’s it! Yes, come for me! Come for me!’

His name did indeed tear from your parted lips, shaky and breathy and desperate, and then his fingers began to slow, easing you down from your high until he gently withdrew them.

Your eyes closed as you relaxed back against the pillows, your legs shaking. You heard a humming sound that pulled you back to the present, though, and glanced across at your husband to see him gleefully sucking your slick from his fingers.

‘It is frankly a disservice to the entire human race to consider that act depraved. Mmh. And you taste like the sweetest nectar, darling... tell me, did it feel good?’

You nodded, biting your lips together.

‘There’s no shame in it, my love. Especially if it feels good.’

‘It felt exquisite,’ you breathed, punctuated with a blissful sigh, and Sherlock smiled broadly. A rare sight. ‘But what about you?’

‘I do not wish to rush you. I will be truthful, however — after watching that beautiful display, my root is as solid as a rock. Whilst I've no intention of pressuring you, I will not turn you down if you’re sure you feel sufficiently ready for me.’

‘I… I think I do,’ you whispered, and you loosened your grip from the layers of your skirt to rest a hand delicately on the broad expanse of his chest.

He gasped at the simple affection, and the reaction caused your lower lips, still throbbing with the after effects of your climax, to quiver.

‘May I?’ you asked carefully, and he nodded. Your hand trailed down gradually, until it reached his lower stomach.

Sherlock’s breath quickened, and you pushed lower still, cupping his erection.

‘Ah- ohhh-’

His eyebrows raised and his eyes fell closed as you stroked his length softly and slowly, but before you could find a proper rhythm, he quickly snapped his hips away, grabbing your hand firmly in his as he leant in to kiss you with fierce passion.

As he pulled away from your lips, he muttered, ‘I hoped to inject you with my seed, but I fear that if you continue touching me for a moment longer, the only thing filled with it will be my undergarments.’

‘Then please, Sherlock, take me-’

And take you, he did. Within a second you were pushed onto your back, and he was settling between your legs, hurriedly unfastening his trousers to release his steadily leaking arousal.

As he carefully pushed himself into you, your warmth enveloping his length, an expression of sheer bliss relaxed his handsome features.

‘Am I too big, darling?’ he panted. ‘Does it hurt?’

‘No- please, don’t stop, Sherlock, I want to be filled with your cock- filled to the brim with your blow-’

He smirked at your words. You mustn't be quite so innocent if you were using words like that.

Sherlock began to steadily roll his hips. Your core burned with an unusual pain, a pain that made you crave more.

His forehead pressed to yours, your hot breath mingling with his each time he thrust gently into you and let out a sweet little whimper.

‘I told you I’d- fantasised about- pleasuring you- ha- ahhh- I can’t deny- I’ve thought of many acts, some of which you might consider- mmh- indecent- but each flood of bliss I give to you is- ha- simply the perfect result of an experiment I’ve been dying to carry out since I met you, and- ohhh-’

His voice was so breathy and shaky now, you knew that he wouldn’t last much longer, but you wanted to give him a taste of how he’d made you feel. You wrapped your legs around his waist and dug your heels into his back, pulling him closer and signalling for him to go harder.

‘Do you- ohh- do you w-want my children, darling? Do you want me to- ah!- unleash my potent seed within these t-tender walls and- give you a child?’

‘I want nothing less,’ you breathed, thrilled at his words, and at that he snapped his hips unrelentingly, snaking a hand between your writhing bodies to massage your sensitive clit once again, and Sherlock relished in the moan his touch elicited.

‘Clever little- ohh- trick, isn’t it?’ he just about managed, and less than a second later, came with force inside you.

Your walls tightened, contracting around his thick cock to milk him of every last drop, your tightening walls taking him to a plane of existence he’d never before explored.

This orgasm felt different for you, you noted, and if either of you had been coherent enough to discuss the matter you were sure he would ask you to write it down and keep a record detailing those differences.

Nevertheless, your second peak was just as strong, and you fell weak once again as Sherlock’s seed dribbled onto your thighs and he rolled off you, panting.

‘Darling- that was- oh, it was-’ he muttered, half delirious. ‘You feel- good god, you feel-’

‘I came again,’ you admitted, proud this time, knowing it would please him.

‘I know. I felt it,’ he smirked, and then, almost as if he read your mind, ‘did it feel different?’

‘Yes,’ you chuckled.

‘Oh how wonderful! I should write a monograph on the matter. Only for your eyes of course — although it could benefit at least half of the population if there were more literature on women’s pleasure.’

‘So, a filthy love letter just for me, with a touch of the scientific?’

‘You understand me so well,’ he cooed, stroking your cheek. ‘This is precisely why I adore you.’ And suddenly, there was a sparkle in his eyes that you’d seen when he reached a breakthrough. ‘Tell me, have you ever heard of cunnilingus?’

You shook your head. ‘Not… really. I may have gleaned a… basic understanding-’

‘It’s precisely the act I mentioned may be considered indecent, but I would very much like the opportunity to try it with you.’

‘Tell me about it?’ you breathed excitedly.

‘Perhaps it would be easier to show you. Do you trust me?’

‘Yes. Do it,’ you said eagerly, hungry for as much as he was willing to give you.

‘Consider this another experiment… if you dislike it, you must tell me and I shall end it, however my understanding is that if it works, you will not be entirely in your right mind so we must set a code in place.’

‘How about a word that we don’t associate with sexual activities?’ you suggested.

‘Precisely. “Mycroft” it is.’

You burst into a simultaneous fit of laughter, until he silenced you with another, fervent kiss.

‘You might need to loosen your corset for this one. Providing three orgasms in restrictive clothing is no way to treat one’s wife. And what if there are four, or five? I would never forgive myself.’

Taking his advice, you began to strip, soon revealing your breasts to him.

‘Oh, darling, what a perfect start...’ He wrapped his lips around a nipple and sucked lightly, his fingers toying with the other. He was pleased to feel you squirm beneath him and jolts of pleasure shot from your chest to your core and back again.

‘Oh- I never knew they could- mmh- feel like that…’ you groaned, but once again he left you cold to move onto something new, shimmying lower to settle his face at the apex of your thighs.

His tongue lashed warm and wet against your sex, circling your nub, exploring your folds and lapping at your entrance to collect your combined juices.

The way you shuddered had him fighting off a second erection. Not now — he needed to concentrate, and was hoping that with this new method he could give you multiple orgasms in one sitting. His own pleasure could wait.

He hummed into your quim as though he were enjoying a long awaited meal, and you quickly fell apart once again as his hums of delight vibrated through your core.

‘Sherlock,’ you whined, ‘Oh, Sherlock…’

‘One more?’ Came his muffled response, his deep growl reverberating through your weakened body. It didn’t take long for another peak to take over, your mind completely clouded in a haze of overstimulation.

‘I think it’s time for a break now, my love,’ he muttered softly, coming up to hold you, his pretty lips coated in your juices. ‘I rather think that this has been an experiment I would take pleasure in repeating regularly, if you’ll allow me.’

‘I’d be delighted,’ you sighed dreamily, already feeling the pull of sleep.

‘I will also mention that, as soon as you’re comfortable enough, I would rather like to experiment with my own orgasms. See how they feel inside your hand… or your mouth…’

‘Yes, yes I would… I would like…’

‘Shh… for now, it’s time to sleep. Rest, my darling wife you’ve done so well for me.’

You nodded, and that was the last you remembered of the evening.

A thin blade of warm sunlight woke you in the morning. You found yourself comfortably wrapped inside his shirt. He’d cleaned you up after you drifted off to sleep, and you rose feeling refreshed and relaxed.

Creaking open the bedroom door, you heard his handsome voice floating through. He had a client, and when you peeked through the gap you could see that your husband looked impeccably well put together. Unlike you; if anyone saw you like this… you dreaded to think. You smiled to yourself, though, wondering what his stoic looking client would think if he knew what Sherlock had spent all night doing before meeting with him. You bet Sherlock could teach him a thing or two.

You could only hope this case would be too boring for him so he would return to your bed, for you entirely planned to take Sherlock into your mouth the moment you were able. To taste him. To give him as many releases as he had given you. To see him entirely, blissfully weakened by pleasure…

#not s f w 💀#sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x you #sherlock holmes smut #sherlock x reader #sherlock smut #henry cavill sherlock holmes #victorian sherlock #henry cavill #sherlocksoft writes

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mountainsandmayhem · 16 days

Text

Wonderful Tonight

Marcus Pike x Pregnant Female Reader - 18+

Summary: Marcus Pike takes care of his very pregnant wife, shaving her legs (and more) and then treats her like the delicious meal she is. CW: pregnancy, shaving, fingering, oral sex (f!receiving), unprotected p in v (you can't get pregnant while pregnant, but all of you better be wrappin it up!), praise, pet names (baby, honey, etc.), multiple orgasms. This is fluffy romantic smut. AN: I write one piece with feelings and suddenly I'm Mrs Romance over here! I gotta say that I'm falling deeper and deeper for Mr Marcus Pike, JUST LOOK AT THAT FACE!!! I feel like their wedding song would have been Wonderful Tonight by Eric Clapton, hence the title. Thank you @syd-djarin for reading this over for me. @survivingandenduring, I'll be waiting for my edits lol. Dividers by @saradika-graphics Word Count: 3.9k

A faint groan stirs Marcus awake, he takes a few seconds to fully come to, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hand. Trying to listen for that sound again, unsure if it was a dream or not. He reaches across the plush white bedding of the king sized bed looking for you, his beautiful and very pregnant wife, only to find the bed empty.

Usually, worry and panic would rush through him if you weren’t in bed, but you appear to be in your nesting phase and it hasn’t been unusual in these last few weeks for him to find you rearranging the nursery or ordering more things off Amazon at strange hours. You also seemed to have the strangest midnight cravings, like mayonnaise on ice cream, or there was that night he walked on you about to take a bite out of a kitchen sponge.

He sits on the edge of the bed and stretches, looking over at his alarm clock. 2:56 am.

The sound of you huffing and grunting floats from under the door of your ensuite bathroom. You sound like you’re struggling or in pain and adrenaline courses through Marcus as he hops up and rushes to the door. His mind racing to calculate the number of weeks pregnant you are and if it’s too soon for you to be in labour or not.

He tries the door handle to find it locked. “Babe?” He calls, rapping his knuckle in the door gently.

“Sorry. I’m fine. Go back to sleep,” you call back, your voice seems off like it’s laced with discomfort. It immediately sets his teeth on edge, you’re not fine, and according to his quick math you’re also at a point where you could go into labour and even though the baby would be a little early, they’d be past the danger zone and the baby would most likely be ok.

“Please open the door. You don’t sound fine.” He says softly, pushing the panic down like the trained FBI agent he is.

You’re quiet for a second before responding in a more stable voice, “Everything is fine. I’m sorry I woke you up.”

“Are you sure everything is ok?” He asks one more time, he knows your stubborn tendencies and how it usually takes him to ask three or four times before you give in.

It’s silent again behind the door. Just the sound of you huffing like you ran a marathon before a sad little ‘no’ leaves your lips. It simultaneously sends him into fix mode and breaks his heart. He hears your bare feet pad across the tile floor followed by the click of the lock.

He cracks the door slowly to come face to face with you in just your sports bra, naked from the ribs down. Your legs are slathered in raspberry and tangerine scented shaving cream and you have a purple razor in your hand. Your cheeks are pink with frustration and the exertion of trying to bend down. Your hair’s piled on top of your head, a few loose strands falling and sticking along the nape of your neck.

He leans his toned bicep against the doorframe, only wearing his tight black boxers, then crosses his arms and looks at you tenderly. His voice is soft and full of love as he says, “Oh, sweetie. What are you doing?”

The tears of frustration start to pool along your lash line. “I’m gonna give birth and I can’t be a Sasquatch, but I can’t bend over without feeling like my lungs are being crushed by my giant belly.”

Marcus cups your face, wiping away the stray tear and bringing your eyes to his. “Honey, you’re not a Sasquatch. And even if you were, they’re doctors. Come here,” his hand trails to the nape of your neck and he pulls you gently into him, wrapping both arms around you and tucking your head into his neck, “They’re not looking at your leg hair. They’re focused on you and the baby.”

You relax into his arms, belly pressing against his abdomen comfortably. “I can’t go into labour like this,” you say, anxiety wavering in your voice.

Marcus drops his arms from your body and slides past you, slipping his boxers down before stepping into the large, glass walled shower. He turns the nob that controls the rainfall shower head and crooks his fingers at you as a silent call to walk to him.

When you reach him, he starts to unzip the front of your sports bra. “What are you doin’, Mr Pike?” You say softly over the soothing sounds of the shower, watching his thick fingers pull the zipper down.

“I’m shaving Mrs Pike’s legs,” he says as you look back up at him. His chocolate brown eyes soaked you in and made you weak in the knees.

“Marcus, you -“ he cuts you off as your sports bra hits the floor.

“I promise to love, cherish and treasure you,” he starts, lightly pulling you into the shower. He always recites his marriage vows when he can sense you’re about to fight off his help. His way of reminding you that he wants to be there, wants to care for you. He continues his speech as he leads you to the wooden bench, “In all circumstances; good or bad. Forever. Without hesitation or keeping score. From this breath, until my last breath, you are my wife, my love, my partner, and my equal.”

He steadies you as you sit before taking a knee in front of you and smiling up at you sweetly.

“Thank you,” you whisper. It’s the middle of the night and this incredibly sweet man doesn’t even question or fight you. Just supports and loves you with his whole being. “I don’t deserve you.”

“Baby, you’re growing a person for us. You deserve so much more,” he holds his palm out and you place the razor in his hand. His other hand wraps around your swollen ankle lifting it to rest your foot on his knee. Before you can say much he starts making slow, gentle strokes of the razor up your leg.

You’re both silent for a moment, him lost in the sight of your soft skin as he shaves your leg, you lost in him and the way he’s looking at you as he drags the sharp razor so tenderly across your skin. The steam from the shower wraps around the two of you, encasing you in your own little cloud. The rest of the world and all your worries are temporarily blocked out until all your thoughts are just Marcus. Sweet, loving, emotionally available, Marcus Pike.

He reaches for the detachable shower head and drizzles warm water down your shin and calf, using his free hand to rinse away the excess shaving cream. You go to move your leg away but he grabs your ankle to keep you there. After switching off the water he puts it back and looks up at you, placing a light and lingering kiss on the inside of your knee before placing your foot back on the warm tile floor and grabbing the other ankle.

The shaving cream has washed away from the steam and backsplash from the rainfall behind Marcus, so he grabs the bar of soap and lathers up your leg. You watch again as he focuses all his attention on carefully shaving your other leg. Using the same little strokes, rinsing the razor more often than you would if you were doing it yourself.

After rinsing off the excess soap he glances up at you. “Better?” He asks soothingly.

“Ya,” you say, trying to convince him that your legs were your only worry, but he knows you better than that. He knows that when you flick your eyes away from his and your spine just slightly stiffens you want to ask something but are afraid or nervous to.

“Honey, what else do you need?” His hand kneads the swollen and sore muscles of the calf that’s still propped on his knee.

“Well…” you trail off as you start to blush.

“Mrs Pike. Are you going to ask me to shave your pussy?” He says with a devious little grin. Eyes lighting up like a horny teenager, placing your foot on the floor.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” you say quickly. “I’m just worried that -“

He lightly covers your lips with his palm and Reminds himself to stay calm. he’s thought about how sensual it would be to shave your most delicious areas, but he knows you have some insecurities about body hair, and he didn’t want you to think you had to be clean shaven for him to find you sexy. Because truthfully, you could be a Sasquatch and he’d still want you. “Oh no, baby. I want to. I really REALLY want to.”

You lightly kiss the inside of his palm as he smiles hungrily at you. Just as your insecurities start to cloud your thoughts Marcus places his hands on your belly and rubs gently. “For the record, you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on, clean shaven or not. I love the taste of your pussy when it’s like this, it’s sweeter and feels soft against my skin. Plus, I love the way you cry out when I tug on it. So don’t think for a second that my excitement over getting to shave her means I prefer it that way. I don’t. Ok?”

You crash your lips into his, tangling your fingers through the slightly outgrown hair at the nape of his neck. He tastes like toothpaste still from before he went to bed as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss, his soft wet tongue swiping against yours. The two of you stay like that for a while. Lazily making out in the middle of the night in the shower. His hands trail from your belly to your back, gently massaging the muscles of your lower back and then your hips.

He breaks the kiss, resting his forehead against yours as you catch your breath. “I’m going to get a new razor and your special shaving cream. Ok?”

You nod against him. “Are you ok on the bench, honey? Do you need a towel to sit on?”

“No, I’m ok. We can move if the ground is uncomfortable, Marcus.” He’s always beating you to ensure the other is comfortable.

“Be right back,” he winks. You watch him walk out of the shower to the vanity. The water droplets on his back run down the toned and slender muscles that line his back, they catch in the curve of his ass before running down his tight cheeks. You find yourself squeezing your knees together at the sight of your naked husband. He truly is so beautiful, inside and out.

He slips back into the shower and kneels before you, sitting back on his heels. “Slide to the edge, baby.” His hands come to your hips, guiding you forward. He licks his lips and looks up at you through his thick lashes, big brown eyes dancing softly around your face. “Spread your legs for me.”

Normally, saying something like that would sound dirty, or like a command, but it floats gently over the splash of the shower. Soft, caring, and so sweet that you melt back onto your hands, parting your knees wide for your husband. His eyes glaze over slightly as his lips part, your glistening soft folds on display for him. He blinks a few times and takes a slow breath, reaching for the shower head again, cupping the water in his hand and drizzling it along your pussy. The breath catches in your throat, something about this feels incredibly sensual, and it doesn’t help that Marcus is looking down at your pussy like it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

“Is the water ok? Not too hot?” He asks.

How did you get so lucky, but more so, how did anyone divorce this man in the past?

“It’s perfect. Thank you,” your voice waves, it’s breathy and full of arousal. He blinks up at you and smirks. He knows this is turning you on, and he plans to make sure you enjoy yourself as much as possible.

He applies the cream and grabs the razor, popping off the flimsy plastic guard before getting to work. His hand rests above your mound, pulling back gently to make the skin taut. He uses little strokes, rinsing the blade between each swipe of the razor. You close your eyes and let your head fall back as he continues. Once he’s removed all the hair from the top, he rests his hand on the now smooth skin just above your clit and gently pulls back. A soft whimper passes your lips, he’s so close to your most sensitive spots. But he said he’d help you shave, so he continues, swiping the razor in the same short strokes down one lip, and then the other. By the time he’s done, your breathing is rapid and shallow.

“You doing okay up there, baby?” He asks, placing the razor on the bench beside you.

You moan a soft ‘mmmmm-hmm’ as he reaches for the detachable shower head. You open your eyes, watching as he tests the water on his hand and wrist before holding the stream over your pussy. You gasp at the feeling of the warm water pressure flowing over your now swollen clit. Marcus smiles up at you, the dimple on his cheek forming and setting you on fire. He clicks the button on the side of the shower head, increasing the water pressure and holding it closer to your core.

“Marcus,” you whimper, leaning back further. Gravity lolling your head backwards.

“That’s it. Just relax, honey.” He says in a hushed voice, his free hand gripping and massaging the soft skin of your inner thigh higher and higher until he’s at the top. His thick middle and ring fingers coming to tease around your entrance.

“Oh god. Please, Marcus.” You say through bated breath. Your swollen breasts and belly rise and fall with your pleas.

He dips the tips of his fingers inside you, feeling your walls pulse and flutter. Taking his time to slowly fuck his fingers into you, inch by inch. Slowly. Lovingly. All while watching how you react. Watching the way your mouth falls open, eyebrows raising slightly, lips going soft as you moan his name.

Once his fingers are all the way, he curls them forward just as he clicks the button on the shower head, increasing the water pressure to its highest setting. You let out a long, husky wanton moan that echoes off the black tiled walls. “Cum for me, baby.”

Your legs start to shake, as your body almost launches you towards your release. Every muscle seems to go slack and it waves through you, pleasure reverberating from your aching clit, spreading to every cell in your body.

“Marcus. Oh fuck. Don’t stop, Pike. Please.”

You feel lighter, even as your heavy belly bounces as you grind shamelessly into Marcus’s palm and the spray of the shower head. He feels the grip of your slick walled pussy start to relax as you crest over the edge of your orgasm and start to come down. He pulls the stream of water away from your clit, the warmth of his large hand cupping you, his two thick fingers still working you slowly to the bottom of your high.

“You’re such a goddess, baby.” He says proudly. The praise wraps around you like a warm blanket as he slides his fingers from you carefully. “I wanna take you to bed and watch you do that again.”

You find the strength to arch your neck forward and look at him. You smile sleepily and nod, allowing your beautiful husband to take your hand, shut off the water, and lead you to bed. Before helping you climb in, he moves his hands to cup your face, placing his lips against yours. His chest rumbles with a content sigh as your tongue swipes hungrily along his soft bottom lip. One of your hands scoops under your belly, lifting it to relieve the pressure on your lower back, the other reaches for his hard cock. You grip around the base gently and stroke him slowly, matching the energy of the kiss.

“Mmmm, I like that baby,” he says between kisses, “But I’m not done with you yet. Let’s get you into bed.”

You climb in as gracefully as possible, praying silently that you don’t look like those sea lions that you watched on your honeymoon in Alaska a few years ago. You lay down on your back as Marcus climbs on top of you best he can, stretching to keep kissing you, doing his best not to put any of his weight on your bump. This position immediately puts pressure on your body, making you feel short of breath.

Your hands push at Marcus and you sit up slightly, seemingly fighting for breath. “Ugh,” you groan frustratedly, “I can’t breathe like that. I’m sorry. This is so unsexy.”

“Unsexy? I’m rock hard for you,” he says, looking down and then back at you with a smile. “You lay how it’s comfortable, how about that?”

“Pike, I’m only comfortable on my side with that crazy pillow under my leg.” You say, defeated and anxious. “I need you though.”

He thinks for a second, chewing his cheek as he surveys the pillows available. “Ok, what if you lay on your side, bottom leg straight, top leg hooked up and resting on the pillow?”

You smile at him lovingly, “Is that really gonna be sexy?”

“Honey, I’ve never been more turned on by anyone in my entire life. You’re glowing. I’m amazed by you every day.” He fluffs the pillows around you as you turn away from him, bending your leg up as high as your belly allows. “Is that comfy, baby?”

His fingers trace up and down your spine slowly as your body starts to sink and relax into the soft mattress. “Yes,” you whisper.

His lips come to your neck, kissing the soft spot behind your ear, down your neck and then along the top of your shoulder, fingertips swirling along your back and ass cheeks. Your eyes flutter closed, moaning at his sweet caresses. His lips continue to kiss your skin and down your back, as he spins his body so his feet are at the head of the bed.

“You’re so beautiful,” he says into your skin between kisses. “So strong. So selfless. I love you so much, Mrs Pike.”

Your whole body seems to tingle with anticipation of where he’s going to kiss next, you feel his hair tickle the inside of your top leg as he maneuvers his head between your thighs. You lift your leg higher, desperate to feel his mouth on your already sensitive pussy.

“Please, baby,” you gasp, arching your back slightly. “I need you to…”

His warm soft tongue licks a slow and teasing stripe from your asshole to your clit. A tortured moan leaves your lips, hips bucking into his face. Marcus lets out a silent laugh at your reaction. He’s always loved how your body responds to him. The very first time he made you cum, both of you still fully dressed as you made out, hips grinding into his as you shook, he knew that he wanted to see that for the rest of his life.

“Good girl, let me taste it.” He laps at you again, still just as slowly but with more pressure. Asshole, to entrance, to clit. Once. Twice. The third time his thumb comes to press into your now dripping pussy, tongue flicking around your nub slowly and with perfect pressure.

“You taste so good,” he moans between licks. “Such a good girl for me. You’re gonna cum soon aren’t you?”

“Yes. Yesss. Don’t stop, Pike.” He doesn’t stop, he never stops. Not until you’re either begging him to or you’re pushing him away.

“Never, honey,” he mumbles into your wet folds, and that’s when the tight elastic behind your mound snaps, and you cum hard and loud. Your inner walls grip his thumb tightly, pulling it deeper.

“M-Marcus…hnnggg…oh my god. Yes.” You’re lost in the euphoria. Every ache and pain from your pregnancy is temporarily erased and replaced with nothing but pleasure. Sparkling, warm pleasure.

It slowly starts to become too much, slipping into overstimulation. “Marcus. Stop, baby.” He’s always in tune with your body, his thumb already starting to slide out, tongue replaced with light kisses.

You whine as he pulls away, already missing him and the intimacy. “Please fuck me,” you say over your shoulder, his blown out coffee coloured eyes almost black. He slips his body alongside yours, the arm closest to the mattress slipping under your head. He grips his dick with his other hand, pumping it while running it up and down your slit, collecting your arousal.

“Ready, baby?” Marcus asks, kissing the top of your shoulder.

“Just fuck me already!”

If you weren’t pregnant he’d flip you onto your belly and drive into you, probably pull your hair and tell you to cut the attitude. But he knows he has to be gentler right now, so he slowly pushes the thick head of his cock into you. Inching in slowly, almost punishingly. “Don’t be a brat, baby. You know we have to be softer right now.”

You wiggle your ass back, trying to get more. You need all of him. When he’s finally seated all the way inside of you he holds still, sucking on your neck. “Be good, or I’ll just stay like this all night.”

“No, please, baby. Please move.” Your belly makes forward movement impossible so you’re just pinned between your bump and Marcus. “Pike, please.”

He quickly pulls back to the tip and then slides back in. You cry out into his bicep. “Again. Please. Again.”

“Fuck, I love it when you beg,” he whispers, fucking in and out of you a few more times. It’s deep and slow, always with a little extra punch of his hips at the very end. “Sound so pretty when you moan for me.”

You reach down to rub your clit, him encouraging you with his words. “That’s a good girl. Touch yourself for me.”

It doesn’t take long before you’re both on the edge, ready to tumble over together. To get lost in each other's pleasure. He moans deeply in your ear, whispering praises as you cum on his cock, holding off as long as he can before you feel his warm spend fill you. You’ve completely melted for him, unable to move or keep your eyes open. You both lay quiet, his softening cock still buried inside you, breathing heavily together. You both drift off, spent and happy and so unbelievably in love that it’s hard to believe something like this can exist.

Marcus wakes up a few hours later still inside you. He slowly slips himself out, peels his body away from yours and tucks the blankets around you. He leaves you a little handwritten note that he’s going to get French toast and bacon from your favourite place.

Ya, it’s definitely hard to believe that a love like this is yours.

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sleepiexx · 11 months

Note

Valeria Garza x fem reader. Reader and Valeria get into a argument and reader ignores Valeria for an entire day.

Pushover

Valeria Garza x fem!Reader

Note: I love the way you think anon, some angst with some hurt comfort after it. Hope you like it!

Summary: (Y/N) has a hard time standing up for herself, this brews trouble for her when inevitably there is an argument in her relationship.

Warnings: arguing, self-depreciating thoughts

Word count: 1923

(Y/N) was a pushover. She knew it. She’d known since about the third time she made friends with someone who only ever put her down and had a hard time standing up for herself. Although she knew it, she still couldn’t stop herself. To her it felt like she wasn’t in control, like she was watching a car crash from the back seat.

This problem became basically null the second Valeria Garza came into her life. Like a guard dog on the prowl, Valeria stayed right next to (Y/N), willing to defend her at any given moment should conflict arise, verbal or otherwise.

This, as most things do, came with a downside; (Y/N) never truly got over her pushover tendencies and now arguments with Valeria were near impossible.

It was never truly an argument, really, how can you argue with someone who always caves and lets you win? Because of this, emotions went unchecked, leaving room for them to fester. What was originally only a small annoyance became a black hole eating at (Y/N)’s mind at all hours of the day.

With time, Valeria only became more protective. It was sweet at first, being so loved, safe, and protected. But once the near 5-month long honeymoon phase of the relationship wore off, (Y/N) quickly found herself annoyed.

It seemed now that she never had alone time. Every waking moment was spent with Valeria, who she loved but could only spend so much time with before she went stir crazy. Don’t get (Y/N) wrong, she was literally obsessed with her girlfriend and she loved her very much, but Valeria wouldn’t even let her go to the store by herself, and god, she felt like a kid again, needing to hold mommy’s hand to cross the street.

It was only when Valeria suggested getting (Y/N) a full time bodyguard that everything boiled over and she snapped.

“Fucking Christ, Valeria, I’m a grown adult, I don’t need someone following me around every hour of every day!”

Valeria straightened her posture, eyes darkening as she tried to keep her cool.

“All I want is for you to be safe, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s eyebrow twitched, a clear sign of her blatant annoyance, “It’s always that excuse with you, isn’t it? You ‘just wanted me to be safe’ when you scared off the first friend I’ve tried to make since we got together, you were ‘defending’ me when you got us kicked out of that bar because you didn’t like the way some guy was looking at me, and now, as if your presence isn’t suffocating enough, you want me followed by someone who will report back to you with everything I’ve done all day? You are so beyond paranoid, it’s actually fucking insane.”

Valeria tried to understand her, she really did, “Where is all of this coming from?”

But unlike usual, (Y/N) was not willing to step down, “You! Valeria, it’s coming from you! It’s like ever since we got together you won’t leave me alone and I’m sick of it! I need some privacy once in a while, you’re acting fucking crazy!”

“I have done nothing but protect you since we have met and you want to call me crazy? Without me, your weak ass would have gotten yourself killed. Call me suffocating and insane all you want, (Y/N), you need me.”

(Y/N) stood there with a deep glare etched into her eyes as Valeria seethed. Suddenly she felt as though she were trapped. She didn’t want to be here anymore, she could feel tears beginning to gather in her waterline but she would be damned before she let Valeria see her crying after all of that. She turned on her heel, grabbing her things and beelining it towards the front door.

“Yeah, run away,” Valeria spat, “run away like you always do the second shit gets a little bit tough.”

And (Y/N) did, not sparing so much as a glance back to Valeria’s house after slamming the door and making her way to her car. She wasted no time in starting it up and speeding away as fast as she could.

She didn’t know where to go, but what she did know was that she didn’t want to go home and she absolutely could not return to Valeria’s.

She ended up pulling into a random parking lot 20 minutes away from both her own and Valeria’s houses, finally allowing herself to break down.

Tears flowed freely down her face as sobs echoed throughout her empty car. Her thoughts ran a mile a minute, arguing with herself about everything she had said.

Was she too mean? God what was she thinking, of course she was too mean, she probably just lost the best thing in her life. She should have just let Valeria win, why did she say all of that? She didn’t really think Valeria was crazy, a little suffocating, sure, but crazy was pushing it. How could she say that to her? She loved Valeria, and she just threw it all away like that. Valeria probably didn’t even want her anymore.

She sobbed harder at the thought.

“Please, please, please don’t leave me,” she cried to herself.

She’ll have to put together one hell of an apology. Even then, there’s no telling how Valeria would react. She was right, (Y/N) did need her. This was the first time she was truly alone in months and yet she felt so, so awful. She thought she wanted this, but now with the threat of losing her girlfriend over her head she was so incredibly lonely.

She was broken out of her pity party by the buzzing of her phone. One look at the screen and she could see Valeria’s beautiful face and caller ID.

She couldn’t talk to her, not yet. What if she said another stupid thing and dug herself a deeper hole? What if Valeria broke up with her over the phone? She couldn’t bare the thought.

Instead of answering, she took her phone and turned it completely off, stuffing it into the depths of her purse. She started her car back up and drove home in complete silence, tears still running down her face.

Once home, (Y/N) sat in bed wallowing in her own thoughts and self hatred. She only got up once, to use the bathroom which in a shocking turn of events proved to make her more upset.

As she tugged off her pants, she was met with a dark red stain in the seat of her underwear. She was on her period. To her, this discredited everything she had said.

Maybe she was the crazy one. She just let all of her hormones get to her and make her yell awful things at her loving girlfriend. Valeria was right, she was weak. Just an idiot who couldn’t help but ruin everything good she had in her life. What an emotional wreck.

After putting on a pad, she changed clothes and sat under the covers, sobbing into her pillow.

Before she knew it, night fell and she realized she’d been moping around all day, only worsening her mood. A loud knock at the door made her flinch, snapping her attention in that direction.

As she made her way to the door, a small part of her hoped it was just a door to door salesman there to sell her on the “world’s best vacuum technology,” or even maybe just Mormons. But the majority of her yearned for it to be Valeria.

She had no clue what to do and no words prepared for when she opened the door and it revealed Valeria, standing on the porch sporting a down trodden look whilst holding a bouquet of flowers.

Valeria’s head shot up, half shocked that (Y/N) had actually opened the door. It was clear that (Y/N) had been crying for a while with her puffy red eyes and her sniffle, and Valeria felt so incredibly guilty. For what felt like the first time in her life, Valeria was at a loss for words.

“What are you doing here?” (Y/N) asked awkwardly.

Valeria cleared her throat, attempting to push aside all self-degrading thoughts and put together an explanation, “Well you weren’t answering your phone and I, uhm, I really wanted to say that I’m sorry for earlier. I said some awful things to you that I didn’t mean and it was wrong of me.”

(Y/N) quickly shook her head, fully believing that she and she alone was to blame for the argument.

“No, I shouldn’t have blown up on you like that.”

Valeria’s eyes saddened, “don’t do that, (Y/N).”

(Y/N) stared, confused, “do what?”

“Don’t back down. You never let yourself believe that you are right, even when you are.”

“But I wasn’t, Valeria, I’m on my period and I’m being a bitch.”

Valeria frowned as the words left (Y/N)’s mouth, “Don’t call yourself that. Sweetheart, just because you’re a little hormonal right now doesn’t mean your feelings were any less valid. I was being overbearing.”

“You just wanted to keep me safe,” (Y/N) whispered.

Valeria shook her head, “And I will get you enrolled in some self defense classes as soon as possible, but smothering you wasn’t the right way to make sure you were safe. I’m so sorry.”

(Y/N) pulled the door open wider, a silent invitation inside. One which Valeria gratefully accepted.

(Y/N) nodded, looking up at Valeria with sad, yearning eyes, “Can we uh, talk about this more tomorrow maybe? I’m starting to cramp, and I’m tired, and I really just want to snuggle with you right now.”

Valeria smiled warmly, so very happy that things weren’t over, “Of course, my love. I’d be happy to.”

(Y/N)’s heart warmed. She took the bouquet from Valeria’s hand and nodded towards the bedroom, “I’m going to go find a vase for these, I still have your clothes in my closet so you can go ahead and change into something more comfy while I do that.”

Valeria nodded and went off to change while (Y/N) filled a pretty glass vase with water and placed the flowers as a centerpiece on her table. She smelled one, admiring Valeria’s choice in flowers.

“Are you ready to come cuddle?” Valeria asked from behind (Y/N), causing her to jump. She quickly nodded and followed Valeria to bed.

Once settled, Valeria wrapped her arms around her girlfriend, rubbing patterns into her skin.

“Where are you hurting?” Valeria questioned.

“Huh?”

Valeria rubbing lightly at the skin on (Y/N)’s hip, “You said you were starting to cramp, is it your back? Breasts, tummy, hips?”

“Oh,” (Y/N) muttered, “tummy.”

Valeria’s fingertips drifted to (Y/N)’s stomach, slowly rubbing and kneading at the skin. (Y/N) sighed in relief.

Valeria desperately wanted to apologize again but she knew not to bring it up. Not when (Y/N) asked her to wait, and certainly not when (Y/N) was finally relaxing into her touch. Instead, she made certain that (Y/N) knew how much she cared by whispering sweet nothings into her ear and rubbing her stomach all throughout the night until the both of them inevitably fell asleep.

They would have plenty to discuss in the morning but for now, they could enjoy being with each other and knowing that neither of them wanted to break up.

#valeria garza x reader #valeria garza x fem!reader #valeria x reader #valeria x fem!reader #call of duty fanfic #valeria garza #valeria cod #valeria garza cod #call of duty valeria #call of duty x reader

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diaprincess-dl · 8 months

Note

First of all, thank you for who you are, and especially for choosing to share it with the world.

I am DL, with very few AB tendencies, if I understand correctly, you are also like that, with a connection to the DL world mainly.

There are very few women in the community in general, and in particular those who are DL. It's really refreshing to see that the first girl I notice that she's DL, she's also the most amazing beauty I've ever seen wearing diapers, and with a face that has real angelic cuteness.

I wanted to ask, and I would be very happy if you could answer, Even if not a complete answer, at least to know that you read and saw what I wrote, it will be very, very flattering to me.

When did you start wanting to wear a diaper? Is it sexual? If so, at what age did you realize it was related to sexual arousal? And if not, what in your soul makes you want this? At what age did you first put on diapers after initial weaning from diapers? And according to the fact that you had, from what I understand, late night wets, did your parents force you to wear a diaper? And when was the first time you put on a diaper in a section where it was clear to you that it was a so-called 'forbidden act'?

Sorry for the flood of questions.

I had a theory that was destroyed because of you, that these are only men can be a DL, because the sexual sensation associated with diapers somehow comes from stimulation and friction of the genital organ at a very young age in a diaper, which causes the brain to develop something very primitive to want a diaper, something that, technically, does not happen with women or should not happen for obvious reasons. And this is the reason that from the very, very basic tests I did, a lot of DL, these are children who were weaned at a relatively late age, 3, 4 and even 5. Then they develop the desire to wear a diaper, and at the age of 13 or so, it develops into something sexual. And that is why women are not DL, because the stimulation is supposed to be a lot more rarer.

One last thing I want to tell you is that the day I see a picture of you with a soaked diaper under your clothes, my day looks like rainbow.

Thank you so much for this!!!

Hiiyaaa 💕👸🏼

Thank you for such a kind message 🤗 I am definitely more into the DL side of things, you are absolutely correct but I do love some aspects of the AB side, I just don’t tend to share them online as much.

So I just started kindof dabbling in the world of diapers a few years ago, but had been wetting my pants and bed (some accidents, some on purpose) for literal years before I discovered the idea of wearing diapers… When I was a teen I went through phases where I would wet my bed like every night on purpose and then try to hide the evidence in the morning from my parents 🤦🏼‍♀️ they mentioned things a couple of times, but nowhere near the amount I was actually wetting the bed… they probably knew though lol.. l I definitely have a watersports kink, absolutely 🙊. Anyway I felt so silly for not thinking about the idea of using diapers sooner but diapers just never occurred to me lol. A few years back I saw my first porn video with another girl in a diaper and I was just in awe and had to try it myself 🤭.

Slowly I started to indulge more and more into blogs and personal ab/dl blogs to the point that I just kindof gradually mentally got myself in a space where I thought that I could try wearing diapers more often, which started off as just at night (when I was 26 to answer one of your questions)…. But somewhere in this phase I realized the convenience aspect of wearing 👀.. I could actually go through a full night in bed without having to get up to pee, so what started as a kink lead to discovering more than just that. I started wearing diapers all night, every night and just got used to waking up and wetting them, but this slowly, and I do mean slowly, about a year of wearing every night, turned into me starting to barely remember waking up to wet and eventually just flat out not remembering/not waking up and wetting myself most nights of the week. This was kindof scary but also turned me on? 🤷🏼‍♀️🤭 sooo I just kept doing it.

Here’s where the “convenience” aspect let me start wearing during the day: long road trips or long days out with my partner meant there was no real good spots to stop for the restroom all of the time. Things like concerts or big gatherings where there is drinking and long lines for the ladies room… I started wearing diapers to some of these things, not much as first but when I’d go back to not being diapered and have to suffer waiting in line, or waiting for a pit stop.. it was those moments that I seriously realized how much better it was being padded 💡 It was a little scary at first wearing diapers in public, especially wetting them.. also especially because I typically wear leggings or short dresses, so there is always some way that it can be seen. I’ve slowly just started to realize most people don’t care what you’re wearing for underwear, especially strangers. Friends on the other hand… 😬🫠 I know that some of my friends have noticed my diapers. I’ve had friends over for wine nights and forgot (on multiple occasions) to throw away my night time diapey and it was folded up on the bathroom floor and two of my friends went in there before I had went in and noticed. I’ve had a leak while waiting for a cab with my other friend and it was just us waiting outside in the quiet and I know she could hear the leaking onto the pavement. I also have multiple pictures on here of a diaper(s) I was wearing for while we were all hanging out…. So like all that and many other random occasions I’m sure lots of my friends know I wear diapers, I’m just waiting for someone to say something 🙊🙊 but part of me knowing they know, secretly turns me on? I’m super weird 🫠

So anyway since I knew there was a really big and accepting community out there for this, I finally got the courage to make a blog on Tumblr. It actually just started out as a personal blog for myself to be honest. Just a place where I could document my progress and share this side of me, for pictures I could go back and look at… I had no idea it would blow up like this. 😳 but I am extremely grateful and happy about it 💕💕

I wear diapers all of the time now, and am 100% nighttime bladder incontinent, and daytime at this point of a year wearing diapers 24/7 and NEVER trying to hold it….. I’m like basically there for daytime incontinence. 2 years ago I could totally hold it for hours like any other girl, but now I legitimately need diapers to keep me ‘dry’. I did it all to myself and part of me can’t believe it, but most of me is really happy I did it to myself 💕

#diaperdependent #diaper dependent #ab/dl #ab/dl community #ab/dl lifestyle #ab/dl babygirl #ab/dl diaper

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nayatarot777 · 11 months

Text

what you need to know right now ~ messages from your guides

if you’d like a personal reading, then see info here

subscribe to the patreon if you’re interested in daily messages from spirit, weekly pac readings for “the week ahead”, exclusive extended readings to the tumblr PACs, exclusive pac readings - such as 18+ and love pac readings - new moon + full moon readings, plus more. i’m on there everyday, just doing my thing 😂

• pile one •

cards: king of cups, knight of wands, judgement

you’re currently completing the current phase of your spiritual awakening. you’re now stepping into new and heightened awareness with a renewed mind and maybe even a whole new identity. you could be trying to chase after more consciousness and more knowledge to have more awareness about yourself and your reality, but you don’t seem to be realising that you’ve already reached the level of awareness that you set the intentions of having in the past. you could be impulsively seeking answers to things, but the answers lie within how you feel. because your feelings are connected to your intuition. the answers that you’re looking for cannot be found externally at this point. you can’t learn the answers from someone else, or from any body of work or text. you can only give yourself the answer, meaning that being lead by how you feel is what’s needed to finalise this particular spiritual awakening that you’re almost done with, but you could feel disconnected from your intuition or your feelings. that’s the last challenge that you have to focus on: listening to how you feel emotionally and within your body - especially when you think about certain people or remember particular things. you could have a tendency to ignore your feelings or gaslight yourself out of feeling the way that you do. but that’s where you’re going to get your guidance from. you’ve endured a rebirth which definitely wasn’t easy, but i feel like you’re really ascending into your true self. you’ve done a lot of shadow work, and invested a lot of energy into overcoming your own battles which is why your perspective of life is going to shift drastically. meaning that your reality is greatly shifting too. and this will create a state of internal peace and relaxation. but, again, only after you practice feeling. you can’t feel peace if you can’t feel anything to begin with. if you’re emotionally numb, confused, or overwhelmed. you feel how you feel. period. you don’t need anybody’s permission to feel how you feel. if your feelings don’t make sense to others then whatever. you know why you feel the way that you do. you’ve come a very long way in your personal development. you’ve done an extremely good job - keep going! 👏🏾👏🏾

extra message: the universe has heard your call. any behaviours and actions that you may judge yourself for needs to be accepted. not excused, but understood. give yourself more compassion than you are currently. the universe is trying to show you unconditional love but that can only happen when you’re able to feel that and give that towards yourself. that’s when you’ll be able to accept everything that the universe wants to bring to you.

• pile two •

cards: 9 of wands, the fool, queen of cups

you’ve either begun - or are about to begin - a new journey of healing. accepting that you need to heal from some things and stepping out of your emotional comfort zone. you may have a lot of boundaries up around you. and that’s a way to protect your emotions - but it’s keeping you stagnant because the way in which you’re putting boundaries up is a way that you’ve outgrown. i’m seeing that a lot of you have escaped from someone who was a threat to you. someone extremely dark and full of anger - or maybe even rage. for others of you, this could be about you running away from your own shadow. but i’m seeing that you’re reaching the point where you feel like you can’t stay stuck in the same place any longer, and so you need to just take a leap of faith when it comes to acknowledging, feeling, and accepting your shadow. for those of you who haven’t yet managed to get away from whoever this dark ass person is in your life, a new beginning is definitely coming. i heard “a new escape” whatever that means for you. there’s also something about rejecting intuitive messages that you’re receiving about someone who’s being extremely shady around you. spirit’s telling you to stop doubting yourself. just trust yourself for once and protect your energy. don’t let anyone or anything sway you away from what you know intuitively. you’re extremely spiritually protected and it’s okay to focus on feeling again. feeling calm, feeling your raw emotions, and accepting the way that you feel without emotional suppression. maybe someone in your life has taught you that your emotions are a burden. but you’re shedding this conditioning from yourself. i’m proud of you, pile two. celebrate yourself and your achievement 👏🏾🥳

• pile three •

cards: the hierophant, the world, judgement

whatever this message is about, it’s a big deal. all 3 of your cards are major arcana. a very big deal.

you’re realising something about your perspective on the world. something about traditional values, or societal norms - maybe related to work and abundance in particular. i’m hearing that your perception of abundance is shifting from physical abundance to energetic abundance. you’re realising that you’re someone who is already rich and wealthy in multiple ways. spiritually. i’m hearing that you’re gonna feel like you’ve “beaten the matrix” when you fully come to this realisation 😂. the realisation that physical abundance reflects the abundance that you have and that you acknowledge energetically. you’re also realising that you’re being given some type of responsibility related to your purpose here in the world. a lot of you could be coming to realise what you feel like your actual purpose is, due to something that makes you feel so fulfilled. and as you follow this purpose, you’re going to realise how finding abundance and value in the work that you do in this world is leading to the world being given to you. this could actually lead you to breaking out of a creative block. you’re entering such a creative period in your life where you co-create with spirit. you’re reaching the answers to questions that you’ve had for a long time - what am i supposed to do? what am i doing here? what is my purpose here? i’m so happy for you, pile 3!!! i’m hearing happy squealing from your guides 😭 they’re celebrating. it’s so cute ☺️

#pick a card #psychic readings #pick a photo #pac #tarot reading #tarot #pick a picture #pac reading #naya tarot collective

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graysbullshit · 9 months

Text

a list of brazillian fun facts you might want to know for your qsmp fanfics! (or in general lol)

DATING IN BRAZIL (because I know at least 50% of yall are gonna be writting slash):

Phase 1 can be or texting/talking or ficando (infinitive: ficar), it depends on how shy you are;

Ficando means to be actively seeking a person out consistently with the intent of talking for a bit and then making out (it does not entail any level of loyalty);

Brazillians only consider it "making out" if you french kiss;

Kissing without tongue is considered weird and viewed negativelly;

A little peck on the lips is cute, but not really what we consider kissing;

There are two types of brazillians: the ones that will start dating after a week and the ones that take months to make up their minds;

If a brazillian is interested in you (even if you don't know each other) and you're in a party there is a very good chance they will walk up to you and ask if you want to make out/ask for your instagram handle (it depends on what kind of party it is tbh);

Also, most brazillians kiss and tell lmao;

It is not uncommon for outgoing brazillians to make out with random strangers, especially during carnival;

We are a sex positive country mostly;

We are very sensual, even if we have no romantic interest;

Mock-flirting or Joke-flirting is very common in friend groups;

People who make out/date with the person their friend likes are called Talarica or Talarico;

When you get cheated on you're called Corno;

People usually go on dates after ficar for a whille;

Usually, if you're going on dates with someone it is expected of you to be faithful or to end things (you can't go on dates with a guy while also going on dates with another guy, that's fucked up);

We call dating namorando, from the infinitive namorar which refers back to namorado (boyfriend) and namorada (girlfriend);

brazillians are typically very direct when they are interested in someone, which doesn't mean they will say "oh, i like you" right away, but they will flirt for sure;

in Brazil saying "I love you" isn't a big deal, most brazillians will say it pretty fast and not saying it back (if you're in a relationship) is considered VERY WEIRD;

brazillians have the tendency of being very jealous lmao;

GEOGRAPHY:

Brazil is a continental sized country, being the fifth biggest country in the entire world. It is bigger than the USA, if counting only directly conected land (ignoring Brazil's islands and Hawaii and Alaska);

Because of it's size, brazillian states have a great number of differences in language, culture, food, climate, and politics;

There is as much animosity between states as in the USA (the difference being: brazillians will always defend each other rather than gringos);

The brazillian streamers are all from the Center-West, South-East and South of Brazil (unfortunatly there is nobody to represent the North and North-east);

The south-east is the are of biggest economical impact, while the center-west is known for the capital of the country (Brasília) and the agriculture, while the south has a terrible reputation (they have livestock too, but mostly a bad reputation);

Brazil has two of the biggest cities in the world: the 5º biggest, São Paulo, and the 19º biggest, Rio de Janeiro;

Nobody fucking likes São Paulo (the city) except from the people that were born there or lived there their entire lives;

Brazil has a mostly warm climate, and most brazillians consider anything below 20ºc to be cold (vai sulista, fala que no sul é mais frio, fala);

Brazil's seasons are more often defined by the level of humity, rather than how hot/cold it is;

Brazil is a giant when it comes to agriculture and livestock. We have a lot of grains, and red meat. If you drink coffee and eat meat you have definetly tasted brazillian products without knowning, since we do a lot of exportation (especially to europe);

Brazil has natural diamonds, pre-sal (which can be used in the making of combustives), gold and other precious stones.

HISTORY:

Brazil was mostly colonized by the portuguese, but there was also a presence of the Spanish, French, Dutch and British. You can tell by the architecture;

Rio de Janeiro was the capital of the Portuguese Kingdom for a little while;

Brazil (much like Mexico) was once an Empire;

Brazil (as it's own coutry) has had only two Emperors;

the Brazillian Empire was a big deal despite ending fairly soon;

Brazil's Empire once eliminated about 90% of the male population of Paraguay during a war, which is def a war crime. We have repayed them for what happened, though;

Cities like Rio de Janeiro have a lot of Imperial architecture, but most of the colonial architecture can be found in states like Minas Gerais;

Brazil sent troups in WWII to Italy, the famous Smoking Snakes;

Brazil was forced into a dictatorship by the USA (surprising no one);

Brazil had a president that decided to develop highways instead of trains (i fucking hate him). It's the same guy that moved the capital from Rio de Janeiro to Brasília;

Brasília was build with the blood of poor people and it fucking sucks, but it has the shape of an airplane so everything is fine ig /s;

Brazil's first woman president and it's current president were both tortured during the dictatorship;

Brazil is a concervative country, despite everything;

Do not ask me about Brazil's politics, because it's so fucking insane lmao;

GENERAL CULTURE:

Brazillian culture exists on top of three axes: Portuguese, African, and Indigineous;

We take A LOT from Japonese culture (since we are the country with the biggest Japonese population outside of Japan). I've never met a brazillian who hasn't watched anime, even my grandma knows what Pokemon is /srs;

Some other important diasporas in Brazil: Lebanon (we have more lebanese than Lebanon itself lol), China, Germany, Italy, and many different African countries;

Most brazillians listen to funk and sertanejo, but other brazillian music you might be interested in: samba, BRrock, mpb, BRpop, Axé, and Pagode;

Some other famous brazillians you might not know, but you should: Silvio Santos, Celso Portiolli, Rodrigo Faro, Angélica, Eliana, Xuxa, Luciano Huck, Pyong Lee, Mauricio de Sousa, Ariano Suassuna, Clarice Lispector, Machado de Assis, Guilmarães Rosa, Fernando Pessoa, Vinicius de Moraes, Toquinho, Mateus Hwang, Tiago Leifert, Tadeu Schmidt, Boninho, Guilherme Briggs, Fernanda Montenegro, Rodrigo Santoro, Wagner Moura, Seu Jorge, etc;

Most brazillians only drink tea for medicinal reasons (like cammomile tea);

Most brazillians love coffee and hate iced coffee;

Most brazillians start drinking coffee at a very young age;

Drinking (alchool) age in Brazil is 18yo, but most brazillians start drinking around 15yo;

Most brazillians love meat and barbecue. Here is a picture of a brazillian brabecue:

Brazil, differently from other American coutries, didn't have potatoes/corn as it's basic food, we had a root called Mandioca. Although it is still very beloved in brazillian cusine, the base for brazillian meals is currently Rice;

In Brazil we usually don't eat a lot during breakfast, but have a big meal (with rice, veetables, meat, and beans) for lunch and dinner. And our dinner is usually around 20h-22h;

We don't use AM or PM;

We use the metric system and Celcius, and we very much deslike the imperial system and what's-his -face is an abhorrent scientific disgrace;

brazillians who suck up to gringos are called "Vira-latas", which can be translated to "mutts" or more directly "eat-trash";

brazillians have mutiple coffee breaks during the day, mostly in the afternoon;

brazillians brush their teeth at least 3 times a day (mostly after every big meal);

brazillians shower at least once a day, some going as far as to shower three times a day during summer;

brazillians do not use snapchat and they think it's obsolete (because it is);

brazillians will pirate anything that isn't made by other brazillians, and I mean ANYTHING. There is no shame in pirating in Brazil and we are very proud of being the country that pirates the most in the world! We will also buy counterfeit products knowing they are counterfeit;

brazillians rivalry with argentinians is REAL. And, although is mostly a football thing, it really translates to everything else (especially if it's online);

brazillians have a hierarchy when it comes down to rooting for stuff, and it goes like this: brazillians, sibling countries, latin americans, other african countries, other third world countries, japan, other asian countries, european countries, anglo-saxon americans, argentina (if it's football), germany, portugal;

#qsmp fanfic #qsmp fanfiction #qsmp #long post #for the love of god ignore all the mistakes #i genuinelly could not care less about the proper grammar of english #if you disagree with me than disagree in your house #genuinely sorry for the long post but i promised #also my biggest fear is americans writting about brazillians and getting some basic stuff wrong #not that they NEED to know stuff #but i WANT you to know stuff #because you will ENJOY stuff

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starsstuddedsky · 9 days

Text

Blonde Phase

Renjun x gn reader

summary: spontaneous hair decisions always end in regret. that's what you expect to hear when you tell renjun you're bleaching your hair, but instead you find support, and even his help. you should appreciate his wholehearted support but instead it has you wondering: why doesn't he care?

genre: fluff, minimal angst, technically they're in grad school but that's not particularly relevant, non idol au,

warnings: swearing, mentions of drinking, spontaneous hair decisions (i do not endorse), lmk if I missed any

wc: 4.4k

a/n: in the immortal words of charles boyle, the most intimate thing you can do with a lover is wash their hair. yknow i made fun of him for that until i wrote this. i see it. also its been so long since ive finishing anything, pls forgive me if this is bad. renjun i love u. as always I'd love to hear what you think <3

“I’m bleaching my hair.” If you say it fast enough, Renjun won’t be able to talk you out of it. The plastic bag swings around your wrist as you walk across the parking lot. “I’ve already bought the bleach and gloves and stuff, and I’m going to do it, today.”

He’s quiet for so long you check to make sure the call hasn’t dropped. “Okay.”

You almost drop your phone. “Okay?”

“Yeah,” he says, drawing the word out. “Was I supposed to say something else?”

“Um, yeah?” You say. “You have opinions about literally everything. You talked me out of buying those pants two days ago.” You finally get to your car, tossing the bag onto the passenger seat and half-falling behind the wheel.

“That’s because they were made of polyester, and the thrift store was still charging $15,” he says immediately. “That was a scam.”

“Money is temporary, drip is forever.”

“Those pants would have lasted a year max, before they fell apart, and you still haven’t learned how to sew so you wouldn’t even be able to mend them or upcycle them.”

“You know what, I didn’t buy the pants, so this fight is moot,” you say. You set the phone on speaker, turning the engine on to blast the AC.

“Well, not moot. Technically I won,” Renjun says.

“I’d respect you more if you weren’t insufferable.”

“Here I was thinking you appreciated my insight,” he says. “You even asked for it.”

“I did not!”

“You literally asked about bleaching your hair.”

“I said I was surprised you didn’t have an opinion, not that I wanted to hear it,” you say.

“Semantics,” Renjun says. “So what time do you want to come over?”

You frown. “Tonight?”

“The roommates are out of town for the whole weekend, and I have way better ventilation,” he says. “I’d much rather bleach it without passing out.” He pauses. “You do want help, right?”

“Honestly, I was not expecting support. I was fully ready to fight you on this,” you say.

He snorts. “Come over whenever, I'm not doing anything today.”

“See you in twenty minutes.” You hang up, feeling a strange ball of tension roll around in your gut. That was… too easy? Renjun always has something to say about your admittedly impulsive tendencies. But if he’s going to help you’re not going to reject it—knowing Renjun he’s probably already watching Youtube videos and learning more than you will ever know about bleaching hair.

And it’s Renjun. When have you done anything without his help?

Renjun opens the door wearing a wearied expression. He doesn’t bother to greet you or even smile, just unlocks the door and steps to the side.

“Hi to you, too,” you say, trading your shoes for the spare slippers resting by the doormat. You follow Renjun into the space that serves as kitchen, dining room, living room, and Jaemin’s miniature gym, with weights and mats stacked next to the television.

“Who the hell clogs a toilet and then leaves for the weekend,” Renjun says.

You set down your plastic bag full of hair products and frown. “That’s disgusting.”

Renjun leans against the counter. “And you didn’t have to spend the last forty minutes trying to unclog it.”

“So which of the guys are you going to murder?” You try to guess, running through his roommates: you find it hard to believe Jaemin would do such a thing. Jeno maybe, and Donghyuck would certainly think it’s funny. But, in all honesty, it could have been any of them.

“Don’t know,” Renjun says, “but knowing them, they’ll make a pact to protect each other.”

“Seriously?”

Renjun pauses, gaze sheepish. “It’s what I did when I accidentally killed Jaemin’s little succulent that survived his college dorm.”

You fake a gasp, placing a hand over your chest. “Every day I learn something new about you. That’s devious.”

“I was drunk!” Renjun says, holding up a finger. “And Jeno and Donghyuck pushed me into it, so it was equally their fault.”

“If you say so.” You glance around the apartment. “Where are they all?”

“Jaemin’s visiting family, Jeno has a soccer tournament, and Donghyuck said he’s going camping with Yangyang.” Renjun says, counting off with his fingers.

“Donghyuck and Yangyang are friends?”

“Yeah, according to them they bonded over dealing with me.”

“Those were their exact words?”

“Dealing with my ‘stupid ass,’” Renjun says.

“That’s more on brand.”

Renjun nods.

You think about Yangyang, Renjun’s friend from when he was a kid. You’ve met him a few times now, especially since he’s moved half an hour away from Renjun. He’s fun, always bringing out a chaotic side of Renjun whether it’s dancing on a bar or bringing out angry-Renjun. But Yangyang and Donghyuck?

“That’s a terrible friendship. They’re going to ruin you.”

Renjun nods again, but you see the smile hiding in his eyes. He can rant all he wants, you know he’s excited his friends are getting closer with each other.

You point at the bag. “So where are we doing this?”

You half expect him to lecture you about rash hair decisions but he just gestures to the kitchen. “I figure right here should be fine. The tiles should be pretty easy to clean and probably could use some bleach anyway.”

He drags the chair with a rickety leg from the dining table. You dig through the bag and set everything on the counter. While Renjun cracks a window open, you begin to mix the developer and the bleach, curling your lip at the sharp scent. Renjun joins you, pulling on a pair of gloves.

“Wow that’s strong,” he says, wincing.

“Yeah,” you say. “Definitely a good idea to do it here.”

When the powder is finally combined, you sit on the chair, Renjun following behind you. You section off your hair together, then he grabs the bowl and the brush.

He holds the thick paintbrush brush up against your hair, glancing at you, giving you one last chance to back down. You give him the nod of approval and he shifts back to focusing on your hair, brushing the bleach into it as carefully as he spreads paint on a canvas. He works section by section, carefully drenching your hair with the creamy solution.

“So, are you going to tell me why you decided to do this?”

You can’t resist turning and glancing at him. “I thought you approved.”

“I didn’t try to talk you out of it,” he says, “that doesn’t mean I’m not curious about how you came to this decision.”

You nod until Renjun uses his gloved hand to hold your head straight. “I suppose that’s fair.”

You pause, trying to find the right words. But you find yourself drifting back to Renjun. Why didn’t he ask this before the bleach was in your hair? It’s not like him to keep his opinions to himself. When you first met him, he was yelling at Donghyuck for going to a philosophy seminar just to fight with the notorious bigot of a professor (which Donghyuck did and then got kicked out, and proceeded to get the professor suspended). You only knew Mark back then, a friend from another class who invited you to meet some of his other friends in the dining hall. When Renjun turned to ask what you thought, you said Donghyuck should do what he thinks is right. Renjun didn’t hesitate to call you an idiot then. So why isn’t he calling you an idiot now?

To his credit Renjun doesn’t rush you. He continues to paint the bleach into your hair, content to wait for you to figure out an answer. Except you’re thinking about all the wrong questions. Like, seriously, why do you want him to call you an idiot?

“I want a change,” you finally say. “I’m stuck in a degree that will make me absolutely no money when I graduate, I can’t afford to break my lease, and don’t have any major relationships that need upheaving, so, hair.”

“‘A change?’” Renjun repeats. “Like, you woke up this morning and thought, today I’m going blonde?”

“Like, I have this feeling in my chest, this aching feeling that there’s something I need to do, someone I’m supposed to be, something more than the person I see in the mirror but I’ve made my decisions and I’m happy with my decisions and I genuinely like who I am. So, hair.”

You see Renjun’s hand falter out of the corner of your eye, halfway between the bleach mixture and your hair. He freezes for a heartbeat then continues to move, lifting some hair off your ear, careful not to brush the bleach onto your skin.

“‘So, hair,’” he says.

“Are you really going to repeat everything I say?”

This gets a short laugh from him. “I think the fumes are getting to me already.” He pauses, setting down the brush and stepping in front of you. “For what it’s worth, I like who you are, too. I’m really glad we’re friends.”

You smile at him. “Me too,” you say. “I definitely would have fucked up trying to bleach this on my own.”

“There’s still some bleach left,” Renjun says after he finishes with your roots. “You’re sure you don’t want your eyebrows to match?”

“Why don’t we do your eyebrows,” you say. “Better yet, why don’t we shave them off?”

Renjun sets down the brush. “Okay, no eyebrows.”

You grin at him. “That’s what I thought.”

He helps you get a plastic bag wrapped securely over your head, then sets the timer.

“What do you want to do for the next half hour?” You ask. “Preferably something that requires little to no movement.” You gesture to your head. “We’re not winning any frisbee tournaments tonight.”

“It was one time,” Renjun mutters, shaking his head and stepping around you plop down onto the couch. “We can watch something.”

You follow him, sitting on the other side, a cushion between you. The space feels strangely empty. Though you’ve spent plenty of time alone with Renjun, even alone with him at his apartment, the silence is usually interrupted by one of the guys getting bored of playing League, or coming back because they can’t go out to a bar without someone forgetting their ID, or in desperate need of Renjun’s expert advice (read: Jeno never remembers to ask Renjun to look over his submissions until 12 minutes before they’re due). The cushion between you never stays empty for long but the moments stretch on, only making the distance feel greater.

You wonder, not for the first time, how long it’s been since you’ve thought of Renjun as just a friend. If he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much about what he thinks. And if he was just a friend, you wouldn’t care so much that he suddenly doesn’t think.

You sneak a glance at him, fiddling with the remote for a couple seconds before realizing he grabbed the wrong one. He’s certainly always been handsome—that was undeniable from the moment you met him. But more than just being good looking, it’s Renjun himself. Not just those dark eyes, but the way they burn with passion (even when he’s arguing about the proper number of appetizers to order). It’s his perfectly shaped lips, the way they betray how he feels with a slight curve up or down—and his smile. Always, always his smile, beautiful and breathtaking even though you’ve seen it a thousand times.

He turns, a little furrow in his brow. “What?”

“Hm?”

“You’re looking at me funny,” he says. “Did I get bleach in my hair or something?”

You turn to face the TV, trying to pay attention to the show Renjun chose. “I wasn’t looking at you funny,” you say. “I wasn’t even looking at you.”

“If you say so,” Renjun says, “but if there’s a blonde spot anywhere in my hair, I’m so making you pay for it.”

You shake your head. Where the hell did those thoughts come from? Renjun, more than a friend? Sure, you’re close with him and sure, he’s objectively attractive, but you’ve never had those thoughts before. Well, at least not sober.

“Um, why are we watching Singles Inferno?”

“Because I asked and you were too busy not staring at me to answer, so I put it on,” Renjun says. “And don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t like it. I saw you rant on your Instagram story the other day.”

“Okay, but you don’t get it,” you say. “This bitch really has the audacity to to—”

“I saw your post,” Renjun says. “Believe me, I get it.”

“If you didn’t want to hear about it you should not have turned it on, because now I can’t stop,” you say. Renjun rolls his eyes but even as you delve into a full on essay about the horrible men particularly common in dating shows, you see the corners of his lips tilt up into a smile.

The timer goes off halfway through an episode.

“Saved by the buzzer,” Renjun says. “I’m putting a ban on anything reality TV related for the next three hours.”

“You’re the one that brought it up,” you mutter without any real annoyance. Despite his banter, Renjun dutifully listened to your rants, and even got mad along with you.

You drag a chair to the sink while Renjun drapes a towel over your shoulders. He puts on gloves and unwraps the bag, letting your hair fall into the empty sink.

“Close your eyes,” Renjun says gently. He tilts your head back, cupping the back of your head for a moment before pulling the head of the sink faucet out. He runs the water, long enough for you to peek your eyes open.

You’ve gotten used to seeing Renjun focused. He gets a little furrow in his brow, always glaring at his work. Before you were friends, you used to think he was actually angry, that his frowns and short tone were real. You’ve learned since then, it’s not his emotions, it’s his passion. The frown only comes out when he’s focused, trying to be perfect. When he cares.

“Unless you want bleach in them, close your eyes,” Renjun mutters, with absolutely no malice behind the words. His eyes shift to meet yours and that’s how you know you’re right. He can glare and bluster all he wants, he can’t hide his eyes, warm and shining. Like when he’s looking at his art, his gaze is a combination of soft and intense, creating something stronger than affection. Except he’s not looking at his art, he’s looking at you.

You squeeze your eyes shut, feeling your heartbeat pick up. Despite every attempt to shut down the thoughts, they race through your head, a stampede grown out of control. Renjun, who you’ve only known a year and a half but who has become one of your closest friends. Renjun, who never fails to share the only opinion you really care about. Renjun, who you can’t imagine life without. Renjun, who you’ve never dared to imagine life with.

He places a hand on your forehead, bringing the faucet closer to rinse your roots while keeping the water from pouring onto your face. You prepare for a cold shock but the water that soaks into your hair is the perfect temperature—not scalding hot, not freezing cold. Some water sprays over his hand, falling onto your eyelids and cheeks.

“Sorry,” Renjun murmurs. He holds the head farther away, running his fingers gently through the roots of your hair. He’s so close you can feel his breath, warm against your temple. You can feel his body, hovering over yours, and maybe it’s just your imagination, but warmth seems to emanate from it.

His friends would laugh at you if you described Renjun as soft to their face, but it’s the only adjective that captures the way he works the water through your hair. Soft and gentle and careful and nothing like the Renjun that has to corral everyone into his car at 3 in the morning. And yet this Renjun doesn’t feel like a stranger to you.

Washing your hair takes a lifetime, but as soon as he steps away and turns off the water, you miss it. You miss him, even though he’s only a couple feet away.

“You can open your eyes now,” he says. As soon as you do, he tosses a towel at you. It hits you in the face before you can get your hands up.

“Hey!”

“Sorry,” Renjun says, not sounding sorry at all. He manages to hold back the laugh but still grins at you, unashamed. He steps forward and pats your face dry, with the same gentleness as before, though there’s still a mischievous glint in his eyes. You yank the towel away before he gets any ideas, drying off your face on your down and wrapping it around your hair. You wring it out a couple times before letting go, doing your best to get it to fall evenly around your head.

You raise your eyebrows at Renjun. “Okay, how bad is it?”

“Okay, first of all, I’m insulted that you think there’s any way I’d fuck up you hair,” Renjun says. “And it looks really good. Blonde suits you.”

You take a deep breath and pull out your phone, studying yourself in the mirror and… he’s right. The color is even, somewhere between blonde and orange that is unavoidable when using bleach. Radical hair changes generally end in tears but looking at yourself in the mirror, you don’t feel the usual dissonance. The hair is different but somehow more familiar than the “normal” you that doesn’t feel right anymore.

“I’m right,” Renjun says.

You smile. “Yeah, you are.” You put down your phone, meeting his eyes. “Thank you, Renjun.”

“For what?”

“Doing all of this for me,” you say.

“It’s the least I could do,” he mumbles. “You’re my friend.”

You shake your head. “Thank you anyways.”

Renjun just shrugs and grabs the bowl, rinsing out the bleach in the sink. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he’s avoiding your eyes.

You do your best to clean up the bleach from the floor, busying yourself until Renjun finishes. You wonder if you’re imagining the tiles getting a little bit whiter. Finally, he turns off the water and glances at you.

“You’re really happy with it?” He asks, sounding more like he doubts you rather than changing his opinion.

“Yeah,” you say, standing up. “I think it’s the ‘me’ of right now, you know?”

“Not really.”

“Like, I feel disjointed, and blonde hair is definitely not me, but it's the me that feels kind of all over the place, so even though it doesn’t look like me, it looks like me.” You wring your hands together, fingers tinged red.

“That makes no sense,” Renjun says, “but I think I get what you mean.” He smiles. “And I’m glad. I wouldn’t want you to have any regrets.”

So he did think this was a potential mistake? Why didn’t he say anything?

Renjun turns back to the sink, but before he can turn the water on, your voice calls his name. “Renjun?”

“Hm?” He doesn’t turn around.

“Why didn’t you fight me on this?”

He doesn’t move for a long moment. You wish you could see his face. “I have been told by certain people,” he begins, which is code for Donghyuck and Yangyang certified their position as Renjun’s worst nightmare. He turns to face you, wiping his hands on a towel.

“That I have a tendency to be overly opinionated in a generally negative direction. And I thought about it, and I realized I'm never really fully supportive, whether it’s a big decision, or, like, coffee, and I’ve always been this way, but, apparently, it’s especially… apparent with you.” He frowns. “This is all coming out wrong. I’m trying to say that it’s different when I’m around you. I’m different.”

Your eyes jump between his, trying to decipher what he’s saying. “Different?”

“I care a lot about you,” Renjun says, “more than anyone, actually.”

“Oh.” You blink once, twice. “Wait, you like me?”

Renjun’s eyes shift to the floor. “Yeah.”

You can’t help but let out a short laugh, reeling at the absurdity of it all. Renjun likes you? But he’s Renjun. Even though he’s the most common main character in your daydreams, you never once realistically thought he might be fantasizing about you too. But he likes you.

“I really didn’t want to say anything, I mean, before anything else you’re my friend, and I don’t want to ruin that,” Renjun says rapidly. “We’re good friends, and I really didn’t want to be the guy that pretends to be your friend but just wants to date you the whole time, that’s really not what I was trying to do, it’s just—”

“Renjun.” You put a hand on his shoulder and he freezes mid sentence, mouth still hanging open a little. Before he can move, you lean closer, the type of line you’d only dare to cross in your dreams.

“I’d like to kiss you,” you say softly. He blinks, eyes darting between your eyes and your lips.

“I’d like that,” he finally breathes. So you kiss him.

It starts light, his lips exactly as you imagined—soft and warm. His arm works its way around your waist, pulling you closer. The other works its way into your hair, still wet and sticking to your head. Renjun kisses like he’s been planning this for a long time, and maybe he has. Every movement is slow and careful, until he’s stolen all your air and even then you don’t want to pull away.

Your bravery fades the minute you meet his eyes. You bury your face into his chest, your cheek resting against your own hand. Renjun wraps both of his arms around you, holding you snugly in place.

“I like you, too,” you say into his chest. It’s the cowards route but if you look him in the eyes the words will never come out. “If it wasn’t obvious.”

“It wasn’t actually,” he says softly. “I think I drove all of my friends insane trying to figure out whether I should confess or not.”

“They all know?” You groan. “We’re never going to hear the end of this.”

“Yeah.” When Renjun laughs, it shakes your whole body. You can feel the rumbling, overtaking his heartbeat. “It’s okay though. It’s worth it.”

You turn your head, emerging from the sanctuary of his chest and tucking your head so that you can see his face. He smiles at you with the familiar warmth you’ve come to expect.

“Yeah,” you say, “it really is.”

Renjun grins.

“Your hair on the other hand…” He says.

“I thought you liked it!”

“I like it,” Renjun says, “but when has Donghyuck ever liked a single change to anyone’s hair?”

“Since when do you care what Donghyuck thinks?”

“I’m just saying now that we’re officially dating, my friends are going to be extra annoying,” Renjun says.

“Extra annoying? I didn’t think that was possible.”

“Don’t underestimate them.”

You groan, pressing your face back into his chest. “It’s not too late to get some hair dye.”

“You are not changing your hair because of my dumbass friends,” Renjun says.

“You like it?”

“You like it,” he says. “That’s the only opinion that really matters.” He pauses then adds, “But yeah. I like it.”

You grin, lifting your head to kiss his cheek. “Maybe we should dye your hair too.”

Renjun snorts. “Oh yeah?”

“We could have matching couples hair.”

He laughs out loud this time. “Maybe we should just get some shirts.”

“Three minutes of dating and you already want matching shirts? Huang Renjun, be honest.” You push off of him until you can place your hands on his shoulders and look him in the eyes. “Are you obsessed with me?”

“Yes,” he says, layering his voice in sarcasm that still isn’t enough to hide the truth of the admission. “All day every day, all I think about is you.”

“Well, see, that can’t be true because if you were that obsessed and I’m this close, you would already be kissing me because—” You forget whatever you were going to say, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when Renjun is kissing you like this. Your hands at his shoulders slink around his neck, while his wrap around your waist, leaning so close to you, you feel your back begin to dip.

Huang Renjun is poison, the kind that turns into a heart-shaped puff of pink when the bottle is opened. You melt into his kiss and it’s still not enough. You could die, right this instant, and you don’t think you’d notice. Death itself wouldn’t be able to tear you away from this moment.

“Renjun!” Donghyuck’s voice thunders through the kitchen. “How dare you? You bastard, you’re cheating?”

You jump apart, turning to see him looming in the doorway. His glare settles on you, and you see the exact moment he realizes he recognizes you.

“Jesus Christ, you could have knocked or something,” Renjun says.

“I live here too,” Donghyuck says automatically. He squints, then looks at Renjun, then back at you. “YN? Your hair is blonde.”

For some reason, you raise your hand and wave at him. “Hey!”

“Oh my god!” Donghyuck cries. “Yangyang owes me thirty dollars!” He races back out the door, screaming something that’s lost as the door swings shut.

You glance at Renjun. “Cheating?”

He frowns at the door, still a crack open. “Did he… seriously think you were someone else? That I was cheating on my unrequited crush?”

His eyes shift to yours. A heartbeat passes and you burst into laughter. His friends might be annoying, but they’re still endearing. You press a messy, smile-infested kiss to his lips and wonder if you’ll ever get used to the giddy feeling.

There’s plenty messy in your life, plenty to doubt. But watching Yangyang and Donghyuck drag their backpacks in (apparently Donghyuck forgot his power bank and they decided to give up on camping) as they attempt to interrogate Renjun on every detail, you can’t help but feel like it doesn’t really matter. You don’t doubt Renjun. You don’t doubt blonde suits you. And you don’t doubt the power of a last minute hair decision, not anymore.

thank you for reading!! likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated

#🌟 stars galaxy #nct #nct dream #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct reader #nct fanfic #nct dream fanfic #nct dream fluff #nct fluff #renjun #renjun fluff #huang renjun #nct renjun

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drawing-prompt-s · 7 months

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GoFundMe - Apartment Transfer

Really did not think that I would be making one of these again. But yours truly, Prompt Prophet, cannot catch a break. Every time that I think I am it seems to them just be ripped right back away.

Note: any further proof you require, please contact me at my main, @prophet-rebellion, and I will do what I can to show you.

$400/$400

Links:

GoFundMe

PayPal

Venmo

Please note that this following update means that anybody who wanted to send additional funds for my current roommates cat - Do Not. I want nothing to do with her. Her cat did nothing but after all this I am done. Not funds had been sent for that cat yet but they had been inquired about being a possibility.

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TL;DR - my apartment that told me they were moving my nightmare of a roommate with something called a forced transfer, then apparently reversed their decision (despite documentation) and did not tell me. The only way for me to get out now is to pay a $300 Transfer Fee + Applicable costs to get out as soon as I can. Giving up the apartment I have lived at for almost 2 years now.

The full explanation I gave is under the cut.

Please note I do not want to be doing this, and as soon as I hit $400 the GoFundMe is getting closed. People are struggling enough right now and I hate asking for monetary help when I know this much.

But god, for the sake of myself and my cat I cannot do this. I can't live here with her anymore, but I can't break my lease either.

FULL EXPLANATION (copied from GoFundMe):

Many of you know me for raising funds regarding my cats, either in the search for one of them as being missing, or more recently to raise funds for the other for ear mite treatment.

We reached the full goal of ear mite treatment within 24 hours of the fundraiser being set up - and it feels wrong in a sense to add the funds to that GoFundMe. The Ear Mite treatment is still happening and I fully intend to post an update photo of her at the vet there when I can.

However, to this end, so much as I do not want to be asking for help.

Living with my current roommate is hell. Cut and dry. She is vindictive, rude, loud, and confrontational. Her own cat has a tendency to attack my own and has on many occasions. This roommate was moved into the apartment in June, I have been here for more than a year and a half.

I will save you most of the story because there is an incredible amount, honestly, and I have cried more than my fair share today. My body is threatening more tears as I work through writing this now.

Incredibly important note: one of my old roommates is moving back in, she is a good friend of mine. However, given all that my current one has done, the original roommate refuses to move back if the current one is still present. I cannot blame her as the actions of my current roommate have driven me to locking myself in my room 24/7, along with my ESA. I wish that this was an exaggeration. It is not.

The brunt of the situation comes down to this:

We had mediation, my current roommate and I, and it was about as useless as you would believe it to be.

Nothing changed, in fact any things reverted back to the way they had been or seemingly got worse.

I went to speak with the property manager one-on-one to bring the full story to light along with evidence to backup what I was saying. I completely broke down at this point in time. I cannot break my lease, I cannot escape my current roommate - I am caged.

What was decided in that meeting was that they would be performing a forcible transfer of my roommate - she would be moving to another apartment, same layout, same size room, etc. But out. We would then phase my soon-to-be roommate back in (she had not originally renewed her lease because she was going to be gone for some time). This meeting was on Friday. I was told by the property manager that the following Monday she was going to have a meeting with my current roommate and inform her of this. The whole process would supposedly take about 2 weeks. (It should also be included that my current roommate has had multiple violations of her lease which I had documented). This decision was then further documented by an email they sent to my soon-to-be roommate stating that upon her arrival into the apartment, my current roommate would be gone. So this is an actual documented decision.

The two weeks was almost up and nothing had been heard, my roommate had not packed, etc. So yesterday (October 17th) I sent an email to which I got no reply. Today (October 18th) I went and spoke to the leasing manager (different from the Property Manager, whom is ranked just above her). the LM had no idea what I was talking about. She then spoke with the PM, who I had met with and called me back.

Apparently, the Property Manager, in her meeting the following Monday decided that actually we would continue to live together. My current roommate would no longer be moved out. This sudden change was not communicated to myself or my soon-to-be roommate who was refiling her lease under the impression the issue would be gone.

No curtsey to respond to my email, no honoring a DOCUMENTED decision. Etc. Just radio silence to me.

The only two options available are this - since they are now also giving my soon-to-be (hopefully) roommate a hard time about her income.

1. Myself and my soon-to-be roommate are moved from our original apartment to a different and fully vacant apartment.

(This is the decision we are going with on the grounds that my STB roommate be accepted).

2. My STB roommate does not move in at all and cancels her lease process, leaving me along in the apartment with my devil of a roommate and her cat that keeps attacking my own.

This second option is not sustainable. I am breaking, entirly. I am so tired, and so done with this all.

I do not want to give up where I have lived for almost two years becuase the actions of a vindictive new arrival. But I cannot stay here. If I could break my lease then I would. Because the Property Manager is the highest authority present at the office there is nobody I can go to above her that will hold her to her documented word and honor it. (I did but in a request to the corporation that owns my complex to speak with them about her conduct, but I doubt anything will come of it outside of retaliation).

The reality of option 1 however, is that it is no longer considered a forced transfer. Meaning that i have to pay the transfer fee listed in my lease of $300 plus applicable fees ("convenience" fee and card transfer %). I cannot move apartments until this fee is paid.

Therefore I am setting the amount at $400 to account for the percentage that GFM takes, and the amount that the apartments themselves will be taking on.

I have no set goal for how fast this will be filled, but by God, the sooner the better. I am not renewing my lease and remaining her after it ends in June.

#prompt prophet #gofundme

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syrena-del-mar · 4 months

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Blind Spots of Motherhood: Last Twilight, Episode 10

We're coming off of the emotional rollercoaster of last week's episode and seeing the consequences of Day and Mhok's getaway. And the consequences are big, which not even Night can assuage.

I love scouring the tags as I watch Last Twilight, and I've been seeing many call Day's mom evil or a narcissist. In my opinion, she does not fit the bill (if you're looking for one that is, go watch Twins, now that's a narcissist). There's a tendency of wanting to villainize mothers, and BLs do a great job of giving us mothers that do fill that role, but I sincerely don't think that's the story P'Aof is trying to tell us here. Rather than evil, I think her arc is more about being a flawed mother that does more harm than good through overparenting, her perceiving Day to be more vulnerable than he really is, and sidelining of Night.

Stages of Adjustment to Vision Loss

Just like the seven stages of grief, similarly there's a theory about the seven phases of adjusting to vision loss. The Stages of Adjustment applies not only to the one suffering the vision loss, but even their friends and family.

Phase 1: Trauma, where personal attitudes and generalization form one's personal view of a person who is blind takes over.

Phase 2: Shock and Denial. Self-explanatory.

Phase 3: Mourning and Withdrawal, it's where the loss of regular activities and routines occur.

Phase 4: Succumbing and Depression occurs when an individual is unable to come to terms with the sudden low vision/blindness and they stop caring for themselves. Feelings of inadequacy becomes prevalent.

Phase 5: Reassessment and Reaffirmation occurs when individuals regain and maintain control of their life. Loved ones play a significant role in assisting them to reach this independence at this stage.

Phase 6: Coping and Mobilization happens when individuals develop coping techniques to live with the vision loss and acknowledge their abilities and accept when the need assistance.

Phase 7: Self-Acceptance and Self-Esteem occurs when the individual realizes that they have value and their loss of vision is just one of the many attributes.

When the Last Twilight first started, we met Day as he was dealing with Phase 3 and 4. With the help of Mhok, we've seen Day grow in his independence, but also come to terms that his vision loss may be forever. He no longer was thinking and hoping for that transplant surgery, he wasn't even counting on it anymore. Instead, with the help of Mhok (and Night), Day was able to reach Phase 6 and was transitioning into Phase 7.

But just as Day was moving on with his, his mother wasn't. She's still struggling with his disability and has gotten stuck in Phase 3 and 4, just as Day had been. She's so blinded by Day's disability, that she's drowning in the fears of what could happen to Day rather than seeing the strides of improvement that he has made.

Overprotective Parenting fails in Harm Reduction: Day

"Expecting him to be independent at one time and overprotecting him at another will only result in a frustrated youngster. It is important to judge and treat the blind child fairly; not indulging him, yet not setting goals and expectations so high that he is discouraged." -The Blind Child: Becoming an Independent Adult

Day's mother is frustrating, to say the least. She is so incredibly misguided in how she treats both of her sons, it's no surprise that Day locks himself away into the cavern of his bedroom.

She only sees Day for his disability. Acknowledging and accepting that Day is blind is important, and that does signify life adjustments, but that doesn't mean making Day's blindness the only thing about him. She forgets that Day was a full-functioning adult that had his own lifestyle before he lost his sight. She's only come to known Day for his blindness. She's the one that puts his blindness at the forefront.

She wants him to get out of his bedroom, to stop locking people out, but once he has some sense of independence, apart from his family, now she's afraid? Her son, vision loss or no vision loss, is an adult, but instead of giving him such dignity, she regresses and infantilizes him. She pushes him back into that suffocatingly big bedroom. She takes away his phone, his internet, every tool that connects him to the outside world. She takes away what little independence he had started to build up again.

Any good parent would be worried about their child who has undergone a traumatic event, but over-protecting does more harm than good. In her anxieties, she ends up resorting to using unintentionally abusive tactics. Yes, Day would be physically fine, but in her overprotectiveness, she fails to realize that it could lead to dependency inducement, learned helplessness, and bouts of depression. Day's mother fails to realize that taking away any autonomy that Day has only started rebuilding, would only result in Day's emotional state worsening.

Blindness doesn't have to mean debilitating, but locking your son up in his room without any way to interact with the world around him that he is trying to relearn? That's more crippling than any vision loss could ever be.

Readjusting as the Glass Child: Night

"The most egregious form of rejection that anyone can ever experience is parental rejection" -Is Rejection, Parental Abandonment or Neglect a Trigger for Higher Perceived Guilt in Adolescents

Oh man, the pain I felt for Night this whole episode was next level. The idea of a glass child is not one's delicateness but rather as a sibling of a individual with disabilities, the sibling becomes invisible to the parents, only seen when the parents need them. If it wasn't obvious before, it's clear that this was the role that their mother was forcing Night into.

There's nothing that hurts worse than the sharp words of a mother directed to her child. His mother explicitly blaming Night for Day's disability was a new low-blow. Night had already been beating himself up for the accident, his father (who doesn't even live with them) knew that, but seemingly their mother was oblivious. The only one that Night could rely on was an outsider, a father that they hadn't been in contact with for years. Their mother created that environment by not paying attention to her other son, who was also in that accident.

Nothing fuels sibling rivalry like preferential treatment from parents. Even worse when one has to be the caretaker of the other when they already have a fractured relationship. Instead of easing the tension between the two brothers, their mother is too busy worrying solely for Day without accounting for Night. Caretaker burnout is already incredibly exhausting when you're caring for a loved one, but Night has personal guilt and Day's resentment to deal with as well. Not once does their mother ask him how he's doing, if Night is alright.

Night is the forgotten child, the child that's expected to take care of his brother no matter what, no matter how independent Day has become. She has parentified Night without any consideration of how he was doing or what was going on in his life. This was probably already a running theme as they grew up, assuming from their positioning in the family portrait. In doing so, she unknowingly worsens the strife with the brothers, making Day believe that Night had only been "behaving well" in order to win some preferential treatment from her.

Even on Christmas, their mother only cares for Day, feeding him first and putting food on his spoon, body fully turned against Night. In that scene, visually Night seems like he's intruding and he feels it as well! It's why he excuses himself, saying that he's going to meet up with some friends. Even after being forgiven by Day, his mother doesn't make any effort to include Night other than just having him at the table. It's as if he wasn't part of their nuclear family, just a convenient body that is there to help out as Day adjusts to his new life. If it hadn't been for Day, Night would have left that table that night and would have believed that nobody cared for him. I'm hoping this makes her confront and reassess how she's treated Night, now and in the past.

It's ironic, even though Day is blind and held a lot of contempt for his brother, he was still saw Night and all his struggles. Meanwhile, their mother was seeing right through him, blaming him for what happened to Day. Driving a dagger, that Night had already stabbed himself with, even deeper.

Final Thoughts

I'm not quite ready to jump on the 'Mother Gothel' train for Day and Night's mom. I think she is juggling being a career woman and being a mother at the same time, while failing to adjust to Day's blindness and making mistakes in her parenting as a result.

I also don't think it's out of maliciousness or self-importance, either. When I see their mother, it's as if she's trying to save a sinking boat that is already pierced by numerous holes. There's no going back to their lives before Day's blindness. She needs to adjust her priorities, because disregarding Night and locking up Day is not the answer.

This episode was frustrating, not because I found her to be outright abusive, but because of her worries she ends up hurting her sons even more. No parent is perfect, and they can hurt you while thinking they're acting in your best interest, but they have to be willing to love and let their kids learn on their own.

#last twilight #lol I think I lost most of my reasoning when working on Night’s part bc I was getting upset oops #last twilight episode 10 #last twilight meta #mhokday #morkday #last twilight mhok #last twilight day #last twilight night #jimmy jitaraphol #sea tawinan #mark pakin #thai bl #thai bl meta #aof noppharnach #steph rambles #last twilight the series

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maleyanderecafe · 8 months

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Idyllic Island (Webcomic)

Created by: maryonnaise

Genre: Drama/Horror

To be fair, I did actually see this webcomic floating around when I was checking the yandere tag, but it kept going in and out of my attention for a bit. Now that it's finished though, man reading the entire thing at once is quite a trip. This comic is r18 though as it breaches topics of things like rape, self harm, suicide, PTSD and a lot of other things. If you are interested in this webcomic or others that are similar, check out @maryonnaise for more things.

The story starts out with Caleb reliving the trauma of being robbed at gunpoint at his job as a cashier. Due to this, he often will smoke weed and play a game called Idyllic Island to calm himself down (basically Animal Crossing). He seems to have suicidal tendencies and gains a crush on a pink haired customer who comes to the store. After suffering another panic attack due to a TV report on his robbery (as it turns out he was robbed by a fake gun), he ends up being taken advantage of by a coworker. Soon after it gets worse as he's fired from his job. He ends up hanging out with the pink haired girl he has a crush on in the alleyway back of the store and plays never have I ever with him, but with stripping rules. Eventually after a heated deep discussion, Caleb asks Bunny to slice his chest so that he can feel something, and Bunny, entertained by his company gives him her apartment number so they can hang out again.

A month later and Caleb comes to Bunny’s apartment to hang out where the two play blackjack. Winner makes the loser do what they want. Caleb talks about his trauma with Bunny and Bunny offers to help him with exposure therapy, showing him a realistic gun (that’s really a water gun). Caleb is able to win, leading to Bunny reenacting the robbery with him, but Caleb ultimately passes out. Afterwards the two of them have sex and Caleb admits that he’ll do anything for Bunny. Caleb then steal birth control pills for Bunny with the gun in his pocket as a way to do the exposure therapy before they drive over to the rich district. Bunny reveals that his dad is a rich lawyer and ends up parking in front of a house. Bunny tells Caleb that the man who robbed him was declared innocent thanks to her dad and that they are in front of the robbers home right now. Bunny re-enacts a scene of Caleb storming up and threatening the guy which Caleb is successfully about to do. However, when he does try to storm in, he falters and ends up vomiting before the two are chased by the cops. Bunny reveals that it wasn’t actually his house and the two end up bonding, becoming exclusive with each other.

While at Bunny’s apartment, Bunny cuts his hair before hiding Caleb when her dad comes. Her dad scolds her for getting bad grades and threatening to no longer pay the apartment if she doesn’t do better before leaving. In a rage, Bunny attempts to kill Caleb, but backs down when Caleb accepts his fate. She reveals that she was sexually assaulted when she was in school, leading her to try to kill herself and getting hospitalized. Caleb confesses that the two should run away together upon hearing this.

The two of them end up going to a romantic place near a cliff side before Bunny reveals that she’s invited someone to meet him. She gives him the gun and tells him to use it to threaten him if things get bad. Initially Caleb is very against this idea before finally accepting it as he believes he will do anything for Bunny. A man named Ethan comes and seems pretty angry that Bunny isn’t there. While talking, Ethan essentially admits to raping Bunny, causing Caleb to whip out the gun in anger. Ethan doesn’t seem phased by this at all, attempting to guilt trip Caleb into saying that he was there on the night this happened and that he was too high to do anything. Ethan also calls his bluff on the gun, causing Caleb to snap when he points out that he was tricked by a similar gun when he was robbed. Caleb ends up shooting Ethan in the back (it’s a real gun, surprise) and Ethan beats him up, only for Caleb to stab him in the eye in self defense. Bunny comes to stab him in the chest, killing him for good, praising Caleb on how proud she is of him.

Caleb freaks out after seeing Bunny kill Ethan, and is afraid that she will kill him next. Bunny ends up deposing the body by throwing Ethan off the cliff and faking a suicide note. She’s able to convince Caleb this was a good thing since he had raped other women as well. The two of them kiss afterwards believing that they can help others if they get rid of the terrible people in this world.

In the epilogue, Caleb and Bunny are in a party dressed up. The two are able to get two others to sleep with them before Bunny kills one of them outright. As Bunny goes to kill the other, Caleb plays Idyllic island, completely deafened to the screams.

First of all, I gotta say that this webcomic is very raw with it's colors and I like it. That being said, I'm sure the more neon greens and pinks are probably not something that everyone will like, but I honestly think it adds to the heighten emotions that the two of them have. The comic is really good at showing what it feels like to have trauma via PTSD symptoms, with Caleb for instance gaining more masochistic tendencies (well, MORE, I assume) because of his lack of control and his reliance on Idyllic Island and weed to calm himself down. Meanwhile Bunny is opposite, as her trauma makes her a lot more cold and she instead develops more sadistic tendencies to gain control, which eventually leads to more killing. I also like how casual the two of them are for the story, and nothing feels too dramatic or out of place (in my opinion). For both of them (but especially Caleb) it becomes a downward spiral that they can't get out of, and probably will lead to their downfall at the very end.

Caleb is a kind of strange case of a more submissive yandere because he's so desperate to relinquish control that it ends up getting him used and broken. He seems completely devoted to Bunny despite the two not knowing her for very long, and following along with everything that she does, whether it be something that he's afraid of or something that he feels is wrong. He's very easily manipulated by Bunny even afterwards, just being dragged along with a leash so that Bunny can go around killing people. He's willing to get killed by Bunny when she tries to attack him and seems to try his best to get anything that Bunny wants. The real question is if the two end up breaking up, would Caleb still be desperately attaching onto Bunny, begging her to take him back or if he would be so broken that he would just accept it. In that case, Caleb would more likely to be a yandere in the former and not one in the latter. You feel bad for Caleb since if the robbery didn't happen, I would like to think that he would probably not be in such a bad situation. I will say that I do like it when when the yandere guy is actually in a lower situation than their lover and that their lover is the more dangerous one.

I both really like Bunny and find her kind of frightening. She is the opposite of Caleb-rich, sadistic and always wanting to be in control. The two share their experience of PTSD which connects them and while their reactions are different, it's enough to keep them together. Still despite the fact that Bunny does have a lot of traits of a yandere (namely, being cutesy, killing and manipulating people) I'm not entirely sure if she is a yandere because I don't know how attached she is to Caleb. Most of her killings come from a place of revenge, rather than a place of love (like protecting Caleb or trying to isolate him), which doesn't disqualify her as a yandere really, just usually are more traits of a yangire. I guess it all really depends on how much she actually cares for him, and if she's willing to throw him away or not. That's not to say that yangires can't love, but usually their main focus in life isn't love, and that's what I get from Bunny. Still, I do like (and relate) to Bunny on the aspect of sadism, since the way she describes it is generally how I feel towards it (though afaik I don't have any PTSD thankfully) so it is nice to see someone describe it in a way that feels relatable. I also absolutely love couples where the male yandere is actually the less scary of the two, since that means you really screwed up there buddy.

Overall though, I think it was a very unique and interesting concepts that are shown in the story, yandere or otherwise. I was reading their other comic recently and it's pretty funny. Being able to write a drama and a comedy is no easy feat. If you are interested, please check it out! It's not too long and it's on Tapas.

#Idyllic Island #male yandere #yandere #yandere boy #recommendations #comic #completed

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wrotelovelytears · 2 years

Text

If Astrology is Real..

yep I lied... sorta

♨The degree of your ascendant is the age in which you act the most like the sign. You might also physically embody the sign that rules that degree the most then, or start to do so.

♨Pisces with Aquarius placements say the most out of pocket things and come up with the most creative explanations/ insults.

♨Libras with Virgo placements care a lot about appearances, in a more muted and blending in way.

♨6th house Pisces have the wildest everyday experiences. They also have some very strong protection, even if they are a bit... Ditzy when it comes to trusting others

♨Scorpios with Libra placements can be some of the most openly expressive people when it comes to love.

♨12h house Leos (Virgo Risings) take everything personal. Like every time they called out its seen as them having a personal flaw that needs to be corrected. They will end up seeking reassurance that they aren't said flaw and try to consciously reject it while subconsciously embodying it due to focusing on it so much.

♨I know people say Taurus placements hate drama, in reality they hate to BE in drama. They love all the messy stories and gossip however.

♨I'd argue that Taureans have more of a tendency to try to organize everything in their life more than Caps or Virgos. The second house is the house of self worth, so the more you can control the "higher" your self worth feels.

🕳That does mean they struggle a lot with the idea of letting go, it implies they can't control everything and have to simply let it go✨

♨Taurus women definitely the folks that had a "I hate pink👀" phase just to later admit they didn't want to get bullied for liking it when they were younger. (Of course this applies to Taurus men and enbies as well, I highlighted women because they easily fall victim to misogyny (internalized and other).

♨Sorry, imma say it. Sagittarius women have a high tendency to be very misogynistic. Like they all about women empowerment in terms of "I'm better than xyz" "Down with the Patriarchy" and "women should be in the same positions of power as men (regardless if said position is harmful for the masses)". Yet they view other women as competition for the spots they want, and will easily drag another woman for something they wouldn't want another to say about them.

Example... Nicki M

♨Bout to air out my fellow Scorpios. Its not healthy to defend your partner/ ex when you hear someone talking about their behaviors, when you know damn well you dragged them for the same shit. Stop defending stuff you don't like about someone you (did) like because only you can drag them.

~These next couple of observations shouldn't be used to diagnose anyone or yourself. If you believe that you or someone you know fits in any of these categories, please seek out professional help. And know you (and them) aren't alone~

♨Almost every single person I've known with Scorpio in their big three/ Venus has had a cluster B personality disorder(ASPD- psychopathy/sociopath, NPD- narcissist, BPD- borderline, HPD- histrionic) and/or some other form of Neurodivergence (typically ADHD or Autism, some were Bipolar or another personality disorder cluster).

♨Speaking of Neurodivergence, almost every Sagittarius placement ive known has had what most people think of when mentioning ND (Autism, ADHD, dyslexia, tuorettes ). It was especially prominent in those with Virgo/6th house placements.

♨Pisces and 12th housers might actually deny getting help. They would acknowledge there is a problem and even speak on how much it impacts their lives, and then say they don't want to go to therapy or a psychiatrist. Its not that they don't believe in the mental health field, its more of a unconscious fear of being judged or mistreated due to their differences. (Might have also actually sought out help in the past just to be misled or belittled)

♨Gemini can be linked to dysgraphia, dyscalica, dyslexia etc.

🕳Gemini rules over communication, hands and short term/ quick thoughts. Due to that people with certain planets or even Gemini ruled have a higher chance of having one of the above.

🕳The third house having certain placements as well. (Saturn with restricting, Neptune with confusion and the Sun with ego)

♨Pisces/12th house could be looked at in terms of Body dysmorphia. The reason being is the 12th house is linked to the subconscious as well as that which is hidden from us. While Pisces is linked to illusions and fantasy. Having a heavy concentration of either could lead to certain thoughts about oneself. The house Pisces is in could show the area in which BDD is had.

♨Martians (Scorpios and Aries) need to keep their mental health in check. Aries starts to suffer from headaches, migraines and vision problems related to stress. While Scorpios suffer from reproductive organ issues (endometriosis, PCOS, erectile dysfunction etc) as well as increased bladder infections + hemorrhoids.

🕳Both these signs have a tendency to internalize stress (yes, even the imma punch you Aries), and their body suffers until they release it (healthily).

♨People with heavy Venusian (Taurus and/or Libra) traits need to look out in terms of stress experienced via relationships. When they get too stressed it starts to effect their metabolism. Higher lactic acid (leg cramp juice) and higher cortisone (stress juice) can lead to thyroid problems and bladder issues (infections galore).

♨Capricorns, while being known for good bone health are probably suffering due to Pluto being in Cap right now.

🕳Pluto being the planet of extremes means folks are pushing themselves further or just having some bad health in terms of their bones.

🕳The house Capricorn is in can hint to what bones are more effected during this time. (Check both your current Solar return and Natal chart)

🕳12th~feet and ankles, they probably hate you right now. In fact you should probably invest in some better shoes/see a podiatrist

🕳2nd~ your neck/ upper spine... invest in a neck pillow

🕳5th~ your spine and ribs, be careful while lifting things and sitting certain ways. Back pillows will be your best friend

♨Libras have a higher chance of being constipated (having IBS-C) while Virgos have a higher chance of diarrhea (having IBS-D).

🕳Libras also need to be careful in terms of hemorrhoids, reverse anus (please don't google this, if you do that's ya own fault hardheaded), and colon issues.

🕳Virgos need to be careful with dairy (the amount of lactose intolerant Virgos 🥴), gluten and any allergies they have because their guts (and ass) will definitely suffer if not.

♨Yet another point on Virgos... High stress leads to bad gut health. Bad gut health leads to bad mental health. The guts and mind are connected, please look out for both.

Any who... Err I am not "back" per say. I've just decided that its always going to be more important to take care of my physical and mental wellbeing. That does mean even when I like something I can't just push myself. I'm still healing from my surgeries and whatnot, yet being not able to walk around much has made my brain go on overdrive. So that three second "break" I took still applies. I'm just not going to be dramatic or whatever bout it anymore.

And no my readings are NOT open. At least not for now.

(If you learned something new or would just like to support me you can leave a wittle tip via the tip button or one of the links in my masterlist. Kofi: nymphdreams🧸)

#nymph writes astrology #astrology #astroblr #astro tumblr #astrology observations #astro notes #astro observations #astrology tumblr #health astrology #scorpio #pisces #aquarius #libra #virgo #taurus

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