#I don’t think they have therapists in the void | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

avpd-queer · 11 months

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I feel bad that my former best friend is in a toxic relationship and can’t see it, is throwing away their friends of over a decade for her, but I also can’t stop remembering how, when I shared with them that I had just learned I had been cheated on and gaslighted about it for 6 years, their response was concern about my abuser’s mental health. That conversation didn’t affect their relationship with him in the slightest, they didn’t try to be there for me or show up for me to him, and when I they learned that I was going to get back with that person just a few days later, expecting them to be like, “uh no I don’t think that’s a good idea” (like everyone else had done and like I expected from them, having told them “just don’t let any of your friends date him” when I shared that I was leaving him, thinking they could help me figure out where to sleep and how to adjust), they didn’t protest at all. I was glad to avoid the awkwardness of, “thank you for your concern but I don’t have other options and idk I guess I’m gullible but also I just really want to believe it’ll get better” but also hurt that they didn’t seem concerned for my well-being. Hoping that they just didn’t voice that part because I’m an adult and can make decisions and already know what advice I would give myself. I just had to cling to believing that, and thinking maybe they don’t understand what gaslighting is and that’s why they didn’t seem to care, even as they became less and less my friend and eventually dropped both of us for trying to set a boundary with them about their girlfriend. And the only way they offer for me to be there for them through their relationship is to stuff down all of my needs and feelings, go along with every whim of their girlfriend, and accept that we will never get time with them without her ever again. They kept pretending like everything was okay and they totally understood, when we were face-to-face, and then they’d go home and suddenly we’re horrible and need to apologize to her for…being her friend? Trying to get more time with our best friend? Being honest with our best friend when they ask why we haven’t been able to get closer to their girlfriend? We were trying to be adult and trust in the strength of our friendship, but they fully gave in to their girlfriend’s temper tantrum over her misinterpretation of messages she logged into their discord to read, and they have just fully thrown us away. Ghosted us for pride and haven’t communicated with us in any form since. We had some extra pizza from a canceled event at my partner’s work that I left on their doorstep and had my sister text about, and they responded that they were out of the country, visiting her family. Normally we have two weekly dnd sessions and 1-2 weekly hangout sessions - the first week of dnd was canceled and after that, they just never showed up. This month of nothing is one of the few months we had left before they were going to move to where her family lives in the US, like 10hr drive from here, being fully isolated with her, without a support system, away from the support system they haven’t been away from in like 8 years (when I was in New York - my partner was here during those 2 years, they were roommates).

I’m just so hurt. They meant so much to me, I planned on having them in my life for the rest of it. I knew in the last relationship they were in they let us fall to the side some but she broke up with them and they realized how absorbed they’d been and promised to not let it happen again. Before meeting the current girlfriend, who they immediately got absorbed into. I don’t know what the fuck to do.

#vent #I guess I’ll show this to my therapist #it’s hard to find the words when you’re not in the moment fully feeling the feelings and are talking to a stranger #instead of a blank void #my chest feels like a black hole #I keep thinking of cool people in my past who I was too scared to get to know #how I just got to know the people it was easiest to #because they weren’t intimidating #and this is the result #people tell me I have too high standards but? is this the result of the opposite? I’ve isolated myself as my mental health has gotten worse #and clung to the people who I thought cared about me the people who were easiest to keep in my life #and then those people turned out to not give a shit about me or need to have some kind of epiphany to realize I’m a human #being who they shouldn’t abuse #my adult relationships have just been emulating the treatment I got from my mom and oldest sister growing up #so much of the recurring shit from them has been recurring in my adult life too #never thought I would fall victim to the ‘you seek out the treatment you know’ trope #I guess #btw if there is a person reading this while I don’t always believe it for obvious reasons #I do think my partner just somehow didn’t realize how horrible he was being and is making progress now…he still falls short a lot in those #ways (I mean like not considering how his actions affect me or how I would feel about something and lashing out at me when he’s feeling #defensive not like…dropping a cup or forgetting something)#but it happens less #and he’s quicker to listen to me and understand and apologize #than he used to be #and not so weird and attack-y about his phone and computer and social medias #and he’s usually good about understanding it’ll be a process and the flip side of me being understanding of his growth being slow and non-li #near #is that I can’t get over years of abuse and a rewriting of my brain overnight #my mental health is so much worse after years of gaslighting and that’s going to take work on both of our ends #and he’ll have to create a space of trust and comfort with me not just expect it to be there magically

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anachronistic-falsehood · 1 year

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i remember. about a year ago when i was driving home from college. two hour drive going thru the highway endless fields on both sides. listening to fucken. imagine dragons and shit. suddenly started thinking about why i attached myself so thoroughly to dirk and dave strider and c!tommy and c!wilbur. realized the main connection between my relation to these characters was their incredibly fucked up sibling relationships that they didn’t know how to reconcile. started crying on the highway. and now i’m terribly horribly attached to vash the stampede and millions knives. WHEN WILL IT END

#GUESS WHOSE SISTER IS JUST ARRIVING!!!!!#IT KEEPS HAPPENING BRO #WHEN WILL THINGS EVER STOP KEEP HAPPENING #genuinely i was SOBBING in the car the road was blurry thru my tears a sad song came on and i cried harder #actually i don’t. know if it was a year ago??? it had to be either that or earlier bc i crashed my car around this time last year #but i could have sworn it wasn’t snowy when i realized this???? i don’t. know. genuinely.#i don’t rember. i forgor. but it was definitely after christmas i think???? maybe?? not sure actually maybe it wasn’t #um. fucked up…… memory gang???? how r we feeling????#my therapist said i’m showing some trauma responses from college in general so. hmm.#whiskey yelling into the void

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the-peak-tmnt · 3 months

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Hey The Neon Void readers, quick update from the author's sister!

(art commission by @kaysdenofchaos)

Hi readers of The Neon Void fanfic. This is the author’s older sister. She’s been getting a lot of fan art and asks lately. She’s sent me screenshots of a few unanswered ones looking for advice on how to respond.

While all the love and support of TNV is genuinely appreciated, my sister @sugarpasteltmnt is not equipped to respond to a small handful of these asks/comments that are, quite frankly, inappropriate.

Sugarpastels is not a therapist, and she’s certainly not an internet stranger’s therapist.

She’s an adult with an extremely demanding and stressful job for a very large client. Some of you have already experienced and enjoyed her work IRL without knowing it. Her company is close to finishing another project that will bring a lot of joy to hundreds of thousands of people every year, but working on a project of that scale is extremely stressful.

She is writing this fanfic for fun. TNV is a way for her to decompress and put her creative energy towards something other than work.

What’s not fun is coming home to asks/comments from readers who are projecting their own struggles/mental health onto TNV, and even Sugarpastels herself, and demanding some sort of attention from her over it.

Let’s be real: it’s fun to watch our blorbos suffer! So much of fandom is just us putting our favorite characters in Situations because it’s fun. Simple as that. But I think another reason TNV has resonated so strongly with readers is because of the way Sugarpastels writes the internal struggles of these characters.

We are both aware that TNV deals with mental health topics. Since the early days of “modern” fandom, fanfiction has been a way for people to explore complicated, difficult and sometimes even taboo subjects. There’s no shortage of complex feelings being explored in TNV, which is why we’re all having so much fun reading it.

But that’s all it is; an exploration. Sugarpastels is not a mental health expert. I’ve read a handful of books on PTSD and mindfulness for research while writing my own fanfic, and I would never consider myself prepared to help someone else.

It’s okay if you relate to things from TNV. I know I do! Again, fanfic has always been a way to read about things rarely dealt with (or handled poorly) in published fiction/tv shows/movies. I will always argue one of the greatest things about fanfiction and other fanworks is being able to see ourselves and our own struggles through our favorite fictional characters.

But Sugarpastels is not a fictional character. She’s a real person. Most importantly (to me at least) she’s my little sister, and this big sister cannot handle watching some of her readers expect more of her than is appropriate.

So I’m asking you to please be mindful of what you ask/say to not just her, but literally everyone on the internet. Unless you’re chatting with someone regularly, they do not know you. Whether it’s friends, family, teachers, coaches, etc, there are people in your life who know you personally, and are therefore better equipped to help you than a stranger on the internet.

Sugarpastels is so full of empathy that it’s hard to not feel for you when you send things like this. But it just isn’t fair to put that kind of unnecessary pressure on someone who is, at the end of the day, just trying to have some fun writing about ninja turtles bein’ sad.

(That being said, PLEASE DON’T BE SCARED TO SEND HER ASKS AND FAN ART!!! They make her day every single time and are seriously so, so appreciated. She’s texting me about it constantly how much she loves all of TNV’s readers. This whole post is really directed at an extremely small percentage of her readers, but there have been enough I felt something needed to be said.)

#ok back to writing about sad turtles!#tmnt #the neon void #the neon void fic #the neon void tmnt #tmnt fanfiction #tmnt fanfic #tmnt fic

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rewritingcanon · 7 months

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i’ve seen relationship therapists and psychologists analyse hermione and ron’s relationship and conclude that they wouldn’t work out in the long run. they’ve argued for hermione to be with harry, krum, even DRACO (don’t understand how a counsellor can vow for canon dramione but alright) as an alternative partner for hermione since ron is “too insecure” to be with her and match her intelligent prowess or what have you.

i seriously don’t understand this sentiment. ron and hermione genuinely seem (almost) perfect to me, maybe not in the movies (a common denominator of people who don’t like romione is that they always cite evidence from the movies, since the films took a lot away from ron’s character and his growth), but definitely in the books.

looking at ron’s insecurities, a lot of people dredge his inferiority complex up to toxic masculinity primarily, when it was more explored how it was an effect of his home life (not gonna argue toxic masculinity wasn’t a factor, they’re teenagers in the 90s written by a pretty misogynistic woman so…). he was the youngest son out of how many children? all of his older brothers were brilliant in some way. bill was an extremely gifted spellcaster, charlie was gifted with magical beasts, percy’s academic score was unmatched, and fred and george (despite their trouble) were entrepreneurial inventor-geniuses. ron, on the other hand, was quite literally born a disappointment to his mother, who conceived him specifically because she wanted a daughter, whilst ginny was born her favourite (though, even then, ginny was gifted at quidditch). ron was mediocre in every sense of the word, and his two best friends were harry (one of the most famous wizards) and hermione (the smartest witch of her age yada yada). and i’ve seen people argue that harry was more welcomed by molly into the weasley household than ron ever was. this isn’t even mentioning the amount of bullshit he copped for being poor (people always downplay the blow to confidence being in poverty can have on a person who is constantly surrounded by people who not only have more, but look down on him for simply being unlucky as to not have what they do).

so yeah, ron was an envious kid, but he was that way not because he was an evil patriarchal conception but because he was lowkey neglected. and even then he was overall an extremely devoted and loyal friend to both harry and hermione, because he did genuinely love them.

there were many moments of ron standing up for hermione that was cut from the films, not as a guy who was romantically interested in her, but as a friend. ron arguing with snape for making hermione cry is one of my fav scenes in the books ru kidding me, and in the movies he AGREED with snape RU KIDDING ME. not to mention how ron was a sobbing violent mess when hermione was getting tortured in the last book, whereas he wasn’t nearly as bothered in the films. and the films cut out harry being a dick to ron about his familial concerns (in dh), so when ron left it seemed like a random dickish move over his jealousy towards harry and hermione’s relationship.

there’s also a million moments where they minimised ron’s usefulness in the books for comedic purposes (forbidden forest with aragog, troll scene, devils snare scene) so ron seems dumber than he is. like, he’s actually smart and a really good spellcaster…. in the books.

so simply by stating this most of the arguments against romione become void. “he’s too stupid/weak for her” simply not true. “he’s a terrible friend who doesn’t stand up for her” also not true. “he’s too insecure to have made a move on her,” yes, but given the context i don’t think people would freak on about ron’s upbringing, i think many would be more understanding, especially considering his growth. even if he wasn’t insecure, hermione is beyond incredible and is bound to make anyone nervous when pursuing her (not an excuse for ron to act like a dick, but it does explain a lot where the movies don’t). “they argue too much” they bump heads, none of the arguments they have are actually super damning, with the exception of ron leaving in deathly hallows.

maybe i’ve covered everything (excluding the abhorrent amount of classism that clouds people’s judgments around how they view ron when harping about how hermione deserves better? hopefully).

now, i know people won’t like me mentioning the cursed child, but i’m going to considering we actually get an insight of their life as a longterm married couple there. a lot of ron stans hated how ron was the only character that wasn’t doing something incredible. harry was head of the aurors, ginny was a famous quidditch player retired to a famous journalist, neville was a hogwarts professor, hermione was quite literally minister on magic. and ron…. ran the joke shop with george.

and i think this was almost the perfect route to go down for ron. because he was average, and was perfectly fine with just being average. hello?? that speaks leagues of growth for his character. he’s supportive of hermione’s work, he grounds her when she gets too caught up in being the literal president of wizarding society, and he still viciously defends her, minister or not. in fact, he’s proud to simply be known as hermione’s husband because he doesn’t feel the need to prove to anyone else his worth. the people he loves most know his worth, hermione never downplays or underestimates him, they are complete equals in the relationship in every single way that matters. they kept ron’s best qualities whilst making him seem more of a healed person. they work so well as a married couple without it seeming like mischaracterisation (not to mention the cursed child literally shows how those two are in love in every reality, so there quite literally can’t be a better partner for hermione or ron according to canon).

so i really don’t understand how professional relationship counsellors can go online and denounce it. probs because they only watched the movies, but it’s 2023 and ron stans should not STILL be fighting for their lives trying to defend him from people who simply don’t consume media with as much depth (which is fine, but one should clarify if they’re talking about the movies because i’ve seen people state they’re talking about the hp BOOKS when it’s simply just…. the films). anyways. romione on top, thanks to coming to my ted talk.

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atopvisenyashill · 14 days

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listening to an analysis of sansa - by a CHILD THERAPIST i think this is a great angle, recced by @transdimensional-void - and he said something about Sansa seeming a bit lonely, which made me think about how like, for both Theon and Sansa, there’s an enddate to what they feel is a sort of misery (tho wildly different sorts of miseries) - one day she’ll be married and a proper lady surrounded by other proper ladies and not in the drab, dull north, and one day Balon will die and Theon will be Lord of Pyke and not under constant threat of death meant to be loyal to a family who cannot conceive of the stress he’s under. Contrast to Arya & Jon, who don’t have that “end date” to look forward to - Arya will never be free to live the way she wants, at some point her tomboyishness will stop being cute to the men around her and start being a sign that she’s too wild, and Jon will never be free from the taint of bastardry so long as he lives, this confusing underclass of man where he is noble by birth and yet also lowborn and unworthy is a fate he can never truly escape.

I think it explains both why Theon & Sansa romanticize the terrible things around them, with the repeated focus on beauty, on songs and stories, because they want to live up to the expectations by being the Perfect Lady and Perfect Wife, by being the Perfect Hostage and Perfect Lord, because this freedom they’ve built up in their minds has to be worth it. Theon was taken away from home for this, Lady died for this, it HAS to be worth the cost. BUT ALSO, whereas, because Jon and Arya feel there’s no reprieve coming, there’s nothing good in their future, there’s an emphasis for them on the idea that who they are now isn’t wrong, or dirty but instead a strength. They don’t deserve the bad that happens to them, but their identity as outsiders makes them suited to survive it, and their suffering has ~meaning.

But for all four of them, what ultimately matters is identity - whether they are hoping for the day when they’ll stop being who they are or dreading it, or outrunning it, all four have to grapple with a changing identity and come to terms with the idea that there is nothing wrong with who they are, but there IS something wrong in how they were all raised to believe they must change to accepted.

#me: i don’t have a favorite storyline #me earlier that day: theon and the starklings are my favorite.#ajsjdjd #getting on my soap box #jon snow #sansa stark #arya stark #theon greyjoy #when i say change to be accepted re: sansa i mean the entire way marriage works. ‘they will make a lannister of me’ but that was something #she wanted once upon a time! and now she realizes it’s awful it’s unfair why must her identity be subsumed by her husband?#but this is something arya has always known and understood bc of her gnc-ness.#like jon much more clear eyed. with eyes that see all.

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grounded-parasocial · 2 months

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I am still having so many feelings about the final season of YR and I have been feeling like I don’t have anywhere to put them. It’s like the warm smolder of my obsession has sparked into a wild fire and now it’s too hot to stand near, but I cannot get it under control. I feel so much love, appreciation and pride for this queer love story and the truly magical way it has been told. However, I also feel so much heartbreak and loss both for the suffering in this season and that the show has come to a close. I feel consumed and a little bit embarrassed, but when it really comes down to it, the thing I am struggling with the most is the loneliness/isolation in my real life. It hasn’t really bothered me before that nobody in my life is obsessed with this show (which is still odd to me considering I live in a very queer community, so you would think I could find at lease one person irl) and I just want to be IN IT with someone who gets it. I feel like I have a pinball mess of feelings inside of me and everyone is just walking around living life like nothing has happened, but something DID happen!

These thoughts have me thinking about grief- grief is not always associated with death or separation- grief is associated with loss. And if I keep going with these thoughts on grief/loss- everyone’s loss experience is different and personal, but one thing that is a common thread when going through loss, is we need people to see it, “witness it” and be able to hold it. This is why we (therapists) so often suggest support groups for people experiencing grief (different than therapy/treatment groups). In support groups there is space for healing because there is witnessing and story telling and shared experience with people who understand. There is also safety and trust when you are with others who will not diminish your experience and who will not try to fix it. One of the other things that is helpful in support groups is all the different perspectives and being able to see people at different points along their journey. You can also see and share in all the different ways people cope and move through- some write, some lean into music, some exercise, some talk, some listen, some take drives, some use humor, some give hugs and some people take a lot of hot showers- but overall it’s community and human connection and those things give us sense of belonging.

This long ramble leads me to here, on tumblr, this fandom feels like my support group. I’m grateful. It’s the place I dont feel embarrassed, my experience doesn’t feel diminished and it makes me feel like other people “get it”. It’s kinda feels like the Young Royals office is holding support groups in conference room #2.. And have you seen the coping skills (TALENT) in here!

This may be only going out into the void, but if it lands for just one other person, then my point has been made.

Sending y’all a gentle hug 💜

#on a personal note #rambles #young royals #young royals s3

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tatisources · 1 year

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- 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐄𝐑

❝ Being your friend should come with a warning label. ❞

❝ It’s amateurs like you who give kidnapping a bad game. ❞

❝ Are you mansplaining my power? ❞

❝ Emotion isn’t exactly your strong suit. ❞

❝ I don’t believe in heaven or hell, but I do believe in revenge. ❞

❝ Those who forget history are doomed to repeat it. ❞

❝ There’s nothing quite like the feeling of being proven right. ❞

❝ Because trust and cooperation have always been the hallmarks of our relationship. ❞

❝ Anytime I grow nauseous at the sight of a rainbow or hear a pop song that makes my ears bleed, I’ll think of you. ❞

❝ I’ve learned so much from you. Part of it is admittedly criminal behavior. ❞

❝ Not hugging is kind of our thing. ❞

❝ When the dance floor calls, you gotta answer. ❞

❝ Typically I have great admiration for well-executed revenge plots, but yours was a bit extreme, even for my high standards. ❞

❝ Except I won’t cry and whine like a child. ❞

❝ I can’t believe you were in a secret society and didn’t tell me. ❞

❝ You brought a gun to a sword fight. Probably the first smart decision you’ve made today. ❞

❝ Emotion equals weakness. ❞

❝ I find social media to be a soul sucking void of meaningless affirmation. ❞

❝ These are all traits of great writers. And serial killers. ❞

❝ Sometimes I act like I don’t care if people like me. Deep down, I secretly enjoy it. ❞

❝ I like to win. Is that so wrong? ❞

❝ For the record, I don't believe that I'm better than everyone else, just that I'm better than you. ❞

❝ Use the words 'little' and 'girl' to address me again and I can't guarantee your safety. ❞

❝ If he breaks your heart, I'll nail gun his. ❞

❝ You guys are making me nauseous. Not in a good way. ❞

❝ When I look at you, the following emojis come to mind: rope, shovel, hole. ❞

❝ You know the old saying, never bring a knife to a sword fight. Unless it’s concealed. ❞

❝ Secrets are like zombies, they never truly die. ❞

❝ Tears don’t fix anything. So I vowed to never do it again. ❞

❝ Please, flattery will get you nowhere. ❞

❝ I’m not friend material, let alone more-than-friend material. I will ignore you, stomp on your heart, and always put my needs and interests first. ❞

❝ Every day is all about me. This one just comes with cake and a bad song. ❞

❝ Emotions are a gateway trait. They lead to feelings, which trigger tears. I don’t do tears.❞

❝ It’s either they write our story or we do. You can’t have it both ways. ❞

❝ I don’t need your help or your pity. I already have a mother and a therapist. That’s enough torture, even for me. ❞

❝ I don’t bury hatchets. I sharpen them. ❞

❝ Friends are a liability and can be exploited. That makes them weaknesses. ❞

#rp meme #rp memes #sentence starters #rph #indie help #indie rph #rp prompts #roleplay meme #*rp meme

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andivmg · 2 months

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Hello o/

I’ve been offline since I’m in school and I have a job but because there are so many new people here I just wanted to hit a quick introduction for those who don’t really know me too well and to also say thank you all so so so much for all your support the past couple of days. I have read so many lovely messages from you guys and it truly means the world to me to feel seen, heard, understood and supported.

So I want to start off by saying hi! My name is Andrea, but online I go by Andi. I used to be a content creator on tiktok and twitch from 2020-2022. At the end of 2022 I decided to remove myself from the content scene for personal reasons. And now I’m pursuing a career in esthetics, which is something I am extremely passionate about!

I originally created this blog as a sort of safe space for myself outside of twitter and now I just kind of use it to post life updates and stuff. But, I still want this to be a safe space for me to just kind of yap about my life into the void sometimes. I wanna make it very clear that I am not interested in creating content or promoting anything so if you’re here for someone to stan, I am sorry to disappoint. Sometimes I disappear for weeks at a time and sometimes I’m super active. Most of the time people come here looking for advice, which is really nice, because I love helping other people navigate through their experiences and emotions. But, I don’t have the strength it takes to be a therapist or psychologist so I just post here!

I will note that my boyfriend, Danny, is a youtuber. He is incredibly talented and I am so so so proud of him! Because I want to support him in his career, I will appear in his videos occasionally. But, again, that is his career and his thing, not mine. I want to give him a quick shoutout for being my rock throughout the last few weeks. It has been incredibly tough to navigate and he has handled the situation and me with such grace, patience, and respect. So yeah I love my bf and I wanted an excuse to gush about him for a sec while clarifying that just because I am in his content, doesn’t mean I want to create content myself.

I also really don’t want my experiences and my relationship to that community to define who I am now. Again, I have almost entirely removed myself from that space. And I am very happy I did. I think the environment as a whole was not conducive to the happiness and mental stability of most creators. I truly, genuinely hope that everyone gets the help they need to lead genuine, productive, and fulfilling lives. I have said before that I am in a much better and happier place now. I’ve been in therapy for a little over two years, and I’m very proud of myself for how far I’ve come in my healing process in this time. I also am incredibly lucky to be surrounded by amazing people who love and care about me. In the future I’ll probably talk about my mental health more openly, but I don’t feel that now is that time.

To anyone who needs to hear it: It gets better, I promise. Shit happens, and even when it feels like you have nothing ahead of you, the universe proves you wrong.

Thank you for reading.

Much Love, Andi

#andi yaps #i’ll probably go back offline for a bit #i’m going on spring break next week so i might post about that idk

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toomanybrainrots · 2 months

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Hello! If it's okay to request Transformers Prime (& Animated) ?

Autobots and kids with Bot Reader who's like Disney Baymax.

I may or may have took a tad bit of creative liberty here, but I did try to stay true to the request

TFP Autobots + kids with a Bot Reader who’s like Disney Baymax

I couldn’t find a gif for this so you simply get a void

You’re the second medic on the team and Ratchet’s assistant. You’re more of an on field medic and are usually on the field more than you are off field since you’re still a pretty skilled fighter

You’re friendly, though your monotone and robotic voice says otherwise, and have the ability to scan your patients and immediately know any injury they have on their frame

You’re also the team therapist occassionally

More than twice have you listened to Ratchet’s and the others worries and comforted them

And more than twice have you had to drag one of the others away before they got harmed and straight up passed out from work

You’ve also had to remind the kids(+ June and Agent Fowler) to fulfill their basic body necessities such as eating and sleeping

You’ve had to do it most with Raf

You’re the only one who has the common sense to actually fulfill your needs, like filling up your energon level, getting the proper amount of recharge

Unlike some others

[Error: not available](I couldn’t think of anything)

Fun fact: you act very light headed when you’re low on recharge or energon

It’s happened once or twice, but it never failed to catch the team off guard when you act like that

Don’t worry, Bulkhead usually carries you back

#transformers #maccadam #maccadams #transformers prime #transformers x reader #tfp #tfp x reader #x reader #x gender neutral reader #x cybertronian reader

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notiddygxthgf · 7 months

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𝟎

★ pairings: suguru geto x satoru gojo, satosugu

★ synopsis: Suguru Geto struggles with letting people in after leaving a three-year-long abusive relationship. Enter Satoru Gojo, the boy who doesn't seem to take no for an answer.

★ c.w.: slow burn, mutual pining, explicit sexual content, dub con elements, implied/referenced rape/non-con, mahito is a real abusive asshole, past relationship(s), past abuse, recovery, hurt, comfort, vent fic, based on my shitty ex, my therapist told me it'd be a good idea idk, im a good writer I swear, brought to u by the bch who wrote best friend's brother!choso, sexual tension, new love, fluff, angst, smutt, graphic, psychological trauma, theres a happy ending in here I swear, angst with a happy ending, psychological trauma, PTSD, idiots in love, sexy smut I swear.

★ a/n: NGL I kinda hate how this turned out. but! it had to be done! I had to get it out of the way. the way I think this is gonna work is past flashbacks first, present time next. it's gonna prob alternative between the two for a while. comment your thoughts! let me hear u! feel free to slander mahito... he plays the shitty ex.

★ w.c.; 3.4k

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𝐔 𝐍 𝐅 𝐎 𝐑 𝐓 𝐔 𝐍 𝐀 𝐓 𝐄 𝐀 𝐈 𝐋 𝐌 𝐄 𝐍 𝐓

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PROLOGUE

2019. MONTH UNKNOWN.

I WAS ONLY 12 YEARS OLD the first time I tried to kill myself. In retrospect, I can’t possibly imagine what could have been so important to little me that he firmly believed he would rather die than live without it. I wish I could say that I had a difficult life. That simply was not the case. I grew up with two loving parents and a kind brother, in a small town where every friend I’d ever had was within a mile of me at any given point in time. We weren’t rich, but we most certainly weren’t poor. I had everything a child could ask for and so much more.

Again, I wish that I could say I had a difficult life, but that simply was not the case.

It’s just that I’ve had these… thoughts for as long as I can remember. An unfortunate ailment, if you will. No matter what I did, there always seemed to be something missing. Something I felt I would spend my whole life searching for – or at least trying to supplement.

At 12 years old, I planned my first attempt.

It didn’t work.

So, now, faced with the unbearable burden of deciding what I was going to do for the rest of my life, I chose to pursue a childhood dream of mine. I wanted to go to school to become a doctor. I didn’t know what kind, per se, but I knew that I wanted to heal.

Maybe I thought, I don’t know… that if I healed enough people, I may have been rid of the ailment – healed, myself.

So I left my small town, enrolling in an academy 30 minutes away from the house. I got into their Healthcare program. Again, what more could a kid want?

Yet the void inside of me only grew larger, more ravenous. I lost touch with all of my small town friends – one by one. I had no one.

But I was pursuing my passion, right? Why wasn’t it enough?

It was in that godforsaken academy that I met him.

“Pick a card,” he asked me. His grey eyes were so sharp, even then. “Any card.”

I glanced down at the fanned-out deck in his pale hand, eyes crawling over the many different suits and shapes before eventually settling on an ace. I pulled the card out.

Ace of spades. I tried to memorize it. I also, coincidentally, tried my best to ignore the incessant thrum of my racing heartbeat against my veins, my arteries, my chest. He was sitting so close to me.

It was just the two of us in the hallway. Just me and him and the infinite space between us, the small gap between my right shoulder and his left.

I handed it back to him. “What are you doing?” I asked.

He slipped the card back into the deck without looking. He shuffled it once, twice, three times. Made a bridge with his hands and let the cards fall back into place. I watched with a remarkable sense of interest.

“Is this your card?” He tucked a stray blue hair behind his ear, producing a card.

I furrowed my brows, about to say something, when I noticed something off about the card. It was different. Where there once was a large blue spade, there now was a small, torn piece of lined paper taped to the surface. The gray lettering on the handwritten note read,

WILL U GO OUT W/ ME?

My eyes went as wide as saucers. My mouth lolled open, lips shaped around his cursed name, “Mahito, I…”

I thought of my parents. I thought of my religious father. What would he say? What would he say if he found out his 14-year-old son was a homosexual?

I thought of my parents, and I bit my lip, “I don’t know if I can… I don’t know. What if my dad finds out?”

Mahito tucked the deck of cards neatly into the pocket of his black cargo pants. His hoodie was rolled up to his elbows, revealing intricate stick-and-poke linework over his forearms. He shrugged, humming, “Who says he has to?”

The tardy bell rang. We were late for first period.

My mouth opened by itself again. At fourteen, I wasn’t so sure I was ready to lie to my father about something so serious. Not yet.

Seemingly sensing my hesitance, Mahito laid a hand on my stiff shoulder. “Hey,” he muttered softly. “Think about it. Give me your answer after school, yeah? We’ll meet here at 3:30.”

And then he slipped away with a quiet, ‘See ya’.

Without confirmation.

In his absence, I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat.

2019 February.

Mahito ran away from home two weeks into our relationship. Ran away without so much as a notice or a warning. Ran away and left me there to assume the worst. He didn’t live in the best area. Perhaps he was staying with a friend? If not, was he dead in a ditch somewhere?

There was no way to tell.

He could have at least told me, I had thought. Then again, would I have tried to stop him? Undoubtedly.

They issued a missing persons alert the day after he didn’t show up. I remember seeing the poster all over my social media, all over the streetlights and posts.

It didn’t seem real. Even as I held the missing poster in my trembling hand, I remember feeling numb. I remember feeling as if this were all some sort of cruel prank, that he would be back just in time for our after-school walk with a smile on his face.

But there he was, smiling up at me from the page in my hand.

MISSING PERSON: MAHITO

Height: 5’8

Weight: 150

Eye color: gray

Hair color: blue

Remarkable features: tattoos on arms

Last seen: February 14th.

I crumpled the piece of paper up, tossing it across my messy bedroom with a sigh. I hadn’t slept last night, and I wouldn’t have slept tonight either.

I sunk into myself, curled into a ball on my twin-sized mattress – the same one I’d had for as long as I could remember – and cried. I was utterly inconsolable. I cried until my voice was hoarse, until there were no more tears left to cry.

Until my phone buzzed.

I assumed it was another homework notification. I didn’t check. What did it matter? In my eyes, my world had stopped spinning. It had stopped the moment he ran away.

But it buzzed again, and again.

It was then that I realized I was getting a call. Begrudgingly, I picked my phone up off of the bed. I turned it over. The screen was lit up with the words ‘NO CALLER ID’.

I wanted to hang up. Desperately. Wanted to save myself a shred of peace and dignity and move on with my night – in hindsight, I probably should have just hung up when I had the chance. But, no, I felt something in my gut call out to me.

Against my better judgment, I answered, “Hello?”

The line crackled. “Suguru?”

Suguru.

My heart leapt up into my throat. With wide eyes, I answered again, “Who’s this?”

“Suguru, it’s me, Mahito,” He sighed with relief, like he hadn’t expected me to pick up. Truth be told, I hadn’t expected it either. “I’m sorry I couldn’t call you sooner, my love. I’m calling you from a phone booth right now.”

My love. The nickname sounded like honey coming from his lips, but I knew it was laced with venom. Still, as would seem to be the trend, I was weak for it.

My eyes began to water again, somehow. “Where are you?”

I knew better than to call him ‘baby’. Not when my father was sleeping in the room next to mine.

“I can’t tell you that right now,” He answered. Of course, he couldn’t. There always seemed to be something he was hiding from me. I didn’t see it that way back then. “Look, I don’t have much time to talk, I–”

“I’ve been worried sick about you, Mahi,” I spoke again. I felt numb. So numb. “Please, just–”

“I stole ten grand from my mom,” He cut me off. “I’m running away from home. The abuse, it’s just– I can’t. I can’t, anymore.”

His mother was a real piece of shit. I knew that. She never wanted Mahito, not as a single mother. So she tried multiple times to be rid of him – beating him senseless with hangers and wires and even going so far as to attempt to poison him on his birthday.

Still, ten grand was a lot of money.

Stolen.

“I’m on the run from the cops, I– I think they’re trying to find me,” He panted into the microphone. “You can’t tell anyone, okay? You gotta lie for me.”

I felt sick. Sick to my fucking stomach.

“I’m sorry, I…” I trailed off, holding back vomit. “Hold on.”

I ran to the bathroom and promptly emptied the contents of my stomach into the sink. I had just eaten mac and cheese an hour or so ago, and the vomit was tinted yellow. I could still see a few noodles here and there, only partially digested.

It made me want to hurl again.

“You okay?” he asked me.

“Am I– No, I’m not fucking okay, Mahito! First, you run away without–” I had to swallow bile a second time. I felt it burn as it slid back down my throat. “You could have fucking warned me , or something, and now you’re calling me at eleven at night to tell me you’re fleeing the fucking cops?”

He paused. “I know,” he said. “I know, I’m sorry. You know I love you.”

And immediately, like some sort of magic trick, I felt my exterior soften. I didn’t even care that we were only a few weeks into our relationship. He was my first. It was like he knew the effect he had on me.

“Suguru,” he said again. “I love you.”

His words were like honey. I took a spoonful.

“I love you, too,” I sighed into the receiver.

“You’ll keep quiet about this for me, right?”

I was weak for him, as always.

“Okay,” I said.

I found myself sitting at my desk in the middle of the day, struggling to concentrate on the lesson. The classmates at my table – more like a group of desks placed together – were talking about the missing boy.

My missing boy.

They were talking to me, actually, but I had long since tuned them out. It was all a blur for me – a blur of faces and voices and words I didn’t want to hear.

“He’s a freak,” The boy across from me, Choso Kamo, remarked. “If I were you, I’d break things off before it’s too late.”

Choso’s critical words sent a sharp pang right through my rotten heart.

“Exactly,” My friend, Shoko, chimed in. She was a pretty thing, about a few inches shorter than me with brown hair up to her chin. She always looked so tired . I wonder if she recognized that I felt the same. “He’s got some serious issues. Guys like that rarely make for healthy relationships.”

Choso leaned in, leaned over the desk to offer more of his thoughts, “You can’t just ignore the fact that more people are catchin’ on, either. What if your dad finds out? You know he thinks that… kind of stuff is wrong.”

Choso was Shoko’s friend. He wasn’t homophobic. A little misguided, but he had the spirit. Hell if he weren’t a raging heterosexual, I might have even gone for him instead. He had that look I liked – sleepy, downturned, dark eyes framed by messy bangs. He never wore colors. He was content to make a statement in black. Black eyeliner, black shirt, black doc martens, black hair done up into two messy pigtails.

It was his signature look.

Our classmates didn’t take too kindly to ‘emos’ like him, though. He was an outcast. Hell, we all were. That’s why we sat together, after all.

The harsh opinions of my classmates threatened to erode my self assurance. I knew people were talking – people always talked. I knew the hushed whispers of my name as I walked past people and cliques in the mornings on my way to class weren’t a hallucination.

I knew I had to stand by my boyfriend. I knew I had to stand by Mahito, but the weight of their disapproval put a strain on my shoulders. Does anyone want to hear that their friends don’t approve of their partner?

Admittedly, he wasn’t a very good partner. He had demonstrated that much in the first few weeks of our relationship. I knew he wasn’t good for me, but, fuck, I wanted to try. I wanted to make things work so badly that I ached for it. Everyone else knew he wasn’t good for me, too.

But, fuck, was I naive to wish I could prove them all wrong?

In my eyes, he was only misunderstood. The ghosting, the red flags, the alarming behavior… I could see past it all because I loved him. My first love. No one understood him the way I did. How could I blame them for their concerns?

It didn’t matter how many voices I had in my ear telling me it was wrong. Soon, he would come home to me, and I would feel his skin against my cheek as I hugged him hello. That’s all that mattered.

How could that be wrong?

“It’s not wrong. How could it be?” I kept my gaze trained on my desk. My vision was blurry, unfocused. My mind felt numb and detached. I muttered. “I love him. He loves me, too. He told me he did.”

He did.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Choso and Shoko exchange a dubious look.

They didn’t understand him the way I did.

“He told me he loved me,” I repeated the words like a mantra, like a reminder to myself that I was fighting for something.

That as long as I was loved by him, I would be okay.

He called again that night. Earlier, this time, at nine o’clock.

I was in the shower at that time, curled up on the floor, sobbing into my arms. The water streamed past my shoulders, my arms, my nose. I glanced over at the screen through blurry eyes.

NO CALLER ID.

I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath.

Then, I let the call ring.

Current Day.

[12:13 PM]

[Automated]: you have 3 new messages. Play back?

[USER] Selected:

[NO] ...

... [View Inbox]

...

[ Last 6 Years ].

[REPLAY>>] Message from 'Blocked Number'.

Transcription:

" Suguru, this is me, Mahito. I don’t know if you can hear me or not– I don’t know if anyone can hear you or not, so please use headphones, or something, I don’t know. I just wanted to call and make sure you’re okay. I’m gonna try and call you later. Right now you seem to not be answering your phone for some reason. Doesn’t matter, though. I’m not in a really good place, right now, I’m… surrounded by a lot of people. So, um.. I just wanted to say that I love you, and I’ll call you a little bit later, okay? Bye– kisses…….”

[End of Transcription]

[Automated]: Would you like to play the next message?

[ Yes. ]

“ Suguru, is this– this is me, Mahito. Um.. I just wanted to say that I’m okay. Nothing has happened to me yet. I’m perfectly safe. I’m in a laundromat somewhere. And, uh, I said I love you… I don’t know why you’re not answering my calls… You know that I always try to text you whenever I can– and try to… call you, but… I don’t know, maybe you’re too depressed, or some shit. Maybe you’re mad at me. I understand. I– what I did was wrong, I… What I did was idiotic, and what I did was stupid, and shitty… And I understand if you’re mad at me and you don’t wanna answer my calls. So, yeah, I gues… I’ll try to call you again tomorrow.

If you’re hearing this voicemail, but you probably won’t, um… I just want you to know that I love you. And I’m trying to do my best just… to see you again. You like pizza, don’t you? How about we do a pizza date sometime, yeah? Somewhere around next week, maybe. Huh? How about that? Sounds cool, right? Yeah, yeah it does. Um, anyway, I… gotta… I gotta go. I have to… do some things. Uh… uh… at least I love you.

And, I– I might not have brought much with me, but I have the little stuffie that you gave me. It’s in my book bag. Not gonna take it out because people are gonna know what my things look like. I’m always gonna keep these memories close to my heart. I don’t care what anybody says. Even if I go to prison, I’m taking this shit with me. Alright? Um, I guess that’s it. And… last thing? I love you.

Please, answer me. If you’re calling, that means you actually care, but if you don’t, then… it’s fine. Don’t recall this number. I’m not gonna respond. This is just some random guy’s phone. Okay? Um… I love you, and please stay safe. Please don’t worry, I’m still alive. I miss you. Okay, bye, I love you.”

[End of Voicemails Received on February 18th, 2019].

[Automated]: Would you like to replay the messages?

[ No. ]

[ Delete ] > [ All messages from {Blocked Number}]

[Automated]: Are you sure?

[Yes]

[Automated]: Deleting all messages from {Blocked Number}.

THE WIND BLEW IN HEAVY from below, sending a plethora of leaves flying out in all directions. As I knelt down to test the current with my fingers, my boots sank deeper into the muddy riverside.

I sat on the bench in front of the riverbed. Wiping my fingers dry on the fabric of my denim jeans, I took a moment to take in my surroundings. The park was mostly empty, save for a few teenagers

The water always looked pretty this time of year. For a few moments, you stood there drinking in the sight of it.

In the present, I sat alone in front of the serene lake, surrounded by the picturesque beauty of nature. Lush green trees lined the shore, their leaves rustling in the gentle breeze. The scent of damp earth and the distant call of birds created a peaceful atmosphere, contrasting with the turmoil in my mind.

I watched as groups of carefree teenagers ran around, their laughter and joy a stark contrast to the heavy weight I carried in my heart. A deep sigh escaped my lips as I averted my gaze towards the shimmering water.

I wished for the water to possess the power to cleanse me, to wash away the burdens that weighed on my soul.

The sound of the water rushing past was almost deafening, drowning out the laughter of the teenagers. It consumed my thoughts, leaving me with an overwhelming feeling of dread and isolation. I yearned for the water to offer solace, as if it held the key to absolution and a fresh start, but it remained an unsettling reminder of my own inner turmoil.

I had a vision every time I came here for some peace of mind. It was the same vision every single time. It plagued me every time I found myself in front of the water. It was an image of me, standing at the water's edge, and then, with a deep sense of despair, throwing myself into it, sinking into the abyss and drowning.

As I sat there, the scenery around me seemed to blur, and the vision of my drowning self played on a loop in my mind, a relentless nightmare that I couldn't escape. The lake, which should have been a source of tranquility, had become a symbol of my pain and a relentless reminder of my inner struggles.

It seemed to call to me. I could almost hear the wind carry my name.

Suguru.

The water always looked pretty this time of year. I sat there watching it for a moment too long, wondering what it would feel like to be enveloped by the cold current, to feel it wash me away.

And, again, the sound of the current grew louder. Deafening. Consuming me.

a/n: l comment and lmk what u think pookiesss

comments + reblogs are greatly appreciated!!

I obviously do not own jjk or anything related to it. please do not reproduce, copy, or translate my works anywhere. dont fk w me im a bruja.

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yourlocaldisneyvillain · 1 year

Text

violet soul

a smutty lucifer x reader fic for your enjoyment have fun <3 i feel embarrassed i was able to produce such filth :))))))

triggers warnings: dubious consent (the reader is not sober while giving consent! while they do believe they have given consent, they are not realising they're being manipulated into it!) and just like rough sex i guess haha but nothing requiring a specific trigger warning

hope you enjoy!!!

*slithers back into the void*

______________________________________________________________

You started having… dreams, recently. Very odd dreams. They feel real, way too real, and you wake covered in sweat, and the only thing you are able to think about is the dream, as if you’re still there. When you manage to fall asleep again, you simply continue where you left off.

The dreams consume your waking life. You think about them constantly. Images, smells and sounds remind you of them.

After a few weeks, you visit a therapist and complain about nightmares. She listens and nods sympathetically, and then she asks what the dreams are about. You open your mouth to tell her and find that you can’t.

“They aren’t about anything, really. They are just… vivid,” you say, feeling embarrassed because of course you know what they’re about. If only you could remember right now.

She looks at you with confusion in her eyes. “It’s okay, you can tell me,” she says gently.

You wish you could, but you don’t know. You spend the rest of the session talking about things that don’t matter.

Later, you leave her office with a feeling of dread in the pit of your stomach. You feel like a woman possessed.

The second you leave her office you remember the dreams again.

In your dreams, you wonder aimlessly through a very dark place. Nothing happens, really, but it’s scary. Everything is so vivid, so lifelike. You feel the cold stone underneath your feet, the unbearable heat in the air that makes it hard to breathe, the smell of something rotten, something burning. You can never find your way out. Sometimes, you catch glimpses of… creatures. You always make it a point to avoid them. They pay no attention to you anyhow, but they are disturbing to look at, their faces contorted, deformed, burned, melted. Some have teeth like wild animals, some have no faces at all. You couldn't describe them in detail, really, you never stare. You always feel like there is someone watching you, but when you turn, there is no one around.

The therapy session feels like a defeat and you call a friend to complain. They are sympathetic. You talk for a while, and you feel better — finally, someone understands you. Maybe you aren’t crazy after all.

Then she asks you what the dreams are about. You open your mouth and nothing comes out. Your voice is gone.

“Hello? Do you hear me?” your friend asks. You stare at your phone.

“I’m here,” you say, your voice miraculously returning. “My mom is calling me. I’ll call you later, okay?”

You hang up. You call your mom and another friend. You cannot tell any of them about the nightmares. Either your voice disappears, or you can’t remember a single thing about the dreams. The concern and disbelief in their voices make your stomach churn. You know they don’t believe you. You feel crazy.

It’s evening already and you are so tired. You have run out of people to call and you’re not sure you’d even want to call anyone anymore. You feel on edge, weeks of poor sleep making you paranoid. You start wondering whether all of this is another nightmare. You try pinching yourself to wake up. It doesn’t work. You curl up on the sofa and turn on the TV, turning the channel to something mindless.

You don’t notice when you fall asleep.

You are in that place again. A sickly sweet smell of something rotten is filling the air. The dark corridor you find yourself in is long and narrow, lit by torches that cast an orange glow onto the dark stone around you. There are doors all throughout it. You turn around. The corridor seems to be never-ending on both sides. You suppose there is no difference which direction you take, then. As soon as you start walking you see the door in front of you open and a black demon with no face steps onto the corridor. You scream and run in the opposite direction. You hear no footsteps behind you and you know it isn’t following you — they never do — but you can’t make yourself stop running. You run and you run and you run through the never-ending corridor. It’s hard to breathe, the air is so hot and it’s stuffy and you’re feeling dizzy and you hear your heartbeat in your ears, but you never stop.

You don’t know how long you’ve been running when you find yourself at the end of the corridor. There is a grand door in front of you. Without thinking you try to open it, and it’s so heavy you have to use your entire body weight to push it.

As you open the door, you find that the air is suddenly lighter. The rotten smell is no longer there, and instead it smells faintly of violets. Violets are your favourite flowers. You inhale deeply, relieved you can finally breathe.

The place you find yourself in is enormous, lit by torches. The ceiling is so high you aren’t sure you can see all the way up to it. You could look around for hours and still not be able to take it all in. As you observe the enormous hall, your eyes catch a glimpse a tall, dark figure standing a few feet away from you. It has huge, black wings. You wonder how you didn’t notice it immediately upon entering. The figure is looking at you.

You know that’s the Devil. For some reason, you aren’t surprised.

Somehow, you are now standing next to each other.

The Devil is beautiful, you think, with their cherubic face and bouncy white curls that seem so soft, almost angelic, and you have to fight the urge run your fingers through them.

The Devil is tall, so tall. Their stature is elegant, feminine. You admire their broad shoulders, the gentle curve of their breasts underneath their silken red robe, their imposing, black wings.

What really pulls you in are the eyes. It’s not that they’re a lovely cerulean blue, so deep you might get lost in them, it’s that they are looking at your very soul.

They are the first to speak.

“Finally, we meet officially, little lamb.”

Their voice sounds like the sweetest sin, silky and smooth and melodious. You find yourself enamoured with it.

“Are you behind my nightmares?” you ask.

“How pleasant your stay here is is entirely up to you,” they say and cock their head.

“What do you mean, my stay here? This is a dream. I am still at home, in my bed,” you say, confused.

“Not quite. You could be, if you so wished. But you wished to be here, didn’t you?” The corner of their lip curls slightly, as if they find all of this amusing.

“I haven’t slept in weeks, and you tell me that’s by my own volition? That I wished to be here?”

You can’t believe your ears.

“Think, little lamb,” they say, their voice sickly sweet. “You have called for me, don’t you remember? You said you were lonely.”

Dread fills you when you realise you do remember. It was a joke, a drunken escapade. You were out with your friends, drinking. You went into the woods. The moon was full. You were, as per usual, the clown of the group, making everyone laugh, complaining how you were the only one without a girlfriend. You climbed onto an old log, and proclaimed, “I would sell my soul to the Devil for a girlfriend! Fuck, I am so lonely!” and you laughed, and everyone laughed. They teased you, saying you surely don’t mean it, and you said, “of course I mean it,” and you spun around, took a swig of the cheap wine you brought along, and called upon the Devil three more times.

“Tell the Devil I mean it”, you said, “tell her I’d fuck her if she would have me, I am so fucking horny,” and you laughed and everyone laughed, and you were drunk, and you don’t remember the rest of the night or how you got home. The next morning you were so hungover you barely remembered anything that happened.

Until now.

“Loneliness is a demon that eats at people. I would know,” they chuckle, the sweetest sound. “Especially humans… Humans crave connection, they simply long for it. And you are lonely, my sweet little dove, I can feel it.”

“I—” you started, but they interrupt you.

“Don’t worry, lamb, I am here to help you. That’s why you’ve asked for me, haven’t you?”

You want to tell them you didn’t ask for this, it was a mistake, you didn’t really mean it, you were drunk, you take it back—

Their silky voice cuts through your thoughts.

“Tell me, would you like to be my friend?”

When the Devil asks you to be their friend you ought to tread carefully.

“What happens if I refuse the Devil’s offer for friendship?” you ask.

They chuckle. They lean in, impossibly close. You are scared to death, afraid they will hurt you. You squeeze your eyes shut. You feel them in your space, around you, everywhere. Their wings flutter around you.

They don’t lay a finger on you, however. You feel hot breath on your ear.

“I prefer Lucifer,” they whisper in your ear. You notice that Lucifer smells faintly of violets and burning wood.

“I realise you are reluctant to accept my offer for friendship. However, would you like to take a stroll with me?”

You open your eyes and see them towering over you. A shiver runs down your spine.

You are still unsure.

“You don’t have to, of course,” Lucifer says, “but it will probably be a while before you wake. Might as well kill the time.”

They do have a point, you think.

“I guess we can take a stroll,” you say and they grin at you. It’s a dangerous sort of smile. You find it incredibly charming.

They offer you their arm to lean on. After a second of consideration, you take it.

Their arm is warm, and as you link yours underneath it you immediately feel safe.

You blink, and suddenly you are in the most beautiful garden you have ever seen. Your mouth gapes open in awe.

“Are we still in Hell?” you ask.

“We are indeed. This is where I take my friends.”

You stay silent for a moment, taking in the beauty around you as you walk. Violets are blooming at every step.

“How did you know violets are my favourite flower?”

“Oh, are they? A mere coincidence,” says Lucifer and grins widely at you, flashing their white teeth.

You walk together for a while. Their strong arm is supporting you and you can’t help but be enamoured with them. Every once in a while, you feel their wing brush against your back. It sends delicious shivers down your spine. Their white curls are bouncing ever so slightly as they walk and you find yourself staring. They don’t seem to mind. The weirdest thing is, you can’t remember the last time you felt this peaceful. You find yourself thinking you could get used to this.

“Why do you want me as your friend, though?” you ask after a while, “What do you hope to gain from that?”

“Why, I hope gain a friend. And as for why I want you in particular as my friend…” they stop walking and look at you. “I do find your soul utterly captivating.”

“I must admit, I am surprised you haven’t asked what you will gain from our friendship. Don’t you wish to know?” they cock their head ever so slightly. Their piercing eyes are looking at your soul again. You feel naked. You cannot look away.

“Tell me, please,” you say.

“Think of every desire you’ve ever had. Every sinful thought that ever crossed your mind. Everything you never thought you could have. Do it.”

You do it.

“Did you imagine it?” They take your chin in their hand. You feel your skin tingle under their fingers. They lean in, closer, closer, closer, until their nose is almost touching yours. You feel their hot breath on your lips.

“It’s yours to have now.”

You feel dizzy. Your chest is heaving. You feel a craving, a desire you can’t name, and you can imagine the sweet gratification of its fulfilment.

“Everything?” you ask, your voice hoarse.

“Everything,” they say, and the hot breath that washes over your lips makes you wild. They are still holding your chin. It’s not painful but you can’t move.

“May I… make a request then?” You are so overcome by desire that you struggle to think.

They chuckle, a puff of heat on your lips. “Greedy girl. You already made your request that night in the woods. But I will humour you. Make one more.”

You barely comprehend what they’re saying. All you feel is desire. Your eyes drift to their wings.

“May I… touch your wings?”

You want to touch their beautiful wings so badly, but you are waiting for permission. There is a second of silence. To you, it seems like an eternity.

Finally, they speak.

“I said, whatever you desire. I fulfil my promises.”

They turn around slowly. You find yourself face to face with their wings. They are jet black, but you can see little veins running through them if you look closely. They seem impossibly smooth.

You reach as far up as you can and run the back of your fingers all the way to the place where the wings grow out of their back. Lucifer shivers.

Encouraged by that reaction you repeat the same motion again and again, then mirror it on the other wing with your other hand. Then you run your hands all along the base of their wings.

Lucifer moans.

The sound sends a jolt straight to your core. The wave of arousal helps you gather the courage to plant a hot kiss on their right wing. They moan again. You continue to kiss your way to the base of their wings, then all the way down along their spine until you reach the very end of it. The moans they are letting out are unholy. You fall down to your knees, your hands on their hips now. You want to continue your way down, but you are not sure if you’re allowed to. It takes an absurd amount of effort to stop.

“Can I?” you ask, hoping, praying they will say yes.

They turn around and look down at you. Their piercing gaze makes you dizzy, makes you want to pray to the Devil.

They snap their fingers and suddenly you are in that grand hall from before. There is a throne there now and they are sitting on it. You are still on your knees in front of them.

“Take what you desire,” they say.

“You may touch me here,” they touch their knee, “or here,” they move their hand upwards on their thigh, “or there,” they slip their hand underneath their red robe. When they pull their hand out their fingers are glistening. You feel your mouth water.

“Or even there,” they continue, their tone almost nonchalant, as they slowly, deliberately pull the robe off of their shoulders, exposing two small, perfect breasts. “Wherever you wish, my pet.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You start by kissing their leather boot. They seem to like that.

“Yes,” they say, their voice breathy, “worship me.”

And worship them you do.

You slowly reach underneath their long red robe, running your hands over their boots and then reaching their smooth knees. You spread the robe open and kiss your way up their calves to their knees. You are moving on from their knees to their thighs, leaving a trail of hot kisses on their impossibly soft skin, when they move one of their legs up and put it over the armrest of the throne, spreading themselves in front of you. They aren’t wearing anything underneath the robe and you are met with the sight of their glistening arousal. You barely stop yourself from burying your face in those silky folds immediately — you want to kiss your way up to them, you want to savour it.

You continue kissing their milky thighs, revelling in the way they feel under your lips. Lucifer’s breathing is getting more ragged by the second. You bite into their thigh. It feels like sin.

“Naughty thing,” they let out a breathy chuckle. “Bite me again.”

You bite their thigh again and they moan. You can’t restrain yourself anymore and you bury your face into their pussy. They grab a fistful of your hair. You suck, you lick, and there is no method to it, only lust. You are overwhelmed by how good their arousal tastes and you just want more, more, more.

Their wings flutter around you. One of them touches your back, and you remember how much you caressing them made them moan.

Lucifer is grinding on your face now and it’s so hot you almost don’t manage to pull away. You look up at them and say, “I want to touch your wings.”

“Go ahead, then,” they say. They are ever so slightly out of breath and their gaze is hooded and heavy.

You climb up into their lap. With one hand you reach between their legs, running your fingers along their wetness, and with the other you start caressing one of their wings. The moan Lucifer lets out as soon as your hand touches their wing is sin itself. You start kissing their neck as you caress the wing with one hand and circle their clit with the other. You keep the motions on their clit steady, but you experiment with touching their wings, squeezing their breasts, alternating between the two, touching different spots, seeing which one makes them moan louder. What sends them over the edge is when you give their wing a hot, open mouthed kiss. They let out a high pitched moan and you feel them tense up underneath you. You continue to touch them until they push your hands away.

Their orgasm is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever witnessed. But still, you desire more, more, more. You feel frenzied and hot all over.

“Please,” you say, “may I request one more thing?”

“You’ve requested enough things,” they say and push you away from their lap. You fall on the floor.

“Please, I will do anything.”

Mistake. But you don’t care. Lust is making you lose your mind.

“Anything? Well, aren’t you a greedy little slut.”

The word sounds sinful when they say it, their gentle voice and angelic face clashing with the crudeness of it on their lips.

They get up from the throne, silken robe closing around their legs, no longer exposing them. Their breasts are still bared. They tower above you.

“First you get drunk, like a naughty little girl you are, then you go into the woods and call for Lucifer Morningstar, the Ruler of Hell, like they’re a servant who is here to grant your pathetic little desires.”

You are still on the floor, looking up at them. You feel like you’re about to cry, but you are also still burning with desire, the ache between your legs not waning for a second. It’s almost uncomfortable.

“And now, you ask me to touch you. Greedy, greedy girl,” they sneer.

“However, to show you I am still interested in being your friend, I will grant your request. Get up.”

You get up as quickly as you can. You feel hot, way too hot. You feel a throb between your legs, uncomfortable, unrelenting. You wonder if that’s what happens when you fuck the Devil.

They grab your jaw. “You like it when I do that, don’t you?”

You want to nod, but you can’t, their grip is too strong. “Yes,” you say instead.

“Let me tell you a little secret, as your friend.” They lean in. Smell of violets overwhelms you. “I like it too,” they whisper. Their hot breath on your ear almost makes you fall apart.

They let out a melodious chuckle and kiss your neck. You shiver, but you feel like you’re on fire.

“Oh, poor thing,” they coo at you. “I haven’t even started yet, and you are already falling apart. Tell me, pet, what made you think you’d be able to endure being fucked by me, hm?”

“I… didn’t think that. I didn’t think anything, I was drunk—” you say, feeling embarrassed.

“Oh, but you did, sweet lamb. You said it yourself. Tell the Devil I mean it, tell her I’d fuck her if she would have me, I am so fucking horny.” Their voice is sickeningly sweet. “Well, what if she would have you, hm? What would you do then?”

“I—I don’t know.” You can only think about the ache between your legs.

“Hm. Well, then I shall have to fuck you and see.”

They bite into your neck. You cry out. They grab a fistful of your hair and pull you towards themselves, clashing your lips together. They forcefully slip their tongue into your mouth, claiming you, making you theirs. You can barely breathe.

They snap their fingers and suddenly you’re naked. If this was any other scenario, you’d feel self conscious, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You are consumed by lust and you feel like you’re going crazy.

They break the kiss. “You wanted me to touch you. Like this?”

You gasp when they slap you. You hate yourself for liking it.

“You like that, I know,” they say softly, “but it’s not enough. You still need more. Tell me, what would you do for more?”

“Anything.”

You’re burning.

“Anything? Oh, I do hope you mean that.”

They lean in and kiss the cheek they just slapped, the softest, warmest kiss that makes you tingle. It feels like heaven. They run their hands over your breasts, squeezing them with gusto, then pinch and twist your nipples forcefully, making you yelp.

“Will you be my friend, then?” they ask sweetly, pulling you closer and squeezing your ass, making you moan.

You are too dizzy and too hot to form sentences. They spank you forcefully. You moan again, louder this time.

“Answer me.”

“Yes, yes, anything,” you say.

They smile. It’s lecherous and it sends a shiver straight to your core.

“Finally, pet. But you have kept me waiting for far too long. I feel like some sort of punishment must be in order.”

They snap their fingers again and you find yourself bent over their knee as they sit on their throne.

“Thirthy-three strikes. Count.”

They don’t give you even a second to process the command before they start spanking you. You lose count immediately, only aware of the delicious jolts to your core each time they spank you.

“I said, count.” They spank you so forcefully you see stars. A single tear rolls down your cheek. “Now look what you’ve done, I have to start all over again.”

They start spanking you again, and this time you count. It gets harder towards the end, and you can't stop yourself from crying. Your pussy is throbbing with need— you’ve never experienced anything quite that intense — and each slap on your red ass makes you flinch. Pain and pleasure mix in a delicious way and it’s overwhelming, but you still need more.

“Thirty-three,” you finally cry out as they spank you for the last time.

Not giving you a second to recover, they pull you up into their lap with ease. You wince in pain as your ass touches their thigh.

“Aw, poor baby,” they say mockingly. “Let me dry those tears.”

They catch one of your tears with their finger and put it in their mouth. They moan in pleasure at the taste.

“Delicious. Try it.” They catch another tear, ever so gently, then slip two fingers into your mouth.

“Suck.”

You obey.

“See, you can be a good girl when you want to,” they say gently. “Yes, such a good girl.”

You melt at their praise. It makes you warm all over. They pull their finger out of your mouth with a wet pop.

They kiss you again, this time softly, delicately. They run their nails over your back, the most gentle of touches, but it makes you shiver and burn and shake. They put one hand on your neck, tangle it into your hair, bringing you closer, closer, closer, while the other hand finds itself on your waist. They slip their tongue in your mouth, and you lose yourself in their touch. You don’t know where you end and where Lucifer begins anymore, and that ache between your legs feels like actual hellfire. Maybe it is actual hellfire. Maybe that’s what happens when the Devil fucks you. You don’t know.

Their hands are everywhere, and you aren’t sure how many hands there are anymore, and you don’t know where you are, you don’t know who you are — the only thing you are aware of is Lucifer and fire, fire, fire between your legs.

“Yes, my sweet lamb, moan for me,” they purr, and you are surprised to realise you are moaning rather loudly and unabashedly. You are barely aware of your actions, no longer in control of your body.

After an eternity of delicious agony, their fingers graze your clit. You feel like you’re about to fall apart.

They circle your clit, agonisingly slowly, and you wail. You tangle your fingers into their soft hair, trying to hold onto something to keep yourself from falling apart.

“Oh, darling, I am barely touching you,” they say sweetly. “I do have to ask you before you lose yourself completely, do you want to stay here with me?”

You can barely comprehend what they’re saying. “Stay?” you manage to utter through your moans. You try to rut against their hand, but they grab you by the hips, holding you still.

“Yes, lamb, stay still for a second longer, yes, that’s it,” they coo at you. “Good girl. Yes, will you stay here with me forever? For all eternity?”

“Eternity…?”

There is a distant alarm going off somewhere in your head, but you can’t pull yourself together long enough to think rationally. They run their fingers over your wet slit and suddenly there are no more thoughts left in your mind.

“Yes, my sweet. An eternity of pleasure, an eternity of this,” they hiss as they slip a finger inside of you. You grip their hair tighter, afraid you will fall apart. You have never experienced pleasure as intense as this.

“Yes,” you say, “yes, yes, yes, please, yes. I want you so much, oh please, fuck—”

They start pumping their finger in and out, slowly, hitting just the perfect spot, but it’s not enough, you need more.

“More, please, more, aah—” you scream as they slip another finger and start fucking you forcefully. It’s the most intense pleasure you’ve ever experienced.

“Do we have a deal, then?” they ask, completely calm and collected as they fuck you into oblivion.

If you were in your right mind, you would have been wary of making any sort of deal with the Devil. If you were in your right mind, you would have realised your fate was sealed that night in the woods and that they had you all along. But considering the Devil is currently kuckle deep in you, you have no chance. They know that. They simply enjoy toying with their prey.

The only thing you manage to do is to scream an ear-piercing “yes” as you come.

When you come down from your high, the fire you felt before is no longer between your legs, and it is no longer pleasant. It is in your soul. The air no longer smells of violets — it smells like rotten flesh.

Lucifer gives you their sweetest smile. They look like a true cherub, the prettiest of angels.

“Welcome to Hell, sweet lamb.”

#lucifer morningstar #the sandman #lucifer x reader #lucifer morningstar x reader #gwendoline christie #is a tag i guess i should use #but i feel too filthy to use her name as a tag for this garbage ahahahah #i guess i did it anyways #amazing how i can produce an almost 5000 words fic when i'm procrastinating work lol #this is smutty smutty smut fest #pls pay attention to the trigger warnings

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