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etz-ashashiyot · 27 days

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You know how sometimes arguing a point is losing?

Like if you engage the argument at all you are inherently putting up for debate things that should never be up for debate and the argument itself is degrading?

You see this with interpersonal gaslighting:

A gaslighter doesn’t simply need to be right. They also need for you to believe that they are right. In stage one, you know that they’re being ridiculous, but you argue anyways. You argue for hours, without resolution. You argue over things that shouldn’t be up for debate – your feelings, your opinions, your experience of the world. You argue because you need to be right, you need to be understood, or you need to get their approval. In stage one, you still believe yourself, but you also unwittingly put that belief up for debate. In stage two, you consider your gaslighter’s point of view first and try desperately to get them to see your point of view as well. You continue to engage because you’re afraid of what their perspective of you says about you. Winning the argument now has one objective : proving that you’re still good, kind, and worthwhile. In stage three, when you’re hurt, you first ask, “What’s wrong with me?” You consider their point of view as normal. You start to lose your ability to make your own judgements. You become consumed with understanding them and seeing their perspective. You live with and obsess over every criticism, trying to solve it.

[Source]

But you also see this on a broader societal level, with people asking unfathomably awful questions about minority groups, such as:

[Source]

It should go without saying, but no group of people should be forced to explain that yes, they really are real people, dickheads. The question doesn't deserve an answer; it deserves at best a disgusted eyeroll + "Are you a Nazi?" and at worst a punch to the face.

There is also the related phenomenon of the "when did you stop beating your wife?" type questions. The question is framed as a yes or no question, but the real answer for the innocent is: "I've never beaten my wife and never would." But even that answer still dignifies the question with a real response and puts the idea in the mind of the listener that hey maybe that's a real possibility and this guy is lying because of course he wouldn't just admit that. Now I don't know what to believe, but I'm skeptical.

Even if he answers, doubt has been cast on his character and many people (maybe even most people) neither have the attention span to listen to his full counter argument and supporting evidence nor are invested enough in strangers' lives to take the time to dig for facts on their own. Critically, it comes from a good impulse that shouldn't be repressed or taken too far in the opposite direction; namely, that we want to believe survivors and make it socially acceptable to speak out about abuse.

This leaves us with the uncomfortable reality that balancing believing survivors and whistle-blowers against not automatically believing allegations that very well may be false and/or in bad faith is a very tricky balancing act indeed. Because of this, people tend to struggle with taking survivors seriously and with presuming innocence until guilt has actually been proven, both. And as for the latter, this is at least partially due to the same psychological factors underlying the Don't Think of an Elephant problem.

Why am I discussing this?

See the thing is that these types of discourse have all been used, heavily, against the Jewish community, especially since Oct 7th, but really going back hundreds of years.

If you want to be our ally, you need to be on guard for how people use this rhetoric to accuse Jews of absolutely batshit cookoo bananas allegations (like being lizard people or having horns, or secretly running the world, or killing Christian babies to use their blood in our matzah, etc. etc.) and get away with it. Now obviously if so many people weren't already racist towards Jews as a people and had a vested interest in maintaining their supercessionist cultural worldview from Christianity and Islam, it would be a lot harder for this to work. Alas, the past 2000 years has created a bit of a snowballing effect.

This culminates in the effect described so well by Sartre:

Never believe that anti-Semites are completely unaware of the absurdity of their replies. They know that their remarks are frivolous, open to challenge. But they are amusing themselves, for it is their adversary who is obliged to use words responsibly, since he believes in words. The anti-Semites have the right to play. They even like to play with discourse for, by giving ridiculous reasons, they discredit the seriousness of their interlocutors. They delight in acting in bad faith, since they seek not to persuade by sound argument but to intimidate and disconcert. If you press them too closely, they will abruptly fall silent, loftily indicating by some phrase that the time for argument is past.

— Jean-Paul Sartre

Right now, Jews are facing extreme levels of these types of rhetorical abuse, and are receiving very little help in the way of pushback.

We have to stop trying to explain ourselves and start just naming these tactics instead.

#antisemitism #המצב™️#jumblr #how to argue

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xueyidweams · 2 months

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rambling again (gn reader, nsfw under the cut)

at the start of your relationship with him, sex was kind of… one sided? he made sure you were satisfied, let you do whatever you want even though you could see discomfort behind his eyes (when you could catch it you obviously did not go through with whatever u were about to). it felt.. weird. he was good, he’s really good at sex its just, it doesn’t look like he’s really, actually enjoying it for himself as well as you.

you decide to talk about it while you guys are sprawling on the bed in the morning, his usual silk pyjamas hugging the right places and his shawl makes him look like a cozy cat. seeing him this relaxed bubbled up the questions in your mind you have been meaning to ask but he’d been too busy. so you decide it is time, now.

“Hey, love. i hope this doesnt come across wrong but… do you really feel good when we have sex? or do you feel like its something you have to perform to keep me satisfied?”

and Aeons, you saw him freeze. he looked at you as he laughed in his usual demeanor and yet there was a tinge of awkwardness, you’re his lover of course you can tell. “What… made you say that?” you shook your head and reassured him that it wasnt his ‘performance’ in bed that was bad in an attempt to ease him into the topic. you simply wanted him to enjoy himself too, let you be the one giving for once. for him to sit back, relax and enjoy.

he sighs wistfully and his eyes look spaced out and yet he’s talking to you, “it’s not that i.. don’t enjoy it, i love embracing you in every way its just…” he looks into your eyes as his fingers go to his nails and scratch a bit, “im not used to.. feeling a lot of pleasure out of it, i guess.” he sees your brows crease in concern and he shakes his head, don’t look at him like that don’t look at him like you care about this more than he thinks you do don’t do that— “no, no, don’t be concerned. i’m fine, i really am.”

you get closer as you hold the hand that was on his neck, bringing it to your face. “then let me be the one to give tonight, i want you to just lay there and enjoy it, please? or right now! if you feel like it, of course.” his heart sinks and flutters off of his chest at the same time, he did want it— but that doesn’t mean he deserves it.

he looks into your eager eyes, you’re looking at him like a puppy that wants a treat. its cute, you’re always like this. like a dog that doesn’t care how many times it gets kicked or beaten, it’ll still choose kindness, it will still choose to love, it will not snarl its teeth, it will lick the hand that hurt it, you’re loyal and loving—sometimes to a fault and yet he cant help himself.. how can he say no to you when he can practically see your tail swaying back and forth?

“Okay. whatever you want, love.” You smile and he swears it melts off every worry he has, yeah. yeah maybe this was okay.

he groans as you have his dick so deep he can feel his tip hitting the back of your throat. it makes him twitch and whine, your fingers are holding his thighs apart, gently as if to say ‘you can make me stop at any time.’ right now though, he feels those vile thoughts in his head subside as your hands stroke his skin, your mouth and tongue working desperately for him.. you’re working for him.

his hand slowly grabs your hair and tugs, and the choked whine you let out with the added stimuli of your teeth grazing him just a bit makes him cum down your throat, whimpering your name when you don’t let go of his dick, making him pump his entire load down your throat and fuck it makes him throb.

you let go of his dick with a pop, licking your lips and smiling at him and fuck you look like such a dumb dog, he wants to eat you so violently it makes his dick stiffen again. so embarrassing, he’s acting like a virgin and he feels like it. the way you look up at him as your fingers curl around the base of his dick and your tongue goes lower, poking into his hole. he nods and whimpers a ‘yes’ as you get to work. your fingers jerking him off as your tongue that’s stained with his filth is practically fucking his hole.

he whines your name so loud, he didn’t know he could make his voice go that high. he looks down at you and the power he feels is indescribable, you look so desperate and for what? his cum? that’s so pathetic, right? and yet he feels himself tighten, the knot in his stomach getting tighter and tighter in an embarrassingly fast pace as he feels you hooking your arms under his knees and bend his legs so that you can eat him out better. he has to bite his own finger to keep himself from whining like that again.

it’s pathetic, it’s desperate, it feels so good, you feel so good, you feel so warm, you feel so safe, he feels like he shouldn’t be the one receiving all of this but you decide that he does deserve it. and he’s never one to turn down his lovers’ requests.

#i feelinsnae #hsr smut #honkai star rail #aventurine #aventurine x reader #aventurine x male reader #hsr aventurine #hsr x reader #hsr x male reader #aventurine x you

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c-is-for-circinate · 9 months

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It feels like there's this narrative that fandom keeps wanting to explore, with Steve Harrington, about this very specific type of martyrdom where self-sacrifice is an expression of a lack of self-worth. And, like, yes, write the narrative that's meaningful to you, and yes ok Steve does admittedly get beaten up a lot, but -- legitimately I do not think this narrative is actually Steve's story.

Like, without gendering things too much, there is something in the Steve fanon that I keep seeing that's so reflective of the specific kind of sacrifice and societal pressures exerted on girls, specifically -- this story of 'you make yourself worthy and worthwhile by carving pieces out of yourself', of believing that you must always give and never receive to justify the space you take up in the world. Yes, boys can experience this same pressure (and obviously trans and nb people of all genders run into it as well! sometimes a lot!), but especially in the mid-1980s cultural context where Stranger Things takes place, it's just...really not likely to be a dominant narrative for Steve to be operating under? It doesn't even really match the Steve we see on screen -- who is happy to make sacrifices for the sake of others, yeah, when needed, but who's not particularly kind or giving unless somebody asks first.

And Steve does get hurt a lot on other people's behalf! And this is a problem! It's just a completely different problem than the one fandom keeps writing.

Steve, and I'm going to say this forever, is a story about toxic masculinity, which the show may or may not even know it's writing. The archetypes influencing Steve's character as it shows up on the screen (and the stories and messages that Steve would actually be surrounded by in his actual life) are not deconstructions of suffering heroes who never should have had to fight in the first place and were destroyed by it. That's the Buffy the Vampire Slayer story. Steve's not Buffy. Steve's cultural context is Indiana Jones.

Steve is The Guy! And part of being The Guy is that you're expected to take the hits -- not because Steve is less important than the women-and-children he's supposed to protect, but because, the story says, he will get less hurt. Why should Steve get in between Billy and Lucas? Because Steve is an eighteen-year-old athlete and Lucas is in middle school, and of the two of them, Steve actually stands a chance. (And yes, Steve got badly hurt there, and Max had to save him -- but if Lucas, if Max had taken that beating they would not have been running through those tunnels later.) Was somebody else better-qualified to dive down to the uncertain bottom of a cold lake in the middle of the night? Steve doesn't list his credentials there as a way of justifying some ideal of martyrdom; he is literally the most likely person on the boat not to drown.

And make no mistake: when Steve's pulled into the Upside-Down, he survives the bats long enough for backup to get there. Realistic or not, he's apparently tough enough that he's physically capable of hiking barefoot through hell without much slowing down. Steve is the tank for the same reason as any tank: because he literally has been shown to have the most hit points in the group. You cannot honestly engage with Steve in this context without dealing with the fact that he's right.

AND THIS IS A PROBLEM! This is still a problem! But it's not the same problem that fandom seems to expect. It's not an expression of caretaking or the need for self-sacrifice; it's not an issue with Steve valuing himself less. It's an issue of toxic masculinity so ingrained that Steve doesn't even recognize he's suffering from it, because one of the tenets of toxic masculinity is that Big Strong Guys don't suffer. It's just a concussion, it's fine, he'll walk it off. It's not that Steve thinks he deserves to get hurt, or even that he's less deserving of safety than the others. It's that absolutely nothing in his cultural context allows him to admit that he can be hurt in a significant way.

There's still so much tension that can be gotten out of this situation, I swear. There's so much that can be explored in writing! Hell, the show itself is deconstructing some of this trope, believe it or not, by giving us a Steve who absolutely can take all the hits thrown his direction but still doesn't know what the fuck he's doing with his life. It turns out that doing his job as The Guy is only mildly helpful in horror movie situations (mostly by buying time for smarter, squishier people to do the damage from behind him), and somewhere a little worse than useless in everyday life.

But Steve does not go out of his way to self-sacrifice, he really doesn't. He just does his job. He's The Guy. Of course he's not going to let a kid or a girl or some scared skinny nerd who just learned about monsters yesterday take the hits. Of course Steve's got this.

#Stranger Things #do I dare character-tag this #does this count as an Unpopular Opinion if I'm calling out fanon #eh let's be bold #Steve Harrington #and #toxic masculinity #which is apparently just A Thing I Post About Now

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sc0tters · 2 months

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Guest Room | Trevor Zegras

summary: sometimes all you need is a trip away to an old friend.

request: yes/no

warnings: sexual themes, p in v, oral (m receiving), use of a sex toy, swearing.

word count: 4.62k

authors note: this is acc for a Trevor I have never written for in pre ducks debut so this takes place in 2021! I wanted to change things up for our f1 x hockey playlist so here we have one who is a rookie! I think it should be a given by now but we need to thank @sweetestdesire for letting me pick her Trevor smut brain to help write this one out!

You needed a break.

Life had been on this weird high after you won the Formula Two championship and were now moving up into the McLaren F1 team as a reserve driver. You hated how out of place you felt yet that somehow you still hadn’t done enough to be where you deserved to be.

You had settled into your apartment in London now and after spending Christmas with your family you got an offer you couldn’t resist. Trevor had just returned home from the World Junior Championships and he was in need of some company in his apartment. He was back in San Diego awaiting his debut for the Gulls but that didn’t matter for him as he craved seeing the one person who was ready to be honest with him. You craved that attention too as you were at your wits end with everyone in your parents lives wanting to know about your career “you stay safe okay?” Ellen sighed as she pulled you into her arms.

It made Jim smile as you rolled your eyes “Z might be irresponsible but at least you know who killed me if I go missing.” You joked seeing your mom grow unimpressed “you should get going before you are late kid.” Jim pointed out as he kissed your head before he ushered you off.

Even as you went off in the world before each race your parents were watching as you left to the airport. Hockey fans were all around with most in redwings gear, making your bluejays cap blend you in as though you were meant to be a mere fly on the wall. You watched your brothers do well in both Vancouver and New Jersey when they seemed to have everything under control like they knew what they were doing was right for them.

You used to love racing, it was your everything. But spending a season forcing every free moment you had into training only to be beaten to a seat, it killed you. It threw this spanner into the works that fried your brain leaving you unsure about everything as you lacked the simple clarity that was once your comfort.

That was part of the reason you couldn’t say no to joining Trevor. He might have always been Jacks friend first but that boy knew how to react to whatever it was you seemed to feel. So in that moment you just needed someone to be honest with you.

San Diego was warmer than Michigan as you were now getting ready to discard your coat as there was no snow in sight“speedy!” As ironic as your nickname was, Trevor didn’t give it to your for your speed on a track in your car. He gave it to you because he has never seen someone run away from a group of teenager boys after a work out as fast as you do.

You whipped your head around with a soft smile on your face as you locked eyes with the older boy “it’s good to see you.” He mumbled pushing himself off of his car as he made his way over to you “wish I could say the same mr MVP.” You teased barely being able to contain your smile as you let out a laugh at the feeling of his arms around you.

It was one place that you always seemed to feel comfortable no matter where you two were “don’t start with me ms world champion.” It didn’t take him long to see that is joke didn’t land in the way that he wanted it to “think you’ve been on a long flight.” He announced taking your suitcase from behind you letting his one arm stay wrapped around your waist.

Being back around him already was having an impact on you as you felt like you were melting into his touch “thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper, one you swore he couldn’t hear. But instead he smiled as he nodded opting to keep his newfound joy to himself.

In all honesty you were surprised when you saw his apartment, the ride to the building was just enough time that you were both able to catch up on life. But now you were stood in an apartment that had not one but two properly decorated rooms “when did you decide to get a bed?” You cocked your head remembering to the time where he had only an air mattress on the floor for weeks.

It made him pull his eyes into a sharp line “ha ha very funny.” He placed his keys in the bowl before his eyes shot to the grey couch in front of him “but my mom came and decorated the place.” His confession made your lips form into an o shape.

You clasped your hands together “I knew it!” A laugh left your lips as you were happy to hear that you were right “yes now would you like to come sit and tell me why you picked San Diego over New Jersey?” Jack had let it slip to Trevor how irritated he was that you didn’t want to see your brother but instead his best friend.

Trevor tapped the cushion next to him motioning to you to join him on the couch “I needed to get away.” You confessed as you shrugged “Jack means well but he thinks reserve is such a great position for me.” Your scoff wasn’t missed as you shook your head.

The boy felt bad as he knew your brother hadn’t shut up about your achievements “you deserve to be on a team.” Trevor disagreed with your opinion “and I will always let you come back here to avoid your brothers.” His words made you smile.

He watched you pull your feet on the cushion “be careful because soon you won’t get rid of me.” You joked as you let out a giggle “hey at least you know how to cook.” Trevor shrugged making you scoff.

You threw the pillow behind you at him resulting in his laugh echoing off of the walls of his apartment “I would not cook for you!” You shook your head “you wouldn’t have to do it every day.” The boy countered as he smiled.

The two of you got the chance to just sit there in this peaceful silence “but on a real note could you cook tomorrow night?” He began as he scratched the back of his head “I have practice late and I don’t think either of us can be doing restaurants two nights in a row.” He explained as your stomach growled on cue “you want dinner now?” Trevor teased as he smiled running his fingers over your knee.

You wanted to act like you were but as the last thing you had was the cut up fruit you had for breakfast and the overpriced bottle of water from the airport “let me get dressed.” You were in dire need of a proper change out of your winter clothing for the warmer weather that the west coast sported “and y/n.” Trevor called out as he watched you walk to the guest bedrooms door.

You cocked your head as you nodded “I’m glad that you’re here.” His confession was so sweet that if any of the other boys heard him, Trevor would have been chirped at forever “me too.” You smiled ad you walked into the guest bedroom letting the door shut behind you.

When Trevor left for practice you found yourself at a mall. The boy said he was going to be gone for hours with a game prep session right after which gave you both ample time to shop for groceries and window shop. Part of you had been left irritated as there was a new headline that again called into question your abilities as a driver if all you were getting was a reserve role.

It was just another tap at your sanity that was only left feeling worse after last night. You had woken up in the middle of the night needing a glass of water when you heard Trevor. He clearly had a video open of some sort as you could hear both foreign female and male voices. But what got to you about it was that it was porn.

Trevor let whimpers and moans fall from his lips that were enough to make you squirm as you had been feeling sexual frustrated. The last time you had sex was well over six months ago and your fingers and brush handle could only do so much for you and it wasn’t enough.

So when you walked by Lotions and Lace it was as though your thoughts had been answered. You had never made the jump to sex toys before but with your only other current option being your brother’s best friend it seemed like the better of the two. Your eyes settled on the first vibrator you found as it was hot pink and on some massive display case.

Before you knew it you were back at his place with dinner in the oven as you stared at the bag in front of you. The box that held the vibrator peeked out from the corner, with some over exaggerated message about pleasure on it that made your cheeks grow warm.

Your foot tapped against the floor as you looked to your watch and then back to the box, before your eyes settled on the door to Trevor’s room. He had shut it before he left but you could still hear the faint moans from last night as you let your hand form a fist as your thighs pressed against each other “fuck it.” You grumbled grabbing the bag from the table as you headed to your own room.

You didn’t bother with shutting the door behind you. Since you could feel the wet patch forming on your panties, and you swore you were going to have at least twenty minutes before Trevor came home. Your leggings were stripped from your legs as you pulled your panties down with them making sure to kick both items of clothing away.

The buzzing noise echoed in your ears as you trailed the head of the vibrator over your clit as your thighs spread “fuck.” You whimpered feeling your thighs begin to squirm.

The picture of Trevor’s moans played in your mind as you caught your lower lip between your teeth. Your eyes screwed shut as you began to tease yourself enjoying the feeling of pleasure that you hadn’t felt in years “please Z.” The whimper fell for your lips as you began to picture him on top of you.

Trevor smiled as he walked back into the apartment as the smell of chicken in the oven invaded his nostrils “y’know the offer to come live as my chef is still on the table.” He joked thinking you were sat in the living room “god.” You moaned feeling your eyes roll back into your head.

It was enough to make the boy freeze as he realised what was going on. He felt wrong letting his eyes trail to your room but somehow he couldn’t find a way to stop himself. Your moans echoed in his ears and as his cock grew harder in his shorts.

He let his bag drop to the floor as he cleared his throat “I’m so close Z.” The whimper made him walk closer to your room as he wondered if he heard you right “feel so good Trev.” Now he knew you were talking about him.

The boy took more steps to your door until he finally let his eyes stick in the opening of the door. You were a heavenly sight as you were in a strappy top and nothing on your bottom half was bare as you continued to tease your clit with your new toy.

Trevor couldn’t help but grunt as you moaned letting your body squirm against the sheets. The sudden noise made your eyes shoot open to the door where the boy stood “hey pretty girl.” You continued what you were doing as you watched him stare at you.

He smirked watching your free hand travel up to your breast “need more.” You moaned again starting to feel like you were getting close “you think I’d just let you get to come that fast?” Trevor sucked at his teeth as he crossed his arms.

Your face dropped as he laughed “c’mon you’d have to beg if you want anything more.” The boy explained walking closer to you “want you to make me feel so full.” You begged feeling tears form in your eyes as he smirked.

The boy stood his ground “so is that why you decided to act like a little slut and fuck yourself on my guest bed?” His words made your cheeks turn red as you nodded “needed it so bad.” You confessed as you watched him hover over you.

His hand dropped to yours as he helped control your hand wanting to get you to come “be a good girl and let go then.” He took control of your vibrator as he tilted it closer to your clit “fuck!” You groaned arching your back as you drove your hips closer to the toy.

Trevor watched in awe as pleasure shot through you reached the high “god right there!” You whimpered feeling your thighs shake as they began to clamp together.

He didn’t let it stop as he watched he’d you continue to fuck yourself through your orgasm “please Z enough.” You shook your head trying to pull away from him “you think you have been a good girl?” He asked seeing tears stream down your cheeks from the overstimulation as your cunt burned.

As you stayed quiet the boy finally listened pulling it away from you “holy shit.” Your chest heaved as you pushed your hands through your hair “you still with me pretty girl?” Trevor toyed the toy off as he helped you sit up straight “felt so good.” Your confession was quiet as you stared at the ground.

It made him smile as he ran his fingers under your chin “c’mere doll.” He muttered as he cupped your cheeks pulling you closer to him “think it’s about time I get to taste you.” Trevor dropped his head to kiss you.

The kiss was needy as his tongue grazed across your lower lip “mhm.” The hockey player let out a grunt as you straddled his lap given yourself the upper hand.

You propped yourself up by your knees as the taste of his kiss had remnant’s of the Gatorade you assumed he drank after practice “fuck baby.” Trevor let out a grunt as he watched you grind your hips into his.

He let his hands travel down to your hips trying to stop you “I’m gonna need you to behave before I come in my fucking pants.” He warned shaking his head as he looked down to the new wet patch that was forming on his pants “you’re no fun.” You let your lips form a pout as you kissed him once more before you slid onto the floor letting your knees rest on the cool wooden floor.

The boy swore he was dreaming as he watched you sit there “think it’s time I make you feel so good.” You cooed sending him a smile as you ran your hands up his sweatpants “fuck please baby.” He begged propping himself up as he placed his hands behind him.

You tugged at his sweatpants pulling them down with his boxers. His cock sprung out as it hit his torso “you look so pretty.” You mumbled licking your lips as you felt your mouth water “it’s all for you doll.” He confessed biting at the inside of his cheek when your hand wrapped around his cock.

You pumped them up and down a few times before you watched his precum ooze out of the swollen head “fuck don’t tease me.” Trevor groaned watching your head drop to the point where you were mere millimetres away from him “ask me nicely.” You let out a dry laugh looking up at him.

Your hand began to speed up leaving him quiet “not so brave are you know big boy?” You cocked your head as you grazed your thumb over his head picking up the precum leaving Trevor to watch as you brought your hand up to your mouth wrapping your lips around the finger.

Your tongue swirled around it letting out a moan as you could taste the saltiness on your tongue “please.” Trevor found himself jealous of your finger and he couldn’t believe that he was willing to admit that too “since you asked so nicely.” You nodded smiling to yourself as you slipped your thumb from your lips watching the trail of spit break from your mouth.

The hockey player didn’t need to say anything more as you wrapped your lips around his cock “fuck you’re perfect.” Trevor let out a grunt as his hands went to your hair.

You hollowed your cheeks out as your nose hit his pelvic bone trying to take as much of him as you could. The boy watched you look up at him through hooded eyes “keep sucking that cock f’me.” He mumbled as you fell into this steady rhythm.

He was in awe as the sound of you gagging echoed in his ears as you tried to take more of him each time you let your mouth take more of him as you tilted your head trying to open your throat. Trevor swore it was pure heaven as he began to bring his hips up to meet your face trying to get himself closer to that high.

Last nights efforts felt like a distant thought as Trevor had spent it picturing that you were instead around his cock, rather than his own hand “I’m gonna.” The hockey player let out a grunt as your hand replaced your mouth once more “go make a mess for me Z.” You cooed kissing his lips again.

The taste was addictive as he tried to stop himself “just want to make you feel so good.” You mumbled locking your eyes with his as he nodded “want to taste you before you fuck me so good.” Was the last thing that left your lips before you dropped your head again.

Your pace was brutal practically sucking his cock like it was a lollipop “Jesus y/n.” Trevor grunted as his head fell back when he came letting his release coat the back of your throat “you’re a fucking god.” He mumbled blissfully unaware as you let his limp cock fall from your lips.

You felt some of his release ooze from the side of your mouth “taste so good.” You mumbled bringing your hand to pot it back into your mouth. He swore that if he wasn’t still coming down from his first orgasm he would have come again.

Trevor cleared his throat when you crawled back into his lap “wanna be a good girl and swallow f’me?” He asked as he cocked his head letting his hand wrap around your throat when you nodded.

His hand caught the feeling of the release going down your throat “fuck you’re a pretty girl.” He muttered running his finger over your lower lip “I need you Z.” You pleaded letting out a whimper as you felt his cock beneath you.

As you clenched your cunt the sensation made you both squirm “what do you want baby?” He asked cocking his head as he began to grind your hips against his.

It made you hiss “your cock.” You got straight to the point as you felt your eyes flutter “ask nicely.” He taunted reminding you of the antics you played earlier on.

You swallowed back a moan “I wanna feel so full of your cock.” You whined biting at your lower lip “want you to fuck me like you mean it.” You pleaded letting a shaken breath leave your lips.

That was all he needed as he picked you up “Trevor!” You squealed wrapping your arms around his neck “just want to fuck you properly doll.” He explained with a smile laying you down on your sheet.

He pulled his top off of his torso before he was left with the sight of you already naked as you stripped out of your vest “think you already knew you were gonna get fucked real good tonight.” Trevor smirked kicking his sweatpants off as he found himself crawling to get closer to you “gonna let me fuck you raw?” The question came more so because he didn’t have any condoms on hand or in his room and he knew he wasn’t going to risk going to the store to get more, letting this opportunity slip past him.

You nodded running your fingers over your breasts “wanted you.” You whined making the boy smirk as pumped his cock ensuring that it was hard again “and now my pretty little girl is gonna get me all that easy huh?” The boy let out a grunt before he situated himself back between your legs “if you won’t Z I am sure that the little toy down there could do me just fine.” You snapped as your eyes pulled into a sharp line.

It made him laugh how he could get under your skin so fast even as your nipples peaked due to the cool air that the fan in your room created “no need to get all angry on me now doll.” Trevor clicked his tongue as he ran his cock over your clit resulting in a whimper leaving your lips.

He repeated the action twice more watching as his tongue darted out of his lips from pure concentration “just fu-ck god!” You practically jumped out of your skin as you felt him thrust his cock into your cunt letting his hips meet yours as he gave you no time to adjust.

The boy smirked letting his head come closer to yours as he halted his movements taking in the sight properly “it’s just me.” He smirked running his fingers up your torso letting his hands cup your breasts ‘fuck off.” You grumbled as his head dipped to your shoulder.

His lips nipped at your tender skin “now that is no way to talk to me when you’re currently full of my dick.” The boy sucked at his teeth as he shook his head enjoying how he could hear just how much his actions left you stagnating your breath “please move.” You pleaded feeling your cunt throb as your walls hugged his cock.

It made him smile as he let his arms go on either side of you trapping you where you were “fuck baby.” He moaned driving his hips away before he pushed them back towards you setting up a painfully slow rhythm, like he wanted to torture you.

Your hands found themselves on either side of his cheeks “and here I was thinking that this mouth was good.” His chain lay flat against your neck as his forehead rested against yours “bout to get me stuck on this cunt.” The possessiveness in his voice made your cunt clench around him as your legs wrapped around his waist resulting in him reaching a deeper part of your core.

His lips grazed yours in a lousy effort to muffle his moan ‘but maybe you would like that?” When you didn’t answer his question immediately he began to increase his pace treating you like you were all of a sudden the last girl he was going to sleep with on this planet “want to be here forever.” You cried out as your breasts began to jolt against his skin with each thrust.

The desperation to come all over again hit you both as if this wouldn’t have been your second orgasms of the night “wanna make you never leave this apartment.” Trevor confessed letting his teeth tug at your lower lip making you whine in pleasure “just fucking make me cum first.” You grumbled letting your mouth form an o shape as he hit your thigh with a soft slap.

Trevor shook his head growing irritated at this new found attitude of yours as he was trying too give you everything that you should have wanted “you want to be a brat and I’ll leave you without that fucking toy.” He warned honestly in half the mind to break it as you clearly weren’t going to need it whilst you were still with him.

His pelvic area grazed your clit making your eyes flutter as you drove your hips up desperate to feel that all over again “thought you liked this cunt too much?” You quipped back through gritted teeth trying your best to ignore how your legs began to shake “didn’t say I needed you to cum first though doll.” The warning was in genuine as you both knew he was going to make sure he fucked you through your own orgasm before he even thought about his own.

The sound of skin slapping was enough for you to break “please let me cum and I’ll let you fuck me whenever you want.” If the boy wasn’t currently the closest thing he has felt to pussy drunk he might have actually laughed at the offer “even on the boat?” In a drunk game of confessing things to the boy, you had let it slip that you had some fantasies about a guy fucking you on the family boat if you two took it for a night cruise. But of course it would only be someone who you liked enough to meet your brothers.

You nodded feeling his hand slide between your two sweaty bodies “anywhere you want.” You mumbled writhing your back against the sheet when his fingers came into contact with your clit “you like that don’t ya pretty girl?” Trevor teased feeling your cunt clench around him once more.

A whimper left your lips as he arched his back allowing his lips to latch onto your left nipple with his tongue swirling around the sensitive bead “please let me cum Z.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as he nodded “go make a mess on my cock.” His order came as he moved his attention to your other breast topping you over the edge when he locked his eyes with you.

It made you screw your eyes so tight that you swore you could see stars “fuck fuck fuck!” You chanted writhing your body against your sheet and him as he continued his actions of rubbing his fingers against your clit until your cunt began to clamp down on him in these random bursts trying to milk his cock.

As much as he enjoyed getting to fuck you raw he didn’t want to have to deal with the consequences as he pulled his cock out of your cunt letting his release spray across your lower stomach when his hand began to pump at his cock “god.” He let out a grunt watching the damage he had done like it was an art piece.

You looked up at him through hooded eyes as you smiled “it’s just me.” You mumbled making him laugh as he ran his fingers through your hair to push it out of your face “think I should get you in the shower before we get some dinner.” The smell of the chicken came back to you as you heard the smoke alarm go off “The chicken!”

#trevor zegras smut #trevor zegras imagine #trevor zegras x reader #hockey imagines #imagines #oneshots #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #nhl smut #hockey smut #amber writes fics #ambers 1000 celly

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luveline · 3 months

Note

Hopper requests? Say less…😂 How about something wholesome with El? Like Hopper was worried about El warming up to reader but he ends up having nothing to worry about?

I love your writing by the way!

thank you for your request! fem!reader, 1k

Hopper loves El like any father loves their daughter, any parent their child, which is to say, he loves her and he knows her flaws. She’s a great kid but she has her problems, just as he does.

She’s angry sometimes, and she can’t cope with things she doesn’t like, and honestly, she’s allowed to be mad at the world (or at least he thinks so), but again, he loves her. He has to teach her that she can’t always get what she wants, even when she deserves it.

He’s a little tough on her. He’s been a bad dad to her, sometimes, he knows that. He doesn’t deserve her, but he’ll keep trying.

He doesn’t deserve you, either, but he has you.

He’s not expecting you in his home, though. He’s barely mentioned you to El —he didn’t know how she’d react. It hasn’t been that long since her last outburst.

“What does that mean?” she asks.

Your shoes are by the door, he’d know your beaten up sneakers anywhere, and El’s talking to someone with their head turned away from the door. It’s dark, the only light from the TV and the weak orange kitchen lamp, but he can tell it’s you.

“What does what mean?” you ask.

He panics and relaxes, a paradox of behaviour as he closes the door softly behind him. His head races with thoughts of what El might do without a pep talk before meeting you even as his hands itch to be on you. He hasn’t seen you for a few days, which is a few too many in his book.

“Respect.”

“You and Hop must’ve talked about respect before.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Well, some people think respect is earned, and some people think you should have it anyways. I think it’s both, you know? It’s kindness and… politeness. You respect your dad by keeping your room clean, and saying thank you for dinner, and he respects you by saying thank you for keeping your room clean, and making you dinner. Though he should pretty much always be making you dinner. Does that make sense?”

He can’t not be soothed by you. The way you’re talking to her melts his heart.

“No,” El says succinctly.

Hopper holds in a laugh.

“Um… okay. So, I respect your dad–”

“Hop?”

“Yeah, baby,” you say gently. “Sorry. I respect Hop because he’s a good man. So I try to be good to him. He respects me for some reason,” —you notice him and give him a flirty, sweet, slightly nervous smile— “so he opens doors for me and tucks my chair in at the dinner table.”

“He puts my coat on the hook for me.”

You nod happily. “Right! That’s respect. And love, too.”

“You’re here?” Hopper asks.

El turns to him with a timid smile to match yours. “I let her in. She did the knock.”

“I didn’t realise it was secret,” you explain. “You do it sometimes, on the side of the car door. I couldn’t get you at the station, I thought you were home–”

“It’s okay.” He leans down to drop a kiss against your crown. “S’fine,” he says into your skin. “I can see you’re all introduced.” The secret knock isn’t even really in practice anymore.

“She’s your girlfriend?” El asks him.

Hopper doesn’t answer. Girlfriend feels odd sometimes when you’re older, because you’re a lot more than what the word might imply, but he likes the idea of it, too. “I wanted to introduce you on Friday. You know, the special dinner I mentioned?”

“Right. Why I need to clean my room,” El says, frowning.

“Exactly.” Hopper pats her back where she’s sat across from you.

“Now I don’t need to anymore?”

“No, you do,” Hopper says.

El frowns deeper. “Because I respect you.”

“Maybe one day.”

El’s only recently re-entered society. She’s stressing Hopper out, what with it being summer soon and her growing curiosity for the world, and he’s worried she won’t get along with people because she’s behind in terms of experience, but mostly he’s sick of arguing with her about leaving the bath water in and how much sugar she’s allowed each day.

He’d hoped to explain things to you in better detail. El’s a special case. She needs more patience than most kids (and maybe she doesn’t always get it). He didn’t doubt you’d be good to her, and it’s still a shock when you reach across the table to hold her hand and she doesn’t yank hers away.

“I can help, if you want. It gets overwhelming sometimes,” you say.

“How come you don’t help?” El asks Hopper.

“Because you don’t need help putting your clothes in the laundry, kid, you just don’t like doing it.”

“What Hop doesn’t understand is that we’re girls and we have better stuff to do,” you say, stroking the back of her hand with your thumb.

You have dinner together, and you watch a movie. Hopper can’t believe how well it goes, or how much El seems to like you. She sits between you and Hopper on the couch in demonstration of her lack of tact and he can tell you don’t care. He doesn’t care either. In a way, it’s nice to spoil El with affection she’s not used to having. Joyce is always, always kind to El when they see one another, but that’s not often. He hadn’t realised how badly El wanted some motherly attention, or how quick you are to give it.

He should’ve guessed. You’re nice to him, and he’s an idiot.

“I wish it was longer,” El whispers. Hopper looks over her head at you.

“Why?” you ask, pulling her hair in a circle around your finger. “It looks so pretty like this.” You ruffle her hair and tuck it behind her ear.

El shivers at the touch. “You think I'm pretty?”

“Doesn’t Hop tell you you’re beautiful?”

“No,” El says.

Hopper winces. You just smile and wrap an arm around her shoulders. She’s small enough for you to squeeze. “He doesn’t tell me much either, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t think it,” you whisper. “How could he not, huh? You’re beautiful.”

“You’re both real pretty,” he says with a sigh, spitting it out now to get it over with. “Notice how nobody tells me I’m pretty and I don’t complain?”

“You’re handsome,” you say, grabbing the top of his shoulder, and rubbing it kindly. You lift your chin for a kiss and he gives it without thinking.

“Oh, ew,” El says, ducking away from you both in disgust.

“It was a peck!” Hopper says.

“Gross.”

“Go make yourself some ice cream, kid.”

She hums happily and jumps up off of the couch. You laugh as he pulls you into the space she’s left behind, sighing as he hugs you tightly to his chest. “I think she likes me,” you say.

Hopper snorts. “You think?”

#jim hopper x y/n #jim hopper x reader #jim hopper #jim hopper imagine #jim hopper x you #jim hopper x fem!reader #dad!jim hopper #dad!jim hopper x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #jim hopper fanfiction #jim hopper fandom #jim hopper fanfic #jim hopper fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #jim hopper fluff

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cinnamonest · 4 months

Note

Lena thank you for the spanking bit, has to be one of fav kinks ever because it just... fits every single yan regardless of who they are??? Kinda like a "universal" thing, just top notch. Do you think we could ever get headcanons for it?

Thank you for this anon, you're absolutely correct it is a top-tier kink

Also I've been wanting to write more about god-era Morax so thank you for the opportunity to do so, I rambled way more about him than the others here sorry lol

As for those who fit the kink best imo I’m going with Childe, Diluc, Ayato and Morax

//major spanking kink material (obviously) but gets kinda bad in severity/intensity, also mentions of hair-pulling, biting, throat fucking, anal, two cocks for Morax again (as always 👌)

--------

Childe is probably the best one here to end up at the mercy of here for once, for the sake of your poor ass at least.

Not that it isn't still awful and painful — he’s a sadist at heart and just adores making you squeal and cry. What at least makes it comparatively at least bearable is that he tends to use his hand — although that does make it more personable, more humiliating.

He tells you, though, exactly what he intends to do. You're being such a little brat today… come over here…

He doesn't even seem angry, but rather excited. He's all smiley and cooing in a way that feels so utterly humiliating and degrading.

Oh, but please do run. Please, please make it so much more fun for him, run away and try to hide. There's virtually nothing in the world that turns him on as much as either a game of chasing you or hunting you down wherever you're hiding. The fact that you're that scared of getting your ass beaten is kind of cute, actually. Are you that sensitive to pain, or is it more protecting your pride that gives you so much resistance? Not that he's complaining or anything.

He'll even give you a very wide opportunity to run, make sure you have plenty of avenues to do so. His heart rate begins to go up seeing the look of realization in your eyes when you spot an opening to run off, and he'll give you a minute or two of a head start. It doesn't take him long to find you nonetheless, hauling you up over his shoulders and carrying you back to your room with obvious excitement, like a predator dragging squealing, still-living prey back to its den for its inevitable fate.

That being said, doing that will make it worse for you — at that point you probably do deserve a belt at least, you know? Regardless of the instrument of choice though, he keeps you bent over his knee — he can feel your squirming more that way, and he can grind his hard-on into your stomach as you thrash around and squeal. Each strike still lands on bare skin, but rather than having your lower half naked, he likes to sometimes move the hold on your back and grasp at the waistband of your panties instead, jerking them up to wedge between your cheeks, effectively holding you in place and baring your skin at the same time.

He's so mean about it, taunts you that same voice you hate so much—

Aw, are you actually crying? Maybe I'll stop if you beg for something else…

There's no set number or standard of how much you'll be punished for any particular offense, which can be more torturous than anything. At least if you were given a number, you'd know how much more you had to endure. Instead, you just lurch and squeal each time his hand or the leather comes down... you kick your legs and thrash about, to no avail. In fact, you're pretty sure it just makes him hornier, you feel his cock twitch and his breathing grow more ragged the louder you cry out, and his hand on your back forces you down harder.

He’s actually totally shameless about getting off to it, too, so you can’t use that against him.

God, you're so cute when you cry like that... squeal louder for me...

The only real upside is that it's usually abruptly cut off at some point once he's too aroused by it to continue, and needs to just bury himself into your holes. You get slid off his lap onto the couch or bed, barely getting any time to recover — still sniffling and whimpering— before being contorted to whatever position he wants and rammed into without warning… thus for once, him being perpetually horny and having virtually no self-control actually becomes a positive. It still doesn't help, though, that the sex makes his hips smack against your sore ass with each thrust, but crying out about that only makes him go harder.

You know it could be much much worse — he makes sure to remind you that he could easily keep going until you completely break down, but he's so nice and you should be grateful for that — but you're still sore, and it leaves a pinkish-reddish tint under your natural flesh tone — something he likes to point out to you later, groping at your ass and laughing when you jolt at the sting. Your nose wrinkled with your expression of disgust as you jerk your head away from him, and you mutter under your breath.

Bastard...

And then, you squeal and lurch forward as one more harsh smack lands on your backside. You try to ignore the chuckling that follows as your eyes well up with embarrassed tears, and you bury your face beneath the covers of the bed.

-------

Diluc’s punishments are awful in terms of pain, but thankfully they're over fairly quickly because it's largely an act of momentary fury and irritation, and once he gets that anger out of his system, the punishment will be over, too.

He's still very intimidating about it, and it doesn't help that it's always a sort of spontaneous thing he decides on in the heat of the moment — thus you see the exact moment you know you've crossed a line, but also know (or at least, quickly learn) that there's nothing you can say or do at that point that will get you out of being punished. His eyes narrow and his voice lowers and he tells you to get over here in a voice that makes you feel like your heart just stopped, and your stomach feels as if it twists into a knot when you see the confirmation of your dread when he takes his belt off.

Running is not advisable — it's not like you'll succeed, and you'll just make him more mad. He's rough with how he handles you, dragging you by your clothes and hair over to bed, counter, or the back of a couch, forcing your head down.

How bad any one particular spanking is varies a lot depending on how mad you've succeeded in making him. He's not merciful at all, so he hits with force based on the level of his frustration. Thus, your attitude is important — you can technically commit a lesser offense, but if you keep backtalking and being bratty and fighting it, you'll likely get a worse punishment than you would for a worse offense for which you were apologetic and submitted to punishment easily.

What does change with the severity of your offense is that if what you didn't isn't so bad, you can keep your clothes on, but for particularly egregious transgressions, even in spite of the heat of the moment, unfortunately, he doesn't forget to pull your clothes up or down and off to make sure you're bared first.

He virtually always uses a belt, much to your dismay, and prefers to bend you over various surfaces since he can strike harder that way. It’s painful, you always end up in tears quickly, begging and pleading and spilling apologies for whatever you did, but he never has any mercy on you.

Much like you can’t get out of it to begin with, there’s also nothing you can do that will make it end any sooner than he feels like it. Over and over, grumbling with each strike about how you’re such a brat, how you can’t just behave, how it’s your own fault, until your flesh is reddened and burning badly enough that even when it’s over, all you can do is slump forward and cry.

If he went really hard on you, he might feel a little bad afterwards, getting you a wet cloth to soothe the burn… but he’ll still remind you that you wouldn’t be lying there all shivering and sobbing if you just learned to behave yourself properly.

For him, it’s more of an actual punishment first and foremost and not really an intentionally erotic thing, at first he’s too mad to think much about the eroticism of it… but seeing you lying there sniffling with your butt so heavily marked and welting, admittedly he does quickly get hard… and he’ll get incredibly flustered and embarrassed if you accuse him of getting off to it.

But be careful — push him too much on that matter, and such antagonism might be grounds for a round two on your already-stinging ass.

-------

Ayato’s punishments are particularly unpleasant, but the thing is that if you're in that situation, you deliberately chose it. Because he's gracious enough that you get a lot of warnings before reaching that point.

If you're being bratty, temperamental, rude, or whatever other behavior he doesn't like, you get a certain look first. The standard half-lidded eyes, unpleased expression, the universal ‘stop that right now’ glare. Maybe a passive aggressive comment if he can slide one into conversation.

If that fails — in other words, if you keep being a brat regardless, deliberately ignoring his warnings — you then get a verbal warning. He'll address you directly if it's just the two of you, but gods forbid you’re digging your own grave by misbehaving in front of others, he waits for a moment where everyone else's attention is on something else before pulling you close in a faux gesture of affection (with a grip harsh enough to ensure you get the message but not enough to alert anyone else in the room to his quiet fury), lowering his voice, whispering directly into your ear.

We’re going to have a talk about your behavior when this is over. Do you understand?

You know by now what a "talk" actually means, and hearing the words makes you stiffen and swallow. Granted, by the time it reaches the point that you've been that bad, you won't escape without at least a few swats, but if you persist, you'll just make it much worse. All you can do is nod your head and wait in dreadful anticipation.

As soon as the company you had leaves, you try to slowly back away, looking for an opening to run, but he has you grabbed by your clothes or hair and is dragging you off before you can even try. The total silence on his end as he drags you over to your room only serves to amplify your dread, and thereby your little whimpering protests.

The primary thing that will make it that much worse is what he uses to punish you, because from the day he brought you home, he anticipated a need for discipline at some point, and thus had a whipping cane custom-made just for you. One of those thin wooden canes designed for no other purpose than infliction of pain and punishment, which he leaves sitting out in your bedroom at all times, making sure it's always within sight as a subtle threat, a reminder of his power over you and that your behaviors have consequences.

He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t get heated, yet somehow that makes it so much worse. He’s perfectly calm as he holds you down on his lap, a hand wrapped into and grasping your clothes on your back to ensure you’re not going anywhere with each sharp pain on your bare skin. He’s very disciplinarian about it, ensuring to emphasize the reason and intention of the punishment itself—

Remember that you had every option of avoiding this. This is only the consequence you deserve. Do you realize that?

You nod and whimper and try to apologize, but it doesn’t make each swat any lighter. He’s rather harsh about the severity too, the degree of pain, duration, number of swats and outright humiliation often feel disproportionate to what is in your opinion a mild offense, although you know better than to voice that thought.

You beg, sure, you cry and whimper and say you'll take any other punishment, but it goes in one ear and out the other, your words have no effect, and while his voice has that characteristic gentleness to it, he's still cold and firm in his reply, if he even gives you one.

You're not getting out of this. Hold still.

He does take care of you afterwards, so lovingly and gently it makes you angry. He reminds you again that it wouldn't have to happen if you behaved, that you have no one but yourself to blame, all while kissing your crying face, holding you close and gently massaging the newly formed welts.

He also likes to make you gauge how many lashes you deserve beforehand, often making the total number a certain multiple of how many times you mouthed off or did something against your rules. And of course, whenever there's a fixed number, he makes you count.

Listening to your voice grow more and more shaky and begin to crack, your speech becoming slurred with sobs and oh, how precious is the sudden panic in your voice when you realize you've lost count. The way you tense and start begging and whimpering when he replies—

I suppose we'll have to start over...

-------

Morax’s punishments are always by far the worst.

That's largely because there's a maddening element of psychological torment involved. It's slow, drawn out, the dread and anticipation are almost worse than the punishment itself. He actually employs a variety of corporeal punishments, each of which make your stomach churn just to think about, but unfortunately, putting you over his knee and beating your ass until there's a deep red hue to your skin is a personal favorite of his.

What makes his style of discipline so unbearable is that you’ll be punished for literally anything. There is no possible offense, no rule to be broken, that won’t earn corporeal punishment of some kind, most usually on your poor ass. You get a very clear set of rules, rules you’re expected to know and obey from day one. Countless little rules, so many of them meticulous and pointless. Things you must do, things you must not do, and rigid standards for your attitudes and behaviors.

Each and every violation is its own offense — not to mention, things like lying when asked about what you did, objecting to punishments, even talking back or trying to defend yourself when accused count as individual offenses too. Sometimes you don’t even realize you’ve broken a rule until he tells you you’re going to be punished for it, and any protest or whining counts as another offense.

Really, you’re lucky if you can go a few days in a row fully able to sit without any stinging pain, and it’s not uncommon for you to earn back-to-back punishments one day after another. You know for a fact that your record of days in a row without ending up laying in bed, whimpering and crying and clutching your backside in pain is a single digit number.

Sometimes, if it’s severe enough, you’ll get put over his knee right then and there, but he’ll also tally up the small offenses and, at the end of the day, punish you cumulatively for every small offense you’ve made, because he can’t allow even the slightest offense to go unpunished.

It’s not limited to things you do in his presence either, because he has ways of finding out everything you do.

Every day that you can't accompany him, he has an established routine for when he returns. Firstly, of course, you're supposed to greet him when he comes in (any attempts to be petulant by giving him silent treatment or hiding away will result in further punishments), but then, as he sits you down, holds you close, he asks you the same question.

Have you done anything you should not have today?

It's a torturous question.

On one hand, you could have very well been very well-behaved, in which case you can answer honestly with at least some confidence (although even then, part of you hesitates thinking maybe you committed some offense unintentionally).

But when you haven't been well-behaved and you know it — that's what's torturous.

It's a gamble. He asks every single day, so him asking itself is not a dead giveaway that he knows what you did. If he doesn't know — well, you might be able to lie and get away with it. Inversely, how unfortunate would it be if you told him, and it turned out he didn't know, and then you had to suffer when you could have gotten away with it?

On the flip side, if he does know — well, you'll soon be squealing like a stuck pig regardless, but things are much, much worse if you try to lie. You would know — you've taken that gamble a few times now and lost.

He seems to have ways of finding out everything — you only lied when you were absolutely confident, thinking there was no way anyone saw the thing you did, only for your stomach to lurch when you feel the soft stroking against your thigh stop, and are met with a low voice—

…Is that so?

And the tone, the way he says it, you immediately know you've messed up.

Of course, you could hypothetically keep denying it, but entrenching yourself further in a lie is, by that point, the worst decision you could make — you would know, you tried that once and you couldn't sit down normally for over a week. The best thing to do now is to confess… you won’t get any mercy or a lighter punishment, but you’ll avoid the additional punishment you’d get for doing anything else.

But even then, he can’t even give you the decency of forcing your body to bend and getting it over with. It has to be drawn out, torturing you to the greatest degree possible — sometimes, he does this by delaying it, telling you he has something else to do first, leaving you to sit around and wait in anticipation for an hour or more. If an offense is bad enough, one session might not even be enough, and you're told that you'll get another one tomorrow, adding to your dread.

But most of the time, the torment comes from forcing your own participation. He keeps you firmly in his lap, reaching down to grope at the flesh where your butt meets your thighs.

What do you think you deserve to have happen to you?

Another test, a question for which you’ll only receive something worse in addition to whatever will happen already if answered incorrectly. There’s only one right answer—

…Y-you should... punish me...

On the bright side, he’s genuinely pleased once you start learning well enough to know what the right answer is.

You’re stood up, guided over to the drawers, hands firmly on your shoulders to ensure you don’t get any ideas about running. You hate that one drawer, it makes your stomach churn just to look at. He has a damn collection for you— leather straps, whipping canes, paddles with holes in them just to hurt that much more. He tells you to pick one.

That, too, is a test— you know which ones hurt more. You're supposed to gauge what you deserve based on the severity of your offense, and he'll be that much more displeased if you go too lightly on yourself, and will consequently be more forceful, which you do not want. Eventually, you manage to make your choice, biting your lip, pointing with a shaky hand, tensing as his hand runs motions that would be soothing in any other context up and down your thigh, pausing to grasp at the fleshy part of your backside.

Then you're led back— sometimes to face the wall or bend over a counter, but most often he prefers to keep you over his lap. Not that you'll be forced down either— not unless you make that necessary, which of course, you do not want. Unless you want it to be that much worse, you follow the commands— pull your robes up, the waistband of any underwear down, bare your skin (always, no matter how mild the offense), lay down on your stomach, put your hands behind your back so he can grasp your wrists.

And even then, even then you have to be tormented further.

Now, what did you do to deserve this?

You recall to the best of your ability, hoping you didn't forget anything, lest you be accused of trying to be deceitful in hopes of escaping consequences, which will add another tally to the list.

It’s painful. It always is. You've reached a point where your resolve to not cry and squeal is defeated pretty early. You used to try your best not to for the sake of your pride, but you know by now that it will go on long enough that your tears and crying out are inevitable.

He manages to somehow be so stoic and calm and yet somehow so, so cruel about it.

Does it hurt?

Your shoulders quiver with little sobs, you go tense as he gropes and kneads at the raw flesh.

Y-yes, it hurts, it hurts so bad, please no more, please—

You cut off with a high-pitched cry as the stinging pain strikes again. And again. And again. It's always so much, so unfair compared to the weight of whatever you did. That slight pinkish undertone isn't quite satisfying enough either, he never stops until there's a deep, deep red tone to your flesh.

If you've been especially bad, you may have to count… but he actually tends to prefer not giving you a set number. You're more fearful that way, uncertain of how much more you have to endure.

You're certain he gets off on the pain for one thing, the sound of your cries and the way you jolt and squirm, but the humiliation is worse than the pain itself, for you. He knows that, revels in it. He's told you before—

You're such a prideful little thing… that will certainly need to be fixed.

Repetitive subjection to something so inherently humiliating and vulnerable, and being made to break down, any semblance of toughness and dignity being torn away at his hands, is a way of slowly breaking down your pride. You know that, it makes you so angry, but you can't help but let that vulnerability be exposed every time, to act in such a way that ensures he knows how badly it humiliates you.

Your go limp with exhaustion when it finally stops.

What have you learned?

You can barely speak, voice hoarse from the strain of your cries and speech muffled by sniffles and sobs.

I'm sorry… I won't do it again…

And then, he has the audacity to be so, so sweet to you. Looking down at your tear-streaked face, smiling— no, smirking, a belittling, amused expression— leaning down to kiss your forehead.

Poor thing.

Kneading at the sore flesh in spite of how the touch makes you wince. As if it isn't his fault, as if he had any mercy on you the whole time you were begging for it to stop.

It only makes you angrier. More than once now, you've earned a second round for how you reacted to his undeserved kindness. So ungrateful.

It's never a solitary punishment either, always coupled with something else, always something equally humiliating and discomforting, if not painful. You know he gets off to it, because the second punishment is almost always a direct sex act of some kind.

You'll take his cocks down your throat, grabbing your skull and fucking your face without any restraint, forcing you to swallow every last drop of seed, even forcing your head down to lick up whatever you spill off the floor. Your saliva just provides the lube to force you to bed and fuck you until you can't even stand, and all the while his hips bounce off your poor ass, each movement stinging against the sensitive flesh. He'll bite your flesh, unnaturally sharp teeth even piercing you skin, leaving you covered in marks. If he's feeling really, really mean, you don't even get the semblance of pleasure of it ramming into your poor sore, raw pussy— you'll take both cocks into your tight little ass instead, a stretch that makes you squeal and thrash and cry. Your legs kick and you lurch forward, desperate to pull yourself off, but you're jerked back with a growl as he slams into you, completely bottoming out. Eventually, you give in as the stretching pain ebbs away and trying to take whatever pleasure you can from the faint stimulation to spots of pleasure through the walls of flesh. But the act is utterly humiliating nonetheless, your hole left twitching and gaping for hours as cum leaks out and onto your skin. You can't even sit for days, both your poor asshole and backside sore and tender.

Your embarrassment and resentment builds. You loathe him for it, feel so humiliated and angry at yourself and how deeply you dread the punishments that it makes you nauseous.

And thus, in one particular incident, fed up and filled with spite, you made the greatest mistake of your entire time trapped with him— you decided to run, seeing that for once you had an opening to do so.

A stupid choice, really. You don't get far. Not even a full ten steps.

You know immediately that you have severely, sincerely fucked up. The sheer harshness with which you're grabbed, the back of your clothes grasped and twisted with unprecedented force, the draconic growl to his voice that makes your blood run cold.

Oh, dearest, you have no idea how badly you've just stepped out of line.

His other hand latches onto your throat.

You're going to be sleeping on your stomach for quite some time, won't you?

The statement alone makes tears well in your eyes, any bitter pride quickly crushed. You shake your head profusely, start begging for forgiveness, but you know in your heart that it's far too late for that… it still doesn't stop you from whimpering and apologizing as you're dragged back down the hall, no doubt to one of the worst punishments you've endured yet.

#man this was unholy levels of degen even by my content's standards #from what little i know i feel like the two new guys would also fit this so maybe ill add them later

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persevereforahappyending · 4 months

Text

Maybe in Another Life |2|

Pairing: Clarisse La Rue x Hunter of Artemis!Reader

Summary: You are a Hunter of Artemis, but you start to question what you truly want when you meet Clarisse and get to know her.

Warnings: Slight Titans Curse spoilers

Word Count: 4.2k+

Note: Clarisse is actually in this part.

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

ch. 1 | ch. 2 | ch. 3 | ch. 4 | ch. 5 | ch. 6 | ch. 7 | ch. 8 | ch. 9 | ch. 10 | ch. 11

You aimed your bow, releasing the arrow, you watched as it sailed through the air and imbedded itself into the center of the target. You notched another arrow, releasing it even quicker, it split the first arrow as it landed in the same exact spot. You repeated the processes, unblinking as you released arrow after arrow, each one split the next as they each landed right in the center of the target.

You relaxed your arm, letting your bow rest at your side as you let out an unsatisfied sigh. You hit your target perfectly every single time, not that that was a surprise. Camp Half-Blood didn’t have anything exciting when it came to targets it seemed, you were going to have to get creative or you were going to find yourself bored. You were sure Chiron wouldn’t mind if you enhanced his targets, he’d probably prefer it than risk you getting bored considering what happened last time you got bored at camp.

You glanced to the side where you could see some Ares girl yelling at her siblings. You smiled, shaking your head, Ares kids were all the same. The girl was aggressively giving orders on sparring, she stood in front of them, spear in hand as the others stood with their hands folded behind their backs. She pointed her spear at one of her siblings, who seemed to reluctantly step forward, gripping his sword tightly. The girl made her way to the other side of the sparring circle while the boy stood in front of her. They both stood with their weapons out waiting for the other to attack, when the girl suddenly lunged forward. The girl was relentless in her attacks, doing one after another, the boy dodged each of them before the girl finally got the upper hand. She sent the boy to the ground, stepping over him, ignoring how he was sprawled out, to yell at her other siblings some more. You gave an impressed nod; the boy hadn’t even got a hit in before he was beaten.

You noticed some Apollo kids joining you at the archery range. You only spared them a glance before grabbing another arrow, twirling it between your fingers. You quickly notched the arrow, shifting your hand slightly right before you released it, sending it not into the target you had been using but into one of the ones further away, going through one of the Apollo kids arrows and imbedding it into a target of another, right before their arrow could make it.

You smirked, not needing to turn around to know both Apollo kids were glaring at you. Artemis and Apollo were twins, meaning you and your sisters had an almost sibling-like rivalry with Apollo’s kids. Apollo kids were the best archers at camp, unless the Hunters were there, they didn’t stand a chance against you and your sisters. You were always one of the first to start something between the Apollo kids, or anyone really, you couldn’t help it, playing games was what you were good at.

“What the hell was that?” one of the Apollo boys asked.

“What?” you asked innocently.

“That!” he gestured to the target where your arrow was lodged comfortably in the bullseye, the kids arrow you had gone through still impaled on yours.

You just smiled and gave the boy a shrug, “Felt like the target deserved to know what it was like when someone got a bullseye.”

The Apollo boy scoffed. “You think you’re better than us?”

“Yes,” you said like it was obvious, Apollo kids were really dense sometimes.

“Prove it.”

Now that was music to your ears. “Is that a challenge?” you perked up, smirking at the boy, he had no idea what game he was playing.

The Apollo kid you still didn’t bother learning the name of was eating his words. They came up with challenge after challenge, hitting various size targets, the smaller the target got the further the distance. The game had been going on for so long that you guys had drawn a small crowd, it was mostly campers, watching in shock as a child of Apollo was outdone in archery, there were a few Hunters, smirking as they knew just how good with a bow you were.

“Are you ready to accept defeat yet?” you sighed, twirling an arrow between your fingers as you awaited the kid to take his shot. It was boring, being so much better than others when they refused to see it and took too long to give up.

The Apollo kid only grumbled before letting his arrow fly, hitting the cloth he was supposed to before it landed in the target further away. He turned, smirking at you.

“You missed,” you said with an eyeroll.

“I hit the bullseye!” his voice went higher, pointing where they arrow was imbedded in the target with the hand still holding the bow.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s not the center,” you scoffed. The apollo boy did hit the bullseye, he was just a tiny bit off being dead center, therefore he missed, in your opinion.

You barked out laugh at the fuming Apollo kid. You glanced to the side, seeing the Ares kids were done training, some of them had made their way down the hill and were watching your competition. Still in the sparring area though was the Ares girl who had been barking orders and kicking everyone’s ass, she was talking to another girl, the girl was a bit shorter, very pretty and had long black hair. The girl was playing with her camp necklaces as she nodded along to whatever the Ares girl was saying.

You smirked, looking back at the Apollo kid you raised your bow. You saw him scrunch his eyebrow as you pointed it not at the target but in a different direction, right at the two girls. You released the arrow, letting it sail through the air, you heard yelp, a few seconds later an angry yell. The Apollo kids mouth dropped wide open, you didn’t lose your smirk as you turned, seeing the two girls now looking in your direction, the Ares girl looked shocked yet the slightest bit impressed, the other girl still had her hand up where she had originally held her necklace between her fingers. Looking further past the girls you could see your arrow in the wood post of the cabin Dionysus lived in, the girls necklace hanging around your arrow and a can of diet coke stuck between the tip and the post. Dionysus was still standing there, watching as his diet coke continued to drip onto the porch, he shot a glare back at you, yelling a few obscenities about Hunters and children before storming off back inside.

Without another word you started to make your way up the hill. You jogged up to Dionysus’s cabin, slipping the perfectly intact necklace off before ripping the arrow out of the post, letting the can crumble to the floor. You looked back to the sparring arena for the girls, but they were gone, you furrowed your brow, intending to do a quick search to give the girl her necklace back.

“That had to be luck,” someone said, making you stop dead in your tracks. “Divine intervention, something! Artemis had to guide that arrow.” You tilted your head, your eyes darkening as you prepared to send an arrow into whoever dared questioned your skill.

“Percy,” a girl mumbled.

Your head snapped back, seeing the boy, Percy Jackson, walking with Thalia. “No, one could make that shot! Not even a child of Apollo! She had to have help!”

“What did you just say?” you asked, your voice dangerous as you tilted your head at the boy. You slowly approach him, a Hunter stalking her prey.

“I-I-I-I-” Percy stumbled over his words, his eyes widening as if not having realized you were there.

“Nonono, what did you say?” you clicked your tongue, daring him to say it again. “What did you say?” you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Ignore him,” Thalia cut in, ripping Percy back by the collar of his shirt to push him behind her. “He’s an idiot.”

“Hey!” Percy protested.

“He doesn’t know better,” Thalia said calmly, trying to appease you. “We were just coming to inform everyone about capture the flag.” You finally flicked your eyes to Thalia. “Hunters vs campers, you know, it’s tradition,” she gave you an uncomfortable smile.

“Guess you better watch out,” you said, shifting your glare back at Percy. “Hope no accidents happen.”

Percy’s mouth moved up and down, but no words came out. “Campers aren’t allowed to hurt each other,” he finally said.

“I’m not a camper.”

Percy’s mouth hung open, there was no evidence of the boy who had been willing to throw himself over a cliff for his friend just the night before. “Y/N!” Zoe shouted, causing you to instantly back off. Your posture instantly relaxed at Zoe’s unspoken command; the hostility never left your eyes though.

“We’ll be going now,” Thalia said, pushing Percy back.

Percy stumbled backwards and right into another person behind him. “Sor-” his words died when he looked up to see who he had bumped into, the Ares girl from before, her arms crossed as she glared at him, wrinkling her nose as he quickly backed away. The girl she had been talking to a few steps behind her, smiling kindly at all of you despite the tense situation.

“Let’s go,” Thalia said, grabbing Percy by the arm, violently pulling him away. “Why do you insist on making enemies with people who could kill you?” you heard her mumble as she dragged him away.

You glared at them until they were out of sight. “Hello,” a soft voice said. You turned, smiling lightly at the girl whose necklace you had borrowed to prove a point.

“Hi,” you said shyly. “Sorry about your necklace,” you handed the necklace out to her.

“Thanks,” she took it, quickly slipping it back over her head. “That was an amazing shot.”

You smirked, giving her a little shrug. “It’s kind of what I do.”

“I’m Silena, daughter of Aphrodite,” she introduced herself.

You couldn’t help but hum, being Aphrodite’s kid made perfect sense. “Y/N,” you introduced yourself, shaking her hand. “Hunter of Artemis, obviously.”

“Let’s go,” the Ares girl said. “We need to get ready for capture the flag so we can kick some Hunter ass.” You lightly scoffed, not bothering to look at her yet. Children of Ares were always so arrogant, you were more than happy to humble them a bit this game.

“This is Clarisse,” Selina looked back at the Ares girl. “Daughter of Ares.”

You and Clarisse looked at each other, making eye contact for the first time. Clarisse didn’t offer you her hand and you didn’t offer her yours. She still had a bit of a sneer on her face, but you figured that was probably just how she was, just as you didn’t stop smirking at her.

“Well, it was nice meeting you,” Selina said. Selina had a knowing smile on her face as she looked between you and Clarisse, you couldn’t help but furrow your brow, not knowing what she was thinking.

“Let’s go!” Zoe shouted again.

You glanced back at Clarisse, holding eye contact with her before quickly turning on your heel and making your way to Zoe. “We need to get ready,” Zoe said as soon as you were by her side. She didn’t wait for you as she began making her way to cabin eight, knowing you’d follow.

“It’s capture the flag,” you sighed. “It’s not like they stand a chance.” You looked around the camp as you walked with Zoe, seeing more demigods up and running around, preparing for the upcoming game.

“Artemis ordered us to behave,” she ignored your comment.

“I haven’t done anything.” Zoe whipped around, making you come to a stop as she stood on the steps of the cabin, looking down at you. You took a step back, raising your hands. “It was just a game.” You might have loved messing with Zoe, but you knew your place.

“Your definition of a game is different than most.” You smiled, silently laughing to yourself, it was true, you tended to make things more interesting. You quickly cleared your throat when Zoe was glaring at you. “No killing or maiming in capture the flag.” She seemed annoyed at having to say it, clearly wishing she didn’t have to follow Dionysus’s or Chiron’s rules either, Camp Half-Blood just took the fun out of everything.

You rolled your eyes with a huff. Zoe tilted her head, raising an eyebrow. “Okay,” you sighed.

Zoe narrowed her eyes, silently debating whether to believe you or not before rolling her eyes and stomping into the cabin. You grumbled before following her and made way for your bunk. You had come to the cabin, tossed your bag on your bed, and then quickly left for the archery range.

The one thing you liked about camp was the cabin, but it was Artemis’s design. It was a rather simple looking cabin, a lot of natural light during the day and at night had a silver moonlit glow about it. Inside was a typical hunting cabin, there was a space for your various weapons, all the furniture was made out of wood. In the back of the cabin was a stone fireplace, various stuffed animal heads hanging across the walls. Each bunk had bundles of fur blankets, the softest, warmest blankets you had ever touched in your thousand years of existence.

You joined your sisters in getting ready for capture the flag, it would be all of you vs all of them. The camp had a few more members on their side, even with it being the off season and most campers being back home with their families, only the year around campers sticking around. None of you minded though, you knew it didn’t matter how many campers there were, the Hunters would still win.

When you were done getting ready, you turned to see everyone dressed the same, you were all wearing grey camo cargo pants, grey camo jackets, despite their light weight, the insides were lined with fur, and grey combat boots. All Hunters had different variations of the outfit, these were the ones used during cold and wintery conditions. Even if the surroundings didn’t match the outfits they seemed to work, none of you needed to be completely invisible to hunt, you could be out in the open and still hunt your prey without being seen.

The conch blew, signaling for everyone to gather for the game. You finished strapping your hidden blade around your forearm, quickly slipped a knife in your boot, and grabbed your bow. You stood on Zoe’s right as she led all of you out of the cabin and to the area where capture the flag would be taking place.

“How’d your conversation go?” you whispered so only Zoe could hear.

You glanced at her as she neglected to answer, only offering up a dissatisfied huff. You nodded, letting out your own sigh. You knew what she had gone to do the moment she stepped foot in camp, she wanted to help your goddess, like you did, like all the Hunters did. You knew she could take care of herself; Artemis was fine without any of you, but you couldn’t get rid of the uneasiness that settled deep within you. Until you and your sisters got permission to leave, you were all stuck at camp, not knowing what was happening to your goddess.

You got into position, tuning Chiron out as he went over the rules. Your eyes glanced over the campers, seeing them all decked out in their battle armor, a mix of red and blue. Usually, the game was played red vs blue but considering the Hunters had their own outfits, the campers got to wear their armor. There was one time Chiron tried to suggest the Hunters wear the armor and both Hunters and campers went off, neither red or blue team wanted to swap sides to the other color, even against the Hunters, and none of the Hunters wanted to wear the armor. Hunters wearing their own thing and campers wearing their armor was the one thing all of you actually agreed on.

You smirked as you saw Clarisse at the forefront of the group, letting out a war cry, her fellow teammates following. Your eyes grazed over the team until they landed on Thalia and Percy. You tilted your head, staring at Percy until his eyes finally met your glare, he swallowed nervously as he tried offering a smile, you were going to show him just how lucky he was.

“Good luck!” he shouted, shifting on his feet as he smiled awkwardly.

“Luck is for losers,” you said. “I always win.”

Percy’s face was full of concern as he subconsciously took a step back. “Why did that sound like a threat to my life?” he chuckled, his smile faltering when you didn’t return it. “Seriously, why did that sound like she’s going to kill me?” He looked at Thalia who just rolled her eyes.

The conch sounded again, and everyone took off, running to hide their respective flags. You got into position, knowing exactly where Zoe was going to have some of the other Hunters place the flag, not worrying about it as you knew they had it covered, you didn’t even worry about how the new addition, Bianca, was one of the ones set to guard it. Your flag wasn’t important, you had your own mission, win, and take Percy Jackson down.

You moved effortlessly through the woods as if you hunted in them every day and not once every few years. You kept your moves deliberate, not making a sound as you walked across leaves, avoiding every broken branch without looking. Your eyes flicked from side to side, shaking your head as you saw campers trample through the woods, making more noise than a charging bear, they all passed you without so much a glance. Occasionally the yelps of campers filled the air as your sisters took them down one by one.

You smirked as you caught sight of Percy, walking back and forth as he stood guard, the flag not to far behind him. Percy had his sword strapped to his side, kicking rocks as he ignored his surroundings. You hopped up on a branch of a tree, drawing your bow, not losing your smirk as you released your arrow. Your arrow silently sailed through the air, opening up as it released a net, wrapping up Percy and strapping him to a nearby tree.

You hopped down from your branch, collapsing your bow, as you twirled an arrow in your hand as you strolled towards the flag. You rolled your eyes as Percy struggled, trying to turn his head to see who had got him, he yelled for help from his comrades, but it wouldn’t matter if any of them showed up, in your eyes you had already won.

“Cute,” a gruff voice said. You turned to see Clarisse stepping out from the bushes.

You smiled at seeing her, your eyes lighting up at seeing her spin around the spear in her hands. The spear was an extension of her, that much you could tell, she waved it around as if it was a part of her own body. She brought the bottom of the spear down hard, making the tip crackle with red electricity.

“Cute toy,” you snarked.

“I won’t be as easy to take down,” she said, gripping her spear tighter.

“Well, I’d hope not.”

She lunged at you, aiming her red-hot spear right at your shoulder. You side stepped, watching as the spear glided right past you. You couldn’t help but chuckle, slipping the arrow back into your quiver, you weren’t going to bother using your bow for this anyway.

She pulled her spear back harshly, spinning around as she slashed at your other side. You once again sidestepped out of the way, ducking as she quickly swung it for your neck. You smiled; she didn’t seem to mind a little maiming either.

You continued to toy with her, letting her slash and stab at you, ducking, and dodging each hit. You didn’t bother pulling out any weapons, you were having way to much fun. When you caught movement out of the side of your eye you couldn’t help but smirk, though you were disappointed your fun was coming to an end.

When Clarisse stabbed at you again, this time when you stepped out of the way you reached out, grabbing the spear. You ducked, getting on the other side of the spear, smiling at Clarisse’s furrowed brow. You yanked the spear forward with one hand, pulling her along with it before forcefully pushing back, making her lose her footing, releasing her grip as she crashed to the ground. You twirled the spear in your hand, enjoying weight and balance before pointing it at Clarisse’s neck, making sure she didn’t move from the ground.

You smiled as she glared up at you. There was no doubt in your mind that she was a daughter of Ares, from the fire in her glare it was clear she was truly her father’s daughter. You lifted your head up, watching as Zoe plucked the flag from its position before darting past you. You clicked your tongue, nearly grazing the girl’s chin as the daughter of Ares began to push off the ground.

You heard movement to your side, seeing Percy had finally escaped the net. He didn’t even look back at you and Clarisse before taking off after Zoe. You tossed Clarisse her spear, knowing the game was already over, despite still being on the ground she caught it with one hand, still glaring up at you.

“Don’t take it personally love, winnings kind of my thing,” you winked at her before pulling out your bow again, you tilted your head, lining up your shot before releasing your arrow. The arrow flew through the air, once again opening up, this time a wire released, wrapping around Percy’s feet, which quickly sent him tumbling down the hill.

You chuckled before taking off towards where you knew the Hunters would be celebrating. You heard the conch go off, signaling that the Hunters had in fact won, for the fifty-sixth time in a row. As you left her lying on the ground you could swear you heard the Ares girl quietly laughing after you tripped Percy.

You joined your sisters in celebration, watching as they waved the flag around at the pouting campers. Percy made his way out of the woods, pulling off the rest of the cord wrapped around his ankles. He flung it off to the side, looking up only to be met with your glare. He looked from the cord he tossed to the side then back to you, slowly connecting the dots. Clarisse came trudging out of the woods, walking right up to Percy, giving him a hard shove with her shoulder, causing him to stumble.

“You didn’t say she was a freaking daughter of Nike Jackson!” Clarisse snapped, delivering a hard smack to the back of Percy’s head.

“You’re a demigod?” Percy asked dumbly, rubbing the back of his head.

You rolled your eyes nodding your head. “And your mother is Nike, like the goddess of victory?” you nodded again, this kid was really slow, if he was the child of the prophecy then Olympus really was doomed.

“I love her shoes.” You and Clarisse both groan, rolling your eyes before glaring at the boy. His eyes darted back and forth between you and Clarisse before he slowly began to back away.

The celebration quickly died down, everyone turned to the woods. You furrowed your brow following the others gaze, seeing a shriveled up old lady who should have died centuries ago, slowly making her way down the hillside. You all held your breath, waiting until she was right in front of everyone.

“I am the spirit of Delphi. Speaker of the prophies of Phoebus Apollo, slayer of the mighty Python,” She spoke, looking at Zoe. “Approach, Seeker, and ask.”

You sucked in a breath; this was the oracle. Zoe hadn’t gotten answers when she went to visit her when you all first arrived at camp, but it seemed as though you’d get answers now. “What must I do to help my goddess?” Zoe asked.

Your breath caught in your throat as the oracle showed a vision. The image of Artemis on her knees and chained to rocks, shined across the sky. You felt a presence come up behind you, you didn’t need to look to know it was the Ares girl. You couldn’t peel your eyes away from seeing your goddess shackled and suffering.

“Five shall go west to the goddess in chains,” the oracle continued to speak. “One shall be lost in the land without rain, The bane of Olympus shows the trail, Campers and Hunters combined prevail, The Titan’s curse must one withstand, And one shall perish by a parent’s hand.”

When the prophecy ended the oracle collapsed, once again going into her catatonic-like state. When the prophecy was over the vision had dissipated, but you couldn’t remove the image of your goddess from your mind. You didn’t know what had happened or where Artemis was, but you were prepared to go to the ends of the earth to help your goddess.

#clarisse la rue #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse la rue x you #clarisse x reader #pjo #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #maybe in another life

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animehideout · 4 months

Note

Hello!! can you do gojo x dumb but kind reader?

like reader could be playing a game and someone starts bragging to her about how they won and she just like "Oh okay well I think you were really good! you deserve it:D"

Like she can making anyone who was insulting her feel bad in seconds

and gojo sometimes calls u dumb or makes joke that you don't understand so you think he's serious or calling you dumb so you start crying and he has to make it up to you (^o^)

Please and thank you lots of fluff as well!!!

Gojo Satoru X Dumb but Kind Fem! Reader

a/n: thanks anon for this request, and sorry for the late update 🫶🏻

ps: I'm working on all the requests, sorry for taking too long to post all of them, but there are a lot of requests + working on Wattpad so thank you for your understanding

It became a weekly routine for you to gather in the Jujutsu high school common room, playing games together to unwind and have some fun, aiming to relieve stress of the missions. Occasionally, students from Kyoto high schools joined in for friendly competitions.

Gojo, was always there, he has always enjoyed the competitive spirit during these sessions.

The air was full of laughter and cracking jokes every now and then. You were quietly playing by yourself in a corner, minding your own business. But, your peace had to be interrupted by none other than Mai. She's always eager to tease and make fun of you without any apparent reason. She enjoyed showing off, knowing you wouldn't fight back. You're just too kind for this world.

She approached you and everyone in the room knew what she's about to say, a smirk revealing her intentions.

"Watcha doing, Y/n? Oh, you're still there. I don't think you made any progress. You see, I already won that game—all the levels."

Her aim was clear: to make you feel weak, dumb and like a loser. However, you excelled at turning insults into lessons in kindness. Without missing a beat, you paused your game, flashed a smile, and responded,

"Oh, wonderful! You did well Mai; you deserve it."

It's Mai we're talking about, so she wouldn't feel bad, but rather embarrassed. She continually attempted to bring you down, but always faces your kindness every time. Not only her, but others often underestimated your abilities, often teasing you about it and calling you names.

Perhaps because it takes you a bit longer than others to understand something, but that's completely normal. People are just mean.

"Hey, why don't you compete with her?" suggested one of them.

"Whaaat?. She'd probably get her ass beaten in less than 3 seconds," exclaimed Mai's best friend.

"I think Mai is a formidable opponent; she's brilliant," you responded with a friendly smile, shifting your focus back to your game.

They exchanged glances, attempting to provoke you, but couldn't. Your kindness often shields you, either because you don't fully grasp their intentions to bully you or because you don't take them or their words too seriously. After all, why let someone your age calling you dumb make you feel sad?

However, this is not the case with Gojo Satoru.

You take him way too seriously, hanging on to each word as if it were truth. You know it's his nature to be playful and teasing, but his occasional jokes have a different impact on you. Despite this, you've never dared to confront him. Instead, you've worn a fake smile, blinking away tears. But today was different; it became your breaking point.

Finally, Mai left you alone, granting you some peace to play without disturbance. While others were busy competing and laughing, you didn't notice Gojo standing right behind you. A small mistake slipped into your gameplay, one that could have been easily avoided, but you couldn't help it.

"That was a dumb move, Y/n!" Gojo exclaimed, startling you.

"Huh?"

"That mistake could have been easily avoided, but you had to be dumb as usual" he added, rolling his eyes.

A lump formed in your throat, tears threatening to fall.

"I-I was just—" you stuttered.

"You've gotta practice if you want to be like your friends. I'm not only talking about this game but real life too" he added.

Unable to respond, your eyes remained fixed on the game in front of you. They were red from holding back tears, and you didn't want him to see.

Gojo then stood in the center of the common room and said,

"Hey, guys, listen to this joke. Why did that kind girl try to tell a joke about time travel?" He started , and when they asked why, he said, "Because she thought it was about fixing all her past misunderstandings. Turns out she couldn't grasp the punchline in any timeline."

The room erupted in laughter.

"That was a good one" said one of the students.

You stood there feeling out of place, realizing the joke was about you from the way everyone laughed and pointed.

Overwhelmed, you excused yourself from the crowded room, seeking comfort in the garden. The weight on your chest felt unbearable, and tears were threatening to fall. Gojo, sensed your distress when you left the room, mentally cursed himself, his joke might have gone far. So he decided to follow you.

He found you on the stairs, tears streaming down your face as you gazed at the trees.Concerned, he approached,

"Hey Y/n, are you okay?"

It was time to confront him. Keeping your focus on the trees, your voice cracked as you spoke,

"Why do you always do that? Make fun of me in front of everyone? Is it fair to call me dumb for the slightest mistakes?" Frustration overflowed.

Gojo's playful side vanished, replaced by sincerity and seriousness,

"I never meant to hurt you. I'm sorry if it seemed that way. I didn't realize it was affecting you like this."

Wiping away your tears, you replied,

"Giving no reaction and faking a smile doesn't mean it doesn't affect me. I'm just good at hiding it."

He felt really bad, realizing that he took it too far this time and that his jokes and teasing had been making you sad all the time.

"Why do you even do it?" you asked again.

"I thought it was all good and fun, just like with everyone else. I was trying to lighten the mood. I didn't know it bothered you that much. Sorry about that, princess. I'll make it up to you."

"Nah you don't have to" you resisted,

but he insisted,

"No, I want to." Standing up, he exclaimed, pulling you close.

With his thumbs, he wiped your tears and tucked your hair behind your ears, whispering,

"Let me fix it. I'm sorry for making you feel that way. You're a kind soul. Would you give me a chance?"

You're too kind to turn him down so you nodded.

"come on show me that precious smile of yours here you go princess oh I love that sweet smile I'll make sure it never leaves your face"

To say the least, he made you feel significantly better. His comforting gestures were genuine and sincere. you could feel him pulling you into a warm, big hug.

You're precious to him, and teasing is his way of expressing love.

"You're too good for this world Y/n!!"

He realized that sometimes words even in jest, could cut deeper than intended. He promised to be more careful, acknowledging that people might not see through good intentions, since people can't read minds.

So it's always better to speak something positive or remain silent.

if anyone treats you with disrespect, make sure to defend yourselves pookies. Never let anyone calls you dumb or underestimates you. You're too precious, you're unique, don't let people bring you down! speak up and defend yourselves 🫶🏻💪🏻

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spacebarbarianweird · 4 months

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Hello Dear! I usually just read and fangirl on your HCs and series hihi but I was just gonna try if you can do a one shot of this prompt "One night, he tells you that these last six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery" I CRIEEED TT^TT when I got it on the epilogue and I just wanna get some fluff and angst around 👉👈 G/N Tav would be nice 🙏

I already did this with my OC Tav Tiriel in the fic The Rogue and the Barbarian but I will gladly write something else based on this prompt!

Aftershocks

Synopsis: One night, he tells you that these last six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery.

Tags: fluff

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Headcanons

Astarion is in the dungeons.

It’s dark and damp, and he notices the chains nailed to the wall.

His body is sore as if he was beaten. He sits up and grabs a fistful of his own hair causing himself pain.

Of course, it was all a dream. The freedom, those four months of having the tadpole enabling him to walk in the sunlight. The six months after, in the shadows, but free.

You were a dream, too. It never happened. He is his master’s kennels, beaten and tortured and soon he will have to go on a hunt to bring another unfortunate soul to its demise.

Astarion rarely dreams but his elven mind is so broken he has acquired the ability to see surrealistic and very real things during his sleep. It’s even worse than remembering horrors because imagination knows no limits.

His skin will be flayed again and again. He will undress in front of strangers and will do things he doesn’t want to.

The tears burn his skin as the dark waters drown his mind in misery.

“Astarion! Are you alright?”

The voice is so unreal Astarion can’t believe he hears it.

You approach and kneel beside him. Then, you carefully take his hands from his face to make eye contact. “A nightmare?”

Astarion stares at you as if he was unable to believe you are real.

But you are.

It wasn't a dream. He really did walk in the sun for four months. He killed his master. He set himself free. And all those six months he walked on the roads of the Sword Coast, hand in hand with you.

Astarion digs his nails into his scalp as the feelings overwhelm him. He doesn’t know how to deal with it. Sorrow, anger. How did they dare to take his life from him? How did they dare to make him a slave, to lock him in the kennels? Why? Why did it happen to him? What did he do to deserve it?

But there are other feelings. Happiness, hope, joy.

He is free, after all. He had the gift of sunwalking for four months. He met you and he isn’t alone anymore. Your warmth soothes him and so does your blood. You are everything and more. Something he almost lost because of his blindness and inability to trust.

Your tender hands are stroking his back.

“I am a mess, ain’t I?” he cracks a smile.

“We all are sometimes,” you tug Astarion closer and cradle him in your arms.

He lies like that, his head pressed against your chest as you play with his curls and lull him like a child.

Now he remembers.

These dungeons are part of a long-abandoned castle. It was just safe to stay there without worrying about the sun. They just happen to be similar to the kennels Astarion used to belong to.

A mere year ago he was a slave. He would never believe it was possible to acquire all those things.

Freedom. A person to love. The whole world.

You are here to kiss away his tears and nightmares. He can drink as much blood as he needs, feeding on animals and his occasional enemies. You share your blood, too, and it helps with anxieties. When you sleep together you cuddle under a thick blanket skin to skin, and Astarion feels safe and protected.

Loved.

Fingers caress his left cheek.

“Oh, I’ve just noticed,” you giggle.

“What is it, my love?”

“You don’t have dark circles under your eyes anymore. And they aren’t that puffy! You used to look like a person who didn't sleep well.”

“I-I didn’t know you looked like that”

“You did look rather sickly when we met. Still beautiful, though, don’t worry.”

Astarion finally manages to relax. Gods, he thinks he's a wordsmith! He can't formulate a simple sentence that he's been wanting to say to you for a week.

“Love”

“Hm, what is it?”

“These last six months of happy memories are the counterweight to two hundred years of misery”

You smile and he can’t take his eyes off your face.

“I love you, Astarion,” you tug him closer. “You are the best thing that could have happened to me.”

Tag list

@tugoslovenka @marcynomercy @wintersire @vixstarria @not-so-lost-after-all @ashiro20 @theearthsfinalconfession @herstxrgirl @starlight-ipomoea @micropoe10 @astarion-imagine-archive @veillsar @elora-the-slutty-songstress @fayeriess @lumienyx @tallymonster @caitlincat-95 @tragedybunny @valeprati @lynnlovesthestars @marina-and-the-memes @waking-electric @ayselluna @connorsui @asterordinary @darkarchangel96 @locallegume

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion romance #baldurs gate 3 #astarion x tav #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion drabble #astarion short fic #spacebarbarian fics #astarion fluff #astarion comfort #baldur's gate post game

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stripetkattelalala54-gf · 4 days

Text

So this post by @auroraknux about Mario angst and the people describing what they all made Mario go through kinda inspired me to make a list about all the canon things (in the different media) he’s been through (and also because I think that some of the things deserve to be talked about more):

Mario has lost quite some companions (be it through death or other reasons. And yeah some came back but I think that doesn’t make the impact any less):

And it clearly affects him. I wonder sometimes if he refused to travel with people for a while because of how many times it happened.

Had to watch his loved ones getting possessed or brain washed:

Got bean fever and almost turned into a bean:

Maybe not as angsty as other stuff on this list but being sick like that can’t be fun.

Has been tossed around a lot especially in Odysseus:

Got captured by King Boo three times:

And it seems that especially the first time, he did not have a good time at all.

Got his body stolen:

Bowser’s fury:

This goes more a bit into headcanon territory but knowing you could die at any second without much warning must be pretty stressful.

Got exploded off the rainbow road and then got eaten by an eel:

Got nearly beaten to death by Bowser:

Had to watch an entire galaxy die and then the rebirth of it. And again he had to watch a companion sacrifice himself:

This is probably one of the most screwed up things Mario had ever to witness.

#There is probably other stuff I have missed but this is all I can think of at the moment #smb #mario #super mario bros

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sergeant-angels-trashcan · 3 months

Text

Thinking about disabled AK!Jason tonite with a disabled s/o

Let's be fr this man could/should be an ambulatory wheelchair user but he won't because he doesn't know that's a thing and wouldn't think he deserved it. If you're an ambulatory wheelchair user maybe one day you manage to lovingly bully him into just TRYING it and it is life changing

He uses his ambulatory energy to do Red Hood shit nbd

if he doesn't use a wheelchair he's got at least 2 braces--shoulder and knee

Baby has chronic pain, arthritis, chronic migraines from being beaten

Missing some teeth too

take this boy to your neuro or your ortho!!!! he is totally unaware he does not need to live like this. better living through chemistry

let's get him some therapy too

you WILL have to go to his drs appointments with him. mans WILL freak the fuck out for ANY medical procedure, has very serious medical abuse trauma. if he can see how your drs help you he is much more likely to go if he can see that you are benefiting from your providers and that they haven't harmed you

if you're scared of drs he will FULLY stand behind you. probably not that healthy tbh but he gets it

having a special Migraine Protocol for each of you (it's basically just a snack and a drink, blue light filter glasses, a sleep mask with headphones for that special Migraine Playlist)

make your own pain scales and talk through frequency of pain bc when you have constant or near constant pain it fucks up your ability to quantify it so making your own pain scale is helpful (he probably uses shakespeare plays or authors. like a 5 for jason is twilight, because you can see some problems but it's fun and fluffy but when you start looking closer OH NO SO MANY PROBLEMS)

pain meters on a wall near the kitchen so you can know what you're working with

CBD patches

the AK suit is basically a giant brace/mobility aid so you help him figure out how to adapt it for his red hood persona, how to make it lighter and allow for greater ROM

will remind you to do physical therapy

resistance bands ALL OVER THE HOUSE

learning bodywork techniques

AT LEAST once a week using a special oil or lotion to work into some of his bigger scars to make the tissue more mobile

giving him a back/neck/scalp/face massage

after a while obvi that's a lot of trust he's putting in you

NOT deep tissue. don't hurt him more. you can have effective therapeutic massage without hurting a person

trager work involves basically shaking a limb and letting the weight of the muscle do all the work but it feels weird the first time and he'd just start laughing at you

specially if you do his glutes

but it feels really nice so he stops laughing and it does help his lower body pain

putting magnesium lotion on each other's neck and shoulders

start to ask each other "are you angry or in pain?"

hand massages

teaching him to stop pushing through the pain

one of his knees is basically bone on bone so you always know when the weather is changing

if u both have bad knees u just don't even when the weather is changing. take some pain meds, use your topical pain reliever of choice, prop those joints up and snuggle in bed. watch a youtube series or he can read to you

heated blankets as heating pads supremacy

occasionally he'll be in pain and the kind of pain where you feel like you're going insane, so as a distraction he will go online and buy a bunch of weird pain-relieving gadgets and you'll spend a week trying them out

(sometimes his pain fog shopping spree is blind boxes, or nail polish, or statement shirts)

all of his siblings know to come to your place if they get beat tf up because your medicine cabinet is UNreal

you're about to give cass or steph a Controlled Substance Pain Reliever and you pause "this is technically drug dealing, isn't it? dOn'T teLL rEd hOOD" jason is literally patching them up right next to you

soft blankets

reminding each other it's ok to take it slow

he's constantly tearing into the other rogues for not having ADA accessible lairs (except Ivy who successfully argued that the plants make it ADA accessible which will do. FOR NOW.)

#jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #ak!jason todd #reader insert #x reader #jason todd x reader #ak!jason x reader #my stuff #chronic migraine #dc brainrot #invisible disability #chronic pain #disability #seriously low back trager work has no business being as effective as it is #i miss doing massage :(

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bloatedandalone04 · 6 months

Text

Against All Odds - Part 2

➪the one where bradley pushes away his pride and finally admits to himself what he already knew, that you are his number one priority.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, mentions of injuries, descriptions of injuries, arguments, break ups, bradley is a major dick in this

Word Count: 3.8k | Part 1

Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Bradley had to blink away the sleep in his eyes as he quickly sat up, his phone nearly falling from his hand as he brought it up to his ear. “Baby,” he said desperately as he called you back.

It rang and rang until he was beginning to think he had completely blown it, then the call connected. He was met with silence, but you had actually picked up, so he knew you could hear him.

“Y/n,” he hesitantly said, his heart beating loudly in his ears as he heard your quiet inhale.

“Bradley?” Your sweet voice called his name, and Bradley felt his eyes sting a bit as he sat up and planted his feet onto the carpet to ensure he was stable and not dreaming this.

“Babygirl,” he rasped, his body full of adrenaline even though he had just woken up. His face was as sore as anything else and his body ached, but he was talking to you for the first time in months. The only thing that would make it better would be if you were actually here with him. “Fuck, I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

He heard you sniff quietly on the other end, and he knew you were beginning to cry. His heart ached to be with you right now and his fingers were begging to be able to wipe away your pretty tears.

You didn’t say anything and he was desperate to hear your voice again and get you talking to him. “Y/n,” he called softly. “Talk to me, baby, please.”

He hears you sniff again before you mumble. “I don’t know what to say,”

“Anything,” he answered instantly. “Say anything, please. Yell at me, call me a selfish asshole, tell me that you hate me. Just don’t hang up.”

“I don’t hate you, Bradley,” you tell him quietly, making his heart race as you confess that he was wrong in thinking you’ve spent the last couple months despising him. “And you’re not a selfish asshole.”

He could’ve cried at that if he wasn’t too focused on trying to figure out what to say next that will keep you talking to him. “I’m so sorry,” he said again, his voice hoarse and his face aching. “I’ll keep saying I’m sorry for the rest of my life. I need you, Y/n.”

“Bradley,” you trail off, your tone quiet and your breathing uneven. “It’s been months.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “Trust me, I know. I haven’t stopped thinking about you since…since I broke up with you. That has been the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my entire life. I can’t believe I talked to you like that. Fuck, you deserve so much better.”

You were quiet for a bit and he began to think he had run out of time with you, but then you spoke softly, “I’m sorry about last night. I watched a bit of it, but I couldn’t bring myself to see the end. I guess you lost, huh?”

Fuck, he almost wish you got to see him get his ass handed to him. It’s the least you deserved, to watch the guy who broke your heart get his face beaten in. “I’m glad you didn’t,” he admitted. Then he clued in to what you said and a small smile formed on his lips as he asked, “You still watch the matches?”

“Sometimes,”

Bradley wasn’t sure whether or not he should feel relieved or guilty. He leaned back on the couch and draped his free arm over his sore abs as he sat in silence for a few seconds. He wanted you back, more than anything else in the world. He knew now what he should’ve known before, and that is that he’d do anything for you.

You wanted him to give up his career? He will. He’d get an office job if it meant he got to have you back in his life.

You wanted to have a house together? He’ll get the papers ready that confirms it within a few days.

You wanted him to take you and your relationship seriously? You’ll be his number one priority for the rest of his life, like you should have been since the very beginning.

“Baby,” he nearly whimpered. “I miss you so much. Every fucking day.”

He dreaded your next words, unsure if he should even be telling you that he missed you right now, but he was never good at keeping his thoughts to himself. That was one of the things that caused you to leave him, and that really fucking hurt to think about.

Thankfully, you saved him from hurting even more by whispering, “I miss you, too,”

He knew he was going too fast, but he couldn’t help it. He needed to see you, face to face. He needed to tell you how sorry he is in person. “Y/n,” he begged. “Come over, babygirl. Please.”

“Bradley, what the fuck were you thinking?” You nearly yell as you carry more than half his body weight while you guide him into the house. “He could’ve killed you. Why do you insist on getting so damn cocky every time you’re in that stupid ring?”

“Enough, baby,” he muttered as he pulled away from you and limped his way into the living room. Truthfully, he probably needed your help right now in order to fix up the wounds he received, but not if it meant you were going to baby him like you were his mother. “It’s fine.”

Of course you weren’t going to let him off easy. You never did and it was usually something he appreciated, but he was really fucking annoyed right now and just wanted to end the day with you in bed, but you looked as energized as ever. “It’s fine? It’s fine? Bradley, it’s not fine!”

He huffed and sat down on the couch, lifting his sore hand and massaging his knuckles. “Fuck off,” he said under his breath, not at all saying it to you but about his current situation. He just wanted to sleep off the events of the night, and you weren’t letting up.

Maybe he should have been clearer about that, though. “Fuck off? Seriously, Bradley?”

He held back an eye roll as he leaned back against the couch. “I wasn’t saying it to you, come on, baby,”

You glared at him. “Who were you saying it to then? ‘Cause if you haven’t realized, I’m the only one here. I’m always the only one here. It’s me who has to clean you up whenever you get the shit beaten out of you, and it’s me who has to haul you all the way home since you won’t let anyone else touch you,”

Bradley did roll his eyes this time. “Sue me for only wanting my girlfriend to take care of me,” he grunted, pressing his thumb harshly against his bruised knuckles. “You do realize that’s what you are right? You’re my girlfriend, not my fucking mom, so can we please drop this and go to bed?”

You laughed. “Why? So you can just forget about it? You do this every time, Bradley and I’m getting pretty fucking tired of it,”

“Oh, cry me a river, Y/n,” he huffed as you stepped towards him. “You knew what you were getting into when you said yes to going out with me five fucking years ago. Why is it such a problem now?”

You cross your arms, your gaze softening a bit. You hated arguing with Bradley, and while you didn’t do it all the time, it was something that had been happening quite often as of lately. “It’s always been a problem, Bradley. You know I hate seeing you get hurt,”

Bradley looked up at you and his hard gaze, too, faded a bit. “It’s part of my job, babygirl. You know that,” he reminded you and tried to keep the irritation out of his voice. “You said you supported me.”

“I do,” you say, a bit offended as you stand in front of him. “But I don’t support the guy you become when you think things are too easy for you. Why do you instigate things with the guys you fight? You always end up eating your words when they put you back in your place. It’s like you go out of your way to put on a good show or something, and I’m the one who’s left to look after you when it’s over. It’s hard on me, baby. I hate seeing you get hurt and you seem to get a kick out of it.”

Bradley pressed his palm flat against his bruised face as he tried to think of a rational way to respond to you. He did not want to be talking about this right now, and you showed no signs of giving him the fucking break he was craving. He knew you were just worried about him and he loved you for it, so he was trying hard to not go off on you since you really didn’t deserve it, but it was taking a lot out of him to keep calm. He felt like he was being interrogated, and he felt like he needed to remind you once again that you are his partner, not his parent.

“It’s my job,” he said again, this time not doing much to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I’m supposed to entertain people.”

“Not by going out of your way and ensuring you walk away with a beaten up face, Bradley,” you counter, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself. “That’s not entertaining, it’s scary. You don’t care what happens to you as long as you get what you want out of it, and it’s scary. You scare me sometimes, Bradley.”

While on a normal night your words would’ve had him straightening up his act a bit and apologizing, the events leading up to this moment have him feeling more pissed off than understanding.

Things were going well for him a few hours ago, and he just started his sixth round with Banks Harper when you tried giving him a pep talk that felt more like a lecture. Your scolds were all he could think about as he threw his first punch, then he spewed out some dumb line about how his mother could fight better than Banks, and then he was getting the shit beaten out of him.

It wasn’t your fault he lost tonight, but he was far too stubborn to think that it was his own right now. “I scare you?” He asked with a humorless laugh, and by the look of surprise on your face he knew that wasn’t the response you were expecting from him. He pushed himself up so he was towering over you, using his height and build in ways he used against his opponents, not while he was with his sweet girlfriend. “Why the fuck are you with me then? Huh? Why the fuck are you here?”

You stare up at him with hurt evident in your eyes. “I’m here because I love you, Bradley,” you weakly answer. “Because I don’t believe in throwing away five years just because you don’t know how or when to stop.”

Bradley could see how much his harsh words were affecting you, but he was fired up now and you weren’t offering him the escape from it all like you usually did. You were adding to his frustrations instead of helping him get rid of them. “So you don’t believe in me. Is that what you’re saying?”

“No!” You yell and drop your arms to your sides. “That’s not what I’m saying at all! You’re putting words in my mouth. I’ve been your biggest supporter ever since we started dating and I still support you now, I-”

“Still? You still support me now?” He asked as he stepped closer to you. Your eyes were pleading with him now and if he had half a mind he’d shut up and whisk you away to bed so he could apologize to you while holding you in his arms. But he was running off of the small amount of adrenaline he had left in him, and it was making his brain feel a bit fuzzy. “Then fucking act like it. Maybe, I don’t know, don’t question me on everything little fucking thing I do. If I want to talk shit to the guys I fight then I will. You don’t get to fucking control me or what I do when I give you everything you could ever need. I provide you with everything, the least you could do is act a little grateful, not jump on me as soon as we get home. Just…get off my back, alright? Fuck.”

You cower away from him a bit as tears sting your eyes. You were glaring at him now and trying to fight off the way your lip was quivering, but you were feeling hurt at this point and he still wasn’t seeing it from your perspective. “I’m not trying to control you, Bradley, I…” you trail off, looking down at the floor as the first of many tears begin to fall. “I can’t believe you actually said that to me.”

Bradley rolled his eyes and walked past you, the adrenaline doing a fine job at keeping his body upright and taking away the pain he will be feeling later. “What? Can’t believe what? That I won’t let you walk all over me? You can say all this bullshit about me but then get mad when I throw it back at you,” he muttered. “Real original, baby.”

“Bradley,” you gasped as you turned to him and tugged on his arm. “What the hell. All I wanted was for you to see things how I see them, that’s all. Maybe if you did then-”

“Oh, my fucking- you’re still going on about that? Enough, Y/n,” he raised his voice in a tone he never used with you before. You step away from him, putting some much needed distance between the two of you. “I swear, sometimes you’re so damn unbearable, I’m surprised I haven’t pulled out all my fucking hair. Take the fucking hint and leave me the fuck alone, okay? I don’t want to talk to you right now. At all.”

And maybe the two of you would’ve been fine if you had just left it at that. Maybe you both would have slept it off, made up the following morning.

But then you wiped at your eyes as you tried to find the courage to de-escalate things. “I just-”

And he reached his breaking point and turned back around to face you. “Jesus Christ, when will you learn to shut up? Seriously, shut up,” he yelled. “I’m so fucking sick of talking about this. We could have avoided all of this if you hadn’t decided to act like my mother as soon as we walked through the fucking door. I can’t deal with this right now. I can’t deal with you. Fuck, just go. Leave. I don’t want you here anymore, not if you’re going to treat me like a fucking child.”

Your eyes widened a bit, your mouth parting in a silent plea. Surely he didn’t mean that, right?

Wrong. “I mean it, Y/n,” he rasped as he turned back around and headed towards the bedroom. The same one he had shared with you, officially, for three months. Unofficially for five years. “Get the fuck out.”

Bradley wished he had let Nat take better care of him last night. Maybe she could’ve helped prevent his face from looking this fucking bad. Without proper care for them, the bruises worsened overnight and his left eye was half closed because of the darkened skin around it.

He looked terrible, but still he found himself feeling happy because you would be here soon.

You were coming here, to him.

He could look as bad as he wanted, it still wouldn’t dampen the mood he is in at the fact that he would finally get to see you again after spending so long without you.

Though, he was sure you would hate his current appearance. You never did like seeing him like this, and he wished he won last night and didn’t let himself get knocked around so much if he knew there was a chance he could get you back the next day.

His heart skipped multiple beats at that.

He was a few minutes away from possibly getting you back, from being the one who receives all your love and affection like he had been for five years. He’d be damned if he fucked this up.

Minutes that feel like hours pass before he hears quiet knocking on the door, and Bradley had to take a second to compose himself before he embarrassed himself by rambling as soon as he saw you.

He made it to the door in three strides and took less than a second to open it.

For the first time in months Bradley felt like his world was falling back into place. His heart leaped in his bruised chest and his arms begged the rest of him to take you into them.

He longed for the sweet scent of vanilla you always seemed to emit, and he was desperate to know if you still fit perfectly against him. He knew you did, but he wanted to prove it to the few doubts that ran around in his head.

“Baby,” he rasped, his voice rough and breathless as he took you in.

You hadn’t changed at all, not really. You effortlessly made the grey sweatpants and black tee you wore look like the most beautiful outfit he had ever seen you in, and he knew if he looked close enough he might be able to tell if your hair had grown out a bit or not, but he was mainly focusing on your achingly pretty face.

“Bradley,” you said back, equally as quiet.

Then he was taking one step towards you and you were meeting him way more than half way by jumping into his arms. Your legs wrap around his waist as his hands instinctively grab onto the undersides of your thighs, and you fit perfectly against him.

The impact of your body crashing against his had him holding back a grunt as his chest was still extremely sore, but he needed this. He needed you, and he was fucking kidding himself when he tried to think otherwise.

“I’m so sorry,” he mumbled, burying his face in the space between your neck and shoulder. Not being able to stop himself, he kissed the skin there multiple times as he felt his eyes sting with unshed tears. “So fucking sorry. I can’t believe I said all that shit to you.”

He pulled away in order to make eye contact with you, finding your eyes in a similar state as his.

“I was out of my fucking mind, babygirl,” he murmured, brushing his nose against yours as he spoke the words you’ve been wanting to hear for weeks now. “Completely out of my mind. You’re everything to me, baby, you always have been. Always will be.”

No more words were said after that as you both gave each other a look of consent before Bradley was closing the distance between you completely and kissing you deeply. Your hands slide up and tangle in his hair, tugging on it in the way that still drove him crazy.

Your lips mesh together like no time at all has passed. One of his own hands reached up and gripped the side of your face gently, his fingers curling around your jaw and angling your head a bit as the kiss progressed.

“I missed you,” you confessed when you pulled away for air, your eyes softening at the bruises around his eyes and on his nose. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there. You’re right, I should’ve been, I-”

Bradley shook his head quickly, effectively cutting you off with the simple movement. “No, I wasn’t,” he corrected you. “I was wrong about everything. About all of it. I’m just a big fucking idiot. I can’t believe I said all that to you. I was mad and embarrassed and you were just trying to help me. God, you’re so perfect, babygirl. You’re too good for me, I don’t deserve you and I never did. I know that, but I love you. So fucking much. There’s no one else for me except you.”

Your fingers gently trace the edges of his wounds, your slightly wet lips quivering a bit as you took in both his words and appearance.

He sounded as broken as he looked, and the sight had your heart aching in your chest painfully. “Bradley,” you whisper, closing your eyes and kissing his forehead as your tears begin to steadily fall. “You really don’t see yourself in the way I see you, huh?”

Your breathless laugh has a smile forming on his lips as he shakes his head again and pulls you close to him once more. “I’m an idiot,”

“You’re everything,” you say and wrap your arms tightly around his shoulders. “I want you to be happy, and if you weren’t happy with me then that was okay. I didn’t want to hold you back, I still don’t want to hold you back. If you still want me, I promise, I will be your number one supporter forever. I’ll get over everything and be on your team again. I’ll be in your corner whenever you’re in that ring, I swear.”

Bradley let out a laugh mixed with a cry. “I still want you, baby,” he promised, holding your body close to his. “I’ll always want you. Always. You make me happy. I was the one who ruined everything, not you. This is all on me.”

You pull back, grinning at the way his arms reluctantly loosened around you. “I love you,”

He leans in and kisses you, pulling your chest completely against his as he stepped back into his house and kicked the door closed. “I love you,” he said back, kissing you again as he stumbled his way into the living room. “I love you so much.”

He repeated it as he settled on the couch above you, wrapped up in your arms now.

“Take me back,” he begged, kissing along your neck as your hands trailed through his hair. “Please, take me back. Stay here with me, please.”

You take his face in your hands and press a soft but firm kiss to his mouth, soothing the sting of his bruises with the pads of your thumbs. “Always,” you promised, and Bradley knew there was a lot more you and he needed to talk about, but he was okay with just being with you like this until that time came.

@itsmytimetoodream

@khaylin27

@broosterradley

@haydenshousewife

#bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster top gun #rooster fanfic #rooster x reader #top gun rooster #top gun maverick #top gun au #tgm fic #tgm #angst #bradley bradshaw angst

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writertothemaximum · 4 days

Note

Yuuji with a tall (pushing it at 198cm) scary transfer student from America who's kind of a punk but he's sweet sometimes (mainly only to yuuji) perchance?🧐(N/sfw)

ヤンキー・Yankee

Yuuji x tall delinquent male reader

content // Reader comes from a strict American family, canon-typical violence, reader is a juju tech transfer student, reader is a bit depressed, Reader is smitten™️, (yuuji is too), very wholesome, pre-relationship

note // This ended up being a bit long, so it’s just sfw for now! Let me know if you’d like a part 2 :)

-When your family moved to Tokyo for “business” related reasons, nothing could have prepared you for the culture shock. The language was one thing, but there were all these social customs that were just implied. No one said anything bluntly to your face, even if they did speak comprehensible English, which a lot of people did. Was it because you were an outsider? Was it because you were American?

-Maybe because of this, you found the life of delinquency easy. Maybe it was because you were 6’6” and no one was going to fuck with a dude twice their height, because nothing meant a quick trip to the hospital like getting into a fight with you.

-But people did. And you busted their faces in. It’s what they deserved. One time you broke your fist on someone’s nose. It was worth it. You got suspended and grounded by your parents, but so what? You never provoked people, they just came at you, and it was within your right to defend yourself. Isolation wasn’t caused by ostracization, it was caused by defense, and in your opinion, there was a lot to be defended.

-One day, your parents told you that you were getting transferred to a select school a little bit outside the city. A strange man (who was surprisingly close to your height) came by the house, offered to fist-fight you, and for the first time in your life, you got your ass whipped.

-It was a this point that you realized that the “imaginary friends” you had been seeing since childhood were called “curses,” and that maybe there was a place in the world for your violence. It had just been an outlet, maybe now you had a purpose.

-Very quickly, you realized that Jujutsu Tech also wasn’t home. A part of you wondered if anywhere in Japan could be. Before you were even given your own dorm room, you were sent with another student for a “trial run.” He didn’t talk to you much, and it took two hours into the thing before you even learned his name. It was like your parents had sent you to military school, and in a sense, they did.

-That was until you met Yuuji.

-Yuuji wasn’t like the other students. In many ways, he was like you. To no surprise, many of the students at Jujutsu Tech were also former delinquents, Megumi included—But Yuuji was different. He had blood on his hands, but there was no way you could tell. From the moment you met, he actively talked to you, tried to get to know you, treated you with respect, that’s just how he treated everyone, that was Itadori Yuuji.

-It’s not like no one had ever given you the kindness of humanity before, but Yuuji was different. Why wasn’t he afraid of you? Why wasn’t he intimidated? Maybe he was and he just never let it on, maybe it was because he’d beaten up kids just like you when he was in middle school, you didn’t really know. But it wasn’t just that. He was sweet he was funny he was kind. You were a friend, just like anyone else.

-Yuuji liked watching foreign films, and would invite you to go watch them in the city if any theaters had showings (and since it was Tokyo, they almost always did). After the movie, the two of you’d walk around and discuss what you liked, what you didn’t. One time, Yuuji asked about your home. He asked if you missed it, and a part of you did. A lot of you did. You didn’t talk to your friends anymore since everything had changed. Would they even believe you, anyways? Fighting monsters, living in what felt like another world?

-Yuuji understood you, he always did. That’s what’s so charming about him, is that he can feel what you’re feeling. At that time, he gave you a hug, and told you that he can’t send you home, but he can do his best to make Tokyo your new one. Maybe there’d be a piece of home here, maybe you could find a quiet spot, surrounded by the greenery of your youth, and the two of you could sit and chat while the memories flooded in.

-That was the first time you had cried since you moved abroad, and you vowed to make it your last. Somehow, Itadori Yuuji had weaved into your heart, and you weren’t about to give him up anytime soon.

#yuuji x you #yuuji x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #itadori x reader #male reader #w2tmhcs

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five-rivers · 1 month

Text

rings of power

@nephmoreau

Metal clattered against stone and servos strained as the boy in the enchanted armor struggled to force Pariah Dark into the Sarcophagus of Forever Sleep. The sounds of the battle outside the keep were faint, but present. Every so often, the cry of someone who could not die being fatally wounded rose up above the din.

The boy pushed again, harder, and the spikes of the Crown of Fire struck the edge of the Sarcophagus.

That was all the excuse it needed to topple from Pariah’s head.

There were things it could do and things it could not do. Bound to an object, constrained by ancient law and contract, its actions had to be plausible. Plausible, not necessarily likely. It had had enough of Pariah Dark, and it had no desire to be locked in the Sarcophagus with him again.

It might be an immortal entity bound in an inanimate object, and therefore not terribly susceptible to the various ills related to the passage of time, such as boredom, etcetera, but it still had standards. Pariah Dark may have controlled it and the Ring of Range the past several centuries, but getting beaten by a teenager that had no idea what he was doing, and demonstrating such a loss of authority, well… Did someone not able to control a teenager really deserve to wear a crown?

The Crown of Fire didn’t think so.

Now, it wasn’t fond of the idea of leaving the Ring of Rage behind, but there wasn’t much the crown could do. The ring was firmly on Pariah Dark’s finger. There wasn’t much wiggle room there, literally or figuratively.

But the crown could hurry their reunion along, one way or another. They always got back together.

It rolled away from the continuing struggle, ringing. Its tines chimed against the floor, and the flames singed the stones. Strictly speaking, it should not have rolled. It could float. But, again, plausibility. It wanted to be noticed, so it called out with the only voice it really had.

The Sarcophagus slammed closed, the boy practically sagging against it, but there was no key. The crown watched with interest. If the boy was successful, well, it was free of Pariah. If he failed, at least it was with the ring.

Then, Plasmius, the one who had freed them, flew into the keep, bearing the Skeleton Key. The crown wouldn’t call the key a friend, but it was an old acquaintance, and they acknowledged each other in the only way they could.

Plasmius inserted the key into the keyhole and turned it, locking Pariah Dark and the Ring of Rage away. At least, until the crown convinced someone strong enough to open the Sarcophagus and properly defeat Pariah.

That would take some time, though, if Plasmius was an example of what was on offer. THe boy might be better, but, no, it could smell weakness on him. The armor, as cleverly enchanted as it was, fed on him and his strength. He would not be nearly as strong without it, and with it, well…

The boy collapsed.

There. That was exactly what the crown was talking about.

Plasmius pulled the boy from the armor, checking him for a pulse of all things. Nonsense. The crown stopped rolling and fell with a clatter.

Plasmius looked up, eyes falling directly on the crown, as planned. He split a duplicate off himself, then another, and another, until one was holding the boy, one was holding the crown, and the others were lifting up the armor.

But that armor… hmm.

It had been a while, a long, long while, since it had moved.

Item spirits, like the crown of fire, were far more akin to hermit crabs than anything else among the living. They grew very slowly, but sometimes… sometimes, they got a little crowded in their shells. So to speak.

As Plasmius gathered himself together to fly to wherever he called home, the spirit of the crown slowly, slowly pulled itself free. Invisibly, it stretched feelers out to the armor and sunk in, testing it.

Oh, yes, this would do nicely.

It only half paid attention as Fright Knight approached and Plasmius held up the crown’s old body like some kind of trophy. Fright Knight’s flames rippled in the ghostly version of a sigh. Well, he could keep his exasperation to himself. The crown could do what it wanted. It didn’t need a babysitter.

The crown was having fun being a suit of armor. Of course, being a crown, it wouldn’t stay a suit of armor for long, but it would be fun while it lasted. Running around with the ghost boy’s human sister was exciting. More than it’d had in ages. The fake fighting wasn’t really it’s style, but, well.

The sister wasn’t Pariah Dark, and, really, what more could it ask for?

But then the ghost boy was taking his sister, and setting off a self destruct, which, truly, was ridiculous. Why would anyone put that in something they were going to wear?

The crown tried to stop it, of course. It should have been able to stop it. But modern enchantments were so strange to it, so unfamiliar. It still didn’t understand how they worked.

So, instead, it reached out, searching for anything it could slip into, no matter how small…

… and it found something, many microscopic somethings, swimming through the girl’s blood.

Nanites, they had been called. Tiny enchanted things, small enough to hide dozens in a drop of blood. They were enough to hold the crown. They had to be.

It made the jump. Then, it paced restlessly back and forth in its new home. Better this than being blown up, but still. How tight. How unpleasant.

It would make it work.

Jazz put her hand to her head as Danny flew her away from Vlad’s stupid football-themed death arena.

“Are you okay?” he asked. “Vlad mentioned something about nanobots or nanites or something?”

“I’m fine,” she said. “Just a headache. You didn’t mention how loud that thing was.”

“Loud?”

“Yeah, like something was squealing the whole time.” She shook her head. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” asked Danny.

“I’m sure,” said Jazz, smiling. She rubbed the base of her ring finger. It felt like… something… something should be there.

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

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