#That girl needs books dammit

[lycomorpha]

Dusty's field notes and sketchbook

Flora of Kreet: Dust root

Found in volcanic habitat nr research outpost on Kreet, moon of Anselon, Narion system

Largest plant species in area, 2-2.5m tall, other small scrubby plants/grasses visible, all appear red

Single stem forms a loop - emerges, puts out aerial roots leaning in direction of growth, reconnects to ground

Small needle-like cauline leaves arranged in threes at intervals along whole of stem

Incongruously colourful pod (could be to attract seed-spreading wildlife?) in cerise pink and turquoise

Pod is source of fibre, intricate tiered surface texture

Stem and roots have a rough, peeling or wrinkled texture

Are these huge looping stems individual plants, or is each part of an even larger underground whole? Is the structure we see above ground only there to spread seeds from its pod, or is it perennial? So many questions, no time to dig for answers.

Video game botany: the flora of Starfield

Alternative title: "People got me games and now here I am with even more botany nonsense lol." I have many video game botany things I want to do, and not enough time. So for BG3 and Starfield, I'm just sketching as I go and making field notes as if I was out with the botanists IRL. Dusty's field sketches for Starfield, notes from druid Tav in BG3. First up...

~

Dust root

The first plant I came across in Starfield. I wonder whether the dust root plants we see above ground are many individuals or each parts of a mostly-subterranean whole. Some plants on earth rarely emerge above ground and most of their life cycle happens out of sight. I've read about at least one plant that even flowers underground. So maybe dust root is like that and just puts up these loops when it's time to go to seed? Their brightly coloured seed pods seem so incongruous compared to every other plant around. So maybe the colour attracts fauna that eat and spread seeds.

~

There are things I love in Starfield (botany, Andreja, ship-building) and things I do not (why TF can I not give Cora Coe books??, needing to run soooo many mods, the persuasion omfgs.) But it's game with botanical/entomological opportunities, so I'm in.

Dusty and dust root. They'd probably smile if they weren't about to be jumped by a Kreet stalker, little baskets won't let people botanise in peace FFS

[bitchin-beskar]

listen it is almost 4 am and my desire to write a novel where the heroine has two potential love interests; one being the so-called “hero” who’s only character trait is that he thinks the heroine should love him because he’s the hero, OR the morally grey, tragically backstoried, “I’ll kill for you,” totally willing to be the emotionally supportive murder husband “villain” and instead of choosing the “hero” like EVERY GODDAMN YA NOVEL EVER she chooses the “villain” is SO FUCKING STRONG I LITERALLY CANNOT SLEEP

[szkicel]

so like 2 days ago I finally read one of the comics I bought blind a while ago with comics that I was actually looking for.

anyway Rat Queens is just mid, if not below average. I wrote a rant/review about it but before i finished it I realised this title is just not worth it lmao

After I read it I only wanted to start reading Dungeon Meshi so I can read sth actually good tbh and maybe i’ll sit down to do it today kjhkjh

[a-b-riddle]

Part Five

Can't stop thinking about the attempt of reconciliation and reader ain't having it. Our girl is going to be wilddddd y'all. Also goodnight. See y'all tomorrow (maybe)

You call Meredith when you get home.

You. Are. Fuming. She's not sure she can ever remember a time you using so many swear words at one time.

How fucking dare them? Immature? You're the immature one? You were the one trying your best to salvage four failing relationship meanwhile none of those assholes could be bothered to try and keep one. They had one person to manage: you.

"I wanna go out this weekend." "Wear something tight and borderline risk indecent exposure."

"You know what I always say," Meredith begins. "The best way to get over someone-"

"is to get under someone else." You finish. You weren't exactly keen on the idea of bringing someone to your bed just yet, but a little attention would do you some good. "I don't want to fuck someone just yet." You admitted. "I'm more on the getting drunk and making out."

"I didn't know we resorted back secondary school heavy petting?" She teased.

"University, Dear." You corrected. "I didn't peak until after I graduated."

"No." She argued. "You didn't put your books down long enough to realize that boys actually wanted to fuck you." You were glad she couldn't see you roll your eyes. "Saturday work for you? I have a late night Friday and won't be up for it."

"That works."

"Sorry." She apologized. "I plan on getting you absolutely smashed so I need to be ready to play the nanny. I know how you love to get drunk and run off."

It was true. You had always found it hilarious when you were drunk to just run. Quite literally run away. It got to a point during university where Meredith would handcuff you to her so you didn't stray.

"I won't run." Your sober mind promised.

"Uh huh." Meredith's tone told you that she knew that was a load of shit. "I'll text Tabs. Let her know the plan."

The next day at the shop was pretty uneventful. No more unexpected visitors. You still had them all blocked. Not caring if now they decided to offer up some bullshit apology.

Months. This had been a steady decline for six months. A text or a simply sorry won't fix this. You weren't sure anything could.

But it didn't matter. You were done and they obviously were too.

You had picked up enough take out to feed a family, but you didn't plan on making your lunch before work or cooking when you got home. The rest of the week you planned on just going through the motions until you could go out Saturday and hopefully get everything out.

You weren't paying attention as you walked down the hallway to your flat. Fishing in your purse for keys. You were at almost at your door when you saw him.

Sitting next to your door was a familiar face. A face you felt you haven't seen in forever.

“What are you doing here, Kyle?" Your voice was flat as you continued to blindly try and find your keys with one hand. Fuck. You really need to clean out your purse...

“My key wouldn’t work.” He explained. "So I’m out here.”

"I'm aware why you're not in my apartment since I changed the locks," you said, trying to keep your irritation at bay. "What I am asking is why did you come here?"

"You won't return any of our messages."

"You're all blocked, so technically I didn't really get any messages." "Besides, you don't get to complain to me about not responding to texts, Kyle Garrick." Your fingers finally wraps around them. God bless. "If you're here for your things, it'll have to wait. I have to sort through everyone's shit and I don't know whose is whose."

"We need to talk." He explains as you put the key into the lock, opening the door.

"Nah," you say scrunching your nose in that way he used to adore. "I'm good. But you can swing by tomorrow and pick up your things if you'd like." You say before trying to shut the door on him. You were stupid in thinking you could be faster than him.

Dammit.

"I know things haven't been good and I've definitely could have been better,'' he admits. "But can you at least try and let us apologize? Let us try and work it out."

"No." You answered, trying to close the door. Not caring if you had to resort to kicking his shins to get him out.

"Why not?" He countered.

“Maybe because I've already tried, Kyle?” You gave up on trying to shut him out. You were strong, but he didn't have any issues in besting you. “Because I actually tried with you. With all of you. You didn’t need to come here giving me excuses about your life being hectic because I’ve made the excuses for you.” You didn't miss how he practically flinched. He had always blamed his busy life. Family. Work. You stopped caring about whatever excuse he gave you and realized it was just that. An excuse. “I’ve been telling myself for months that everything you guys didn’t do for me wasn’t because you didn’t care about me. It was because of the stress of your deployments is the reason none of you tell me when you get back from until it’s time to fuck. I tell myself it’s because of the fucked up situation of me being with all of you that makes it awkward to meet your families. Families you all have that I now know I’m not worthy of meeting.” He wanted to correct you. You were. You were worthy. He was an idiot. “It’s not that I need your excuses to make me feel like what you did was justified. No matter what it was, it was apparently to you because you did it.”

He took a step back, processing everything you had said. He had been selfish. You were the reliable constant in his life. Someone he believed he never disappointed. Someone he couldn't disappoint no matter how many times he fucked up.

You took the opportunity to slam the door. Quickly turning the lock before he had a chance to open it back up.

God...

That felt good.

You had spent that evening collecting their thing in case Kyle did show back up tomorrow. You wouldn't make their lives easier by sorting all their shit and organizing it. Everything. One box. Let them figure it out. You almost had a mind to add a shirt that you knew didn't belong to any of them just to have them argue over it. Or least make them think there was someone else...

You were almost tempted if not for the premise that you wanted them to realize this was their fault. Their fuck up. But now that you were officially all broken up, you were free game.

[megamindsecretlair]

Make Me Weak, Part 2

Pairing: Sex Therapist!Terry Richmond x Sub!Black!Fem!/ Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, You are in charge of your own reading experience. Intentional use of AAVE. Cursing, mentions of depression, anxiety, and description of sex acts and sexual issues. Hair pulling, PIV, condom use. Power imbalance, Shy!reader. Dark!Terry. Dom!Terry, AU Terry, all consensual. Sorry if I missed some. I'm not a therapist and while I do not make light of therapy, this is purely for my own fun. Please seek real medical attention when necessary.

Summary: You followed Dr. Richmond’s instructions to the best of your ability. You spent so much time in your mind that willingly descending into your body was an experience that opened your eyes to how much you had neglected. Your second session forces you to confront more truths than what you were ready for. 

Terry reaches some conclusions of his own as he tries to shake whatever is ailing him by disappearing between Tasia’s thighs. Yet his mind is on you, on your thoughts and words. During the second session, he can’t help but push you beyond your limit.

Word Count: 5,018k

Part 1 | AO3 Link

A/N: I'n back babbyyyy. I got so inspired reading so many lovely fics. Plus the encouraging asks really helped. I had TOO much fun writing this and you will not hurt my feelings if you don't want to read this one. However, I must tag to keep my taglist updated. Forgive me, my loves. Toss a coin to your blogger by leaving a comment, gif, or unhinged ask.

You

Hot steam rolled out from the shower as you set it to your desired temperature. You faced yourself in the mirror, thinking over Dr. Richmond’s words. You supposed that there was some truth to what he had told you.

Most people did start by exploring their own bodies first. It must be so easy for guys. Close the door, grab some lotion, and rub one out. Girls on the other hand…your life was constantly spent in a state of panic.

Panic that anything on your person would make your mother snap. Harsh criticisms hidden behind “just talkin’ shit” that Black people liked to hide behind. You were too sensitive to jokey-joke with when you weren’t able to reciprocate. It’s not like you could talk about your mom. It’s not like you could throw insults back in her face and tell her to take it in stride.

Panic that you could be caught or exposed at any point. You were a grown woman, yes. You were also taught to believe that you needed to act as if someone was watching. You believed there was some kind of life after all this and so wouldn’t it stand to reason that someone or something would be looking at you? Or worse, someone would come flying through your door because your family lacked boundaries? 

Panic that you didn’t know what lay on the other side of an orgasm. How would you feel? How would you look? Surely something like that changed a person. Feeling that rush of relief for the first time had to be special. Had to be amazing. Otherwise, why would anyone ever be obsessed with sex? 

Panic that you’d never reach that peak and fall over. Never feel that rush of euphoria that everyone talked about. Porn, books, friend groups. You always felt left out and you didn’t want to anymore, dammit. 

You watched yourself in the mirror as steam overtook it, inch by inch. Until you were only staring at your eyes and the disbelief written all over your face. Would this even work? Were you wasting your time? 

“I need total, focused commitment from you.”

Dr. Richmond’s sultry voice skittered along your naked skin. Goosebumps raised on your flesh from the cold air moving through the house. You would be focused. You would be committed. This was something you wanted so badly, you were fucking desperate. 

So you took deep, measured breaths using the Box method a previous therapist told you about. You inhaled for a count of four, held for four, exhaled for a count of four, and then held it for four. You repeated the process, doing a full body scan. 

You focused on your head, starting with your scalp. You focused on your forehead, feeling the tension melt away and your eyebrows start to relax. You hadn’t even realized that you had it scrunched.

You brought your attention to your eyes, unfocusing them, and allowed them to close. You repeated the process, breathing the entire time, settling down into your body when your mind wanted so badly to escape. To flee. To leave the Horrors. 

When you felt your mind drift, you didn’t chastise yourself. You continued to breathe, focusing on your breaths until you continued with your scan. Your body relaxed fraction by fraction. Your shoulders lowered from up around your neck. Aches and pains became more prominent. 

Your belly expanded and you sighed. You hadn’t even noticed how often you clenched your stomach, never allowing yourself a full breath. You always had to be on edge. Never knew where the next danger was coming from. What new fresh hell you would encounter just around the corner. 

By the time you reached your feet, you felt more relaxed than you had in a long time. Your body prickled with your newfound awareness. Steam caressed your bareskin and you quickly hopped in the shower, letting the warm water cascade across your body.

The water felt different on your body. Each droplet may as well have been a tiny earthquake, popping all over your skin and making you tingle. This…wasn’t too bad. 

You lathered up your facial scrub and gently moisturized your face, soothing the stiff areas. Your jaw popped as it loosened and you moaned from the relief. 

How long? How long have you spent outside of your body? A stranger to it? A foreigner to this vessel you carried around? Had you truly loved your body when you were so alien to it? Or had you just learned to layer on the armor and pretend? 

God, you felt like crying. With one session, Dr. Richmond already had you re-thinking your entire life. Like the answer was there in your face the entire time and you just needed him to shine a light on it. 

You rinsed your face while you grabbed a washcloth and lathered up with your favorite soap. You added body wash and then took your time trailing the washcloth around your body. Starting with your neck, you worked your way down to your chest. 

You took your time feeling the rough cloth against your smooth, watery skin. You rounded the washcloth across your nipples and they beaded under the slow torture. Oh, this was new. This was very nice. 

You were focused, letting the water act as a sound machine, lulling you into a further relaxed state. You followed the washcloth with your hand, moving over and under your areolas and nipples. You pinched your nipples and gave it a tug. You gasped from the responding tug in your pussy.

You moved on, remembering Dr. Richmond’s words about not making it sexual. But fuck, how could you not? 

Heat flushed beneath your skin that had nothing to do with the hot water on your body. You washed your back and then moved lower, skirting your throbbing pussy and washed your legs and dug the cloth between your toes. 

On the way up, your fingers glided around your mound, your hips pushing forward. Your breathing turned rapid, feeling yourself getting more and more excited. Your brain turned to mush, retreating from your actions. Like it wanted to picture something else. You shook your head, and started up with your Box breathing again.

You stopped mid-shower to reorient yourself and get yourself back into that zone of ultimate calm. If Dr. Richmond were there…

You focused on what he might say. There was no rush. There was no rulebook for this sort of thing. There was no reason to chastise yourself. There was no test to pass or box you had to check in order to achieve an orgasm. You just needed to relax, dammit. 

Slowly, achingly slow, you went back to that calm. You continued lathering up your body and then rinsed the soap off. You repeated the process, adding more soap to thoroughly wash your body. To enjoy the feel of the cloth and water and soap on your skin. On your body. 

“This is the only body you’ll ever have so it’s time to think beyond simple body maintenance. Admire your body.”

This was the only body you would ever have. It was time you stopped treating it like the enemy. 

You turned off the water and then got out. The chill air hit the water on your back and you shrieked and shivered, quickly drying off. You went through your nightly routine, taking care of your teeth, face, and deodorant. You sat down on a decorated stool in your bathroom to apply your lotion.

As instructed, you looked at your body. Every mole, every scar, every bump, and every wayward hair. Being in your body was weird to say the least. You had to disassociate to survive your childhood and you never learned to drop those defenses. Your body never realized that it wasn't at war anymore. Or perhaps it was and this was battle fatigue. You were so damn tired.

You massaged the lotion into your skin and then slipped in your panties. You pulled on an ankle bracelet you got while visiting New York once and it made you feel extra pretty, so why not. You turned on your bedside light and pulled out a notebook.

You started a new entry and wrote about the sensations and revelations you experienced. Some of it you would discuss with Dr. Richmond and some of it was never leaving your grave. It felt good to get it all out, uninterrupted.

Sometimes, venting to someone else just gave them room to talk over you. To steer the direction back to them. Brooklyn was like that. In an effort to relate, she ended up taking over the convo and made it about her situation. Then you ended up comforting her about her issue and never feeling truly heard about yours.

In a journal however, you pretended that you were just relaying it to a friend. The type of friend who allowed you to speak. To get your jumbled thoughts out without getting mad or trying overshadow you. 

Done, you collapsed against your bed as if every ounce of strength left your body. You breathed through it, allowed your body to rest for a moment. The hell kind of voo-doo shit did your therapist put you through?

Immediately, warning bells went off in your mind. Surely, you would be whisked away to some super important task around the house. Surely, your phone would ring with some awful accident you had to attend to. Surely…nothing. You were drained. You had nothing. 

You had just enough energy to put the journal up, turn off the light, and drift off to the deepest sleep of your life.

Terry

Tasia bounced like a porn star on Terry’s dick and it wasn’t doing a damn thing for him. He felt himself getting soft the more Tasia shuddered with her pleasure. At least one of them was having fun. 

Maybe he rushed this. Too intent on getting you out of his mind that he hopped immediately into Tasia’s warm heat and didn’t consider that there was no substitution. He knew it was irrational to be drawn to you so fast. After only one session. He was conflicted on that front, but it went beyond just looks. 

Your case, your assessments, your willingness to try, and your obvious smarts was a cocktail shooting through his veins and turning his body liquid. The perfect sub was dropped into his lap and he couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

And as a man used to getting his way in the bedroom, it stuck in his craw that he couldn’t have you. That it wasn’t your pussy that his dick disappeared inside of. Would you moan loudly? Were you shy in the bedroom? Were you enthusiastic? 

What would your mouth look like taking the full length of him? How far down could you suck him? Did that same determination translate to the bedroom?

Tasia grunted beneath him as his dick rose back to life, thoughts of you turning him harder than a brick. He could build a house with how hard he was at the moment, picturing the curves on your body. The natural handles in your waist for his big hands to wrap around. To hold.

He moaned, picturing it all so clearly. His thumbs would dig into your back. The sounds you would make. His hips jerked just thinking of pounding into you. No mercy. You weren’t some fragile flower. Your insightful thoughts were like a mirror to his own. He wanted to explore with you. And the fact that he couldn’t had him pulling Tasia’s hair back.

“Call me Dr. Richmond,” he commanded.

“Yes, D-Dr. Richmond,” Tasia moaned. It was starting to piss him off. 

“Softer,” he said.

“Yes, Dr. Richmond,” she said, bringing her voice lower, softer. It was nowhere near your voice, but it’d do for the fantasy he concocted in his head. He didn’t have time for any extra tricks tonight. He just needed to get to the other side of his nut. 

He closed his eyes and thought about your case. He wondered if you were doing as you were told. He wondered how well you would take commands in the bedroom. If he even had to give commands at all. If you’d instinctively know what he needed when he needed it. Tasia used to know that. Tasia used to have him out of breath. 

Now…she was a beautiful girl with deep mocha skin, a cute face, and wide expressive eyes. She was like a little doe in a meadow somewhere. He was attracted to the overall softness of her and of her body. The natural way she seemed to know what he needed. 

Perhaps it was him that had changed. His tastes. He was no longer interested in a casual sub-relationship. Perhaps he wanted a more permanent sub. One he could explore every single nasty fantasy with and never get bored. He was getting older, getting into his early-thirties without a significant partner.

And that was what he wanted. A partner. An equal. Someone he raced home to see or spent his days thinking about how he would break her and put her back together like a puzzle box. 

Terry groaned and came into the condom, gripping Tasia’s asscheeks for dear life. It was one of the hardest climaxes he ever experienced. His release triggered hers, causing her to fall forward as her pussy gripped his dick. 

He pulled out and immediately disposed of the condom, coming back to help clean up Tasia. 

“That was���different,” she said, using the word in place of something else. He didn’t want his reputation to slacken in that regard, but hell, this whole thing had been a mistake. He still made sure she came twice before he did, but he usually put more oomph into his sexual exploits. 

He usually had Tasia popping her pussy on his face, or contorting her like a pretzel. Now…he was just over it. Over trying to impress someone that wasn’t permanent in his life. That he couldn’t play with whenever he wanted. He was no longer excited at the prospect of making many women cum. He just wanted to make one cum over and over again. He wanted to collect each one like trophies. 

Terry grabbed Tasia’s hand and kissed the back of it. “Forgive me. Tonight should’ve probably been a gym night,” he said. He smiled for good measure, but it was a close-lipped smile.

“Oh, I’m not complaining. That dick still know how to rock my world,” she said. She stood up, pulling on her sweats and sweatshirt, and slipping on her sneakers. He sat down on the bed and watched her, not feeling an ounce of desire. 

She leaned over and grabbed his chin, making him look up at her. “You take care of yourself and whatever or whoever got you in this funk. And if you need more relief, you know my number,” she said.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said with another close-lipped smile. Tasia had been one of his longest play partners, he’d be sorry to see her go. She smiled and gave him a kiss on the cheek, showing herself out. 

Terry sat in his fancy bedroom in his fancy house, staring at the empty archway Tasia disappeared through. His mind and body told him that he was ready for something more. Something tangible. Something he could hold and never let go. He only hoped he found it soon.

You

You clutched your journal to your chest as you sat in Dr. Richmond’s office. Nothing about it had changed except the man himself. He chose to wear a cream colored outfit. A soft, oatmeal colored sweater and khaki pants with white sneakers. His gold rimmed glasses flashed every so often from the light overhead and you couldn’t help catching every single thing about him. If only to distract you from your racing thoughts.

It was one thing to live in your body when you were in the comfort of your own bathroom. Your mind escaped once more, retreated to the safest place you knew. Your knee bounced with nervousness. 

“You don’t have to share if you don’t want to. This is a safe space. It’s your space. You get to decide what we do here,” he said. 

You closed your eyes to the sound of his voice. If he wasn’t so damn helpful, you’d ask for someone else. Literally, anyone else. But he was the first therapist to give you a glimpse of the other side. You wanted that more than you were embarrassed.

“No, I want to share. I need to share,” you said. You licked your lips and then cracked open your journal. You skimmed over things you didn’t want to reveal just yet. Too embarrassing for a second meeting, of course.

“I think…I think my mind is safer. I am constantly on alert that I’m “doing the right thing”, as opposed to what actually makes me happy,” you said. 

When you didn’t say anything, Terry leaned back in his seat. He rolled up his sleeves, revealing the golden brown of his forearms. Your mind emptied of any other thought until he cleared his throat. “Can you expand on that?” 

You looked up into his eyes before heat rushed to your ears. You looked back at your journal, focusing on that rather than his lush, pink lips. 

You told him more about how you reached this conclusion. That there was a standard for being Black that you never quite achieved. That at any moment, multiple mobs of people were coming for your Black card. Or, you were constantly trying to over-achieve at school. You had to work twice as hard, had to be the smartest in the class, because if you came home with a B, your mom went on a long rant about being stupid and never achieving anything real in life. Or how everyone praised you at work for going above and beyond and then got mad when you couldn’t sustain it. You were constantly on the lookout for someone else’s standard.

“I have so many fucking voices in my ear, telling me to do this or do that. And I fucking hate it. Which is wild considering that that’s what I seek in a sexual partner,” you said.

Dr. Richmond smiled and nodded. “Your mind is trying to re-contextualize your upbringing. Being submissive is actually about putting yourself in the position of power. A dom is only as good as how well he treats his sub. It’s about the ultimate act of trust on the submissive’s part,” he explained.

“Yes! And how can I trust that someone isn’t going to…take what I say or want and abuse that or make fun of me for it?” You asked. You played with the corner of your journal, not willing to look at Dr. Richmond. You didn’t need to see the pathetic pity in his steel blue eyes. 

“You have to stand resolute in what you want. You have to recognize that pleasure and sex is about give and take. Trust and acceptance. The right partner isn’t going to make fun of you, abuse you, or rush you,” he said. 

You sighed and leaned back on the brown sofa. You felt like you were chasing a unicorn. What kind of guy was willing to be dominant and care about your needs? Reassure you when you needed and took control when your body sent massive panicked waves at him? Took care of the trust you were placing in him to help you relax and cum? While also being physically attractive to you and have you be attracted to him; not a chubby chaser, not a creep, and not an abuser? 

It was impossible. Hopeless.  

“If you’re comfortable, tell me more about what you found,” he said.

You took your mind off of your dream mystery man. When the fuck was it going to be your turn? 

You scanned your journal once more, noting the sensations about actually living inside your body. “I think when I feel an orgasm approaching, I get scared. And that could be part of why I’m blocking it, but even when I’m alone, I don’t know what it feels like. Or…”

“Or…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

You grimaced. Fuck, this was so hard to put into words. Too hard to expose yourself like this. But did you want to reach your sixties, seventies, never having a true orgasm? Never finding your way to actual release? 

“Or, there’s no way to control the orgasm,” you said.

Dr. Richmond nodded. “The goal isn’t to control it, you know,” he said. 

“I know!” You groaned and stood up. You thought better on your feet. Or maybe when you had something to do, you were better able to regulate the jumble of emotions inside of you. No wonder your emotions were all over the place. You spent too long disassociating, too long in your mind and not enough in your body. 

“What benefit do you get from being in control all the time?” The scratch of his pen on the notebook drew your attention to him. To his pretty face, dark eyelashes, and push lips. You watched as he wrote in his notebook. Watched the lines and planes of his gorgeous face. His short curled afro. 

“If I’m in control, if I never look weak or stupid or incompetent, then I win. I win at life. And all my bullies, from school to home are all wrong. There’s nothing wrong with me because I know what to do. I know what to say. I’m not an alien,” you said, taking a deep breath at the revelation.

Whatever your insurance company was paying him, they needed to double it. You admitted things you never had in the past. Your previous therapists attacked your problem sex first, focusing on different methods you could try. Some wanted you to describe, in detail, whatever you did to get yourself off. Safe to say they weren’t practicing ever again. 

“Do you believe there’s something wrong with you?” He asked. He leaned back in his seat, giving you an unflinching stare. His face gave away nothing, revealed nothing, as you thought through his question. 

“All the fucking time. Why else do friends keep leaving me? Or guys don’t want me? Or my mom is…my mom,” you said. 

“Have you considered that you aren’t the problem?” He asked.

“How could I not be? I’m the only common denominator,” you said. You flopped back onto the couch but it wasn’t that soft. It thudded under your weight and you took a deep breath. Fuck, you wanted to cry. Tears pricked your eyes, turning them hot and itchy. You refused to cry in front of this man. 

This strange, quiet man who seemed to read you like one of the many books on his bookshelf. No wonder he had so many degrees. He could drag a full confession from a mute. 

“That may be true. But, bear with me, consider that you aren’t the problem. If you take yourself out of the equation, what are you left with?” He asked. He leaned forward on his desk and the sudden intensity of the question made your mind blank.

You had…nothing. No explanation, no back up. You were used to making yourself the problem. The issue had to be you. If it wasn’t you…

You shrugged your shoulders and looked away from him. The silence stretched on, so quiet you could hear the quiet tick of the clock on the wall. 

“Don’t shy away now, dig into it. If it’s not you, then…?” Dr. Richmond prompted. 

The question only seemed to make you clamp up. Your tongue swelled. Your throat constricted. If it wasn’t you, then what? Everyone was incapable of giving you what you wanted? Everyone just had an agenda against you? Please, that was narcissistic as hell. 

Dr. Richmond stood up from his desk and took off his glasses. He pulled out a drawer and retrieved a glass cleaner cloth. He cleaned his glasses and walked around the front of his desk.

“Consider, for a moment, that other people have deficiencies as well. That people congregate in groups because biologically, it’s safer. We seek groups to be in and when we can’t find one, we tend to think that we’re the problem. That we are outcasts, getting left out to defend ourselves. But all that means is that we haven’t found our group yet. You’re trying to fit a round peg into a square hole. You don’t belong with the squares, so no, you won’t fit in with them. 

“The same goes for sex. Everybody has their preferences. People have their kinks, their needs. When those needs aren’t meant, society teaches us to look at our own deficiencies rather than someone else’s. Perhaps the man you need sexually is far different from the men you take to bed,” he said. He waved around his glasses as he spoke, drawing attention to his massive hands. 

Seriously, they were huge. Like two lion paws that could strike down someone with one hit. He held his glasses by the frame, waving it around delicately as he spoke. You were still paying attention to his words, but fuck…he was unreal. 

“But how do I find the man that I need sexually?” You asked.

Terry

Terry inwardly groaned as you asked him that. Plenty of suggestions came to mind, each too crass to suggest. How could he tell you to go into another man’s arms? How could he send you to another man to unleash that hidden hellcat within you and he wouldn’t get to experience it? 

He needed to end this. End this before it even began. He placed his glasses back on his face and crossed a line that he never thought he would. “I think we have more work to do to adjust the way you think about sex before we get into how you attract what you’re seeking. In fact, I’d suggest you abstain from sex until we get deeper into this,” he said.

“Abstain?” You snorted and he fought a smile. Your face showed absolute disgust, like the mere thought was abhorrent. 

“Abstain. From what you’ve told me and what’s in your file, you jumped from overcoming your initial thoughts and reluctance about sex right to jumping into bed. Without really, truly exploring yourself first. Kids explore their bodies all the time right? They grow conscious of themselves and start thinking about hey, my equipment is different from someone else’s equipment,” he said.

You couldn’t help but giggle and it caused him to smirk in return. Yes, it was silly. Talking about sex was silly. But it was true. “And as you start to notice people that you’re attracted to, you start to grow conscious of hormones in your system. Brain chemistry. All the fun stuff that goes into attraction. You start to touch yourself more, explore your preferences through porn or books or experimentation.”

You cringed when he brought up experimentation. He tilted his head. “Did you go through an experimentation phase?” He asked.

You closed your eyes and sighed as if it were the last question you wanted to answer. You completely fascinated him. He had no idea what would come out of your mouth next. How you would respond to certain questions or ideas. 

He snuck a glance at the clock, he was nearing the end of the session. He flexed his jaw. This was so damn irritating. By the time you were willing to open up, it was time to end it. He wished he could carve out a month of sessions to get you to lower your defenses and let him inside. 

“No? I grew up in the wrong generation. All everyone thought about was sex and while I did too, no one was checking for the fat Black nerds unless it was a prank. And I saw everything as a prank. I was always getting pointed at, made fun of, stared at. Jesus, being exposed fucking sucks! So, no, I didn’t experiment. There was no one to fucking experiment with. 

“And it wasn’t like I could go ten feet from my mom without her up my ass about where I was going. Claiming she just didn’t want me to get snatched when all she really wanted was just to control me. To not let me end up like her. Young and pregnant,” you practically yelled, spewing way more vitriol than he expected.

He figured it was a sore spot for you by the way you grimaced, but he hadn’t been expecting…that. Again, he balled his fists thinking of every person that ever let you down. Every person that was supposed to uplift you, guide you, help you, all dropped the ball in teaching you about self love.

Every experience every kid was supposed to have was denied to you. Instead of being asked out with interest, with sincerity, boys treated it like a prank. He was wild in his youth, he wasn’t always nice to people, or he went through life like a little gremlin. But he liked to think he mellowed somewhat in high school. Treating everyone with respect. From the nerds to the jocks. He didn’t know what not trusting people’s words felt like. Like everything that someone said came laced with poisoned barbs ready to sting. 

“This is so fucking stupid,” you whispered. Your lip trembled but no tears fell down your face. 

Fuck, even now you were trying to hold everything in. Control a natural response to something painful. “When was the last time you cried?” Terry asked.

You stood up and snatched your purse and journal from the couch. “Session’s up, right?” You asked. You avoided looking at him as you rushed to the exit. The faux glass door clanged against the wall as you threw open the door and left, steps echoing on the linoleum flooring. 

He stared at the door as it lazily swung back and he wondered. And he pondered. 

Wheww, need more? The Secret Terry Richmond Files | Part 1

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[alvojake]

It'll be Alright | P.SH

「pairing」 : bf!sunghoon x fem!reader 「word count」 : 0.9k

「synopsis」 : just when the world seems to be crumbling around you, sunghoon comes to remind you that it'll all be alright.

「genre」 : fluff & comfort

「warnings」 : mentions of mental health issues, petnames (love, my love, princess, beautiful, pretty girl...), very fluffy, I believe that's about it

「notes」 : this is for my hazey love (@pockettwinzz) because I know she needs a little bit of comfort right about now. I love you bby and I hope you enjoy this small fic and find some comfort in it <3

You sat in the middle of your bed, tears building up on your waterline as you tried to distract yourself. Everything seemed to be against you tonight, your mind being the number one adversary. The little voices in the back of your mind tried their damnedest to make you believe that you weren't good enough.

The dark cloud fogged all of your other thoughts, no matter how much you tried to ignore it. Your hands trembled as you clutched the book in your lap, teardrops staining the pages. Blurring your vision made all of the words merge together until they were illegible.

"Dammit." you cursed quietly, dropping the book without a care to mark where you had left off. Hands moved up to try and clear some of the tears, but it was futile as more just replaced those you wiped away. Growing frustrated, a broken, defeated sob fell from your lips as you dropped your hands to your lap.

"y/n? Love?" his voice broke through the silence that filled your room, followed by a soft knock on your bedroom door.

You barely had a moment to react as he started to open the door, grabbing your blanket and throwing it over your head, hoping to hide your tears.

However, as soon as sunghoon looked into your dimly lit room and saw you huddled under that blanket, he knew something was wrong. Your small sniffles only further confirm his suspicions.

"What are you doing under there, princess?" he spoke softly, setting down the bag of snacks on your dresser before moving over to your bed. Holding your breath, you didn't make a sound as he sat down in front of you.

Sunghoon's eyes softened as he saw your shoulders trembling slightly as you tried to control your tears. Exhaling softly, he reached forward to grab the edge of the blanket, waiting to see if you'd show any sign of resistance. Once you didn't, he started to unfold the blanket until your teary eyes were revealed to him.

"Hey, beautiful." he smiled softly, his tone far too sweet for you to handle. More tears fell from your eyes as you unfolded your legs before moving forward to bury your face in his chest, sobs racking your body.

Sunghoon didn't say a word as he wrapped his arms around your body, pulling you into his lap. His heart broke listening to the sounds of your cries, but he knew it was better for you to let it all out instead of holding it in. so he let you cry.

Running his fingers through your hair soothingly while his other lay on the small of your back, fingers tracing small shapes on the exposed skin. He hummed softly, his body rocking yours softly until your sobs died down and you were just lying in his arms, small sniffles being the only sound you made.

Pulling away, you averted your gaze, far too embarrassed to meet his soft gaze. Fingers fiddling with his shirt, you opened your mouth, the start of an apology falling from your lips, but sunghoon was quick to silence you. he pressed his lips to your forehead, causing your breath to hitch, tears brimming in your eyes once more.

"Don't you dare apologize, my love." he pulled away, trying to get you to meet his eyes. After a few seconds, you finally lifted your head, allowing him to see your tear-stained face. He felt his heart jolt in pain, seeing how bloodshot your eyes were, the redness only making the color of your irises stand out more.

"Do you wanna talk about it?" he asked, hand still rubbing your back gently while his other pushed a strand of hair behind your ear.

Your lips curled inward as you thought about what was bugging you, but it felt too embarrassing to tell him. So you shook your head softly, eyes moving to break eye contact.

Sunghoon nodded, assuring you that it was okay to not talk about it. His thumb coming up to wipe the excess tears that were sitting under your eye.

"You look exhausted, my love; let's just sleep. We can worry about everything else tomorrow." he offered you a gentle smile as you met his gaze once more.

Nodding slightly, you clamber off of his lap and further up into the bed. Following after you, sunghoon grabbed the discarded book before setting it on the nightstand and crawling under the covers with you.

Laying down, he was quick to pull you back into his chest, not wanting to leave any space between your bodies. You wrapped your arms around his waist, burying your face in his chest once more. Sighing contently, he pressed a kiss to the crown of your head before laying his head down on his arm.

"I love you so much, princess, so so much," he whispered quietly, his hold tightening on your body, scared that you would slip from his fingers.

"I love you too, Hoon." Your voice was hoarse and quiet, but he heard it nonetheless, causing a small smile to spread on his lips.

sunghoon then closed his eyes, not caring to turn off the bedside lamp, allowing the warm light to illuminate the room. He hummed a tune that had been stuck in his head softly, and he eventually lulled you to sleep.

Sensing that you had fallen asleep, he lifted his head, taking in your peaceful face. Your eyelashes lay against your flushed cheeks softly, and your lips parted just enough to allow you to breathe softly. He couldn't help but smile fondly at the sight, moving just enough to tuck another strand of hair behind your ear. Leaning forward, he pressed another soft, loving kiss to your forehead, letting his lips linger for just a moment.

"It'll be okay, my pretty girl; everything will be okay," he mumbled against your skin before laying back down, joining you in deep slumber.

@alvojake | Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work

𝖉𝖎𝖘𝖈𝖑𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊𝖗 : ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ᴛʀᴜᴇ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇꜱᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴʏ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀꜱ. ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪꜱ ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ꜰɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴀɴᴅ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴇ ᴛᴀᴋᴇɴ ꜱᴇʀɪᴏᴜꜱʟʏ.

[ellecdc]

A Man With a Plan.4

prologue // p1 // p2 // p3 // p4 // p5 // p6 // p7 // p8

Remus Lupin x whimsical!reader - Hogwarts Era (no Voldemort) - Soulmate AU

CW: brief mention of a sexual encounter (non-explicit)

The following week-and-a-half was both chaotic and painful for (likely everyone involved, but specifically for) Remus Moony Remus (& Moony).

Remus (under the watchful glare of one Sirius Orion Black) apologized to James for speaking so rudely to him, and to Peter for upsetting the room.

Pete was quick to forgive him, whilst James just asked, “are you ready to talk about it?”. Remus replied no, James said “talk to me when you are”, and the two haven’t spoken much since. 

The closer and closer Remus got to the full moon, the more incessant Moony became. Even if you weren’t around, Moony was whining after you. When you were around, Moony was begging for you. 

Remus, much to Moony and Sirius’s (never mind his own) chagrin, would hear your soft lilting voice moving down the hall speaking to James, and would quickly grab Amelia and find the closest broom closet. 

After the 3rd or 4th time, he was starting to look like a horny pre-teen who just discovered playboy magazines.

But while Amelia was on her knees and his hand was on the back of her head, he could muffle the howling and yipping of the angry wolf for at least the moment, and it felt like enough.

Until it wasn’t.

“Stop, stop.” He groaned as he pulled away from Amelia’s wandering hands. She looked quite lovely – flushed, slightly damp and pupils blown wide, but Remus couldn’t appreciate much of anything with the chorus of ‘Need, need, need, need. Mine, mine, mine, mine’ inside his mind.

“What is it, baby?” She cooed at him. Remus had to fight back a grimace at the nickname.

“I ca-I can’t do this right now.” He said, bringing his hand to his mouth; he suddenly felt queasy.

“Are you sure? I can be a good girl for you.” She purred.

“No.” he said as he flung the door to the broom closet and nearly collided with you.

Dammit, how were you everywhere!?

“Oh, hello Remus! Are you alright?” You asked him.

Mine. 

Remus could only let out a keening sound in response – hand still pressed to his mouth.

Your eyes seemed to flit around his being – not actually looking at him but around him as your mouth pinched in concern.

“No, not alright at all.” You answered your own question, speaking more to yourself than anything. 

“Rem?” Amelia said as she rubbed his back and spotted you in front of him.

“Oh, L/N,” Amelia said with a chuckle. Remus felt his hackles rise immediately. “Your aura looks wonderful today.” 

Her voice was filled with contempt, but your eyes never left Remus’ form. 

“Here,” you said to Remus as you began to dig through your book bag. You missed the ‘tosser’ that Amelia threw your way, but Remus didn’t.

Moony wanted her dead.

“This should help, Remus. It’s mallowsweet, shrivlefig juice, powdered moonstone, and rosewater. I think it’s just what you need.”

Your voice was so soft and sweet, and Moony was so quiet while you spoke. Remus almost wanted to tell you to forget the vial you were offering as he felt his migraine lifting just from listening to you talk.

Remus might as well have been a puppet as he raised his hand to take the vial from you – he didn’t even know what this concoction was for, but if you kept looking at him like that? He’d drink forty of them.

You dropped the vial into his palm, keeping your fingers to yourself as if you were somehow aware he was afraid to touch you.

“I hope you feel better, Remus.” You breathed softly, parting from him with a gentle smile as you floated back down the hallway.

“Gods, she is such an airhead.”

Remus suddenly understood James a little bit better.

“Amelia,” he started as he turned to stare daggers at the girl, “don’t make fun of my friends.”

And he stalked off down the hall, opposite the way you’d just went.

It was Thursday evening, and there were only two more nights until the full. Remus sat at the table with his head in his hands as he tried to swallow against his gag reflex.

Amelia Bones was staring daggers at him from the Hufflepuff table, but it was you, speaking so sweetly to James across from him, that had his heart beating like a hummingbird in his chest.

Mine, pack! Pack! Pack! Mine, pack. 

Remus mentally grabbed The Wolf by the scruff, causing a pitiful whine and quiet whimpering to follow. He was too tired and too close to the full for this.

James was speaking animatedly to you about the niffler’s from class today, but Remus Moony could tell your mind was elsewhere.

“One moment, Jamie.” You said quietly to your friend as you began to walk away. Suddenly, you were standing behind Moony Remus.

“Excuse me, Peter. Would you mind terribly if I sat here?” You asked sweetly, pointing to the sliver of bench between the two of them. Sirius’ eyes flew to meet Remus’ from his spot across from him.

“Oh! Uhm, no, Y/N, not at all.” Peter agreed as he moved to create a space for you beside Remus.

As if it were the most natural thing in the world, you were suddenly sat between Remus and Peter, directly across from James who was placed beside Sirius. 

Remus felt his shoulders sag in immediate relief to have you so close to him. Horrifyingly, he felt tears spring to his eyes. He tucked his chin into his chest, knowing Sirius’ gaze hadn’t left him.

You pushed your ankle up against Remus’ as you continued discussing the pilfering little creatures from your class with James as the first tear fell. 

He wanted to be angry. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

He wanted to resent you. But he couldn’t bring himself to.

Because you were kind and sweet and understanding and patient. And he was the monster.

And somehow, you knew all of that. And yet, you sat here, beside him, and offered him what little comfort you could.

Remus was fucked.

You were at the quidditch game Friday evening. Gryffindor was playing Slytherin, so you appeared to be present only to cheer on James.

It was sweet.

Remus was fucked.

Amelia came too, which pissed Remus off seeing as Hufflepuff wasn’t playing either, but it gave him the chance to not sit there staring at the space beside you wishing he was selfish enough to take it.

Her company wasn’t as nice as yours, but Remus supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.

The weather kind of sucked – it wasn’t raining but the air was thick with fog and mist, and visibility was low. Remus wasn’t sure how the players managed between the mist, the wind on their brooms, and their sweat, but the game raged on.

“Wait, so the little braids that you find on horses randomly...” Peter asked you from a few bleachers below Remus.

Remus kept his eyes on the players he could make out through the fog and pretended he wasn’t listening to your conversation.

“Yes, those are nargles. They appear at night and twist the hairs of horses or unicorns to create stirrups and leads so that they can ride them. It’s important you don’t undo them, though, as nargles may become frustrated that they have to redo their work. They are also more likely to return to ride your horse again instead of outright taking them for their own if you respect their work. Tricky little thieves, they are.”

“Huh.” Pete offered brightly. Remus smiled widely to himself. “Well, I suppose they also look pretty in the horse’s hair. Might as well leave ‘em.”

Remus felt a warmth radiating in his chest. He couldn’t see either of you as he kept his gaze on the game, but he could clearly picture your kind and airy smile, and how Peter had his body turned to you to ensure you had his full intention.

Moony loved it too.

Pack. Good. Good. Good. PaCk GooD. 

Remus began to think maybe he could handle this. Maybe he could keep you here, sort of at arm’s length but still within his reach. Maybe he could accept you as a friend and...pack member if that’s what Moony insisted on calling you.

Maybe this didn’t need to be all or nothing, maybe this could just be...

But Remus’ train of thought stopped as Moony began raging within his mind. Remus started to panic, thinking maybe he miscalculated the next full moon; he’s not been wrong about a moon once in his entire life, but fuck, stranger things have happened.

He looked to the sky, and even through the fog, Remus could tell the moon was nowhere near risen. He was also very sure the full moon was tomorrow night.

“Look out!” A player shouted from the pitch as Remus spotted a very large ball careening its way over...straight for you.

Mine. Mine. Mine MINE MINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINEMINE.

Remus’ mind went blank as he stood from his place. Suddenly, he was standing in front of you as the ball hit him in the middle of his back. He grunted in mild discomfort, but it was far less damage than what could have been had it made contact with your face.

Your face, which was looking up at Remus with your mouth parted in gentle surprise, and your eyes searching his person.

“Remus! Are you alright, mate?” Peter cried in shock.

The whistle sounded on the pitch as players flew their way over to the Gryffindor benches to retrieve the ball. 

“Yeah, Pete, I’m fine. Doesn’t hurt that bad.” He offered, though his eyes never left yours.

“Moony, what the fuck was that?!” Sirius called from his broom.

“What was what? Aren’t you players supposed to aim the ball at each other?” He snarked back.

“Mate,” Pete whispered to him, “you apparated.”

He...he apparated!?

Hogwarts had ancient magical wards lining the school grounds and castles. One such ancient ward was an anti-apparition ward. No one should be able to apparate in or out.

Ignoring all of that, however...7th years still hadn’t been taught how to apparate yet.

Well...Remus didn’t know what to say about that. So instead, he asked “are you alright?”

You looked between him and his right shoulder for a moment before nodding. “Yes, Remus. Thank you. I’m very sorry about all of this.”

But before he could say - oh, that’s okay, or that’s not necessary, or even what the hell are you apologizing for? - you were out of your seat and leaving the stands.

“What did you say to her?” James barked at Remus from his broom beside Sirius, glare turning stormy.

“Nothing mate,” Sirius answered for him, “he just asked if she was alright.”

“Was she?” James asked, eyes softening slightly.

“Yeah, she’s okay.” Remus answered.

James seemed to analyze Remus’ face before offering him a curt nod and flying back to the centre of the pitch. 

“McGonagall’s going to be so pissed if you broke those wards, mate.” Peter muttered as the game resumed.

Sure, Remus thought, let’s focus on that. 

McGonagall was kind of pissed about the wards, but she told Remus it was but a minor tear within the grid and may be repairable. 

Seeing as the burst of accidental magic was...well...accidental (and lunar in nature, though he figured it was best they all ignored that little fact for the time being), he was off the hook for the damage.

He was the victim of relentless torment, however.

“Lord Rem, are you reading ahead to make the rest of us look bad?” Lily smirked from her place in the Gryffindor common room. 

Remus groaned into his book as he pulled it to the face.

“It was an accident.” He muttered miserably.

“Sure. Just watch your back, Lupin; I’m still top of the class.” She fired at him with a smirk.

The common room continued thinning out until it was only Lily and James playing wizards chess, Sirius and Peter playing exploding snap, and Remus trying to read his book as his muscles and joints swelled and groaned under the pull of the moon. Tomorrow night, and then he’d be free for the rest of the cycle.

Well, not free, seeing as now he was also plagued by you.

Suddenly, the group of five could hear the portrait of the Fat Lady screeching at someone in the hall.

“I will do no such thing; I am not a secretary” the muffled voice spat.

Sirius and Remus shared a confused look before the former stood and made his way to the portrait hole. 

“Reggie?” Sirius asked quietly as the portrait swung open to reveal the form of his younger brother.

“Uhm, hi, Sirius. I... I was wondering if Potter was here?”

Sirius’ head reared back slightly as he blinked over at James.

“Uhm...yes? He is.” 

Regulus sighed. “May I speak to him?”

Sirius slowly moved aside and gestured for Regulus to come in.

“Hello Regulus.” James said politely, looking bemusedly at Sirius for a brief moment before standing.

“Potter. My apologies for the...intrusion. But I’m wondering if you’ve seen Y/N.”

Remus’ book fell into his lap as he sat straight in his chair, hands gripping the arm rests. Remus had heard from Sirius (who heard from James) that you and Regulus were quite close. This at least explained why Remus’ friends and yours had never intertwined before.

“No, no. Not since the game, why?”

Regulus sighed again as he grimaced. “She’s not in her dorms. One of her dormmates asked me where she went – apparently, she told them it was important for her to be ‘away from the castle’ for the weekend. I was hoping you knew where she went.”

Remus ran up to the Marauder’s dorm room and accio’d the Marauder’s Map. He scanned the parchment and, sure enough, you were nowhere to be found. He double, triple and quadruple checked to no avail. 

You were nowhere to be found on castle grounds.

Continue to chapter five here.

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[temporarywelcome]

Babysitting - Spencer Reid

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: JJ forgot about Girls' Night and needs a babysitter, Spencer offering up himself and his girlfriend for the task.

Warnings: swearing, girls's generation (oh no!). not even a warning but autistic!reid bc every reid is autistic!reid.

A/N: this can be 100% read stand alone but is technically part of my "Smooth Criminal" series.

____________

JJ was in a predicament. 

She was seated on the jet, on her way to an important case with the rest of the BAU, when Garcia reminded her of a salsa class the two of them and Prentiss signed up for, their activity for lady’s night.

“Dammit,” she sighed, head resting on her hand tiredly, “I forgot to get a sitter for Henry,”

“JJ, girl, I love you, but you better get that sitter, those classes are expensive,” Garcia said in disapproval. 

“Who? It’s tomorrow!” she exclaimed, feeling a lot of pressure on her, “How am I supposed to get a sitter in that amount of time?”

Spencer, who was speedily reading a book, looked up, “I can watch Henry,” 

“Uh, no,” JJ shook her head, “No offense, Spence, but have you ever taken care of a child before?”

He shrugged, “No, but I can read a few parenting books before we land? He is my godson, after all.”

“That sounds good enough to me,” Prentiss said eagerly.

“That’s because you’re not Henry’s mother,” JJ deadpanned.

“Would you have picked him as Henry’s godfather if you didn’t even trust him with the job?” asked Garcia. 

“Well, no,”

“Then let me do it!” Spencer said excitedly. What harm could it be?

“He could even ask Y/N to help him,” Morgan suggested from where he sat, eavesdropping on the conversation, “Double team,”

“Absolutely not,” JJ looked appalled at the idea, “Why the hell would I let a diagnosed kleptomaniac into my home?”

Now, Y/N had won over a few members of the BAU despite her past. From the beginning, Garcia was fine with Y/N (she was the one who blew up her backstory anyway), and soon Morgan and Prentiss came to accept her as Spencer’s girlfriend. Even Hotch didn’t mind her, due to her helping on a few cases, using her criminal record to their advantage.

JJ, on the other hand, was still quite iffy on her. Rossi was a whole other level, which seemed quite hypocritical, considering his own background.

So no, JJ did not want Y/N in her house.

“I can always pat her down before we go,” Spencer stated, like it were normal, “Make sure she doesn’t have anything in her pockets or bags,”

“How comforting,” JJ grumbled.

“JJ,” Garcia huffed, “Salsa class,”

A sigh left her, feeling a headache forming, “If she steals anything…”

“She won’t. Promise,” Spencer said, grinning.

________

“What the fuck, babe?” Y/N grumbled, placing down her Chinese takeout, “Babysitting?”

Spencer fiddled with the plastic fork that came with his food, cheeks going red, “It’ll be fun,” He already knew she was upset by how she called him babe and not baby. There’s a difference.

“I don’t even like kids,”

“Henry’s different! He’s a good kid!” he huffed, poking at his noodles. 

“He’s a kid, I don’t like them,” 

He pouted, placing down his food, “I like kids…” 

She groaned. This is going to be a difficult conversation in the future. “Can’t you ask someone else to help you?”

“I don’t want anyone else to help me,” he shot back. “Please?”

Y/N didn’t even know why she was trying to argue with him. She was already wrapped around his finger, he could ask anything of her and she would surely see it through. Just one look with those puppy dog eyes and she would fold. 

And there it was. He glanced at her bottom lip jutted out, brows furrowed adorably.

“Oh, fuck you,” she grumbled, planting a hand over her eyes, “No. I won’t do it.”

Spencer smiled, placing his food on the coffee table before scooting closer to her. He rested his chin on her shoulder, “Y/N,”

“Hell no,” 

“Y/N,” he kissed her neck lightly, nipping at the skin.

“I’m leaving the state,”

He rolled his eyes, planting a few more kisses along her neck, “Dramatic. No wonder you did theatre,” 

“I’ll leave right now,” she threatened.

Spencer’s smile grew, cute dimples showing, but Y/N couldn’t see with her eyes still covered. Spencer took her hand in his own and lowered it, other hand tapping the side of her chin expectantly. With a sigh, she turned to face him. All he did was give her that little smile.

She bit her lip, trying to contain herself, but the ghost of a smile graced her lips as she pecked his nose and sighed again dramatically, “Fine,”

_________

“Hey, Harry, I’m Y/N!”

JJ frowned, grabbing her purse, “Henry,” 

Y/N’s cheeks flushed and she awkwardly cleared her throat, scratching the back of her neck, “Ah. Henry.” she corrected, giving him a fake smile, “How ya doin’?”

Henry gave her a look for about half a second, before ignoring her and running to Spencer, “Uncle Spencer!” he giggled, stumbling over on his toddler legs. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Spencer kneeled down to Henry’s height to give him a hug, “What’s the plan for today, hm?”

“DORA!!!” 

Y/N jumped, a scowl immediately forming on her face. She noticed JJ giving her a look and she dropped the cranky face. 

“He’s quite… loud.” JJ said, looking at the imaginary watch on her wrist, “Well, gotta get going. Have fun. Don’t steal my valuables. Bye bye,” she ran off out the door. 

Once she was gone, Henry turned to Y/N and Spencer again. “DORAAAAA!”

“What the fuck,” Y/N grumbled, causing Spencer to elbow her in the ribs.

“No swearing in front of children,” he scolded. 

“FUCKKKK!” Henry shouted, scampering off to the living room. 

Y/N’s jaw dropped and she refused to meet Spencer’s glare. “Oops,” 

“We just got here,” Spencer sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

Henry yelled some more and Y/N groaned, “Baby, how the hell are we going to do this? I give you like three hours before you get overstimulated and then I have two monsters to deal with,” Spencer wasn’t a monster at all when he was overstimulated, he typically just gets a bit freaked out and needs to be alone in silence for a few hours. No, he wasn’t a monster, Y/N was just dramatic. 

“You’re not helpful at all,” he took a seat on the couch, wincing at Henry yelled some more, tackling him. 

“Holy fuck,” Y/N muttered to herself, but Henry perked up. The little gremlin smiled, cupping Spencer’s cheeks and yelling out a beautiful “FUCK!”.

Within twenty minutes, Spencer looked ready to explode. Henry had been all over him, yelling and being an absolute terror. Y/N was quite glad the kid left her alone, keeping her own distance. However, she noticed Spencer’s trembling hands and shot up.

“Alright, come here, Gremlin,” she scooped up Henry, who shrieked, giggling innocently. “Your Uncle Spencer needs a break.” she placed him down outside of the living area, “How about you show me your room?” she suggested. 

Henry processed what she said for a moment before smiling brightly and nodding, “Room!” he grasped her hand, leading her off to his room. Y/N looked over her shoulder, giggling to herself watching Spencer fall into a laying position on the couch like a domino. Poor baby.

Walking with Henry down the hallway, Y/N noticed different pictures on the walls. Her impulses told her to grab them and stuff as many as she could in her bag, but she had left the bag in the living room. 

She joked about it a lot, but being a klepto really sucked. 

Once in Henry’s room, she gulped, seeing all the small things she could scoop up and shove in her pockets. “Wow! Look at this!” Y/N said, trying to be as enthusiastically as possible. The room was dinosaur themed, and Henry made sure she knew it.

“Dinosaur!” he shouted.

“Alright, buddy, look,” Y/N sat down on the bed, patting the spot next to him. He sat next to her. “Uncle Spencer isn’t very good with loud noises,” she explained, “Especially after a long period of time. Being touched too much makes him uncomfortable too. It’s important to respect other people’s boundaries, okay?”

Henry blinked, confused. “What…”

Y/N sighed, “Leave Uncle Spencer alone,”

Maybe she should have worded it nicer.

Henry immediately burst into tears, “WHY!?”

“Shit,” Y/N’s eyes widened, “Hey, shh, it’s okay-”

“SHIT,” Henry repeated.

“No, no, no, don’t say that!” she said in panic, “Please stop crying! It’s okay! Look!” she grabbed a dinosaur toy from the floor, “Look! Raaah! Raah!”

“SHIT,” Henry shouted again. 

Well shit. 

“Oh no! The dinosaur’s gonna get me! Oh nooooo!” she made a whole show of getting eaten by the dinosaur toy. Henry was not amused. “Please stop crying before Spencer comes in here and banishes us to the Phantom Zone or something,” 

Henry continued to cry, and in a panic, Y/N shot up, beginning to do what she did best. 

Well, stealing is what she did best. 

So she did the second thing she did best. She danced. 

Henry continued to cry as she did her rendition of “Into the New World” by Girls’ Generation. After the first few moves, he stopped crying, looking at her with complete confusion in his innocent eyes. 

She let out a breath of release. He finally shut up.

After calming down Henry, she made her way back to the living room with him. “We’re turning this off,” she said, disinterested in Dora. She went to a music channel before dropping the remote, “Ah, much better.” 

Henry went straight to doing funky little dances while Y/N sat with Spencer. She already knew something was off. 

“Alright, what’s going?” she sighed, holding out her arms. 

He didn’t move. 

“Spencer,”

He huffed in response. Ah, Cranky Spencer™. 

Y/N sighed, “Scootch” she laid next to him, arms going around his waist, his back to her chest as he refused to look at her. “Too much goin’ on?” 

“I don’t think I’ll ever be a father,” 

Oh. Fuck. 

“Look, I know I’ve shown my disdain towards, uh, young humans, but you never know in the future. I might change my view on them. You might-” she babbled.

“I don’t think I’ll be good at it.”

Oh! Fuck. 

Y/N paused, processing his words, “Why? Henry loves ya,”

Spencer sighed softly, hand slowly setting atop hers, “I can’t even handle one for an hour,” 

“Ah,” she muttered, kissing the back of his neck lightly, “I mean, that’s what I’d be for, right? We would be a team. You need a break from the little Gremlin, I calm ‘em down,” 

“You’re not always going to be there though. We’ll both have to be alone with the child periodically.” he said quietly. He didn’t know where to look, so his eyes went to the TV, watching Britney Spears. Why did it feel like Britney was judging him? 

“I work at night anyway,” she shrugged, “When I’d be gone, it would be asleep anyway. If you’re out on a case, a sitter would do just fine with a sleeping kid,” 

“You don’t even like kids… I can’t imagine putting the responsibility on you.” 

“Hm,” she mused, petting his hair, “You’re right. I really don’t like kids. But things change. Who knows?” she sighed, “I guess this is a conversation we’re going to have soon, huh?”

“We probably should have had that conversation before we made it official,”

“Yeah,” Y/N agreed. “Probably… Too late now,” she didn't want to think about that awful-sounding conversation so she sat up, “Now up and at ‘em before you fall asleep and your contacts get all dried out,” 

__________

When JJ finally stumbled in home, it was a good two a.m. 

She had expected to come in to Y/N and Spencer sharing a glass of wine quietly on the couch, Henry tucked away asleep in his room. 

Instead, she was greeted with emptiness.

“Huh?” she slurred out drunkenly, shutting the door behind her, “Spencer! Y/N! Henry…?”

The door to her and Will’s room swung open, Henry strutting out in a ridiculous outfit, Y/N in tow. 

“Mama!” he exclaimed, running towards her, “Guess what?!” he pointed at Y/N, “She’s Jessica.”

“Let me guess,” JJ deadpanned, “Jessica from Girls’ Generation?” Pretty much everyone knew Y/N’s adoration towards Jessica Jung at this point, much to Spencer's embarrassment. 

“Hell yeah,” Y/N confirmed, “Spencer! C’mere,”

The door opened again, and Spencer shuffled out of the room in an equally ridiculous outfit. “Hi,” he said dryly, eyes on the ground. 

“Say it, baby,” Y/N told him. 

He grumbled, looking back at JJ in annoyance, already cranky enough, “Gee gee gee gee baby baby,” 

“Mama, I’m a dancer now,” Henry said proudly. 

“A natural,” Y/N confirmed, “A dramatic one too. You might have a theatre kid in your hands. Best of luck,” 

JJ sighed, watching Henry trip over the makeshift robe (she thought it was a robe) and hit the ground. “Thank you for telling me, Y/N,”

__________

I don't even listen to GG but I WILL insert them into every fic now.

Also inbox is open :)

[peachsukii]

Burn Out

『♡』  pro-hero fem!reader  x pro-hero bakugo ╰➤ ꒰ pro-hero au | engaged | aged to 23 | bakugo POV! ꒱ -`✧ katsuki bakugo masterlist 

summary: Japan’s #4 Hero, Dynamight, is holding (forced by his agency) a meet and greet with fans - for the fifth time this year - by popular demand. The only difference? It’s three hours longer than the previous four. tags & warnings: fluff, soft bakugo, pro-hero bakugo, reader has a quirk & is also a pro hero, reader & bakugo are engaged! a/n: i thought the idea of reader waiting in line every time he has a meet and greet was such a cute gesture and relaxes him when he’s overwhelmed by fans :) ꒰ Ao3 version | word count; 1,300 ꒱

“I really gotta do this shit for 4 hours?!”

“Sorry, Dynamight. It’s standard hours for meet and greets, plus you get the exposure to retain popularity amongst the public.”

God, what a fuckin’ joke.

How the hell does Deku do this all the time? I’m not a people person, end of story. I’ll sign shit and let them sell it, but actually meeting people? My goddamn nightmare. Especially the damn fan girls, they’re rabid fuckin’ animals. I hate when people only see me a piece of goddamn meat and not a top rated hero.

“Why are you still here?” This agency lady is really pissin’ me off. What the hell else does she want from me?

“Just going over the logistics. You’ll be hosting at a store in Shibuya Crossing from 1PM to 5PM tomorrow. You’ll be doing signatures on pre-approved official photos. We’ll meet at the agency at noon and you’ll get suited up.”

I hate these stupid publicity pricks.

“Can’t I just sign ‘em and you sell ‘em? I really gotta do it in person?”

“No can do, you know the process by now. The hours are just extended to allow as many fans access as we can.”

Why the fuck do fans need “access” to me? They don’t. I’ve got better shit to do.

“Whatever. See ya tomorrow.”

───

It’s almost 1PM and I’m already fuckin’ over being here. Nonstop “do this, not that,” “don’t take too long,” “don’t accept large gifts,” blah blah blah. It’s a damn signing, not a conference, I shouldn’t need to follow some stupid rule book.

“Before settling in for a grueling four goddamn hours, I gotta call my fiancé.”

“Make it fast, you’re set to start in 15.”

Was it an excuse to talk to her? Hell yeah it was. I didn’t need to call her for shit, I needed to get the hell away from that agency lady before I said shit I can’t take back.

Really wish she could sit here with me instead of with the agent with stick up her ass.

───

[y/n] Hey babe, what’s up? I thought your meet and greet was happening now? [Bakugo] Yeah, in 15 minutes. I needed to step out before I sit here for four fuckin’ hours. What are you up to? Sounds like you’re outside or somethin’. [y/n] Nothing really, grocery shopping and boring stuff. Are you nervous? [Bakugo] Me, nervous? Fuck no. I just don’t wanna be here for that long. It’s exhausting. [y/n] I don’t blame you, the last few were much shorter. Do you need me to bring you anything? [Bakugo] Even if you did, I don’t think they’d let me take it from ya. [y/n] That’s so annoying. It’s not like I’m a stranger. [Bakugo] Y’would think so. Fu-dammit, sorry baby, but I gotta cut ya short. This agency bitch has been breathin’ down my neck all week. [y/n] It’s alright. Make sure those fan girls don’t take all of you, I still want my share of the number 4 hero! [Bakugo] Hah, y’know you’re the only one who gets that. I’ll talk to you later baby, love you. [y/n] Love you too, good luck!

───

I. Am. So. Fucking. Tired.

If I hear another person screech over me just looking at them? I’m gonna lose my damn mind - and it’s only 2:30PM.

“Dynamight! You’re my favorite hero, thank you for signing this!”

At least most of the kids that showed up weren’t loud and annoyin’ brats.

“Thanks, appreciate th’ support.”

I’ve signed my name so many damn times that it’s starting to look like gibberish. They wouldn’t even let me use a stamp or some shit like that. Y’think that would appeal to their “access” plan if more people could come and go if it meant signing this shit faster.

───

3:45PM.

Fifteen. More. Minutes.

Exhausted is a goddamn understatement. I don’t wanna talk to anyone for the next 24 hours when this is over.

I’m grabbing the next poster from the agent, tunnel visioned on gettin’ the fuck outta here, when a familiar voice catches my attention.

“Hiya Dynamight!”

I can’t help but laugh. Did she really stand in line this whole time?

“The hell you doin’ here?”

She’s dressed head to toe in my merch - sweatshirt from the winter line, joggers from the athletic set, even her damn shoes are the limited release sneakers from the crossover line with Deku.

“Just supporting my favorite hero. I’d love if you could personalize my poster.”

God, I love this woman.

“Hah, y’got it.”

To my favorite hero, y/h/n, my shining star - love, dynamight

I slide it over the table to her and the look on her face is priceless. Her smile never fails to brighten my day, no matter how shitty it is. Really feels like no one else is here but her in the moment.

“This’ll be worth at least $50 online. Thanks!”

“Hey! That’s special, idiot.”

“I’m kidding, Ka-Dynamight.”

“Did ya wait in line this whole time?”

“I did! I wasn’t shopping earlier, I was in line for you. I wanted to support my soon-to-be husband.”

The high school girl behind her makes a face when she says “husband.” It’s not like our engagement is a damn secret. Can’t help but shoot her a dirty look, hoping she gets the “fuck off” memo.

“Dynamight, 5 minutes until we wrap.”

“Back off! It’s my damn fiancé. I’ll take as long as I want.”

All I wanna do is jump over this table, throw her over my shoulder and blast our way home. Dive onto the couch, crammed together against the cushions and pass the fuck out to the sound of TV static.

“It’s okay, I’ll let you go.”

She leans over the table to whisper, “I’ll see you at home, baby. Love you!”

I don’t really care who hears. I shouldn’t have to fuckin’ whisper to my soon-to-be wife in public.

“Love you too. Thanks, sweets. You’re the best.”

Fuck, her ass looks damn good in those joggers. I’ll never get tired of watching her walk away. The way she sways her hips when she walks is dangerous game for me.

“Alright, Dynamight. Last one.”

Thank fucking god.

“Hey, thanks for-”

“Was that your fiancé?”

These damn high school girls are such a pain in the ass.

“…yes. What of it?”

“Isn’t she, like, number 42 or something super low ranked?”

Not fallin’ for whatever shit she’s trying to pull. I sign the poster and slide it over to her, hoping she shuts the hell up and leaves.

“What, I can’t get a personalized photo like her?”

Well, she asked for it.

“Fine, give it back.”

number 42 and still better than you. fuck you - dynamight

I shove the poster back to her roughly on purpose, crinkling the edge against her stupid long claws-for-nails that were tapping impatiently on the table.

“Play stupid games, win stupid prizes. Learn some damn manners.”

I don't feel any remorse as the stupid agent starts scolding me for "mistreating fans." The brat had it comin', what can I say?

"I'm outta here. Later."

"Wait, Dynamight, you need to -"

"No, I don't. Not my problem. I'm done."

───

Finally, home sweet home. "Hey baby, I'm home."

"Hey Kats! Made you some early dinner on the stove and the blanket is nice and toasty for you."

When did she even have time to do that? It's only been 45 minutes.

"Damn, what are ya, superwoman?"

"Hah, I wish. Have you checked your phone yet?"

"...No, why?"

She laughs. "#dynamight is trending again. Somethin' about you signing 'fuck off' on a fan's poster?"

Oops.

"Yeah, well I -"

"Fuck her, she's lucky I didn't smack her upside the head."

And that's why I'm marrying her.

Just a cute little "Bakugo hates people" fluff lol

[octoberautumnbox]

Yasss, time has come for more Yuri fics, looking forward to a Yuri ult stan :>

Thing with Yuri is, you can never know what to expect next. One moment she's a fluffy puppy cuddling with you then the next she's got you in her grip edging you all day. Just a crazy switch brat. Though that's why I fell hard for her

Enjoy

IZ*ONE/Soloist Jo Yuri & Male Reader

Word count: 2882

Categories/warnings: smut, alcohol, implied violence & blood, very slight dubcon, blowjob, handjob, breast play, cowgirl, kiss-and-fuck, only a little bit rough, okay maybe a tiny bit more rough. 

a/n: got way too into the setup im so sorry ill put a marker down there for the actual smut. also big thank you to @iznsfw for the pic ive been looking for this forever. lastly not proofread nor beta’d bc i still haven’t reached out to anyone seriously for writing tips and stuff yet aaaa

Everyone said Yuri was a good person: all sweet-looking, nice to everyone, takes a joke just as well as the next girl. Wouldn't hurt a fly even if she wanted to. There was something about her though; you couldn't place exactly what, but you were convinced nobody was that naturally sweet. Something was up with her.

It's a good thing then that she wasn't anyone particularly important. Jo Yuri was just another person that you'd never needed to talk to in the six months since class began. It was easy enough to ignore her, and ignore her you did. 

"You've been cooped up for way too long. Come on, 8 pm. Round of drinks on me if you show. Leave right after if you want. I swear. Just enjoy yourself." Your friend loomed over the table, blocking the light from your copy of 1984. Putting your palm on the top of his head, you closed your grip around a handful of his hair and pulled his head to where your book was sufficiently illuminated. "I'll think about it," you mutter before looking back to the yellowing paper. "Ryujin will be there too." Your friend occupied the seat next to you, rubbing his head where you grabbed. "And her friends. Isa, Minjeong, that cutie from ours you hate so fucking much," he says with a smirk, as if it was the checkmate that would make you drop everything and go. "Didn't take her to be into that type of thing," you say without looking up, "Ryujin, sure, but – what's her name? Yuri? – Feels like she just couldn't say no." He shrugs. "Maybe. What matters in the end is she'll be there, she's single, and she's got a hell of a rack." "Fucking perv. Anyway, I'll think about it." He smirks at you again. "Not because of Yuri, god dammit."

~~~

You shut your laptop and stretch. You rub your eyes for a good minute before wiping away the fatigue to find your clock striking 7. You stare at it, as if intimidating it to go faster and faster to past 8 pm so you wouldn't have to go. Defeatedly, and with regret already seeping into your mind, you get up from your chair and grab a towel. 

~~~

“Hey, long time no fucking see!” Ryujin swings her arm around your shoulders and spills half her drink onto the floor. “Hey, Ryu. Glad to see you're already half-shitfaced this early into the night.” “Fuck you. By the way, meet Isa,” she says as she drags you towards one of the booths. “We've met. Hi, Isa.” She waves and downs a shot of gin. “Who convinced you to come all the way out here?” Isa slams the shot glass onto the wooden table, nearly cracking it and probably denting the wood. “Ah, also shitfaced. I was just free, that's all. Nice to see you again.” She waves again before burying her face in her hands. You drop Ryujin onto an open space in the seats before heading for the bar.

“There he is! Fuck you, man. Stay a little!” Your friend turns around and yells, “Round of drinks on me!” The bar roars with cheers as you take a seat on one of the stools. “Glad you could make it, dude! It’s been forever! Hey, enjoy yourself. See any chicks you like? Maybe enjoy someone else too?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you obnoxiously. Thinking he’d be distracted within the next five seconds, you mutter to the bartender an order of a bottle of beer. Just then, you watch as your friend is approached by another guy, talked to a little, and then dragged off in a semi-drunk daze away to some other group. 

“Three margaritas, please.” You turn around to the stool on the other side of you. “Oh, you’re in my class, right? I don’t think I’ve introduced myself. I’m Yuri,” she says with the cutest smile you’ve ever seen. The bartender places her three drinks on the counter and pops the cap off your own before setting it in front of you as well. “Right, I like your top,” gesturing to a little chain by the neckline. “Do you need help carrying those, by any chance? Or are all three of them for you?” She chuckles shyly. “Would you mind giving me a hand bringing these over to the booth with Isa and Ryujin over there?” 

~~~

Your phone reads 11:00 pm. Ryujin’s face is practically glued to the table, and Isa continues mumbling into her palms about her teddy bears wondering why she hasn’t come home yet. Your friend is sitting next to and has his arm around Ryujin, and you can guess where his free hand is. Knowing you’ve drunk a few yourself, you get up and walk cautiously yet in no straight line towards the toilets. After doing your business, you wash your hands and leave. On the way out of the bathroom, you set your mind to wake up Ryujin and offer to see her and Isa home. 

As you make your way back to the booth, you find a pair of guys huddled by a corner. You see between them a familiar figure. In your daze you fight to recall why it’s something you can recall, and then it hits you. The glint of the chain on her neckline catches your eye and you walk over to them, for the second time regret seeping into your mind before anything even happens. You’re way too drunk, you think to yourself. Whatever happens next is a bad idea, but you steel your resolve that it has to happen.

“Oh, Oppa!” She turns both guys’ attention to you, and they start throwing you dirty looks. “Hey, come on. Everyone’s drunk, we’d better go.” You make for her wrist, but one of the guys pushes you back. You notice the other guy has his hand on her shoulder, keeping her against the wall. “Why don’t you look after your friends, and we’ll look after her?” “Don’t make me do this,” you quip as you take a step forward again. After hearing them chuckle, the alcohol takes over you, your vision flashes, and finally fades to red. The last thing you remember is swinging high and kicking low.

~~~

You slowly come to, raising your head from the headrest. A stinging pain and a cold touch on the corner of your mouth greet you as your vision stabilizes from quadruple, to triple, and to double, before settling your focus on a bottle of antiseptic solution on the coffee table in front of you. Immediately, you shut your eyes as tight as they can go, deciding wherever you are is too bright, and deciding that the pain on your temple and across your forehead has something to do with how hard you’re shutting your eyes. 

“You didn’t have to do that. I was just about to leave.” You hear pieces of ice clink against each other as the cold touch moves to your forehead. “Hi, Yuri. They didn't do much worse to you did they?” “No,” she says in a relieved tone, “you saved me. It was a lot to take in honestly, but they’re worse off than you are. Thank you.” The cold spot again moves to the corner of your mouth. 

You struggle your eyes open and find her right up in your face, inspecting what you think is a wound by your eyebrow. She notices you staring at her and she backs off quickly. “Sorry… That one looked pretty bad.” “Thanks for looking after me. Where are we?” You try to sit up, only to be forced back down by a number of painful spots all over your back and torso. “You fought them, they fought back,” she pushes you down firmly onto the sofa and brings the ice bag back onto your face, “you won. We got back to the booth, and you made me call a taxi. You carried Isa-unnie and Ryujin into the taxi,” she hands you a glass of water, which you begin sipping, “and I got the other oppa. We dropped off Isa-unnie, then your friend. You wouldn’t tell me where to drop you off,” she takes the empty glass, “so I had no choice but to bring you here. Ryujin is upstairs in her room.” 

You sit up more comfortably. “Thanks, Yuri. I owe you one.” You check the time, and find it’s 2:00 am. “Sorry for intruding so late. I should go–” “You’re…” she interrupts. “You're in no condition to go home alone. Spend the night. Please?” She looks at you with a pair of puppy dog eyes and flashes a heart with her hands to you. “I… Thank you.” You lay back onto the sofa, the fatigue you didn’t know you had overwhelming you into oblivion.

~~~

(smut starts here)

You open your eyes slowly, taking advantage of the darkness.The first thing you notice are the closed pink curtains, and next is the fluffy scent of baby powder and fresh shampoo. You continue trying to get your bearings, and an immense wave of pleasure shoots up your spine. You look down and see Yuri licking your dick up and down, savoring each stroke of her tongue and letting her spit cover every inch. 

You place a hand on her nape, and she looks up at you. “Oh, good morning. Am I doing this right, Oppa?” She takes another long drag of her tongue from the base to your tip, causing you to moan lightly. “I’w thake that ash a yesh,” she mumbles as she places the head of your cock onto her tongue. “Yuri, what are you…” She takes half your length into her mouth and hollows out her cheeks to suck you off. She releases your dick with a pop, “I feel like I haven’t thanked you enough for last night. Call it even?” She smiles as innocently as can be, and then takes your cock into her mouth again. “Please tell me if you feel uncomfortable, I’ll stop if you want…” “Keep going, baby.” She blushes at the sudden use of her pet name, but returns to her work of thanking you much more profusely than you ever imagined. 

As she continues sucking you off, you snake your hand towards her nightgown and onto her left breast. You ease back into the bed and fondle her through the smooth fabric, earning her own little moans vibrating through her throat and onto your shaft. She lets go of your cock once again, and pulls the straps of her gown off her shoulders. She pulls the smooth dress down, exposing a cute and perky pair of breasts. “Please ogle me a lot, Oppa…” She grabs your shaft again with one hand and makes long and slow strokes up and down your entire length. With her other hand, she takes yours and places it onto her left breast. “Just enjoy… Just enjoy me.” 

“Jack me off faster, baby,” you command her, and she moans slightly at the name again. She goes faster and her grip grows just a bit tighter. She maintains eye contact with you as best as she can despite you pinching her hardening pink nipples, drawing her to close her eyes and let her head lull back. You motion for her to use her mouth again and she obeys immediately, bending over to your dick and granting you easier reach to fondle her other breast. You pay special attention to how she likes her nipples played with, tracing circles along her areolas before taking her nubs between your index finger and thumb to squeeze and tug. In return, she grows a bit more careless with her blowjob, letting her mouth leak more and more saliva, as well as taking in more and more of your length before finally hitting the back of her throat. You accidentally tug on her boobs a bit harder, causing her to moan onto the tip of your dick. You start feeling guilty when she starts sliding your cock out of her mouth, but as you get ready to apologize she lifts up the bottom hem of her nightgown, showing you her clean shaven pussy. She gathers her whole gown into one bunch by her waist before pulling it over her head to leave herself completely naked for you. 

“Please tell me you like me, Oppa…” She pleads slowly and carefully, while bringing your hands to her chest once again. You relish on the warmth and softness of her breasts that you only realize she’s already straddled you and has started stroking your cock again. “Tell me… I want to hear you say it, please.” “You’re so,” she gives you one rapid stroke, “fucking,” she moans as you fondle her more roughly, “hot,” she forces herself to look straight into your eyes again, “Jo Yuri.” She speeds up her handjob, finding it harder and harder to maintain her eye contact in favor of shutting her eyes and letting the pleasure overtake her. “I’m close.” She strokes you rapidly, noticing how your legs are starting to shake, her gaze growing more intense, her squeezing you tighter, your moans getting louder, your grip on her boobs getting rougher and rougher and rougher, until–

She lets go just as you’re about to cum, “Oppa… did you cum?” “Not yet, baby, why’d you stop?” You groan disappointedly at her. “I’m sorry… It’s just… you have to enjoy me more.” She brings her soaked pussy above your cock and rubs the tip all over her lower lips, smearing your precum and her slick together on her hot cunt. You groan again, and she gets the message. Bit by bit, she sinks herself down onto your dick, relishing in the sensation of a huge and girthy cock filling her up. You accidentally squeeze her soft tits too hard again, and with an apologetic harsh tug on both her nipples downward, she abruptly slams herself down onto your waist, taking in your cock to the hilt. You feel every inch of your dick being squeezed by her pussy and soaked with her love juices, and at the end of it you feel your tip prod against what must be her cervix. 

“Never got my toy this deep into me before. Do you like it, Oppa? Does my slutty little fuckhole make you feel good?” She grins evilly at you as she leans forward for a kiss. You barely process her amazingly naughty words before she starts riding you, lifting herself up until only your tip remains in her, before slamming herself down again, taking your entire length into herself. You relish how her cunt clenches around you so lovingly, how tight she is that there’s no way this doesn’t hurt her, how loud she moans while you feel your cock quickly entering and exiting her pussy. 

She plants her elbows on either side of your head and cradles your face right in front of her bouncing chest. You take her right nipple into your mouth and she moans all the more loudly, rides you all the more violently. Your right hand grabs her left breast, fondling it the way that drives her crazy, and your last free hand gripping her ass as a hold to guide her up and down your cock. “Yuri,” you mumble with her nipple between your teeth, “I’m close again…” She rides you harder and you find it more difficult holding it in. You pray she lets you cum this time, calling upon a God you once knew, but also you pray that she lets you pull out first. Or not. As long as you cum. 

You begin sucking more harshly, and she responds by riding you faster; she grinds on your dick and drags your cock over every inch of her warm, wet walls. Her moans grow louder, more desperate, aching for her own release as well. Your grip on her ass tightens too, so much so that her cheeks spill out between your fingers as you pull her closer and pump into her as deep as you humanly can. 

You must’ve hit every last one of her good spots. A scream tears through her throat as she lifts herself off of you. Her cum sprays all over your waist, your cock, her bedsheets, and she even has the indecency to rub her clit all throughout, causing more and more of her cum to spray everywhere. You watch her through her climax, admiring the way her thighs jiggle with every jerk of her hips, the way her nipples stand erect on top of her bouncing boobs, the way her face contorts with an ungodly amount of pleasure she’s never experienced in her life. She falls forward, pressing her still-leaking cunt on your dick, and her breasts onto your chest as she heaves deep breaths through what should be a now-bruised throat. In a raspy yet sweet voice, she asks, “Was it good, Oppa? Did you like the feeling of pounding your horny pleasure girl’s tight little cunt?” She snuggles into your neck and plants little kisses along your jawline. “I haven’t cum yet, baby…” you admit quietly and out of breath. “Oh? That’s fine, Oppa. It just means you can enjoy me more.”

a/n: whoa that was way longer than I ever thought I could write at this point. all of that just this afternoon and only in response to the ask lol. this wasnt in my WIPs tbh and it was just a random BFH that accidentally took me... five hours to write? again im glad how it turned out thanks for reading all this youre awesome

[autistic-shaiapouf]

Okay. So.

Workshopping a name still but she fits so nicely into the overall high school sphere going on here 😭 she's socially pretty awkward and struggling with identity issues and as a result really looks up to lemon bc she's like "wow she knows exactly who she is and what she wants and she doesn't let anyone push her around". In trying to actually find identity she's just going along with whatever trends come her way and she tries to adapt to them, painting herself as vapid and airheaded when she's actually going directly into a biochem field, which lemon doesn't know until they have a class together and mindflayer girlie patiently walks her through a problem, giving her a completely aced past test as a study guide, and as soon as lemon asks why she pretends she's not insanely brilliant, the insecurities start to come out

She's got substandard materials that make up her body and as a result has learned both basic and advanced repairs on herself, patching her casing and reattaching limbs and the like, completely on her own. She's a little dizzy from lacking enough blood in her body but has managed to find substitutes that work almost as well. She's got a mind for hands on work and exceptionally understands putting ideas into practice. She's a number cruncher, going for precision in her personal endeavors, able to tell lemon when her ideas with fire won't work or will explode outright (and whether or not it'll at least be a cool explosion).

She genuinely thinks lemon is the coolest girl on earth and everyone thinks she's a little lame for having a crush on the local pyromaniac. She blurts out one day that she wants to be girlfriends with her and lemon doesn't even bat an eye before going "oh sure" without actually thinking about the ramifications of what she just agreed to. She doesn't read romance into anything they do, and the mindflayer isn't too certain it's what she even wants, they're in a qpp sort of situation and lemon basically helps her come out of her shell a bit by doing exactly what she does for mirage - standing up for her and asserting her worth. I also image she's able to instantly hit it off with mirage by referencing a philosopher that mirage was certain no one else would ever have read and they go back and forth for a bit on it, mindflayer is nervous about being too opinionated but means well and it's sort of endearing

Ideas funny to me specifically: a second machine OC but this one has all my specific health problems

Thinking a mindflayer just bc of the idea of like. She put together her own body with what she had and it was a little subpar, she's got parts that just fall off, her casing tends to easily dent, she's consistently just slightly low on fuel but she manages

[peggingdemons]

Thinking about you

Basically Satan jerking off thinking about reader

Satan x Gn Reader

Satan's fantasy is is the same font I'm using right here so to (hopefully) not confuse people

Warnings! Satan thinking about reader (duh) , petplay and one use of a "good girl" on Satan (in his dream)

Satan couldn't help it he was only a man after all.. But the way you talked to him yesterday, teasingly calling him a "good kitty" after seeing him run after a book you threw...

Fuck just thinking about it makes his pants feel tighter..

Those words just purred out of your lips, the little smirk you had and the way you just looked at him like he was just a little house kitty.. He felt hot, needy and excited just thinking about that.

Being your kitty

Just yours and no one else's

Fuck his pants were getting tighter... He needed you..

Satan couldn't help himself as he brought his pants and boxers, watching his cock spring out and hit his stomach

Those words you said just set him ablaze. Satan slowly teased his tip trying to get pre to use as lube before he started slowly stroking himself.

Those words.. Your words.. Calling him a "good kitty".. What if you did it again? What if you petted him while saying how good he was?

Satan let out a small breathless moan just thinking about it

What if you told him to act like cat? Crawling on all fours for you.. Collaring him.. Allowing him to please you-

Satan started speeding up his hand, whimpering out at the idea

"You're a good kitty.. Right, Satan?"

"I know you are~.. So crawl.. Crawl over here and please master~"

"Uh huh.. S-s'ho good for you..." Satan whined out loud. Dreaming about you owning him, all yours, your kitty made more pre leak out from his tip

You grabbed his hand bringing it to your sex "be a good cat and please me" Satan nodded "Y-yes.." "yes what?" "yes... M-master". He started rubbing on your area letting little moans come out of you

"That's it.. Good kitty... Good girl.. That's it.."

As soon as the dream you came Satan shot his lode all over his hand

"Ah.. Ah.. Dammit.." Satan groaned , now he had to clean this up... At least the idea was nice.. Maybe he could get you to actually make him a kitten for you

[taylormarieee]

Stalker Thomas Webb

Summary: Your the new girl and you've just moved into this apartment in New York to get away from your parents and it seems you have a cute stalker...

Word Count: 1.5k

Pairings: Thomas Webb x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Thomas being a stalker, confrontation, suggestive throughout the entire fic, reader being a tease, Thomas being a needy boy, Thomas playing dumb/ hard to get, Mimi being jealous, almost smut...tehehe maybe part 2?

You were so happy to finally be free of the toxic relationships in your life. Your mom, your dad, and even your ex boyfriend. You were free, finally free.

You loved reading and writing and you felt as though you could achieve your passion, your goal to be a writer here in New York. Your mom never accepted it, a small town girl could never possibly make it big.

But you wanted to prove her wrong. You wanted your name in the paper and to be in interviews and to finally show them at you did mean something, that you had talent, that you actually had what it takes to be successful.

Yea, you were a small town girl but you were going to show them that small town girls can make it big! You finally got an apartment. Your apartment number was 2c. You were so happy.

You even made a friend. His name was Thomas. He lived in the Apartment two doors down from you. He was like you.

College dropouts, suckers for writing, lovers for books, you guys were destined to be friends.

But Thomas wanted something more. Even if he did just meet you 2 days ago, he wanted to feel every inch of your body on his body. He wanted you so close that your souls were touching.

He craved you, needed you. So whenever you went out, he went out as well. Constantly stalking and seeing what you were up too. But what Thomas didn't notice was that he wasn't exactly being sneaky or discreet about his stalking.

You constantly saw him and at first you just thought you guys were in the same place coincidently but then you started noticing him everywhere. Places he usually wouldn't be.

You found it quite cute because you wanted to be more than just friends with Thomas too! Yea, you guys have known each other for like 2 weeks now but he was incredibly attractive and you just wanted to suck the life out of him.

Prune him of every last drop of cum he has in his body. Make his dick twitch with overstimulation and anticipation. You wanted it badly but when was the right time?

Eventually when his stalking decided to get more frequent, you decided to confront him. You hid behind a wall waiting for him to turn the corner. When he did you jumped out with a "Boo!" and he stumbled back.

You began to laugh and his face got red. "Hey Thomas... why you stalking me, hmm?" you asked in the sweetest voice.

He's blushing heavily now, 'dammit you knew, he's screwed'.

"W-What do you mean y/n? I wasn't f-following you." He falters and you find it kinda cute. You smile at him and get closer to him. "Oh really? You've been following me for 2 and a half weeks now baby... why deny it? I'm not mad...I find it adorable actually."

He gulps and you can physically hear his heart beating. You get closer to him and your eyes rake up and down his body. A smirk creeps it's way onto his face as he questions, "Your not mad?" He asks.

You shake your head 'no' and he smiles even wider. "that's good. Was planning on doing it a lil longer." He says.

"Why stalk me when were neighbors. If you wanna fuck me just ask." You respond. His eyes grow wide at your statement. 'You caught him' he thought.

That's exactly what he wanted. For some reason he couldn't verbalize it with you. He wanted to make sure you weren't seeing anyone and now that his fear has been denied, he can have you all to himeself.

"What makes you think I wanna fuck you? Hmm?" He asks with a smirk on his face and it only grows wider when yours falters. You look around and shuffle nervously but then as you opened your mouth to say something, some girl turned the corner.

"Thomas, what's going on here?" She asks. She's short but maye the same height as you. Short black hair and melanin skin that glowed in the sunlight.

"Oh hey Mimi." He says breaking his eye contact away from you to face her. 'So this was mimi... the girl that couldn't get her fucking feelings straight,' you thought. She was pretty but Thomas deserved better in your opinion.

"Who are you? and Thomas what the hell!? You were supposed to meet me today at the cafe. I saw you walk by but you didn't come in so I decided to follow you." she says looking between you and Thomas.

"This is my new friend," he says introducing you by your name. "I'm hanging out with her. I totally forgot about the cafe today, my bad." He says.

You scoot a little closer to Thomas to let a woman pass by she mutters out an 'Excuse me' and you smile and gladly move out her way. You grab Thomas' hand to make sure that the lady didn't have to say it again.

Mimi's line of eyesight drops down and you notice your still holding Thomas's hand. You let go of his hand and smile at him. "Me and Nick broke up. Wanted to tell you that today..." She says looking everywhere but Me and Thomas.

"Did you?" He says looking dead at her. She looks up and makes eye contact with him. "Your supposed to be more excited than that. I broke up with him because I got into Croatia and I want you to come with me!" she says as we stand there.

You can tell she's fuming. It's like right out of a forbidden love story except there usually standing in the rain. Shes mad at you. feels as if you are taking Thomas away from her when he was her's first.

But she can't be mad when she blew it, she is the cause to this whole situation. Thomas wanted her. Badly, and she blew it.

"I have a confession to make." Thomas says. You are looking at Mimi but realize he's not looking at her. He's looking at you.

"I love you. I've loved you since the first time I saw you walk into your apartment. Since the first time we made eye contact I knew. I knew I needed to be with you. So I followed you. Everywhere. More than 2 and a half weeks. I followed you to find out what you liked and what your routine was." He confesses. Your heart swells and you smile.

"I know I seem weird and out of place and I probably sound like a complete creep but, I really do love you. I'm so in love with you that it hurts." He finishes his confession with a sigh and your smile only gets wider.

"I love you too Thomas. I've loved you since I first saw you grabing your mail and talking to that nice old man in 2b. I'm in love with you too Thomas Webb. So much I might cry cuz I felt like I couldn't have you because of her." You say motioning to mimi.

Mimi drops her head as she realizes she's too late. She confessed to Thomas and he found someone else. He really was a good man, guess it was just the right person at the wrong time.

You hug Thomas not wanting to kiss him in front of Mimi to make her feel bad. She says goodbye to Thomas before getting a cab.

He feels bad now but if she’s leaving she most likely won’t come back. He grabs your hand and you both start running towards your apartment as it did start to rain.

When you both got inside the apartment complex, you both laughed as you were both drenched due to the rain.

"I need you... god I've waited so long." Thomas confesses. Your eyes twinkle and you smile.

But you realize that this is all happening a little to fast. As much as you wanted to give into the throbbing between your legs, you needed a tiny bit of time to think.

Before you could answer he kisses you and pushes you against the door. Your hands find purchase on his chest. his muscles and abs being see through because of his wet shirt.

You kiss him back eagerly as you taste cherry on his lips. You break the kiss and suck on that sweet spot on his neck and jaw. Marking him as yours.

He moans in your ear as he lifts you up to straddle his waist. You lock lips with him again before realizing what you were going to say to him.

"T-Thomas baby, wait... wait a second." You say out of breath. He hums and looks at you. "W-What? what's wrong?"

"This is going a little too fast hmm? Lemme just think about this cause mimi is still plaguing my mind and I feel bad. I want you so badly but let's freshen up and come over later tonight yea... to finish what we started ok?" You say with a little smirk on your face.

You kiss him one more time before adjusting his glasses and kissing his nose. He smiles and slaps your ass before he makes his way to the door.

"Your lucky I love you... I'll wait just a little longer for you." He says before smiling and closing the door. You giggle to yourself and make your way to your bedroom.

Oh how you longed to see him again... feel him just one more time...

Taglist: @emmaafinchh @dustbunniess @willyoubemycherryy

[runa-falls]

love bite pt. 2

pairing: jake lockely x reader

warnings: explicit (18+), smut, biting, marking, cockwarming, pain kink, creampie

a/n: second part to the love bite drabble i did with steven :3 - i like to imagine jake looking like santiago so that's why the gif is there 🫠

w/c: 1030 (it looks like the number is kissing you 🤭)

masterlist

---

“Baby, what the fuck!"

A slap against the side of your thigh forces you to dislodge your canines from his shoulder. You groan, thighs squeezing around his waist in response to the residual sting that fizzes under your skin.

Your lips press over his warm skin as you lean against him, "Hm?" 

"What -- Why did you bite me?!"

Dammit, it happened again. That urge that pushes you to the edge, to have your boyfriend right where you want him. The need to feel him in your mouth and taste his essence. The biological response that itches in the back of your mind telling you to bite him.

Jake has had you on his lap for an hour now, making you warm his cock while he reads on the couch. It’s his favorite way to unwind during the evening and he caught you just before you were heading to bed. Perfect timing since he loves it when you’re all sleepy and pliable for him.

It took you 15 minutes to get used to the stretch, and 15 more to stop fidgeting on top of him. The rest of the time you've been lulled to a dull haze of consciousness, eyelids heavy with pleasurable exhaustion.

Your eyes were locked on his soft tan skin as you rested your head on his shoulder. Distracting yourself with the splatter of freckles that dot constellations over his shoulder and down his back as you try to hold yourself back from grinding against him. You got lost, mind hazy with delirious lust, and didn't even realize you bit him until he started to scold you. 

Bleary thoughts streamed through your mind, thoughts of needing to taste the salty sweetness of his skin, to feel his muscles tense under your teeth, to feel him twitch inside of you from surprise and growl as he loses composure. The irresistible urge to see the hidden pain kink that he'll never admit to.

You act dumb, “Did I?” Your voice is hoarse and vacant as you slowly wake back up. 

His hand harshly grips your waist and pushes you down on his lap, shoving his cock impossibly further inside of you. You gasp at the feeling, trying to sit up to alleviate the intense feeling that flushes through your center. Jake won’t let you move. 

“You did.” He tosses his book to the side, chuckling as you whine against his hold. You can feel the beginning of an orgasm thrumming through your body, you’re at the cusp of ecstasy,  but without any movement, you’re getting nowhere. “See this?” 

Your eyes struggle to focus on his shoulder, but even through tear-glazed eyes, you can see it. The bite mark, echoed with pinks and purples, luring you to have another taste with its pretty ridges and blooming hues. 

You can feel your wet heat drip around his cock as you blearily stare at your work, cunt clenching eagerly around him as you hold yourself back from taking another bite. He hums at the feeling, hands clutching your skin to hold back from fucking back into you. 

“You don’t seem very apologetic, cariño.”

“Oh – I’m sorry baby, I didn’t mean it…”

He raises a brow, “Don’t lie to me.” His fingers gently drift over the side of your torso, brushing goosebumps over your ribs before cupping your tit. He drinks in your sighs as he squeezes it.

“I-I didn’t mean to do it.”

“That’s right, but you did it anyway.” He laves his tongue over your nipple, making sure your eyes are locked with his as he nips and pulls at the bud. Your back arches with pleasure, shoving your tits closer to his face. Your hands bury themselves in his curls, holding his head close as he begins to move up from your chest to your neck.

“Bad girl.” He whispers against the tacky skin of your neck, nice and slow, letting the low rumble of his voice absorb into your skin. 

He sinks his teeth into the lower side of your throat, biting down until he hears you cry out. You pull at the ends of his hair as spikes of pain flow down your body, slowly pulsing through every nerve before blurring into unshakable bliss.

“Jake–!”

You flutter around him with a moan, legs trembling as you’re filled with pure euphoria. He groans and lets your throat go, grip tightening against you when he feels you fall apart on him. You’re cumming without even moving an inch. White fills your vision as your eyes roll back, it’s too much, so much more than you can imagine, but you still need more. 

You don’t even realize that you’re leaning back into Jake until you feel the soft give of his shoulder against your teeth. You’re doing it again, but this time he doesn’t mind. This time, his hips snap against yours, unintentionally thrusting up into your dripping cunt as you latch onto him.

You hold onto him as he ruts into you, feeling your high intensify as he fucks you through it. His thrusts are sloppy and needy, filling the room with filthy, wet sounds, and it only consumes him further. He grunts when he reaches his end, head tilted back as he’s flooded with saccharin pleasure. 

You run your tongue over his shoulder as he recovers, soothing the sore blemishes soaked in sweet lust and sweat. Then you lean back to meet his lazy gaze, lustful energy continuing to thrum around the two of you. 

Dark lashes frame his curious eyes as they lock onto the fresh bruise he bit into your skin. His stare drags downwards, taking in the love he has left on your skin. Your throat, waist, and thighs are painted in blotchy patches of color, beautifully curated by his hands and teeth. You can feel him pulse inside of you at the sight. 

“When did you become a biter?” 

“Just now…”

He grins, shaking his head. 

“Don’t think Marc and I haven’t noticed the bruises after your nights with Steven. He’s a sensitive boy, you gotta be gentle.” 

“He likes it!”

“I’m sure he does.”

You pout, “When did you become a biter?”

“Always have been…”

[voidpacifist]

I have a new brainworm about steve harrington that I need (NEED!!) to share

imagine this for me: it's 1983. nothing eventful happens, at least in the supernatural sense. steve and nancy still date, he still drops his terrible friends when he realizes they're not gonna support him if it doesn't fit their agenda, he still accidentally becomes close to a bunch of seventh graders when nance asks him if he can babysit--

(not that he'd ever say no to her, but it's not what he envisioned the summer of '84 to be like, okay?)

--and overall, things are relatively normal for him. his parents continue to be absent, but they still get excited for him when they learn he has a girlfriend or won a new award at the end of the school year for something sporty or what have you. they're not bad people, they just don't know how to be good parents. and they're always, always away.

but the thing about 1983, is that his final interaction with tommy before he "broke up" their friendship by dating someone kind and sweet and "perfect" like nancy, was him getting absolutely wailed on. enough that he went to the hospital with a severe concussion and some damage to his optic nerve. the doctors told him he already has something going on with his vision to begin with, probably a genetic disease passed down from one of his folks, that increase his chances of going blind earlier in life. meaning, if push came to shove, his vision could go entirely if he got into any more scruples with ex-friends or people who just generally disliked him.

and then lucas sinclair asks him for dating advice, because he likes max mayfield, the new girl in his class, and ultimately it lands steve being the chauffeur for their first date just days after halloween in 1984. by now, he and nancy have broken up — they weren't emotionally available in the ways they needed to be with one another, and steve knows his dream of the future is different from her own. this time, there's no speech about bullshit or faking it. they simply both know that their expiration is upon them and call it quits.

(it still hurts, but he told lucas to shoot his shot, because if there's anything he's learned by dating nancy wheeler, it's that projecting his heartbreak and hurt onto others is a gateway to toxicity in the water; and by god he is not sabotaging this kids emotional maturity, okay? okay)

so he takes the kids to bennys burgers, because lucas insists it's "cool enough" for this girl, and he doesn't want to overdo it by going somewhere too fancy. but when steve returns to pick them up, there's a hiccup in the plan.

billy, maxs step-brother and steve's most recent bother at school, is there, gearing up to try and scare lucas off, or do something worse. steve, anointed babysitter and generally protective friend, steps in without hesitation. the fight that results makes the local news. steve lands in the hospital again.

his vision doesn't go completely, but it goes enough. enough that he can't drive, enough that he'll have to find large print books or simply relearn to read altogether in braille. enough that he's advised to get a cane or a guide dog. enough that, when all is said and done, his old life has been completely upended.

jonathan--

(the same jonathan who has now swept nancy off her feet the way steve used to)

--surprisingly, is the one who ends up getting close to steve after this. he tells steve about what it was like when will was found after being missing for a week, about how he knows it isn't the same, but that he relates to the feeling of oh god, everythings different and nothing I used to have is coming back. he doesn't divulge on the details, but steve knows he's serious about understanding the feeling.

even more surprising is nancy, who commands him every day that god dammit steve, your life is not coming back unless you take it back yourself and then reassures him in the same breath that he's not weak for needing help doing so.

and then the kids join in too. and steve harrington isnt a king anymore of anything, but he's the king of his own life, he's the king of himself. he starts going back to school even when he feels embarrassed to be there, like he's an imposter or ill equipped. he starts going to public places just to meet poorly concealed whispers with something friendly and witty in return. he starts taking his power back in a way that never needs to hurt anyone, that never needs to hurt himself.

he also discovers he loves bright colors — neons and pinks and reds especially. he takes a trip with nancy and barb one day to indy on some sort of girls trip (they've long since made up since the first house party, and barb latches onto steve as a best friend shockingly fast in the wake of his and tommy's split), and it's there that he meets someone punk for the first time. he develops a fixation on the colored hair, the leather and spikes and denim with safety pins in it. he badgers the girls about teaching him how to wear eyeliner.

it's his gateway into punk style, which is then a further path into the subculture itself, into colored laces and battle vests and the politics and social aspects. steve takes to it like a fish to water.

the name steve harrington used to mean something entirely different. even though he calls his parents every day since the incident, even though they've been back to see him multiple times, even though they've tried to be present in their strange, semi-absent way, they still haven't seen him since his transformation from local jock to local punk.

needless to say, he spends a lot more time educating them about his "waywardness" and a lot less time actually excitedly telling them about the next color of his hair. but the harringtons aren't unaware — they can see how while this may be a creative way for steve to begin expressing and discovering himself, it's also an armor. no one really wants to fuck with someone who will trip you with his cane if you're being an asshole, someone who wears a lot of spikes and other sharp objects on their body for fun.

so they let it be. and they stay a little longer, this time.

this shift doesn't go unnoticed by the local gossips, but it also doesn't go unnoticed by the "freaks and geeks" at school. he develops, quite by accident, a reputation that rivals that of the king of freaks at hawkins. eddie munson wears the title proudly, clings to it with every antic and every quip that feeds into the rumors about him. but he respects what it took for steve to get here.

so he invites him along to a hellfire session. which turns into two. which turns into steve becoming a party member, which turns into him excitedly telling the kids he babysits that he gets it now, that yes, they can absolutely host their games at his house as long as they have rides back home.

but as he and eddie get closer as friends, eddie notices that as well as steve has done accepting himself as he is, he still misses the things he used to do without thinking much about needing sight to do it. contact sports and movies and other very visually inclined things. and listen, eddie's happy that steve has renounced the toxic social scene of jockdom, he really is, but he also recognizes a guy who misses pieces of his old life.

(he finds himself missing his old life, the life before wayne, all the time, just for the parts that didn't hurt him)

so eddie, much to steves surprise, suggests he try joining the swim team for the final quarter of his senior year. and hey, fuck it, what can it hurt? he's already a nerd now as well as a punk as well as disabled — he can go for one more oddball, not-quite-jock occupation. the coach has several stipulations, all of which steve takes in stride.

he's granted a tryout. he doesn't make it on.

eddie, in his wildest nightmares, doesn't touch sports. he's already athletic in other regards, naturally good at sprinting and lifting heavy things from taking equipment to and from band practice. he doesn't think he actually needs sports, but he's willing to go with steve to lake jordan to keep practicing. he's seen how stubborn harrington is, and he's not about to stop it.

eventually, they do these laps across the lake and back (it's a pretty small lake) just to get high once they're done. and fuck, if steve can swim the length of the lake, he can get a job at the new starcourt mall. and he does. he's there at scoops ahoy the bare minimum of hours they're required to give him to technically say he's employed, but at least he has work. his friends visit him there after their own jobs are done for the day, and eddie consistently shows up just to bug him.

robin, his coworker, is impressed and startled by this version of steve. she'd say she doesn't trust it, but there's nothing to trust really, about the shock of bright green hair or the way his eyes aren't actually that focused looking, or about the way he casually tells stories about getting high and swimming the length of lake jordan. not to mention, the chemistry he can't physically or metaphorically see between him and eddie is laughable to her, and entirely too obvious.

she ends up with one bad trip from the wrong dealer, and steve stays with her through the comedown, and she realizes she would probably die for him, because he sits there and listens to her buzzed ramble about tammy thompson and his bagel crumbs and other dumb shit from when he was still in high school. he's the first person she's ever come out to, and she's the first person he's ever thought could be a soulmate, the kind he'd never give his body but would marry in a heartbeat if she asked him.

he tells her about billy. she tells him about her mother. they tell each other a lot of secrets, more than he's ever told jonathan and nancy, or barb, or even eddie.

and then their workplace gets set on fire from a gas leak after hours. they pack up and go to family video, because they're a package deal. it's barb being on the crew that convinces keith to let steve take the job, and he has a new shtick joking about being a blind guy who likes movies.

then eddie probably takes him to one or two or maybe five. then they maybe make out after one of their swims. then steve starts going to eddies shows at the hideout, starts going with him damn near everywhere, and this was the kind of companionship he needed from the get go but didn't have. the kind where they support each other's interests without changing themselves for it, the kind where there is love born from fierce and unwavering friendship, the kind where loyalty is unquestionable but agreeing all the time is optional. and god.

steve harrington has been blind for a year. and he wears metal in his face and color in his hair. and he and his friends gather for movies just for the enjoyment of it. and he swims the lakes of hawkins with his boyfriend. and he plays dungeons and dragons with the kids who haven't let go of him just yet. and his parents aren't who he needs them to be yet, but they're trying. everyones trying. and eveyrone is enough.

and he's enough, at the end of the day.

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 79)

Uzi was sitting on the couch, burying her face in an aeronautical engineering book for the umpteenth time. Sketching out ideas for heat shielding on a notepad, Tera on her lap, inquisitivly watching her mother draw and holding onto her bat plushie.

If she was being honest with herself (which, of course she wasn't) she would admit that it was somewhat difficult now for Tera to sit on her lap like she used to, her baby bump was now fairly obvious, she could still… somewhat, hide it underneath her hoodie, but even then if someone was paying close enough attention they would notice that something was different.

And it was of course at this moment, V crashed into her apartment. The door whipping open suddenly and startling both girls out of their shells. Tera chirped loudly and Uzi very nearly cursed.

“Back, took pictures.” V said bluntly, making Uzi take a deep breath to surpress the urge to beat her over the head with whatever she had in her hand. (A notebook, it wouldn't hurt, but still.)

“Okay. A. Thank you.” Uzi hummed, before her face fell “B. Bite me! You didn't have to scare the crap out of me!” She grumbled, standing up and resting Tera on her shoulder. V smirked, before her eyelights shifted down to Uzi's midsection.

“Huh. You can actually tell now.” She commented, which immediately made Uzi feel self conscious, she wouldn't lie and say that the visible change to her body wasn't off-putting.

“It hasn't been that long since you saw me.” Uzi pouted, turning slightly away from her ‘freind’. V clicked her tongue.

“How are you holding up?” V asked, ignoring her statement and tone much, much softer.

“Fine. Still don't know why you care so much.” Uzi replied, and V looked at the floor for a moment before Uzi got several pictures sent to her over short range, she filed them in a folder titled ‘MYSFLESH:/’

“’Fine’ isn't an answer.” V pointed out, crossing her arms, her attitude was normal grating on Uzi's nerves, but with everything else she had to stress about, it was genuinely beginning to piss her off.

“It's the only one you're getting. Now if you're finished doing everything in your power to make my day harder. I need to look over these pictures.” Uzi turned away, from the door, a sure way to tell V to fuck off, but unfortunately that did not happen.

“You're carrying, N can't be here all the time. It's… It's my responsibility to fill in when he's not here.” Uzi tensed up at V's words, hitting her like a sack of bricks.

“Your responsibility?” Uzi parroted back at her, whipping around to glare into V's visor. “Why is it your responsibility?”

V, for once, looked genuinely nervous about what she was about to say, her tail pressed flat against the floor.

“I don't-” She growled at herself, as if she was fighting her own programing. “It just is! I don't know how to explain it!” She finished, exasperated and throwing her clawed hands forward, showing more emotion then Uzi had ever seen.

“It's unbearable!” Her tail suddenly sprang up, kinking in several places before it went back into its default position. “I don't wanna be here either, but it's so much worse when I'm not!” She yelped, like a dam that had just cracked.

Uzi stepped back, alarmed at the sudden outburst. V began to pace back and forth.

“I-I think the worst part is that I don't entirely hate it! I want to! But you're not actually terrible, you're stubborn as hell and get on my nerves-” V grunted, whatever was making her agitated seemed to suddenly deflate, making her stop her pacing and rest her head within the palm of her clawed hand.

“Ugh. Freaking- God Dammit. I don't actually hate your guts, and I do actually care if you live or die. Happy?” V finished, a small golden blush displaying on her visor, crossing her arms.

Uzi took a moment to process, before snickering into her hand, making V blush harder and growl irritability.

“Do not.” V warned, but now her threats were empty, they always were, but now there was no pretending otherwise.

“Aww. V, that's like, the nicest thing you've ever said to me.” Uzi smirked, watching at V's tail thrashed like whip, displaying her discomfort.

“I don't know what you're talking about.” V replied, breifly looking away before her eyes came to glance at Uzi from the corner of her visor, Uzi was smiling.

And so was V.

-*-

“Alright. Alright. Settle Down!” Khan was standing up a stage set up in the WDF training course. The aforementioned equipment haven been deconstructed and put away, the rows of seating in it's ‘stadium-esque’ design being perfect for holding a bunker wide meeting.

Speaking of bunker-wide, every drone that made their home within the bunker was scattered throughout the seats, a rainbow of different eyelight colors staring back at him, even so seeing everyone in front of him made what he already knew more obvious.

There weren't a lot of them left…

The soft murmur of voices quieted, and Khan cleared his throat, looking back behind him to the other two drones with him. Uzi, sitting with her legs crossed and arms crossed, refusing to look ahead at their audience. And N, who was standing at stiff attention at her side, for once, Tera was not with them. Instead, V was looking after her, offering almost immediately.

He turned back to his audience, taking a deep breath.

“Thank you all for coming. I know everyone is curious on why I called this emergency meeting. So I won't waste time.”

He nodded to N, who nodded back and lifted his hand. A large yellow hologram of Copper-9 appeared above them, enough for everyone to see, it drew so much power from N's systems his eyelights and headband dimmed and he winced.

“This is our home, we've worked, fought, and made lives here for over a hundred years, not always independent, but always here.” Khan’s voice wavered.

“Right now, however, this is what our home looks like.”

With some effort on his part, N's hologram changed, one hole opening up, then another, and two more, until the surface of the planet was reminiscent of Swiss cheese, pockmarked full of holes. Images provided by V's scouting trip.

And out of each one, tentacles reached up out of them, pulsing and wiggling wildly, the audience gave a collective wince, several people gasped. And a few straight up burst into tears.

“After through study, it has been determined that twenty percent of the planet has already been consumed, the rest will follow within six months… give or take.” He continued, the waver in his voice was obvious now, but he powered through. N changed the hologram again, letting a fleshy substance cover the frozen surface of Copper-9.

“My daughter has come up with a plan; one that I will let her explain.” He suddenly turned to Uzi, N's hologram fading out and his glow returning to near normal, though an exhausted look flickered across his face.

Uzi took a deep breath, replacing her father's place on stage, feeling the mic attached to her shirt, heavy as lead.

“I know I don't have the best reputation.” She started, her voice croaking slightly. She balled up one of her hands, all the eyes boring into her as she felt her core speed up. “You all know me as Khan’s outcast, rebellious daughter, the one that brought the murder drones into the bunker.”

And so, so much more

She thought internally.

“But believe me when I tell you I want every single person here to make it out of this situation alive.” She nodded at N, who gave her a small smile before, with another wince, brought up another large hologram.

This one was of a shuttle, large enough to fit the entire bunker, though still very much only a concept.

“The cause of the infection is currently unknown, but the flesh that's spreading across the surface is deadly, contact with it causes rapid assimilation, and a loss of all bodily autonomy.” She paused for a moment, realizing she was speaking as if she was reading out of textbook.

“Zombification, in layman's terms.” She clarified, the audience was dead silent, but with another steadying breath and an even tighter grip on her own palm, she continued. “Our best option is complete planetary evacuation.”

There was a murmur through the crowd, one that Uzi was expecting.

“I hear you. This is our home, we've always lived here. And that kind of change is scary.” She was happy she had pre-written this speech with the help of her dad, otherwise, she would have definitely flubbed something up by now.

She had to give credit where credit was due, Khan knew how to write a speech.

“But leaving is a chance at survival, more then that, it's our chance to truly divorce ourselves from our past as nothing but tools for our creators.” At that she could hear several affirmative mumbles, she thought that might have been a good addition, there were many old drones that still remembered being slaves.

“From today, my plan is to build an escape shuttle, reverse engineering the landing pods already here to head to somewhere where we can start again.” N's hologram showed an image of a landing pod, before switching to a new planet, one covered in greenery instead of ice.

“Without all of us working together, this won't work, so I'm asking each and every one of you to pull together for this. Not for me, but for your family, your neighbors, your friends. And help make this a reality.”

She finished, finally, feeling satisfied with what she had said.

“Those in favor. Head down to the right of the stadium. Those opposed, to the left.”

Despite at this point needing to sleep for several sunlit days, N gave a last hologram, two arrows pointing left and right.

Uzi took the opportunity to check up on him, walking back towards him with a concerned frown.

“You okay? I know you haven't been sleeping well, and that took a lot of energy.” With everyone gathering below the stage, Uzi felt safe enough to place a hand on his chest. He gave a small smile.

“I'm good.” His hand came up into a thumbs up even as Uzi could see the ‘low charge’ symbol blinking at the corner of his visor. “You passed out this morning, I should be asking you.”

His hand came to rest on her baby bump, giving her a very tired grin as the hologram flickered slightly. “Baby has you exhausted too, I'm really proud of you for making this speech.”

She blushed, taking another glance around to insure no one was watching them.

“Let's just hope it was worth it..” Uzi blinked, did… did she just say that twice? Because it was either that or… the mic was still on.

She gasped, looking down at the mic attached to her, still blinking green, showing that it was indeed on. She looked back up at N, who looked equally as shocked. And she quickly turned it off, looking back at her dad, who had apparently been trying to get her attention this entire time, and now was just smiling sheepishly.

The stadium was dead silent.

Like a character in a horror movie, she slowly went to check on the rest of the stadium, the seats now all empty. She peered over the side and-

Not a single person was present on the left, every single drone voting in favor of Uzi's plan, when she was noticed back within view, she got cheers, she could hear congratulations mixed in with the “you go girl”s and straight cheers.

She began to tear up a moment of relief hitting her before the mortification she just announced her pregnancy in front of the entire bunker caught up.

She looked back at N, his hologram now gone, while he shrugged his shoulders with a smile, although a look on his face that was asking ‘are you alright’

No was the answer.

But even still, the plan was set in motion.

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