#you know if this happens again i should write less
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Miss missing you | Charles Leclerc x Reader
Genres | Angst, Hurt.
Word count | 2.1K
Warnings | Breakup, depressing thoughts, mentions of cheating.
Summary | Reader wakes up the day after her breakup with Charles and reflects on their relationship. Inspired by the song "Miss Missing You" by Fall Out Boy.
Author's note | Sorry for being criminally addicted to writing sad things.
Don't panic, no, not yet
The living room shutter is closed. Impenetrable.
She has no idea how long she's been like this, slumped on her couch in the dark, her face irritated by the relentless assault of her tears. Outside, she knows life has gone on without her. She suspects the sun has risen, like every morning. That darkness has given way to light, like every morning. She even heard her neighbors in the hallway, heading to work. Like every morning.
Taking a deep breath, she feels her heart and throat tighten, tears doubling. She didn't even know she had that much water in her body. It's not just an ordinary morning. It's the first of many mornings where she will wake up with her heart in pieces.
I know I'm the one you want to forget
She remembers, a few years ago, listening to Taylor Swift's "Mr. Perfectly Fine" for days on a row. She remembers cursing Joe Jonas, she even remembers feeling so sorry for Taylor. What kind of guy breaks up with his girlfriend over the phone?
Well, Charles, apparently.
She's not stupid, not blind, not even a little naive.
She had felt it coming. Had noticed him slowly drifting away. The calls were less frequent, and the ones she managed to intercept, shorter. She knows there was someone else. Maybe multiple someones. They'd somehow stopped talking about him, about her, about them. They only talked about races, cars, airplane trips. That's the only thing that seemed to keep them together. The only thing that had brought them together in the first place. She, the daughter of the CEO of one of Ferrari's sponsors. Him, the one who wore the suit with the logo printed on it.
Cue all the love to leave my heart,
It's time for me to fall apart
She wished her heart would close. She wished she could block his access to it. She wished she could reclaim it, as one might retrieve the keys to an apartment once shared. But that bastard remains wide open. It's almost embarrassing, the way her heart, cruelly empty, hopes to be filled again. To feel his warmth once more. To beat for him again.
Her mind has stopped functioning, but her heart, somehow, hasn't stopped. It keeps beating, selfishly. It keeps her alive. For what? To feel the hurt, the betrayal, the despair? Honestly, it's not worth the effort. The poor thing should have just stopped.
Now you're gone, but I'll be okay,
Your hot whiskey eyes have fanned the flame
She's young. She's had flings, but she's always been the one to end them. Charles was her first serious relationship. The only significant one, actually. She didn't think the pain would be so raw, so physical. She feels like she can sense her heart crumbling a little more each time she thinks of him. She feels it in her chest, swelling, taking up space, trying to escape. It wants to leave her body. To break free from this darkened, wounded brain that suffocates it.
She's not against the idea. It can leave. She can function without it. She's almost convinced of it, if that's what it takes to feel alive again. To feel like her again.
Maybe I'll burn a little brighter tonight,
Let the fire breathe me back to life
Her heart isn't the first to be broken. Won't be the last.
She's heard stories from friends, from close ones, who've gone through breakups. Today, she feels so foolish for feeling so little concern about those stories back then. She's always been a listening ear, an unwavering support. She's sat in bars, cafés, bedrooms, listening to stories of betrayal and broken promises, and she simply didn't believe it would ever happen to her. As if she were above the laws. Above all that. She remembers listening to tales of broken hearts like children listen to myths of dragons, of wizards, of magic.
That's what it was for her. Fantasy.
Something so unreal, so inconceivable.
Even though it hurts, she has sworn to let herself feel everything. The good as well as the bad. She knows that one day, she will look back on this period of her life, and she won't be overwhelmed by sorrow and pain anymore. But today, she has to go through it, let the flames lick her body to better heal her wounds later.
Baby you were my picket fence,
I miss missing you, now and then
She'd never introduced a boyfriend to her family. Never envisioned a future with anyone. Never looked at houses with anyone. But with him, she did. A few months ago, while strolling on the hills of Monaco, she'd passed by a gate behind which a stone path led to a discreet little house. She'd fallen in love with the garden bordered by trees and flowers. She'd liked the color of the gate surrounding the property. She'd even found charm in the slightly crooked chimney protruding from the roof. She'd taken a photo of the "For Sale" sign and sent it to Charles. He had responded with a series of emojis (a face with hearts for eyes, sparkles, a star, the rest she can't remember). He had promised to call to set up a visit.
She would never walk down the stone path.
Chlorine kissed, summer skin,
I miss missing you, now and then
She's never been drawn to wealth. She was born into it. Penthouses, luxury cars, diamonds hold no charm in her eyes. She's always been searching for more authentic, more simple things.
One summer when Charles had suggested a yacht outing, the lovers had ended up on a poorly patched-up rowboat that was taking on water. The monacan had complained all afternoon, but she still remembers the sensation of lying against him, against his warm, salty skin, alone in the world in their small boat. A feeling that no amount of money could ever buy. A feeling that no amount of money could ever get her back.
Sometimes before it gets better,
The darkness gets bigger
What had begun as sweet and innocent had taken a turn.
Times were tough. His job was demanding. Exhausting. She did her best to support him, to show him he could lean on her anytime he needed. He wouldn't talk. Little by little, she was abandoning more and more things from her daily life to dedicate herself to his. His stability. His success. His worries. Sometimes, she felt like she was losing herself, but she knew it was temporary. She thought she would soon get the old Charles back.
Even when he started going out late.
Even when he started coming home late.
Even when he started not coming home at all.
The endless suffering hadn't brought her anything.
In fact, it had taken everything from her.
The person that you'd take a bullet for,
Is behind the trigger
She knew the signs, had seen them in her own parents. When they ate together, he could go through the entire meal without meeting her gaze. When she placed her hands on his body, he would sometimes shiver. Not the shiver of anticipation from the early days. The kind that suggested he didn't deserve the display of affection.
Her own friends seemed oblivious to the situation. "I ran into Charles yesterday, at the club," "I saw Charles in town with a friend", "Aren't you with Charles today?". Were they trying to pretend everything was fine to protect her? Or were they already distancing themselves from a situation they didn't want to witness?
Oh, we're fading fast,
I miss missing you, now and then
She pinpointed the breaking point as her sister's wedding. How ironic, she'd thought. Celebrating love, respect, and unity when I feel none of these things in my own relationship. Charles had arrived late, his hair disheveled, tie slightly askew. She had felt tears burning behind her eyes, had bitten her cheek to hold back from exploding in the middle of the church. She refused to believe that he had done that to her. That he had disrespected her on this day, in this place. Her entire family had cast a glance in her direction, had observed the way Charles had slipped between the guests to sit next to her.
Without a glance.
Without a touch.
Her sister, speech in hand, had taken a few seconds to start. "With you by my side, I know I can face anything," she had started saying to her husband, letting her eyes meet the teary ones of her little sister.
Making eyes at this husk, around my heart,
I see through you and we're sitting in the dark
He told her everything, recounted everything to her. From what he felt in the car during a race to his latest argument with his brother. She read him like an open book, could anticipate every word, every gesture, every thought, even. To joke around, she often said she knew him better than she knew herself. Upon reflection, they got together when they were eighteen. Had she even had time to get to know herself, or had she cowardly built herself around him?
The idea of pursuing her life's journey without him terrified her. She didn't know who she was, who she wanted to be. She didn't even know if she liked herself. She sometimes wondered if he knew her as well as she knew him. If he knew her favorite color, her favorite song, her favorite season. She always ended up pushing those somber thoughts away, reminding herself that these concerns were those of a schoolgirl, and got back to her duties. To taking care of him.
So give me your filth, make it rough,
Let me, let me, trash your love
She was gentle, with a calm nature, almost maternal.
She never lost her composure, never raised her voice. But she had yelled that day. When they arrived home after the church ceremony. She would never forget, and he probably wouldn't either, how her voice had broken when she had shouted three words, three little words that had been enough to shatter everything. "Who is she?".
She, who admired him so much, who thought of him as a man of the purest and most sincere nature. She had given him a chance to repent. He hadn't seized it, hanging his head low. That day, facing her anger, the pain of a betrayed woman, she'd found him so small that he was almost ridiculous. He hadn't responded, of course. Hadn't said a word.
I will sing to you everyday,
If it will take away the pain
She'd stayed. She wasn't sure if love made her do it. Perhaps it was out of habit. Or masochism. But she had stayed, and life had resumed just as it was before, for a few weeks. They had started waking up side by side again, sharing their day over a meal again.
Making love, again. She hadn't even realized they had stopped touching each other, desiring each other. How long had it lasted? A week? A month? Six?
He played the piano in the evening, proclaiming a love strong and indestructible over the keys, letting his fingers glide from white to black, filling the apartment with sounds and colors that had disappeared. Of feelings that had disappeared.
Oh, and I heard you've got it, got it so bad,
'Cause I am the best you'll ever have
She had let herself dream of the life before.
A life where Charles had only touched her, only tasted her. A life where she didn't discreetly grab his phone every night when his breathing indicated he was asleep. A life where she didn't send messages to Carlos at all hours of the day and night to find out where he was, with whom he was when she wasn't there. A life where her sister didn't regularly tell her how worried she was about her, finding her too thin, too stressed, too distracted.
So, she had left. She had left the spare keys he had given her on the dining table. She had fled his apartment and returned to hers, the one she had just planned on returning the keys to the owner, ready to move in permanently with him. She had spent three days alone, spending entire days in the dark. Ignoring the messages and calls of her mother, her father, her sister. Carlos, too.
Baby you were my picket fence,
By the end of the third day, he had finally called, and after three rings, she had picked up.
Neither of them had spoken for several seconds.
Then, he had done it. For the first time in months, he had been honest with her.
"It's not working anymore," he had sighed into the phone. "I can't do it anymore."
She had hung up.
Lain down on the sofa.
Waited for the day to save her from the night.
I miss missing you, now and then,
Now and then.
#f1#f1 2024#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#formula 1#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x female reader#carlos sainz#fall out boy#miss missing you
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Serenity
Author's note: Sorry I've been absent for too long. I just had no idea about what to write or just didn't had the enough inspiration. Because you can't write just to write, you know? You have to imagine the scenario, feel it even if you haven't experienced something like that in real life, etc. I saw a comment about a bath while it's raining (I think) and that's what I'll be doing.
Warnings: Fluff, suggestive?
Recently, the weather in New York had become humid. To the point that certain streets were flooded and such. Today was no exception. But on this night, you were not alone. The news had mentioned that there would be a thunderstorm, that it wouldn't rain much, and that it wasn't expected to last long. But they were wrong and nature decided to throw out the UNO reverse card. The rain hit the streets, cars, buildings, etc. hard. There was no shortage of thunder, there were times when it almost left you deaf because of how loud it sounded. The flash of some lightning would take you by surprise and scare you, so that later thunder would come and make the perfect combo.
An hour ago, the rain had started and you were worried about Miguel. You wanted him at home and not only to kill your loneliness, but because it was dangerous to be outside. But once he arrived, you welcomed him with open arms and more or less monitored him to see if he was okay and so on.
Right now, you just wanted to relax with your partner and be calm.
"Miguel." You called him. Your voice was low and soft as you realized recently that he had a bit of a headache. He was picking up the clothes he's going to wear once he takes a bath. He hated being sweaty, he would get a tick if he lay in bed sweaty, without bathing. He became anxious and restless.
"Hmm?" You heard him answer since you were both in your room.
"I know it will sound cliché and I don't know if you'll be comfortable..." You expressed to him. "I'll only know if you tell me, don't you think?" Miguel asked. Commenting with his usual irony. He didn't want to sound like that, but there are times when he gets out of control and doesn't control it.
"It was to ask you if we could... oh sir, this is making me cringe and I haven't said it yet." You raise your head up, a feeling of cringe (cringe) invades you. Miguel turns in your direction, his expression soft and more or less neutral. Of course, his confusion was evident. "Why? What happened? What is it?" Miguel asked while raising his shoulders a little. "Can I..." You paused for a moment to sigh and prepare yourself for the cringe he's going to give you once you say it. "Do you think we can take a bath together?" Your cheeks turn a soft red because of the shame you are feeling.
Miguel stares at you. You wanted to go underground and never come out. Never. But instead of reproaching or complaining he laughs. A small laugh that sounded like he was holding it in but miraculously escaped. "And what makes you laugh?" Ask him. "I don't want to sound rude or mean, but your little face doesn't help." He laughed again, but this time, with a little beep at first. "I don't like you." You narrow your eyes a little, your eyebrows neutral. "And yet you're married to me."
"Is it yes or no? Please don't leave me with high blood pressure."
"Yeah, yeah, fine. But can I ask why? Are you afraid of thunders?" He teased.
"Ha ha, you're funny. Did you know that? You should be a comedian." You responded sarcastically as you placed your hands on your waist.
"Now, now, really. This time I'm really going. Yes, if you can." Miguel raises his eyebrows. "But don't look at me like that because I won't be able to take you seriously and then you'll get angry and complain."
"I don't complain."
Miguel raises an eyebrow as he gives you a 'really?' expression. "Are you sure about that?"
"Don't fuck with me." You point your index finger at him as a warning.
Miguel looks in different directions and then looks at you. "And what will you do to me?" He asked as he spread his hands a little from each other.
"Go take a bath." You pointed the bathroom at him with your hand. Miguel laughs and walks to the bathroom with clothes in hand. "I'll leave the door unlocked so you can come through."
"Alright." You nod.
Once in the shower. You both start to take on water. Taking turns of course. Afterwards, it was time for the soap. Miguel looks into your eyes to see if you gave him your consent to soap you. You nod and he begins to work his magic.
His soapy hands run over your shoulders, careful not to hurt you. His hands felt warm, although they were not soft either, but his touch was gentle and delicate. His hands move from your shoulders to your arms, and up your arms to your neck and then your waist and hips. He didn't touch your breasts, your butt, or your other private part. Respecting your body. You were doing the same. Passing your also soapy hands over his body. Massaging your neck, arms, shoulders, torso and back. Without touching your private part. They both massaged each other, not in a sexual way.
When it was time for shampoo, it was her time to shine. Being a person who expresses himself more through actions, this is one of his ways (I mean treating her with care). His hands run through your hair, massaging your scalp and the rest of your hair. Your back was towards him. From time to time you let out a few hums of satisfaction due to the touch and care he gave you. When it was your turn, you stood on tiptoe and he lowered himself a little so you could lift up. Your hands revealed the same actions as him. He looked at you and looked in silence. His eyes full of love and affection. He doesn't know how he came to have you by his side, but he is more than grateful and happy to have you by his side. He closes his eyes for a moment, one hand on the wall and the other on the other wall so as not to lose balance. Releasing one or another hum or sigh of satisfaction.
You surprise him with a kiss on his forehead, then on the bridge of his nose, then on the tip of his nose, cheek, chin, until you finally reach his lips and he accepts without further ado. The kiss was tender, without malice or carnal desire. Just a moment of affection and affection. One of Miguel's hands reach your lower back. They both separate from the kiss to rinse with the water that was still falling from the shower.
Once you finish showering, you are both now in bed. Your hair wrapped in a towel. Both snuggled up to each other. His arms surrounded your waist from behind, keeping you close. His face pressed against your neck. He was almost asleep and so were you. But you had to get up to dry your hair with the blower. But you were comfortable. Too comfortable. If you only fall asleep like this once, nothing happens, right? Tomorrow you will see how you can remove that tangle from your hair.
"I love you." You whisper before falling asleep.
"Tambien te amo."
(I love you too)
Time to sleep, it's 2:02 a.m. :>
Good night or good morning and have a nice day. This thing is really long ahhh.
bye bye 🤫🧏♂️🗿
#miguel o'hara#miguel x reader#miguel o'hara x reader#miguel ohara x reader#miguel o’hara headcanon#miguel o’hara x reader#atsv headcanons#miguel o'hara x you#spiderman#across the spiderverse#miguel o’hara imagine#atsv miguel#spiderman 2099
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Look, I can understand where people are coming from when they criticize the portryal of the female characters in Helluva Boss.
But extending that same criticism to Hazbin Hotel is where I draw the fucking line.
Hazbin literally has a female protagonist with her own independant goal, who has to work hard for it because people constantly belittle her ideas and beliefs, and eventually gets proven right when it works in the end. Charlie tried to do what was thought impossible, and accomplished it when Sir Pentious gets ascended to heaven. Her love interest has her own backstory before meeting Charlie, where she used to work for the same exorcists who are responsible for nearly driving Charlie's people to extinction and almost making her fail to redeem anyone at the hotel. Vaggie kept this a secret from Charlie since they met, and Charlie feels betrayed by Vaggie to the point of not feeling like she should trust her anymore until it gets resolved. Vaggie has more characterizarion in season 1 of Hazbin alone than Millie does in the entirety of Helluva Boss pre-Hell's Belle's.
Lute is one of the main antagonists. She contributed just as much to the genocide as Adam did, is openly bigoted like Adam, has more common sense than Adam, is the only exorcist with a name, is just as much of a threat to the hotel as Adam is and most of all she survives while he doesn't. Sera approved of the genocide, but felt guilty about it because Adam would've probably killed her or something, which Emily calls her out on regardless. Speaking of Emily, she joins Charlie in on calling heaven out for their hypocrisy and literally says she detests being treated like a child.
Velvette is no less evil than the other two Vees. She sells love potions (aka date rape drugs) and treats her employees cruelly just like they do. She also disrepected the other overlords without giving two shits. Carmilla wasn't having any of Velvette's BS, is protective of Zestial, literally killed an exorcist (despite angels being much more powerful than demons, so that's pretty impressive on it's own) to protect her daughters and figured out that Vaggie was a fallen angel just by knowing what her choice of weapon was. She encouraged Vaggie to fight for the whole hotel, not just for Charlie. Cherri Bomb has an interesting rivalry with Sir Pentious in the pilot that eventually grows into a healthy relationship, and she goes against Valentino just to help and comfort Angel Dust in the Addict music video. Sadly she doesn't do much after that, but at least she got to participate in fighting for the hotel in The Show Must Go On, so it's better than nothing I suppose.
Rosie is one of the few people who Alastor has a genuine friendship with. She played a big part in Charlie trying to give a speech to Cannibal Town, and encouraged her to trust Vaggie again. Mimzy, while I dislike her, is the whole reason why the plot of Dad Beat Dad even happened. She tried to use her friendship with Alastor to get herself out of trouble, so the episode techically wouldn't of happened without her. It's also telling that Alastor didn't eat her or try to kill her for screwing things up, since he's done just that to others for much less. Even Niffty, who's mostly just there for comic relief, is another character who Alastor gets along with. He may own her soul, but he's a lot nicer to her than he is to Husk, who he keeps on a chain and abuses in a not-so-different way that Valentino does to Angel Dust, only without SA involved. Niffty is also the one who kills Adam in the end, so there you go.
That's a BUNCH more than what can be said for most of the ladies in Helluva. (Most of whom I also like, but their writing really does leave something to be desired, though it does seem to be slightly improving with the Hell's Belles short and the promise of a Millie focused episode in Ghostfuckers.) For the record I don't think the writing for the female characters in HH is perfect by any means, but it's a far cry from being anywhere near as bad as HB like many antis claim it is. I think they just say that shit because HB takes place in the same universe as Hazbin and both shows were created by the same person, (aka the guilt by association fallacy) or they just think Vivzie can't do anything right no matter what she does.
#hazbin hotel#charlie morningstar#vaggie#hazbin lute#sera hazbin hotel#emily hazbin hotel#hazbin velvette#carmilla carmine#hazbin hotel rosie#hazbin mimzy#niffty#cherri bomb#helluva boss#bad takes#guilt by association
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I just saw that you write for doctor who and hotd too, although I don't know if you write for 11th and Daemon, I'll try my luck anyway…. I wonder if I could get a Daemon x wife poc!reader x 11th doctor in which Reader is Daemon's wife and one day she is taking a walk when she meets the doctor (she kind of mistakes him for Daem, if that makes sense) and after she realizes it's not him, they start talking and she is kind of fascinated by the doctor (not only by his appearance, but by his entire work). So she invites him to their house (whether it's the red keep or dragonstone, it's up to you) and Daemon, who has just returned from a walk with Caraxes sees reader with a man, previously unknown, and goes to them. Then reader introduces them and comments on the similarity between them. She suggests that they spend the day together and Dae is a little reluctant, but ends up accepting, so they go out and in the meantime reader and 11th are kind of flirting (in a innocent) and Daemon is jealous (which reader loves, because she loves to tease him) At the end of the day Daemon and 11th have a talk about how lucky he is to have her and that he should take care of her. Before leaving, the Doctor promises the reader that he will visit her again (this after she asked him to stay the night, but he refused) when the TARDIS disappears, reader tells Daemon that he doesn't need to be jealous, because She is his and only he has her love and then they kiss (if it's too much, feel free to ignore it) please? (sorry for my English)
okay this is definitely not too much because, from the detail, i know you've daydreamed this before and i absolutely love it and you basically wrote it for me, i just need to fluff it up!!! thank you so much
fic requests go here
daemon targaryen x reader x 11th doctor
summary; the curious man you met on your walk piques both your interest and daemon's inner green monster
unnerving
You would never admit it to your fiery paramour, but you much preferred Dragonstone over The Red Keep. The ocean scented wind was wild in your hair, wisps pulling free from your braids. You held your slippers in one hand and the hem of your dress in the other, reveling in the sand between your toes.
This had became a morning routine for you and Daemon, him to go and give Caraxes some exercise while you enjoy some time alone on the shoreline. Although, from the shoulders you could see on the bluff, it seems as though he finished up earlier than usual this morning.
You didn't care how long you'd spent with the young Targaryen man; you were never less excited to see him. The fire that started at your stomach and reached for your cheeks blazed just as brightly each time for him. You hurried your pace, climbing the short stone stairs to the outlook you beloved stood at.
"Daemo-" Your exclamation was cut a bit short by the realization that this man... was most certainly not Daemon.
From up close you could see the differences, namely being the short brown hair. This man also had a loose feeling to his stance, leaned against the small statue of Caraxes that overlooked the ocean. He was looking at you then, eyes the same hazel green but a different shade - lighter. A kindness illuminating and curiosity illuminating them that Daemon would be adverse to.
You finally had the good sense to be concerned. Dropping the hem of your gown and taking a step away, your smile was sheepish as you curtsied. "Pardon the interruption, Ser. I merely mistook you for my husband."
"Your husband must be a handsome fellow!" Their voices even mirrored each other. "You can call me the doctor! Not a doctor, just the Doctor. Do you happen to know where we are?" The twin emphasized his question with a vague gesture at their surroundings, eyebrows pinching together. "This is a new one for me."
You cocked your head to the side, curious as to his strange way of speaking. How does one come to be somewhere without knowing where there is?
"You're at Dragonstone on the Black Water Bay. The castle is just up the hill." You pointed up and watched his eyebrows raise.
"The castle? I love a good castle. Who's is that? Can we go take a peek?"
Your laugh was light, deciding that even if he didn't match your husband, you just might like the stranger. "It's my husband, Daemon Targaryen's, ancestral home. Let's go take a look, I'm sure he would be riveted to meet you."
---
Daemon thoroughly enjoyed the routine he had found with his wife. No other woman had ever come close to rooting themselves this deeply into his life, and the white haired man didn't think he would ever meet another that could.
You understood his boundaries and his need for space. You were fiercely independent, which made Daemon all the more happy to try and outdo himself for you. Knowing you could care for yourself either way.
Now that Daemon was thinking about it, as he was patting his dragon goodbye, he was going to hunt you down this minute from your expected place on the beach below and have his way with you. Wherever you stood.
How good it felt to be king in his lands.
Just as he turned to start his mission, your laughter could be heard from the other side of the overlook. Smirking to himself, wondering about his impeccable timing, he changed direction toward the sound of your voice.
That's when he heard it. Another voice. A mans voice?
Daemon's playful smile quickly fell, something only to be described as a snarl taking its place. His pace quickened, turning the corner by the stables just in time to see you crest the hill with a vaguely familiar man.
He shook his head, making straight for you. Familiarity didn't fucking matter. These were his lands, his home and his wife. Who in the living fuck was mingling with his wife, all alone on the beach?
"Darling." Daemon's voice was loud and firm, the endearment sounding strange from him. "Are you alright?"
Your attention was on your husband instantly, smile radiating like the rising sun behind you. "Daemon! We were just coming to find you. This is the Doctor, he is.. visiting? I thought you would like to meet."
Daemon had come to stand right before you when his hand reached to grip your arm, pulling you firmly but gently to his side. "Visiting is it, Doctor?"
Eleven was as unbothered as they come typically, but he could not deny that the man standing across from him was his carbon copy. Sans the long, luscious white locks. Should Eleven grow his hair out? "Visiting it is, mate! Your lovely wife thought we might have a few things in common."
Daemon did not like the insinuation that they were similar, even if the appearance may be glaringly obvious. "Is your brother a king and your dragon as fierce as mine, then?"
Feeling his standoffish posture, your hand made light circles on his back while your gaze reprimanded him. "Daemon, he's just here to-"
"I'm sorry but did you say you have a dragon? That is probably the most badass thing I've ever heard, and I've been just about everywhere." Eleven was smiling like a kid in a candy store, gaze searching the sky above them like a dragon was going to swoop in at any minute. "How does one, uhm, see this dragon?"
Daemon's pride and ego battled each other for a split second before he bit out a reply. "I suppose we could go and see the dragon pits, so you know what the Targaryens are so feared for."
"Oh, wonderful! They're beautiful, Doctor, you'll love them." Grasping your husbands hand in your own, you began leading them across the clearing.
The day went similarly.
Eleven was so excited about the baby dragons that he thought he might have to come back in the dead of night to take one for himself, but quickly realized there had to be some karmic justice for stealing from yourself, right? Because Daemon Targaryen had to be some weird extension of him, they were basically copy-pasted.
Daemon did not like the Doctor one bit, almost specifically because of the smile on your face that he felt should be reserved for him. The stranger could sing praises about Dragonstone all he wanted but it wouldn't distract him from the fact that his wife seemed utterly smitten with the man.
You were having fun. The Doctor was a funny man, asking the strangest things. Like 'How do you spell Targaryen?' and 'How long have you been a monarchy?'
"What's a monarchy?" You didn't understand what was so hilarious about your husbands reply, but the Doctor was laughing like a giddy child.
It wasn't very often that you got visitors here, especially considering Daemon's nefarious past. It was a nice change, and so was the green encroaching upon your husbands face.
Every time the Doctor said something particularly funny and you couldn't help the full belly laugh you gave, Daemon's eyes narrowed a bit more. You'd be lying if you said you didn't enjoy his jealousy. The tightness around his eyes as he assessed whether or not you were having just too much fun with the other man.
You made sure to assuage him with kisses throughout the day, small pecks here and there to show your loyalty. But you definitely didn't stop laughing.
By the end of your adventures, with the sun kissing the rolling hills of the island, the Doctor decided that he liked you very much. You reminded him of Amy, sure headed and sparky. You seemed like you had a good life here, full of dragons and fantasy. This was definitely one that Eleven was going to tell River about.
"Are you sure you have to leave?" Daemon stood a mere few feet away from their goodbye, refusing to budge another inch. "The castle has plenty of rooms that can be made-"
"My dragons eat strangers at nightfall."
"Daemon. He doesn't mean that, you'd be more than welcome." You rolled your eyes at his typical bravado, keeping your eyes on the ones that matched his.
"I unfortunately have other engagements that need my attention tonight, Y/N. But I had a lovely day. Thank you for showing me your home." Eleven's smile was warm, and genuine. He would miss this little corner of the multiverse, he was sure of it.
"Maybe you can come and visit again?" Daemon's scoff of disbelief was ignored by both.
"I will definitely pop by again. I need to see little fiery breath all grown up! I'd like to chat with your husband for a moment, before I leave."
With your eyebrow raised, assessing the two men, you gave a nod of dissent. "I'll meet you inside, my love." You gave Daemon a quick kiss on the corner of his mouth and smiled one last time at your visitor. "It was nice to meet you, Doctor, I hope to see you again soon."
Daemon was going over the pros and cons of gutting this fucker like a fish as soon as you were out of earshot.
Pros. He would definitely enjoy it.
Cons. You might end up crying. He hated that.
"You've got a lovely home and wife, my friend."
"Yes I do." Daemon had been confused by this Doctor's intentions all day, but right now the man opposite him only exuded a positive energy.
"You care for her a great deal, that much is obvious. Good. Never stop. Those kinds of women only come around once in a lifetime." Eleven gave him a conspiratorial clap on the shoulder as he walked around the man.
Daemon opened his mouth to bite back a retort but was quickly silenced by the appearance of a strange blue box mere feet from them. "What in the fuck is that?"
Eleven snorted and laughed, giving TARDIS a pat this time as he opened the door. "Oh, it's just my ride. Much bigger on the inside. Name your next dragon Doctor Jr, please."
And with that he was gone, Daemon's head spinning while the chiming of the TARDIS's leaving faded into the sunset.
"That was incredibly strange."
The Targaryen startled just a bit, turning to face you. "What happened to awaiting me inside, wife?"
Your smirk was playful while your hands wrapped around his waist, chin tilted up to gaze at him. "And leave you alone with some stranger? What if he had ran you through?"
Daemon growled low in his chest, the same possessive need filling him at your touch as it always did. "Do you not believe me to be the better swordsman?"
"You know I like to see you get dirty." Your voice was dangerously low, pulling at the strings you knew he had tightest at the moment.
"Seems like you wouldn't have minded seeing The Doctor get dirty as well." Daemon Targaryen was many things but bitter was certainly not one of them. Until right this moment.
"Daemon." Your lips met his once, quickly. "My husband." Your lips returned to his, lingering this time in the want you could feel radiating from him. "King of my heart. I will never want anyone but you."
He pulled your head to his then, mouth forcing yours open in a bruising, claiming kiss.
"Let's get inside. There was something I wanted to do earlier."
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I tried!! let me know how ya liked it
masterlist
#doctor who fic#hotd fic#daemon targaryen x reader#11 x reader#doctor who#hotd#my works#daemon targaryen x f!reader#11 x f!reader#11th doctor x reader
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What's your favourite TTRPG?
someone asking about my hyperfixiation?
alright baby it's time, im going to answer that question in the longest way i can. I was going to try to structure it before i realized i have no idea how, so instead ill just infodump with whatever structure i make up as i go.
To preface this, i have a taste of course, and that is cool fight games, i like systems that really get into the nitty-gritty of character building and tactical choices in combat, I do not particularly care for roleplaying systems as me and my groups are very good at roleplaying on our own, we already make lengthy conversations between our characters, ask questions etc without really needing prompting, so i like systems that focus on the fighting since that certainly needs robust enough rules for my liking, i need to see damage numbers for my brain to buzz. I want to make big sword ladies that can split people in half and i need the system to support that.
Pathfinder 2e
So, as of now my favorite system is pathfinder 2e, its elegant 3 action system tickles my brain, it allows for interesting tactical choices (do i stride to flank the enemy even if I don't know whether it has attacks of opportunity or do I just take my chances with my strikes? do i make a second attack at -5 or do i try to aid an ally? etc) while still having a concrete and finite end to your turn, once you used all 3 actions that's that.
The problem a lot of people have with this system is that most things you could do in d&d 5e with an object interaction become one whole action, like drawing a weapon or opening a door, getting up from prone is also a whole action. To a certain extent i agree it is annoying, however I think the limitations imposed by the system can create much more interesting choices, especially when taking into account another great feature of the system, traits.
Pretty much everything in pf2 has traits, most of the time these traits are just tags like the fire trait which just tells you whatever has this trait has fire, while some have extra effects like the attack trait that means actions with this trait are affected by multiple attack penalty. Traits inform you of how stuff interacts with each other in a clean simple way, for instance some enemies (not all!) have an ability called attack of opportunity that lets them attack as a reaction when you take certain actions, how do you know which actions? simple, all actions with the move and manipulate trait (and ranged attacks).
On the note of attacks of opportunity I'll mention an example of one of my favorite moments of the system, I was playing a level 9 automaton barbarian, we were fighting a knight on a nightmare (hell horsey), we were in a hallway with the knight in front of me and our rogue behind me, i had just been brought back to consciousness by our rogue after the knight knocked me out, what that means is that im prone and my greataxe has been dropped while in reach of the knight, standing from prone and grabbing the weapon are both actions that trigger attacks of opportunity and I know this enemy has it, I consider my options since an attack of opportunity would likely knock me out again, my unarmed attacks arent great and being prone gives a penalty to hit, so i try to grapple (an attack that is unaffected by being prone as it is an athletics check rather than an attack roll) in hopes of getting the chance to use my remaining two actions to use my arcane slam feat (that only works on a grappled target) to knock him prone. However i fail my grapple attempt, so im left with two actions, still prone and without a weapon in hand, and then i remember at 8th lvl i took friendly toss, a feat that allows me to grab an ally and throw them, moreover, they get to make an attack as a reaction at the end of their movement. So i grab the rogue behind me by the leg and i yeet her on the other side of the knight, thus flanking the knight, granting sneak attack, and thanks to flanking she crits him and kills him.
Besides being a sick as fuck moment why did i tell you this? Well because i think this represents pretty well how it works, pf2 rewards versatility, most of your damage scales mostly automatically, especially as a martial character most of your choice of abilities will be about extra options that help you in certain situations, I've had the most fun building characters in pf2 when i was considering the actions available to them.
Especially with how the system works versatility is actually very easy to achieve, there's lots of feats within each class that allow you to be more effective in certain situations, a classic example being sudden charge, a feat that lets you stride twice and then strike using only 2 actions rather than 3, or friendly toss that i mentioned above. And outside of your class, since you HAVE to spread your ability scores at least a lil bit youll probably be good with at least one ability score that a different class focuses on. With the fact that feats are usually not direct power boosts it isnt as big of a deal to give certain feats for free or to use rules such as free archetype or ancestral paragon.
Now there's a lot to praise about pf2 and i could keep going about it like how encounter rating actually works, or all the sickass options available, or how it has so much LGBT representation including a deity that presents itself to mortals wearing their ideal body because "if a divine being has chosen to wear it, it must be perfect", but I think I've praised pf2 enough. Despite all the good pf2 is still not a perfect system and it has its flaws, some that should be mentioned even if I myself dont find them to be bothersome.
To start it should be mentioned that pf2 is pretty dense, it's a fairly crunchy system with a large amount of rules for a lot of different situations, which can make it a little difficult to approach but the main difficulty is really that a lot of the times rules reference other rules which can be clunky if you don't learn a good amount of rules before playing, i know a few DMs that like to come up with rules on the fly to fill in gaps or when they don't know the rules, and pf2 doesnt quite work well with that method as several rules have implications for other rules. At least tho most rules are one google search away thanks to them being free.
Another somewhat related issue is that pf2 can be overwhelming, it's not as bad as pf1 or d&d 3.5 however there is such a high amount of options that analysis paralysis is certainly an issue for some people.
Now these were issues that i dont really care about myself, i can work with a dense system and i love having tons of options, however pf2 isnt a perfect system for me either.
It's hard to find gripes with it but I do have a few, for instance while i love the trait system i do think it is unintuitive how so many traits are just tags with no effect on their own while so many others have extremely important effects like the flourish trait that means you can't use other flourishes that turn or the incapacitation trait that heavily holds back save or suck abilities by making them less effective on higher level targets, yet there is no differentiation between the two, you just need to always look at the tags, after a while it's not that big of an issue but still.
For this next one i wanna give a lil bit of context, d&d 5e has a rather large issue that all its players are aware of, the martial/caster disparity, as in 5e casters are just overwhelmingly better than martials, well pf2 fixed this, but went just ever so slightly overboard. In pf2 generally speaking martials have a few things they are good at and are REALLY good at them, usually hitting things hard, while casters are weaker but more versatile, there's exceptions like the kineticist which is mechanically similar to casters as its abilities mimic spells but is functionally closer to a martial as it is highly effective at few specific things, but exceptions aside this vaguely how they're functionally divided.
The problem is that because casters are both tied to resources and also slightly weaker there's time where it doesn't feel that great to play them, mainly with the fact that you also don't really get any items to increase your effectiveness, you get items like staves or wands that give you more versatility but nothing like a +1 potency rune that martials get to hit more often, and with the high defenses that enemies tend to have at your level or even a level lower it can be hard to break that first spell and apply a good debuff to get better odds with other spells, and unfortunately even tho pf2 added multiple levels of success to still have something happen when enemies succeed on spells it's still often negligible and doesn't feel good to expend resources like that especially cus you don't get a lot of them at low levels. Overall tho I do not think this is a terrible issue, there are ways to build around it like teamwork focusing on reliable options that lower defenses, and even without this i think a potency item to buff spellcasters like martials is enough.
Now, that's actually pretty much it for the issues I've got with pf2, but I'm not quite done yet, I think pf2 is an extremely solid system and the flavor of the available options is also fantastic, it has few flaws, however I have more issues with it, but they aren't really pf2 issues as much as they are issues with most d20 systems.
The first issue is not exactly an issue with the system itself but it is commonly found in d20 systems, and that's the null result, which is when you wanna do something, you roll poorly and nothing happens, you waited the whole round to do your cool thing but the math rock stopped on a 1 so that's that. Now pf2 is actually not as bad as some of its peers at this (lookin at you 5e), thanks to the 4 degrees of success, which I realize now is a good system pf2 uses that I haven't explained, thankfully it's very simple, whenever you roll there's a difficulty class you need to beat, like to shield yourself from the fireball you need to roll a 17 or higher, in 5e there's only 2 degrees, you either do it or you don't, in pf2 there's 4, you can succeed, fail, crit succeed or crit fail, and the crit results have two ways to happen, you roll 10 above or below the DC or you roll a nat 20 or nat 1 which increase or decrease the degree of success by one step (this is important! a farmer cannot hit an ancient red dragon because a nat 20 will turn a crit fail into a fail which is still a miss). With this system and the 3 action system it is less likely to do nothing in a turn, it is however still very possible, especially because on attack rolls you still miss on a failure not just a critical failure, the difference is that some and pcs have abilities that do something when they are crit missed.
As a DM i almost always consider lowering the defenses of my monsters and increasing the hp so that the players get to do cool stuff more often... and then the die rears it's face on an ugly little single digit number that says fuck you that we lovingly call a nat 1. Nat 1s are rolled shockingly often at the tables i play at and lowering defenses of enemies won't fix the frustration of seeing that number and saying "well, that's that".
The next issue then has to do with the actual dice, it's something that has become obvious as ive been thinking about it and especially playing pf2 as well as baldur's gate 3 (which while it isn't a ttrpg it uses the 5e core rules and boy does if highlight some big issues with those rules), and that is the swinginess of the numbers, having a result that is twenty times as likely as another result but just as likely is kind of crazy, but really that is especially apparent when we look at the damage dice, bg3 likes to show you numbers rather than dice and seeing the damage of a fireball be 6 to 36 damage really puts it into perspective, it's worse at higher levels because you have other spells like blight that deal 8 to 64 damage, and while average results are more likely because of the higher amounts of dice that swinginess is still there. In pf2 this is even more apparent actually because of the more frequent and actually wildly more meaningful crits, because while in 5e crits just double damage dice, in pf2 crits double damage period, including all modifiers which there is a lot more of, and crits often have special effects too. In a recent one shot I was playing a kineticist and I used an ability to target two enemies, they get to make a basic save (no dmg on crit success, half on success, full on fail and double on crit fail) the damage was 2d8, the first turn i used it i rolled a 3 and a 2, one of my enemies crit succeeded ans the other succeeded so I dealt a total of 2 damage, the very next turn i do it again, both fail and one of em is a crit fail, and I rolled a 7 and an 8, dealing a total of 45 damage. In another game we play our barbarian is using a giant scythe and regularly hits for like 15 or so damage and the crits for 40-50 damage because scythes deal more damage on crits.
While critting feels fantastic, both on hitting and enemies crit failing, it is extremely swingy and gives an overwhelming amount of power to let the dice decide how an encounter goes, this may be supposed to be a moderate encounter but your barbarian went first and immediately crit a core enemy of the formation and now its a trivial encounter, or the zombie went first and crit the healer and downed them immediately and now it's a severe encounter. Maybe this was supposed to be trivial but I keep rolling 15s and up and my players look like they're rolling on d6s to hit. The swinginess also links back to the null result because sure the different degrees of success help but a crit success on a save is still a null result and a success dealing 2 damage is more like a slap on the back of the head than a consolation prize. And while the null result is something that's maybe fixable the swinginess is something that I think requires too much effort to change for how pf2 is built, crits are just too infused in the system to change them and everything just messes with the math that is core to pf2 making it so much harder to balance everything.
While I think I can live with both of these issues the more time goes on the more I wanna do something about them. And that's roughly when a new ttrpg in the making caught my eye. I've been following Matthew Colville for a long time, he's a great DM and makes wonderful videos with system agnostic tips on how to be a better dungeon master, he's also a game designer and the game design director at MCDM, and since the d&d OGL debacle they've decided to take a crack at making their own unique ttrpg, and well im hooked, he's made several videos on the MCDM YouTube channel explaining more in detail and some of what I've said is in reference to that, watching those videos has allowed me to put into words the issues I've been having, namely the null result. I'm excited to see what they've put together, and so finally that is why I phrased the answer at the beginning like that, pf2 is currently my favorite ttrpg but with the MCDM ttrpg on the way that is prone to change. I think I will always love pf2, it is an extremely solid system and making homebrew for it really feels like making a neat cog to add to a well oiled machine. I could probably go on about pf2 especially if I were to get into the specific options available (don't get me started on the kineticist, I am in love).
So that's it then, I hope it was worth 2 fucking whole weeks of wait.
#you know if this happens again i should write less#this was too much#pretty sure i am not normal#pf2#d&d 5e#ttrpg stuff#time for a new tag#my infodumps#i wasted like more than half a week since the ask was first sent because i wrote so much stuff about other ttrpgs i played with some attempt#of structure that just fell apart so i just started again
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hey so do you think wtv keiko had to deal with growing up with yusuke could be considered a type of parentification
#god chapters where barely anything happens except a character's realization about things can be hard ...#im writing another keiko pov chapter and it's hard because well!!#keiko was never really a main focus in the series and as time goes on she gets even less of a focus so i have to fill in these spots#in her personality and views that aren't really explored. im taking a lot of liberties lets say#and idek if it's gonna read as in character cos of that#anyway im tryna say that like. pre series keiko was basically this presence in yusuke's life and he saw her as a pain but he cared#she was there to scold him and cajole him into going to his classes and she was his only friend#now we know atsuko was negligent and idk how involved the yukimuras were in his life but i feel like keiko#whether directly or indirectly was given this duty like you have to keep him outta trouble#you're smart you're mature he needs someone like you. this responsibility just kind of put on her before she can understand the weight of i#and she can't really comprehend that weight until it's abruptly taken from her. yusuke dies and there's no one to shepherd#i feel like keiko should get to be mad about this. this realization of the nature of their dynamic. keiko planning things around yusuke#who's never done that in his life. not because he's purposely being thoughtless but bc he was never the one to have to plan#to think about what their future looks like. he just kinda drifted along and keiko tried to do damage control. it wasn't fair#yusuke is keeping secrets from her she is scared of high school and that he'll die again without her knowing why and it's unfair#so she should get to be mad also because girls getting to be mad is one of my favorite things 👍🏼#the realization that yusuke won't be lost without her so she shouldn't hinge her life on the expectation that he will be#she worries about yusuke a lot i think. especially after he comes back from the dead. and i think kuwa's presence would help ease that#dread in her heart. it doesn't have to be just me. there's someone who can be there with him always and it doesn't have to be me#the guilty relief of not having to be the sacrifice. but kuwa doesn't mind so maybe it's okay this way#idk just rambles about my fic while i puzzle out how to word it#character analysis#yukimura keiko#yu yu hakusho
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YES my username on yt is a blood bros reference :33 i need to go to crimes world again i know in my heart and soul that i love her but i seldom show her attention .. i need to care her more ..
HOOFRAY!!!! also pretty please do!!!!!!! for me!!!!!!!!!!!!!
#such a good album it is Insane that like. you never really see it talked about outside of certain spaces#and even then it was originally derided for being much less heavy than its predecessors#such a smart album lyrically and even in just like certain songs like peacock skeleton with crooked feathers#which btw is my go-to song to introduce people 2 them#for obvious reasons. the way the vocals play off each other#the keyboard#aforementioned lyrics because man they’re good at writing political lyrics that are simultaneously very pointed and relevant to this day#and also just plain fun. the way they word stuff rolls off the tongue very well#which I suppose is very much in part to Whitney being a very literary guy from what I’ve read up about him#SPEAKING OF!!!!! Jesus Christ the vocals. the vocals#(positive)#very very powerful for a guy who was like…. 21-22 at the time of recording I’d reckon?#I know whitney’s vocals are a turn off for the band for most people but imo? it’s one of the main appeals. 2 me he is like an insanely good#vocalist. almost jealous that he can hit those notes as a cis guy and I can’t cause omfg in like. wolf party near the end#HOW DOES A GUY MANAGE THAT…..#I love how they incorporated elements of other genres in it. like I don’t see them as indie rock like people#for whatever reason#like to describe them as in that album#but you can hear the elements. bringing up wolf party again cause nick zinner did some of the guitar in that and he’s in an indie band no?#yeah yeah yeahs or whatevs. they’re cool seeming I should check ‘em out#ALSO sorry I kind of glossed over Blilie. he’s really fucking good in the album obvs!!!!#pretty sure he did the album art which. omfg it’s had an aesthetic chokehold on me as of late#and also just. he has a nice voice#the sort of warbley thing he has and also his screams… goated#contrary to my posting#I’m actually a bliliegirl I’d consider myself lol. Whitney happens to also have a psychic chokehold on me#this is obvious. I go by Johnny and want to go blonde HMMMMM I WONDER WHY..#my bad for rambling in tags I just. I love that album so deeply#it’s very meaningful to my identity and songs like the title track and beautiful horses just. get me right at my core#evil neighing compilation
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Every day I get 🤏 this much closer to getting out of chapter 1 of Chazzerella.
#when I can actually get myself to sit down and write I actually make progress#who knew?#but no yeah we're getting there#I'm not gonna be a liar about it happening this year like I was last year#chazzerella is happening baby#you gotta wait until it's finished though#but once it's done I can finally officially put OUAD 2 back on the table again 👀#that's my rule I can't start writing OUAD 2 until chazzerella is finished especially because I mean to do chazzerella last year#and that plan completely fell apart because last year was horrible I'm amazed I could vring myself to write anything#much less finish and release a few things#I also started the mario crossover instead of doing chazzerella that's a nother problem#which remeinds me I need to slog my way through the rest of the next chapter of that#I have a plan I'm just having a hard time actually sitting down and doing it you know? jyst very slow going#the next chapter after that is basically already written though#so I mean that's good I guess akkskks#not that anybody gives a shit about that one other than me anyway#which I mean is fine I'm doing that one purely for me anyway but it still kinda blows#doesn't help me with my slow progress either#but I digress#I have to work tomorrow or I guess technically today so I should probably actually sleep?#we'll see#yugioh gx fanfiction#chazzerella#abby's fanfic writer power hour#abby's insomnia thoughts
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Things I've learned from getting covid for the first time in 2023
I wear an N95 in public spaces and I've managed to dodge it for a long time, but I finally got covid for the first time (to my knowledge) in mid-late November 2023. It was a weird experience especially because I feel like it used to be something everyone was talking about and sharing info on, so getting it for the first time now (when people generally seem averse to talking about covid) I found I needed to seek out a lot of info because I wasn't sure what to do. I put so much effort into prevention, I knew less about what to do when you have it. I'm experiencing a rebound right now so I'm currently isolating.
So, I'm making a post in the hopes that if you get covid (it's pretty goddamn hard to avoid right now) this info will be helpful for you. It's a couple things I already knew and several things I learned. One part of it is based on my experience in Minnesota but some other states may have similar programs.
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The World Health Organization states you should isolate for 10 days from first having symptoms plus 3 days after the end of symptoms.
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At the time of my writing this post, in Minnesota, we have a test to treat program where you can call, report the result of your rapid test (no photo necessary) and be prescribed paxlovid over the phone to pick up from your pharmacy or have delivered to you. It is free and you do not need to have insurance. I found it by googling "Minnesota Test to Treat Covid"
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Paxlovid decreases the risk of hospitalization and death, but it's also been shown to decrease the risk of Long Covid. Long Covid can occur even from mild or asymptomatic infections.
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Covid rebound commonly occurs 2-8 days after apparent recovery. While many people associate Paxlovid with covid rebound, researchers say there is no strong evidence that Paxlovid causes covid rebound, and rebounds occur in infections that were not treated with Paxlovid as well. I knew rebounds could happen but did not know it could take 8 days. I had mine on day 7 and was completely surprised by it.
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If you start experiencing new symptoms or test positive again, the CDC states that you should start your isolation period again at day zero. Covid rebound is still contagious. Personally I'd suggest wearing a high quality respirator around folks for an additional 8-9 days after you start to test negative in case of a rebound.
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Positive results on a rapid test can be very faint, but even a very faint line is positive result. Make sure to look at your rapid test result under strong lighting. Also, false negatives are not uncommon. If you have symptoms but test negative taking multiple tests and trying different brands if you have them are not bad ideas. My ihealth tests picked up my covid, my binax now tests did not.
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EDIT: I'd highly suggest spending time with friends online if you can, I previously had a link to the NAMI warmline directory in this post but I've since been informed that NAMI is very much funded by pharmaceutical companies and lobbies for policies that take autonomy away from disabled folks, so I've taken that off of here! Sorry, I had no idea, the People's CDC listed them as a resource so I just assumed they were legit! Feel free to reply/reblog this with other warmlines/support resources if you know of them! And please reblog this version!
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I know that there is so much we can't control as individuals right now, and that's frightening. All we can do is try our best to reduce harm and to care for each other. I hope this info will be able to help folks.
#covid#covid 19#harm reduction#apparently only 16% of Americans even got their booster#it's wild out there#which makes sense because our public health messaging has been super unhelpful and intentionally shifted the burden#of infection control onto individuals to avoid us holding them accountable because it's politically and economically inconvenient to them
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oop I have asks I will get to them but also I have family over and yaddayadda probably the last time we'll all be together (mortality's a bitch) so like. capitalising on that so I haven't forgotten I just. haven't been around. Who knows when I will have time!
... maybe tomorrow I don't think I have to like Be places until the afternoon but the housework is also piling up lmaoooo
#also I would like to do Nothing for a bit#it has been non-stop between socialising and work since like. a week past thursday.#love that for me. the nephew is very cute. I have entranced him with my juggling skills maybe#anyhow. just if you'd sent one after that last ask list etc and were wondering. I will get to them!!#I just. really need to pick my timings better#anyway it is gone midnight and I did not exactly sleep well last night (i was on cushions on the floor bc my dad. forgot.#that Sen was using the other futon and Andrew was also up. I should really have just stuck to the couch)#so. sleep! perhaps in the morning. before everything else.#also I maybe feel the need for a ramble but I do not know WHOMST#the twine files are also almost maybe done#just got the rest of Leritheyar's characters to port across. and then the timelines. and then maybe sort ages but that is less important#we go by vibes#god actually having ages relative to events might work better than having dates huh.#anyway. there you go. shit's happening it's wild#I also might be picking up streaming again but that's. a whole different thing. need to check w Jess if it's ok bc it's her xbox#did I just try to write exbox lmaooo god i must be tired#chrrist there is so much on the floor in here#I realise I just dumped half of it there. but. something needs Done#just. tomorrow. yeah. anyhow.#tags longer than the post; check. my job here is done
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Should be doing my taxes instead my brain is trying to work on mingyu joshua kakucho kisaki and shinishiro fanfictions all at once. Waiting for my head to explode at this point.
#why cant i split myself into different mes to all work seperately so i actually get all thoughts types out#i cant write them all at the same time and i will forget important stuff#besides i should ofc do my real life things first but.... yk#im just glad i got chishiya gojo vernon and beomgyu out of my head again otherwise this would be a mess#feeling all the feelings a little too much atm#pure insanity is what it is#ok maybe i will go do the dishes now first at least that chore allows me to daydream simultaneously bye#so many real life problems. you wouldnt know#i will pretend this never happened#opening tumblr is always the last straw really#oh and my son is out with his dad rn if that helps making this any less concerning#im not also the worst mom on top of the crazy ok
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im a lot more used to my stuff not tending to get traction the way a lot of other fics and stuff does in fandom spaces (which is fine and not a dig it's just how it is) so when there's people who not only comment on like maybe a few things but will comment on like almost all of my stuff and make a point of telling me how much they like my stuff it gives me literally every single good brain chemical
#on one hand obviously you should definitely write for yourself but also#that IS what i already do. the things i post are whatever i happen to love so much and also feel brave enough to actually put out into the#world bc any amount of reasons that i feel strongly enough that it might be something even one other person would like#and anyway i think the way a lot of people have started to treat ppl wanting attention on their works as a moral failing or whatever is#really weird !#its normal and fine to hope and want for people to tell you their thoughts and etc on the things you are brave enough to put into the world#bc its not an easy thing by any means. not for me anyway. esp with bad fandom experiences in the past lol#and i think also not everyone realizes how much the positive feedback and stuff is genuinely appreciated#like i hope everyone whos ever left extensive detailed comments on my stuff knows how much i appreciate them especially#its a good thing and its never ever annoying or any kind of bad. for me. and probably its the same for just about everyone else who writes#uh. yeah thats it i just had thoughts again bc some people are So Nice it does feel good especially after getting#a bit insecure about my stuff being Less Popular#yk#miles rambles
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Down & Dirty
Fandom: “Outer Banks”
Pairing: mean! Rafe Cameron x fem! Pogue! Bimbo! Reader
Cw: dark themes— dubcon, angst, manipulation, nsfw . Gunplay, dumbification, mud scene, codependency, subspace, anal, breeding, daddy kink, extreme domination, size kink, predator/prey dynamics
A/N: bro I was fuckin FERAL writing this .
Fear courses through you as Rafe Cameron’s hand covers your mouth and he drags you away towards his truck. You knew it was a bad idea to come here by yourself, but you went against your better judgement.
“I really wish you wouldn’t do that.” He calmly but scarily murmurs as you struggle. His bottom lip peeks out and his eyes are almost vacant.
You’ve always known that Rafe is somewhat of a bad person, given the torment he had always given you being Sarah’s best friend— but now, with his grip tight and mean, gun barrel pointing at your skull, you know now that something has shifted inside him — something dark and unforgiving. The hands that had once been soft on your skin, the eyes and body that had comforted you once or twice, regardless of Rafe’s violent tendencies with your pogue friends, we’re now aiming to end your life .
“Rafe, please…” You plead with him, as he yanks you by your hair.
“Rafe, please,” he mocks. “Jesus, you’re fucking pathetic. You’re lucky that I haven’t put a bullet in that pretty fucking skull yet.”
Tears well in your eyes and you kick him in his groin. It makes him groan, and he drops his grip from you. You run away from him, at a certain point having to stop and take your favorite pair of heels off. You were incredibly stupid to wear them here.
Rafe catches up to you quick. He tackles you, and with a loud sloshing sound you both land in the mud on the ground. He wrestles you down until his hands are around your neck. You gasp, trying to run away again, trying to get away from this guy you had once recognized as a form of comfort for you, but to no avail.
“You fucking bitch.” The gun has been lost somewhere beside the both of you, but that doesn’t make the boy any less threatening. “I never wanted to hurt you! You did this to your self- stop fucking squirming!”
You sob as his hands loosen a bit on you. He looks down at your supple chest, your bra now peeking out of your tank top from all of the movement.
“Even now you’re dressed like a fucking slut,” he growls. Your brows furrow. You’ve been avoiding eye contact with him, but now you meet his once again. He looks like a predator about to catch its prey.
He looks angelic, almost… a fallen angel. You breathe out, and with enough strength to pull forward, you kiss him.
You don’t know why you do it— sex is the thing that most men want from you, so maybe that’s why. As a way to plead for your life.
His tongue finds its way into your mouth for a moment, his teeth clacking against yours, but as if pulled out of a trance he rips himself away from you. Mud cakes his face and arms as he gets up to his feet.
You let out a tiny whine as he looks down at you, from frustration or fear you don’t know. Probably both. You flimsily move up on your knees, doe eyes looking up at him with a begging expression.
Rafe’s eyes dart to the other side of you, and he catches sight of the loaded gun laying in a heap on the ground. He grabs it and shoves the barrel against your skull. With one hand he wraps it around your neck and pulls you closer to him.
“The fuck is wrong with you?” He says with a disgusted tone.
You don’t say anything, just let out a little whimper. He catches sight of your tank top again— and a small smirk glazes his features.
He grabs the strings of it and rips the flimsy thing right down the middle. When it settles in what’s about to happen, a wet spot forms in your panties.
You might die right now, covered in mud and grass, but you’re fucking horny.
“I should kill you right now,” he whispers heavily against your ear. “But that’s not what you want, is it? You want me to fuck you, right here on the dirty fucking ground. Don’t you?”
You nod your head, desperate. For what, you don’t know.
He smiles, demented. And he moves the gun down to your mouth. “Just a dirty little pogue that wants to get filled with dick, right?”
“Yes… yes, sir.” You mumble. Your tongue lolls out to lick at the gun barrel. “I wan’ it..”
And that’s all the confirmation Rafe needs. He places the gun in the back of his waistband and begins to undo his belt.
“Of course you do,” he rambles. “That’s all you’ve ever fuckin’ wanted was to get dicked down by me. I always saw the way you looked at me, y’know.”
You move closer to him when he pulls his lengthy cock out of his pants. It’s heavy, thick and long, circumcised, with precum coating the tip. A vein runs down one side of it, almost throbbing.
You reach out and lick the tip of him. He tastes absolutely divine.
“‘S so pretty..” you whisper. You drag your face along it, just to feel the warm skin and lick it all up.
Rafe, bored, grabs your face and positions his cock in front of your mouth.
“Open that fucking mouth as wide as it can go.”
You obey, mouth opening to take him; he shoves his cock in as deep as it can go. He reached behind him to his waistband and the gun is back in one of his hands again. He shoves it against your head for a third time. He groans when you gag around his fat prick, and your body naturally moves forward in between his legs. Rafe takes notice and is quick to wrap his thighs around each side of your head, making sure to squeeze. It’s too much pressure on your head, and you try to move away. But Rafe slaps both sides of your blushing face and thrusts so hard that you gag.
“Don’t fucking move. You move, I’ll fuckin’ shoot you. Do you understand me?”
You can’t nod, but you cry out around him. He holds the top of your hair with his fingers and keeps you down until you can’t breathe.
But seriously, you can’t breathe— your vision goes blurry and you’re almost close to passing out. You’re too dazed to care, But thankfully Rafe doesn’t want to kill you just yet. He forces your head away. You gasp, choking and sputtering, trying to get more oxygen back into your now sore throat. He’s back on you in an instant, though, and he’s leaking so much precum and you’re drooling so much that it’s dripping out of the sides of your mouth. His balls slap against your chin; your nose presses into his pubic hair, and he smells so delicious that you almost start rutting into the filthy ground.
He pulls you off of him when he’s about to cum. You get thrown to the ground, your head hitting the soft mud and caking your face. Rafe discards the gun again, gets down on his knees behind you, and rips your skirt and underwear down your legs vigorously. Your puffy cunt is revealed to him. He tsks, running a finger through your folds.
“So wet. And shit—“ he pulls your cheeks apart, exposing your juicy pussy and tight asshole to the warm air. You clench around nothing as he spits down in between your ass cheeks. “All your little holes are so tiny. Fuck, this is gonna hurt you, sweetheart.”
“Please..” you whimper, pushing your body back against him on your hands and knees. “Need daddy’s big cock. Need it ‘s bad.”
The fact that you’re talking in third person like this should be a bit concerning. Your mind is so far gone. But Rafe doesn’t care about that— all he cares about is ripping your sloppy cunt open.
“I know you do.” He states. His tongue goes down to your asshole. He runs it along that place there, and down to the place in between your ass and pussy. His thumb moves around and lightly massages your clit. It’s the first kind of stimulation he’s given you and your eyes roll to the back of your head.
“Yeah, you like that, don’t you?” He mutters. “Maybank ever do this to you?”
He’s referring to JJ; he has, although you don’t want to admit that to him. Rafe isn’t the first cock you’ve sucked, the first guy to finger your pussy. But he’s by far the best.
“S-Sometimes..”
It comes out low, and his fingers stop.
“Yeah? You slut yourself out to all those dirty pogues?”
When you don’t answer, his hand comes down on the fat of your ass. You sob.
“No! N-No, just JJ, I swear!”
He reaches around and slaps your pussy. It hurts, and Rafe thinks that you let out a sound like a pained little bunny. The nickname makes so much sense to him, and he’s angry as he lines himself up to your puffy entrance.
“You’re never gonna see him again.” He states. His tip sinks into you. The stretch stings, fucking hurts so bad. You’ve sucked cock but you’ve never had one inside your cunt. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine. You dumb fucking bunny.”
And he pushes himself in, in, in, and you’ve never felt so full, so dirty, so claimed. He pushes past that thin little wall inside you, pops your cherry with his cock’s mushroomed head. When it breaks through blood coats his length; he knows because he begins to move quick after that, sees the red coated on his dick. You’re so tight and sweet and fuck— Rafe doesn’t think he can kill you anymore. He needs to be inside you forever.
“Mine.” He growls. “All mine.”
You’re laying there, having no choice but to take it. The pain feels good. Rafe grabs your wrists and pins them behind your back as he begins to pound you right there in the dirt.
Little ah ah ahs leave you as his balls slap against your clit. He shoves one of his fingers into your mouth. You can taste the grittiness of dirt and under that, his natural taste— mixed with the taste of hand soap, almost. Probably the one that sits back in the Cameron household’s second bathroom, on the counter. Or maybe it’s the body wash that he so often washes himself with; you know this because you use it sometimes. You like the way the boy smells.
“Little pussy’s squeezing me so fuckin’ tight.” He groans. “Best pussy daddy’s ever had baby, fuck.”
He’s almost a whimpering mess himself. He’s not gonna last long because of your cunt— and he intends to make the most of it.
He grabs you by your throat, has bent backwards against him as he presses a messy kiss to your mouth. It’s hungry, it’s crazy, the whole situation is. But you’re both at each other like fucking animals.
“Whose pussy is this?” He demands. You lick at his bottom lip, clench around him just right.
“Yours! ‘S all yours, daddy!”
“Yeah, that’s right.” He huffs, then he thumbs your asshole and watches as you suck him in. “Gonna fuck this tight little ass after this. Gonna take you home and take you right there on my fuckin’ staircase.”
You mewl, and you can tell that he’s close. You reach around to try and rub your own clit, but Rafe slaps your hand away. He turns you over on your back. You can see him a lot better this way, and he looks like a fucking God, pounding you so good like this. He pushes your legs over your head and slides back inside your gummy walls. He buries his face in your neck and his fingers move down to your clit. When he rubs you, it doesn’t take long before you’re cumming on him with a scream. Your cunt tightening around him makes him let out a growl, and you beg him for his load.
“Please, Rafey,” you whine out. “Please cum inside me. I need your cum in my tight little pussy.. wanna be a mommy, wanna have your baby, please please please—“
He lets out an animalistic shout, and his cock squirts warm, white cream right against your cervix. He pounds you even more at the force of his orgasm. When he comes down, he slows and breathes in your scent. The sweet strawberry perfume you wear is right against his nostrils. He pulls out of you, slow. He spreads your pussy lips apart and watches his seed drip out of your gaping pussy.
“Good girl..” he coos, oddly sweet. “Daddy’s good little cocksleeve..”
Your mind is hazy, and even here in the woods you grab his hands and grab him to pull him closer to you. He pushes you away, however, and grumbles, “Don’t. Cmon, get up.”
You comply, on shaky legs. He picks up your tank top, slips it over your head. Your skirt is practically in shreds, so he just puts your panties back on. You’re too fucked out to even care that he’s dragging you to his truck, half naked, cum dripping down your legs. You don’t care.
The ride to the Cameron residence is quiet. Rafe threw the gun in the console when he got in. You fall asleep halfway there, and he turns the radio on softly.
He looks over at you. Caked in dirt, cheeks red, scratches all over your thighs. You must’ve got them from the twigs in the mud.
Something tugs at his chest. He blames it on the adrenaline.
The house is empty; Wheezie, Rafe had sent off to a friend’s. Sarah, running around with the pogues, probably trying to find you. Rose, god knows where. His dad, dead. He does what he said he would do. He sits himself down on the staircase, pulls out his cock, already hard from the way your thighs are wet. He positions you on top of him as you look down at him tiredly. You want to be good for him, though, and let him stretch your ass out on his fingers. Afterwards you move your panties to the side, grab his cock and slide it inside your heat. You bounce on him, mouth agape as you look into his eyes. There seems to be more emotion in them now. He’s calmed.
He digs his fingernails into your hips, and he grunts when your lips find his neck and you suck a bruise onto it. He spills inside you for a second time, and then he makes you go upstairs with him. He pulls you into his bathroom, the one connected to his room, that you’ve never been in. He takes off the both of your clothes and starts a warm shower. He pulls you inside of it, takes a rag and begins scrubbing the both of you down. You lean against him as he does so, leaving kisses against his now bare chest. His fingers come down to your pussy and make you cum again, an oddly selfless act preformed by the boy. A reward because you were good, maybe? He turns the water off when you’re both squeaky clean. You don’t let him out of your grasp until he gets out of the shower and you follow him. He grabs a towel and dries your used body off with it, and then grabs another and does the same for himself. He guides you to his bed, and you crawl into it.
Your mind is still a mess. You feel alight, like you’ve been touched by god himself. But Rafe’s distance from you when he sits beside you makes you frown. It saddens you so much even, that tears well in your eyes again. Rafe can see the tears coming down your face.
“Jesus, are you fucking crying right now?”
Silence, and then a small sniffle. He scoffs.
“Need me to fuckin’ coddle you, or somethin’?”
You don’t say anything, but you do want that— you don’t know why. He had just taken you in the literal fucking mud, like a disgusting fucking animal. But his warm embrace sounds like something that can ease the headache forming in your skull.
Rafe must sense this. Because he groans, and lays himself down in the spot beside you.
“Come here.” He demands, harshly. You turn over, surprised at his words, but comply regardless. You bring your arms up around his neck and nestle in the space between his arm and torso; it’s comfortable there, it’s warm and soft. You like it. Maybe you’re losing your fucking mind.
You feel the need to thank him for his generosity— you still haven’t gotten out of that space he had forcefully thrown you into— and you need him to be proud of you, almost.
“Rafe—” you say, voice a bit hoarse.
“Did I say you could talk?”
“No..” you murmur. “‘m sorry.”
“Better be.”
He pulls the comforter over the both of you. He remembers the gold, the entire reason why this had occurred in the first place. But it can wait. Exhaustion overtakes him. After a moment a small sigh emits from him and his thumbs rub soft circles against your shoulder.
And soft, almost like an angels wings, he kisses your head with plush lips.
© 2023 bratty-lxndry444 🤏🏻 all rights reserved. do not copy, translate, modify, repost, or claim as yours !!!
#rafe cameron#bunny writes ͟͟͞☆#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x fem! reader#rafe cameron smut#rafe cameron x bimbo! reader#dark! rafe cameron x reader#mean! rafe cameron x reader#mean! rafe cameron#dark! rafe Cameron#rafe cameron fanfic#rafe obx#rafe outer banks#rafe obx fanfic#drew starkey#Obx#outer banks#s2! rafe cameron
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my father told me he read it, but he hasn't read it. that's okay. my friends keep picking the words out of my throat.
someone once told me that the more trigger warnings that go on a book, the better it is. i didn't mean to write something with so many conditional phrases - i was writing about what i felt while being a human. sometimes you are a person and sometimes you are a statistic. sometimes it is falling upwards and sometimes it's sliding back down again.
my father tells me that it will be difficult to get people to read it. i didn't like the idea of a singular genre. i'm not going to lie to you - it is actually a difficult book to get through. i change the rules in it. it's not poetry or prose explicitly. it's neither false nor reality. i give you the tools to "solve" the book, but i let you do the thinking. my father says people don't care to think. i don't know about that - i think we just, like, enjoy reading.
the thing is - i was tired of stories about survival where someone with depression goes to therapy and wakes up okay. i didn't live like that. i was tired of books about violence, where the gore of what i experience was splashed in glitter to lick off the page. like, i was a person, you know? i had a life and a job and a family. and in books, i watched my story get ripped up so people could explore the viscera of my body. so they could feel good. my brother once called it inspiration pornography. we had walked out of a suicide-prevention seminar, both of us disgusted while the increasingly-elated presenter kept listing methods-of. i remember the look on my brother's face. like i would tear that man apart given the right time and place.
my father says that kids these days. he warns me against writing about things that are too-serious. he says that they don't want it. i don't listen. he does make me take out a scene from the book where i go to church after having sex with a woman. it used to be the 7th scene in the book. i don't think he's read further than that, it rocked him too hard to continue.
it's a book about being queer. it's a book about being raised catholic. it doesn't have monsterfucking, i'm sorry. it's just about, like.
at some point you have to choose to stay here. and then you do have to stay here, which takes practice. this is about forming the habit. this is about what happens after you've already started doing the work. because, like. you keep going. you have to. and it's like. very imperfect.
i should make a post on instagram. i should make this announcement less bittersweet. but like -- i'm giving it you, specifically, because i think you know why i had to write it. you and me. this little community.
body's a bad monster. here's the link if you're interested in ordering.
#i will never shut up about this#by the way . this is the book that u are trying to get me to eat#also available on other links!! barnes and noble and s&S#also btw i drew the cover :) they asked me to lol#btw this isn't self-published. this is like. book deal thru simon and schuster
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i LOVEEEE ur writing !!! can I request a bff gojo x fem reader where gojo starts to get close to another girl n the reader is kinda sad/worried ??? idk i was just thinking about the song dark red by steve lacy and the lyrics “only you my girl,only you babe” IT CAN BE SMUT OR SFW AAA
⋆ slightly angsty but also fluff because of course, we don't believe in sad endings in this house ‹3. jealous reader + oblivious satoru.
⋆ I was hearing that song while writing this and hello?!? it's so good like !!! so bff satoru coded waaaah, also thank you for the compliment, sending you many hugs 🩷
I will work on the bff satoru masterlist soon ^^
there have been moments in Satoru’s life when he felt uneasy, although none of those moments were strong enough to stick for more than a couple of hours, much less for a whole week. but you are a mystery.
he’s not certain why you’ve been refusing his hang out invitations, Satoru senses your coldness even through texts, the usual back and forth teasing no longer there, and replaced by a disgusting ‘k.’
Satoru’s phone bounces on the bed for the fifth time in the night, followed by his palms rubbing on his face and the slight tug on his soft, white hair in sheer frustration, you’re messing with his head, making his chest tug, and palms itch. the phone call goes straight to your voice mail, —most likely filled with his pleading voice. the option of visiting you is always present, but the blue eyed is certain your short, black haired roommate is already sick of him, eyes rolling behind the crystal of her glasses as she speaks in that annoyed tone, “i told you she’s not here”.
it’s all lies, Satoru knows it, he is your best friend and has already memorized your schedule by heart, “can you tell her I seriously need to speak to her?” Satoru responds, eyes filled with worry as he leans on your apartment doorframe, attempting to take a peek into the place, but quickly getting his hopes broken by the door smashing right in front of his face. for the nth time.
walking down the memory line didn’t work either, his focus was on the last time you hung out, on how your mood suddenly shifted after Satoru casually met with one of his new colleagues, who happened to be going in the same direction to you both, and her hand was awkwardly eager to be holding onto the white haired’s bicep. but then again, you were not a jealous person, and Satoru made sure to remind you how he’ll never replace your spot as his best friend.
“are you sure you’re alright, sweetheart?” he had asked that night, watching you mindlessly play with the hem of the blanket draped over your laps as you watched a movie, concern etched on his words.
“mhm, just tired” you mumble back, yet your eyes didn’t sparkle like they should, nor did they miss the way his phone rang with a text from the girl you saw earlier.
we should hang out soon ;)
and Satoru was quick to send a ‘sure!’ completely and utterly oblivious of the girl’s flirting.
“want me to leave? so you can take a nap” he says, brows furrowed and eyes locked on your face from above the rim of his dark glasses, he did not want to leave, but your health was more important; although in your ears his suggestion sounded more like a ‘i’ll leave so I can hang out with that girl’ and that bothered you quite a lot.
“yeah,” you’re quick to reply, standing up abruptly and dragging the blanket with you, “see you another time” and that was another lie, since you did not meet with Satoru in the next 3 days.
“fuck” he mutters, staring at the ceiling, strands of messy hair splayed on the pillow, “you’re not that busy... are you?” Satoru asks himself, about to slam his head against the wall.
it’s Sunday and he’s most likely looking like a stalker right now, pacing back and forth in front of your apartment complex, waiting for anything, until the sign comes, your roommate is quick to leave the building, a gym bag and a strange stick-like tool under her arm, and he knows you’re at home, of course he knows.
Satoru is up in three steps, and two knocks on your door. “Maki, did you forget your keys again?” your voice echoes in the room and his heart skips a beat.
“dunno where are yours but you can ta— Satoru...?” you ask, eyes widened slightly at the imposing form of your best friend towering above you.
“mm, i’m glad you still remember my name” he murmurs, attempting to tease but the sight of your tired face burns in his chest, flicking a single hair strand away from your forehead, “can I come in?”
you swallow, “what are you doing here?”
“pfft, can’t I visit my stunning best friend who has been ignoring my calls?”
“i haven’t...” you murmur, drifting your gaze and stepping back to allow him to get in, it was obvious Satoru were not going to leave any time soon, “i’ve been busy”
he snorts, splaying on the couch in your living room with long legs resting on the coffee table, “you’ve been worse and yet at least answer my texts” he taps the seat next to him, expecting for your thighs to brush like you always sit, but instead, your distance hurts.
“tell me what’s wrong”
“nothing’s wrong!” you say, slightly defensive, “i told you i’m busy”
“you were just fine a week ago, but got mad out of nowhere” Satoru speaks softly, squeezing your knee, not realizing the slight tremor running down your spine, “doll, if you’re jealous of—”
you clasp your hand on his mouth, “don’t finish that sentence” and Satoru’s eyes fill with realization, nodding like an obedient child.
“come on, I told you you’re my only best friend, darling” he whispers, sliding his hand from your knee and up your thigh, across your side until it settles on your nape.
“i don’t think what I feel is simple friendly jealousy.” the grip on the back of your neck tightens as soon as the words leave your mouth, breath hitching and eyes widening slight.
there’s a slight twitch in the corner of his lip at your confession, leaning in just briefly, “yeah?” he mutters, attempting —and failing miserably — at concealing a smirk, “are you in love with me?”
“don’t get too cocky” you mumble back, frowning but unable to tear your gaze away from his lips and eyes.
“you just admitted it” he grins brightly, a slight blush adorning his cheeks, brushing his nose across your jaw, “so that was the problem, hm? you’re so cute when you’re jealous”
“Satoru, i swear...” you start, mixed feelings of embarrassment and longing settling in your chest.
he sighs deeply, breath fanning over your skin where Satoru slides his lips across, inhaling your scent deeply, fuck... how much he missed you, “don’t ignore me again...“ he starts, ghost touches now turning into brief kisses on your jawline, trailing up until his lips press on the corner of your mouth and his thumb slides under your bottom lip, long fingers caging the side of your face, “...i like you too...” he breathes, meeting your gaze and flicking to your lips, “i just want you, only you, my girl”
reblog and/or comment if you want me to write the smut for this 🤭🎤
#𐔌᭥ᩙ༉#gojo satoru x reader#satoru x reader#gojou satoru x reader#gojo satoru#gojo x reader#jjk gojo#jjk fluff#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen fluff#satoru fluff#gojo satoru fluff
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Hii can you write where james and reader are both the only virgins in the group so decided to do it together to get it over with but then they started to do it more often bcs james is absolutely obsessed with her.
thank you for requesting, i hope you like this! requests are open!!
james potter x fem!reader, nsfw
becoming experts
james thinks maybe he should be embarrassed.
here he is, knocking on your door, standing at your doorstep with your favorite dessert in his hand. this is the third time in this week, and it won't be the last. he fixes his posture, puts a little smile on his face, and knocks on your door again. he is fine.
you open the door, wearing only your sleep shorts and a little tank top, which is both a blessing and a curse for james's poor heart. your hair seems a little messy, your face without any make up, and you look beautiful. your lips curve upwards when you see james at your doorstep, you are quick to pull him inside.
"hi, sweetheart." james says as he steps inside. "i hope this is not a bad time."
you look at him like he's said the silliest thing in the world. "come on, jamie, you know there's no such a thing as bad time for you."
"yeah, yeah, i'm glad." why is he acting so out of character? suddenly he's shy, blushing when you point at his hand.
"is that for me?" you ask, kind of shy but more comfortable than him.
he nods. "of course, there you go."
he gives you the box and you take it with a huge smile on your face. "thank you!"
james's heart takes a leap.
you lead him inside, your little living room looks cozy with all those blankets spread on your couch and the warm air covering the room. you take the dessert with two spoons, sitting on the couch and inviting james next to you. he takes off his jacket and kicks his shoes, sits next to you, hoping to be less awkward in the next moments of this act.
"would you like something to drink?" you ask.
james shakes his head. "no, maybe later."
you nod, taking a spoonful of your dessert. "this is perfect. literally the best thing in the world, thank you so much."
james laughs. "you're welcome, angel."
you look at his unused spoon. "why don't you eat?"
he doesn't know. his mouth is dry, he should get a grip on himself. "i'm-"
your lips look perfect around that spoon.
"you've got chocolate- here." he leans into your space slowly.
you smile, his fingers cup your cheek. "this is so cliche."
"you think so?" he whispers.
"you know," you begin. "if you want to kiss me, all you have to do is ask."
james leans back on the couch, suddenly free of shyness to jump on the opportunity. "what if i want more than just a kiss?"
"i'm sure we can do something about that." you take another spoon of chocolate sauce.
"oh, baby." james says, pulling you to his lap. "come here."
your hands are empty, you move quickly to him. your legs are on each side of his thighs and you sit gently. "how do you feel?" he asks, holding your hands.
"i'm fine. really, really good."
"you sound unnaturaly teasing. i thought that was supposed to be me."
you shrug. "i don't know, you act weird today. it's not like this is the first time we're being this close."
the best night of james's life was probably the night he'd spend at your apartment, in your bed. you were naked, so was he, the wine was kicking like a liquid courage as you had sex for the first time. you could expect weirdness between you two, you were both each other's first time and you had been friends for years, but it never happened. it felt so good and so right, james lost himself between your legs and you made sounds that you've never made before.
you were both inexperienced, subject of sirius's little teasings and remus's sympathetic looks when it comes to stuff about sex. you don't know how did things happened as they have that night, but suddenly you were kissing james. you could be afraid if this would ruin your friendship but at that moment everything was so good, you could never imagine the act could ever feel like this.
since that night, james had been to your apartment once more. he was just trying to make sure everything's okay between you and your friendship still stands. then, he was taking off his clothes and you were leaning towards him. you took his cock in your mouth for the first time and james forgot everything except your name.
now, here you are, trying to balance yourself on james's lap, keeping yourself still to not press against him. "james," you say. "it's okay. i- i want you too."
james throws his head back, his hands still holding yours. he looks at you through his glasses and smiles. "i just want you to feel good."
"i'm always feeling good when i'm with you." you say, honestly. "i think we fit each other really well and i- i want it, with you."
"yeah?" james pulls you closer. "you want it, pretty girl?"
you nod. james continues. "i guess we've got addicted." he says like it's a secret. "but that's okay. we can keep going as long as you're good with it."
you start the kiss and james exhales, finally. he cups your cheeks, angles your neck to deepen the kiss. you taste sweet, he licks the chocolate left on your lips. you whimper quietly, feeling him harden under you. this is good, you think. this is so perfect, it doesn't feel any wrong.
james's hands go to your back and he rubs your skin affectionally. he breaks the kiss to brush his lips on your pulse point. you take a breath, holding onto his shoulders. "james." you say. "i wanna go to bed."
he obliges, lifts you easily, and carries you to your bedroom. he is gentle when he puts you on bed, you are quick to take off your clothes. you are not shy to be naked around him, he makes you feel safe. you throw your clothes somewhere on the floor and settle down on bed, watching james.
he looks at you, eyes focused, and mouth slightly open. is he dreaming? this surely is better than any dream, you are lovely as you lay there and wait for him.
he doesn't intend to tease you or make you wait. you've been so honest and sweet with him, you deserve to get what you want. james makes a quick work of his clothes, leaving everything on the floor until he is bare in front of you. he gets on his knees on bed and reaches you. you part your legs obediently, without expecting a word from him.
"you're so pretty, sweetheart." james says, fondly. "you know that, right?"
you squirm under his hands. "jamie, please."
"you should know that." he says, kisses your chest. "you should be aware of the power you have on me."
you shake your head. "it's mutual, and you're being silly."
"let me be romantic for a second, yeah?" he kisses your perked nipple. "fuck, gonna give you everything you want."
"please." you say, losing your breath when he sucks your nipple. he likes using his mouth on you, you realize. he slowly goes down on your body and you laugh when he kisses below your belly button.
"tickles?" he asks, ever so playful.
you nod. "will you do it again?"
he answers by kissing the same spot over and over, turns you into a mess under his mouth. his fingers are quick to touch your cunt, he collects the wetness that starts pooling and rubs it all over. "will you let me taste you?" he asks, begging for a yes. "i wonder if you taste so sweet everywhere."
"you- i guess you can, if you want." you arch your back, subtly press your cunt against his mouth.
"if i want? i'm dying for it."
he buries his face between your legs, tries to get directing noises out of you. he's not experienced but he finds himself to be a quick learner when it comes to you. he licks the wetness out of you and pushes his tongue inside. you wrap your legs around his neck, the sensation is so strange but suddenly it starts feeling good. you remember the second time you had sex and how you felt insatiable to take his cock in your mouth. he must feel that way right now, you think, because he never stops making those wild noises as he uses his mouth.
james sucks your clit relentlessly. you whimper, his name becomes a song. he grips your thighs and holds you in your place. "james- so close- so clo- hmm-"
he lifts his head just for a second. "come for me, lovely girl. let go for me, this is perfect."
you obey, arch your back as he sucks again, and you're dripping in his mouth. james keeps licking, helps you through your peak. you feel so tired, so exhausted, so naked, and it's good. james keeps you steady, his cock twitches at the sight of your cunt, all swollen and licked.
"are you okay, baby?" he coos. "we can stop."
you shake your head. you can't stop because he's addictive. "i want you inside." there's no crumb of shyness left. "please, i want it."
james angles you to be more comfortable, he rubs the skin of your thigh. "gotta be slow, okay?" he says.
you nod, messy and desperate. "however you want."
he positions his cock in just the right way. he is being slow and quiet as he keeps pushing, he knows it's a tight fit. when you clench around him he can't help himself, he goes a little fast. "oh, angel." he whispers, mouth closed on your neck. he pushes himself again. "so tight, just like the first time i got you like this. you're gonna make me come soon if you squeeze around me like that."
you part your legs a little more, holding onto his broad shoulders. "i like this so much. so full, jamie."
james starts moving inside you, still careful but easier. you try to move your hips accordingly, it's like a new dance both of you are trying to learn better. he is worried he'll come too soon, because you're being irresistable.
"can you touch me- right, right there?" you ask, position his fingers on your clit.
"yeah, yeah, of course."
his fingers play with you until you start begging for him to come. he keeps pushing himself until he can't see straight anymore. "can i come? james, can i come again?" you melt, so close and so wet, you can hear the wetness pooling on bed.
"yes, come on, sweet thing." he pushes the deepest he's ever been, you clench so hard, he starts coming. "come with me."
you are sure you lose your sight for a second. james explodes on your belly, his strength helps him pull himself back before coming inside you but he keeps playing with your clit so you clench around him and nothing as you come. you see him, you see stars, you feel so sensitive. james groans as he holds his cock to let out every drop of his cum. he exhales your name, desperate to lay down with you on the bed. you are quick to pull him on your chest, he puts his head on your body, and listens your heartbeat.
minutes pass in silence as you both catch your breaths. james rubs your skin with gentle fingers. you stroke his curls, and press a kiss on his forehead.
"i think we're getting pretty good at this." you say, smiling.
"yeah, i guess we are quite the experts of sex now." he says. "can you imagine sirius's reaction?"
"oh, he'd probably never believe it." you say. "but that's fine."
james sits on bed. "would you like to have shower? we've made quite the mess of each other."
you nod, reach for his hand as you sit next to him. "jamie," you begin, "there's no one else that i'd rather do this with. you're- you're the only one for me."
james smiles, kisses your forehead lovingly. "i'd hope so, sweetness." he gives your hand a squeeze. "you're the only one for me, as well."
♡
(you can check here to find out about sirius and remus's reactions lovelies.)
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