#Other pertinent tags would be

[stiwfssr]

[nana-au]

could you write an inumaki smut where reader asks him to use his cursed speech on her>.< BTW I LOVE YOUR WRITING SO MUCH ITS SO GOOOOD

haii anon, ur wish is my command! i hope you like the direction i took with this! it starts out dramatic, but i thought it would be fun to have a backstory. sorry if it made it too long tho ;( thank you so much for the request and the compliment! all luv ♡♡♡

𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔'𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎𝐋𝐃

Toge Inumaki ♡

₊˚ପ⊹ summary: you survive an attack by a curse all thanks to your boyfriend, toge, but for some reason you can’t stop thinking about what else his cursed technique might be able to do. 

₊˚ପ⊹ warnings: graphic violence, minor character death, angst/hurt/comfort, wet dream, f!receiving oral, f!masturbation, unprotected sex, semi-rough sex, stomach bulging, hitting your cervix, creampie

₊˚ପ⊹ a/n: toge is aged up to a young adult (around 20-24) with an established relationship to reader. toge communicates with reader via sign language. i’m a little hesitant to tag this as dom! toge but he gets pretty rough in this. also i gave him a long dick... lol. 

₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 5.9k+

MDNI

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Somehow, someway, you had gone your entire relationship with Toge having never experienced the other part of his life. The part he so desperately shielded you from, only ever vaguely explaining his line of work. The day that all changed, you couldn’t fathom the way things used to be. How you used to leave your house without a second thought and how you weren’t sick with concern when Toge was called away with work.

You remember it like it was yesterday. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

“You want?” he signed to you, eyes crinkling in a smile. Your cheeks flushed realizing you had stopped in the middle of the street to stare inside an arcade. You couldn’t help it when you saw a claw machine from where you two were walking. Your favorite Sanrio character sat pretty inside the glass and Toge, being your doting boyfriend, made it his mission to win it for you. 

You two worked together to edge it closer and closer to the shallow drop built into the machine, but it sure wasn’t turning out to be an easy task. You patted him on the back, telling him it was okay if he couldn’t get it – that you loved him regardless for trying so hard. But you should have known better than to say that. He wasn’t going to stop until he had that stuffed animal in your arms, no matter how thin his wallet was starting to feel. Under his thick scarf his tongue stuck out in concentration, studying all sides of the machine before letting the arm down again. It latched, and you two stood still holding your breaths. The claw made its way over to the slot, weakly holding onto the tag of the plushie, swinging it side to side. The both of you leaned impossibly close, not believing what was in front of your eyes. The stuffed animal inched over the plastic edge, putting up resistance and shaking the claw. You gasped, eyes wide as you willed the claw to maintain its strength. Just as it made it over the edge, the claw released and the soft body of your new friend hit the bottom of the slot. You didn’t even have a moment to celebrate when the ground shook violently, screams piercing the air. Your head whipped towards the street, watching as people ran down the street frantically shoving each other while trying to get away from something you couldn’t see. It was mere seconds that you went from standing in front of the claw machine to feeling Inumaki’s strong hands pulling you into him. You met his wild eyes and if you weren’t terrified before, seeing the flash of fear in his face was enough to make your entire body shake. Being a regular human you were completely blind and deaf to the curse just a few yards up the street, screeching and gurgling as it tore through the crowd but from the look on his face you knew. You were terrified, and so was he. 

He didn’t find it pertinent to explain in the moment but he had dealt with curses his entire life; he couldn’t feel fear in the face of even the strongest curse at this point, but the knowledge that you were so close to danger had bile burning the walls of his throat. He wasted almost no time dragging you to the back of the arcade and into the ‘employee’s only’ supply closet. If he wasn’t deeply opposed to using his cursed technique on the people he loved he would have commanded you to sit and stay until he came back for you. Instead he signed it, pleading with his eyes for you to listen. You nodded and he squeezed your hand before kissing your forehead. His silent promise he would be back soon. 

When soon came and went you began to get antsy. A couple of patrons and employees hid along with you, all of you huddled together in fear as chaos tore through the commercial district. You didn’t dare consider coming out of hiding without Toge’s say-so, and you didn’t for quite some time. But time kept passing with no sign of him or the curse. Not that you could hear it anyways. You held your breath in anticipation, ears focused for any sign of danger. That was when you heard a voice. First it was a couple of faint whimpers that soon turned into desperate screams. The people hidden with you kept still, not daring to find the source of the sound. At first you ignored it, wanting to obey your boyfriend’s simple command meant to keep you safe – but it became too much for you. From her voice alone you could hear how much pain she was in and that being the only noise you heard in a while, it lulled you into a sense of security. Against your better judgment and against what Toge wanted, you got up, softly opening the door of the stuffy closet you were hidden in before crouching cautiously through the arcade. As you got closer to the street you began to shake again. The streets were almost unrecognizable. The decorations you saw not even an hour ago were strewn across the pavement, along with merchandise from various stores and trampled food from the vendors that lined the strip. You even noted how some buildings' entire structures were missing, leaving jagged craters where the pieces of stone once resided.  You let out a huff, remembering why you came out in the first place, finally stepping out of the doorless entryway. You peered your head, trying to find the woman you were looking for, struggling to see anyone amongst the ruined street. 

It took you a moment, but the sounds of her struggle got louder and louder until you noticed a hand peeking out from some rubble. You got on your knees immediately, clearing the debris around you until her face came into view. 

“Oh thank god!” she cried out, relieved to see another human being. “Help me please! I’m stuck,” at her words you began to realize her figure was pinned beneath a large chunk of stone, just barely propped up by another equally large slab, keeping her torso from being completely flattened.

“It looks really heavy,” you responded, barely above a whisper, your nerves still on high alert. “I’ll try my best,” you promised her, not wanting to show how doomed the situation looked from your perspective. You weighed out the option of sitting with her while you waited for help. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you ended up seriously injuring her, but you didn’t want to just give up without trying. You got to work, bracing yourself before using all of your strength against the slab that currently kept her pinned to the ground. You struggled to get the chunk to even budge, a drop of sweat falling from your hairline. The woman began wailing from the realization that your attempt was futile, panic overwhelming her again.

“You can’t get it? Oh god… I’m gonna die here!” her words tore through the air and you leaned in close, trying to shush her.

“I’m trying my best!” you pleaded with her, “please ma’am,” you begged, still scared to speak too loudly. She couldn’t hear you under the loud noises of her own terror, her screeches echoing in the street. Your throat grew dry, desperately trying to plead with the woman to keep her voice down. “Please we have to be quiet,” you begged, tempted to cover her mouth with your palm to keep her voice down. Fat tears dropped on the pavement, her shrill cries only getting louder. “Pleas-” your final plea was interrupted by a wave of hot fluid covering your face. You barely closed your eyes in time before you were covered in the blood of the woman in front of you. Upon realizing the horror of what happened, you saw the creature in front of you; its muscular form shook from the force of its laugh, admiring what it had done. And what it did was jump on the stone, bringing it down onto her body and forcefully crushing her, causing a spray of her blood and guts to cover you and the surrounding area. Staring up at the ugly, bulging figure in front of you, you realized this is what a curse is. Its skin was an unnatural blue. Its eyes – no, single eye, was swollen; covering half of its face. Could you even consider that a face? 

It was a creature that had to have been dredged up from the pits of hell and you shuddered at the realization your boyfriend saw this and worse on a daily basis. Tears welled up in your eyes. You were proud and grateful and terrified and about twelve other emotions as you considered the fact your boyfriend did everything he could to keep people like you from ever having to see a face that ugly. 

Your vision became unfocused, your entire body frozen in fear as the hideous thing in front of you giggled to itself, blathering complete gibberish while its long arm reached out to you. You would have never assumed yourself to be one to freeze in a near death situation, but you did.

(Looking back you wonder if your body had accepted its fate before your brain did). 

You began to understand that you weren’t going to be one of those innocent people Toge saved. The thought of it tore you from the inside, but it wasn’t enough to get your body to cooperate with your racing mind. You were going to die. Brutally and forcefully – and Toge was going to hate himself forever for it.   

The curse’s hand covered your throat, its meaty hand squeezing your delicate neck before its movement was cut off abruptly by a booming, “EXPLODE!”

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

That night Toge cried as he cleaned the blood and goo from your figure. His sobs were almost devoid of sound and you weren’t in any state to register the tears that fell from his eyes; but he was as he scrubbed the gore from you. You were in complete shock after the events, hardly registering the warm bath water or the rough washcloth he held in his hand, swiping over the skin of your forehead for the hundredth time. Like he was desperately trying to remove the memory of what occurred from your mind.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

A month passed by and arguing became your new norm with Inumaki. Every time his phone rang indicating a new curse needed to be exercised, (and that happened often), you two went to war; with you begging him to get a new job, and him, insisting that was not an option for him. Your conclusion from the event was that you didn’t ever want him in a position as deadly as facing a curse again. While his conclusion from that day was there were so many yous out there that needed his protection. People were unknowingly counting on him to bring their loved ones home safe. He didn’t want anyone to experience what he almost had. It was pertinent that he save as many people as he could from the grief of losing someone so important.

You just didn’t understand why it had to be your boyfriend doing the saving. It was a selfish thought, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to feel guilty for thinking it.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

More months went by and the hurricane that was once your relationship had calmed again, and things were as normal as both of you could manage after that day. You two shared snacks while you played Mario Party, laughing together as you both tried your hardest to screw the other one over. Usually to the detriment of each other. After the third game you both managed to lose to the NPCs, silence washed over your living room. Neither of you wanted to acknowledge the fact that silences were no longer comfortable in your relationship.

“You ok?” he signed to you, his brows furrowing, indicating he wanted more than a simple ‘yes’ or ‘no’. 

You take a shaky breath, “I just can’t get it out of my mind..” you begin to trail off and he roughly shakes his head, like he was trying to rid the thought from his own brain. He hated talking about what happened, that being part of the reason silences just didn’t feel the same anymore because you just couldn’t not talk about it. He didn’t expect you to be okay already, but he also wasn’t okay. You two were on opposite sides of the spectrum. You needed the emotional release words brought but he started to suffocate the second those words were out in the air.

You ignore his nonverbal cues to stop, bulldozing through them. “No, Toge, I need to talk about it,” he is still begging you with his eyes to stop but you don’t acknowledge it. “Toge, I’m scared to leave the house!” you don’t realize how loud you are until his usual silence contrasts with your voice. You embrace your negative emotions, only getting louder, “I’m more scared watching you leave!” 

“No. Don’t. I’m fine,” his eyes plead with you. You already know you have no reason to fear his safety, especially when compared to yours but your irrational anxiety doesn’t care.

“I’m scared you will leave one day and never come back,” and after you say that your bottom lip begins to quiver and your tears pool at the bottom of your eyes and he’s quick to pull you into his lap; stroking your hair and planting kisses on your temple. He desperately wants to tell you not to worry about him, but it’s hypocritical because he hasn’t let you so much as walk down the block without him. He can’t find the words to comfort you and he’s stuck with nothing else to do but hold you in his arms and wipe your tears as they fall. He pulls back from your embrace to look into your eyes. His eyebrows are drawn up in concern for you, his eyes locking onto yours. Even as you drown in your sadness you can’t help but smile meekly at your boyfriend. You love how expressive his face is and the fact you don’t even need sign language to know what he is thinking and feeling. His sharp jaw is clenched, mouth twitching as he focuses on trying to read your own features. You think what you love even more about his face being an open book is how handsome it is – and how you never want to go a day without seeing it. You lean in slowly, touching your lips to his softly and he responds by pulling you even closer, his palm flat on your upper back. He deepens it, eyes fluttering shut from the feeling of your plush lips on his. And he’s not the only one thinking about how he never wants to go a day without your beautiful face.

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

To say your sex life suffered after that incident would be an understatement. You couldn’t find it in you to even consider something as trivial as sex while you stewed in your emotional turmoil; but as more time passed and the more you recovered the more even the most simple of touches from your boyfriend drove you crazy. His bare knee bumping against yours on the couch as you two played video games together or his hand grazing yours while you two worked together to cook dinner in your kitchen – it all made you mad. You felt like a virgin all over again – it was becoming impossible to ignore the innocent things he did that drove you mad. The mere sight of him stretching, arms raised and mouth in a yawn, revealing the happy trail that sat between his defined v-line – it made you feel like a Victorian man seeing a woman’s ankle for the first time. Even watching the way he ran his fingers through his hair, causing the light blonde tufts to stick up and frame his dreamy face in the morning was enough to spike a high grade fever in you.

It really should have been no surprise to you when you fell asleep one night, only to dream of his blonde tufts sticking out from between your thighs. His tongue languidly lapping at your folds, his eyes never leaving yours. 

“F-fuck Toge,” you whimper, his flat muscle pressing deliciously against your clit. Your body shudders from pleasure, thighs threatening to squeeze his head but his strong arms hold them against the bed. His hips rut into the mattress, trying to relieve his aching cock as he sucked your pleasurable little nub, reeling at the cute noises you were making. “God it feels so good,” you sigh, unable to keep your hips still as he continued his attack. You can’t help but grab your tits, squeezing them roughly in your small hands as you run your thumbs over your hardened nipples – tweaking and pulling at them to enhance your pleasure. You forgot Toge was watching you, too caught up in your own little world – so when your hands go back down to grab your sheets you’re shocked to hear his rough voice.

“Keep teasing your nipples,” he begs. Your head lifts from the bed to see the spit and arousal that drips from his chin, his eyes drinking you in. You only have a moment to feel the shock of hearing his voice – realizing you had only ever heard it that day and through your dream state you recognize you don’t have an option not to obey him, hands reaching for your chest again. He goes back to what he was doing, using his flat tongue to lick a stripe from your entrance all the way to your clit before flicking the tip of it lightly against your clit. You’re squeezing your nipples, shaking with amplified lust realizing he’s the reason why you’re hands glued to your chest, working yourself up along with his mouth.  “Answer me, does my tongue feel good?” and not a second passes before you tell him yes, your chest heaving and entrance clenching, never realizing how much you needed his voice while he’s making you feel this good. You’re still tweaking your nipples, body unconsciously waiting for him to tell you to stop and you’re not sure how much longer you’re going to be able to last when he asks you, “Does my good girl want me to tell her to come on my tongue?” your body alights with intoxicating arousal as you’re telling him yes. It comes out needy and more like a beg and his tongue between your folds becomes sloppy listening to you lose yourself to him. His lips form a seal around your nub, sucking harshly before going back to licking it, speeding up his movements. The entire time his eyes have not left yours but you were so lost in pleasure yours had begun to shut… and Inumaki thought that just won’t do. “Eyes on mine,” you barely have time to process his gruff voice before you obey him, opening your eyes to meet his, half lidded with lust. You bite your lower lip and he grunts into your sopping pussy, the vibration enough to make you want to roll your eyes back but they’re glued to his no matter what. 

“I want to grab your hair,” you beg him, hands still working your sensitive nipples, causing you to wince as each pinch reaches deeper and deeper into your core. He pulls away from your lips, taking a moment to kiss the inside of your thigh before giving you permission. 

“Go ahead, grab my hair,” your hand flies down to his head, fisting his blond locks and shoving his face into your pussy. He’s back to moaning into your plush lips at your needy actions, trying desperately to ease the pain from his hard on by massaging his hips against your soft mattress. Before long you’re shaking under his tongue and you were gonna come even without his command but dream Toge knew it was exactly what you needed. His lips detached from your sopping cunt, eyes droopy and chest heaving before he whispered, “Cum for me baby,” and your pleasure reached its peak. Fuck that. It reaches the peakest of peaks. You have never felt an orgasm as strong as you do right now. Your hips shake violently at his command, pleasure tearing its way through you, not leaving a single nerve untouched as you come hard. You’re practically crying, your dreamself not sure about the logistics of his technique, but it settles on you not being able to stop cumming unless he tells you to. 

You wake up in your own sticky mess, your core still alight from the intensity of your dream while you desperately try to catch your breath. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Thankfully you had woken up in bed alone, giving you ample time to clean up and throw the sheets in the wash. You spent your entire day off in a daze, doing your tasks on autopilot while being unable to stop thinking about the dream you had. You weren’t sure how you were going to be able to look Inumaki in the eyes once he got back from whatever mission he was called to while you slept – and you weren’t sure you would even be capable of ignoring the constant pulsing need once you finally saw his face. You would surely picture the one from your dream, eyes clouded with desire and mouth coated with your slick. You used your hand to fan yourself, your thoughts making you hot all over. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

It didn’t take long before you found yourself back in the bed the two of you share. The sheets now fresh and warm as they embraced your naked figure. You found it impossible to ignore the promising call of relief once you finished making the bed – giving in and stripping off your clothes, crawling into his spot. You started slowly, teasing the soft skin of your stomach. Trailing your fingers lightly up and down your taut belly, your muscles stiff with excitement. Your nipples hardened from the cool air and you brought one hand up to rub the peak, remembering the contents of your dream – causing you to sigh listlessly. While your one hand focused on your pebbled nipple your other drifted lower and lower until it reached your soft folds, already damp with your arousal. Your middle digit dipped into your entrance, spreading your slick around and teasing the velvety skin. 

You took your time teasing your pussy, working yourself up and disappearing into your own world. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

Inumaki wasn’t sure where you had gone when he came back home later that day, slick with perspiration and muscles aching from a hard day of work. He began stripping off his dirt-caked clothes before making it to the bathroom, taking off the remainder of his clothes and stepping into the shower, letting the hot water run down his body. He scrubbed the dirt and sweat from his skin quickly, eager to get out and find out where you went. It was unusual for you not to be in the living room waiting for him and ever since that incident it made him anxious to not know where you were at all times — but he trusted if you left the house you would have told him. You must be somewhere inside. 

It didn't take long for him to finish rinsing off the residual bubbles from his body before he grabbed his towel, quickly drying off and stepping out of the tub. He massaged the towel through his locks, shaking off the remaining water droplets hanging from his light blond strands before tying the towel around his waist. Without much thought, he decided to check your shared bedroom first. 

He walked down the hall to the door of your shared bedroom, pushing open the cracked door before stopping dead in his tracks – mouth agape at the sight in front of him: Your naked body was splayed out on the plush covers of your bed, eyes closed, and eyebrows drawn up in concentration – fingers knuckle deep in your cunt. His mouth grew dry while he watched you touch yourself – still unaware of his presence. “Toge,” you whimpered out, “Want you to tell me to, mmm-!” your finger curled, grazing against the spongy spot of your pussy, “-tell me to play with my tits again,” you cry out. He almost chokes on air listening to your words, dick tenting in the towel around his waist. His mind races, trying to fathom what you had just said – struggling to focus through the sounds of your wet pussy filling the room.

“Do you really want me to say that?” he said aloud, his throat constricting from the unfamiliar feeling of using his voice around you. He had only ever communicated with you through sign language – far too scared to accidentally hurt you with his cursed technique. But here you were, squirming on the bed while you touched yourself to the thought of him telling you what to do – and it had been so long since he last got to feel your plush walls squeeze around his cock…

Your body jumped in surprise but you didn’t have the chance to do anything other than respond honestly to him, an urgent ‘yes’ quickly leaving your lips. “Toge, I didn’t realize you were home-” you start to explain yourself, embarrassed he caught you as you were wrapped up in your fantasy. You sit up, leaning against your elbows but he stops you by climbing onto the bed  – pinning your body between his two arms. 

He tries to consider everything he should say to you. If he was in any better of a state he would have stopped what was happening to talk about why it was so important for him to keep his mouth shut. It was pertinent he protected you from himself. As a regular human you had no clue what kind of responsibility he held with his cursed technique. He made a promise to himself that he would never talk outside of his missions. He was too scared to ever hurt someone – or to tell them to do something they couldn’t help but obey by the power of his words alone. It was important for you to realize this; it was also important for him to stop the filthy thoughts swirling around his own mind that made his dick twitch from under the towel. Guilt swirled in his stomach as he pictured exactly what he wanted to say to you – to make you do. If he was in any better of a state the guilt wouldn’t have been clouded by the intoxicating feeling of his need, telling him to do whatever it took to have you. 

“Do you really want me to?” he says aloud again, giving you one more chance to think about it before he could no longer hold himself back. Your ‘yes’ was only louder this time, eyes pleading as you shook with anticipation. “Take my towel off,” he says, throat bobbing as he watched you immediately do as you were told. He shuddered at the cool air as it hit his wet tip, precum dripping down the long shaft. He contemplated his next words, debating if he should have you take his cock in your mouth or if he should skip to his favorite part. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, and you had no choice but to obey. It was disgusting how much he was starting to enjoy this, your eyes lidded with want as you did what you were told. You would have done anything he asked even without his cursed technique – he knew this. That’s why while he felt guilty it wasn’t going to stop him from sticking two fingers into your mouth, massaging your tongue. “Suck my fingers, baby,” your mouth closed on his digits, sucking sweetly on his fingers while he continued to wiggle them around. His fingers began reaching deeper into your mouth – almost touching your throat causing you to gag a little. Regardless, you were still sucking on them with all you had and his hips bucked at the thought of his cock replacing his fingers. But with how sensitive he currently was he knew he wasn’t going to last very long – and your mouth wasn’t the place he wanted to cum in. His eyes wandered down to your cunt, lips slick with your arousal from when you had finger fucked yourself earlier – the skin a little red from your needy actions. Without much thought, he began to stroke his long cock with the hand that wasn’t currently in your mouth, his want growing watching you squirm. He took his fingers from your mouth, moving them down to your left nipple and massaging the bud between his two wet digits. “Are you ready for me?” he asked, not sure how much longer he could stand stroking himself to the sight of your naked body without slipping into your wet folds. 

“God yes,” you cried, trying desperately to relieve yourself by grinding against nothing. His hand came down to your hip, using his other to line his cock up to your entrance. He dragged the tip against your folds, spreading your juices around the head of his cock before plunging in. You were incredibly tight even from your warm up, having not taken his length in months. He tried his best to stay still, letting you adjust to the burning stretch but you were so wet and so so so warm, it was hard for him to not bully his way in – he shook from the sheer idea of forcing you to take him as he wanted you to. His eyes were glued to his cock as half of him was buried in your folds, swallowing thickly as he pushed in more and more of himself. You hiccupped, slapping his forearm as a warning that it hurt and he stopped. His eyes met yours and they were just like your dream. Lidded in desire and mouth wet – now from his own spit from constantly licking his lips as he imagined himself tasting you. He hated having to rush things – wanting to do so much more with you but the thought of your pussy twitching on his tongue alone was enough to make him want to bust right then and there. He was swallowing roughly again, concentrating on the task at hand, pushing even deeper inside you. You just about took all of him, but you stopped him yet again and he snapped. Your pussy was sucking him in! Your pretty cunt wanted all of him and who was he to not give her what she wanted? “Take my cock,” he spoke, voice gruff and commanding. He slid the rest of the way in and you didn’t so much as blink, allowing him to fill you up. 

“Too big Toge-” you whined, his tip pushing up against the base of your stomach causing you to squirm. His hand came down to feel himself inside you, pushing gently against the bulge.

“D’you feel how deep I am?”

“Yes-” you gasped, “You’re deep! Soo deep,” and he was impossibly deep. He didn’t acknowledge your words, head thrown back and mouth hung open as he started to move – dragging his length slowly out before bullying it back inside. Your ribbed walls squeezed his dick, encouraging him to continue his slow assault. 

“Rub your clit f’me,” he choked out, wanting you to get yourself to open up more. To let him in just a little deeper. He knew you could. 

You had no choice but to reach for your clit, feeling just below it how his cock was stretching your entrance wide open. You rubbed slow circles on it, gasping at the overwhelming feeling causing your walls to constrict against him. His arms came down to hold your thighs against the bed, wanting to get a good angle of his cock as it disappeared over and over again inside of you. He was in his own world at this point, savoring the way your cunt gripped his cock as you cried out from the stretch. He knew he could manage to go even deeper – if only he had you on your stomach. He pulled out suddenly, flipping you around and pushing your head into the pillows. His strong hands angled your hips upwards towards his own. His right arm slithered up your back before reaching the center, “Arch your back, baby…” you obey him and he’s squeezing your waist, “Good girl. So pretty when you do what you’re told,” he praises you. He’s lining his cock up again, pushing himself in deep without giving you a second to process it. Your soft cries were muffled by the pillows as he had his way with you; pussy being pounded from behind, his balls slapping against your clit as his nails dug into you. “Fuck,” he cursed, dragging out the syllables as the wet sounds of your pussy echoed off the bedroom walls. His thumb began to massage your sides where he held you, forgetting he could use his voice – becoming so pussy drunk he went back to his old way of letting you know he was about to cum. You started to squirm again, prepared to take his hot load while not far off from your own release. You could tell he was getting closer and closer. He began to whimper and his cock couldn’t help its occasional twitch as it pounded over and over again into your cervix. “C-cum with me, please,” he begged, unknowingly forcing you over the edge. He was far too lost to realize what he had done but it didn’t matter at that point as you two reached your peaks together. His cum coated your walls – rope after rope shooting into you, his cock pushing it deeper and deeper as he fucked you through your peak. You had a similarly blinding orgasm from your dream, squirming and bucking your hips, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cried out into the pillow. Your pussy clamped down hard on him, squeezing and releasing as you had no choice but to experience the best climax of your life. He leaned over your figure, brushing your hair off your back as he kissed your neck, your slick and his cum slipping out as his cock began to soften inside of you. You were still whining, unable to stop the intensity at which you were cumming. His hands ran soothing patterns on your back as you completely collapsed into the bed – twitching against the sheets until you finally felt it subsiding. Slowly but surely you came down, your chest heaving as Toge peppered you with kisses. 

“That was okay. Right?” He asked you in sign language – going back to his preferred method of communication with you. You nodded, a smile working itself onto your face as you began to giggle. 

“That was … incredible,” his eyes scrunched up, chuckling along with you, pulling you into his naked chest and holding you tight to him. 

𓂃⊹ ִֶָ

It had been a long road before things had gone back to normal with Inumaki. Even so – not everything was the way it used to be, but that wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. You two learned a lot from the aftermath of that day; including just how powerful his words could be. 

[shadowsndaisies]

dogfighting 101: 04 - 'nix is sick of this shit

wc: 595

synopsis: phoenix prides herself on knowing almost everything pertinent, it's the parts she doesn't know that leaves her on edge.

main masterlist

athena-verse master post

a/n: the support with this universe has been incredible, thank you all so much, i really enjoy being able to write shorter pieces as an outlet while working on my 10k an update longer series. (ps: taglist is still open!)

“Okay. What the hell is going on?” Natasha's voice is firm.

Bob to his credit seems a little anxious from where he's stood a few feet behind her. He's obviously trying to respect your privacy, but something tells you he's also there to be a witness for whatever this confrontation was about.

“You're going to have to specify Phoenix,” you tell her flatly.

You were sat on a bench in the locker room, redoing your hair before your next run. You’d needed a moment to splash some water on your face and refocus. Bob and ‘Nix were still in their gear as well, they were next on the rotation.

“Where do I even start? You and Rooster? Him and Maverick? How about Harvard and Yale’s attitude too?” she huffs and you meet her gaze challengingly.

“Don’t worry about it,” is all you offer in response.

Natasha lets out a groan, and Bob winces. “Well it's too late for that!” she huffs, very clearly annoyed.

“Leave it alone, ‘Nix,” you tell her, tone serious.

“No! I have never heard you shout at someone like that, especially not while in the air! Honestly, I’ve never heard Rooster get that wound up either! What the fuck is going on?”

“Seriously, Nat, just drop it,” you tell her, shaking your head.

“I can't! I won’t! I’m going on this mission Athena, you know it and I know it. I don't know why Hangman only ever listens to you, or why he leaves every one else out to dry, but I do not want him leading that team. I need it to be you and Rooster. But if you and Rooster can't fucking get along we're all screwed.”

You frown at her and you understand where she's coming from, but part of you can’t help but stay closed off, especially about this. “Nat, we don't have the time, and honestly… honestly it’s none of your business,” you say voice firm.

The look in her eye turns hard, but you stand your ground. You’d always been able to give it to each other straight, calling the other out when necessary, and drawing hard lines when needed. This was one of those times.

“This isn’t like you, and it’s not like Rooster and there’s something going on that you’re both ignoring,” she decides.

There’s a lot we’re ignoring, you want to say. “Let it go, Trace. Final warning,” you say instead, you’re honestly not entirely sure what will happen if she keeps pushing, you’re not sure you want to see who would win in a battle of wills between the two of you, you know you both will get hurt in the process.

She seems to have the same realization because instead of pushing further, she lets out another groan, “This isn’t over!” she shouts as she stomps off, a bashful Bob in tow.

“I would never dream,” you mutter sarcastically after her, tucking your hair back up, and then heading back to the waiting room.

You want to say the cold water and redoing your hair helped, but you feel just as exhausted as you did after stalking off the tarmac leaving Bradley behind. You see him when you walk in, and his eyes focus on you. Your lips tug down and you turn looking for your next partner.

You spot Fritz still waiting by your gear, and you offer a tense smile as you pick up your vest and sling it back on.

“Ready?” he asks.

“Yeah, let’s hit it,” you confirm, before following him back down to the tarmac.

...

everything: @butterfly-skinnylegend

athena’s tags: @omgbrianab @smoothdogsgirl @bazellawriz @sbrewer21 @inky-sun @djs8891 @rory-cakes @geeksareunique @je6291 @kee-0-kee @fanreader75 @whoismurphyslaw @samanddeaninatrenchcoat

[macabr3-barbi3]

dream a little dream (of me) - chapter 4

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

With new abilities comes fun- and some new problems.

SLOW MOVING BUT WE'RE GETTING THERE FOLKS- have a healthy dose of both plot and angst bc I have no self control hehehe

Those that asked to be tagged (if I missed you or tagged by mistake I AM SORRY AHHH)! @fraugwinska (MY LOVE MY DEAR MY MUSE 💛) @aconstructofamind @littlebluefishtail @spottypug @dennsfz

@bishiglomper @ivebeenthearchersstuff @martinys-world @minamilinaqueen

Tags: Dream Sex; Dreamsharing; Vaginal Sex; Rough Sex; Light Bondage; Dreamwalking; Clone Sex; Threesome - F/M/M; Tentacles; Overstimulation; Angst

Comments and feedback are always loved and appreciated thank u and enjoy 🫶

In the weeks following Alastor ripping his stitches open, you are careful to avoid his dreams- and his bed- so that he can properly recover this time. After his wound heals, when Alastor starts stepping out for errands away from the Hotel again, you start practicing your newfound abilities.

You nap in your own room at times when Husk is off duty and start small- knocking over bottles on the shelf while he speaks with Angel or Charlie in his dreams. Loosening his bowtie so he has to fix it when it starts dangling off his throat. Replacing the alcohol in his glass with various juices and other liquids- and okay, maybe replacing all of the vodka with water was a step too far, since that’s what eventually made Husk start looking around the lobby in suspicion in his dreams. You just hovered on the outer edges of his consciousness, hidden in the shadows of the lobby and watching, messing with things a bit.

Niffty was next, and under any other circumstances you would have felt bad about conjuring a wave of roaches from the closet she was about to open; the little cyclops had a blast though, pulling out her tiny dagger and stabbing away as she was carted off down the hallway, giggling maniacally. It was during this dream that you realized you could vanish, blend into the background of the dreamscape as easily as Alastor shifted into shadows. Niffty had no clue you were there as she rode the wave of bugs into consciousness.

There was only so much that you could really test without the person knowing about it- you didn’t want to try your luck with Vaggie or Charlie without knowing the extent of your abilities, so you finally cave and ask Alastor for permission to enter his dreams to practice some things; simple conjuring, your disappearing act, just generally testing how much control you really had. He also offered up use of his pocket dimension to test the range of your power, which was the first thing that you did together.

Technically with this knowledge you could have figured out a room in the hotel that would prevent you from being close to anyone as you slept. But who wants to climb those extra sets of steps? Better to just stay in Alastor’s room, you figured.

So here you were, in Alastor’s dream version of the bayou, a clearing in the forest laid before you. “The first thing that we should consider,” he tells you, “is that you may not be the only person with powers such as you have. If this is the case, it’s pertinent that both of us learn to distinguish between what is created by the dreamer’s own mind, and what is conjured with your powers. Duplicate this,” he demands, and when he holds out his hand he has a book that he transfers to you before turning around. You concentrate on it, manifesting an identical copy in your opposite hand. Last second, you swap the hand that holds each book before Alastor turns around and takes them back.

He inspects them closely before he gives you back the one that you had created. “It’s very subtle,” he says with a hum, “but if you look and feel closely you can find the differences. Whether that is a matter of your current lack of experience or a side effect of your powers we’ll have to determine.” You run your hands over both of them, actually inspecting rather than just holding them, and can’t find anything different between them. When you tell Alastor this, he simply provides something else for you to duplicate; a silk robe.

This time when you create yours, you take a moment to feel beyond what is in your hand and you think you know what he’s talking about; there’s something a little less corporeal about it even though it’s solid in your hands, the edges almost a little fuzzy if you look too closely. You focus a little harder to see if you can fix that and the lines of the robe sharpen. Satisfied, you have Alastor turn around again, and this time he looks pleasantly surprised.

“Good girl,” he says. “You’re a quick study.” You repeat the exercise a couple more times, the items increasing in size from a radio to a log, finally stumping Alastor with a duplicated taxidermy raccoon- you bring them both to life, and they scamper about between Alastor’s legs before running off into the bayou, evidently vanishing with a snap of his fingers and then yours.

“Excellent,” Alastor commends you, and you glow with the praise, facing away from him still from having turned to watch the raccoons. “We both can tell how to tell your items from those created by the dreamer- now we’ll see if there’s any distinct difference between the dreamer themselves and, say, a duplicate created as a distraction.”

Your inquiry as to what he means is answered when you turn around to face him, and instead of one Alastor there are two.

The pulse of heat in your core at being caught in two of those predatory gazes was distracting, but you could put it aside. “Got it. So am I trying to figure this out just visually?”

The Radio Demons speak in unison, twin smiles in place. “You may touch, if you think that will help.”

You let out a nervous breath and approach, reaching out to the one on the left and trailing your fingers down his arm, focusing hard. You repeat the action on the demon to the right, and you can tell immediately that this one is the clone- its different from when you created duplicates, but there’s still something that almost tingles under your fingers when you touch it that gives it away, where the real Alastor hadn’t given off a similar sensation. Just to be sure, you run your hand over the expanse of its shoulders, noticing the way that the demon beside you stiffens ever so slightly, eyes narrowing and smile going tense at the way you’re touching it.

An idea clicks into your head- wicked, devious, something that Alastor would surely disapprove of. But with such an opportunity presented, how could you deny the whim?

You stand in Alastor’s space, much closer than you would normally allow yourself, and crane up on your tiptoes to get in his face. “This is the decoy,” you say confidently, and the one that stands behind you speaks instead of the true version.

“What makes you so sure?” Even the voice is ever so slightly off, a tint to the tone of the voice that you only pick up on because you’re listening so closely. “Choose your words carefully, dear, lest you insult me.”

You shrug, tone nonchalant. “There’s just something about this one,” you say towards the real Alastor, stepping back and circling around him, letting your fingers trail along his coat sleeve. “It doesn’t feel quite as… real as you do.” You turn to face the duplicate, startling a bit when it’s closer than you anticipated. “I think I’ve had enough practice touching you in your dreams to know the real thing.”

“Is that so?” Alastor murmurs behind you, and it takes everything in you not to turn at the sound, lean back into him. “Well then, perhaps you’d care to make a little wager?”

“Maybe.” You feel your shoulders stiffen when he presses against you from behind, chest against the expanse of your back and hands settling on your waist. “What do you have in mind?”

Clone Alastor brings its hands up to cup your face. “If you stay convinced that I am the real Alastor,” it whispers, face coming to one side to whisper tenderly in your ear, “then you win. Your reward can be whatever you would like.”

“However! If I manage to break your conviction and change your mind,”  Alastor says from the other side. “I win. And if I win, my reward is that you allow me to experiment and test your abilities- both within and outside a dream- to my heart’s content.”

“Hmm.” You could always just lie, you supposed- what way would Alastor have of knowing that you were telling the truth? He couldn’t tell now- this would be an easy win for you. And maybe getting to see Alastor get a little jealous would be a nice bonus. “I accept. I’m pretty convinced though.” Just to really sell the point, you press your hands against the chest of the clone, run them over the fabric, tilt your head up to look into its eyes.

Alastor huffs behind you. “Very well. Perhaps you require a reenactment of the things we’ve done in dreams thus far- just to be sure? Make sure that you really recognize the touch.” His hands come up from your waist to cup your breasts, shirt vanishing at the contact and his thumbs brushing softly over your nipples. Your breath leaves you in a shaky exhale, the duplicate stepping ever closer and bringing its lips down to meet yours. 

There’s an underlying current of static to the kiss, something that doesn’t happen when you kiss Alastor. It’s not unpleasant, and you moan into it, playing it up just a tad for the benefit of the demon that stands behind you, letting a soft tremble take over your body that wasn’t entirely for show.

“What do you think, darling?” Alastor drags his tongue up the length of your neck, sharp teeth nipping at your jawline. “Still convinced?” He sucks on the soft skin, almost too hard before pulling back with a kiss to the tender spot. His nimble fingers pluck at the sensitive peaks of your breasts, chest pressing further into the front of the duplicate who licks into your mouth with intent, biting gently at your lips.

“Perhaps you need a bit more to really cement your resolve,” it says into the kiss, bending to nuzzle at your neck on the opposite side from Alastor. “It would be unfair to expect you to guess without all of the same experiences.”

Despite the sensations of pleasure taking over your body, you still find the energy to snark at him, “not guessing. I know.” And twist your fingers into the soft (but not as soft) locks of the clone’s hair, dragging it closer to your skin and grinding your hips against his and the growing erection that you find there.

Snaps sound in unison and their clothes disappear to wherever yours had gone, and a hot length of hardness presses against you from either side- Alastor against the plush curve of your ass and his clone against your pelvis and hip. “By the time I’ve finished,” they say, the static that hisses between them by your head making you dizzy with arousal, “you won’t know anything but my name.”

There are hands sliding down your body then, Alastor slipping a finger into your wetness while his clone thumbs at your clit, both of them gently rutting against your soft skin. You let your head drop back onto Alastor’s shoulder, and the menacing grin that you find on his face forces a shaky exhale from your mouth. “S-seems like a lot of work to change my mind,” you murmur, and he steals your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“Nothing with you is ever work, darling,” he whispers when he pulls back, another finger added to your slick cunt, his fingers crooking against the soft bunch of nerves and making you gasp and arch. The clone drops his head from your shoulder trail nips and kisses down your chest, his tongue circling a nipple and sucking lightly. “I think of it more like an investment in my personal entertainment- and pleasure.” 

You feel the way you clamp down on his fingers at that, and the clone scrapes his teeth against your sensitive breast- you whimper, reaching down to pull its face up so you can meet his mouth as well. When Alastor growls behind you, you ask, “what? Equal screen time is only fair.”

His smile turns treacherous. “You’ll want to keep that in mind, dear- I plan to hold you to it.”

With that his fingers leave you, arousal dripping to the forest floor as his hands come to your shoulders and pull, the same moment that the clone grips your legs and lifts, automatically wrapping them around your waist so you don’t fall. You’re left in the position of some kind of odd bridge between them, left staring up at the stars through the canopy of the trees in the bayou, the questioning of it dying on your lips when the thick cock of the clone pushes into you- slowly, relentlessly, not stopping until he’s buried to the hilt inside of you with his claws digging into the flesh of your hips.

If you hadn’t already been aware that the demon behind you was the real one, the way he hisses through his teeth would have given him away- Alastor can feel it, you know he can, the tight grip of your walls clenching down on the clone’s length somehow happening in duplicate on him, his hands tightening their hold on your upper body where you lean into his chest. And this, at least, doesn’t feel too different from the real thing; the second Radio Demon fills you perfectly, hips pressed flush to yours before pulling back and bucking forward again, a shock of pleasure that ripples through your body and forces a cry from your lips. The angle of the way they’re holding you pushes him right against the sweet spot inside.

When a couple of claw tipped fingers come down to press against your clit in soft circles you’re done for, the strength of your orgasm causing you to whimper and drop your head back against Alastor’s chest, body tensing and shaking as the clone rides out the waves of it. You wait for his release but it doesn’t come- no flood of heat inside of you or spilling onto your exposed skin. Your eyes open, watching the clone through blurry eyes and trying to raise your head up.

Your body is shifting then, shadows emerging from both demons to effectively flip you in the opposite direction, clinging to the duplicate’s chest now as Alastor presses his erection against you again, a couple tendrils of darkness wrapped securely around your waist and legs to support you from below. “What-”

“It’s not a fair game if we don’t both get a turn,” says the Alastor in front of you, grin dangerous as he whispers against your forehead, and you’re being entered again, faster this time since you’re already slick and open and ready for him. The force of it punches the air out of your lungs, exhaling wetly into the chest of the dream manifestation before you.

Claws dig into you, sinfully delicious little marks that you know will appear on your body when you awaken. “Or two turns,” comes Alastor’s staticky voice behind you- or, maybe in front of you? With your eyes clenched shut and your focus so completely on the pleasure being wrung from your body, you can’t quite tell where it’s coming from, which one of them is speaking. You had thought there was a difference in the way they sounded but-

“Maybe three.” 

“Four, even. Equal screen time and all that, like you said. Until we’ve had our fill and you’re absolutely certain which of us is which.” This is accompanied by a sharp thrust of Alastor’s hips, the slapping sound of skin overwhelming in the relative quiet of the bayou. It’s loud and lewd and arousing as anything as he fucks into you, your cunt clamping down with a fierce single-mindedness to keep him inside of you, even as the wetness it creates eases the slide out and back into your body.

“What do you think, dearest?” You can’t even tell which one is speaking any longer, your mouth lolled open against the bare chest of the clone who sweeps a comforting hand over your hair as the real deal fucks you into a cock drunk stupor. “You’re still sure which of us is the duplicate?”

“Y-yes,” you manage, but only because you know that when you started the dream version of Alastor was in front of you. You dig your fingers into his neck and moan, high and unashamed, and feel claws pierce the skin of your hips, a rumbling growl tearing itself from Alastor’s chest. “I- I would know the real thing anywhere- this,” you say, with a forceful, intentional clench around him, knowing you’ll regret this when you wake and all of the aches and bruises appear on your real life body, “is a p-poor imitation .”

He snarls, and you see the shadows of his antlers grow in your peripheral vision. “This poor imitation is going to make you cum, sweetheart, how does that sound?” 

“Like a challenge.”

His laugh is dark, one of the shadows coming up from below you to push and grind hard against your clit above where you’re speared on his length. “Th-that’s cheating!” You cry out; the feeling is intense, almost too soon after your last orgasm, pleasure that teeters on the edge of painful . The clone holds you tighter against his chest, soothing touches to your back and head as you’re made to take the cock inside of you and the tentacle thing that plays you with a mindless conviction. “Oh, God, fuck -”

“You forget that I play to win,” he says simply, his speed increasing, and another tendril of shadow slips into you alongside his cock, narrow and squirming in a different rhythm. “The method matters little if the end result is what I want.”

You choke a little when this orgasm hits you, vision darkening on the edges as your body seizes in his grasp, jerking uncontrollably as the force of it slams into you. Again, there’s no spilling of warmth inside your pussy, Alastor’s release once again postponed for whatever reason.

They pass you back and forth like this for a couple more rounds, each time growing more fervent and rough in their handling of your body while they are inside you, only to brush your hair back from your face and whisper sweet, filthy words into your ear while you cling to their arms and your sanity. Your body is drenched in sweat, inner thighs coated in the evidence of your arousal and orgasms- limbs trembling with the effort to keep your head up and your eyes open. You can’t tell them apart by touch anymore, a hand on your body at any given time as they switch your position and pass you between each other, your mind completely gone as you cum another time, body twitching with the pair of them holding you through it.

Immediately after, you lose the comforting presence on either end of your body when both of them step away from you, another couple of tentacles wrapping around you to keep you still as you pant and shake, body weak and trembling. “Alastor?” They’ve both slipped into the shadows, a whirl of noise in the space around you, and when you open your eyes they’re rematerializing- and fuck, you’re already so overly stimulated that you can’t tell them apart by sight alone either, vision still blurry from the power of your last release. The shadows make a sort of shelf beneath you, allowing you to drop your head back into the gentle embrace of something soft and billowy.

They speak in unison now as they approach. “Final determination now, darling,” they say, a hand on either hip. “Which of us is the real thing?” 

The wager is the last thing on your mind as you turn towards him, desperate for the more solid connection that the real Radio Demon provides in the dream scene. “Alastor,” you whine, reaching for him, digging your nails into what you can reach if his arm. “Please-“

His smile is devious when the duplicate disappears with a puff of smoke and he slots himself between your legs, pushing forward with a sharp snap that has you keening, head falling back as his claws push into the plush flesh of your hips. “It would appear,” he murmurs, “that you’ve lost the wager, dearest- you’ve changed your mind.”

“Don’t care,” you cry out, grip ironclad where you hold him, spare hand coming up to hold his shoulder like a vice. “Please, Alastor, I’m- I can’t go again, please.” Your body is aching and sore, muscles trembling from how many times they’ve tensed and released and shuddered through an orgasm at his hands. You don’t think that you can do it again; it might honestly shove you from the realm of the dream with how overwhelmed you are.

“Darling, darling,” he whispers, drawing his hips back and pushing forward in a steady rhythm, letting his hands run over your hands wherever he can reach and letting a tentacle reach up to rub at your sensitive clit. “You’ve got one more for me, I’m sure of it. Cum for me one more time, sweetness- let me feel you after taking us both and show you much better the real thing is when I flood your cunt with my release.”

Your stomach swoops with sharp arousal- you’ll never get enough of him talking like that, all traces of the prim and proper Radio Demon gone when he’s desperate to orgasm, buried inside your cunt with no radio filter and no thoughts in that lovely head but to drag you over the edge with him. An edge that, currently, is far too close and threatening to destroy you. “Al- Alastor, please, I can’t,” even as the tension pulls ever tighter, the tentacle at the apex of your thighs unrelenting in its focus, legs shaking uncontrollably where Alastor has wrapped them around his waist, his own steady rhythm stuttering. 

“With me, sweetheart,” he says, and the words are tinted like a plea, like he needs it. “Cum with me-” He bends down over you, tongue sliding against yours in your mouth before he turns, teeth sinking into your neck as he spends himself with a muffled groan against your skin, pulses of wet warmth inside of you that have you crying out into the silence of the bayou when your own orgasm tears through you.

You’re shattering- splintering into fractals of consciousness as you’re torn from the space of the dream. 

You don’t immediately wake though- pleasure jolts through you with the force of an arc flash but somehow you’re still asleep, flashes of something zipping by you as your- spirit? Soul? Whatever you currently were, you were catching glimpses along your peripheral vision as you moved; scenes of Alastor’s dreams, moments of his life, his face non-smiling and dark, covered in blood, a bullet hole between his eyes, and there was his mother again, as she had been in the first dream you had seen her.

You feel like taffy, being stretched and compressed hundreds of times over the span of what couldn’t be more than a few moments. You don’t think these are things that Alastor is currently seeing or dreaming about, which means that somehow you’ve gone further into his consciousness than his dreams- you might even be in his subconscious, you think, as you see snippets of a memory with Husker, eyes angry and hurt; Niffty, dirty and bloodstained as Alastor offers her a hand; yourself, the way that he had seen you in the dream with his mother, eyes wide and frightened when you had stepped on the stick that gave your position away.

And then there’s more of you, moments that he had apparently been observing you when you weren’t aware. It’s from his own point of view, eyes dropping down to your hand where it rests on Angel’s forearm at the bar, tracing the line of your arm where it’s draped affectionately over Charlie’s shoulder. He’s watched you everywhere, scenes of yourself in front of the fireplace in his room, curled up on a lobby couch, sitting in the main office with plans for guest events laid out before you, an irritated crease in your brow. You see yourself sleeping in the bed in his room where he had apparently stood over you, a clawed finger reaching out to brush your hair back from your face; there’s a rumbling of speech that you can’t make out as he says something and you stir in your sleep, face going slack with a small smile taking over your features. 

The scene fades, and the sharp pleasure of your explosive orgasm returns with force, your eyes opening in reality with a choked off cry as your body trembles with the aftershocks of it, hand digging into Alastor’s arm where he lays next to you. The overwhelming feeling fades finally, and your muscles go slack against the mattress, finally turning to look at him.

His eyebrows are creased in concentration, smile still present but a bit strained. “Where were you?” He asks softly, and when you cock your head a bit he clarifies- “I was awake. But you were… elsewhere, it would seem.”

You don’t think he’ll appreciate you being in his mind like you were, but you don’t have many other options as far as figuring out what the fuck that was. “I think I was… in your head? Like your thoughts and memories. Sorry,” you add as an afterthought. “I didn’t mean to- I’m still learning, I don’t really understand what happened-”

“You were in my mind despite my being awake?” Alastor doesn’t look upset at the revelation- rather, he looks intrigued. “It seems that your power is changing- how entertaining!” He jumps up from the bed, the clothes he had fallen asleep in rumpled and wrinkled. He doesn’t seem to care as he starts pacing around the bed. “This is all speculation of course, but it would seem to me that the excessive stimulation in my dream has caused another bond to form with your powers- no longer just between your physical and dream forms, but between your powers and the real world. Fascinating!” His grin is wide, manic when he looks back at you. “And what perfect timing, now that I’ve won a wager that allows me all sorts of rights to experimentation with your powers and abilities. We’re going to have such fun with this, darling-” He continues to ramble and you watch him pace as he does, one turn allowing something to catch your eye.

A bruise on Alastor’s collarbone- where you had held him in the dream, your thumb digging into the skin that covered the bone, apparently hard enough to leave a mark. None of the marks you had left on him in the past had ever manifested like this in the real world; his theory about the links between your dream self and reality seeming more plausible, if you could inflict something physical on him from a dream.

Might as well tell him now. “Alastor,” you interrupt him, and rise from the bed to stand before him, brushing your thumb over the discolored flesh. “Look-”

His eyes go dark, dials flickering when he grins down at you. “Another mystery to experiment with,” he says. “We’ll have to determine if the ability to leave physical alterations is limited to just myself- since you spend the most time in my dreams, I would presume your powers have developed a sort of bond to my mind- or if you could do this to others.”

Your hands freeze on his chest. “What do you mean, ‘others?’ I don’t- I’m not doing anything like this with anyone else.” 

“No need to worry, dearest, I didn’t mean the more intimate aspects! I merely meant markings in general- say, if you were to cut someone with your claws, or take a bite from them. Would that manifest in the real world?” His antlers expand, green stitches appearing at the edges of his smile. “Imagine the ease of being able to kill someone in a dream without ever having to be in the room! Oh, the possibilities are thrilling-”

“I’m not doing that.” You let your touch fall from his skin, taking a step back at the clear delight on his face in thinking about you killing someone. “That’s… that’s not what I’m here for, Alastor, I don’t want to use my power like that.” 

“You would rather waste your potential? Regardless, we had a wager, my dear, one that you lost- it was made in a dream but it’s still binding. For the sake of experimenting you’ll do whatever I ask of you; that was the condition, was it not?” Something green glows in his hands- not a chain like you had seen on others with a legitimate soul deal, but something like a rope, a leash. He tugs on it gently, enough to make you lose your balance and stumble forward where it pulls at your wrist.

This was the Alastor you had seen in the first dreams of his- ruthless, bloodthirsty, angry. Gone was the softer version of him that you had come accustomed to, the one you had glimpsed in the dream with his mother, in the memories you had seen. You needed to get away-

No sooner had the thought come than there was a blast of light from your palms, startling Alastor into releasing the cord that tied you to him. Your steps falter backwards and put space between the two of you, no time to think about what had just happened; the hurt look in Alastor’s eyes is the last thing that you see before you turn and bolt from the room.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/54459367/chapters/142955671

[comfy-vember]

Hullo. Welcome to Comfy-vember.

2024 PROMPT LIST IS HERE.

Tumblr-wide tag search!

This is a fun writing challenge, to encourage creativity. There are no prizes but your own satisfaction, and the love of your readers. :)

No, I am not trying to usurp Comfortember (which I thought for sure was in September??) the already established writing event to follow up Whumptober. This is just an alternative, with a greater variety of prompts, and prompt schedules.

So pertinent factoids:

Who: You can call me Rain, and this is open to anyone.

What: a writing event (but you can make art too if you want!) centered around gen (platonic) relationships and hurt/comfort (leaning into the comfort) scenes. Fanfic and original work welcome.

When: November

Where: anywhere you post writing! But this blog will only reblog writing or links from here on tumblr. An Ao3 collection could be possible, though I've never made one before.

Prompts: There are three levels of prompts to choose from, to help you set realistic goals for yourself, and hopefully let you participate without the guilt of not making every day!😘 There are Daily, Weekly, and a single Month prompt groups.

The Prompt of the Month consists of three words or phrases, a line of dialogue, and a song to draw inspiration from.

The 4 Weekly Prompts consist of three words or phrases, and a line of dialogue each.

The 30 Daily Prompts consist of three words or phrases each.

You can use ANY of the prompts for the day/week, from one to all of them! You will notice some variety in the amounts of hurt vs comfort vs fluff in each prompt group. So you can pick whatever you're feeling, or use all of them in the progression of your work! Or if you want to continue some of those Whumptober fics with recovery and hugs and cuddles...👀

Works: can be any length, from five sentences, to ficlets, to a whole chapter fic/novel mashing all the prompts together! Both fanfic and original writing are welcome. They do not have to be written or posted in order, just make sure to tag which day/weeks prompts you're using.

Content: This is supposed to be centered around gen or platonic relationships (friends, siblings, parent-child, mentor-student, neighbours, soldiers, other familial bonds, a garbage truck driver and the kid who waves at him every day, etc. even people and their pets). Romantic relationships can be in the background, but I'm really looking for friends, family, and countrymen to take centre-stage here. I would ask the writing be kept PG-13 or lower on the maturity scale. :) Or at least this blog will not reblog or recognize anything with explicit content.

Tags: #comfy-vember 2024 #comfy-vember #comfy vember #comfy vember 2024

That's all probably clear as mud, lol, but if you have ANY questions, PLEASE drop me an ask!

[lunarduty]

𝘼𝙒𝘼𝙔 𝙊𝙉 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝘽𝙍𝙀𝙀𝙕𝙀

☾ ghost uses you as an excuse to be distracted. SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY X F!READER TAGS | nsfw. smut. somnophilia. female reader. WC | 636 x

ghost is all business all the time. his whole life revolves around the military. the next mission. the target. how to reach his objective. so it’s takes a lot to shift his focus - yet, you seem to do it effortlessly. at first, it frustrated ghost. you’d enter the room and suddenly the debrief was white noise. your voice is on the com and his eyes flicker about, like he was searching for you. but nowadays, the distracted is a WELCOME one. even if he goes out looking for it.

he doesn’t like being caught unawares not putting all his attention into his work. soap would give him shit or gaz would finally have a bit of proof that ghost is every bit a man as the rest of them. so it’s only really when you two are by yourselves that ghost can let down his walls a little. say something dumb to make you laugh and let himself stare at your smile and wonder if he has enough time to take you up against the wall.

when the timing is pertinent, ghost tries to force himself to keep his mind on the task at hand. during the quiet moments of an op, the team has noticed ghost disassemble and clean his weapons much more than he used to. several times in a row, in fact. you wander over him to, asking if he was bored and wanted to play cards with the rest of them. ghost replies that he wasn’t bored. just trying to stay focused. he doesn’t meet your eyes as he speaks. the TEMPTATION is unbearable when you puff out a little laugh and say his name so sweet. the next time he cleans his pistol, he’s noticeably sloppier.

being on leave is a blessing he’ll never take for granted again. simon usually stayed on base but, like every other habit of his, you managed to squeeze in and change his routine. he started crashing at your place, and there, simon isn’t nearly as hung up on trying to pretend you don’t occupy his every waking thought. he’ll happily stay awake all night, without the threat on an early morning debrief, and just watch you sleep. letting your peaceful wake and gentle breathing keep him from shutting his eyes.

and his delightful bout of insomnia can only really lead to one thing - simon gets bored, you look too fucking cute, and now he’s too distracted by the soft heat of your body to even think about sleeping. his kisses don’t wake you. his hands, heavy and scarred as they are, don’t wake you. your underwear sliding over your legs and broad shoulders splitting them apart begins to rouse you, but it isn’t until simon’s mouth is doing something fucking shattering do you finally wake up. your hushed moans make him shiver. make him wish he turned a light on so he can see your face. you bite out of his name when his tongue slows - he just got too CAUGHT UP in trying to see that gorgeous face. he can’t be blamed for that.

one thing simon truly loves about you is your ability to always make him feel like he’s enough. not that he isn’t confident in himself, but with you, he can feel like he comes up short as a lover. so when he’s finally fucking the sleep from your mind, and simon gets too swept away that he cums good and hard and much too soon, you kiss him. he’s gasping for air against your lips, cock buried achingly DEEP inside of you, an apology on his lips but you kiss it away. 

somehow, in some way, you must know what you do to him. how you can take his mind and mold it like clay in any shape you want.

[evans23]

You were his

Pairing : David Friedman x Reader OC

Summary : Sometimes, David wished you were more compliant but he wouldn't want you any other way.

Tag(s)/Warning(s) : Smut, insecurities, anguish.

A/N: Hello dear 😁 Hope you enjoy the more alluring Detective of all the time.

Also read on AO3

David and you met by chance two years ago. By chance... it is an understatement. Actually, you had crashed into his car because of your inattention. 

To be honest, you weren't a really good driver and you were thanking the Driving's God every day to let you get the precious license you yielded so much to obtain when you were eighteen. 

Now, sixteen years later, you still weren't a good driver but you felt it as a blessing because, without your lack of skills at driving, you would have never met David.

You could remember when he had jumped from his car, ready to murder someone, in fact, you, to have bumped into his old red car. Of course, you didn't know at the time he was a detective, not that it would have me any difference about the deplorable state you let his car in, but at least, you would not have freaked out as well, thinking your end was near for the mere reason than in your mind, a detective couldn't do any harm to another human being. David had disillusioned you about that at some point in your relationship. 

It wasn't love at first sight. Not for you and not for him either. None of you had a report to fill in about the accident, a thing you still teased him about for being such a neglectful Detective. 

Still today, he was trying to fathom how in hell he had such a leap of faith about another person. His job had made him wary of everyone and everything. Even his wife had betrayed him at some point. The only human he trusted was his only daughter. 

But this day, besides the fact that he was late for a peculiarly difficult case which tired him more than usual and if you asked him, he would tell you his tiredness was the only reason why he had let you go with his phone number and a quarter of his faith in you to call him back to fill in the report. However, he found it wise to specify he was from the Police. 

Of course, you were a trustworthy person and as a matter of course, you had called him as soon as you had arrived home. He invited you, or should you say he ordered you, to come to the precinct during the afternoon and you were compelled, a bit afraid of the consequences if you irked him too much. 

He was his usual self when you arrived : grumpy and gruff. He scurried towards you as soon as he glimpsed at you, leading you to his office for your biggest relief as it wasn't the interrogation room. 

If you were asked, you would probably say that it was the moment you began to feel butterflies dancing in your belly. He was so imposing, there in his cramped office, towering towards you while he was leading a mere formality like an interrogation. What’s your name ? What’s your car’s brand ? How old are you ? 

You had frowned at this one, not sure if the question was pertinent but you understood later that he wanted to be sure you were only lucky enough to look under 25 or if you were really under 25. By chance, not only were you 33 but it seemed like you had discovered the secret of the Fountain of Youth. 

His next question caught you off guard and if David was honest, he would say he was quite stunned by his ownboldness. But it had paid off since you had said yes when he asked you randomly as if the question was a part of his interrogation for a simple collision with not too much damage, can I invite you to go out later today, after my service ?

You were tempted to tell him : Can you or may you ? But you had already understood that David hadn’t the same sense of humour as the others and that your teasing could frustrate him and you didn’t want to blow out your chance with the Detective, not when the butterfly wings caused a lump of happiness in your throat just by hearing the unexpected question. Therefore, you simply answered yes.

You met him at 5, oblivious of the fact that for the first time in his life, he had delegated his work to a colleague for not having to cancel his rendezvous with you.

It was the first of far much more meetings. You learnt quickly how to manage David, his constant busyness and his grumpy mood, even though most of the time he was more than pleasant with you without even trying to be. You helped him to open up to you and you did the same with him. 

As an introvert, you knew how hard it could be to share your deepest thoughts and your wounds soul with someone else, but together you learned to do so. Even if he would never admit it, David fell hard for you after your first meeting and after the third he was head over heels for you.

For you, it had been faster since your heart was his after you had left the precinct with the feeling that he could definitely be the one you were looking for to complete you. 

And here you were, two years later, living with the over-occupied Detective, dealing with his sometimes ill-tempered, alleviating the pressure after a peculiarly complicated or dreadful case, loving him with all your soul. And even if he wasn’t the demonstrative type, you knew David felt the same for you. 

However, today, the Driver’s God wasn’t with you as your car ran down while you went to work. A lovely colleague of yours came to your rescue, dropping you off at your work while a car repairer had been called to take care of your vehicle. 

You supposed Mr Darcy, your car’s name, was tired of being so mistreated by your bad driving habits. You didn’t call David to let him know about the breakdown, aware of his busyness, anyway, he was probably chasing leads and you didn’t want to bother him unnecessarily. You could have texted him but you knew how he hated being distracted while he was poring over evidences and you weren’t oblivious that he liked to joke about your clinginess with his partner, Sadie, a former FBI agent who was now working effectively with him. 

You weren’t jealous as you got on pretty well with the woman since the first time he introduced you to her. Moreover, she had a boyfriend, who would probably become her husband sooner than later. But you were too self-conscious to bear being the butt of their joke as playful as it was. And after all, he would know soon enough your precious Mr Darcy had let you down.

So you worked without having a second thought about your bad start this morning, too enamoured with your job for staying worked up too long. You worked in a bookstore, a job which fitted you perfectly as you were such a bookworm. But as the day went on, you realised you should have secured a lift with one of your colleagues. Indeed, you were now doing the closure alone and it was pitch-black. While you were counting the proceeds of the day, you tried to figure out the best and safest way to come back to David’s house. Your house. 

You glimpsed at your watch, asking yourself if you should eventually call David but you decided not to. If he wasn’t working anymore, which was improbable knowing him, then he was probably winding down in front of the TV, maybe he had even nodded off.

“Come on [Y/N], you’re a grown-up woman, you don’t need your man to hold your hand. For God's sake, you have already come back home on your own in the past without any trouble.”

But it was before knowing David and the gruesome things his job made him see day after day. He warned you more than often about being careful, and beware about everything and everyone, particularly when the night has set for good. He often told you how careless you could be sometimes, reminding you that the world wasn’t a safe place and that you had to be more attentive to your surroundings. Now, with all his recommendations in your head, you felt a tad unease walking alone in the dark, yet it was only a twenty-minute walk, nothing to really wind you up. 

Therefore, you began to walk, slowly as you were wearing your favourite pairs of heels, the ones that make you taller than you were in reality and give your appearance more allure. The one David despised because every time you wore it, he was making a sort of wager between him and himself if yes or no you were going to strain your ankle. For his relief and yours, it had never happened. 

The cool air made you shudder a bit and you were beginning to regret not having taken a jacket with you this morning. However, how could you have known your car would let you down ?!

But your cold skin didn’t bother you too much as a cold shiver ran down your spine. Someone was following you. You accelerate your pace and the sound of soles behind you accelerates too. You put your hand in your pocket, encircling your phone without daring to take it out, lest to alert your pursuer about your attention. And even if you could reach David, what could he do ?

You accelerate a bit your walking, head down, hand gripping firmly your phone, asking yourself how you would run if needed with these stupid shoes, which made your feet ache in addition. 

And then, your heart stopped. A hand was on your shoulder and you froze, unable to even scream. Your whole body ran cold and your brain couldn’t work anymore. You were going to die here, in a dark alley, David and your parents would have to grieve you and all of that because of your genuine stupidity.

Incapable to move, you shut your eyes, waiting for the unavoidable when another hand grabbed your wrist and forced you to turn around.

“You are the most inconsiderate woman I have ever met ! Are you totally crazy or just stupid for walking all by yourself in this part of the town ? During the night on top of that !” 

You let out a sigh of relief, recognising David’s voice but when you met his eyes, you knew he wasn’t over with you.

Holding firmly your wrist, he led you towards his car, which was parked near the alley where you had the fear of your life. Thanks to the presence of Sadie, you escaped his wrath for some time. Not that you were afraid of him or of his anger but you didn’t like it when he was mad at you because it woke up all your insecurities, even though David told you a thousand times that even if sometimes you were quarrelling for more than often stupid things, never would he leave you for such a trivial thing than a little disagreement. 

But you had the feeling it wasn’t a little disagreement this time, you could see smoke coming out of his ears while his knuckles had turned white by squeezing the wheel for the purpose of containing himself in front of his colleague and friend, however, you weren’t fooled by his restraint, you knew you were in for a night with him wrangling over you about your little stroll in the night.

He dropped off Sadie and you shift off the backseat to sit in the front with him. He didn’t talk during the 15 longer minutes of all your life. He was still as the grave, glimpsing at you sometimes with a moody sigh. You didn’t try to reach him either. You didn’t want to have an argument with him whereas your head and your feet were aching, your stomach knotted and your insecurities overwhelming at the mere idea David was mad at you for something rather insignificant.

When you arrived, he opened the door and let you in first as usual. You took off your shoes, and your hair clippers in a vain attempt to alleviate the aching which was pounding at the back of your head and you strode to the kitchen where David was already sitting down at the counter. He offered you a glass of water that you accepted suspiciously but you didn’t have to wait too long before he lashed out his anger over you.

“Do you really want to kill me woman ?!”

It was a rhetorical question, so you chose to keep your mouth closed, but inwardly your answer was as ironic as is question. 

“Didn’t tell you how dangerous the town is at night ? Particularly THIS part of the town ?!”

He wasn’t shooting at you but David didn’t need to raise your tone to make an impression. His cold anger, clear and exaggerated articulation and his hazel eyes more cutting than a blade were enough to keep quiet the more impudent delinquent. But you weren’t one of his suspects, you were his girlfriend so you were not nearly so impressed about his intimating demeanour as you were years ago after having driven into his car. 

“David, you were the one frightening me, not one of your criminal…” you began but he cut you off.

“Fortunately it was only me ! You stupid girl !”

It was your turn to cut him off. You couldn’t stand it when he was insulting your intelligence, even though you knew he didn’t see you as a stupid person. 

“Stop it David ! Stop patronising me ! I am not a child !”

You could see the anger seething more and more in his eyes.

“Then don’t act like a petulant little girl who knows everything better than me ! How many times did I tell you this part of the town is dangerous ? Why in hell didn’t you call me ?!”

He was still scolding you in a calm, slow-paced tone while now you were shooting.

“I didn’t want to bother you !”

“You don’t bother me, you crazy woman ! What’s bothers me is you putting yourself in danger ! I already have a teenager who gives me too much white hair, I don’t need you to do so. I need you to come through for me. My work makes my life complicated enough as is !”

“I am supportive ! You can always rely on me and you know that ! I am a big girl, I can walk by myself without the need to have a man holding my hand !”

“Oh please, don’t set off with your stupid feminist revendication or I swear…”

For the first time since the beginning of your argument, his voice raised a tad.

“Stop treating me like a child ! I am not your teenage daughter, I am your wif… girlfriend,” you shouted back, caught up before saying the word wife, not wanting him to know how much you were yielding to be Mrs Friedman, even though David wasn’t dupe and already knew that. 

In fact, the ring had been hidden in his underwear drawer for two months.

“Yes, you’re my girlfriend, my wife like I like to introduce you when I talk about you and more than all the only one besides my daughter I love more than my life itself. And yes, you behave like a child ! All I want is taking you on my knees and giving you a good spanking to make this lesson stick in this stubborn head of yours.”

“Is it a promise ?” you asked, catching him off guard.

You see the twinkle in his eyes despite the fact he hadn’t finished with you. Nevertheless, you had succeeded in whetting his sexual appetite. 

“You, little minx !”

He drew nearer to you, almost threatening. You put a hand on his chest but he grabbed it, pulling you over him, capturing your waist with his other arm.

“It is what you want little minx ? You want to be in for a treat ?”

You forced him to lean towards you to kiss him widely. He responded fervently before pulling himself away. You moaned, saddened by the disappearance of his warm lips against yours.

“No !”

“What ?” you asked with wide eyes.

“Naughty girls don’t get rewards.”

“David ! Don’t leave me hanging like that !” you said, the wetness between your legs itching you.

“Apologise and maybe I’ll indulge you.” he blackmailed you.

“Never !”

You had your pride and you didn’t do anything wrong. You wouldn’t apologise just because he let his anger get the best of him. However, you knew it was the only way for him to express such a strong emotion as the fear he had felt when he had seen you all alone in the dark night.

“Then promise.”

“What ?” you asked suspiciously.

“Promise me, this is the last time you do that.”

His tone had softened and you frowned seeing the glint of worry in his eyes.

“David, what’s the matter ?”

“Promise,” he insisted.

You didn’t need to be a genius to understand something was on his mind.

“David, what happened ?”

“For God's Sake woman ! Once in your life can you accept to obey me even if it goes against your contradictory brain which can bear receiving any orders ?”

Now you could clearly hear his worry and your own anger melted out as fast as it had appeared in the first place.

“I promise.”

He dived his eyes into yours, probing your sincerity.

“David, I swear on our sharing love. I will never do that again. You have my words.”

His face softened in a flourish. He knew you well enough to know when you gave your words, one’s could trust you with their life.

“What happened ?” you asked again, pecking at his lips.

He snaked his arms around you, holding you as tight as he could, giving you a lingering kiss on the crown of your head.

“There was a murder this morning in this same alley where I saw you,” he merely answered. 

You felt your heart melt for the man in front of you, his concerned and sad expression leaving you hurt for him and the hardness of his job. He had been seeing so many horrendous things from corruption to murder, without even talking about blackmail, threatening and bribing colleagues. You sank into him, trying to comfort him by letting him feel how much you loved him.

“David, you shouldn’t let those things work you up so much. I know you have another vision of the world because of your job but you can’t let it lead up your life. Our life.”

“[Y/N], you don’t understand. I can’t put things in perspective to see the world in your way because I know this world doesn’t exist. It is easier for people like you to not think about it and breeze through their life as if it only happened to others, but I know all to well it is not the case. I was a loner before you. You know how much my divorce left me broken apart. I needed alcohol to forget the throes of my suffering and then you arrived and gave me the motivation to be a better man. I didn’t know I was still able to love before you but here we are and you put my life, my mind, upside down. If anything happened to you or my daughter… I… I… I couldn’t get over it. Never.”

You felt your eyes filling with tears by hearing his monologue. Oh God, how much you loved this man. Your heart swelled with a mixture of love and harm for his distress. 

"How did you know I was walking home ?" you whispered, your fingers caressing his cheek.

"I met Meghan at the gas station, your colleague, and she told me she had to give you a lift to go to work. She was annoyed with herself because she hadn't asked you if you needed her to drive you back home."

Out of kindness and worry, David had driven to the bookshop to see it was closed. Therefore, he drove in what was in all likelihood the way you would be likely to take to come back home. When he had seen you walking in the same alley he had to investigate this morning after the discovery by a jogger of a corpse, his blood had run cold. 

You listened attentively to him, trying to coax him with your lingering fingers on his cheek. Seeing that he was still upset about the whole thing, you step back and you tentatively took off your shirt. 

"What are you doing ?" he asked, amazed by your behaviour.

You were the shy type when it came to initiating any sexual activities. David had quickly learnt that if he wanted to make love with you, he would have to be straightforward with you and he enjoyed it most of the time. Being the one in control of your sex life made him revel in it. 

You didn't answer, instead, you took off his tie and you began to unbutton his shirt.

"What gets into you little rascal ?" he asked playfully.

"You. Only you. Always you." you answered, taking off your bra.

You tried your best to not cover your breasts. Even after two years, you felt quite coy under his piercing eyes. You always felt as if he could read your mind and it was likely true because he always knew when you were up for something before you had the time to even think about it. 

"I want to make love with you," you whispered.

His gaze, now burning with an ardent desire made your legs wobbling. 

"Weren't you in for a punishment ?" he asked playfully while he unbuckled his belt. 

"Everything you want," you genuinely answered.

"Everything ?" he repeated while taking off his shirt completely. 

You felt a shiver running through your whole body at the sight of his chest. You trace from the tip of your fingers the slight hair crossing his chest until his belly button, totally mesmerized by his handsomeness. 

"Yes," you whispered.

Without any warning, his lips captured yours and he gave you the most passionate kiss you had ever received. Then, in one swift motion, he lifted you off the floor and your legs encircled his waist. He led you both through the house to your bedroom where he gently threw you on the bed. 

You made a gesture to remove the rest of your clothes but he vividly stopped you. 

"No, I want to do that myself."

And so he began to take off your pants, then, slowly, brazenly, he put down your underwear, kissing down both of your legs during the process. 

When you were finally totally naked in front of him, he admired you for a while, making you blush. Then, eventually, he took off his own pants and underwear while relishing the sight of you totally ready for him, vulnerable and shy under his hazel eyes. 

He put his left hand on your ankle, slowly moving up to your tight. You closed your eyes, bottling up a moan while you felt his lips kissing your other tight. He drew nearer to your pussy, but whereas you thought he was going to kiss you there, he turned you around deftly, releasing a sounding slap on your ass. 

"David !" you almost screamed, surprised by what happened. 

He gave you another slap, harder than the first one and you tried to get up but he prevented you from doing that by poring over you.

"You asked to be punished, no ?" he rumbled to your ear.

You shuddered, aroused by his playfulness. You knew for sure he would never hurt you on purpose and all of this was just a game. An enjoyable game that made your wetness more and more significant. You needed him inside you. 

"David..."

"Hush ! Naughty girls don't get the right to talk," he said, kissing your now burning ass. 

You wiggled a bit beneath him but he stopped you with another slap before turning you over again. You were facing him now and he kissed you savagely, his thumb finding your clit. He rubbed your bundle of nerves at such a slow pace that it was a real torture for you.

"David, please..."

"Hush ! You said I could have everything I want from you. You may do what pleases you in your day-to-day life, but here, in your bedroom, I am the one in control, not you woman !"

You nodded once, acknowledging him the right he was requesting from you. You could let him take the reins in your bed, it didn't hurt you. 

Actually, even if you were to bashful to admit it, you liked his authority around you when you were in the intimacy of your bedroom, relishing in the love of each other, even though making love with David was sometimes quite intense. He could be a tender and passionate lover as he could be rough and intense after a hard day of work. You didn't reallymind because no matter his mood, he was always listening to you, your needs and your own desires. If you weren't in for a quick, rough sex party, then he indulged you without complaint. In fact, it didn't really matter to him as long as you were his. 

"Promise again," he said, making your desire grow and grow with his teasing thumb. 

"I pro... promise," you stuttered.

"You promise what ?" he asked, inserting his finger into you.

You moaned, unable to answer.

"You promise what ?" he growled before sucking one of your nipples.

"I... I won't do that again."

"Do what ?" he insisted, nibbling playfully your nipple.

"Please, David..."

"No reward until I get my answer," he said, kissing your forehead, both of your cheeks, then your lips while a second finger entered you, delightfully scissoring you. 

"I promise... I... David ! Mmmmh ! I promise to never walk alone when it's dark."

"And you will warn me when something happens or if you need my help from now on ?"

He pushed his fingers further, making you arching. 

"Yes, yes ! Yes !"

"Is it a promise ?"

"You have my words. I swear David, I will never frighten you like that again. Never."

"See how you can be a good girl when you want ?" he said, removing his fingers.

"David," you moaned, frustrated by the disappearance of his warm fingers inside you playing deliciously with your cunt. 

He rubbed your wetness along his cock to lubricate it, then, he delicately entered you. He was always careful with you, knowing how sensitive you were and how easily you could bleed if he was too brutal with you during the foreplay. 

He began to thrust at a slow pace inside you while one of your hands found her way to his back and the other to his neck. You made sure to not scratch him as he didn't like it. Instead, you buried your head into the hollow of his neck, kissing him and whispering how much you loved him.

"I love you too [Y/N]. So much that sometimes it is hurtful."

You looked up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes before he fawned on you, kissing your face, your neck, your breasts.

"David, faster please," you managed to say, revelling the sensation of his warmness inside and over you.

As if it was the signal he was waiting for, he began to thrust inside you faster while your legs found their place around his back. 

"David, I'm coming," you said, trying to hold back your orgasm.

"Come, honey, come for me," he said in his baritone voice.

Two more powerful thrusts and you were totally submerged by your orgasm. Your eyes fluttered while white dots came up to cloud your vision under the intensity of your orgasm. You felt David coming after you, adding more pleasure than you already had. He groaned while his cock throbbed inside you. 

He kissed you while you came down, breathless and lost in the abyss of your love for him, regaining your senses little by little. He gave you a soft kiss on your lips, asking you if you were alright. David wasn't demonstrative in his words but his actions were far more sounding.

"I say the truth," you uttered while he leant up against the headboard. 

You cuddled up at his side, your head on his chest, hearing his heartbeat which was starting to regain his calmness after the whirlwind of your passion. 

"About what ?" he asked, looking at you lovingly.

"I will not do that again. I don't like that when you are mad at me."

His features softened and he pulled you closer. You snuggled against his chest, a sigh of contentment escaping your lips. 

"[Y/N], how many times would I have to tell you that even if we argue, it doesn't mean it is over between us ? Didn't I prove to you time after time you could trust me ?" he chided you gently.

He knew it wasn't your fault and he knew you trusted him but you had gone through some hard times in the past and sometimes, because of your easy character and your almost contaminating smile, he tended to forget how insecure you were deep inside you. 

"I know," you answered.

"It is not our first argument and there will be another one. I think it is quite healthy in fact that we can have disagreements from time to time. Life would be boring if you were nothing else than a little obedient wife."

"So, at the end of the day you like my stubbornness ?" you asked brazenly. 

"I like the whole of you. The qualities and the shortcomings. How you smile each time you catch me looking at you, how you blush when I am teasing you but more than anything else, I like that you're always there for me when I need it and I know it is more than often that I asked you to come through for me."

"I am happy to be your person David. I understand how your job is stressful and I am honoured to be the one helping you to release the pressure of the day."

You were so proud of him, how he had fought his old demons to be in a happy and healthy relationship with you and you weren't easily deceived, despite his rough edge and sarcasm, deep down, you were well aware he was still hurt by the betrayal of his ex-wife and sometimes, he too was afraid to lose you for someone else, someone who could be better than him, even though for you David was the perfect one, the one you had looked for so long. For too long, if you were asked. 

"Am I forgiven ?" you whispered, the sleep catching you up.

"[Y/N], you have nothing to be forgiven for. I was just so afraid when I saw you there. Sometimes, only sometimes, I need you to listen to me."

"I promised you I will and I will," you repeated firmly.

David said something but you were already drifting into sleep and you didn't hear it. When your answer didn't come, he looked down at you to see your sleepy form lovingly snuggled against him, searching for solace in his arms. He kissed the top of your head with a fond smile.

"I love you [Y/N]."

Yes, he loved you far more than words could express it. His thought drifted to the ring in his drawer and he internally smiled. 

"And sound, calling you my wife will be more official than you can think," he whispered, conscious you couldn't hear him now that you were sleeping soundly against him.

He looked at your chest raising and falling slowly, a small happy smile on your lips and he felt a surge of happiness and affection. You were definitely the best thing that could have happened to him and he would do everything he could to keep you safe. 

Slowly, his eyes closed and he fell asleep still holding you firmly against him. You were his anchor. You were his lighthouse in the stormy ocean that was his hectic life, you were his light in the dark. 

You were his. 

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 14)

au masterlist

notes: this is short and i apologize, but i’ve had an extremely busy day and didn’t have much time to write but i wanted to get this out before tonight’s game!

y/ndevils00

liked by trevorzegras, tmeier96, and 308,619 others

y/ndevils00 WE’VE TAMED THE WILD!

SEE YOU AGAIN NEXT SEASON, MINI-SODA!

tonight, my (and hopeful your) favorite boys in white and red, won the second game in our back to back games with the Wild! making us 2/2 in our games against them this season!

we had a great FIVE goals tonight compared to mini’s measly three! i’m incredibly proud of all 4 of our goals scorers, AND the magical puck that flew into the net on its own about 15 minutes into the first! that was insane, am i right?!

and even more exciting, we only had TWO penalties tonight! 🥹 they’re finally listening to me!

my lil rabid chihuahua almost got into a fight tonight, which would’ve solidified his rabid status! but alas, he did not, and Timo the Train stepped in to defend him— which both spoiled my fun and saved me from heart failure; i’m not sure whether to be mad or grateful, so i’ve decided to be both! never limit your emotions, kids! be dramatic! i promise, it’s fun!

babygirl DID, however, draw a penalty on one of his former bffl’s, moldy boldy, for interference! which took us to the power play and secured dougie’s fantastic goal tonight— which was assisted by none other than the man who snores in my ear every night! giving him his 20TH POINT OF THE SEASON!! I’M SO PROUD OF YOU, MY LOVE! I’M GONNA KISS YOUR FACE!

tagged holtz_10, tmeier96, lhughes_06, jackhughes, jesperbratt, dougieham, and vitacz15

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lhughes_06 before you say it: i’m not gossiping. i fell.

y/ndevils00 that sounds like something someone that was gossiping would say

lhughes_06 then what would someone who WASN’T gossiping say?

y/ndevils00 idk, i’ve never NOT gossiped. and usually you gossip with me

jackhughes i have so many comments on this, idek where to start

y/ndevils00 you could start by telling me you love me? 🥰

jackhughes mhm i love you- why rabid? why chihuahua? why the snoring? please never call him “moldy boldy” again

y/ndevils00 i love you too! because you’re a bit feral sometimes! you’re tiny and yappy! i felt like it was pertinent information! i will.

jackhughes I’M TALLER THAN YOU! (wtf does “pertinent” mean?)

y/ndevils00 WHAT DOES THAT MATTER?! (relevant, baby! it means relevant!)

dawson1417 i didn’t do it :(

y/ndevils00 NEXT GAME!

dawson1417 next game!

john.marino97 are you guys just gonna do this after every game until dawson gets a point?

y/ndevils00 @/john.marino97 we’re bound to be right eventually! next game!

john.marino97 i guess i can’t argue with that logic… next game!

tmeier96 i did that for your own good. i could not risk him getting hurt because then you’d be sad

y/ndevils00 but a fight would’ve been entertaining!! if you’re gonna prevent a fight then you have to at least have one of your own! those be the rules!

tmeier96 i’ll keep that in mind??

nicohischier thanks for facetiming me and giving me a play-by-play run down of every single thing that happened

nicohischier i think i could’ve gone without the jack comments though

y/ndevils00 wdym? you DIDN’T want me to tell you how hot he looked? that’s YOUR boyfriend too, ya know!

nicohischier nope. i can guarantee it’s not!

y/ndevils00 i have photographic evidence

nicohischier pictures of us hugging to celebrate a win or goal is not “evidence”

y/ndevils00 i have about 475,000 people who think otherwise

nicohischier your followers don’t count

y/ndevils00 i have about 2* people who think otherwise

nicohischier neither do merc or johnny

y/ndevils00 *i* think otherwise

ehaula i wouldn’t necessarily say we started listening to you, i think we just did pretty good at staying out of the box this game

y/ndevils00 why do you do this? do you not wanna be my favorite uncle?

ehaula i’m your favorite uncle regardless. don’t lie.

trevorzegras go hughesy! that’s my best friend!

y/ndevils00 yeah? well he’s MY boyfriend, so HA!

trevorzegras this wasn’t a competition, y/n. you don’t need to assert your dominance

y/ndevils00 sorry, i had a nightmare last night

trevorzegras about what?

jackhughes that i realized i was in love with your “slutty ways” and i left her for you

trevorzegras aww, y/n! you’re intimidated by me and jack’s love!

y/ndevils00 i actually just know you’re a slut

trevorzegras all i’m hearing is that you’re jealous of me

y/ndevils00 then get your ears checked

[anystalker707]

Admiral, my Admiral (2/2)

Pairing: Portgas D. Ace x [gender neutral] Admiral! Reader

Summary: Grieving.

Tags: angsty, but there are hopes

Requested by @1luvcatzs ["ELLO, SO SORRY, LATE. SO SO LATE. FOT THE PART 2 OF MY ADMIRAL- CAN YOU UGM. • Ace survives (somehow)- obviously, I think!! Reader doesn't find out that he's alive until after the two year skip–(...)"]

MASTERLIST

PART ONE

• Two years later, your chest still hurt whenever you saw anything that reminded you of Ace

• Your eyes glued to the newspaper on your desk, the ache in your chest intensifying when you saw Strawhat Luffy’s face on it

• A lot of things had changed, but not your feelings, not the way you missed Ace, missed cuddling him, his sweet voice taunting you to give him kisses, but it was all too far away now

• The setting had changed, too. The change of quarters was great, honestly. Many things had changed after the war, not just within yourself, but also regarding things inside the Marine. Moving away from Marineford was suiting, like starting a fresh new page, even if it already had faint marks on it. It hurt, either way. Of course, it did

• It felt like death when you headed back to report to the Revolutionary Army, and you found Sabo. He was also having a breakdown over Ace’s death, much to your surprise, but it felt somehow comforting. It brought everything bubbling up again, and it was probably the first time that you had the opportunity to really feel and grieve Ace’s death without the risk of getting in any sort of trouble, allowing yourself to cry until your chest hurt and no tears fell anymore

• The pain was unbearable whenever someone brought Ace’s death up inside the Marine, being happy about it, glad that Roger’s bloodline was successfully erased. Talking about how Ace deserved to die, or how he should’ve suffered more. Sometimes, it felt like a sick joke whenever they talked about that around you, with twisted grins and glancing at your reaction from the corners of their eyes

• No one was allowed to talk about Ace like that. No one knew him like you did; no one even knew him properly. No one knew how he could be caring and sweet, just wanting to be loved and feel like he deserved his space in the world. You wish you had the opportunity to give Ace more love, that you’d given him more love when you still could, but you just couldn’t.

• The emotional scars remained there through the years, hurting. The physical scars, too. The scar on your hand was a constant reminder, a scar that had resulted from the fight you’d put up when you found out what was actually happening with Ace while the Marine held you across the ocean. The fight that had not been enough. The fight that you lost.

• Sometimes you wondered why you were still kept alive if the Marine really needed you that much. Honestly, sometimes you wanted to leave and let the Marine come after you to kill, but Ace wouldn’t want you to do that, right? You could practically see him beside you, cupping your cheek and giving you comforting kisses

• It was easy to find yourself wondering what would happen if Ace was still alive, still by your side. How he’d probably risk coming over just to see you. Spend nights with you, with pointless talks, or telling you about his days off in the sea. You missed it so much, really. Lying in bed with Ace while hugging each other, only illuminated by the moonlight, whispering sweet things to each other

• Ace would probably still try to get you to quit the Marine, talk about how you deserved a better life, how you deserved to be free and live life properly, and that he was up to helping you with all of it

• At the end of the day, all of it was just daydreaming. Just an attempt to ease the pertinent pain that numbed you throughout the days, but it still managed to leave you empty and crying into your pillow while blaming yourself. You could’ve done more, right? You could’ve suspected something or found a way out of there

• The routine was so monotonous. Work was the only thing that kept you going, even if you refused to engage in a lot of missions that required action. Everything was an unpleasant blur as if a part of you were missing, a lacking wire or something

• Then, you were called for a mission again. Something that required someone from a high post, strong, and to work under secret, and you couldn’t fucking believe Punk Hazard was creating problems again

• Your ship stopped by the cold coast, which was at least better than the hot one, and you could already see trouble in the distance when you stepped on the snow, adjusting your coat

• The island was truly a mess, with people that had gone missing actually there, people who were supposed to be dead now running around, a War Lord, the Strawhats…

• You caught a glimpse of familiar black hair while the fire burned in the corner of one of the labs. You couldn’t see properly through the debris, nor could you hear a lot through the loud and incoherent shouts and chatter that filled place, but you could swear that you’d seen that loving face spotted with freckles before the crowd dispersed, and you were forced to move

.𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟.

[kaptainandy]

Re-Animator Fandom Canon Opinion Poll!

Since Beyond Re-Animator is controversial amongst most Re-Animator fans - one of the biggest critiques being Dan's exclusion and/or him testifying against Herbert - I'm curious to see what would be the most popular rewrite to the canon. Regardless of your thoughts on Beyond Re-Animator, as a movie/story as a whole, I'm just interested in your preferred outcome/status of Herbert and Dan post Bride of Re-Animator. i.e. what do you think is the most likely, in-character/appropriate outcome/consequences after the events of Bride? I mainly approached asking this question with a focus on the opinion of Herbert and Dan's relationship to each other and how the judicial system views them.

So, that being said...

*Herbert and Dan are wanted fugitives, but have avoided arrest

**Wracked with guilt, Dan is on the outside actively trying to rectify his actions by attempting to overturn Herbert's conviction, lessen his sentence, etc. Whether Herbert is made aware of this effort and Dan's specific method to free him is up to you.

Thanks in advance for your thoughts! Please share for a bigger sample size. Feel free to leave your thoughts in the tags. The purpose of this poll is mostly just interest in the broad fandom consensus, but also I've got a potential project bouncing around in the brain that this info is pertinent to so 👀

[anghraine]

I have a complex relationship with my bio father, since he didn't raise me, but I did spend enough time with him to know him (he is not the same person as this one, who has been much more present in my life and who I'm very close to). This is only pertinent to ... anything because it's related to my also complicated relationship with gender, and perhaps more importantly, to my Star Wars feelings.

There are some ways in which the Anakin-Luke relationship powerfully reminds me of my own relationship with my bio father, a very flawed man whom I've always temperamentally resembled far far more than anyone else in my life, despite some very important differences. On top of that, by no more than the chance roll of the genetic dice, I happen to have a strong physical resemblance to him rather than my mother's family as well.

On the other hand, the Luke-Anakin arc hit me hard at 15 and always afterwards for the opposite reason as well. Ultimately, the Skywalker arc goes in such a different direction from both my life and what might be reasonably expected of Luke and Anakin's relationship that there's a powerful wish-fulfillment to it as well. But it's played out on such a fantastic and epic scale that it's not as immediate or visceral as something more domestic in scale would be.

There are other reasons that it speaks to me, but realistically, those have always been part of it.

So anyway, I was editing some of my Lucy (f!Luke Skywalker) fics, and specifically a section in which Lucy does not realize that Obi-Wan is trying not to have Anakin flashbacks while interacting with her, but it's (hopefully) obvious to the reader. Then literally at that moment I got a Facebook alert from my bio father. It's a bit of a pain to be interrupted mid-edit because I so easily lose track of what I was thinking, but his mother is very old and in declining health, so I always check his messages.

It was not about my grandmother. It was a meme he'd tagged me in that was just a joke about how firstborn daughters are so often just like our fathers.

me: >_<

[least-carpet]

In honour of Vegaspete Day, have some vegaspete recs!

As always, please check the warnings/tags on the fics themselves, since I can't guarantee I won't miss something. Also, uh, given the canon interactions between these two, they're going to be extra pertinent. The kidnapping/torture/captive sex/cycle of abuse stuff is all canon, after all, although now that I look at these, I don't think I included a single safehouse fic...

My only requirement for this reclist is that every fic feature vegaspete and also have roughly around 3000 or fewer hits, since there's a lot of great stuff in this fandom and I had to narrow it down somehow. Happy vegaspete day, everybody!

DURING CANON

somewhere between the heart and the vein by @veliseraptor (M, vegaspete, episode 14 fic). Summary: "In the aftermath of the failed coup, Pete has: an unconscious and possibly dying Vegas Theerapanyakul, a whole lot of feelings to work through, and no job. He goes from there." I love everyone's different ideas about what happened between Vegas getting shot by the pool and Vegas talking to Pete in the hospital, and this is a delightful entry in the genre.

POST-CANON

It's There for the Asking by @ellieellieoxenfree (M, vegaspete) Summary: "A drunk Pete gets philosophical." Pete is drunk and not so sure about being a person. Vegas is crazy in love. A very sweet vision of post-canon life.

replay value by @lu-sn (M, vegaspete, Macau POV). Summary: "Vegas and Pete are stuck in a time loop — or so they claim. On the scale of bizarre shit those two get up to, Macau thinks this rates pretty low." A super fun take on the time loop! I love the Macau POV and how I think it expresses what he can bring to Vegas and Pete's dynamic—they're smart and they're deadly, but Macau's playfulness and creativity allow him to propose solutions that they just can't see. Love this and love MVP, the cute family trio of my heart.

AND A COUPLE OF AUS

Parallel Talk by nev_longbottom (M, vegaspete, AU where Vegas has Gone To Therapy, among other differences). Summary: "Vegas thinks Pete is in the (kink) scene and Pete thinks he has confirmed he is in the (punk) scene. So when Vegas offers to train Pete, Pete assumes this is extension of his bodyguard training. It's not. It's really, really not." This fic involves the funniest possible failure to communicate, featuring Vegas the extremely needy back-to-back texter, Pete the clueless but happy masochist, and Chan, who would like to be excluded from the narrative, please. Every re-read reveals another hilarious detail.

What's on Tap by littlelamblittlelamb (M, vegaspete, kinnpete, background kinnporsche, described in the tags as an AU where "Pete was in a really grim casual hookup situation with Kinn," which, whoo boy.) Summary: "Vegas has always delighted in Kinn's sloppy seconds - what if Pete was just that?" I will never, ever stop thinking about this. Like, grim, precise, so interesting, made me want to hit Kinn with a baseball bat. A good time! But for real, sometimes I think of it out of the blue and get mad all over again.

[archivalofsins]

So I found a really fun visual parallel between Harrow and Deep Cover today.

For quick and easy reference these are all of my posts regarding this prisoner.

Kotoko Yuzuriha

July 8, 2023 Dissociation Gang Round 1 July 13, 2023 Dissociation Gang Round 2 July 17, 2023 Um hey- what the fuck??? (goes over everything in her basement studio and the animal pelts.) July 19, 2023 The Notorious Five (Seriously discusses their covers songs even though it's been stated those are just for fun but are chosen with the character in mind to an extent.) August 12, 2023 Obligatory Yuno mention (This continues the dissociation gang thing. As I point out the glitched switching within in Tear Drop and relate it to that briefly.) January 17, 2024 Possible reason for the pairing of 09 & 010 January 18, 2024 Deep Cover Analysis Stage 1 January 18, 2024 Defining Grooming (Status: Irritated.) February 3, 2024 Kazui and Kotoko Similarities and Parallels March 25, 2024 Second trial First Interrogation Question (Status at time: Bored) March 27, 2024 Second trial Third Interrogation Question (Status at time: Annoyed) April 3, 2024 Won't tolerate sin? April 3, 2024 Persecution & Ableism

And many others not tagged probably.

I have written so much on all these characters. I could make lists for all of them. Yet the one pertinent to this post would be July, 17, 2023 Um, hey- what the fuck?

Because the parallel I'll be showcasing here can be directly tied to points made there.

Though this very well may be another visual interpretation of the same scene. Since as we know from Harrow and Deep Cover showing it more blatantly the wolf represents Kotoko anyway. Also since Kotoko was working over time trial one to make the focus of her music video just that one guy despite it still being implied there were other victims it wouldn't be strange for the paper relating to that to be the only one scratched of at the end of Harrow.

Yet, in Deep Cover everything is crossed out in some area displaying the accurate number of attacks or the progression of her behavior. Also in the Deep Cover shot we get a clearer image of what I highlighted in the Um hey-what the fuck? post the pelts.

We can see both pelts clearly in this image something that's a fair bit more difficult to see in the image from Harrow.

Because of the lighting. The way the light is shining in can be considered indicative of the time of the day. So it could be around sun down in Harrow or just more cloudy outside given it was raining as she attacked that guy and it stops after she finishes and since Kotoko is in her murder fit when she's down in this room in Deep Cover.

A outfit she is never shown wearing inside this room throughout all of Harrow but the hoodie is shown to be hanging on the chair at the beginning of it.

Jacket circled for convenience here,

It's fair to reason that the sequences when this jacket are shown in this area happened after the attack and murder. She probably started with sitting on the floor then got up hung her jacket on the chair and sat down.

The end of Harrow where we see the area without Kotoko or her jacket is probably during the crime as illustrated though. However those two pelts are there within Harrow from the very start.

Here's a version I edited to circle the areas where the pelts are.

Deep cover only makes them a bit easier to see do to the better lighting. So yeah that's why I'm saying these scenes are paralleling each other or are the same scene depicted two different ways.

[thestarpletsystem]

{I'm going to post this as it's own thing as well, since I'm pretty proud of it. This is in response to "The Future is Plural" and those who respond with The Future is Singlet. This entire thing is aimed at anti-endos, and I think is an important read for them. I also wanted it to reach my normal audiance as well, since a lot of you probably have some of the tags I tagged the original as blocked.}

"The future is singlet" goes back to what I reblogged earlier, which I doubt y’all would see since it’s a pro-endo post. Nobody is asking for there to be more abused kids. If they are, they probably aren’t speaking in good faith on this argument or they have something else they need to work through.

Let’s say that we know, 100% for a fact, the only way to be a system is through trauma. There is still use for you in that phrase. The point of “the future is plural” is not what it says on the tin, as you've shown. We’re not asking for there to be more systems, if we’re thinking strictly in your terms. We’re asking for it to be believed; for it to be taken seriously. We want it to be normalized in the way where if someone says “hey I’m plural” we believe them. We want there to be more understanding and less hate. We want to ensure that those ahead of us don’t have to face what we have, and that what those before us have done was not in vain.

You know why it’s not okay for clinicians to abuse their patients with DID? It’s not because they woke up one day and decided “maybe we shouldn’t be treating our patients like this.” It’s because activists before us did their job. Back in the ‘80s there were so many fucked up practices being done to those with DID, named MPD at that time. Which I must include because it is pertinent to the history of our disorder. Law suits have been brought to court and have been won over these practices. Now, while we are quite a bit better in terms of clinicians that specialize in DID, we aren’t in terms of the general population. They may still believe we are voilent and scary. They may still believe that it’s not a real disorder. They may still believe that it’s just like what they see on TV. Which, as everyone here knows, it isn’t.

We want to make sure they understand that we are humans, too. While we may be many, we aren’t terrible or lying or any number of things others who have no experience with DID think. We, as a community, deserve better. We deserve to be believed. We deserve to be treated with respect and dignity.

And so, I bring it back to one of my first points. Even if we were arguing for there to be more systems, it’s not in the way you desperately want to believe. It’s not begging for more traumatized children. It’s not through pain and suffering. Its a call for pride on all sides. It’s also recognition of the systems that just happen, it’s to celebrate the beauty of those who found their plurality and aren’t traumatized like you or I. You can believe that systems and dissociation ONLY form from trauma, but you wouldn’t be right. To the end where even Dr. Collin A. Ross, one of, if not THE leading researcher in the field, outright states that there are those out there who have been diagnosed with DID and who struggle with dissociation who have no trauma history. He himself has said that there are even people who are multiple that would not fit the criteria or don’t have the difficulty that those with DID must to experience for it to be the disorder it is. (Thanks sysmedsaresexist!)

If you won’t listen to those who experience endogenic plurality, if you won’t listen to those who have done research and have still come to this conclusion, if you won’t listen to those leading in the field of trauma and dissociation, then who will you listen to? How will you be able to make sure you’re not spreading the same misinformation and hate that the phrase “The future is plural” is a desperate plea to combat? How are you better than the endogenic systems you want to demonize so badly?

[landinrris]

Re: your tag “a top 10 video of the day tbh” - that made me curious. What ARE your top videos of the day and why?

Shuffled back through the videos for this, so here we go in no real particular order because I'm endeared to all of them and horrible with ranking things when they all make my mind vibrate in equal amounts. Shoving this under a "read more" because it got long (top 10 moments and all) and fic-y.

I'll start out with the first real video of the day that I remember (not counting Shaun Farrugia's Insta Story that clued everyone into Lando being on the boat). Just them dancing with each other in essentially a circle of people. Martin's hand on Lando's shoulder, his thumb splaying out along Lando's collarbone. Makes me weak and ill in equal measure. They have several moments caught on camera that feel like a "this is us being close while still in public," type thing.

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Them dancing together at the Decks. Who knows the state of Lando's sobriety at this point. It's so carefree and open. I love the little flags on his cheeks and the ribbon around his head (the chain of his necklace poking out the back of his hoodie overtop his undershirt). I'm pretty sure this is around the same time that Lando asks Martin if he wants a drink as well because Eva's on the other side of Martin as the camera pans up.

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This is a more understated moment that's pretty quick, but I just love that they're dancing in their own little world with everyone. Parked up next to each other because where else would they be? (original video link)

This video of them with Lando asking Martin if he wants a drink 🫠. Lando taking the second to ask Martin if wants anything, Martin pulling him close so he can hear what Lando's trying to tell him, the person recording the video panning over to them and then almost immediately pulling away, Martin stealing Lando's drink and then not letting him go while he pretends to drink it.... it's every bit of the video as you can see 😅. Like bro, you can let go of him, it's okay. But no, it's another one of those little moments I mentioned earlier where they can let themselves have this little thing in the middle of a crowded boat with who knows how many cameras pointed in their direction.

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This video simply because it's cute and short and sweet. Them both vibing. I've put it here more so because of Lando's little dance and shimmy. It makes me sickeningly endeared. Lando may have quit DJing apart from special circumstances, but you can tell he loves getting into the rhythm of it.

I have... too much to say about this one... The fact that they're kind of sequestered off to the side a bit- Lando even behind what looks like a makeshift curtain of clothing. There are a few others around them, but boy if their attention isn't solely on each other. Their little mirrored dance is so much as well. But what absolutely annihilates me is the way you can tell they're both smiling at each other towards the end. Plus the fact that it looks like Lando either leans into Martin as the video cuts, or Martin pulls him in. In any case, it's a moment of privacy and it makes me ill.

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These are two long Insta stories I recorded for reasons, the first one more pertinent to it immediately being here than the second. I just love Lando sitting in and amongst everyone. He's sitting next to Martin's father (which is an entirely separate thing tbh) chatting and having fun. The second video was included because when the lights go off and a spotlight shines back onto the area he was, Lando doesn't seem to be there, which was an interesting note I wanted to have in the records because of the shot of Martin making his way back in that direction during the first half. Much to think about. (Tumblr didn't like my embedded video, so here's a screenshot of the first bit, but you'll have to go through the link to see all of what I'm talking about)

This was just a quick tiny thing piggy-backing off the last video, but it's a more closeup shot of Lando chatting with Martin's father. It makes me all soft inside that he gets close with the families of the people important to him. (Tumblr also didn't like the embedded video that was originally here, so here's a screenshot if you don't want to click through to see the actual clip)

Putting this video here because of both Mat Normann's arms around Lando, but also because Martin's there vibing and dancing by his side. Like, they're truly just existing and having a good time. Need to know who gave Lando that stupid little visor. But again, I love it for the subtleness and the comfort with how packed that room was.

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And then finally, this video that might as well be an hour long. The smiles, the bouncing back and forth... Martin's arm moves away from Lando at one point, almost like he was pulling Lando at the beginning. Many thoughts head very full. They almost never get to do this at the same time with each other, and it's an addicting feeling.

[phillippadgettwrites]

The First Time, Every Time: Fire

Rated X / 3377 Words / Posted on AO3 / Tagging @today-in-fic

Scully’s suggestion that he take her to lunch wasn’t a serious one, but he takes her anyway. He’s too distracted in the wake of Phoebe’s surprise visit to get any work done at this point, and he figures he owes her one after she single handedly solved the case while he was busy being mindfucked by Scotland Yard’s finest. He takes her somewhere just a little bit dingy with a full bar, the kind of place they aren’t likely to run into any of their cohorts from the Bureau. While they’ve never directly discussed it, he’s sure she’s aware there’s some gossip circulating about them, and though it’s entirely baseless, it’s best not to feed the beast in his experience.

He’s a little embarrassed that Scully bore witness to the power Phoebe clearly still has over him. He’s a little embarrassed to learn that, even ten years later, when she says jump he still asks how high, and then tries to double it. The moment she kissed him he felt like that naive college boy again, so starved for affection that he’d take it from the teeth of a snarling dog and then thank it for biting him.

He suspects that Scully only orders a drink so he’ll feel comfortable doing the same, though she reasons that she doesn’t really have anything else that needs finishing today, so it’s not an issue if her afternoon is a total loss. She’s actually a really good friend, now that he’s thinking about it. He’s only ever thought of her as his partner, but she shows up for him outside of work, too. And while he might have expected her to bristle at his moderately unprofessional behavior during the investigation, she’d only rolled her eyes and gently teased him, much like a friend would.

“So,” she says halfway through their second round of drinks. He can tell by the wry smile on her mouth that she’s wading into uncharted territory. “Would I be correct if I guessed that Phoebe ripped your heart to pieces and then told you to clean up the mess?”

Mulder cringes a little, but he’s smiling too. Not because it’s funny, but because she’s right.

“Something like that,” he says, then takes a sip of his drink. “Though I wish I could say it only happened once.”

“Ah,” Scully says knowingly, sitting back in her seat and resting the ankle of one leg on the knee of the other.

They both removed their suit jackets the moment they sat down, and Mulder has since loosened his tie and cuffed his shirtsleeves. Scully is wearing one of those ruffled blouses she seems to have in every color, the ones that have a rather deep V in the neck that’s made modest by all the excess material surrounding it. Sometimes he looks at her in her boxy suits and shoulder pads and thinks about what she looked like in nothing but her bra and panties under candlelight, but he’s careful never to let her see him looking at her that way. The fact that she’s beautiful is filed away in his mind behind more pertinent traits like intelligent, brave, determined, funny, and loyal.

“Pathetic, I know,” he says, looking down at his glass to hide the chagrin on his face. “And she just about looped me in for another round, if I’m being honest.”

“The sex was that good, huh?” she says, and he snaps his head up to be sure that it’s still his consummately professional partner sitting across the table from him.

She’s still there, the skin on her chest flushed pink with booze. She smirks behind her glass, perhaps a bit proud of her locker room talk.

“Depends on your definition of good, I guess,” he answers honestly. “It was pretty wild, and at the tender age of twenty-one, wild was as good as it got.”

Scully’s eyebrows raise curiously and he feels his groin grow just a bit heavy. He’s not sure how explicit of a discussion she’d be open to, but he’s interested in finding out.

“Are we talking ‘group sex’ wild, or ‘masochism’ wild?” she asks, just as casually as if she were asking him what classes he and Phoebe had together at Oxford. Mulder clears his throat.

“I think there was undeniably some masochism involved on my part, but more like high-risk or transgressive.”

“Transgressive,” Scully repeats with interest, her head tilting thoughtfully to the side. She doesn’t ask, but he tells her anyway.

“She, uh…she gave me a blow job on Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s grave once, as an example,” he says, hiding his pride behind sheepishness.

A slow grin breaks out over Scully’s face, and Mulder feels a warm flush all over his body.

“Agent Mulder,” she admonishes him lightly, picking up her nearly empty glass and sucking the last bits of liquid off the bottom. “How disrespectful.”

“Yeah,” he says, looking between her smiling face and the table top. “I think that was kind of the point. It was hardly worth it, though. She broke up with me the next day with no explanation and she was sleeping with one of my friends by the end of the week.”

Scully’s smile fades and she holds her glass up, making eye contact with their waiter and gesturing that they’d like another round.

“Mulder, I’ve known plenty of women like her,” she says, her tone shifting as she uncrosses her legs and leans in. “She hates herself so much that the only thing that brings her any pleasure is to be pursued. She showers men with affection and attention, and then withdraws it as soon as she knows they’re hooked.” She pauses while the waiter drops off fresh drinks and takes away their empty glasses, as well as the remains of their lunch. “Men chasing after her, asking what they did wrong and how they can win her back, is the entire objective. Let me guess, if you ever call her out on it she acts offended that you’d define her character based on a couple little mistakes?”

Now Mulder sits back in his chair, disturbed by such an accurate description of his tumultuous relationship with Phoebe.

“Were you secretly attending Oxford in 1983, Scully?” he asks uncomfortably, then takes a gulp of his drink that burns all the way down his throat.

She smiles, pleased with herself.

“Phoebe isn’t nearly as unique as she’d like you to think, Mulder,” she says, resting her elbows on the table and then her chin on her joined hands.

“Well, she sure pulled one over on me,” he says, feeling embarrassed again. “More times than I care to admit.”

He drags his middle finger through the ring of water left by his glass, drawing slow, contemplative circles on the table top. Scully’s hand appears from his periphery and settles over his own, and she waits until he looks up at her.

“It’s not your fault, Mulder,” she says tenderly. “She saw a vulnerability in you and she took advantage of it. Having been on the receiving end of that myself, I can empathize with the fact that it’s difficult to see it for what it is when you’re in the middle of it.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” he says lightly, trying to reclaim the playful banter he’d been enjoying a few minutes ago.

Scully withdraws her hand and picks up her glass.

“I wish that I were,” she says wistfully. “Though I can’t say that my own youthful hijinks included oral sex on the gravesites of famed authors. I’m disturbed to learn the origin of your private joke, by the way.”

Mulder laughs, but he also entertains a mental image of Scully spread-eagle on the trampled grass in front of Doyle’s cement headstone, a dark-haired man’s head between her legs.

“Glad to hear you don’t think I’m a total schmuck,” he says.

“No, not a schmuck,” she assures him with a shake of her head. “I will admit to being a bit surprised by how submissive you were towards her, though.”

The comment was clearly offhand, based on her demeanor, but it hits him like an insult.

“Submissive?” he repeats, sitting up a little taller. “What makes you say that?”

She considers him for a moment before answering.

“You deferred to her in every respect,” she explains. “It was quite clear that she was in charge.”

“It was her case,” he shoots back. “Of course she was in charge.”

Scully holds up both her hands, palms facing him, in surrender.

“Forget I said anything,” she says. “We should probably get back to work soon.”

“I’m not submissive, Scully,” he says emphatically, ignoring her previous statement.

“I didn’t mean it pejoratively, Mulder; it’s not a bad thing to be. I was simply saying that I was surprised by it.”

“Well whatever you think you saw, you’re wrong,” he says sternly, trying to catch her eye.

Reluctantly, she makes eye contact and holds it for a beat.

“Whatever you say,” she says, acquiescent but characteristically skeptical.

Mulder clenches his jaw, holding back a tawdry remark. He waves their waiter over and asks for the check, as well as a cab, and then drains his glass. Fifteen minutes later they pile into the back seat of a taxi, buzzed to the point of uselessness as far as work is concerned.

“Where to?” the cabbie asks, meeting Mulder’s eye in the rear-view mirror.

“Alexandria,” he says, and Scully looks over at him.

“No, the J. Edgar Hoover building,” she corrects, and Mulder levels her with a steely stare.

“No, Alexandria,” he says again, and her eyebrows furrow.

“What are you doing?” she asks quietly.

“Where to, folks? Meter’s running,” the cabbie says, annoyed.

“Alexandria,” Mulder repeats, turning to look out the window as the cab pulls away from the curb.

He feels Scully’s eyes on him, but he doesn’t look at her right away. He makes her wait nearly two full blocks before he slowly turns his head and takes in the thoroughly confused expression on her face. Even then, he doesn’t proactively justify his actions like he typically would. He just looks at her, letting his eyes fall to the exposed skin on her chest and then dragging them slowly back up to her face. She opens her mouth and closes it, swallows, then finally turns to look out the window, and he finds himself fighting off a smile. He’s already rendered her speechless and he’s just barely getting started.

The cab deposits them in the parking lot of his apartment building, and after paying the driver he wordlessly heads inside, relying on his reflection in the glass doors to confirm that Scully is following behind him. In the elevator, he again feels her staring him down but does not reward her with eye contact. He behaves as though she isn’t there until the doors open on the fourth floor, at which point he gives her another once-over glance and then says, “After you,” in a tone that tells her it’s a directive, not an offer.

He follows her too-closely down the hall. Not so close that she could rightfully question it, but closer than is socially acceptable. When she arrives in front of apartment forty-two he reaches past her, key in hand, to unlock it, effectively trapping her between his body and the door. She stiffens but doesn’t speak, and when the door swings open he has to touch her back to encourage her inside. She stands in his foyer while he deposits his wallet, keys, and cellphone in their designated places, seemingly waiting to find out what will happen next.

He slips her suit jacket off her shoulders and she lifts her arms out of it, watching him curiously as he hangs it on the billiard ball coat rack near the door. He can feel that her tolerance to continue waiting for the punchline is waning, so he nods toward the dining room table behind her and says, “Have a seat.”

Scully turns to look at each of the three chairs set around the table. One is hosting a stack of books, one a pile of unfolded laundry, and the other a banker’s box full of junk he was planning to donate.

“Where?” she asks flatly, one eyebrow raised.

Mulder steps forward and grabs her by the waist, hoisting her up onto the tabletop. She makes a startled little gasping sound and wraps her hands around his forearms, regarding him with wide eyes.

“What are you doing?” she asks, alarmed.

He pushes even closer, so close that he’s occupying the space between her open legs, his hands still on her waist, and leans down as though he’s going to kiss her. She stays stock still, her eyes open, and at the last second he shifts his head to the side and brushes his lips lightly across her ear.

“Who’s submissive now?” he whispers, and he feels her shiver at the tickle of his breath.

He leans away from her, grinning victoriously and expecting to see something along the lines of embarrassment or irritation on her face, but she looks awestruck. Her lips are slightly parted, her eyes unfocused, and she’s breathing heavily.

“Scully?” he asks hesitantly. Did he take it too far? Did he scare her?

Her hazy eyes take a meandering path up his chest to his face, then narrow a little. Her jaw sets, the corner of her mouth quirks, and she reaches up with one hand to grab hold of the loosened tie still hanging from his neck. He opens his mouth in preparation to apologize, but she tugs hard and his mouth crashes into hers. Suddenly he’s tasting whisky and lipstick, and the heels of her shoes are digging into his ass.

Something he should have guessed about Dana Scully is that she takes no prisoners. The one time he attempts to come up for air with the intention of making sure she’s thought this through, she silences him with her hot little hand down the front of his dockers, and he decides that they’ll just have to learn to lie in the bed they’re making. She pops half the buttons off his shirt when she artlessly tears it open, then rips his undershirt off over his head so violently she just about takes one of his ears with it. She gets him down to his boxers while she’s still perched on the edge of his dining room table, fully dressed, and he realizes that he’s completely ceded control to her.

Her hands are just slipping under the waist of his boxers, preparing to divest him of the last scrap of clothing on his body, when he grabs them and pins them to the table beside her hips on either side. She looks up at him, panting, and smiles.

“Point taken, agent,” he says, his face inches from hers.

“You do realize that brute force isn’t dominance, right?” she playfully chides him, looking at one of her restrained hands and then the other.

She’s so sassy, a trait she normally doles out in bite size pieces, and he’d be a damn liar if he tried to claim he didn’t like it.

“What was your plan here?” he asks, grateful that the bend in his waist necessary to hold her hands against the table is obscuring the fact that he’s half-hard.

“I might ask you the same question,” she retorts haughtily.

A beat passes, and she runs her tongue across her bottom lip nervously. It occurs to him that maybe this isn’t just a prank that’s gone too far.

“Are you drunk, Scully?”

She sighs, her head lolling to the side thoughtfully.

“Maybe a little bit,” she confesses. “Are you?”

“Maybe a little bit,” he agrees. “Am I taking advantage of you?”

She shakes her head slowly. “Not yet,” she says, and something in the tenor of her voice sends blood rushing to his lap.

“Would you like me to?” The words leave his mouth before he’s given them even a split second of consideration, and the resulting flash of adrenaline makes him dizzy.

“Maybe a little bit,” she answers, her chest heaving.

The second he lets go of her hands so he can simultaneously kiss her and get to work unbuttoning her blouse, she pushes his boxers off his hips, leaving him nude. She doesn’t touch him right away, though she makes no attempt to hide her appreciative leering, and the combined pride and desperation bolster his confidence to the point that they quiet the little voice in his head that’s telling him this is a bad idea.

In short order, he fills in the details of her body that were previously hidden beneath white cotton. Her breasts are small but perfectly proportioned, and when she lifts her hips and allows him to divest her of her slacks and panties, he finds a full patch of ginger curls between her legs.

For a moment they just look at each other, her hands on his waist and his resting on the tops of her thighs. When he looks at her face and she meets his eye, he at once realizes the gravity of what’s happening and also that it’s already too late to avoid whatever the consequences will be. Nonetheless, he’s afraid.

Scully smiles demurely and tosses her head to get her hair out of her face.

“You’re not getting submissive on me, are you?” she asks playfully, though he senses that she’s a little afraid too.

He allows himself to get lost in living up to her expectations, almost like he’s playing a role. He’s the man who carries her to his couch and tells her to watch while he tastes the slickness between her legs. He’s the man who holds her hands above her head while he makes her come with his fingers. He’s the man who hands her a—miraculously—unexpired condom and instructs her to put it on him, and then he is the man who bends her over the arm of his couch and tries not to seem too proud when she gasps at the size of him and comes again within a minute.

She moves to sit on the couch, her legs wobbling, and looks skeptically at the condom still snuggly covering his erection, which isn’t waning in the least.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you weren’t finished,” she says breathlessly as she pulls a blanket off the back of his couch to cover her nudity.

He’d hoped she wouldn’t notice. Diana never did. Or she didn’t care enough to say anything about it, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says, tugging the condom off and retrieving his boxers from the floor near the table.

“Are you that drunk?” she asks, mildly alarmed.

“No,” he answers quickly. “It just…doesn’t always happen for me.”

“Hm,” she says thoughtfully, and he wishes she’d stop looking at him like that. Like she might actually listen if he told her about the other ways Phoebe took advantage of his vulnerability. About how difficult it is for him to let go in front of someone else now. About how lonely it makes him feel.

He sits beside her and they talk for a long time. About nothing. About everything. About what they just did and what it means for them. Eventually, he does tell her about Phoebe. She doesn’t make him feel weak or silly, or express surprise that a man could experience that kind of issue. She’s empathetic, and angry on his behalf, and she doesn’t take it personally or claim to know how to fix him like most women do. The booze wears away and a new kind of trust is forged, and he gets the feeling that she might turn out to be the best friend he’s ever had.

When she kisses his cheek and slips her hand under the waist of his boxers, he knows that it’s not out of pity. She doesn’t touch him like he’s broken or treat him like a project, and he doesn’t feel any pressure to perform. She coaxes him to the edge and he trusts that she’ll be there to catch him when he falls.

He lets go.