#it makes sense to be a person and my existence does not have to be in constant agreement with those around me
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And at every table / I'll save you a seat
(Gaz × Reader)
[+18 | Adult Content MDNI]
Tags: fluff, smut, family issue, friends to lovers, slow burn, [A bit of warning] tradition view on virginity and marriage, piv sex
Words: 9.8k
It all started with a little request
"Will you take my virginity?"
He's taken aback by the ask, but he quickly regains his composure.
"No." He replied.
You look at him for a while, before you mutter out, "I understand."
"Wait," He grabs your hand before you could turn around, "Let's talk about it."
He observes the hesitation rising from your face when you look away, "I don't think you'd understand."
"You haven't tried yet." He smiles gently, "Try me, (Name)."
"... It's a long story."
"I got time for it." He told you, "Tea?"
With that, he invites you into his place.
You're silent when he offers you a seat, and he lets you sit with your thoughts as he works on the drink. It's not your first visit to his apartment, since you've been here quite often. But you never came with a somber mood, and he didn't know what to say to cheer you up.
He hands you the cup, before he pours the tea from the pot. He hears you murmur something, and though he doesn't quite catch it, he can roughly guess it.
"So," He began as he sat down across the table, "Would you mind telling me why you suddenly wanna lose it?"
You had blown the steam away from the cup, before you took a sip. He watches you take your time with the drink, until you're ready to talk.
"I know that I said I'm keeping myself until marriage, but I don’t think it's possible now." You bit your lip, as you fidgeted with the handle of your cup, "Because I'm going to be wed to someone I didn't know."
He raises his brows at your statement, "That practice still exists today?"
"Yes, it still does." You begin to explain the outline of the story. "My family came from a community that still holds an orthodox belief. My parents aren't conservative, but they can't escape the tradition either. When they told me about the engagement, I begged them to call it off, yet they asked me to go with it. But I don't want that. I don't want to be trapped in a loveless marriage." Your eyes shift as you hold back tears, "I know that they love me, if they don't, I won't be here. Away from home."
You quickly wipe your cheek before you continue, "The man who'll be my husband is highly respected in the community, but he's at the same age as my mother. I don't know why he asked for my hand, we barely talked. But for the last few months, he began to send me gifts. It's customary for a suitor to give the girl presents as a way of courting. Anyway, I won't bore you with the details."
He waits for you to gather your thoughts, before you start again.
"To be a bride, it's common for a girl to go through a ceremony, to see if the girl is suitable for marriage. I have to fulfill all of certain criteria to be recognized as a proper fiancée." You snort when you mention it, "Ky, you're a smart person, you must've known what that means."
He crosses his arms when you subtly ask him to make the conclusion. "If you fail the virginity test, then you're ineligible to be a bride."
"There are other factors that can annul the engagement, but yes, purity is the most important aspect for the bride to have." You stated, "If I fail that test, then I can be free from the custom."
"Won't you be shamed for… not being pure?" He carefully asked.
"Yes, but It's better than the other option."
You went quiet after the confession, as if you've retreated back to your shell.
He gazes at you long and closely, while a sense of familiarity comes to rest on him. The way you carry yourself reminds him of the old you—who couldn't look him in the eyes when you both were strangers.
"Say," He begins, as he rubs his face, "If I were to help you, what then?"
"Nothing, we can pretend it never happened."
"You know it's not possible, right?" He frowned, "We can't go back like we used to, at least I can't see it that way."
"I know, but I don’t have a lot of choices." You replied with a sigh, "I can never sleep with a stranger, and I can't do it myself either." You told him, "I have to lose it somehow, but I don’t know how. And the reason I asked you this because you seem to have a lot of experience, so—"
You stop when he presses his hand against his lips. While it's impossible to tell if he blushes or not, you swear you see a red tint on his cheeks.
"You're not…?"
He scratches his neck, as he coyly replies, "My ma raised me well, (Name). Of course I'd save myself before marriage."
"Oh—" You cover your mouth in shock, "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have asked you—"
"It's alright." He smiles, "How much time you have left until the ceremony?"
"About a month." You answered.
"I'll help you then." He said with such ease, that it made you stare at him wide-eyed, "But let me take you to a date first."
"What," You gulped, "What do you—Why? I thought… you said no…?"
"I hate seeing you like this, and I don't want you to resort to one night stand." He told you, "Besides, you didn't force me into this."
"But I did make you sympathize with me." You shook your head, "That's why you changed your mind."
"I said no because I knew you're saving yourself for marriage."
"But you said that you did too."
"That makes us even then." He tilts his head, "I'll take yours, and you'll take mine."
You open your mouth to speak, but nothing comes out of it. Not because you're at loss for words, rather, you have too many questions in your head.
"You can decide how many dates we'll go before you decide if you want to do it." He reaches out to squeeze your hand, "How's that sound?"
Although you're still unsure at that time, you can't help but nod at the offer.
The first time he takes you on a date, it's on Sunday, 07:20 PM, at an independent cinema. He phoned you earlier, telling you that they're going to play an old romantic film.
"I thought you like mystery?"
"Yeah, but you wouldn't pick that on the first date." He grins, "Besides, the movie has Binoche in it."
By the time you arrive at the cinema, you spot him talking to another man by the ticket booth. He turns his head when he hears your call, before the other man leans to the side to see you.
"You're early." You told him.
"I could say the same to you." He said with a smile, "The movie's starting in 10, c'mere."
He extends his hand towards you, and you take it with a little bit of apprehension.
The man whistles when he drapes his arm around your shoulders, "I see ya bringing a date tonight."
"Yeah," He turned to you, "Ain't she pretty?"
His friend chuckles when your face turns red, "Can't argue with that."
"Well, we'll talk later. I'm gonna show her around for a bit." He gives the man a pat on his arm, "You still have that shrine of yours?"
"'Course!" He warmly retorted, "Wouldn't close it for ya."
He mutters something back to him, and the man gives him a thumb up. When the two of you part with him, you ask him about the shrine.
"It's just a room full of merchs." He explains, "He's a movie fanatic, so when he liked a film, he'd find any of the collectibles."
"Like graphic t-shirts?"
"More than that." He grins, "You'll see."
At the end of the hall, there's a door smaller than the theater one. He opens it for you, and guides you inside.
The room is roughly the size of a humble apartment, but it's filled with many posters and other things you have to see up close to know what they are. Your eyes scan the movie posters that are mounted on the wall, before you turn to a doll. It's a porcelain doll, adorned with old-fashioned clothes. You lift the little paper beneath it and begin to read.
"It's from 'Interview With The Vampire'." You hear him say, "It's one of the collections that he's proud of."
"I've seen that movie years ago." You murmured, while tracing the edge of the paper with your finger, "I didn't understand what the story was about, until I read the book."
"You read the novel?"
You nod, "I still read it from time to time. Oh, would you look at that." He turns his gaze towards the spot you point at, "Didn't we watch that movie together?"
"Mulholland Drive?" He rubs his chin, "Didn't you say you hate it?"
"Well, I did. But it's been stuck in my head since then." You turn on your heel and skim through the titles of the posters, "I see a lot of foreign movies but not french." You commented, "Isn't he a movie fanatic?"
"He is. Just not a hypocritical one." He replied, "He told me that many of the French directors are lecherous, and they like to put their fantasies into their movies. Guess what caused them to earn a good rating?"
"I don't know, affinity bias?"
"Precisely." He grins, "He likes a few French films though, like Plein Soleil, Amélie, Playtime,"
"Léon?" You smirk.
"He'd berate you if you ever mentioned that name in front of him."
You laugh at his playful warning, "I think I like him."
"Too bad, he already has a wife." He circles his arm around you, "Why don't I introduce you to someone else?"
You roll your eyes at him, as you're so used to hearing those words.
"Yeah, his name is Kyle Garrick, and he's currently single."
"Come on, you loved it the first time you heard it."
"Well, I did laugh at it, but it's getting old." You jest as you poke in his ribs, "Try something else, and maybe I'll fall for it."
And he gives you a response that gets you burst into a laughing fit. You shove him away as you retort back, ignoring the quiet tension that begins to hang in the air.
When the two of you enter the theater, he places his hand on your back as he guides you to your seat. Though it's just a small gesture, it sends a warm feeling to your stomach.
He settles down beside you, and his arm brushes against yours. The seats are quite broad compared to the commercial cinema, but still, there's not much space left between you and him. You try not to think about it too much, as you rest your hand on the same armrest as his.
The opening of the film with the scenery of a small town, before it shows the greetings between churchgoers and the neatly dressed gentleman. It then cuts to a standing crowd, who begins their worship with singing. You frown when you listen to the narrator, as she portrays the minds of the villagers as singular. As the hymn comes to an end, the parishioners bend down to sit on the pews, before the pastor climbs up to give a sermon. The colors of the scene contrasts with the next bit, as it cuts to two figures in the middle of the snow. The figures are covered with red hoods that they hold tightly as they walk against the wind.
The movie soon changes right after the wind blows the church door open. It focuses on the two figures earlier—a mother, and a daughter, as they begin to settle down at their new house.
Scene after scene, the narratives begin to blur into one, and you let yourself be immersed into the flow of the film. Instinctively, your body leans forward as you watch the chocolate and the store begin to take form. Yet in doing so, you missed the look your friend gave.
When the first conflict happens, you can't help but show your dislike towards the man—the well-dressed man from the beginning. But it soon dissipates when the woman invites her guest inside.
They talk for a little while, and the way she—her guest behaves, the clumsiness that she shows—that makes her look like a cornered cat, it almost looks surreal, as if you're watching yourself from the future scope. You press your hand against your lips, as the crease between your eyes deepens.
Perhaps it's just the right moment, or perhaps your thoughts spill over into his, that he decides to push your head gently onto his shoulder.
You were taken aback by the gesture, but you welcomed it. You murmur something to him, as you wrap your hand around his arm.
"What?" He asked in a low tone.
"Nothing." You told him while hiding your smile.
Kyle Garrick. You wonder if kind has always been his middle name. If it's not kind, then it must be thoughtful. It must be nice, to receive such affection from a man like him. In the midst of thoughts cartage, you begin to ponder, if it's alright for you to keep them from someone who's more deserving.
At the end of the movie, you slip your hand from his arm, as you stand up from your seat. You still remember the way he understands, and doesn't push further. He keeps the rest of the night in a lighthearted mood, though his hand lingers on you a little longer, and his gaze doesn't stray further from you, even just a little bit.
That night, you lay down on your bed with your thoughts as your lullaby. It doesn't help you sleep, but it does keep you company for the night.
The next day, you ask him if he's free on Friday.
It's curious how fast he responded back, considering that he still got jobs to do, particularly reports. When you read the message, you bite your lips as you type a new one.
'Wanna have dinner together?'
A new chat pops up in a second.
'Sure'
And another one after.
'When?'
'Today' You reply, 'Takeouts?'
'Let me cook for ya'
And it's settled.
When you show up on his doorstep, he opens it up the first time you ring the bell.
"Hey," He greets you with a grin, and you notice a red stain on his shirt, "Come in."
"Smells good." You commented as you stepped in, "What are you cooking?"
"Bolognese." He replied, "I haven't decided on the pasta yet. What do you want? Pappardelle or spaghetti?"
"Fusilli?" You said, before a smile betrays your lie, "Anything's fine, really."
"Pick a color then. Yellow or blue?"
"Yellow."
"Pappardelle then."
You thought it's just a random decider, until you saw the color of the packaging.
"Guess you're used to people who say it's up to you." You remarked while you climbed on the bar stool.
"You can say that." He chuckles as he drops the pasta into the pot.
"Were they your dates?"
"Pshh, no. Just my little brothers and sister. You know the story."
"I know." You trailed off and looked away, "But you must've had those moments in your dates."
"Like what you did earlier?" He smirks and you groan at him.
"Come on, you know I'd never complain about your choice."
"I know, that's why I like you."
"You always say that."
The conversation ends with a quiet chuckle, as he goes back to watch over the boiling water. You sense a reply from him that should be laid bare, but he left it at surmise.
"Dinner's ready." He announced, as he lifted up the plates from the counter. You follow him to the dining table, and you pull a seat while he places the dishes on the table.
As the two of you dig in, you quietly bite on the broad pasta. You might not be aware of it, but you always chew on your food longer when you're preoccupied with your mind.
You hear his voice as you snap out of your thoughts, but not clear enough for you to grasp.
"What?"
"It's alright if you wanna back down." He repeated, as he swirled the pasta with his fork, "I agreed to help you because you asked me to, but I know it might make things awkward between us, so."
"Oh, that's not—it's not about that, it's just," You chewed on your lip, "It's just that, when I think about you, I can't help but think that… I'll end up stealing something from you." You shook your head, "You could wait for the right person, you're not obligated to help me—"
"Well, I want to."
"I know, that's why I feel bad because I knew you wouldn't hesitate to help." You frown, "You're too kind for me, Ky. Sometimes I'm scared that I might get the wrong idea."
You almost jump when he holds your hand, and witness the fortitude that reflects in his eyes. "Go ahead then, go on and get the wrong idea. Because it might be true after all."
The way he said it—with a clear, unmistakable voice, drags you into silence. You can't find the words to say, nor the right response for his statement. While you're not entirely sure about the truth, you can see the trace of it on his face.
Your throat begins to tighten, and you try to swallow down whatever's in the way.
You know that he's hopeful that you'd give him some kind of clarity, but you don't. You couldn't.
After the dinner, you don’t extend your visit as you excuse yourself from staying.
"Let me take you home."
You shake your head, "I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
You shoot him a smile, "Yes, don't worry about me."
He seems hesitant for a moment, but it disappears the moment you pull him into a hug.
"I'll call you when I'm home."
He picks up the phone at the second ringtone, and asks you if you're home. You give an affirmative answer, before the line turns silent.
The words that had wrapped around your throat came back to the surface. They beg to be let out of your tongue, but you bite them down. Not now. Not yet.
The call ends not long after, as you both say goodnight. As you sit down on the vanity stool, you look at the reflection of you in the mirror. It's the shape that you've known so well, and yet, you don't recognize it at the same time. Has your face already been like this? Is this what he always sees whenever you're around?
Absent-mindedly, you reach up to touch your lips. What would you taste like, if he ever kissed you?
Unfortunately, you can only imagine for now.
Four days would pass, and you soon find yourself waiting for the bell. He had messaged you earlier, telling you that he'll pick you up at your place.
The destination of your date is still unknown, since you only asked him to take you to somewhere quiet. Somewhere you can talk without the presence of curious ears. Of course, the first thought that came to your mind is the privacy of your home, but he got another idea, and kept it as a surprise.
"Bring a jacket with you." He told you on the phone, "You might need it."
But you don't know how cold it'll be, so you stick with a cardigan.
When he gets to your place, he doesn't ring the bell. Instead, you hear your phone rings, before a honk of a car announces his arrival. You walk out of your place and lock the door behind.
"Where are we going?" Is the question you asked him after you got into his car.
"You'll find out." He replied with a grin.
He doesn't give you any clue, other than the paper bag on the back seat. He also told you that it's a one-hour drive, so it's alright if you want to rest your eyes.
"I'm fine." You said, as you turned on the radio.
The ride is predominantly filled with songs, and the occasional chat between you and him.
On the other day, you either wouldn't stop talking, or you'd sit in comfortable silence. But that morning, both options seem unreachable.
"I'm sorry." You uttered quietly.
"What?"
"Sorry that I dragged you into this." You muse, "And I'm sorry that I made such a big deal out of it. I made things worse, didn't I?"
"Why'd you say that?"
"Because things have already changed between us, even when we haven't done anything."
"You think so?"
"Yes," You divulged, "When you said those things, I couldn't help but think that maybe you really meant it. But then again, you never told me anything before. Anything that could… indicate something."
"Are you sure?" You frown at his reply, "Think again, (Name)."
"What—?"
The car comes to a halt, and you snap your head towards the window. The usual view of the city has been replaced with trees. You stare at the board near the entrance, and you notice the words 'National Park' on it.
"We're here." He stated while unbuckling the seat belt.
You soon follow him as you push the door open. The cold air rushes inside, and makes you shiver.
He offers you his hand when you step out of the car. "Let's take a walk."
The trail that he chooses isn't as rough as you thought, and you can easily keep up with his speed. Though you knew that he slowed it down for you.
As you walk by his side, you feel a tug on your hand. It was his hand, and he wrapped it around yours. He smiles when you turn to him, and mutters out the same line he used whenever you're out with him.
"Wouldn't want to lose you here."
And it just clicked. Every piece of the puzzle just falls into the right place, and you begin to see the whole picture. He never changed at all, it was you who's changing.
"You like me."
You feel his hold tightens, before he loosens it up a second after.
"Like is an understatement."
"I'm afraid to use the stronger word."
"I know." He spoke softly, "That's why I never said it."
At the end of the path, a quiet lake waits for the two of you, providing a place for a silent conversation. The water is calm, but the breeze is colder than before. You hug yourself, trying to savor the little warmth that your cardigan provides. It doesn't take seconds before you hear a rustle, and feel yourself wrapped in a parka.
"Told you to bring a jacket." He murmured, as he held the garment for you.
His coat is warm, as if it has absorbed the heat of his skin. Your hands slip into the sleeves, before you roll up the cuffs. You watch his face as he zips up the parka, before he returns your gaze.
Perhaps it's him who leans closer, or it's you who wraps your hands around him first, but in the end, your lips meet with his. The kiss you both share is soft, and filled with longing. It's impossible to tell who's feeling it belongs to, but it envelopes around you like a mist.
When the two of you part, you smile as you murmur against his lips.
"I like you."
He softly chuckles as he cups your face, "I'm glad."
You both recognize the nuance of it, but no one speaks of it louder than a heartbeat.
I like you. What an understatement.
—
"Why do you like me?"
He lifts his head from the magazine when he hears your question.
"I could tell you all of the reasons, but at the end of the day, I simply like you."
"Really?" You roll your eyes, "Is that your way of saying you don't know?"
He lets out a small laugh, while he closes the mag. "Fine, I'll tell you." He begins, "I can't remember when it was, but we're pretty close at that time. We were just talking that night, and you asked me if I chose to be the giver because I felt uncomfortable receiving. I never thought about it, but it made sense. When I said yes, you told me, if I don't learn to receive, then I'd end up hurting other people. Because I denied their affection."
You lift your brows at the recount, "Did I really say that?"
"Yes, but it's not your words that got me the most. It's the way you broke my logic, and helped me see things from a new perspective." He stated, "It felt… nice, to be understood by you." He rubs the nape of his neck, "Well, what about you? Why do you like me?"
"I'm not sure." You pucker your lips, "I think I've always liked you. Because you're thoughtful, and it's something that's easier to say than done."
"Just that?"
"What? You want more?"
"Yeah," He smirked, "Go on."
You look at him long and hard, before you decide, "No."
"Why?"
"I'd say something embarrassing."
"Like what?"
"... I'm not telling."
He jumps on the sofa as he seizes your body. You squeal when he digs his fingers on your waists, and you shout, "Cut it out!"
He chuckles when you try to slap his hand away and fail, "C'mon, tell me." He grins, while his hands don't stop tickling you.
"Stop—I'm not telling—!"
When he had you pinned down, you kicked around to get him off you. Which, unfortunately, ends up knocking the empty glass on the table. You both watch in horror as the glass falls off the surface, and into the floor.
But it doesn't shatter. Instead, it bounces twice, before it rolls in a half circle. When it stops moving, it takes about five seconds before the two of you burst into laughter.
"That's the second time you almost broke it."
"Sorry." You muttered through your giggle, "But whose fault was it?"
"Me." He grinned, before slowly bent down to kiss you.
Just like the other kisses you've shared, it goes on for more than a minute. He gently guides you as he cups your cheeks. Your arms find their way around his neck, and keep him close to you.
He leans his forehead against yours, as he catches his breath. You observed the way his chest rises and falls while you follow the same rhythm. Maybe you soften at the sight of him, or maybe a kiss'd really loosen up someone's tongue, that's why the words fall out of your mouth so easily.
"I like your kisses."
He raises his head as he turns his gaze on you. "Was that the thing you're embarrassed to admit?"
You give his shoulder a punch.
"Hey." He retorted with a chuckle, "'M just kidding."
He presses his lips on your cheek, before he lays down on your side. You shift your body to give him space, and settle your head on his arm, while the other one is wrapped around you.
"Comfy?"
You nod, "You're warm."
"Glad to be your heater."
You bury your face into his chest as you giggle.
"I just wish you're portable," You jest, "So I could use you whenever I'm cold."
"Who says I'm not portable?"
"Well, you can't be with me 24/7."
"Careful what you wish for." He smirked.
You raise your brow at him, "Is that a warning?"
"Maybe."
"Mmm," You rested your finger on your chin, "Didn't sound like one."
"Really?" He teases, "Then you won't mind if I keep you here for the night."
"I'm busy tomorrow, so no." You hold your chuckle when you see him pout, "But I'm free next weekend, you can keep me until Monday if you want."
A glint of mischief crosses his eyes, as he pulls you into a kiss.
"I can't wait."
But waiting doesn't feel longer than you expect, since you meet him for dinner almost everyday. If one of you couldn't make it, you both would be on the call that night.
Talking has been a part of your relationship, even when the two of you still carried the friends title. You could talk with him for hours, and bring up every topic into it. Doesn't matter how random or strange. But there was a line that you both couldn't cross, something that kept the two of you in circles. And you thought it'd stay that way, until you stepped into the other side.
It's a wonder how a familial issue could push your relationship to this point, since you wouldn't think twice about him for the sake of friendship. Now that you've crossed the line, you have nothing to hide from him.
While it might be a good thing, it also leads you to unknown territories. When you're with him, you can no longer ignore the tension that fills the room. Any time that he kissed you, or held you tight in his arms, you couldn't help but think if this would be it. This would be the right time for it. But you couldn't bring yourself to ask.
Maybe that's the reason why—after the 2:01:31 mark on the call, you bring up the obvious question to light.
"Y'know Ky," You start, "I don't have much experience with sex, and neither do you. So how exactly are we gonna do it?"
The line goes silent for a moment, before you hear him draw a breath in. "Are you afraid it'll hurt?"
"No—I mean, yes. But that's not my point." You sigh, "I just—I don't know, I feel like I need to learn about it before getting to the act."
There's a subtle hint of a rustle that you could only guess coming from the papers, "It'll definitely help if we do some research beforehand."
"But where do we start?" You asked, "Porn?"
"I wouldn't recommend that. It's… unrealistic."
"What then? 'A guide to sex' book? 'Sex for dummies'?"
You catch the sound of his chuckle from the speaker. "Only grandmas would read that."
"I would read that if it helps me prepare."
He hums, and your ear picks up the sound of clink, like a metal is placed against a wood. "Can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"How far have you gone with your partner in the past?"
You hum as you think back, "I think I stopped at heavy petting. I was in high school back then and I was curious. But it hurted, and I was bleeding after the session." You snort when you recall the moment, "Of course I freaked out, but when I secretly tested myself out, I found that I'm still a virgin. I could only guess that he tore something with his nail. That's why I bled."
"I see."
"What about you?" You asked, "How far have you gotten with it?"
"Same as you." He responded, "Fingering, oral, hand job, all the foreplay stuff."
You bite your lip as you hear his tone becomes heavier with each word, something that you notice whenever you dive into a risky topic.
"Should we give it a try?"
There's a pause from the other side of the call, before you receive a reply. "You sure you want it?"
"Yes." You breathe out, "We gotta start somewhere."
Your fingers toy with the hem of your shirt, as you wait for him to answer.
"Alright." He mused, and you felt the warmth creeping up from your lower belly. "Is the plan still on?"
"What plan?"
"You staying over for the weekend?"
You smile against the phone as you reply, "Of course."
"I'll be waiting then."
Friday evening, you arrive at his door with a bag of clothes and other necessities. When the bell rings, it takes about three seconds before the door swings open.
He greets you in the usual manner, except this time he speaks in a softer tone.
"Hey." He smiles upon seeing you, "Come in."
He steps aside when you walk in, before he takes the bag from your hand. You mutter a small 'thank you', and wait for him in the living room while he puts your things aside.
"You want something to drink?" He offered, but you shook your head.
"I'm fine."
You watch him come near you, before he bends down to his knees. You raise your brows when he tugs your hand towards him, and presses a kiss onto your palm.
"Can we talk?"
"About what?" You asked.
"Your boundaries." He squeezed your hand gently, "What's your preferences, what you're not comfortable with,"
"Oh." You look down to your lap to hide your blush, "I don't have any preference yet, I think." You shrug, "I have to experience it to know what I like or dislike, but I think I'm fine with everything you do. Just… don't treat me rough, because I don't think I can handle it."
"Wouldn't dream of hurting you." He pecks on your cheek. "Come,"
You stand from your seat as he pulls you up, and your body follows him naturally as he drags you with him. As he closes the bedroom door behind, your heart leaps when he lifts you up with his arms to kiss you. Your legs wrap around his waist, while you keep your hands on his chest.
When he lays you down on the bed, you push his body away for a little as you mumble, "My, aren't you eager."
He observes your face before he chuckles, "You don't know how long I've waited for this."
You moan when he presses his kiss on your neck, and you feel his hand slip under your garment. Soon, the elastic band of your underwear is dragged down on your skin, and you instinctively close your thighs together.
"Let me taste you, (Name)."
He tugs your pants down until they reach your ankles, he takes his time to unhook them from your feet, before pushing your legs apart. You call his name as a protest, but any attempt to cover yourself from him is useless.
"Ky—" You stare at him wide-eyed as he lowers his head to your core, to the point that you can feel his breath against your labia. Your body tenses up when he gets the first taste of you, before he buries his tongue into your core.
"Tell me if I hurt you." He told you, and waited until you nodded to continue.
You gasp when he presses his tongue against your clit—not out of pleasure, but foreign feeling as the rough texture of his tongue latches on your nub. Your hand shoots up to grab his hair, while your legs clamp on his head. He grunts when you squirm away, and links his arms around your thighs to keep you still.
At first, you only feel a strange sensation every time his tongue swipes against your bundle of nerves, but soon it builds up into a familiar surge. Warmth begins to spread from your lower region, and you muffle a moan when he flicks his tongue on your sensitive clit.
"Ky—!" You hissed when it hit the right spot, "Keep going—"
Your hips bucks involuntarily as he sucks on the swelling bud, it sends an electricity through your body, before his lips detach from you. You whine at the loss of contact, but it doesn't take a second before his elastic muscle returns to its previous place.
The grip on his hair tightens as he picks up the pace, and soon the pleasure starts to coil inside your stomach. Your brows are knitted as you focus on his tongue, chasing after the high that's been hanging in front of you. It's not until you tilt your hips, that you finally reach it.
You cry out as your back arches, your eyes snap open as the wave of pleasure hits you. It was different, more satisfying than what you did on lonely nights. As you slowly come down, your body relaxes under his touch.
When he reaches up to kiss you, you chuckle as you taste yourself from his lips. "And you told me you're a virgin." You mused.
"I don't need to lose it to be good at oral."
You roll your eyes and hold him off by his chest, "Yeah right."
He seems taken aback when you push him to the side, before straddling him between your legs. Your hands work on his pants, as you loosen up the drawstring. "What are you doing?" He muttered out.
"Returning the favor." You replied with a smirk, while you tugged down his pants.
You've seen the outline of his member when he's still dressed, but now that you strip him off, you finally get the full view of it.
You sense his gaze on you as you stare at his cock. Your hand reaches out to touch the tip, and it twitches under your fingertips.
"Are you just gonna stare?"
"Patience." You shot him a teasing look, "I was just admiring."
He props himself up to watch you bend down, taking his length into your mouth. You look at him through your lashes, as you slowly drag your tongue along the shaft. Your fingers wrap around his base, and begin to give it a pump.
His breath becomes shallower with each stroke of your hand, while you wrap your lips around his cock. The tip feels hot on your tongue, as if it's filled with impatience. He groans as you sink your mouth deeper, "Keep going, baby."
You perk up at the nickname he used, but it needs to wait before you can bring it up to him, since your mouth is occupied at the moment.
He places a hand on your head, and runs his fingers through your hair before they settle on your crown. You grunt when he begins to rock his hips gently, while his hand gives you no room to pull back. He's careful enough not to push too deep, but he still overwhelms you.
"That's it—" He panted, brows knitted together as he focused on you. "Fuck—"
His heavy breath, his gentle grip on your hair send warmth through your body. It's not the first time you've done this, but it's the only time you felt desired. He's eager, but he's careful at the same time. He doesn't rush things, he fixates on the moment instead. When you place your hand on his thigh, he slows down as he loosens up his grip on you.
"You alright?"
You nod before you pull away from him.
"I want to ride you."
His brows are raised as you climb on top of him, slowly lowering yourself onto his lap. He takes a sharp breath when your core touches the base of his member, leaving a wet trail as you grind on him. You hear a quiet groan from his sighs, and it becomes heavier each time you pick up the pace.
You bite your lip as you feel your core throb at the sight beneath you. The way his head digs into the pillow, half-lidded eyes and panting, and the way his muscles tense as he chases after pleasure. His hands settle on your waists, keeping you from moving too far from the right spot. Your breath comes out as a huff when the friction starts to get to you. It almost feels real, as if he's really inside you.
"I'm close." He chokes out a moan, and you feel his fingers dig into your skin. "(Name)—"
Your lips curl into a grin when you hear the urgency in his voice. You lean down to kiss him, and he eagerly returns the favor. You grunt against his mouth, as you struggle to move with his arms wrapped tightly around you. But he doesn't seem to mind the erratic pace, since his hips move on its own.
His body shudders and he throws his head back as he groans, loud enough that you can feel his chest rumble through your palms. His member twitches against your core, spilling the white release onto both of your and his clothes. It takes a moment for him before he registers your lips on his neck, which he tilts his head and leans his cheek against yours.
"That was…"
"Good?" You grinned as you gave him a kiss.
"Great. Amazing. Ten out of ten." He chuckles, "Are you sure you're a virgin?"
You playfully pinch his cheek while you laugh, "Shut up."
He shoots you a coy smile, before he gently rolls you down with him on the bed.
"We should take a bath."
"Later." He muttered, wrapping one arm around you.
"Come on." You protested while tugging his hand off you, "We can cuddle after that."
"Fine," He lets you go, "Let's take a shower."
And he said it in a not-so-innocent voice.
The two of you end up prolonging the bath time, as he's taking you for a second round. If he's eager the first time, the second time must be worse. Since he's got the taste of it. You knew that he's exceptional, that he's a quick-learner, but you didn't expect it'd apply to sex as well.
The thing is, you never came with fingers alone. But when he cornered you in the shower, knuckles-deep in your core, he had you screaming as the sweet shock from the orgasm went through your body. He doesn't give you much of a break, as he bends you down until your ass touches his hip. You gasp in horror when you feel the tip of his dick against your drenched hole, he teasingly rubs himself on your labia, before it slips down to your clit.
He had your thighs pressed together, which made the friction even stiffer. You groan as he begins to thrust, hitting your throbbing bud everytime without mercy. He pins both of your wrists against the wall with one hand, while he keeps your body still with the other. It's almost unfair how strong he is to hold you down like this, and how cruel he is to tease you as he whispers dirty words into your ear. By the time you come, you have no energy left, even for standing.
He catches you right before your legs give up, holding you up while he sneaks a hand under the back of your thighs. You yelp when he props you up in his arms, carrying you out of the bathroom.
You land on the bed with a bounce, and receive no privilege to get up as he holds your legs together, before placing them against his shoulder. The color in your face is drained the moment his length rests on your thigh, fervent and heavy.
"I hope you're not tired yet," He grins, and you swear you see horns growing from his head the moment he says it, "Because I'm nowhere done with you."
—
Kyle Fucking Garrick.
You take back what you said about his middle name. It's not kind or thoughtful, it's fucking Prick.
It should've been obvious to you, after all the gossip you heard from your friends about him. Something that you thought as a baseless fact, a Lavater-physiognomy type of bullshit, but somehow they got it right. He's not as innocent as you defended him to be. He is freaky, and he's good at keeping it a secret.
After he exhausted you the night before, he decided that the best way to wake you up was with his mouth. Your clit was already swollen from yesterday's activity, and he abused it again in the morning. You stirred in your sleep, before your eyes snapped open at the sharp tug on your sensitive bud.
"G'mornin'." He greeted you the moment you woke up, still disoriented. "How's your sleep?"
You narrowed your eyes, as you tried to turn your vision focused. "Wha—" You slurred.
"Shh." He pushed you down to the bed, while his hand worked its way to your fold. "Let me take care of you, baby."
And thus you started your day with an orgasm.
Of course it's only the beginning, since it's him that you're talking about. He could make you faint in the bathroom if you didn't lock the door behind, and he could certainly numb your mind with his fingers if you didn't cut two apples for breakfast. But once you ran out of excuses, you're pretty much doomed.
While you knew he'd stop right away if you told him so, you couldn't bring yourself to say it. Because once he puts his hand on you, you just melt. The irritation that you carry in mind dissolves the moment he wraps you in his arms, and every curse you hold on your tongue comes out as a whimper, as his mouth latches onto your nape.
It's a game of self-will, and he plays it underhandedly. You both know what you want, but no one speaks of it, no one takes the initiative. You grit your teeth as frustration begins to take over you. It's pretty clear he wants you to say it, with the excuse that it's yours to decide. But he lures you with sweet words, and waves your much-needed release in front of you. Close enough for you to see, but far away from your reach.
And finally, after three neglected orgasms, you swallow your ego and beg. "Please Ky—" You cried out, "Please, just fuck me—"
His hand ceases to move, as he pulls it out of your sopping core. You whine at the loss of contact, before he muffles it with his kiss.
The trip to his bedroom is quite messy, with a lot of thrown clothes and sloppy kisses. When you find yourself on his bed again, you crawl up to give him some space. He follows after you, and presses his lips against yours with impatience. Faintly, you hear the sound of a wrapper being ripped, before he pulls away to roll down the rubber on his length.
He comes back to your side, locking his lips with yours again, while he slots his hips between your legs. Your hands find the purchase on his back as you cling to him, digging your fingers into his skin the moment you feel his tip against your hole.
A gasp escapes your lips when he pushes himself in, stretching your pussy open with his dick.
"Shit, you're too tight." He hissed, as your walls tightened around his glans.
Your face contorts in pain, as he tries to squeeze himself deeper.
"No good." He mused, pulling himself out of you. You whimper as your hole clenches around nothing. "On your side, baby."
He gently rolls you to the side, sliding his arm below your head as he lays behind you. He places a hand under your cheek, and guides your lips back to his. You wince when you feel the nudge against your core, before it slowly sinks deeper into you.
It doesn't hurt much, compared to what you endured earlier. But it still stings, and you smack your palm against his hip when he begins to thrust. "Ky—" You moaned against his lips, gripping onto his skin as you felt yourself stuffed to the brim.
"Just a little more, baby." He places a kiss on your shoulder, while his hands find their way to wrap around your body. "Just a little more."
No words could form in your tongue, as your mouth snaps open at the steady thrust of his cock. It was slow, torturous, and left you wondering if you've underestimated his size.
But it soon comes to a stop, as his lower stomach touches the curve of your bottom. Your heart is beating against your chest, and you try to catch your breath while he showers you with kisses. The push of his hips comes to a halt, and you take it as a chance to rest. You lean your head back to his shoulder, giving him access to your neck, which he soon decorates with love marks.
"You alright?" He murmured, tenderly stroked your arm.
You hum as an answer. "You can move now."
"You sure?"
"Yes." You breathe out, "Please."
You sense a hesitation in his touch, before he presses a kiss on your temple.
"Tell me if it hurts."
You nod, giving his forearm a squeeze as a reassurance.
He shifts your body closer to him, readjusting the position to make it more comfortable. You raise your head a bit while he moves, before he guides you back to his arm. A grunt escapes your lips the moment he drags his member out, before he thrusts it back in. Your core flutters around him, as the numbness slowly fades into pleasure.
Perhaps your body is still sensitive from all the teasing he did, but you can't deny that he's good. Every stroke of his cock just hits right, as it grazes you in the place where his fingers couldn't reach. You grip his arm when you feel his pace quickens, filling the room with the wet slaps of the skins. And when his tip nudges the tender part of you, your body reacts in a way you don't expect.
He seems to notice it, as he lifts his head up to see your face. "Does that feel good?" He whispered in your ear, and you yelped when he snapped his hips against yours.
"Oh God—" You scrabble at his body, trying to find something to grab on. "Do that again."
"Gladly."
A warning comes up to your throat, before it dies down as soon as he moves. You squirm against his strong grip, digging your nails into his thigh like a claw machine. When his cock grazes the right spot within you, you cry out a strangled moan. And the second time he does it, the suspicions you had in mind are all erased. He's no longer teasing you, because now he really intends to make you scream.
When he rolls on top of you, you feel your legs being spread apart with his knees. Stretching your pussy open for him to go deeper. With him on top of you, and your stomach flat on the bed, you have no room to crawl away.
His hand snakes around your shoulder, propping you up into a half-arched position. A whimper comes out of your mouth the moment he slams himself into you, while his lips are busy with your neck. Niping and sucking on your reddening skin. Your hand reaches up to the back of his head, gripping the curls of his hair as you moan.
"I'm close." You hissed, "Kyle—"
"I know, baby." He presses a kiss on your nape, "I know."
He raises your hips slightly, before slipping his hand between your thighs. Your body jerks when he touches your clit, rubbing it in a circle motion. The fact that it's already swollen doesn't help you either.
"Ky!" You claw his hand in panic, "I can't—I can't—"
"You can." He grunted against your ear, "Let it go, baby."
Your grip on his wrist tightens, as every muscle in your body tenses up. You could barely hold it when he fucked you slow, and now with his finger on your clit, you just break.
A loud cry fills the room as you come. Hard. Your eyes roll up, hands gripping tightly on the sheet until your fists turn pale. And for a moment, you forgot how to breathe, until you gasped for air. Which comes in the form of short and trembling puffs. The moment of bliss and numbness only descends for short seconds, before you realize he's still inside you.
The burning sensation in your core comes back to you, although weaker than before. You whimper against the sheet, as he prolongs the high you just reached. His fingers no longer slotted between your folds, as they move to grip your waist. In daze, you begin to wonder when it'll end. Until you feel a shudder from the body on top of you, and a strangled moan falls from his mouth.
He rests his head on you, catching a breath, before he slowly rolls down to the side. You watch him as he wearily pulls off the condom, and throws it aside.
The two of you lay down still, mustering the energy that's left after the laborious session. Although you doubt if it's the same case for him, since he has no trouble getting up to fetch the tissue box.
As he wipes himself off, you mutter out with a low voice, "You've ruined me for other men."
He turns his head to you, before a grin spreads on his face. "Already thought about leaving?"
You know from his tone that he's not serious, but neither of you can carry the usual banter. At least not now.
"You know what I mean." You mused.
His face softens, as he bends down to kiss you. "I know."
You smile against his lips, and carefully shift your body until you lay on your back. He climbs on top of you, planting each arm on your side as he latches his lips on yours. You reach up to cup his face, pulling him closer as you part your lips, giving his tongue the access to dive into your mouth deeper. The two of you relish in each other's taste, before you feel something on your thigh.
"You're hard." You let slip what you saw, and he flushed.
"Sorry." He rubbed his neck, "You just… turn me on."
You observe his face for a moment, noting how he avoids your eyes whenever he's shy. His expression, and his candid confession set something in you, as you feel the warmth in your lower belly.
"I think we can go one more time."
"Aren't you tired?"
"A little." You replied, "But it's nothing I can't handle."
His eyes search into yours for a second, before he gives in.
"Alright." He uttered, "Let me grab the condom."
—
Now that you've gotten the taste of it, you can understand why sex is often called forbidden apple. Because once you put your teeth to it, you can't go back to what you're used to. No more friendly cuddles, and no more innocent kisses that won't lead to something.
While it's easy to get swept up in the new pastime, you can't help but worry. As a lot of 'what if's fill your thoughts. You never doubt him, no. But you'll never know what the future's like. For you and him.
One day, when the two of you lounge on the couch—with your head on his chest, as it rises and falls in a slowing rhythm, you divulge a question that's been eating you up.
"What if it doesn't work?" You brood, "What if he still wants to marry me despite of everything?"
You watch the subtle change in his face as he meets your gaze. "Do you want me to come along?"
"No," You muse, "It'll make things worse."
He hums, "Have you talked to your parents?"
"... No." You looked away, as you chewed on your lip. "No, I haven't."
"I think you should." He gives your arm a squeeze, "Talk to them, maybe they'll help you."
"They didn't help me at all." You said bitterly.
"You wouldn't know that, (Name)." He let out a quiet sigh, "Parents don't usually tell what they've done for their children. And that could be the case with yours."
"They didn't stop the engagement."
"Maybe they couldn't." He replied, "Hey, look at me." He gently pulls you to face him, "I know it's hard for you, and I can't imagine how you feel about it. But your parents love you, you said it yourself." He reassured you, "Maybe they didn't stop it because they're powerless, but they knew that you'd find a way out. After all, they're the one who told you about the ceremony, right?"
While you're still frowning at him, you begin to soften up in his hold. "... Yeah, they did." You muttered.
"They knew that you're against it and you'd deliberately failed one of the tests, so they just told you what to do and what you shouldn't. It's their way to tell you which one to break, and which one you should keep in mind." He sighs, "And I hate to say it, but I'd do the same if it's the only choice I have."
Though his words have put you at ease, you can't help but sense a new doubt entering your mind. "Will they… will they be okay if I fail the test? Won't it give them a bad name?"
"I think it's the risk they're willing to take." He smiled softly, "Talk to them, (Name). You need it."
You follow his advice two days later.
You've been mulling over the talk for days, going through all of the possibilities over and over again in your mind. You've prepared for a whole speech, but it all disappears once you hear their voices. Just like that, all of your thought falls from your mouth, as they flow out like a stream.
There's a lot of talking, a lot of 'sorry's, and maybe a few of tears. But in the end, you feel better.
As the conversation slips into a mundane, but comfortable chat, you slip his name between your life update. Though you have your doubts about it, it's worth telling in spite of all.
"You should introduce him to us." Your mother chirped, "Bring him with you the next holiday, I want to meet the lucky fellow."
You chuckle as you tell her alright, but no promise.
Four days later, on the evening at the airport, you reach up to kiss him before you say the words. You almost laugh at how easy it was, to say such words with such ease. And he'd laugh with you, if he wasn't struck by it.
"I thought you're afraid to use that word."
"Not anymore." You said with a smile, "Not with you."
He seems confounded for a moment, before he shakes his head, grinning from ear to ear.
"I hope you won't regret it, because I'll say that to you everyday from now on."
"Well, why don't you start now?"
You both chuckle, before he wraps his hands around you and pulls you into another kiss.
"I love you, (Name).
"Come home to me soon."
#it's finally DONEEEEE#alright. I'm officially done with long fics#it's not healthy for my sleep schedule#gaz cod#gaz mw2#cod#call of duty#cod mw2#gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick#i'm too lazy to tag more#enjoy
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What if gon and killua and all the subtext r queerbait??do u think they might be
I've answered this kind of thing before, but why not do a refresher? I keep this image on my desktop for when someone doubts Togashi's intentions.
This was well before HxH was created, before even Yu Yu Hakusho was created. Note that he says he wanted to create this gay, crossdressing manga based on his own "personal interest" and that he grew "deeply attached" to it.
Togashi has noted himself to be a fan of Patalliro!, a BL series written by Mineo Maya--one of the few male BL authors, and Patalliro! was the first BL series to be adapted to anime. He has stated that Hiei's hair was inspired by a character from Patalliro!
Togashi has discussed enjoying putting "shojo manga elements" in his work as well. This can, and likely does, refer at least in part to all the gay subtext.
He put Sensui and Itsuki in Yu Yu Hakusho, who somewhat ambiguously seem to be in a romantic relationship. See this line:
He's even said Itsuki is one of his favorite characters in Yu Yu Hakusho.
He's also married to the Naoko Takeuchi, the creator of Sailor Moon, who famously has also included lesbian relationships in her manga.
Looking at how multifaceted and fully integrated into the characters themselves/the story the "hints" of romantic feelings between Gon and Killua are, I have trouble believing Togashi would just be doing this out of "queerbaiting," which is a complex topic in the first place when it comes to anime and manga, because the culture in Japan is different and the anime/manga industries have a long complicated history with queer themes.
He's grown up in a fairly conservative culture that has changed only gradually, and he has been working in decades in the most mainstream manga publication out there, which I'm certain has rules around what he can and can't portray (though the degree to which he's bound by those rules at this point is unknown). It makes sense, therefore, that he's accustomed to using subtext and ambiguity rather than portraying gay relationships in a way that is 100% undeniably canon. He's not writing for BL publications, after all.
To me, the romantic aspect of Gon and Killua's relationship feels very genuine and heartfelt. It's built into who the characters are and how they're set up as characters in the first place (like Killua's birthday, for instance), and what they mean to each other is one of the main emotional cores of the series. The way he weaves this concept into the series in many, many different ways has emotional weight and meaning. It does not feel at all like something he casually added as fanservice or for the hell of it as an afterthought. I think it's left ambiguous on purpose, but the repeated and sometimes quite blatant hints are there for those who want to connect the dots.
As time has gone by and I've read more of Togashi's own words and discussions of his influences as well as considering just how much queer subtext exists in the series (and not just with Gon and Killua by any means--Alluka, LeoPika, HisoIllu, PariGing, etc.) AND in his other series as well, it's only made me more and more certain that he includes all this stuff with full intention, and coming at least in a large part from his own personal desire to include these elements.
#hxh#hunter x hunter#yoshihiro togashi#togashi#killugon#gon#killua#yu yu hakusho#my posts#asks#anonymous#meta#? kinda#this is basically repeating things I've already said but hey#new links and such#new phrasing#I could go on and on but it's a start
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2 | monster under the milkman's bed.
content warning: nsfw (lewd), porn with minimal to no plot, sex on the floor, sub francis (as usual), doppelganger (WITH TENTACLES!) male reader
a/n: my friends helped me out with this big special thanks to them 💜 also shout out to that one person who was the only person that reblogged my first post LOLL
(,,> ᴗ <,,) , (๑/////๑ " ) , (≧ヮ≦) 💕
Francis was starting to think he was having really bad hallucinations, he's been checking under his bed every night, before he goes to sleep, because, he swore he saw tentacles under his bed, peeking out, like it was teasing him. He would also hear growls and grumbles underneath him when he tries to sleep, this was one of the reasons why he's been having lack of sleep.
he was getting more and more on edge, every damn night he would hear those noises, but when he checks, there's always nothing. he hopes to god— if there even is one— that he would finally catch this monster under his bed. he doesn't believe that he's going insane at all, i mean— if doppelgangers exist in this world why wouldn't monsters under beds exist as well?
well, after a few restless nights, Francis finally drifted off to sleep..
but what he didn't expect was a wet dream to happen.
a wet dream, a wet dream about the damn monster under his bed.
it was.. so vivid. the tentacles were teasing him, deliberately stroking his skin, undressing his pants, playing with the bulge that was being covered by his boxers, Francis couldn't help but felt himself harden even more from the touch.. maybe, just maybe, he has a thing for tentacles.
because the next thing he knew after waking up, he sat up on his bed with pearls of sweat trickling down his temple, he felt something weird, something wet underneath on what he's sitting on.
he pulled his blanket off, revealing his sheets wet by his morning glory (or well.. morning wood!), he looks at it in disbelief, breathing heavily. he runs his fingers through his hair, sighing and getting off the bed, he has to get rid of the sheets and wash them now, even when it's in the middle of the night, he just didn't really expect this to happen. it was.. weird. why would he dream of a monster under his bed doing those despicable things to him?
just remembering it made him shudder, he hastily takes the sheets off the mattress, wanting this to get over with. what the poor milkman didn't know, that you were watching him, and you were ready to finally expose yourself to him.
before Francis could even react, you pounced yourself on him, pinning him on the floor, as Francis finally realizes what was going on, he lets out a gasp, looking at you.
you looked human enough, but the only thing that caught him off guard was how you lunged at him, your teeth are razor sharp, and are those.. tentacles?
the. the same tentacles he's been seeing the past few nights? those tentacles are attached to your back. could it be? well, it does make sense. but why? why were you under his bed?
one of your tentacles gripped the milkman's throat, making him choke out another gasp before letting out choked noises.
"be quiet." you sneered at him, your hands were against the floor at either side of Francis' head, leaning close to him. you were so close to him, so fucking close, it was making him slightly dizzy.
as your tentacle loosen its grip on the milkman, you looked down to Francis' crotch, making him squirm under you. you hummed in amusement, looking at the tent in his currently tight boxers.
"what's this?" you tilt your head, one of your tentacles slithering towards it to touch it, making Francis bite his lip, trying his best not to let out a mewl growing in his throat.
you couldn't care less about that at the moment, you were curious with what's up with this human's body, the same tentacle continues rubbing against the bulge as it pulls the boxers down, displaying the hardened cock that Francis has, looks like it was already leaking with pre. interesting.
you never knew that humans can go through such things as this, but it was amusing, it made you wanna go further, your tentacles pulling his boxers all the way down as one of them teasingly places its tip inside the human's hole.
the tentacle on Francis' neck seemed to let go completely, joining in with the other tentacles, you could hear Francis let out a soft moan, his hips bucking, you could feel how desperate the human is, which made you smile even more.
a tentacle wraps itself around Francis' shaft, slowly stroking it as the other tentacle that was placing its tip in him finally plunges inside without any warning, making Francis yelp, his body shivering and his back involuntarily arching to your touch. "mm.. nghn- p- please... mm..." his voice was hoarse and weak, making you smirk even more.
"don't worry, I'm just trying to get used to this." you soothingly said, your strokes slowly increasing its pace, same with the tentacle thrusting in and out of Francis. "mm.. oh- agh- mmn..." those whimpers, it made you crave for more of those noises.
you grit your teeth, another tentacle was shoved inside him, letting another noise out of him, the tentacles inside him immediately found those bundle of nerves that has pleasure hastening for his cock, more pre-cum leaking out of his slit as you thumb it, making him let out a cry even louder.
"you're really cute like this." you utter, continuing your relentless torment on him, you could feel your tentacles hitting the milkman's prostate nonstop, more moans and cries spilling out from him. "'mmn- I- I'mm..!" he couldn't even continue his jumbled of words, for it was cut off by his own cry, his body shaking uncontrollably, his cock shooting ropes of cum all over you and the tentacle that was wrapped around it.
you let out a chuckle at the sight, your tentacles pulling out as the other one was slowly milking him dry, you couldn't help but wanted to taste him, so you did, the cum-coated tentacle going inside your mouth, tasting Francis with a hum.
as Francis watched, he lets out a whine, his chest going up and down, body still shaking as his muscles relaxes a bit. the tentacle pulled away as more showed up behind you, looking at Francis with a cruel smile.
"don't think we're done yet, human."
#francis mosses x male reader#francis mosses x you#francis mosses x reader#milkman x reader#tentacles...#dom male reader#this was supposed to be a smut drabble but i think i made it into a oneshot#smut shot#is that what its called?#zzz... writes
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intoxicating
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word count: 4.1k
warnings: grinding, drinking, cussing, plz lemme know if i forgot anything else :3
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the first thing people took notice of when they looked at you -
that mesmerizing smile.
the way you carried yourself was so profound, as if every bad thing thrown your way would just bounce right off.
your bubbly energy enraptured everybody around you, feeding off of your wide grins, and constant laughter bringing a sense of joy into their life.
earning your nickname; sweet girl.
everyone loved you from the moment they laid their eyes on you.
i mean... who wouldn't?
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"Sweetheart, you have got to get ahold of yourself."
"I do- I don't know what makes you think I don't."
A scoff left Garcia's glossed lips, as she stared at your frantic fingers messing with your hair, trying to apply everything all at once. Reaching for your signature perfume, spraying a good dosage on to ensure it stays on the whole night. The blonde had come over to get ready for a night out in the town with your fellow co-workers, including a certain brunette that you had a soft spot for.
Your hair was not cooperating with you. Not. In. The. Slightest.
Does this dress make me look- too much?
Who the hell made this damn mousse-
"If you touch your hair one more time, I will personally make it my life's mission to get rid of your existence." She grabbed a hold of your arm, tugging you out of the bathroom despite your protests. "Spencer won't care what your hair looks like when he's got you underneath him."
A gasp left your lips, smacking Penelope's giggling behind as she ran away from you towards your front door. "Or above him- whatever you're into sweet cheeks."
"Oh! I'm going to get your ass, Pen."
"Tell that to Mr. Hotchner!"
Penelope ripped the front door open, revealing a startled Hotch who had just raised his fist to knock on your house door. A smug smirk graced the blonde's lips, sticking her tongue out at you as she ran towards the SUV where Morgan was waiting. You stood there with a pout on your lips, grabbing your purse from your entrance table. Hotch eyed your dressed up figure, feeling his heart rate pick up as you made your way over to him your perfume engulfing his senses.
"Hiya Hotch." Wrapping your arm around his waist, giving the older man a tight squeeze letting your free hand lock the door behind you stuffing your keys into your purse. Penelope and you might have had one too many shots, the constant cheesing on your face giving you away.
"Hello sweet girl." Hotch had known you long enough to see you in every situation imaginable, including your drunk side. He chuckled as you left your arm around him, not minding it for a second as you guys walked down the steps to the car. "Are we sure this isn't the aftermath of the bar?"
You let out a small giggle, knowing he was partially right. Hotch opened up the car door for you, helping you into the lifted vehicle a small thank you leaving your lips as you scooted further in as he squeezed in behind you.
The car smelled like people who had were planning on getting laid. Hotch’s cologne smelled of leather and cinnamon. Discretely trying to hide the fact that you were inching closer to him like a dog sniffing out a treat.
Whilst Morgans cologne smelled of coconut and sugar; not enough to be irritating to the nose.
Both you and Penelope's perfumes smelled nice and sweet, contrasting with the guys.
Penelope was blasting Kesha through the SUV, while Morgan attempted to turn it down without her noticing. Either she noticed or didn't care, allowing her voice to do the work for her as she embodied Kesha.
"We are just getting started, I promise. You should join us! Didn't Morgan draw the short stick for tonight? Leaves you perfectly able to get wasted with us,"
Morgan gave you a glare in the rearview mirror, not letting your mocking affect his driving as he tried his best to follow the law with his boss as his passenger. Hotch just shook his head as you unzipped your purse showing him the contents inside.
His eyebrow raised, he saw several colorful shooters clinking around in the small accessory adorning your body, a smile gracing your warming skin. You took out a bright green shooter, shoving it into his hands.
"What in the-"
"Pen. Catch." Penelope didn't even have to move, her hands expertly catching the pink shot you had picked out just for her. You opted for a blue one, knowing this flavor in specific masked the taste as best it could making it easier to down.
You raised your eyebrow back up at Hotch cracking your drink open, a soft sigh left his lips knowing you wouldn't back down. He proceeded to crack his open, whoops leaving the girls lips. Clinking your shot against his bringing the cold glass to your lips, allowing the burning sensation to trickle down your throat
Hotch was used to harder liquor, but something about the neon colored vodka was already making him feel a little warm. Shaking his head at the taste, putting the lid back on the drink as he watched you reach for another.
"Woah, sweet girl... you sure you can handle another?"
Your rolled your eyes at his concerning words, easily tossing another shooter back as you opened your mouth to show it was gone. Hotch felt a small smirk tug at his lips at the sight, adjusting himself in his seat subtly.
"I almost flunked out of college my freshman year because I was getting drunk every weekend. I learned my handful of tricks- I would put Dr. Reid to shame." Morgan whistled, making Garcia laugh as she reminisced on some of the stories you had told her. An ever-growing smirk graced your lips, re-applying a generous amount of lip gloss to your lips.
Hotch eyed the bubbly girl, as she made herself comfortable against the taller man. He spread his jean cladded legs as she plopped her purse on his lap, using him as a table rummaging through the contents. Choosing to ignore the sensation of her nimble fingers ghosting over his dark wash jeans, adjusting his position on the leather seat. She pulled out another shooter and mingled it into his hands, a small chuckle bubbling in his chest.
"You're going to have to show me one day, baby."
"Wouldn't you love to see that, sweet boy?"
Morgan smirked up at you as he pulled up to the valet who were excited to take the keys from your favorite Agent, sending a wink to the blushing girl holding the keys. You were about to open the door, almost jumping as you saw Hotch had already beaten you to it. Looking back and forth between the door and your now empty seat beside you, the grinning raven haired man made your heart skip a beat.
"How-"
"Your intoxicated state is making your reaction time slow," His deep voice hummed into your ear, his hands splaying across your back allowing his warmth to keep you from shivering. Hotch lent his arm out, grasping onto his bicep firmly as you made your way into the bar. The shooter you had given the older man tucked away in his jeans, holding your body close to ensure you wouldn't run off.
It didn't take long for Hotch have to glare at the wandering eyes of plenty of men who were attempting to undress you with their nasty eyes. He knew men were absolute garbage as time had gone by, but he knew that he would never let these ones especially anywhere near you tonight.
It didn't take long for you to find your other co-workers even in all of the chaos, the place bordering a club atmosphere. The bar was currently playing one of your favorite songs, allowing the music to guide your body. You let your grip loosen as you made a beeline towards JJ who was smiling widely up at you, a bright pink coating her cheeks. Your heels clicking mesmerizingly against the stone floor, having mastered the art in running in those strappy shoes.
"JJ!! I missed youuuu," You hurriedly wrapped your arms around her neck, pressing a sticky kiss onto her cheek. She let out a muffled laugh as she held you tighter. "Where is-"
"Spence? Right behind you, honey." The giggling girl whispered into your ear, you spun on your heel making eye contact with the man you had been thinking about all night. A smile made its way onto your lips, taking a seat beside the brunette.
As if he couldn't get anymore attractive.
The sight of his dark green cardigan bringing out the green in his hazel eyes, hidden behind his god forsaken sexy ass glasses.
What kind of test do they have to pass to work at the BAU? It seemed like every man and woman had to make your knees buckle to work there.
"Hiya Spence."
The flustered boy tucked his hair behind his ear, turning in his seat to give you his undivided attention. Your perfume infiltrating his nostrils, before having heard your voice. A smell he was all too keen on knowing, wetting his bottom lip nervously. "Oh h-hi!"
The conscious part of your brain attempted to send signals to your body to be smart, your drunk limbs ignoring it as you allowed your legs to entwine with his slack cladded leg closest to you. His breath hitching a small gasp leaving his pink lips.
Elle feigned a dramatic hand over her chest, her dress showing off her curves in all the right places. The girl walked over to you, your smile having not left your lips since getting in the car. Smacking a wet kiss on your dark haired friends cheek who just wrapped an arm around your waist. "We were about to send out a search party. We thought Morgan got you guys lost again,"
"Oh he most definitely did, I think the aftershave has made him lose some brain cells over the years." You teased the burly man, who shot you a glare reaching over the table to flick your forehead a gasp leaving your lips. You detangled your legs from Spencers missing the warmth almost as soon as you detached, sending a harsh kick to Morgan who hissed at your heels.
"Son of a bitch. Watch your back, sweet cheeks."
"Want me to kiss it better?" A small twinkle shone in his eyes, his usual flirty smirk making its way onto his face. You turned on your charm, resting your face on your hands as you batted your eyelashes at the man your glossy lips parted open. Everyone at the table watched in amusement as Morgan practically melted at her doe eyes looking up at him, leaning closer to her face.
"I would love nothing more-"
"I call dibs first, Chocolate Thunder." Penelope butted in, making her first appearance at the table a tray full of drinks. She handed you your signature drink, the vibrant color matching her outfit. Clapping your hands as you blew a kiss to the blonde, wrapping your lips around the straw humming happily at the cold liquid making its way down your throat.
"No need to call dibs when I've already kissed you, baby cheeks."
"You're not special, Derek. We've all kissed, sweets." All the girls threw in their words of agreement, a chuckle leaving Spencers lips as he watched the look of disbelief on Morgan's face. "Sweet as her name, she is."
"Don't make me kiss you on the mouth again, Pen."
"Maybe that's what I'm hinting at, sweet girl."
A burst of giggles left the girls mouths as they all grabbed ahold of the shots Garcia had bought everyone.
Well, everyone except Morgan.
She had grabbed something strong; wanting to ensure it did what it was intended to do. You had seen Spencer had also proceeded to throw back a shot a small wince leaving his lips. "You would think after 9,006 years, that we would know how to mask the taste of alcohol."
"I like the pain. Gives a little thrill, don't you think?" Tilting your head at the doctor whose eyes widened a little, his cheeks flushing pink. A small giggle left your lips placing your hand dangerously close to his thigh, turning your attention to the raven haired man beside you.
"What are you nursing there, Hotch?" He turned to his left, eyeing the flustered girl a soft chuckle leaving his lips as he showed her his glass. "Mind if I have a sip?"
"Of course. Go ahead." The girl gently took the glass from his hands, taking a small sip of the drink a soft hum leaving her lips. He felt his chest tighten at the sight of her lips on the same glass his were just on. She just grinned at the man, handing him back his jack and coke. "Not bad- too Hotch for me."
Gently rising from your chair at the table, gaining the attention of everyone at the table a grin already plastered on your face. Spencer eyed your radiating body, his brain turning to mush as he tried to focus on the words leaving your pretty lips. Chugging the rest of your cocktail, the cold feeling nice on your warming face. "Time to dance!"
Penelope wasted no time, dragging a more than ready Morgan onto the swarm of people on the dance floor. JJ and Elle had already partnered up, their swaying bodies entwined together. Leaving you in between Spencer and Hotch. Both who looked absolutely delicious-
Hold on- what?
Delicious?
I mean...
Hotch's black polo did absolute numbers for his muscular body. His biceps just about bulging out of the shirt, snug around his lean torso. Wanting nothing more than to wrap your arms around his waist. And don't even mention his gorgeous eyes, with their specks of green becoming visible the closer you got to him.
And then Spencer.
That boy looked like straight out of a rom com. His puppy eyes staring at you intently like nothing around you existed. His chiseled jaw and those puffy lips were all you could think about at work. His button ups fitting him just right, the cardigans about to swallow him whole wishing you were in them as well.
"Sweets?"
The sound of Hotchs raspy voice speaking broke you out of your trance, blinking away your borderline wet dream about your co-worker and superior. Taking notice of Spencers empty seat, turning to Hotch with a confused look on your face. "He went to the restroom. Everything okay? You were unresponsive there for a second."
"Y-yes. Sorry, I was- I don't even know. You guys both looked so good, my brain did an override." The words were spewing out of your mouth like muscle memory, a shocked expression filtering over the usually furrowed mans face. "How about that dance?"
"Oh no, I don't-"
"Hotchner, don't start. I was promised a dance,"
"-I think that was you doing the promising." You grabbed ahold of his wrist, tugging the protesting man whose eyes had grown soft. "You're awfully strong when you're drunk. Did you know that?"
"I think it's similar to when crack heads do crack, except without the crack." You shouted into his ear, the music practically making it near impossible to hear. Hotch just let a laugh slip out, his hands having found their home on your hips barely touching you, afraid he would mess it all up.
Pitbull had begun to blast through the club, your body swinging to the beat having known the rhythm a little too well for your liking. The clubs lights had gotten dark, except for the strobe lights and stage lights lighting up the crowd every now and then. You could see Penelope shouting the words at Morgan who bared an amused stare at the blonde, dancing with her drunken form the pink spotlight lighting up her blonde hair perfectly.
A whine left your lips at the lack of contact with your dance partner, pressing your body against the towering man above you knowing this exact situation must be written somewhere on what not to do with your boss. He almost halted his movements if it weren't for your hands finding his and wrapping his arms further around your waist. Hands finding their home around his neck, chills going down his spine as he felt how close you were to him.
The music took ahold of your body. Every beat sending your hips to follow half a second later, memorizing the way Hotch followed your every move.As if your bodies were made just for one another; you moved in synch with each other, neither of you having to give cues as if you guys had been doing this for years.
Hotch felt this body growing hotter the longer you were grinding up against him, a small line of guilt bubbling inside but his body seemed to be doing all the thinking for him. His hands tightening their grip on your hips as he pulled you impossibly closer to him a soft gasp leaving your lips. Your body swaying and turning in his grasp pressing your ass against his growing member, Hotch's head leaning into your neck.
You rolled your head back leaning against Hotch's muscular body, trying to see if it was your mind playing tricks on your or if it truly was what you thought it was poking against your ass.
Every touch felt- electric.
The pawing at your body from Hotch made your body writhe in his grasp, feeling yourself getting drunk in his touch. Shaking hands reaching behind you to find his head full of hair and run your fingers through his gelled hair, enjoying the soft rumble against his chest. Turning back around to face him, wondering what was running through his head right now.
Hotch must have know how crazy he looked as he felt. Scanning every inch of her face, cupping her face in his warm calloused hand tucking her hair away from her face.
He could see every tiny freckle, and scar on your face. The sparkly gloss coating your lips enticing him the longer you mouthed the words close to his chest. Every one of his senses were focused on you.
Your perfume.
Your body.
Your gorgeous eyes.
He couldn't look away-
"If you wanted to kiss me Hotch, you could have just asked,"
Before Hotch could lean down and press his awaiting lips on yours, you detached your limbs from the man a giant grin gracing your features. Waving at the approaching figure, tugging the brunette closer to you. The older man almost rolled his eyes, keeping his hands tucked into his pocket his fingers knocking with the shooter you had gifted him earlier.
"Spence! I was about to send out a search party,"
The blushing boy tried to stammer out a response, his eyes locking with Hotch's.
His boss- correction. His friend was staring at him as if he had just came out and told him he was the unsub on a case. Wiping his clammy hands against his dark slacks, wondering what he had interrupted.
"The line to the bathroom was long. If it weren't for the fact that I had to-"
"Did you know that Aaron is a good dancer?" You shouted in Spencers direction, the name slipping off your tongue sweet like honey.
Hotch turned to face the girl replaying the sound of his name falling off of her lips over and over again, hoping she would say it again. Spencer raised a surprised eyebrow at the cheesing girl, whose hold on him hadn't faltered.
"I'm not too surprised. His stature and athleticism point him in the direction of having better coordination than the average person."
"I have no idea what you just said! Maybe Pitbull is having some affect on my hearing,"
"Maybe we should go sit down, hm?" Hotch whispered into your ear, his breath fanning over your face. Nodding along to his words, grabbing ahold of his unsuspecting hand tugging them over to the back corner table you were sitting at. A soft sigh left your lips, as you reached for Hotch's glass tossing the rest of the drink back.
Spencer eyed your hand that was still holding onto Hotch's practically burning a hole into his much larger hand, a million thoughts coursing through his head. "Next one is on me, Aaron."
"Don't worry about it, sweet girl. Let me go buy another drink, I'll order you a water."
"What! I'm not even close to being done, please..." A pout found its way onto your face," Just one or two more."
Hotch couldn't say no to that face. "One more. Reid, want anything?"
"Can I just get a water, please?"
Hotch untangled your hand from his, his retreating figure hard to miss even with all the people surrounding him. Spencer took this chance to try to erase any progress Hotch had made, his figure seating itself right beside you. His shaking hand found its place on your thigh, a chocked sound leaving your lips eyeing the nervous boy standing before you. Your heart just about dropped into your stomach, a fluttering in your stomach as the guy you had been crushing on had made a move.
Please move it higher-
"I wish we could have had our dance, Spence... I'm sure you've got some more tricks up your sleeve I haven't seen."
"I don't think I would have been able to keep it professional if I got my hands on you,"
Fuck.
"What if I didn't want you too?"
You were playing with fire.
Knowing full well you had just basically had sex with your boss out on the dance floor, but your brain wanted them both.
And bad.
Spencers face heated up, his face leaning closer to yours feeling your chest tighten as he almost brushed his lips against yours his warm minty breath burning your eyes slightly. Holding your breath as you felt him pull back a confused look on your face, taking notice of a looming figure coming your way. The feeling of your blood rushing to your already burning face made you feel a little faint, fanning your face to try to cool off.
Morgan raised an eyebrow at the pair of you a knowing look on his face, clapping Spencers shoulder with a smirk on his lips. "My man. I never knew you had it in you,"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Oh, okay. I didn't know it was a secret, sweet girl. Does this mean the nicknames are off limits now?"
You giggled at the reddening of Spencers face, nudging him playfully. "Not at all, baby. But, Spencer is right. We have no idea what you're talking about."
"What is Spencer right about again?"
"Oh, him and our sweets are-"
Spencer had read your mind, sending a swift kick towards Morgan who let out a yelp turning around and giving the brunette a harsh punch to the arm. Hotch felt his face tense at the words Morgan was insinuating, hoping Morgan was just playing a joke on him taking the seat closest to you leaving you sandwiched in between your two wet dreams once more.
"Don't tell me you're all out of dances, sweet girl. I still haven't gotten mine."
"Oh trust, I'm not. I was just waiting on a good song to come on-"
As if someone was listening in on your conversation, Club Can't Handle Me came on a fan favorite between you and Morgan. A loud laugh leaving both of your mouths as he made his way over to you dragging you over to the huge crowd that you had just escaped. Morgans hands expertly found their place on your hips, having danced with the famous flirt many times.
The way he grinned against your body had you almost a mess, allowing your legs to slip around his thigh dancing on him as if your life depended on it. By this point there was a layer of sweat on both of your bodies, making you look pornographic on the dance floor. His tight v-neck showed off his muscles well in the dim lighting of the bar, his arms practically engulfing you.
"You're too hot to be here by yourself,"
"Shut up, Morgan."
The pretty boy leaned into the cusp of your ear, his lips brushing up against you. "If looks could kill, your two lover boys would have killed me tenfold."
Peeking over his shoulder, noticing the evident glares of Hotch and Spencer who looked like they were 2 seconds away from walking over. "Want to help me make them make the first move?"
"You're an absolute minx, you know that?"
You knew Morgan was right, but the alcohol in you just wanted them to walk over and make you theirs. The music had changed to a slow sexier song, knowing if you were to do anything it would have to be now when the music would show everything off.
Closing your eyes allowing the music to guide you, putting every ounce of your being into grinding against Morgan. It didn’t take long of Morgan putting his hands closer to your ass before a cough interrupted the pair of you.
“Mind if I but in, Morgan?”
─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───
a/n: guys this came to me in the middle of the night and i did NOT stop writing until 5 am. it just kept coming out. and FUCK, i am gnawing at the bars of my enclosure rn
a/n: GUYS WHAT THE HECK! i am literally writing part two right now, you guys have been so nice to me :,)
#criminal minds#imagine#female reader#reader x spencer reid#reader x hotch#spencer reid#aaron hotchner#derek morgan#i couldn’t stop myself#i’m crying#i stayed up past my bedtime for this#dance#borderline smut#screaming#who let me do this#penelope garcia#spencer reid imagine#aaron hotchner imagine#criminal minds x reader#x reader#lip gloss#criminal minds fanfiction#my fic
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I am not a psychologist so I have no clue if this is just my own crackpot theory or what. And my apologies if I’m speaking out of my ass here.
We were not made for a fallen world. We were made for Eden. Since we have to live in this world corrupted by sin, the brain does what it has to in order to survive.
A toddler doesn’t know what “hot” means, until one day you warn the child not to touch a plate because it’s “hot,” they touch anyways, they feel the sting, and now they understand what “hot” means. The brain, now acknowledging this is something that can be a threat, has an immediate response to “hot.” Anytime someone says “hot,” we immediately recoil and make sure we don’t touch whatever is believed to be hot. The brain is simply trying to survive.
I think there’s a similar thing happening with trauma response. It’s the brain doing the same thing, but to such an extreme degree that it’s almost impossible to function. If someone survives a near fatal car crash, they may panic when they go near a car. Why? Because the brain has learned this thing to be an immediate and serious threat. The brain is now trained to fear and recoil. If you lived in a war zone and learned to sleep with one eye open so to speak, the brain is now trained to sense danger at every turn, especially when you’re in such a vulnerable state as sleep. You’re living in a constant state of anxiety because you expect a fatal threat. It’s why sudden noises and movements can trigger anxiety.
The brain is doing what it does. It adapts to perceived threats for survival. This heightened state of anxiety is deemed necessary by the brain, but we were not made to live in such a state. We cant. So the brain is, ironically, slowly killing itself. The brain is rewired and burned out and always looking for that next serious threat. It’s always reminding us that the threat looms. It’s where the subconscious lives. It’s why there’s constant anxiety, why there’s nightmares.
Of course, this can be exacerbated if the trauma is accompanied by severe grief or guilt.
This brings me to my point. If you would not tell someone to just pray the cancer away, I don’t think you can tell them to just pray the trauma away. We’re talking about a real physiological problem happening.
I think grief and guilt can be assuaged by the gospel. But the brain’s inner working itself? It’s a medical problem the same as any other. God absolutely can heal trauma same as cancer, but sometimes he doesn’t. Faith can absolutely bring about peace in hardships and give us the strength to carry on, but it’s not a guarantee that God will remove the hardship. That would be prosperity gospel.
And with all of this we can also recognize that certain treatments or habits may help relieve symptoms without fully curing, it exists on a medical spectrum.
And I think this is true about a lot of mental illness.
For the record, I think most mental illness in modern America is actually spiritual illness. And I think most psychologists are looney tunes. But people abusing a certain field of study and being stupid and misdiagnosing doesn’t negate the field of study as a whole.
If every sick person who walks into a doctors office no matter the symptoms gets diagnosed with cancer, it means the doctor is a quack and we have a problem of over diagnosis of a disease. But it doesn’t mean the disease isn’t real and that a certain percentage of the population doesn’t actually suffer from it. That would be a downright foolish thought.
Hormones, brain function, all of it can affect the mind. The brain is a complex organ. We still can’t fully understand it. And I don’t think we ever will. We know the brain can affect the mind. If it didn’t, people with TBIs would never suffer from sudden mental illness or personality shifts.
It seems wholly unchristian to deny the reality of both our body and the fallen state of the world.
#I mean we can debate treatments and that all day#I for one think exposure therapy goes a lot further than talk therapy most of the time#because if the brain is wired wrongly#we need to actively rewire it#and certain things come about not because of a certain event#but by birth#just like someone might be born with a hole in their heart#it’s possible for someone to be born with a brain not functioning right#but these are all a million different rabbit trails#but boy I am tired of the ‘just be a good Christian and you won’t have problems’#mindset of MacArthur and crew
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Katya / Goncharov
#yeah ik ive posted them before sorry but i REALLY like how these look together#martin scorsese#goncharov#artists on tumblr#illustration#unreality#<— posters for a ‘movie’ that doesn’t actually exist but is a tumblr meme in which everyone pretends it does&makes content for it#fascinating how we’re immediately personable w katya by knowing her first name while only knowing goncharov’s surname keeps us at a distanc#combined with him being the only major character to go by a moniker it emphasizes just how much he's been consumed by the role he plays#who is goncharov? does he know and keep it secret? or has he too lost his sense of identity?#it's reflected in these posters as we SEE katya but goncharov remains elusive - yet clearly time is running out for them both#lakjdklf ok im done now i never post meta on here so im having fun with the fictional movie#btw I updated both of the illustrations compared to the original posts but will leave those as they were#woudl be cool if my post showed up. u can do it tumblr
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shuake works because it feels like akechi's the only one who listens to akira and prompts the otherwise quiet leader to talk.
in a game about defiant teens making their voice heard, goro akechi listens to akira's voice from the get-go. out of detective-sleuthing/work duties, sure, but over time it's clear that akechi genuinely finds akira interesting.
in fact, akechi's confidant route regardless of which game is being played starts with him deeming akira the antithesis to his thesis, a "worthwhile debate partner". akechi values joker's opinions.
its always nice to see people point out that in that one 3rd sem phone call with akechi, its the most involved akira's been in a conversation in-game. i myself remember inserting a lot more input during that story-sequence which usually i can put on autoplay otherwise. akechi, in a whole different reality, still seeks out joker's opinions on it. it's like he trusts no one but him.
and imo this gives a lot of character to akira. he talks the most with akechi. the quietest people have the most on their minds, and it shows with akira. but akira never gets a say in anything, and who would listen? he's less than a nobody in reality since society dictated that. so he pointedly made himself silent, hiding his thoughts beneath an impenetrable mask. during important story moments, akira favors doing more than saying. his teammates and confidants are all directly inspired by his actions over the course of the game.
but with akechi, it's different. actions seem to take a backseat as they continue with their verbal back-and-forth. in rank 7 of royal, they play pool while talking, but it's clear to the outsider that the focus is in the layered conversation they're having. they primarily talk everytime akechi's in the coffee shop, because they dont usually see eachother in their busy schedules. it's not just "hi, hello, how are you?" with them but "i find you and everything you stand for interesting. let's talk more."
there's something to be said about how two people with vastly different and opposing views seek eachother out to further discuss things instead of antagonizing eachother. its why maruki said "despite being enemies, your relationship was never based on hatred or ill will".
their relationship was never a one-sided thing. akechi helps joker as much as joker helps him... arguably more. he eggs joker on, shows him that he can do better. otherwise, the leader would remain stagnant and unchallenged. there is no progress where there is no thesis and-- you can finish the rest.
#persona 5#shuake#goro akechi#akira kurusu#been defensively quiet lately and was thinking how nice it is to have someone listen to and validate my thoughts.#maybe not always agree but. making me feel like my words are worthwhile#aishi.docx#and then i realized thats exactly what akechi does with joker. damn rivals...#they should exist irl too...#oh to have a smug pretty n intelligent boyfriend telling me im smart while he twirls his spoon in the tea i made him...#anyway i really like the topic of joker's quietude cause i feel like it makes sense that he wasnt always like that at all.#him becoming quiet after getting shut down over and over is like. so humbling and a real epidemic i fear...#this is a personal post more than anything i feel HSJDBJS me giving joker my fears and pains. but actually joker copied ME#(said like a totally normal person)
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I feel like I'm going to throw up, there's something so wrong with me and with the world. It's not okay, how can anyone be okay
#domt mind me just realizing that i will never be able to be a good person because good people dont exist#and the world makes criminals of us all#what do i do? theres no way to heal the damage of my existence#i cant handle this i wasnt made for this#i truly believe humanity will kill itself off either on purpose or on accident and when it does i just pray we dont take every other species#with us#i think humans are evolving and discovering things we cant handle knowing#but only some of us will hold onto that knowledge and let it drive us insane#the others will ignore it and continue to only be insane in the same way they always have been#this all sounds crazy i sound crazy but i promise it makes sense to me#and it fills me with unparalleled dread#i cant even think about it without Dissociating
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"Before this world meets its end, let me tell you something quaint. 2,000 years ago, I dabbled in literature, much like you. I was a poet, weaving words into countless tales. Those verses would come to me effortlessly, and I would lose myself writing all manners of beautiful stories. One day, I finally completed my masterpiece. A story that would be told throughout history. But... That is when I discovered... Every single poem I had weaved... They had already been written in the Almighty Book. Everything I thought I had created was merely handed to me. All I had done was etch them onto a piece of paper. Humans cannot create, for they do not possess the ability to!"
#kamen rider saber#kamen rider storious#storious#storious (saber)#storious (megid)#kamen rider#kamen rider saber spoilers#saber spoilers#flashing lights#flashing lights tw#tokuedit#please do not repost#umbrella.edits#umbrella.gifs#umbrella.posts#i find his story fascinating so here's a set dedicated to it#once again i am thinking of how knowing everything is planned out makes a person lose a sense of self#if i cannot create can i do anything or am i just a mindless tool used by the universe as it pleases?#if something is predetermined to be made does that mean that it was always going to be made? did my existence have no meaning?#are all the things i feel and all the things i desire just illusions placed before me so i may do as the universe says?#am i person? could anyone take my place? does my art matter? can i never be my own person? can i never feel my own feelings?#will i ever have anything that is mine alone or will i forever have to share with an ever-lingering fate written by the universe?
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batman secret files: clownhunter
(ID in alt!)
#on one hand i can see why they would want to make jason a mentor to bao and all because parallels#but on the other.... i think jason and bao would been boring real fast#jason is like... older brother coded. bao needs his shitty uncle (khoa) it makes things funnier#plus i feel like once again its trapping jason in the ‘i cant exist without my life revolving around the joker’ loop hes been in#which is annoying and just wrong when people imply that to bruce and like... i get why jason it may be more true since yknow.#his life was cut short by him then he was forcefully brought back to life and it's personally traumatizing#but i still think it makes for such boring writing and doesn't allow the character to ever grow or change.#they wont let jason exist without that joker b-plot and if he takes on a kid that also been personally traumatized by him#then jason wont be allowed to potentially grow from it unless they make it about him caring about bao more and moving on because of that#but also... bao is like... 14....#him having khoa as a mentor allows him to have more opportunities and experiences so he doesn't become joker based#like hes always gonna have that hatred for him. his life was changed by him and his parents murder.#but thatd be the ripple effect to cause him to be a vigilante and everything (like how it did with bruce) instead of his entire life#revolving around just the clowns and never growing from it. gotta have a nice contrast y'know??#does any of this make sense? no. I'm sleepy and have a migraine.#am i gonna post it anyways and cringe in the morning when i reread it and realize people also can perceive my rambling brain mush? yes </3#c: batman secret files: clownhunter#crypt's panels#jason todd#red hood#bao pham#clownhunter
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for the love of god can someone get me a link to that “are aro cishet men lgbt” poll so i can vote yes on it. please. for my own sanity
#me tag🍭#if this is how you found out about that stupid ass poll existing im sorry.#on the bright side every single person on my dash has been dunking on it#glad we all have common sense#''does being queer make you queer'' Shut the FUCK up. Goddddd
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okay, i might let people in
#i’ve been nonstop talking to this person for a few days now#like nonstop we’ll have multiple convos going at once and having to use voice messages to catch up to everything lol#our conversations have yet to die since the first one we’ve had#it feels very very very refreshing to find someone who can keep up#and we have so many things in common but like i’ve always found myself to be a lil weird and have out of the ordinary interests#not trying to say that ‘i’m not like other girls’ LMFAO but it’s hard to find ppl with this many things in common#like one or two things i get but we’ve been able to connect on so many things#even like chronic pain which like is nice to find someone who understands#so now i’m like actually excited for the first time about meeting someone#i’m very very excited and they’re so so so sweet#i feel like i can always tell who’s been in therapy because we tend to carry conversations in a similar way … does that make sense??? 🤣#like u know how there’s ‘gentle parenting’#i feel like there’s a specific way people who have been in therapy speak to others#they’re always so mindful of boundaries and also reciprocal#in conversations#we also have the same taste in music which is wild cuz i listen to every genre in existence and music from many different languages/culture#our spotify blend goes crazy 🤣🤣#we’ve only been talking for a week so i’m trying not to get my hopes up but im just excited 😆😆😆#lmao but like even if we just end up becoming friends i’m still happy to meet someone who’s so similar :D#i’ve been wanting friends who also struggle with the same things so we can do selfcare things together or maybe just chill on high pain day#and we will know how to be there for each other a little better than ppl who don’t get it.. i crave that real bad 🥲#i realize i sound delulu as fuck cuz i haven’t even met them in person but i can already tell we’re going to get along 😌😌😌😌#i’m aware of how delulu i sound and maybe i’m getting my hopes up but it truly does feel like i was waiting for someone like this 🥹
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don't feel like spreading the poll of the week because theres enough negativity and pointed-ness around, however
#can't fault SOTO#not from a 'great for my characters in particular' standpoint#IBS however almost doesn't exist for my commander's story#my characters took a large backseat during all of that and simply barely interacted with it#SOTO gave me the excuse to pull the worst [figuratively speaking] character i have that's still alive and give him meaningful development#the mute-ness works for him#he's not speaking outloud about how he feels ever#in fact some of the only voice lines that we get that're bangers were detrimental for him in particular because it DOES assume carrying -#the same commander through to be wayfinder#which makes sense; but whatever#IBS did nothing for me personally beyond give me a map that i like to farm sometimes and give me even more fear of comp PVE until recently#other than LWS1 which i didn't get to experience live and IBS; my charas were present and doing things in everything else#so my choice is purely down to 'this did nothing for the development of my OCs'#which i rank kinda highly; more so than a lot of other things in a game narratively driven by the fun lil guys you make i guess
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sorry if I don’t remember your name or conversations/experiences or basic things about myself, every few weeks my brain gets factory reset and I have to relearn how to be alive
#lighthearted but also serious bc what is going on here buddy#been feeling weird as hell these past few months#like I can remember some stuff… but it doesn’t feel normal to forget the names of anyone I haven’t seen/heard the name of in a few days#or forget about basic interests and personality traits and experiences and feel like a blank slate every day#idk like ultimately life goes on and I’m happy to live in the moment but it would be nice to understand why my brain is doing this#just thinking#meposting#I think my brain just. does this sometimes when I’m stressed. which is annoying#I recall (lmao) feeling similar during earlier parts of life so this isn’t *new* it’s just unexpected and much more disruptive as an adult#I’m feeling better about it than I was. after like. acknowledging it. bc my mind has not always felt like a sieve it isn’t always this bad.#whatever#I’ll tag as dissociation just in case it’s related/reminiscent and ppl don’t want to see that#dissociation#me and her go way back… haven’t seen each other in years though#she wasnt all bad! coping mechanisms can provide relief and a sense of safety#and as far as coping mechanisms go it’s not the most unhealthy. though it ranks high in ‘socially stunting’#I kind of miss the distance sometimes to be honest everything’s just So Much all the time#I’m so solid now#so stuck in the ruts of capitalism#fuck capitalism#I wish my imagination didn’t feel so dulled#sorry I love talking#and I don’t miss dissociation when I feel mentally present because I feel so Here with the people and things I love but rn?#it’s like a lose-lose bc I am not Here nor am I untethered. I’m heavy yet hold nothing#I enjoy being dramatic/poetic about it — I feel pretty fine. I just hope this isn’t a permanent and/or long-term state of existence.#like it makes me awful at my job I went from remembering a solid amount of the student body’s names (built up over a few years) to. like 5.#overnight it felt like. like Stressful Thing happened and I went to work and I couldn’t remember anyone’s names.#can’t believe I have to start from fucking scratch AGAIN I’d be better off quitting and working at a different school#bc at least then my lack of knowledge/remembering is justified rather than strange and seemingly rude#I’m getting better now but at the beginning of this it was blue screen in my brain all the time
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It clearly wasn’t important to you (Patreon)
#Doodles#SCII#Helix#Dexter Favin#Max Vyer#ZEX#''It was a mistake''#That's another person in there Dex! Even if he knew what you were talking about he wasn't the one who experienced it!#That said even with their dynamic how Would ZEX react to the implication of him already being involved with a human#Presumably this would be set before Everything Terrible(? Does such a time exist? Probably not if he's wearing that shirt haha)#Something of a return to form of drawing someone else's mind in a body that emotes differently! Haha#Max's body with large and dark eyebags looks strange to me :0#It's especially funny because I /have/ drawn ZEX with what I'd consider ''Max's body'' for some of my concept/outlining sketches#But that body feels like his! It's like - his own molecules rearranged into a similar shape it was never Max or anyone else there#But here - it's weird! How does he look so different when the inspiration source is the same!!#Context I guess lol#Speaking of designs I'm pretty sure I keep making Dex too fluffy lol slightly out of control floof#All my fluff shapes have gotten very big! I blame Scriabin lol#Nothing a few studies couldn't work towards ♪ Give it a sense of weight that'd be nice#Poor Dex and poor Max and poor ZEX - none of them make it out unscathed! Some certainly worse than others
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ppl will be explaining how a difference is a difference & not a Deviation from a Superior state, & people who are the ones considered Default Normal (superior) will be like "okay....to be polite....i Might say i consider Some aspects of Some people's existence mere 'difference' & not being less than me...." as like hey i'm a Benevolent god. i still actually get to consider you worse & don't have to "humor" anything that challenges my superiority. if you only want everything to fit into the norm then it will all come back to upholding the norm. thinking of people's analysis of their own realities as equally legimate as being like Obscure, Irrelevant, Superficial & then using that reasoning to justify dismissing them. same as worrying that the [Different Lessers (Others(tm))] as Everywhere = a manifestation of the awareness that, yeah, respecting them as equals Does threaten your norm which is smothering everything everywhere. ppl who need to lock in the idea of Borders around personhood like um Yes they're all delineated separate Identities outside any hierarchy & so i think it's relevant to for some reason push back against "ohh so now Everyone's queer" like why not. why couldn't they be. what if they were. what if queerness was everywhere b/c it's ideological not a cordoned off Alternative Identity that is accommodated by focusing on Love(tm) as the new border around whose existence we might begrudgingly accept at arm's length (i.e. being otherwise "normal"! just imagine swapping out the binary gender (or, deep breath, presumed Private Parts) of one partner in an exclusive romantic lifelong nuclear family marriage, & that is Gay / Trans Rights. still gross but maybe we can do it, as long as they don't talk about it or shove it in our faces or even exist for more than one encounter w/us in our lives b/c what are the odds). evergreen laughing at someone suggesting ableist logic might be embedded in language of past & present b/c it's just So little to ask for that it's irrelevant but it's also So much to ask for that of course i'm not gonna do anything more than pass it along like "this is why i don't take ableism seriously" like yeah it's the disabled randos like it's the individual cringe teens(tm) ruining [the cishets would take Gender seriously otherwise!!!] & that's why you won't think about it or do anything about it & continue being comfortable with the norm & resent that actually their Difference is Less & disability is something worse that ppl "excuse" & all these ways that people are & all these things that they do are funny & weird & inexplicable & etc & one can't possibly be cruising along perpetuating a hierarchy with a sense that you're reasonable, well meaning, kind, etc etc & thus Justified, systemic oppression definitely wants to maximize how uncomfortable & arduous it feels to everyone rather than push to make it more streamlined & rewarding to embrace, or at least accept, whatever superiority over others you're afforded
#circled around to lovelessness as a lens there. so long as one was loving. so long as one wasn't consciously malicious#really just mask off about keeping the same perspective of Superiority when conflating disability & ppl ''making excuses''#same as like e.g. that ppl consider everything an autistic person does as being Bad / Wrong / Worse. (this includes ''unskilled''!!!)#(crushing the Social Skills(tm) framework in talking abt allistic difference in my fist)#such that they think sm1 saying Autistic!! is then something they might be unfairly Beholden to to Put Up With their Wrongness#at special times in special scenarios....rather than like in some contexts you are no more ''right'' than the other party#different groups & cultures whose Norms Standards & Expectations could render You presumed rude thoughtless pushy etc#obvious overlaps to consider re: the Norms of like english speaking as ''universal'' someone noticeably speaking it as nth language?#time to Presume their ideas & contributions are Less. if they had the good brain like you their fluency would render their linguistic#Wrongness in having a diff 1st language invisible thus irrelevant. like the ''ideal'' for disability! as the ''ideal'' for anyone Passing#in any way! queer ppl surely all want to be as proximate to cishet ideals (just as cishet ppl should!) nonwhite ppl to Ideal White#women's rights = Proving they're As Good As men. ladies you're using too many exclamation points!! be Confident be Pushier!!#but ofc nobody actually wants the Others(tm) to be Equal. they're just saying ''it's your innate Wrongness that means you Aren't''#the ableism logic in everything. men just Are better at xyz. oh we Can abuse autists...into being as proximate to allistic as possible!!#just actually means ''oh we Can abuse autists.'' the ''correctness'' is your Difference ''intruding'' less into allistic existence#force you to be harmed & diminished all day then save your meltdowns for when you're alone & out of the way#ppl's tweets like ''when ppl say 'omg too sensitive ofc i wasn't talking abt disabled ppl!' like yeah no shit b/c you never think of#disabled ppl'' like yeah most people idk aren't making their life's agenda to stop everyone from saying Stupid#but like believe me people organically sense the Vintage R words when you get called Idiot in exactly the same spirit & purpose#i mean that's so rworded as in that's so gay!! cmon!! & it's fine if you don't say either to gay ppl or. or. [insert the office quote]#oh i don't call um 20th c disabled ppl morons it's bad taste!! but b/c i use it Figuratively in the present it's fine it's so Different#fr i can't remember like. an article w/1 matter of fact sentence from a doctor using a [now Just a childish insult!!] as Diagnostic Label#for someone's disability & it still registered like ice water in the face. presumably no ''especial'' Malice just matter of fact!#it wasn't ''idiot'' it may have been ''moron'' fr. the vintage ''factual'' r word is There plain as day#like yeah ofc the ableism gets channeled into alternate language. & then complaints abt that is like UGH CMON!!!#like idk shouldn't you be fine using the R word then too? not really sweating this issue thee most all thee time either but like#it's not sooo funny even if someone seems pressed extensively abt it. not that hard to in fact just not use all these words all the time#ppl will be throwing out their ableism w/o Any labels talking about how Weird Offputting Etc someone acts so you can Tell they're bad....#and yeah you should think abt that. anytime. the [difference used to categorize ''other'' is Just difference] Is Everywhere All The Time#the idea it can & should be ''contained'' for especial limited specific occasions (when you're feeling Nice!) = upholding the status quo
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