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rottenblur · 1 year ago

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Post workout pump|A.ANDERSON

Abby x fem reader 2.3k

Summary: Your gym rat Tinder date isn’t one to not kiss on the first date, a coffee date is much more interesting with her.

WARNINGS: public shit, public fingering??? Dirty talk, Abby being bold as hell, head!! Fingering, quick mention of that liquor. Fucking on the first date.

Abby’s Tinder profile was simple, a couple of gym rat pictures, and a couple cute candid ones someone had taken of her with a background of beautiful scenery. The one that made you swipe on her was a picture of her smiling in the forest, normally you wouldn’t go for “outdoorsy” people, you wanted someone you could comfortably rot away with.

It was her fucking smile. The way that her hair practically glowed in the sunlight peaking through the trees, how her freckles complimented every feature on her face. It wasn’t just her looks though, you weren’t that shallow. Her bio was simple, simple in a way it didn’t seem like she was faking it for people to like her.

“Will fight for you.” And you believed it with every inch of your body, she looked like fought off bears for a living. She could break you in half, part of you wanted her to.

Your conversation on the app was short, you gave her your number pretty fast, I mean she asked for it.

You got a text from a random number quickly after you gave it to her.

(7xx) 8xx-6xxx: Hey beautiful.

You replied quickly.

You: Hey.. this abby?

The typing bubbles popped up immediately, she responded fast and used punctuation, which was rare. In your experience, and probably rare to everyone on dating apps. To be honest, this was your first time on a dating app, you had too much on your plate to even think about dating since high school.

Abby: [IMAGE ATTACHED]

Abby: Sure is.

The picture was a live photo in a gym mirror, she had dumbbells resting by her feet, her body covered in a tank top and loose basketball shorts. Her muscles were huge, you didn’t think someone could be that strong, the sweat making them shiny didn’t help how hard you were staring right now.

You: oh my god…

That’s all you can get out, you have no thoughts.

You: i’m blushing

You throw your phone, you’ve only been talking to her for maybe an hour and yet she already has you wrapped around her finger.

The text bubbles pop up, she’s typing.

Abby: Aw, such a sweet girl, already blushing for me.

If you weren’t blushing before, you were now. You couldn’t stand another minute not being with her.

You: are you busy today? I need to see you

Text bubbles pop up, then disappear, come back then disappear again. Read, for ten minutes. Were you moving too fast? You put your phone down, tidying up your room to distract yourself from the stress. You get into the shower, your phone on the sink counter for music. You wash your hair when your phone starts ringing, fuck.

You grab the towel hanging up, drying off your hands and step out of the shower to pick up your phone, it’s her. You press the green accept button and put the phone up to your ear, pushing your wet hair out of the way.

“Hey.” She says. Her voice, oh my fuck, her voice. It was gentle but so heavy with intent, she sounded like she only spoke if she meant it.

“Hi.” You respond back, wrapping the towel around your body and stepping out of the bathroom to make sure she heard you well.

“God, you sound adorable. I’m not busy, just at the gym right now but I’m free in thirty minutes if you wanna go for coffee.” She says, you can hear the dumb bells banging in the back now.

Your mouth falls open, she really wants to see you? A date? Today? You forget to speak.

“Yeah, yeah please. Where to?” You respond back.

You hear her laugh slightly, then take a breath. “I’ll text you the address beautiful, you’ll like it I know you will.” God people making decisions for you was suddenly so hot.

You agree and giggle, uncontrollably. “Bye bye.”

“See ya.” She says then hangs up. Fuck you were nervous.

You get a text from her, the address was a small locally owned coffee shop just down the street from you, maybe she lived close. Surprisingly you had never been there before, maybe you could have met her sooner if you stepped out of your comfort zone more often, you would have met her sooner.

Twenty minutes had passed, you got back into the shower, finishing it and getting ready. Drying your hair and throwing on a cute fitting outfit, something easy, or just easy access, hey you weren’t against doing stuff on the first date, especially not with her.

You walk to the coffee shop, texting her when you arrive at the front doors, her assuring you she was already there. She was early, you liked that.

You walk inside and that's when you see her. She was in the back, in a booth manspreading under dimly lit lights. You walk over towards her, her hands set on the table, fiddling with a stir stick. She looks up and sees you, her blue eyes light up. She stands up, she towers over you. You look up at her, her freckles are even cuter in person.

“Hey beautiful, you look you know..beautiful.” She says looking you up and down. You smile at her muttering a greeting back. You were almost shaking, she was perfect, everything you could have ever wanted.

“You want a drink? I’ll order, just finished mine.” She says, placing a hand on your upper arm, it engulfed your arm in full. You nod and tell her your order. She smiles at you and walks off to order, you sit down scooting to the inside. A one-sided booth, leaving no choice but to sit right next to her, her boldness was attractive.

She comes back, placing your drink on the table in front of you, scooting herself right next to you placing hers next to yours. You pick up your drink taking a sip, as she lays her arm on the booth behind your back spreading her legs, getting comfortable. “Was that picture from today?” You refer to the picture she sent you earlier. She nods turning her head to look at you.

Her strawberry blond hair slightly damp presumably from a shower, her blue t-shirt clung to her arms, her jeans tight to her legs. God.

“You like what you see?” She says tilting her head at you, looking you up and down in return. You nod shyly looking away as you fiddle with the end of your skirt. She catches that, flicking your hands away, replacing them with hers. “You wear this for me? I like it, looks really good on you sweetheart.”

God the pet name, her hands on you, on your clothes. Her compliments, she has you melting. “I wore it for you Abby.” You say looking at her, she looks up from your legs to your eyes. She smiles, rubbing your cheeks, keeping one hand on your thigh. “God you’re adorable, I got you blushing already.” She takes her hand off your cheek and takes a sip of her drink.

“What made you want to talk to me?” She says as she rubs her thumb on your engulfed thigh. You’re fighting to not squeeze your thighs together. You look at her lips, and her eyes then respond. “You’re pretty, I mean you’re hot, you’re intimidating it’s attractive.” You say. She nods, humming a response to you.

“Well, I thought about how fucking cute you’d look with my head between your thighs.” She said it so innocently, her hand moving up under your skirt, you couldn’t handle it your trap her hand by squeezing your thighs together.

She clicks her tongue at you tapping your thigh with her free thumb for you to open your legs. You submit to her order, opening your legs for her. Her finger grazes your clothed clit, your panties wet from her teasing. You look at her and finally respond. “I’d like that, alot.” Your cheeks were burning up, your whole body was burning up with need.

She leans in closer to you, whispering into your ear. “You’re so perfect, so fucking ready for me, so beautiful.” A whine falls out of your mouth, uncontrollably. Her fingers continue dancing from your clit to your slit, teasing you no, torturing you.

You place one elbow on the table, the other gripping Abby’s thigh, you were dripping onto your skirt it was unbearable. You finally mutter out exactly what you need to say.

“I need you Abby, I need you.” You say. She pulls her hand away, awwing in response, turning your head towards hers with a grip on your chin. She smiles and shakes her head. “Ask nicely beautiful.” You lick your lips and nod. “I need you please, please Abby.

She lets go of your face, standing up and holding out a hand for you, you take it letting her pull you up out of the booth. Your legs were weak, even trembling, she noticed this and smirked at you.

She drove the two of you to her apartment, so fucking close to yours, her hand on your thigh the whole way there, her glances never made you blush any less each time. She parks her car and guides you up to her apartment with your hand clutched all the way there.

She unlocks her door, leading you in first, she walks in behind you, and kicks off her shoes. She grabs you, pushing you against the door connecting your lips with hers, locking the door with one hand, the other wrapped around your waist.

She pulls away, looking at you with those lustful blue eyes, they looked much brighter when you first met her but now there's nothing darker. She locks lips with you picking you up and carrying you towards her bedroom, her hands full of ass.

She’s mirroring your whimpers into the kiss with grunts, your arms wrapped around her neck. As she enters the bedroom with your legs wrapped around her, you fiddle with her braid, undoing it and running your fingers through the loose strands.

She throws you down onto the bed, the plush duvet sinking behind your back. Your quick breaths are loud in the quiet room, Abby stares are you eating you up with her eyes. “What do you want beautiful?” she says to you, stripping her jeans off revealing her grey boxer briefs, a wet spot that catches your eye. Apparently, you're not the only one worked up.

When you don't respond she hums a “hmm?” to you pulling you from your thoughts. “I want you, I want to feel you everywhere Abby.” A quiet grunt comes from the back of her throat. She leans to you, putting her knees on the bed and caging you in with her arms. She kisses you, her tongue tangled with yours. She pulls away to strip her shirt from her body, tossing it aside.

You admire her body, stripped from her tight t-shirt her muscles look even bigger. She places your hands on her shoulders pulling your shirt off. She leans down to unhook your bra and kisses you.

She scans your body, her eyes make you want her even more. She kisses your lips, pushing her knee in between your thighs applying the perfect amount of friction as she moves to make out with you.

She kisses down your bare chest sucking purple spots all the way down your stomach, your neck to your hips littered in hickeys. “So fucking good for me.” She mutters out as she flips the hem of your skirt up onto your stomach. She kisses the inside of your thighs, whines and whimpers falling out of your mouth with need.

She leaves marks leading up to your panties, now even wetter with want. She pushes them to the side, taking a quick lick and sucking on your clit then looking up at you. Her eyes, her face from the angle could make you cum right there and then.

“You taste so fucking good beautiful.” You were melting. She attaches her mouth back to your clit spiralling circles with her tongue, holding your hips down with one hand.

She rubs your hip as you fight to ride her face, take control. She sucks your clit and pushes two fingers inside, filling you so well. Her fingers found places inside you, you never knew existed.

Her tongue quickens it's pace as so does her fingers pumping in and out of you. Moans fall from the back of your throat, you can hear Abby’s grunts vibrating against your clit.

She disconnects her mouth, pumping and curling her fingers to the perfect spot at a brutal pace, she looks up at you, arched back gripping the blanket. “Such a good fucking girl.” Her praises push you over the edge. She connects her lips back pulling you quickly to your climax. You look down to her, as your thoughts dissapear.

You pulse all over her fingers, and she pulls them out, kissing your thigh. She looks back at you, as she sucks you off her fingers. “So good sweetheart, so goddamn good.” She crawls her back up to your lips kissing you gently.

She whispers into your ear. “You make such pretty noises for a slut.” That shocked you, after all those praises, she degraded you. It had you ready for round two all in eight words.

She lays next to you, looking you up and down. “Want a drink?” She asks.

You nod, she gets up tossing you her t-shirt and a fresh pair of underwear from her drawer, a pair of black boxers. They were loose resting on your hips as the shirt went to mid thighs.

She walks out of the room, and you follow her sitting on the couch as she pulls a bottle of dark liquor from her bar cart. You lay down, she sits down placing your legs on top of hers passing you the drink. She tucks her hair behind her ear and looks at you, placing her hand on your thigh.

“Wanna stay the night?”

A/N: AHHHH I wrote this really fast if there are any spelling mistakes/ grammar mistakes LOOK AWAY. I love Abby thank you.

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back2bluesidex · 2 months ago

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Slide - The Trial - MYG

Pairing: Producer!Yoongi X Lyricist!Reader

Theme: Angst, smut, unplanned pregnancy. Fwb to ?

Word count: 1.1k+

Summary:

"Caught in a daze, I persuade her with my own complications"

Alternatively,

You have some questions and Yoongi has no answer.

Listened to Slide by Chase Atlantics

Warnings: Angst, reader's turning point. Yoongi's suffering has began.

Minors do not interact!!

Series Masterlist | Masterlist | Patreon (for early access)

Taglist requests are closed for now

A/N: another Yoongi's pov. before we dive into reader's post miscarriage angst. also, I have tagged everyone who asked to be tagged after I closed the request for the first time but I have only tagged the blogs which have age mentioned in their bios.

Read the next chapter

“I want a daughter first and then… ummm… probably a son too. We will name her Yunri. Yoongi plus Gyuri, Yunri.” Gyuri had told him once, latching onto his arm as if it meant everything to her.

Yoongi knew he should have felt warmth bubbling in his chest, he knew he should have felt giddy but what he felt was dread running through the entire course of his body.

Getting married, having kids are two of the things he never planned for in life - not even when he fell in love with Gyuri, not even when he got engaged to her somewhat against his own will.

But now he feels weird, he feels something really really uncomfortable in his chest as he stares at your weak frail form weeping while sitting at the couch.

His own limbs feel like jelly as he realizes again that you were pregnant and the baby was his.

A baby - his and yours.

Why doesn’t it feel so dreadful anymore?

Yoongi puts the entire weight of his body on his arms and pushes himself off of the ground. His toes carry his body towards you.

But he is afraid - what if you push him away now? What if you break when he touches you?

What if you scatter and disappear in fine dust as soon as he gets close to you?

What if… what if… all of this is a dream?

You don’t look at him when he silently sits beside you. It hurts him but he knows better than putting the blame on you.

If anyone is to be blamed, then it’s him for sure.

Yoongi opens his mouth to say something - anything. But he only gapes like a fish out of water because his thoughts don’t form a coherent sentence.

Your face is covered with your small palms, Yoongi wants to reach out, clutch those and apologize to you until you forgive him for all the damages he has done.

But he can’t.

Again he is afraid to break you even more.

“Why.. why didn’t you tell me?” Yoongi doesn’t recognize his own voice when it leaves his throat. There is much more pain than he has heard himself speak with in a while - certainly for the first time after Gyuri left.

You sniff, then rub tears off your eyes and stare blankly at the ceiling.

The scene is awfully similar to your and his first night together. He still recalls losing himself in those dark eyes of yours little by little and then finally diving into your abyss.

“There are tons of reasons why. But even if I did, would it change anything?” your voice is completely opposite of his - steady, firm, doesn’t bear a single hint of all the tears he has been watching you shade.

You are truly just another version of him.

“That doesn’t answer my question, Y/N. Why didn’t you tell me you were pregnant?” Yoongi scoots a little closer to your body.

You sigh, a deep, resigned sigh that says you are exhausted - both mentally and physically.

“If I told you, wouldn’t you think that this is an excuse? For keeping you all to myself? For not letting you go back to the only woman you have ever loved? Wouldn’t you, Yoongi?” You finally look at him, eyes red with continuous crying.

Yoongi can’t stare into your eyes now. He is ashamed because you are right. He would have thought you are just like other women out there - trying to latch onto him for god knows what.

He licks his lips instead, prepares to say something but you cut him off again.

“Also you said … you don’t want to have kids.” your voice trembles now.

Again you are right - Yoongi definitely doesn’t want kids. But then why losing your and his baby tugs painfully at his heartstrings?

Why?

“But I am responsible for your pregnancy, I- I should have been there for you.” Yoongi tries to reach out for your hand but you move away, standing on your weak feet.

“There’s no point of regretting now. The baby is gone.” you inhale a long breath and then continue, “but I really want to know what you are doing here? At this hour? Right after rejecting me?”

Yoongi stands up too, somewhat hyper, “I didn’t reject you. I was- I was just shocked. You ran away before- before I got to utter a single word, Y/N. I wanted to go after you but-”

“But then the right person came to claim you and you ended up lost in her lips, am I right?” you don’t scream but anger is evident in your voice anyway.

Yoongi recalls the doctor asking him not to stress you out any more.

“It was a trial, Y/N. Me and Gyuri getting back together was a trial. I knew it wasn’t a good idea but when she begged me- I- I couldn’t say no. I knew I was hurting you too and I thought getting back with her would set you free. But I- I was wrong. I wasn’t free myself. I kept thinking of you.” Yoongi stops, gulps the lump in his throat and proceeds to continue, “I know I sound selfish but I got attached to you during our time together. And it is not meaningless to me as you happen to believe. You are more meaningful than most of the people in my life… including Gyuri. I… I broke things off with her, this time forever. And I came to tell you that… that I want to try being with you. If you’d let me.”

You scoff, “and why so? Why do you want to try being with me?”

Your question renders Yoongi speechless. He doesn’t know the answer to your question.

“Tell me, Yoongi, why do you want to try? What is it that you feel for me?” you press more. Your new found determination of cornering him shocks him, but he knows he is the one to blame.

And now that he wonders the answers, he can’t find any firm sentence to offer you.

He still doesn’t know what he feels for you.

“I- I don’t know. I don’t know what I feel for you.”

You laugh, dry but dripping with amusement and anger, “then I would ask you to leave. You may only come back with the thought of getting together with me when you are sure about my place in your life.”

You slowly walk away from him, taking careful steps towards your bedroom.

Yoongi stands there as he feels the void in his chest getting bigger and bigger. A tear escapes his eyes but he still doesn’t know what he is crying for - you? The unborn baby? Or himself?

His real trial, probably, begins here.

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 9 months ago

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Bend & Break - C.SC

🥺Who: Choi Seungcheol (Seventeen) x female reader 🥺What: coworkers. friends to fuckers. smut. 🥺Wordcount: 10k 🥺Warnings: Profanity. Sex toys. Dom!reader. Sub!Seungcheol. Petnames from reader to Cheol(baby, sweetheart, little one, good boy, babyboy). Kink discussion. Safeword discussion. Teasing. Fingering by reader to self. Cheol licks/sucks a dildo. He's very needy and desperate <3. Edging(Cheol receiving). Begging(Cheol). Cheol cries(from pleasure dw). Reader just wants to ruin Seungcheol and that's so relatable. Sort of ambigious ending I guess in regards to the future of their relationship.

Summary; You've recently been hired due to the sunshine personality you showed for an interview, purely with the intention of the company pairing you up with Seungcheol to counteract his grumpy attitude around the office. Nobody realises it's just a work persona of yours and when someone does, it's none other than Choi Seungcheol himself.

Minors do NOT interact. I WILL block any account that interacts without an age indicator in the bio.

-2024 Masterlist-

A/N; this story would've never happened if the wonderful @bitchlessdino hadn't taken pity on me and my empty brain and slid an idea over to me. And letting me run wild and turn it into a sub cheol smut. Thank you so much for screaming about this with me, sweetheart <3

Edited: 21/12/24

Being the new hire anywhere isn't ever really a thrilling experience for anyone. Being the new hire mostly because of the fake persona you showed at the interview is even worse. Because now, you have to keep acting like the bubbly, happy-go-lucky person you had pretended to be two months ago.

Still, the pay is good, the hours aren't gruelling and although you're part of a dozen-strong team, you share a comfortable little office with only one other person, so you figure it's not the worst trade-off.

Though you still haven't yet decided if your work partner is reason enough to change your mind about that.

Choi Seungcheol is the very reason you were hired; to counteract his frankly miserable attitude around the office. Not that he much leaves your shared office, but when he does he's likely to be glaring at whoever is making the most noise, or simply asking him a question that isn't entirely necessary.

He has the world's most severe case of resting bitch face too, which regularly causes issues with clients. So you were hired to be the pep in client meetings and steer things in the correct direction when Seungcheol is seconds from saying something that could risk the contract, or a trip to HR.

Seungcheol isn't the type to fake interest in the personal lives of clients or colleagues; he's just here to work. And honestly, you respect that a hell of a lot. But it also means you shoulder all the small talk and have to look at pictures of people's pets, kids, and holidays that you really could not give less shits about.

And all of that means that although Seungcheol is a hard worker and you're beyond happy to have a competent partner at your side, he is one of the main reasons for your rising stress levels. Just once you'd like to not have to be the smiling balm to soothe the sting of his harsh demeanour and blunt words.

Alas, Seungcheol is not going to change his ways, especially when he doesn't know that you could really do with him pulling his weight in the charm department.

Which is made very apparent on one particular day with a new client who seems to consistently bump heads with Seungcheol.

The meeting is an hour of Seungcheol's nastiest bitch face and the client's obnoxious attitude flaunting the “customer is always right” motto the company stupidly prides itself on. You want to tell the client to go fuck himself on more than one occasion throughout the meeting, but you can't seeing as you'd like to be able to keep receiving a pay check.

As soon as the meeting is over, Seungcheol is out of there, no doubt halfway back to your shared office before you can even exit the little conference room thanks to the client deciding that “you just have to visit the resort I vacationed in. Here, let me show you the site”. So you're stuck pretending to be interested in the fancy foreign resort that the client shows you on his phone for the next handful of minutes before you can finally leave.

After all that you really need a break, so instead of going straight back to your office you walk straight past it and to the supply room for your floor.

Once inside the small room of shelving units full of various office supplies, you just stand there, eyes squeezed closed and hands tight on your hips while you focus on trying to calm yourself down with some deep breathing.

You're so focused that you don't hear the door open a few minutes later. The gentle tap of shoes on the hard flooring has your eyes snapping open and over to where Seungcheol, of all people, is standing with one hand raised to grab a new packet of printer paper, but his attention is entirely on you. He looks bewildered; one eyebrow raised and the other scrunched a little with his head tilted slightly.

You immediately slap on your usual bright smile, entirely fake but nobody has ever noticed that before, and grab a new, empty folder from the shelf near you. “I didn't know we need new paper already, I would've grabbed it myself if I knew,” you chirp, already walking towards the exit but the room isn't wide enough for there to be enough space around Seungcheol for you to just breeze on by like you want to. And he doesn't step aside either.

“Well, guess everyone's favourite isn't all sunshine and rainbows after all,” he replies with a smug smirk. “I wonder how everyone will react to knowing the truth about you.

“I don't know what you mean, Seungcheol.” You smile sweetly then skirt around him and leave before he can say anything else so you can return to your shared office to get to work on the new client file.

You expect Seungcheol to say something when he returns; to try and taunt you and goad you some more yet he doesn't say a thing, he just silently refills the paper in the printer and gets back to work.

For a whole week, Seungcheol has you on edge; he keeps smirking at you knowingly and making vague comments around others in what you know is an attempt to get you to break. But you hold on strong and don't show a single sign that the you everyone in the office knows, isn't you at all.

It's pretty much a week to the exact minute that you break. Another meeting with that same client that goes about as well as the first has you back in the supply room counting your breaths.

You're very certain that your printer does not need more paper already when you look over at the footsteps entering the small room.

Seungcheol isn't even pretending to be there for any reason other than to watch you break. He's leaning against the unit on his right with his arms crossed over his chest and a cocky smirk on his face.

And finally, enough is enough.

“You need to fucking stop,” you warn. His face lights up in victory at you not even attempting to put on the higher, friendlier pitch you use at work; your customer service voice that you even use for your colleagues. “Seriously, Seungcheol, stop it,” you reiterate while heading towards the exit.

This time, Seungcheol purposely stands in your path and looks down at you arrogantly. “Are you going to admit that you're not the innocent little sweetheart that everyone thinks you are?”

You take a breath as you stare back at him just so you don't break too far. “You don't even know the half of it,” you retort simply.

Seungcheol stares back at you curiously for a few seconds before stepping aside to watch you go, wondering what exactly that means and how he can find out for himself.

After that second incident in the supply room, you figure there's really not any point in keeping up the facade with Seungcheol so when it's just the two of you in your private office, you let the persona drop.

The first time you swear to yourself in complaint over your work, Seungcheol gawps at you in shock until you notice and raise an eyebrow at him. But he says nothing and doesn't react after that time except the occasional amused smile to himself as he hears you curse colourfully at much more regular intervals than he ever does.

And Seungcheol lets you see more of the real him too.

The two of you have always met outside of work for the sake of finishing tasks or discussing clients without being confined to the same four walls of your office. You'd get dinner or he'd come over to your apartment to go over documents in your office for however long necessary. But it was always about work.

Though now that he knows who you really are, it's not always about work; your conversations over dinner turn more friendly, enough that you see him smiling genuinely and laughing for the first time. And he doesn't stop either.

A genuine friendship quickly blossoms between the pair of you, allowing you to be yourselves to the extent that on more than one occasion Seungcheol has turned big, pleading puppy eyes on you with a pout to convince you to go where he wants for dinner, or even when he's complaining about his friends and being whiny, the big eyes hit you.

And the way they hit you is really not something you think you should think about the man, so you shove the thoughts of pinning him down and telling him what to do out of your mind.

The friendship between you is noticed by your colleagues too. It's kind of hard to miss the way that you're the only person who can get Seungcheol to join work dinners, after all.

You both know that there's a 'secret' betting pool going around the office in regard to whether you two are secretly dating or not; Jeonghan is not as slick as he thinks at hiding the bet sheet. And for fun, sometimes you and Seungcheol will purposely let your fingers brush over one another or let your gazes linger longer than they should, just to watch your coworkers try to not visibly flail at what they think are moments of you two failing to hide your relationship.

Though mostly, your close relationship means that when one of you is invited to drinks, dinner or some other activity with colleagues, you'll both turn up. Even if neither of you want to. But you dug a hole with your fake persona and refuse to be buried in it alone so always drag Seungcheol in to suffer with you.

Which leads us to the day that you well and truly snap.

It's one of those days where if something can go wrong, it will, topped with shitty clients and colleagues who will just not let you have five minutes of peace.

By the end of the day, you're wound so tight that all you want to do is go home and give yourself some good old-fashioned stress relief on one of your favourite toys. But this day doesn't allow you even that.

It's another casual team dinner that you can't get out of; it's to celebrate Mingyu's birthday and well, even if you're in a shitty mood, the giant puppy of a man is such a sweetheart that you truly would feel bad about ditching him to masturbate.

So you get into Seungcheol's car like usual after work, go to the restaurant and sit at his side at the table while silently praying that this will not be a complete shit show.

Two hours later, you're really at the end of your fucking rope. You really had been naive to even hope that this team dinner wouldn't be as rowdy and chaotic as all the rest. Your colleagues are a lot on the best of days with nothing to celebrate, so when they have an excuse to drink they really go for it. You're always surprised when the group isn't kicked out of public spaces, honestly.

The only ones not drinking are you and Seungcheol. Neither of you ever drink at these gatherings; you claim that you just don't drink in general while Seungcheol flat-out refuses without any attempt at an excuse. Really, you both don't want to risk encouraging the group to invite either of you out for more than just the company-related dinners, so not drinking sort of keeps the team in general at arm's length. Though both of you do have a few drinks when it's just the two of you and you can let yourselves relax in trusted, comfortable company.

But this is not that, this is you sitting side by side with Seungcheol blessedly keeping his mouth shut while you try not to break and tell everyone to shut the fuck up before leaving.

You do, however, take solace in the bathroom a few times, using the cold water to cool you down before going back into what tonight feels like your own personal hell.

On your latest trip out of the bathroom Seungcheol passes you, heading to empty his own bladder. He smirks at you and murmurs something in your ear as you pass one another. You can't even tell what he says; your brain is so heavy with fuzzy tension that his words don't register at all. But they don't need to, you know he's teasing you about your temper; he's done it before many times. Usually, you'd just joke back at him and point out his own, but tonight you don't have it in you.

Your gaze turns icy on him in a second causing him to come to an abrupt stop. You don't linger, don't slow and just turn and settle your expression back to your facade before rejoining the drunken group.

When Seungcheol returns, he timidly slips into his seat on your right silently in an attempt to not anger you further. Though a few seconds later, the tip of his left pinkie brushes the edge of your right elbow where it's resting on the tabletop, his hand sort of hooked on the edge of the table close to you yet out of sight of your colleagues.

You turn your head to look at Seungcheol and find him looking at you with those fucking giant doe eyes, silently asking for forgiveness. But you don't give it, just turn back around to watch your coworkers making absolute fools of themselves.

Yet your mind is stuck on Seungcheol's innocent expression and timid posture and all you can think about is how much you'd love to make him squirm and beg under your attention. It's riling you up in a way you usually keep such a tight lid on, but considering how tense you already are tonight, that lid is bowing and shaking under the building pressure and you know it'll blow soon enough.

For the first time since meeting Seungcheol, being in his passenger seat isn't a very pleasant experience. Neither of you say a word for the entire fourteen-minute drive from the restaurant to your apartment, and that in itself isn't unusual, but usually there isn't this thick tension hanging between you two.

When Seungcheol pulls up in front of your building, you turn to look at him. He has both hands on the wheel and eyes locked on the space between his hands with clearly no intention of doing more than just dropping you off at home despite the fact he usually goes straight inside with you to hang out some more.

And honestly, it's probably best if he does go straight home and leaves you to deal with your tension alone. But it's not exactly an option.

“You need to check those documents ready for Monday,” you remind. Seungcheol lets out a reluctant breath but relocates the car to the parking lot in silent agreement.

Once in your apartment, the two of you remove your shoes and jackets to put them in their usual places.

It's kind of insane to you that Seungcheol is at your apartment enough that there is literally space on the low shoe rack for him to leave his shoes, and a gap on the pegs for his work jacket, there's even one of his casual jackets already there on the next peg. You don't really have any close friends, nobody you deem worth your time to allow into your life frequently enough to have a usual place in your home.

There isn't anything said between you as you walk through to your office where you lean over onto the desk to boot up your computer while Seungcheol hovers awkwardly a little behind you.

While waiting for the system to accept your password for the work files, you look over your shoulder at him with a raised eyebrow. He stares back at you dumbly until you give him a look and motion to the chair on your right with a silent tilt of your head.

In seconds, Seungcheol's ass meets the seat and he stares up at you with big, obedient eyes, his hands laced together and trapped between his thick thighs.

It's all rather dangerous considering how close you are to snapping and overstepping the boundaries neither of you had ever verbally set up between you but are always in place in platonic relationships. Even if you want nothing more than to destroy them right now, and Seungcheol too.

So you turn back to your computer with gritted teeth, open the relevant documents and motion to the computer vaguely before leaving the room entirely.

You go straight to the kitchen to down a glass of water as cold as you can stand it before splashing more on your face, then dragging a cold, wet hand on the back of your neck needing all the help you can currently get to cool down in every sense of the word.

It doesn't work.

By the time Seungcheol is done with the documents and shuffles into the kitchen, you're standing with both hands on the counter in front of you while staring darkly at nothing in particular, jaw tense and an attempt in your breathing to try and regulate your emotions.

“I finished it, it's all ready to send off,” he informs, coming to a stop a few metres away, not as close as he'd usually stand but still closer than sensible if he knew the depravity in your mind right now.

“Good,” you return simply without even looking at him.

He huffs a soft laugh. “No thank you?” He jokes, but you can't see the humour at all. Not when you're feeling like this.

“Thank you?” You repeat flatly before turning your dark gaze to him as you straighten and lean off of the counter. He swallows thickly and takes a step back when you take one towards him, prompting him to keep reversing. “Why should I thank you for doing your fucking job, huh?”

Seungcheol's mouth opens and closes with an attempt to try and say something, some kind of a “just joking” explanation but all he manages are vague sputters of sound that cut off abruptly when his back hits the wall and you're standing right in front of him. He's taller than you by a handful of inches but right now, he feels so fucking small and he's surprised by how much he likes it.

"Well?" You prompt, well aware that he had tried to explain himself; his pathetic stammering was very obvious and gave away that you’re intimidating him.

Though based on the big innocent eyes on you paired with the prettiest of pink tints to his cheeks, you think that perhaps intimidation isn't all it is.

And it's just pushing you to keep pushing him until he breaks because you know that he'll break so fucking beautifully.

“I'm sorry,” he finally manages to squeak out.

“You think that's good enough? You think you can just give me empty words and all is forgiven? Oh, baby, you really don't know me at all.”

He just stares at you dumbly; mouth dry and pupils dilating further and further with every act you make.

It's far from the Seungcheol you see at work and that thought sort of douses you in icy water. This isn't normal for either of you.

Well, it's not unusual behaviour for you with partners at all, but he doesn't know that. Besides, he's your work partner and friend, not a sexual partner.

“Shit.” You sigh and back up a little. “You should go, I'm clearly not in the right frame of mind and if you stay, I'll go too far.” You try to move even further away to give him space to leave, yet you're stopped by your shirt pulling tight around your back. You look down and find both of Seungcheol's hands gripping the hem of your untucked shirt, his fingers trembling a little. You look back up with a questioning eyebrow.

“ don't want to leave,” he admits quietly as his cheeks darken slightly.

“No?” He shakes his head shyly. “You know what it means if you stay, right? You know what I want to do to you?” You check a little worriedly.

“Uhm...dom me?”

You huff a laugh. “I want to ruin you, baby.” His eyes light with interest. “You want that? Big scary Choi Seungcheol wants little ol' me to pin him down and make him cry?” You tease while running a finger over his jaw.

His mouth opens wider and his tongue appears with the tip pressed against his lip as if reaching for your touch. You don't give it to him even if you think he'll look precious with your fingers in his mouth.

You pull your hands away and cross your arms over your chest. “When I ask you a question, I expect a verbal response, Seungcheol.” Your voice is firm and your expression is the same on him.

“Y-yes!” He rushes out. “I-I want you to do that to me.”

“Do what?”

“Use me.” You hadn't said those words yourself, but you like them a hell of a lot. “Push me down and use me to make yourself feel good. Make me cry, ruin me. Please just...do something,” he's begging by now, not as strongly as he could be, still holding back a lot but you're pretty sure it's all very new for him.

You need to check though before anything goes any further. “Have you ever done anything like this before? Subbed?”

He shakes his head a little. “No, it's usually the other way.”

“Figures.” You huff a laugh then reach down to remove his hands from your shirt to take one into your own hand. “Come on.”

You lead him to your bedroom, though let him go in the middle of the floor to walk over and sit on the edge of your bed. He fidgets when you just stare at him contemplatively, your eyes dark and calculating as you lean back on your palms behind you with your legs crossed over at the ankles comfortably.

When he starts to fiddle with the hem of his shirt nervously, you speak up deeming him desperate enough with his cheeks a magnificent dark pink. “What're your limits, Cheolie?”

The nickname is new but he likes it. It feels fitting somehow.

“Uh.” He has to stop and think for a moment. He isn't sure exactly what his limits are for certain in this situation because he doesn't know what he likes in the submissive role, but there are some things he knows he'll never be okay with so he starts there. “Bodily fluids outside of spit and cum.”

“So you don't mind being spat on with your own cum?”

“Uh, I mean, I think I'm okay with it,” he offers awkwardly; uncertain but trying his hardest to be open and honest.

“How about eating it?”

“Uh...I don't know about that.”

“Okay.” You easily accept his response and move on. “What else? Pain?”

“I don't know; I've never received it before. If you want to try it I'm willing just… not too intense.”

“Hmm, we'll see. Edging? Overstimulation?” Those options have him hesitating as he genuinely considers them both. And then, he nods slowly, shyly. “I asked a question, Seungcheol.”

“Y-yes, to both.”

“Good, because that's my favourite thing to do to my little ones,” you coo. “Pick a safe word.”

“Uh, can we use the traffic light system? Red for stop, green for carry on?”

“Sure thing,” you agree easily; it was familiar enough to you after all. “What do you use for uncertain? Some people say yellow, some orange, some amber.”

“Whatever.”

“Pick one,” it's a demand he quickly obeys.

“Amber.”

“Good boy.” He visibly preens a little at the praise, which you make a mental note of. “Are you clean? Sexually, I mean?”

“Yes.”

“And that's a recent test since your last sexual partner?”

“Yes.”

“Good, I won't touch you without that confirmation and luckily, I trust you to be honest so you don't need to show me proof like I usually demand.”

“You trust me?” He asks softly, awed by the words and the weight they carry.

You hum and nod in confirmation. “More than anyone else.”

“Oh.” He smiles down at his hands happily. “I feel the same about you too.”

“I imagine so, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't be willing to do this if you didn't,” you tease.

“Ah, yeah, true.” He chuckles and rubs his neck shyly.

You let him stew in his minor embarrassment for a second before talking again. “Degradation?” He looks up at you at that. “How do you feel about that?”

“I might cry,” he admits honestly, making you laugh a little at the blunt way he speaks the words. “I don't like being called names or looked down on.”

“Okay, baby, none of that,” you assure.

“Thank you.”

“Mm, of course, I have to make this good for you too. And I do love that you use your manners without being prompted. Such a good boy, huh?” His eyes round out again at you and the semi-casual air between you dissipating with your slightly teasing tone. “Are you going to be a good boy for me, Cheolie?”

“Yes, I'll be good for you.”

“Then strip.” He blinks at you a few times at the abrupt demand; the way your tone changes from light to borderline hard with no room for arguments.

Slowly, Seungcheol's slightly shaky fingers first remove his tie, and then his shirt, exposing his broad, muscle-thick torso to you. He knows he looks good, that his body is worth ogling but your dark eyes still make him feel shy.

Still, he continues, his top half entirely bare and moving onto his belt.

Something about the way he opens it and pulls it free from the loops of his slacks is really attractive to you. You can easily imagine him teasing his own sub as he removes his belt before grabbing the ends to turn it on their backside when he bends them over. Maybe you could break for him too; if he turns out to be a good enough fuck this time that is.

For now, you're more than content to watch him open his button and zipper and let his trousers drop to his ankles. He bends down to remove them from around his feet, taking his socks off too and then he straightens up and looks at you. You can tell he's hesitant to remove his boxers by the way his fingers fiddle with the waistband over his hips for a few seconds.

There's a part of you that wants to let him off easy for now and allow him to keep his boxers on for a little while. But the bigger part of you really doesn't want to do that so you continue to silently watch him.

Seungcheol lowers his head to look down at his underwear for a second, then he looks at you through his eyelashes still hoping you'll take pity on him. You don't. So he looks back down as he takes a long breath in before he hooks his thumbs under the elastic band and starts to push the material down.

You watch with rapt attention as the final piece of the beautiful, thick-built puzzle that is Choi Seungcheol is revealed to you inch by glorious inch. You have to admit, he's fucking gorgeous and it does a lot to you. Makes you throb between your thighs as they clench for a second while he's distracted focusing on removing his boxers from his legs.

And then he's entirely bare and looking at you shyly, fingers on his right hand picking at the nails of his left in nervous wait.

“C'mere,” you murmur. Seungcheol stumbles over and when you nod to the floor, he slowly lowers to his knees, letting his hands hover over his rapidly hardening dick. That is like the rest of him; thick and unfairly beautiful.

At this rate, you can't tell who is going to ruin who.

“Don't hide from me.” You unfold your legs just to gently tap at his hands with your socked foot before settling it flat on the floor beside his left knee.

A little reluctantly, Seungcheol moves his hands aside to place them on the tops of his thighs and allow you the full view of his kneeled form.

“Mm, much better, good boy.” The praise straightens his posture a little. “You're so beautiful, babyboy, don't deprive me of such a gorgeous view, hm?”

“Ah, fuck,” he softly breathes out; a little overwhelmed by the unexpected compliments, which he just knows are genuine from your tone and expression on him. You clearly like what you see and it makes his dick jump a little against his thigh. You smirk at the visible response; you've always known that Seungcheol loves compliments and praise but you didn't know just how much.

“Shall we even things out a little?” You suggest, already getting up to your feet in front of him.

He watches you with rapt attention as you open your trousers and shimmy them down. His gaze is too focused on the skin of your thighs coming into sight that he doesn't realise that you've pushed your panties down with your trousers to save yourself time. At least until you sit back down on the edge of the bed when the material is around your knees.

“Off,” you demand.

Seungcheol's hands immediately reach out to hook his fingers over the combined waistbands and pull them off of your slightly raised legs. It's when he's setting them aside that he notices the white material inside of the black of your trousers and freezes.

Mindlessly, he moves one hand to pull on the white material and quickly looks at you with wide eyes and his mouth parted. You just raise an eyebrow in return, silently prompting him to snap back to his task and move the material aside entirely so that he can carefully remove your socks too.

“Good boy.”

Just to tease, you sit there for a good almost twenty seconds with your legs closed most of the way, just the slightest gap between your thighs but it's not big enough for him to see anything but a dark shadow.

To your surprise, he actually gives in first. “Please?” He begs softly, looking up at you pleadingly. “Please let me see your pussy.”

“Oh, how can I refuse such good manners?” You coo and spread your legs causing his gaze to drop back down between them. Though he whines when he realises that your shirt is long enough to mostly cover you and shadow the rest. “You make such cute sounds, Cheolie.”

“Don't tease me,” he complains.

“I'll do what I want and you'll be grateful for it.” He presses his lips together looking fully scolded and stares at you in wait. He's impatient, that's very obvious but he's doing his best to stick to this new dynamic.

Honestly, he's taking to it a lot better than you had expected, or hoped, considering all that you know about Choi Seungcheol; so instead of prolonging it any longer, you lift the hem of your shirt out of the way with one hand.

Seungcheol's lips part when his eyes land back between your thighs and take in the sight of you fully exposed to him. Automatically, his hands lift with every intention of putting them on your thighs to push your legs open further while he leans in licking his lips.

But you stop him with your free hand, a finger pressed to his forehead. “I didn't say you can touch.” You grin amusedly at his dumb-aroused expression; his mouth open and tongue hanging out a little.

“Can I taste?” He requests, putting his hands back on his thighs but not leaning back. Your slightly condescending laugh makes him pout. When you nudge his forehead under your index finger, he leans back into a sulky slouch.

“Your job is to sit there and look pretty for me,” you point out, now using that same finger to trail up your inner thigh. Seungcheol's pout melts away as he watches its path intently. He audibly inhales sharply when it drags through your folds. He groans a little when he sees the shine now on the digit and wishes it was his tongue getting doused in your arousal.

Even though you very much would enjoy an orgasm or two sooner rather than later, you continue to tease yourself with one finger; barely brushing over your clit and circling your hole but never pushing in. It's more to tease Seungcheol and the squirming of his body perhaps turns you on more than your own actions.

Either way, when you do finally give in and plunge your finger inside, you're wet enough that it's more than easy and honestly, not very satisfying past the initial relief of having something in you finally.

Though that relief passes very quickly so soon you're adding a second finger and watching Seungcheol chew on his bottom lip hard enough that you think he's going to break skin any second. You really don't want that, so you pull your fingers out and reach towards him. The speed at which he leans it with his mouth opening genuinely makes you laugh.

“Oh, baby, you are desperate, huh?” You tease and adjust your hand so that your thumb presses against his bottom lip and your slick fingers are not close enough to his mouth to get even the hint of a taste. “You're not getting a taste, I just don't want you to hurt those pretty lips.” The expression he lands on you is utterly heartbroken. “Stop biting or I'll gag you, understand?”

“I...I understand,” he agrees, so you let him go and return your fingers back to yourself, though Seungcheol doesn't lean back. In this position, his head is pretty much between your knees, which you spread a little wider and he takes as permission to scoot a little closer. You don't mind at all, he'll just be teasing himself more with a closer view after all.

Your intention with fingering yourself isn't to reach orgasm at all, mostly you just want to tease Seungcheol by showing him what he can't have, though you also do want to prepare yourself. When you're able to easily take three fingers, you remove them and get up.

“Wh-where are you going?” He worries, hands lifting from his thighs but only hovering a few inches away from his own body. He wants to reach out and stop you from walking away but he knows he can't. You still haven't given him permission to touch yet and he really doesn't want to be scolded again, let alone face any kind of punishment you may give him if he disobeys a direct order. He's horny, not stupid.

“I'll be right back, just sit there and wait like a good boy, sweetheart,” your voice is gentle in order to soothe him that you are, in fact, not planning to actually leave and end things here as he fears.

You quickly grab something from a case in the chest of drawers before returning. You sit back down and open your thighs again, but Seungcheol's gaze is glued to the pale blue dildo in your hand.

“What do you think?” You muse, leaning down to hold it near to his erection in comparison. “Ah, not quite as thick as you.” You sigh dramatically and straighten back up. “That's a shame; it's as close as I've got though, so it'll have to do.” You pout theatrically as you trace the tip of the silicone toy over your slick folds; it's a little cold and jarring but you do your best to ignore it. Besides, the temperature difference isn't something you're entirely against.

Vaguely, you wonder if Seungcheol would be into temperature play; you've never tried it before but you've always been interested in both giving and receiving.

Seungcheol wants to make a retort, say that instead of settling for a toy that wouldn't stretch you like his thick cock would, you could just use his. He'd fuck you however you want and probably thank you for it at this point; he's throbbing with need and leaking on his thigh. He doesn't think he's ever been so fucking turned on in his life. But he can't talk, can't say a fucking thing as he watches the head of the toy breach you.

He was wrong before, now he's more turned on than he's ever been as he watches the way the girth of the toy spears you open.

Your breath catches a little so he looks up at you and once again corrects himself because your expression is what wet dreams are fucking made of. Your mouth is parted and your eyes are closed, your head tipped back slightly and your cheeks pink with pleasure.

You let out a curse under your breath so he looks back down and swears in the same fashion when he sees that you have entirely embedded the toy within you, just the slightly flared base in your fingers still.

“Fuck,” he curses again when you start to pull the toy out slowly and he sees how you've drenched it. Your eyes open to look down at him with an amused lopsided grin. He doesn't notice though, he's too entranced by the show less than a metre in front of his face.

Seungcheol doesn't notice the way he naturally moves a hand towards his crotch with the intention of soothing his aching cock, but you do. “Stop,” you demand, stopping your own motions of fucking into yourself slowly to let yourself get used to the toy's length and girth fully.

“Huh?” He looks up at you confused with his mouth wide open.

“I didn't give you permission to touch your cock, Seungcheol.”

“What?” He looks down and notices the hand inches from his dick. “Oh.” He hesitates but obediently puts his hand back on his thigh before looking up at you shyly. “I-I didn't realise. I'm sorry.”

“Feeling that needy?” You smirk and get back to fucking yourself on the toy. He lets out a sound, a mix between a whimper and a groan as he looks back down at your pussy. “Answer me.”

“Yes. Yes, I've never been this turned on before,” he admits in a rush of syllables. “Wanna fuck you so much,” he whines, fingers curling into fists which he presses down onto his thighs almost harshly in an attempt to behave for you.

He wants to be good for you. Wants to be your good boy. But it's so fucking hard when you look so fucking good. Look like your pussy would take him so well and make a fucking mess of him.

All he wants is to get up, throw that toy aside and sink his cock into you and feel your slick, heated walls around him. He's fucking convinced that your pussy would be perfect for him.

But he can't, and that's really hard for him to accept and handle when he's usually the one in charge during sex.

“Think you can make me feel better than this?” You taunt a little and pick up speed, letting your pleasure show through with little pleased sounds that really do not help Seungcheol's self-control at all. He moves a little closer yet doesn't touch either of you the way he wants to.

He's obviously trying his hardest and that, you think, is more than enough when honestly, you really want his cock in you as much as he wants to put it in you.

“Yes,” there's not an ounce of hesitation in his answer, he's entirely confident in his abilities, in his thick cock.

Usually, you'd roll your eyes and dismiss that confidence from a man because they're notoriously cocky with nothing to back up their claims. Part of the reason you got into domming is because men don't know how to use their dicks, so you always get more pleasure when you're on top and controlling how your walls are pummelled.

But there's something about Seungcheol that tells you that he's not like other men. He can and will fuck you right given the chance. Still, you want to be on top in every way.

“Big talk, little one.” You huff a laugh, most of your breath affected by the pleasure of the toy you're using to hit all of those good spots inside of you with every thrust. You're not being as rough as you could be, as you often tend to be when you feel like this, but you're talking and know that you have no space left in your chest for words when you truly fuck yourself.

“Let me prove it,” he pleads. “Please, just let me fuck you and I promise you'll cum hard.”

“I'll cum hard regardless,” you hum. His expression twists in displeasure knowing that you are truly dismissing his offer. “Maybe another time,” you counteroffer, not liking that downtrodden expression at all.

He looks up at you with hope glistening his dark gaze. “Yeah?” He asks with a surprised exhale.

“If you do good enough for me this time.” You pull the toy out and point it at him. Seungcheol eyes it and licks his lips. “What? You wanna suck it?” You taunt.

“Wanna taste you,” he murmurs.

“Enough to suck my cock?”

He glances up at you then looks back down and nods, licking his lips again. “Yeah, can I? Please?”

“Seeing as you asked so nicely,” you approve and touch the silicone toy to his bottom lip.

Seungcheol's tongue immediately darts out to pass over the silicone and get his first taste of you. His eyes roll back and he groans before he very enthusiastically starts to drag his mouth over the toy. He moves up the length along every side, not actually putting the toy into his mouth really, but this is absurdly hot enough as it is.

It turns you on much more than you had anticipated seeing this handsome man pretty much going feral for your taste that he'll messily lave his tongue over the dildo with his eyes closed in bliss and constant streams of groans of approval vibrating out of his throat.

And when he moves back to the tip and wraps his lips around it, genuinely sucking on the fake-cock, well that's as much as you can handle. You pull it away without warning creating a pop before Seungcheol looks at you half dazed, half betrayed with a smidge of confusion.

“Get on the bed,” you demand, getting up and walking around to one side of the bed while unbuttoning your shirt.

Seungcheol doesn't even have to think; there's no mental input on his behalf as he jumps up. His legs almost give out under him as the blood rushes back into his limbs after sitting on them in one position for a prolonged period, but he powers through to practically throw himself onto the mattress.

“On your back.” He crawls and shuffles until he's on his back with his head on the pillows and chest rising and falling heavily already in anticipation.

Seungcheol's heavy gaze remains on you as you reveal your body entirely. He lets out a shaky exhale when you're fully bare and climbing up onto the mattress at his left. “You're beautiful,” he says in a tone that is far too affectionate for what is going on here.

It makes you pause for a moment and look carefully at his gaze. He still looks ridiculously horny but there's something else there now; a touch of fond that genuinely sort of worries you.

Of course, you are fond of Seungcheol; he's a very precious friend to you but your feelings don't extend further than that, further than platonic and sexual. You really hope that the fondness you see is nothing more than a reflection of your own feelings and nothing more. Him having romantic feelings could certainly complicate matters more than adding sex into the mix will.

Sex you can navigate with your eyes closed, but feelings? That's an entirely different circus.

“Are you going to sit on my face?” His hopeful tone brings you back to reality. He hasn't even noticed your hesitation for what it truly is and just assumes you're teasing him further.

“Not today,” you answer, silently deciding to just give you both what you want right now and have an actual discussion later when you're both not horny messes.

“Oh.” His lips purse into a pout but then you retrieve a condom from the side table drawer and he lights up again. “Oh!” You let out a soft amused sound at his excited reaction and straddle his thighs while opening the wrapper. “Can I touch myself?” You give him an unimpressed look. “Just to help!” He assures.

“Mm, sure, I'll allow that,” you agree. Seungcheol has his dick in hand as soon as the words are slipping from your lips and holding it upright for you. You notice the way he shudders a little at his own touch on his aching cock and don't berate him for the subtle stroke he gives himself as he rolls the rubber down his length once you put it at his tip. “Good boy,” you hum, tossing the foil aside carelessly.

“For you,” he answers, wide eyes watching as you move up his body to hover over his length that he's still holding upright. “Please.” He doesn't even realise he says it, but you do and decide you've both waited more than long enough.

As soon as you start to slide down his cock, Seungcheol's eyes roll back and his hands fly out to grip your hips tightly. It feels pretty nice so you allow it, at least for now, it's kind of stabilising to have his strong grasp centring you while his cock splits you open.

Although it hadn't looked that much bigger than your toy, you can certainly feel the difference in girth right now. Plus the fact that Seungcheol is so fucking hard in you compared to the slight give of the toy, well you're already so close to an orgasm it's kind of ridiculous.

It takes you both a handful of seconds of heavy breathing to gather yourselves when you're fully impaled on his length and seated on his hips. You don't even try to keep any weight off of him; you're certain he can handle it and even if you weren't, your legs are already weak enough from the feeling of him stretching you out even still like this that you doubt you could hold yourself up if you tried.

You haven't realised that your eyes had closed until you've got some of your breath back, enough to have a mind clear enough to want to look down at him. His eyes are closed; he's struggling more than you, which doesn't surprise you considering how you hadn't allowed him any touch until now.

Carefully, you remove Seungcheol's grip from your hips and lean over to pin his hands up by his head. The new angle has his cock hitting a delicious spot within you and you can't help but grind down against him to gain friction against it. This angle also means that your clit is rubbing against his body with every roll of your hips.

Seungcheol barely manages to open his eyes and look at you before they roll back again with pleasure as you moan over him, fingers gripping onto his wrists with your full weight. He doesn't mind at all, doesn't really register it considering you're so wet and hot and tight around him that he truly cannot focus on anything else. Yet even if he could register it, he wouldn't give a single fuck. You could crush him and he'd be into it right now.

“D-don't cum,” you order when you feel your orgasm right on the brink, eyes opening to peer down at him. His own fly open in pained disbelief. “Un-fuck-understand, Seungcheol?” He whines but nods obediently. The agreement of restraint sends you over. Pleasure shocks through your body making it jerk a little, mouth open with broken higher-pitched moans coming out.

Seungcheol's whole body tenses and his face screws up tightly as you clamp down around him. He's never fought an orgasm before but you told him not to cum and he's not going to let you down now.

He's shaking by the time you slump over him, forehead dropping to his shoulder as you fight to suck air back into your lungs, just the occasional tiny twitch of your hips when a fresh lick of pleasure shoots through you with the aftershocks of an intense orgasm.

“Did you cum?” You check another few moments later.

It takes Seungcheol a few attempts to answer, just grunts coming out at first but you wait patiently. “No,” he manages while flexing his fingers to give him something else to focus on.

“Good boy,” you praise and press a kiss to his neck. His breath catches at the unexpected action but then you do it again, and again, and again as you adjust yourself while leaning up to look down at him with your hands now on the mattress and not pressing down against his wrists in a tight grip.

You take a look at them and are relieved that there's only slight redness right now, so you're pretty sure he won't bruise. Still, you'll keep an eye on it just in case.

“You did so well, Cheolie.” You hum and cup his jaw. His lip trembles a little, eyes so big on you and soaking in the praise. It helps his shaking lessen as he relaxes from doing his utmost not to cum with the fluttering of your walls around him. “Think you can hold out longer for me, baby?”

“I...ye-yeah.” He isn't sure but he's sure he'll try his best for you. He really wants to be your good boy. Your best boy.

“Yeah?” You smile softly, pleased. He nods and smiles back a little in a natural reaction to seeing you happy with him. “That's my boy.” You tap his nose, then straighten up to sit on his hips with your hands on his solid abs. “I'm going to ride you now, okay baby?”

He nods shakily and sticks his hands under the pillow to grip it. “O-okay.”

“Colour?” He blinks at you confusedly a few times. “What colour are you right now, sweetheart?”

“Oh, green,” he answers. “Green.” The repetition makes your lips quirk up. It's oddly endearing that he's assuring you right now considering he's the one missing an orgasm.

“Good, tell me if that changes, okay?” He nods. You let him get away with not verbally responding this time and start to lift yourself up.

Seungcheol's gaze falls to watch his length appear from your dripping pussy utterly mesmerised. Up until you abruptly drop yourself back down, ass smacking down on his upper thighs audibly.

A loud, low moan tears from his open mouth as his back arches upwards. He looks fucking beautiful like this. You have to keep making him do that so you don't hesitate to lift and drop in the very same way; taking up a punishing rhythm that has his cock dragging against your walls in the most incredible of ways.

Honestly, you're half convinced his cock just being in you has you halfway to a constant orgasm because that ball in your lower stomach winds up tight so fucking quickly that you barely register it until it's there, urging you over but this isn't quite enough for you. You need clitoral stimulation but you don't think it's wise to give it to yourself right now with Seungcheol buried within you and his body trembling as he still holds back with everything in him.

At this point, he's babbling a little in amongst his constant stream of porn-worthy moans. You're not quite sure what he's saying really, you're not sure that he even knows what he's saying either.

If you cum with him inside you, you're positive that he will too regardless of your words so you pull off of him. His eyes instantly fly open in alarm and he looks at you as he lifts his head up. You just settle down again along his latex-covered cock to grind along the length.

He gasps and shudders watching his cock peek out through your slick folds. “Please, please,” he begs; his babbles now making sense while he's not overwhelmed with the feeling of you squeezing around him.

This is still a lot for him but he's much more able to be a good boy for you now. He really wants to make you proud of him. He doesn't want you to think he's a bad boy for cumming without permission, because then you won't play with him again and he really doesn't want that. He wants to be your good boy. Your only good boy.

You know what he's begging for even if he doesn't voice it. You'll make him say it in a minute but right now you're seconds from a second orgasm and unless he says red you're not going to stop.

Even though the orgasm is yours entirely, Seungcheol moans when you do as he watches your face contort with utter bliss as your hips jerk over his length a few more times before falling still. It's not quite as powerful as your first orgasm, not when you're empty, but it's still intense and leaves you breathless.

Initially, you had planned to give yourself many more orgasms before letting Seungcheol cum but you genuinely think if you draw more than one more out of yourself, you'll pass out. You don't know if it's because it's been a while and you've been so pent up that it feels so mind-numbingly incredible, or if it's because of the thick cock pressed up against you.

“Colour?” You pant out when you feel ready to go again, eyes landing on Seungcheol.

He doesn't hesitate to answer this time but he finally sounds wrecked, voice hoarse and cracking a little with the simple single-syllable response. “Green.”

“Okay.” You push up and gently lift his cock up to line with you, applying as little pressure as possible to try not to give him too much too soon and overwhelm him in the wrong way. “Positive?” He nods rapidly so you begin to impale yourself again. His breaths come in one long juddering inhale as you slide down his length until he's sheathed inside of you.

“Please,” he goes right back to pleading, levelling you with such a begging, wet gaze that you know that this will not last long at all.

“Please what, baby?” You question, lifting to ride him slowly, now focused on him and him alone yet not wanting to push him over too fast. He looks too pretty like this; skin blotched with reds and pinks in a way that makes you wish you had discussed marks beforehand so that you could leave some lovebites on his pecs.

But you hadn't, and asking for permission at this point is utterly pointless, Seungcheol is too gone to be able to give full consent to anything new. You're pretty sure he'd say yes to anything right now so long as he can cum.

“Lemmecum.”

“Hm? What was that, speak clearly.”

Seungcheol whines and sniffles. “I wanna c-cum. P-please.” He blinks rapidly as the tears gathering in his eyes overflow and spill down his temples onto the pillow under him. “Please-please l-let me c-cum,” he chokes out, close to full-on sobbing.

You give in. You want to make him cry, not sob his poor heart out, after all. “You can cum,” you consent.

Seungcheol freezes for a split second in genuine shock, but then his eyes roll back and his back bows, biceps bulging as he grips the pillow so tight and pulls it up a little with the strength of his orgasm. He almost yells your name he moans so loud in pleasure and relief as the intense climax takes over his body.

You continue to move on him slowly to ride him through it, and then a little out the other side when he flops back against the sheets and raggedly sucks in harsh breaths with only short exhales. You'd continue with the intention to overstimulate him if he wasn't laid utterly boneless and not even reacting to you anymore. It's boring to overstimulate someone with no response, after all.

He doesn't even react when you carefully pull off of him and remove the condom to tie off and dispose of in the bin beside your bedside table. You stand beside the bed on weak legs for a second to watch him in wonder and decide that he truly is too out of it right now to even notice your presence; so you dart off to get a large glass of water and drink some yourself, and a damp cloth before returning.

Seungcheol is still lying there with his eyes closed though his breathing is evening out now when you place the cup on the side table and sit on the bed at his side. You carefully start to run the cloth over his sweat-damp body; a shower is really needed but that can wait a little.

Seungcheol makes a soft noise but doesn't react otherwise.

Finally, he opens his eyes when you return from taking the cloth back to the bathroom to toss into the hamper where you also clean between your thighs quickly.

“Hey,” you greet softly, laying down on your right propped up on your elbow at his side to look down at him as your left hand soothes over his chest.

“Hi.” He smiles softly at you, then tiredly rolls over to tuck up against you. You smile at the cute action and turn onto your back to allow him to curl up against your side with his head on your chest, his right arm and leg over you keeping you there. Not that you have any intention to move quite yet.

This is nice.

Your right arm goes around his back and into his hair to play with the strands while your left hand rubs over his forearm, gentle yet firm enough that he knows you're here and not going anywhere. “How're you feeling, sweetheart?”

“Tired,” he mumbles, making you laugh softly.

“Just tired?” He hums in confirmation. “So you're good otherwise? It wasn't too much?”

“No. M'good,” he slurs a little, signalling that he truly is tired enough that sleep is already starting to claim him.

“Yeah, you are. My good boy, huh?” You tease lightly and press a kiss to the top of his head. You're pretty sure you can feel his cheek bunch up against your skin as he smiles in return.

“Your good boy,” he confirms, voice so thick that you know there's no point trying to get him up to shower or eat, even drink despite knowing he really should. It'll have to wait until he wakes.

“Mm, yeah, sleep now baby, we'll talk more later,” you reply, though you're certain he's too close to slumber to really catch the warning.

Regardless, you know that once he's awake and you're certain that he's still genuinely okay, clean and fed, you'll have to talk. A lot has changed in such a short time and hopefully, he will confirm that it's nothing more than sex for him too because the alternative has dread pooling in your gut.

You can't do this again if it's not entirely equal and you kind of have the feeling that there's no going back now that you've had each other like this. Yet, if you can't go forward because of potential feelings on his side, then you're well and truly fucked and not in the way either of you want to be.

Still, that's not something you can discuss right now so you follow Seungcheol's lead and close your eyes. You just hope that when you open them, everything will be alright.

#wkcnet #svthub #seventeen smut #seventeen reader insert #seventeen seungcheol smut #seventeen seungcheol x reader #seventeen scoups smut #seventeen fanfiction #seventeen fic #seventeen x reader #seungcheol x reader #scoups smut #scoups x reader #seungcheol smut #svt smut #seventeen sub seungcheol smut

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cryiling · 5 months ago

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thinking about that bkdk edating in middle school trope, except they're amino boyfriends 💀

they meet on an all might amino community. katsuki is one of the community mods, and izuku is the leader of an analysis club on there. izuku's posts were often featured and very popular in the community (he was def a microcelebrity), and katsuki always gave him a ton of amino coins on his posts.

for a challenge he's hosting for his club, izuku makes a huge deep-dive post analyzing all might's rise to fame in his bronze age. this post gets close to 10k likes, and katsuki gifts him 5k amino coins on the post. when izuku sees that number, he freaks out and assumes it must be a mistake since that's a huge number, who in their right mind would give him that much money??

he messages katsuki (who's username is 𝓓𝔂𝓷𝓪𝓶𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 ⛓️💥) (LMAOOOOO) and asks if the amount of coins was a mistake + offers to give them back. katsuki tells him that there was no mistake, and that he just really liked izuku's post. izuku is really flattered that this guy liked his analysis so much, and they continue texting back and forth for a while.

they follow each other and put each other in their bios under "bffs," and a month or two after that, they officially become boyfriends. izuku buys amino+ using all the coins katsuki had given him (katsuki keeps spending his allowance to buy more amino coins so he's super rich). they start matching profile themes after that, switching to a new theme every month. they have matching profile frames and chat bubbles and everything, and izuku makes a sticker pack of all might faces to use when texting katsuki (sometimes katsuki uses the stickers too, but only when texting izuku)

everyone on all might amino knows they're dating, since they're both such high-profile people in the community. they become the community's it-couple, and people love commenting on their walls how cute their matching profiles are. katsuki comments under all of izuku's posts praising his analysis, and izuku always replies with a string of all might heart-eye stickers.

6 months into their relationship, izuku tells katsuki he can call him by his real name. up until now, izuku had gone by the nickname "golden" in honor of all might's golden age. when izuku tells katsuki his name, though, he doesn't get a response. the next day, izuku wakes up to find that katsuki's profile has been deleted entirely.

izuku feels like throwing up. he doesn't know what happened to dynamight, if he caused this, what could have caused this. he debates deleting his account too, ashamed and confused and hurt, but ultimately decides against it. he changes his profile theme back to an aesthetic picture set of all might in his iconic golden age pose, and continues posting on all might amino as if nothing happened. he doesn't reach out to new people on amino again.

when izuku gets into ua and his workload drastically increases, he stops finding time to post on amino, eventually deleting the app entirely (his profile stays up, though).

in second year, izuku is sitting in the common room with his friends, somehow having been roped into a conversation about dating. "you've never been in a relationship before, have you, deku-kun?" uraraka asks him.

his friends' eyes all focus on him, and he blushes. "well, i had an online boyfriend in middle school, but i'm not sure if that counts." his friends gape at him, clearly surprised. some other people lingering about in the common area also tune into the conversation. katsuki is one of them.

"really, midoriya-kun?" iida says, doing his best to hide his blatant shock. "i must say, that sounds rather out of character for you!"

"did you guys break up or something?" todoroki asks.

izuku grimaces, remembering what happened. "i told him my real name, and then he deleted his account. i think it was because of my name, but I guess i don't know for sure."

uraraka frowns. "that sucks! he didn't deserve you anyway. what an asshole move." the rest of izuku's friends nod in agreement at that. out of the corner of his eye, izuku sees katsuki get up from his armchair and storm out of the room.

months later, izuku and katsuki finally start dating for real. izuku is so overwhelmed with happiness, and katsuki's eyes light up every time he sees izuku. one night, though, katsuki pulls him aside. "there's something i need to tell you."

izuku frowns in confusion. "what's up?"

katsuki takes a deep breath. "...i'm dynamight."

this does not clear izuku's confusion. "um... yeah, i know what your hero name is."

"no, it's-" katsuki cuts himself off, then starts again. "i was dynamight on amino, too."

izuku feels his heart drop. he's not sure what katsuki is saying, why he's bringing it up. "you... we were... you mean we dated back in middle school?"

katsuki nods, eyes on the floor. he doesn't say anything else.

"why did you..." izuku licks his lips in apprehension. "why did you delete your account?"

katsuki is silent for a moment. "i freaked out when i found out who you were," he finally says. "i mean, you know how i was treating you in real life back then. and we had been texting all that time, and i had been comforting you from the bullying you were going through, only to realize it was me who was- i didn't... i didn't know what to say. and obviously i was really immature at the time and wasn't ready to process my feelings yet. but that whole thing helped me realize my feelings for you, even though i didn't want to accept that at the time.

"but," katsuki continues, clearly on a roll now, "that still doesn't excuse what i did. it was a shitty move. and i know i've apologized for how i bullied you before, but i'm sorry for this, too, izuku. i know i hurt your feelings. i swear i'll be a better boyfriend this time, i promise. uh- only if... if you still want to be together."

izuku can't even think of what to say for a moment, still silently reeling at katsuki's confession. eventually he says, "no, i- i get it. we were both pretty immature at the time, and to be honest i kind of got over it a while ago. but," he smiles, "that apology really means a lot to me. and of course i still want to be with you."

he leans in to kiss katsuki briefly. izuku doesn't think he'll ever get used to that.

katsuki rests his forehead against izuku's, eyes taking in izuku's face. "i swear i'll be an even better boyfriend than dynamight was, golden."

and then they lived happily ever after :>

#LMAOO WHY DID THIS POST GET SO LONG IM SORRY #stoppp i put this into a google doc why did i write over 1k words for this im dead #can u guys tell I was an amino girly back in the day #i was never in an amino relationship but i did have 2 friends who were edating each other #they had a rlly bad breakup tho idk what happened </3 i felt like a child of divorce #anyways this au is entirely self-indulgent ive literally been obsessed with the edating aus lately. eating UP all those tiktoks #mha #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #bakugou katsuki #izuku midoriya #bakudeku #bkdk #dkbk #dekubaku #i can't believe im regularly posting bkdk headcanons on here now LMAOO what happened to my revalink hc era #but lowk its so fun to be back into posting abt my silly little headcanons. i miss the revalink community tho :( shoutout to my rvlnk moots

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sinnabum45 · 7 months ago

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Wright family 💕

[Image description: gray tone digital comic of Ace Attorney characters, Phoenix Wright and Trucy Wright. Page one: Trucy is 8 years old and she peaks into the kitchen to see Phonix slumped over the table with alcohol around him. He is crying and she watches from behind the wall. She moves away and starts crying, too. Text: “Daddy… Daddy is sad again…” Page two: Trucy looks up and clenches her fist with a determined look on her face. Text: “ I have to help Daddy become happy again! I will help daddy, then he won’t leave me!” She silently cheers with her arms up. Time passes and Trucy is fourteen. She is holding a wine bottle that Phoenix had hidden. Page three: Trucy looks at the bottle with sadness while Phoenix looks away feeling guilty. There are double boxes for the texts: “I’m sorry… I’m not good enough.” Page four: the comic is now fully colored. Time passes and Phoenix is putting his attorney’s badge onto his suit. Trucy is looking at him smiling. Phoenix turns to her and smiles back. Page five: Trucy hugs Phoenix with tears in her eyes. Phoenix hugs her back and is now crying. He says,” I’m sorry, Trucy… Daddy’s put you through a lot.” Page six: Phoenix and Trucy and smiling at each other with tears in their eyes. There are double bubbles with texts: “I love you.” End description.]

Links to help Palestine and other resources! 🇵🇸

[Plain text: Links to help Palestine and other resources! (palestine flag). End plain text.]

I have a lot of thoughts about the Wright family. Especially Trucy's experience being adopted suddenly after her father abandons her. I wanted to go into more detail about how the events in her life might have affect her, but that would've been very long-- I rarely see anyone bring it up (I could just not be seeing them of course). Her father abandoning her, then having to move in with a stranger (at first), then having to also live with and depend on Phoenix, who is struggling with his mental and physical health, and also being used by Kristoph and her adoptive dad in a way (making her turn in falsified evidence, help cheat for gambling, etc.). Also the fact that her mother disappeared and her bio dad literally getting murdered. There's so much more that happens to Trucy like-- BRUH give her a break 😭 I just feel like maybe these reasons are why she comes off like she has to shoulder a lot of responsibilities even though she is a child. She kind of takes on the parental role of scolding Phoenix when he drinks.

Of course, I don't blame Phoenix for struggling since he was also going through shit. I just also feel for Trucy as well 😢 Not every family is perfect, which is why I like how their family is portrayed! Even though they're struggling, they still know that they love each other and can depend on each other. It's still not fair to Trucy that she has to live/deal with the adults around her's mistakes and choices. I feel like she has a lot of trauma to unpack and heal from. I think that's also important to remember as well. Phoenix may not have been the best dad, but he tries and they love each other so much 😭🤲💕💕 I just love their dynamic. Especially how quick Phoenix just jumps into the father role 🥺

#ace attorney #ace attorney fanart #phoenix wright #trucy wright #wright family #art #digital art #my art #fanart #SinnaArt #reblogging is okay!#I hope my thoughts were articulated well enough--

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therealflickerman · 8 months ago

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Split Lips (tasm!peter parker x reader)

Part one

series summary: Its simple hating peter parker, the cocky asshole who has made it his mission to one up you every chance he gets. In the same vein, its simple loving spiderman, the sweet masked vigilante who has made it his mission to ensure your safety. How simple will it be when the two worlds meet.

______________________________________________________________

chapter summary: you finally get the chance to one up peter and officially have the honour of meeting the friendly neighbourhood spiderman that everyone has been talking about.

word count: 2.3k

contents: reader is intended to be fem! (she's briefly described as such in this chapter), possible emetophobia warning?, tiny blood warning, language, a little banter and a little fluff, possible OOC peter? idk..., reader is anxious and clumbsy #selfprojecting, i'm not american which means i may get things wrong, please bare with me!!.

note: this is my first fic ever but let me cook!! thank u charlie for editing.

masterlist

series masterlist

chapter one / chapter two / chapter three / chapter four (ongoing!)

Your lip sits between your teeth, occupying them with the task of removing dead skin, it was a poor habit, something you’d done to settle nerves from a young age. You’re sure you’ll draw blood any second now as Miss Ritter works her way around the classroom, handing test results to uninterested students. A large part of you envies the way their eyes merely skim the front page of the test paper, you could only pray to care that little.

Your teeth continue their assault on your lip as you feel the usual pair of eyes boring into the side of your head. You truly do almost entertain the idea of meeting his gaze but you can’t bring yourself to give him the satisfaction.

“You’re gonna have an aneurysm over there if you don’t chill out”

You’re not entirely sure what you did to deserve a seat next to Peter Parker, but every day for the past month you’d apologised to all possible gods for whatever sin it was that you had committed.

You avoid his gaze and he lets out a humoured scoff.

Your foot taps against the floor as Miss Ritter now approaches your desk. She stands in front of you sorting through the test papers antagonising slowly, and for a second you’re sure she's teasing.

“Well done” She offers a sweet smile, although it goes unnoticed as you scramble to pick up the paper from your desk.

98%

Your eyes meet Peters,

“What did you get,” you ask, your lips leave your teeth for the first time that period and you try to suppress the cocky grin growing on your face but you’re not sure it’s possible. You watch his smirk widen and for a moment you feel yours falter.

“96%”

A laugh of relief bubbles from your chest,

“Thank you god,” you tease and your laughter dies down.

You’re met with an eye roll.

"What happened to the bravado, huh?" You give him a light poke in the arm, teasingly.

"Ouch... okay, I get it," he grumbles, his brows furrow slightly, though a hint of a smile remains on his lips.

“We have a bio test on Monday don’t get so cocky”

You shrug dismissively as you flip through your test results.

______________________________________________________________

You’re just about done with everything.

Work had practically doubled after your coworker had puked all over the break room, leaving you to scrub her throw-up from the divots in the tiled floor, and cover the two hours she had left of her shift.

You swore you could still smell it.

You shift from foot to foot, feeling suffocated in the subway. It's packed to the brim with football fans, dressed in the colours of their respective teams and once again you’re apologising to any and all gods out there for whatever you did to deserve this.

You’re so very close to getting your elbows involved as you push through the crowds, making it off the subway several stops early, to simply give yourself a moment of peace.

Making it to a familiar back street you take a moment to check your watch, the long hand sits just after six and the shorter one points between ten and eleven.

Silently, you curse your stupid, sickly coworker and your own poor decision-making. Your feet throb against the leather of your work shoes and you almost begin to miss the subway's scent of beer breath and football stand food.

Your teeth catch your lip again, this time they draw blood and you wince at the sudden stinging.

“Shit” you groan in a hushed whisper, you curse the habit as you bring your hand to your lip, examining the damage. A drop of red colours your fingertip as you touch it to the nick and pull it away so you can see.

You roll your eyes at your luck and rub the blood from your fingers before continuing with your walk, wishing you’d simply seen the subway through and stayed on until a stop closer to home.

“You’re out awfully late miss”

You just about jump out of your skin at the voice. It's eerily mechanical as though it’s meant to be disguised, under the circumstances, it sends chills up your spine.

“Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me” you hold your hand to your chest in an attempt to calm the beating of your heart. You turn and your eyes meet big ovals of tinted glass, adorning a red mask. It hits you that they belong to those of Spiderman and suddenly the voice makes all the sense.

“Don’t… don’t creep up on people like that, especially not,” you pause to find the words, “unsuspecting women… alone at night” you let out awkwardly, your furrowed brows ease up as you take in a deep breath.

He lets out a small laugh from behind the mask, head tilting to the side as he manages to lock eyes with you even though you can't quite meet his gaze.

“Sorry, sorry” he lifts his hands defensively, “just making sure you’re okay”. There's a grin evident in his voice.

“No, I’m…” you let out a breath. “I’m so sorry, it’s been a rough day”, You offer an awkward smile and silently curse yourself for being an asshole to some guy that spends his life-saving people.

“Don’t stress,” he brushes it off.

‘Your…”, he raises his hand to where his lips would sit behind his mask, “... lip is bleeding.”

“Shit… yeah” you mumble, bringing your own hand to your lips. You lick your fingertip and wipe both the fresh and dried blood from the cut. You suddenly wonder how silly you may have looked with a trickle of blood gathering on the rim of your lip.

“I bite ‘em… my lips, when I’m anxious” you clarify, offering another awkward smile.

“You wanna talk about it?” he offers with a shrug, taking a step in the direction you were walking when he had first approached.

“My lip biting?” You question furrowing your brows and following his footsteps.

“Your day” he humours you.

“Right,” you let out a sheepish laugh and you feel your cheeks flush. “You do that?” you question, skipping a step to keep up.

“Do what?” he asks, his brows furrow behind the mask.

“Give out free therapy.” Your eyes lock on the ground as the two of you walk side by side.

He chuckles, “not often… I make exceptions.”

“I’ll walk you home, you just talk” he offers.

You accept the offer, quite gladly. It felt strange, though nice, talking to someone as a friend without the, ‘what do they think of me’ barrier. For all you knew you’d never see Spiderman again.

You hadn’t particularly been one for friends. Not that you hadn’t wanted them, it was rather that no one seemed to fill that hole. You’d had friends throughout middle school, some in the early stages of high school but each time you’d simply fall out of friendship, and that was that.

It was nice to talk rather than listen.

“Then my coworker, Kaylie, she threw up all over the break room,” you rambled,

Spiderman gags at the thought, ‘Not you too’ you murmur softly, though he catches what you say and lets out a chuckle.

Your lips press into a smile, satisfied with his laughter you continue your story.

“My asshole of a boss made me clean it,” you emphasise, “then made me stay back and cover her shift, now it's… what” You lift the sleeve of your jacket checking the time, “10:39 pm and Spiderman, of all people, is walking me home”. You send him a small smile with a shrug.

“Well firstly your boss sounds like a jackass” he adds, almost as if stating a fact, “but at least you got to meet Spiderman', he nudges you faintly, pulling another soft giggle from your lips. You agree with a hum and a nod, once again making eye contact with the floor.

“Oh, I got a 98 on this English test,” you add looking up at him, “so, y’know… hasn’t all been bad”.

“Wow look at you,” his grin peaks through his voice.

‘“What can I say?” you giggle with a sheepish shrug.

“Peter, this kid in my class,” you clarify, “has been one upping me all semester, and I have finally,” you emphasise, “gotten a better grade than him”.

‘We don’t like this Peter?” he asks, studying your face as you answer.

You smile at his use of ‘we’.

“He’s…” your words die on your tongue as you think for just a moment, “kind of an asshole,” you nod, “but sweet…enough” you shrug with a sweet grin and meet Spiderman’s ‘eyes’.

“He’s funny I’ll give him that”

Unbeknownst to you, Spiderman’s lips curl into a grin.

“As long as he’s being nice,” he adds.

“I don’t know if I’d say nice” you giggle.

______________________________________________________________

“Well Spidey, this is almost me” you beam, pointing to the apartment building across the street with your head, your hands are kept inside the pockets of your jacket where the cold New York air can’t reach them.

“Thanks for, you know… walking me home, letting me talk, I don’t really do that too often” you smile up at him, meeting his hidden eyes.

“What, you don't get to talk a lot? I doubt that” he laughs, watching as you roll your eyes.

A soft ‘shut up,’ rolls off your tongue with a smile. Your cheeks are flushed against the crisp of the night and you feel your grin grow.

‘I better…’ your words die on your tongue as you point to the apartment block.

He lets out a hum of approval with a short, knowing nod.

You take a step or two backwards, sending him a wave and a sweet smile, though forgetting to look both ways as you cross the seemingly empty road.

Spiderman's voice rings out as you turn, faced with a fast-paced car. The owner honks its horn, sending you an angry glare as it drives past you. You quickly place your extended foot back onto the safety of the curb and send Spidey a sheepish smile.

“You need me to carry you to bed and tuck you in?” He jokes with a shake of his head.

“I’m good thank you,” heat rushes to your cheeks and the tips of your ears, reddening them further as you turn to look both ways.

“That’s a good start” his voice rings from the other side of the street, watching you cross the road more safely this time around.

You wave him off with an eye roll, not turning to look at the vigilante as you trot to your apartment complex.

______________________________________________________________

“Is that you love?” Your mother rings out from the couch.

The apartment is dimly lit, the glow from the tv lights up your mothers features as you approach her. She sits in her pyjamas, a glass of red wine in her hand, which is expected on a friday night. ‘Dirty Dancing’ plays loudly on the TV, you’ve seen the film a million times over because it’s her favourite.

You slide your backpack off of your shoulder, lean it carefully against the couch, and collapse down next to her.

“Hi love,” your mothers lips press against your forehead, placing a soft kiss.

You hum, closing your eyes.

You feel her pull away, she replaces her lips with a hand and lets out a worried hum.

“You’re warm” her brows furrow and you feel your blush spread further.

You’re grateful she can’t see your flushed cheeks in the darkness of the apartment.

“Ran home,” you simply smile with a nod, “gonna go to bed.”

She nods, giving you a tight hug and wishing you sweet dreams.

You let your eyes close as your head lolls against the cool of your bedroom door, taking in the stillness of your room. You begin to untie your work shoes, leaving your eyes shut as you place them neatly by the doorway.

You let out a yawn, rub your eyes and stand up from the carpeted floor. Taking a seat on your neatly made bed, your hands find the buttons of your work blouse and slowly unbutton them one by one.

Your mind drifts and a smile curls onto your face as you think of the sweet, masked man that had walked you home.

You wonder about his features, the colour of his hair and skin, if his face is freckles or if he has little moles that litter his body. You wonder how old he is, if he has lived his life, seen things and loved, or if he’s young, possibly even your age. If he puts the rest of his life on the line each night he puts on the suit. You frown at the possibility.

Your teeth once again catch your lip, tongue grazing the dried metallic blood, you wince at the taste you’ve grown familiar to. Scolding yourself softly, you make a small mental note to quit the habit before putting on pyjamas and slipping into fresh sheets.

A soft smile adorns your face as you stare up at the ceiling, you realise you had forgotten to tell your mother about your English test, how you’d gotten the highest grade in the class, and you keep in mind to tell her over breakfast.

Your mind slips back to Spiderman. There's an unfamiliar tug in your chest and you selfishly wish to see him again, despite how busy he may be with truly important things. You think of his gentle nature and the gut feeling, a disgusting mix of guilt and longing, spreads.

Guilt for both wishing something from a man that wasn’t fair, and for allowing yourself this wish.

You want him to be there the next time you get a higher grade than Parker, which will hopefully be sooner than later, or the next time your coworker lets her lunch out onto the table where you sit and eat, which you pray will never happen again.

You feels a moment of guilt for your wishful thinking before rolling over to get some sleep.

#peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #spiderman #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #andrew!peter x reader #spiderman x reader #hurt comfort #spidey #fluff #academic rivals #friends to lovers #fem!reader #i wrote this instead of sleeping #peter parker x reader series #series #Split Lips series

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akaakeis · 3 months ago

Text

this is how it went.

part 2 of us without me.

cw/notes: angst,, falling out of love,, shoyo falls in love with another person while ygs are together (sorry),, named after (but not entirely based off) the beabadoobee song! || wc: 1k

your alarm clock blared, waking you up in... arguably, the worst possible way. it was a saturday, and you had the early shift at work. you begrudgingly got up, shoving your comforter aside. you pause in front of your mirror, taking in how disheveled you looked; your eyes were puffy and a tinge pink, and your hair was messed up. the events of last night all rushed back to your head as you looked at yourself.

last night...

honestly, it was a blur for you. you had gotten home around midnight from your flight, and you bawled your eyes out after you crashed into your bed. looking back on the months leading up to the break up... was it even clear that shoyo loved you?

he was distant, pulling himself away from physical affections and sweet words. after a while, all of the love filled words that you had for him died on your lips, never meeting his ears. shoyo probably wouldn't have any response to them anyway, so why would you say them?

"what are you looking at?" you'd asked him one day, peering over at his phone. you see an instagram profile- someone going by the name eden. there's a little brazilian flag in her bio, and she's your age. you don't tell him you were able to see that, though.

he looks up at you, a faint smile on his face from whatever he was looking at on his phone. he subtly pulls his phone away, replying, "nothing, just an instagram story."

how vague.

the same day, as you walk by him, you notice shoyo dming back and forth with eden. you'd guessed that he had just made a friend.

that night, at dinner, it was awfully quiet. shoyo ended up breaking the silence though, rather excited at that.

"hey, i met this girl on instagram. she lives in brazil! isn't that cool?"

so you saw the right thing.

"hmm? brazil? that's cool," you reply. "are you gonna be friends with her or something?"

he nods. "yeah, you know how there's a chance of me moving there for volleyball and all that, right? she's gonna teach me portuguese, and she'll show me around if i end up moving there."

your stomach churns at the reminder of that prospect. brazil is so far away from here.

then, another memory passes through your mind; it occurred shortly after that last memory.

"hello? oh, hey! it's so nice to finally talk to you!" you hear shoyo say excitedly. the lilt of his voice makes you turn to look at him and raise an eyebrow.

"who're you talking to?" you ask.

he doesn't answer you at first, listening to her voice on the other end of the line. then, he turns his head and mouthes to you 'eden.'

you have a visceral reaction, furrowing your eyebrows. it's weird that he's calling her. probably doesn't mean anything though.

...and here you are now. how stupid. how could you possibly think that it meant nothing? all the texting back and forth, midday calls, everything. what on earth were you thinking?

you blow air into your cheeks, zoned out as you stare at the mirror. it's been 10 minutes since you started recalling memories from last night and months before. damn mind. your eyes were watery with regret. with bubbling frustration, you harshly wipe the tears away from your face and grab your phone.

something must have possessed you that morning, because you immediately removed eden and shoyo's contacts from your phone, along with your socials. then, you called your boss. the line rings for 5 seconds, stalling. for a moment, you hope they won't answer and hear your wobbly, hoarse voice.

a click is heard, and it's followed with a short sigh. "hi, do you need something?"

you run and hand through your hair and shake your head absentmindedly, forgetting that they can't see you. you clear your throat, trying to sound as okay as possible. "no, i just wanted to call and let you know i won't be able to do the morning shift. i'm not feeling well. could i switch with someone and do the afternoon?"

there's a brief pause as your boss contemplates this. "...yeah, sure. feel better soon."

"great, thanks." click.

after the phone call ended, you slumped back onto your bed, tossing your phone to the foot of it. you felt awful. everything ached. the television, which you forgot to turn off last night, continued to drone on in the background. last night, you remembered it being the first season of fruits basket; god knows what episode. now, it was on season 2 episode 8.

irritably, you grab the remote and turn off the tv, tossing the controller to the foot of your bed as well. with a final sigh, you lay back in bed, burying yourself in your blankets.

you ended up laying in bed until about 30 minutes until your shift. you threw yourself into the shower, despite how unprepared you felt. it's not like you could bail on work.

the shift felt awfully long, too. customers were irritating, coworkers were rude, and everything seemed much too loud and bright. your bets were on shoyo and eden being home together and cooking dinner. they just wouldn't leave your mind, no matter how hard you tried.

about two hours into the shift, you get a message from the area code 11. that's são paulo. probably shoyo or eden. without looking over the message, you block the phone number. the frustration just kept bubbling up.

how could you be so stupid? naïve enough to believe that shoyo was really just becoming friends with eden?

in your mind, it was your fault you ended up getting hurt so bad. you were more upset with yourself, and you didn't really get why.

you just wanted to go to sleep. for a long, long time. until it stopped hurting. until you were no longer mad, whether at yourself or them.

not that you would be able to, anyway. this was progress right? it would take you a while to feel fully okay. but that's okay, too; you know that you'll be okay soon.

⌗ LOLL hi guys i hope you're all doing ok

⌗ it's been like two weeks since i've posted any writing i'm so sorry holy shit

⌗ i had to write a speech and a magazine article and a narrative so i fear i was still writing... just not fun things...

⌗ am i beating ai allegations rn or is my wording too fancy... (ifykyk)

⌗ idk if i did the angst justice but i tried!!

⌗ i skipped drivers ed today to write this cause i told iya i would write it (+ post but i need a proofreader SO THIS IS PROBABLY COMING OUT THE DAY AFTER IM WRITING IT) before i went to sleep tonight

⌗ booo hinata 👎👎

⌗ dw guys i'll post fluff next time I PROMISEEE

⌗ if you enjoyed this (for some reason...) please consider liking, rb-ing, following, and/or checking out my masterlist!!

🏷️ :: @laughingfcx + @chososcamgirl <3

#omori's sketchbook.#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu angst #hq angst #hinata shoyo #haikyuu hinata #hinata shoyo x reader #hq x reader #hq imagines #queued !!

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dekus-fellow-crybaby · 3 months ago

Text

Nightmare Fuel

Summary: After venturing into the woods and stumbling across a statue, Gravity Falls’ newest resident meets her worse nightmare...or maybe her scariest wet dream.

Requested by @fivvy

Warnings: NSFW. 18+ only. Minors DNI. DARK FIC! This fic contains darker themes such as manipulation, possession, violence, dub/con, and non/con! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK! Aged-up Characters, Bill x reader, Bipper x reader, slight Dipper x reader? (There's some tension), porn with plot, slight MabelxPacifica, asshole!Dipper, mind sex, mind break?, sex pollen-like symptoms?, supernatural elements, horror-like elements, fingering, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, revenge sex, choking, asphyxiation, accidental voyeurism. Lmk if I forgot anything! LAST WARNING! DARK ELEMENTS! READ AT YOUR OWN RISK AND NO MINORS!! AGES IN BIOS!! Seriously guys, it’s kinda messed up and I will block minors!

Word Count: 7.9 k

Gravity Falls. The town just west of weird. And your new home. When you were younger your family used to drive through the small, eccentric town on the way to visit family in Portland. Your parents just loved the scenic route, and the great nature of Gravity Falls was about as scenic as it got. You never stayed in the town long, but the curious corner of the world always drew you in. The people you would meet during your occasional diner stops or the stories you would hear piqued your interest. It drove you towards a love of writing and reading, just searching for vibrant characters that might match the town's local color. Which is why you decide to take a year off college and live amongst the people that initially stirred your curiosity.

Stepping off the bus, the sunlight speckles through the trees, the warmth dusting your cheeks, and you are welcomed back to the town of Gravity Falls. The scent of pine trees and maple surround you as you walk towards the town square, a suitcase rolling behind you. Checking the address on the post-it note in your hands, you make your way to the house on the edge of the woods: the Mystery Shack. It was probably more of a gamble than you should have taken to respond to the rooming ad for a place called the Mystery Shack, but it was the only available housing in the small town, so you'd just have to take your chances.

Skipping the town tour, you make your way to the tourist trap, but you take note of the town as you go. Everything seems perfectly normal. but you hoped that wouldn't remain the case. You needed something interesting to write about, something to spark a flame of inspiration in your head. So far, nothing but your new place of residence seems out of the ordinary. You make it to the Mystery Shack, surprised by the number of cars parked out front. A number of people come in and out of the house, most being led around by a dude in a suit, eyepatch, and fez. Walking closer to what you can only assume to be a tour group, you listen in on the man rifting off facts about the obviously fake attractions.

"And here we have the rock that looks like a face, dudes," the tour guide said.

"But is it a rock or is it a face?"

"No, dude, it's a rock that looks like a face," the tour guide sighs as if he got this question often. "It's-it's not an actual face." This only sparks more controversy for the guide, so you peacefully excuse yourself from the group, bypass the entrance for the indoor Mystery Museum, and trudge around to the backdoor. You're pleased to find no tourists there. From the window, you notice a few people filing around the room and you hope they were the actual residents of the house/tourist attraction. Knocking on the door, you are almost immediately met by a bubbly brunette answering with a brooding blond watching intently behind her.

"Uh, hi, I'm—"

"Are you our new roomie?!" She beams, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she ushers you in before you even give your answer. Once you’re in the room, you take in each of the girls' features. The brunette smiles at you excitedly, a pair of perfectly straight teeth flashing between glossy pink lips. Her curly hair tumbles down her back, the front of her bangs are held back by a dark pink headband which matches a pair of leggings she wore beneath a white tee with a multicolored shooting star on the front. The blond behind her has straight hair, straight-cut bangs brushing over her long, mascara-covered lashes, a light purple dusting of eyeshadow matching a purple jersey shirt with a white diamond on the front over a pair of black leggings along with a pair of big, white hooped earrings.

"Yeah, yes, hi," you breathed out, apprehension and shock in your tone as you’re pulled in. "Are you Mabel?"

"Actually...I'm your new roommate!" She squeals before deadpanning with a, “But yeah, my name is Mabel.” You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm.

"Well, it's really nice to meet you, Mabel," you say genuinely, a sigh of relief passing your lips along with a giggle.

"This is Pacifica, my gf and our other roommate," Mabel introduces. The blond nods her head, not saying a word as Mabel does all the talking. "And my brother also lives here but he's kinda...busy right now. He's sorry he couldn't be here for the greeting party though!" You brush that off. "How about we give you the tour and then we can get to know each other."

She grabs one of your two bags as she leads you to your room: a dark space with a slanted ceiling, a stained-glass window in the far-left corner which offers a muted colored light, a furnace in the far right, a bed at the center of the left wall, and a closet to the left of the bed. It’s perfect for a shut-in writer such as yourself. Mabel tells you that the room used to belong to her Grunkle Stan who was travelling the seas with his brother, her Great Uncle Ford.

Dropping the bags onto the bed, the three of you made the rounds of the house. Mabel and Pacifica share the attic, Mabel saying she has sentimental attachment to the space. While walking through their home, Pacifica tells you how she had grown up as a rich only child. Her parents had fallen on a bit of "hard times" after her dad made a bad investment in some bonds and they had to sell their mansion to the town kook, Old Man McGucket, and, yes, that is how he prefers to be called. After living with her parents until she was legally able to leave, her now living with Mabel and her brother in the Mystery Shack was not only convenient but is also like a middle finger to her oppressive parents. You learn all of this before you even make it to the living room. You really like how talkative Mabel is. Her extrovert personality counteracts your quiet tendencies.

Coming to Mabel's twin brother's room—who you found out is named Mason but is nicknamed Dipper—it’s a mess. Dirty laundry, papers, and books all scattered over every surface. You barely notice the shape of the bed or couch underneath the piles of clothing and maps. The only thing that seems to be somewhat in order was the bookshelf. It’s stacked to the brim with books except for the top shelf, where only three books rest, all with their covers facing out. Each one is a deep blue, a drawing of a silver Pinetree overlayed with a golden Big Dipper constellation and underneath is printed golden numbers 1, 2, 3. They look like journals, though you had no idea what information could be handwritten there. You gather that he’s either a brainiac or a maniac, and neither tend to have very clean tendencies. But you aren’t one to judge, knowing you could get the same way in the midst of an inspired breakthrough. Your muse could work in mysterious and very annoying ways: ergo the entire reason for moving to Gravity Falls.

"Yeah, my brother tends to be a bit...hazardous when he gets in the work zone," Mabel explains sheepishly. "If it's not his room, it’s the basement that's a mess. Or both. Mostly both."

You’ve stayed relatively quiet the entirety of the tour but your curiosity itches at you brain, prompting an inquisitive, "What does your brother do?"

"Science research...of sorts," she answers through thin lips.

"Of sort?" Your brows scrunch together at the vague implication.

"Yeah, I'm not entirely sure the specifics of his work, just that he has a few Ph.D.'s," she shrugs, a nervous laugh bubbling in her throat, as if it wasn't a great feat to have multiple Ph.D.'s before the ripe age of twenty-four.

"Wow, that's...really impressive," you breath, not knowing exactly how to respond to her nonchalance over the subject.

"Yeah, proud of my bro-bro, just wish he would wash his clothes," she chuckles, faking(?) a grimace and pulling a laugh out of you and Pacifica.

The rest of the tour went on like this, sharing stories and taking cracks at one another, giving you an idea of the nature of the relationship between your new housemates. Mabel went on and on about how much the house means to them, and how much their great uncles mean to them as well. It’s really sweet, and you believe that you’ve found yourself some interesting characters to write about.

Mabel is really nice and, while Pacifica had a very hard exterior, you can see her softer side in the moments when she lets herself slip out of that tough exterior to laugh for Mabel. They both help you unpack quickly, even brightening up the space with a lamp Mabel had decorated herself—crystals hot glued to the base, refracting a cascade of rainbows around the room. You feel so welcomed already.

An ear-shattering bang shakes the house, dust drizzling from the ceiling and effectively startling you awake.

"Fuck!" A voice screams. You follow it with a heart-pounding urgency, leading you to the gift shop where smoke billows into the room. The vending machine swings open, and you startle, a small squeak leaping out of your throat. A figure emerge from the smoke, coughing and waving his arms with a cap in one hand to clear out the black cloud surrounding him. When the smog clears enough for you to get a good look at the man, the first thing you saw was the mop of curly brown hair, much like Mabel's, that is powdered with soot and debris. His pale skin is marred by the caking of dirt over his exposed arms and cheeks, yet the dark circles underneath his eyes were still prominent despite only being illuminated by the moonlight seeping in through glass windows. The dark grayish-green tee with a black question mark on the front was also frosted in a layer of powder. The red flannel tied around his waist seems relatively unscathed until he uses the material to wipe what is still on his face. His arms lifted to rub off the grime, showcasing the ink markings on his forearms. You can’t help but stare at him and the opened vending machine entrance, mouth hanging open at the scene. You wonder if you’re dreaming.

"Trying to catch flies, sunshine?" His deep voice rattles. You know he’s speaking to you despite him refusing to look your way.

"Excuse me?"

"No?" He smugly questions, the sarcasm dripping from his voice that is riddled with sleep deprivation and husky from his dust-coated throat. He finally looks over at you, allowing you to meet his chocolate brown eyes. "Then you should close your mouth." You wrinkle your nose at the snark of his tone. Before you can reply, the girls come down from the attic.

"Nice going, Dipstick, what did you blow up this time?" The blonde grumbles. You make a mental note to never wake the girl from her beauty sleep lest you receive the same venomous tone.

"None of your business, Pacifica," he sighs.

"I don't know why you're in such a piss mood when you were the one to wake everyone up at three in the morning, moron," she grumbles, crossing her arms over her chest and rolling her eyes so far back into her head that you’re sure she caught a glimpse of her brain.

"I know that you, more than anyone, need your precious beauty sleep, Pacifica, but my lab is not any of your concern," Dipper snaps back.

"Shut up, Dipshit."

"Buy my silence then, rich bitch."

The tangible tension in the room surrounds the house residents as Pacifica's eye twitch and her nostrils flare. Pacifica, not wanting to put up with his attitude any longer at three in the morning, mumbles a quiet, "Whatever," and turns on her heel, heading back upstairs. You can’t help but admire the great restraint on her part.

"Mason, go to sleep," Mabel utters firmly, tiredly, pinching the bridge of her nose in annoyance as she speaks. "You're a dick when you haven't slept in a few days." He knows better than to talk back to Mabel when she calls him out like that, especially so when there is a significant lack of a nickname.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he groans, his hand dragging down his face, smearing black back onto the skin he'd just half-heartedly cleaned off.

"And you will apologize tomorrow." It’s not a question from Mabel, the no-nonsense tone leaving little room for debate.

"Yeah, I will," he mutters, followed by a nearly silent, "When Waddles learns to fly."

"Well, he already did," she argues, leaving you absolutely confused. "I'll see if I can't get her to apologize for the ‘dipshit’ comment but yours was worse so you have to make the first move."

"I know the drill, Mabel." She nods at his compliance, turning to you.

"I'm sorry that this is your first impression of my brother," she says sheepishly, though her tone scolds him still.

"This is the Ph.D. guy?" You choke out the inquiry softly towards Mabel, shock clear in your tone. She shrugs, nods, then goes off to find Pacifica.

"You must be the new roommate," he smiles then, though it’s more condescending than friendly. Despite that, he still holds out his hand for you to shake. "Nice to meet you. Stay out of my lab."

"Noted," you scoffs, taking his hand as if in a daze.

"Nice pjs," he smirks, instantly turning your cheeks red as you remember what you wore to bed. Nothing more than a thin T-shirt that barely covers your backside. You snatch your hand back from his hold. "Oh, and welcome to Gravity Falls."

Looking around, you take in the black-and-white space surrounding you. The trees still, despite the breeze grazing your skin; the birds hover in the air, wings wide spread; the wildlife turn their heads towards you yet don't move an inch otherwise. It’s like walking into a vintage photograph. Your mind wanders as your feet carry you deeper into the forest, following the gentle stream. The only color illuminating the monochrome forest is yourself and the image of a floating yellow-

"Mabel! I've said it once, I've said it a million times! I don't want any Mabel juice!" The sound of Pacifica's shrieking voice stirs you out of sleep, pulling you from the odd dream.

Rubbing the sleep from your eyes, you walk into the den full of commotion. "What the hell is Mabel juice?" You ask sleepily, mid-yawn. You’re met with coos about how adorable the action was from Mabel, to which you blush and sheepishly wave off, already getting the sense that Mabel found cuteness in almost anything.

"Mabel juice!" Mabel announces proudly and far too loudly for so early in the morning. "A beverage of my own invention!" She shows off, presenting the drink in question that looked like a hot pink choking hazard. "Want some?"

"Hmm," you hum in thought at her hopeful intent. "Thank you, Mabel, but I think I'll stick with coffee. I do appreciate the offer though." She just shrugs, still beaming, and pours herself a glass. The sweet smell of pancakes wafts around the room as you sit at the kitchen table. "Something smells good."

"It's my ultra-chocolate-chip pancakes with sprinkles!" Mabel announces, sliding a plate over to Pacifica with a nicely decorated array of rainbow colors over a cloud of whipped cream in the shape of the Smiledip puppy.

"Wow, is this what breakfast is always like here?" You wonder aloud, Pacifica shrugs, hesitates in thought, and then nods.

"How many pancakes, Sunshine?" Mabel hums, the nickname falling easily from her lips. She obviously makes attachments very quickly.

"One, please," you say politely. Mabel is quick to oblige, whipping up similar masterpieces that look like a kitten judge, complete with chocolate syrup whiskers, a powdered sugar powdered wig, and a bacon gavel. "Mabel, this is really incredible." You can’t even remember the last time you had a hot breakfast. Or any breakfast for that matter. You didn't exactly practice a habit of self-care while taking your college courses...or any basic needs really like a regular eating schedule or exercise.

"Why thank you, Cutie-Patootie." You would respond if your mouth wasn't currently stuffed with the bacon gavel. "Sleep well?"

"For the most part." You nod slowly before your mind drifts back to the three a.m. incident. "Can I ask you something though?"

"Shoot."

"Is your brother always like that?" Pacifica snorts derivatively beside you, as if laughing at her own inside joke echoing in her head.

"Well, if you mean pushing the reasonable boundaries of his own health to finish his current hyper fixation…then yes," Mabel sighs, offering a sad smile. "But the bitchiness, no. He’s usually sweet, just sassy. But he tends to slip into bitchy mode when he hasn't gotten enough sleep…which now that I think about it is whenever he’s on the edge of a breakthrough…So to answer your question: yes."

"Hmm, that seems so stupid, though," you hum around a mouthful of the sugar drowned pancake bite.

"Pardon?" The voice comes from behind you, startling you with a bite of pastry cat judge halfway in your mouth. You would have choked if you'd taken a bigger bite. Turning your head, syrup almost dripping off your pouting bottom lip, you see Dipper. He obviously showered which was quite the improvement from last night. Now that his face is clean you can take notice of his features. You remember the big brown eyes but now, without the smudges of grease and grime on his forehead, you notice the pair of bushy eyebrows and fluffy curls that rest above those chocolate orbs. It looks like he hasn't shaved in a while, a shadow of scruff shading his chin. Instead of the question mark tee from last night, he’s wearing a dark blue sweater with the words "Disco Girl" in bubbled sky-blue font that reminds you of a 70s aesthetic mood board which he accompanies with a pair of grey sweats. You think it an odd outfit choice for the moody man in front of you, the juxtaposition boggling your mind. He cocks his head and raises a bushy brow in question when you take your time to answer.

"I mean, it just doesn't seem very productive," you shrug when you finally shallow the breakfast bite that was stuffing your mouth, the hypocrisy dripping off your words as much as the syrup. "When you don't get enough sleep your neuroreceptors lose their sensitivity to serotonin and norepinephrine which leads to impaired cognitive function. I thought you were supposed to be a genius or something." You mumble the last part while sipping on your cup of coffee. Pacifica snorts out of laugh, Mabel has to slap her hand over her mouth to cover the traitorous smile, and Dipper stares at you with his nose wrinkled and his brows drawn together, taking in your words and frowning at the implication.

"I'm going back to bed," he announces, immediately turning on his heel. “Save me a pancake gnome, Mabel!”

"Are you a science buff too, Sunshine?" Mabel asks once Dipper has turned the corner. Peering past the wall, you check to make sure he was really gone.

"Nope," you popped the 'p'. "I got that off a tv show. I just wanted to stump him." All three of you erupt in laughter.

"Okay, I’ve decided to like you," Pacifica giggles, leaning back in her chair and giving you an approving once over. "On a trail basis, of course. We’ll see how it goes."

"Honored," you chuckle.

"So, what’s the plan for the rest of the day?" Mabel asks. She turns the stove off, carrying over a plate with a llama pancake for Pacifica and her own her has a pancake shaped like a dolphin…with muscular arms instead of fins?

"Well, I wanted to check out the town a bit," you answer with a mouthful of the syrupy breakfast. "Maybe walk around the forest a bit…Any good landmarks to check out?”

"Want a tour guide?"

"Yeah, that’d be great, Mabel," you answer gratefully.

The three of you make a day of exploring the town. Mabel and Pacifica show off every aspect and share all the quirky attributes of the small town. Considering the size of the town, the tour doesn't take long. The last stop is Greasy's Diner where Pacifica works. The three of you eat lunch before Pacifica clocks into work. Mabel offers to walk with you back to the Mystery Shack before she goes back out to the craft shop for more knitting supplies. You politely decline, saying that you can find your way back on your own. You part ways and you take your own time strolling back to the house, taking the long way through the mysterious woods you've been itching to explore.

After living with the trio for a few weeks, you caught on to a few things. Mabel is a being of pure chaos, but she makes it work. She channels most of her energy into her creativity, her job consisting of running an Etsy shop selling knitted sweaters. Pacifica is actually a very chill person. She was rather reserved, and you'd catch her people watching often, especially when Mabel's friends Candy and Grenda would come over. She would often observe them with a small smile playing on her glossy lips. She seemed like the perfect balance for Mabel's wildness. And Dipper hates your guts. You're not sure why, but you frequently found him glaring at you. You're not sure what you did, but the guy always has an evil eye for you. Especially when you get back from your daily walks through the woods.

That's another thing about your time in Gravity Falls that seems odd to you. You're not sure why, but you're drawn to the wilderness. It's as if something in the forest was calling out to you.

Your mind wanders as your feet carry you deeper into the forest. Your surroundings blur and blend into the verdant brush or golden glow of the setting sun. You don't even realize how long you've been traveling until your limbs begin to ache and nothing around you is familiar anymore. You hear and see nothing resembling that of a human touch, only the steady thrum of the natural world you've stepped into. The final rays of the evening sun light your path as you venture further, a meager attempt to find your way back to civilization. However, you curiously find yourself stumbling upon a mossy mass of stone, and time seems to slow down the moment you do. The trees still, despite the breeze grazing your skin; the birds hover in the air, wings widespread; the wildlife turn their heads towards you yet don't move an inch otherwise. Coming closer, you see a scrawny statue arm reach out to you welcomingly. Your eyes travel over the attached body, the monument shaped like a personified pyramid. You tiptoe around the monolith, studying the odd artwork. A breeze sweeps over you, a shiver working its way down your spine. There's a sudden subtle tickle at the back of your brain and a slight paranoia settles across your skin. Your eyes find the granite gaze of the one-eyed creature, and goose bumps bloom over your flesh. You don't understand it, but you feel a simultaneous urge to flee as well as an overwhelming draw towards the inanimate figure. The contradiction creates a harsh turmoil within you, and you feel frozen, granting your surroundings the perfect opportunity to whisper advice into the wind. You can almost hear an audible "Run!" from the wood, but you can't bring yourself to follow the orders. Instead, your hand hesitantly reaches out to the outstretched hand, your fingers gingerly grasping the stone and wrapping your digits around the stony hand. However, just as your palm settles against the carved rock, fingers grip your wrist and yank you away, pulling you back into a hard chest. And suddenly, time is back on track. You're ripped from your daze as you're spun around to meet a pair of frantic chestnut eyes.

"What did you do?" he screams, shaking you by the shoulders. His face goes pale, deathly so, and the new ghostly shade causes the dusting of freckles over his nose and cheeks to drain along with his rosy completion. You unconsciously frown at that realization.

"What?" you mutter in a trance, your mind rousing slowly from the mental fog.

"What did you do?" he repeats in a panic, the desperation in his voice snapping you out of your stupor.

"Nothing!" you squeak out in defense.

"You don't touch this!" he wails in your face. "Don't ever touch this!"

"I won't!" you cry out, hands pushing at his shoulders and clawing at his fingers gripping painfully at your arms. His eyes are searching, scanning your face and person manically. Looking for what, you don't know. But he stares into your eyes as if expecting something new. Well, new to you, at least. You get the feeling that whatever he thinks he'll find swimming in your irises is something that he is plenty familiar with. When he seems satisfied enough, he pushes you away softly. Instead, he turns to gaze at the granite figure once more. A shaky hand cards through his curly bangs, showing off the constellation of freckles that were previously hidden. The movement nearly nudges his hat off his head, letting it rest haphazardly on his head. After a moment, it seems as though he settles the argument that has been playing out in his head. He grabs your bicep and starts dragging you back to the house, ignoring your protests.

When you make it back to the Mystery Shack, Dipper drags you through the attraction side of the house, stopping in front of a vending machine. He punches in a code before pushing you through the entrance that reveals itself. You're welcomed into a dark, dusty hallway lit only by a gas lantern. You then ride down in a creaking elevator, watching the numbers change through broken display glass. Once the metal elevator gate opens up again, another room is unveiled, and you soon realize that it's the basement laboratory, the one that he specifically, in no uncertain terms, told you to stay out of. You believe it was the first sentence he said to you, actually.

This room is by far more well-kept than his bedroom, but it also seems more lived in. There are contraptions, books, papers, and writing utensils scattered over every surface, but it at least seems like there is controlled chaos.

He maneuvers you to sit on an uncomfortable wooden stool in front of a wall of monitors and computer keyboards. You don't know why you've let him direct you so easily thus far, but you might be more afraid of what would happen if you resisted. He seemed so shaken, unstable even after you touched the statue.

You nearly jump out of your skin as you feel cold metal atop your scalp. You whip around to see Dipper attempting to fit a rusty colander with tubes sticking out of it over your head. You jump up finally, drawing a line in the sand.

"What the hell is going on?" You screech, a heaviness weighing on you as the fog is finally gone and you begin to understand the possible gravity of the situation.

"Relax," he sighs. "It's a cranium scanner. It's harmless. It's just meant to scan your thoughts."

You scoff. "Why do you need to do that? Why should I believe that's what you say it is? Why were you so freaked out about that statue? Why were you even there? Were you following me? You need to work on your communication because you just drag me down here and try to hook up some terrifying machine to me without my permission and without explaining and this is freaking me the fuck out!"

His jaw ticks with every word that quickly leaves your lips. Silently, he lifts the device to his head and fits it on his scalp. The moment he does the monitor comes to life. Green words dance across the screen and mumbles buzz from the speakers. You see and hear phrases like "Fuck, this girl is annoying...I need to run these tests...We have to hurry...gotta make sure he's not back...keep everyone safe, have to keep everyone safe...Man, I'm starving...When was the last time I did laundry?...Nah, that's a waste of time...Disco girllll, coming throughhhh, that girl is youuu...Shit, now that I look at her she's kinda cut—" He rips the machine off his head and clears his throat before shrugging his shoulders and waving his hands as if to say "I told you so" in a single motion. "See? Harmless. Now put this on."

You shake your head. "I still need an explanation."

He sighs out in frustration, taking the stool for himself as he runs a trembling hand over his exhausted features. "Look, this town...it's not normal, okay? There are things here...things that can't be explained...including that statue." You stare at him tentatively, noticing the way his fingers fidget together and his brow shines with sweat. "Just...do this and we will never speak of this again." You watch him for a moment, trying to gauge whether the knot in your stomach is intuition or just nerves over his odd behavior. You don't think you can trust him...but you feel like he needs this...whatever it is. And you hope that it'll calm his erratic behavior. Plus, you're a little amazed by the mindreading device, and you kind of want to know if it's accurate or not. You cautiously step forward, nodding minutely. He rises from the seat and allows you to take it. You do, wiggling around a bit to get comfortable on the incredibly irritating wood panels.

"Can I at least get a better chair?" you grumble.

He actually chuckles, a breath of relief leaving his lips as he nods. He drags an old, velvet-upholstered chair that sits next to a chess table. He smacks the cushion and allows a layer of dust previously caked on the fabric to fly into the air. You can live with it more than the splintering stool. You settle into the seat and allow Dipper to place the appliance on your head.

First comes the shock as all your thoughts are displayed on the monitor at a mile a minute, including the thoughts of your shock. Next comes the processing as you watch Dipper take a seat and start scribbling notes as he observes the monitors. You watch as every one of your thoughts is displayed and you begin to feel exposed as every one of your anxieties are advertised. Taking a deep breath, you let your eyes flutter close, trying your best to relax.

The next moment you open your eyes again something feels off. You scrunch your brow as you look around the room, trying to figure out what's different. Looking over to Dipper, you notice that he's stopped writing. Instead, he sits staring up at the screen. You miss how the screen no longer projects your every thought and only produces static. Your skin bubbles with pins and needles, a sudden chill filling your bones as Dipper remains unmoving with his chin resting on his intertwined fingers. You can't see his face and that alone unnerves you as the silence persists.

You hesitate to speak. "Dipper?"

His hands separate, palms placed flat on the keyboard top. Other than his arms moving, nothing else does. The anxiety is slowly pressing into your chest as you patiently wait for his next action or word. You're beginning to think you should run.

"Y'know," he starts. His voice sounds different, higher pitched, and echoing slightly. "The human mind is such a delicate thing...so fragile and easy to manipulate." He stands then but still doesn't face you. When he turns towards you slowly, his features backlit by the sinister green glow of the monitor, his movements are casual, and he leans back against the desktop with his arms crossed. You can see his eyes. They're different from the chocolate chip orbs that you saw before. Now his pupils consume the entirety of his irises, and it seems as if they're slanted like cat eyes. They almost glow yellow. They nearly remind you of...

He laughs suddenly, wobbily stalking towards you as he shakes his head mockingly. His voice morphs as he continues to make the maniacal sound. It becomes high and pitchy, echoing a shrill, unsettling quality in the sinister cackle that makes your stomach drop. "I mean, look at you! Look at how easy it was to lead you to this moment. You didn't even fight it!" Your hair stands on end at his words and your limbs tremble as you're reminded that you were worried that this would happen. Is it possible to tell yourself 'told you so'? "You just followed me through the woods. I didn't even have to trick you into taking my hand, you curious little thing!" You flinch as Dipper cages you between him and the seat, his face inches from yours as his eyes study you.

"What are you talking about?" You squeak out, your voice finally working once again. Now that he's so close, you know exactly where you've seen such odd eyes before. The statue in the woods.

"Ahh, there it is," he giggles. A hand comes up and grips your chin between his thumb and index. He shakes your head from side to side while pouting at you derisively. "Figure it out?"

"What—how?"

"Hmm, maybe not," he chuckles. He taps a finger into your temple slowly, but the gentle touch feels far more frightening to you, as if it's the calm right before the raging storm. "And here I thought you were a smart girl." His voice has morphed once again, two voices bleeding into one. You hear Dipper's voice being overtaken by that discordant tone that he laughed at you with. His eyes drag down your body then, a darkness seeming to seep into those unsettling ellipse pupils. "It's always odd to look through two eyes. Everything seems so much more...third dimensional. Much more graphic. For instance," his hand cups your throat, the touch so gentle and soft, but there was an obvious threat there, "if I squeeze, I'd be able to see your skin turn red and maybe even blue if I cut off your air for long enough." He absently chuckles, as if lost in the image of what he's imagining. He leans in closer, running his nose along your jaw. "I'd be able to see your veins popping out. Maybe I'd feel your windpipe crushing too." His eyes drift up to yours, as if only now remembering that you're there. He offers a smile that could possibly resemble something sweet, but it only turned your stomach. "Don't worry, Sunshine," he whispers, gently pecking your cheek, "that's not what I want."

"What do you want then?" you ask, your voice surprisingly harsh despite how your insides knot up and your throat feels as if it's closing up.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he pulls his gaze away from your temptingly delicate throat.

"Just saying hi to an old friend," he answers, releasing his hold on your neck and placing his hands on either side of your head. As he leans into you it's as if you're witnessing a real-life glitch as the man in front of you shifts from Dipper to a lanky, tan blonde. Wild locks peek out from a tiny top hat atop his head and sweep over his bangs that cover one of his eyes. He'd look like a normal person if he weren't wearing such a predatory grin that reminds you more of a monster instead of a man, the ethereal yellow glow that radiates off his skin, or the cracks at the edges of his face with a galaxy peeking through the unnatural jagged breaks of flesh. But just as quickly as the image of the new man appeared, it was replaced by Dipper once again. He wiggles his fingers in a small wave. "Isn't that right, Pine Tree?" He stares into your eyes but it's as if he's looking through you, instead. He's not talking to you.

Suddenly, his fingers clamp over the nape of your neck, the painful pressure causing your muscles to tense and you're at his mercy. He uses this to throw you towards the dusty couch along the wall. Now that you're out of his immediate vicinity you try to get up and run but he moves like lightning and he's over you in an instant.

"Sorry, Sunshine," he says as he swings a leg over yours, locking your body in place as it's trapped between his thighs. The image of his body continuously glitches from Dipper to the person you saw before. Your arms thrash as you squirm and kick and try to get away, but he pays no mind to your struggle, capturing your wrists easily in his grasp. His fingers dig into your skin as he grips your jaw painfully. "It's nothing personal. Well, not towards you, at least." He laughs as if he said something so funny, an inside joke only for him. "Actually, I should be thanking you. You freed me, your pretty little mind is going to be my new home. And in light of that, I think you deserve a little treat, huh?" Despite your struggle, the man easily held you down with a hand wrapped around your wrists. His other hand smooths down your sides, goosebumps raising in the wake of his touch. His fingers dig into your cheeks as he presses an open-mouthed kiss against your lips, his tongue slipping in and scavenging your mouth. And the taste of his tongue rubbing against yours is…intoxicating.

It’s like the sweetest of ambrosia seeping into your tastebuds. You feel like you should be fighting more, struggling harder against the man's advances. You feel the way your veins fill with ice at the realization of what he is planning to do. But your mind feels foggy, your movements sluggish and out of your control; the same way you felt while walking in the woods. Your mind is only consumed by the taste of his lips and how it fills your every being. You need more. Your skin feels hot, burning but in the best ways possible. The feeling slowly begins to thaw the ice in your bloodstream as his touch lights your nerves. You vaguely hear the light chuckle in his voice as your lids flutter halfway and you focus on the featherlike trail his fingertips left over your skin.

You open your mouth, but no words leave your lips, and that shrill laugh rings out again.

"See?" he coos, a mixture of Dipper and the other high-pitched voice resonating through the small room. "So easy." His hand releases your wrists, but your limbs stay in place, unmoving even with their newfound freedom. His thumbs knead into your sides as they slip underneath your shirt, slowly rolling the fabric up your body. "Bet Pinetree is squirming in his seat right now. Better give him a show, huh, Sunshine?" Despite every alarm bell in the back of your mind going off, you find yourself agreeing with the strange entity, knowing nothing but the need for more, more, more. His lips curl up into a sinister smirk as he watches the confusion etch into your brows but you do nothing to stop him.

His shirt is ripped over his head in an instant, displaying Dipper’s pale skin and the curly brown hair of his happy trail before his image shift into a mirage of the other man. Golden brick-like tattoo lines and crack of glowing galaxies along his body mar the perfectly tan skin of the unfamiliar man. And the glitches stop, you notice. He is no longer Dipper. He is only the fabricated personified image of the statue in the woods.

Dark fingers the look like they were dipped in ink and absorbed up to his elbows drag over your frame, cutting away each scrap of clothing covering your body. They fall away so smoothly, as if they were merely delicates drapes just waiting for a breeze to brush them away in a gentle sigh. You want to move your hands and cover yourself but you can’t bring your limbs to listen. They belong to him now. All of you belongs to him now. And the smirk on his face tells you he knows that.

"Wish I had a real body to truly enjoy this, y'know?" He murmurs, gaze hungrily roving over you. He unhurriedly brings himself to lay on the couch chest down between your legs, the dark tendrils of his hands curling below your hips as his head nuzzles into the side of one of your plush thighs. His hair is soft, you notice. Softer than any earthly object. And you are choosing to focus all of your attention on that fact rather than the hungrily look he gives you. "But taste is more of a mental construct, isn’t it? I don’t need a real tongue to thoroughly enjoy a meal." It’s the only warning you receive before a devilish tongue is ravishing your inner walls. Despite his initial nonchalance, he moves quickly to pick you apart with only one muscle. Your eyes flutter shut at the pleasure but just as q uickly, a fist closes around your throat and your eyelids fly open once again. "Eyes on me." And you listen, keeping your eyes on the golden iris trained in you as your jaw drops open in a silent scream while he brings you to completion under his skilled tongue. You don’t make a sound until his hand claps down in your thigh, signaling the need for an audible response to your climax. You oblige, letting a high-pitched moan escape your lips. He looks satisfied enough as he comes off of you with a wolffish grin.

You keep your eyes trained on him as he leans over you once again, as if you are incapable of closing them again. You’re not entirely sure if that inability is because of your own will or because of his command. Either way, you watch as the man hovers over you, causing you to jerk when his cock surprisingly taps your sensitive entrance. You look down then, watching the angry red, mushroom head sliding between your folds. Your body seems conflicted, trying both to get away from the friction and seeking to catch the bulbous tip on your weeping opening. You realize that he’s teasing you, however. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you know that he won’t do anything until you beg for it. He wants you to beg for it.

You listen to his sinister chuckle, the maddening sound bouncing inside your head…or are you both already inside your head…?

"Oh, you figured it out, Sunshine!" He chuckles in that echoing voice of his. "Now you know what I want, so do it." Your mouth opens without your permission but no words escape. "Oh, c’mon, Sunshine. I know you want it too…just give in."

"Please," the word is barely audible as it escapes your lips, but he hears it, perking up at the sound.

"Please what?"

"Please…please fuck me!" You can’t keep the whine out of your voice as you finally plead for what this has all been building up to. You don’t know this man—Creature? Ethereal being?—or what kind of spell he put on you. All you know is that you need it. Everything will be better once you feel his cock pummeling in and out of you. And that’s exactly what he does, plunging into you the second the last syllable leaves your lips.

The stretch is painful and you aren’t sure if the scream you release is because of the pain of his dick tearing through you or the pleasurable drag you feel on your inner walls. It’s like you want to scream, cry, push him out, but you can’t. You can only take it, take it, take it, just as he orders you to while he snaps his hips into you. You realize that you are crying, but again, you have no idea if the tears are from the wonderful stimulation or the searing shame of this moment. And somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if Dipper knows. You ask yourself what he thinks of you in this moment and if you even care when you’re being speared on a fat cock.

Again that demented laughter rings in your ears, reminding you of the demon you’ve officially sold your soul to that’s treating your body like his personal property. Maybe that’s his now too, along with your sanity. You can’t seem to say much besides moans and whines and pleas for something you’re not sure you want.

"Oh, I really wish you could see her face right now, Pinetree," he giggles, as if talking to himself. "You’d fucking love it. I know I do." He chuckles then, like he made an inside joke before his hand curls around your throat and makes sure your eyes are on him solely. And he speaks but not to you, to something he’s looking at through you. "But I really wish I could see your face right now. You getting off on this, Little Dipper? I bet you are. Freaks like you and me, we gotta enjoy these little moments when we get them." His grip tightens on your throat then and the panic sets in again. Whatever it was that lulled you into a false state of complacency is gone. You feel the oxygen struggling to fill your lungs as his hips snap faster in and out of you, his lanky fingers bullying your button as you’re starting to swim in asphyxiation.

There’s a twinkle in his eye that was never there before as he watches you struggle. You realize that his sadistic demon is getting off more on torturing you than he has this entire time. The smile that spreads across his face is one you know will haunt your very being. And you hate yourself as his digits circling your clit brings you to release just as your vision blackens at the edges. You barely register the warmth flooding your insides as you’re finally allowed to close your eyes.

You wake again with a start, your body shooting up in the chair again, the odd helmet once again gracing your crown. Your eyes land on Dipper whose back is turned to you and you wander if the nightmare is only restarting again. But when he turns around, you see the dark dusting of color on his cheeks and know that this isn’t the demon you just dealt with. But if the boner in his jeans is anything to go by, you do know that he watched the whole thing.

Dipper clears his throat, awkwardly shifting as he faces you, his hands fruitlessly hovering over his crotch and his eyes refusing to meet yours. "Umm," he squeaks. "I think we need to talk."

#minors dni #gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #bill cipher #bill cipher x reader #smut #gravity falls smut #aged up characters #dipper pines

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apocalypse-shuffle · 2 years ago

Text

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

—

“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, crying?

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

Ma. God, no one called you that anymore. The way your eyes begin to prickle is a clear indication.

With you Dick wasn’t the type. Once he’d worked himself up to it he’d called you mom; slightly different from the few ways he referred to his bio mother, but something shared between the two of you all the same.

And Tim? Well he wasn’t your child plain and simple. Tim still had his parents for one, and for two he was intrinsically Bruce’s. By the time he’d figured his way into the Batcave you’d been gone, most of your shit moved out of the manor, and desperately waving divorce papers Bruce refused to acknowledge in the air. You didn’t have anything to do with his indoctrination outside of exactly one instance of him finding you to ask if you’d reconsider the separation. Some Batman needed a Robin and Bruce Wayne needed his wife type shit.

Either way Tim didn’t call you any rendition of mom because you weren’t his. The most you got was him addressing you by your maiden name and then eventually your first and you were content with that.

Then if he didn’t call you mom, the girls sure as hell didn’t either. Outside of Barbara the others never even became regular conversation partners. Cass was a rare sighting in your life and Stephanie and you’s relationship would never progress past the casual advocacy you tried giving her because she was another dead Robin to add to what’s now technically a list.

At the end of the day, out of all the people who considered you a mother, only Jason added that ‘a’ and you wanted to grip that name tight and hold it to you. Break your ribs open and force it into your chest cavity. The need to fulfill that ache cuts deep and you take a step forward.

Jason startles though, undoing all his own forward progress, and you falter. That’s right. Jason didn’t like for people to touch him. Definitely didn’t like hugs either. Not surprise ones at least. Before his death you’d gotten close enough he didn’t mind when you swooped in, but now?

“Can I-? Can I hug you?” You press trembling lips together for another horrible swallow. “Please…?”

Jason jerks, two hastily aborted movements at once, before his obstructed voice meets your ears.

“Fine.”

You practically fall on him before pulling him into you. Unfortunately he’s just as stiff as his voice and you have to take a second to figure out how to slot against him.

Jason fits in your arms differently than he used to - broader and taller by a mile - but after a few beats he relaxes into them just the same. The subtle addition of weight makes a sob bubble up your throat.

You rap your knuckles on the side of the helmet.

“Take this shit off.”

He hesitates and a sharp pang manages to worm its way into the already shitty cocktail of emotions you’re feeling. It hits your spine like lightning, forces you up and has you an arms length away in half an inhale.

Maybe before now you’d been going through too much all at once for the trepidation to hit, but it was hitting now. You’d never seen Hood without- well without the Hood. Only Jumbie raised from the dead the way Jason did, and while you’d take your son anyway you could get him you wouldn’t accept some Thing parading around in his skin.

Reading your burst of movement for what it is, Jason backtracks, rising arms dropping to his sides. “Maybe I shouldn’t…”

“Jason Peter-” you inhale deeply, catching yourself, and hold a hand up to stop him. You both ignore the obvious way it trembles. “-only… if…if you want to. I’m not trying to force anything.”

He’s slow to nod, weight shifting from his left to his right leg and back again before he says something too low for you to hear. You’re about to ask him to repeat when he speaks up, this time aiming his voice somewhere around your shoulder while bowing his head.

“No, I- Alright. Just hold on.”

Haunches suitably raised and heart in your throat you pay close attention as the helmet comes up, Jason having released some catch in the back.

It goes over, the helmet clatters to the ground, and the man who stares back at you is…hard to place.

The low fluorescent lighting of the narrow room combined with the concrete walls casts soft enough shadows over his face that while his features are warped they’re not discernible. Which means you can’t completely rule out the uncanniness wafting off of him as just your brain (along with your entire perception of the universe) splinting in half.

It makes your face heat up. He looks familiar, but you can’t say you wouldn’t have passed him straight if you’d seen him on the street. He’s too big for one, even for how you’d all imagined he’d look grown up, standing more than a foot taller than the last day you saw him. Taller than malnourishment would’ve ever let him be.

The sob you let out makes you both flinch.

One hand snaps to your mouth, the other waving him off.

“I’m sorry I- I don’t-. This is just-”

Even with the way he’s leaning away from you he shakes his head. “I get it, it's fine.”

His voice is faint, cut up and hoarse like he hasn’t used it in a while, and it’s the prettiest thing you’ve heard in ages.

“Oh,” you laugh. The wet kind that makes your throat sticky. You can only stare at him, blurry form and all, words lost to you.

Eventually, after watching your fervent effort to wipe away tears that are in no way inclined to give you a break, arms crossed Jason takes a half step forward with a shrug.

“We can…try again?”

The next little laugh you let out you practically choke on but you nod all the same.

When Jason’s the first to move your heart starts speeding away like an overexcited middle school drumline. You roll with it though, pressing the heels of your palms into your eyes so they’re dry enough for you to actually see him clearly for a few seconds.

When he’s directly in front of you your hands come up slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to move away. Or maybe to vanish.

When he does neither, only giving you a guarded look, you allow yourself to touch.

Problem is, the domino mask he’s wearing very quickly gets in your way and on your nerves when you move to frame his face. Quickly feels like if it’s not gone, if you can’t see his eyes, you’ll throw up.

To stop yourself from taking the risk and ripping it off you have to take a deep breath. Have to force down the thick build up of saliva gathering in your mouth so it pushes back the bile climbing up your throat.

“I’d like to see my son, Jason. All of you.”

To emphasize your point you tap the tip of your nail against the mask. There’s no intention on your part to cross his boundary but Jason’s hands snap up to hold onto your wrists all the same.

You look into the white lenses of his domino, fingers buzzing along the corner of the mask closest to them. His mouth twists into a frown.

“Please?”

You beg with the same ferocity a grieving mother once used when begging for her child back.

“You’re asking for a lot.”

He lets go and he takes a couple steps back and you don’t cry.

No, instead you swing your hands behind you. Clasping them together in a poor attempt to stop the buzzing sensation that travels from the tips of your fingers to take over your entire hand.

“Mmm,” you incline your head. “Well. I did help a boy get over first date jitters with a made up song once. Let that same boy talk me through an entire dissertations’ worth of his analysis of Their Eyes Were Watching God - as choppy as it was - because TWMS wouldn’t allow him to present it in class. Let him skip going to that same school and cry to me for hours after the death of Gloria Stanson. Remember a knife hidden in the corner on the highest shelf in his closet, and I remember not revealing any of that when I gave his eulogy because he once asked me to keep the important things between the two of us. So you don’t have to show me, but I think I make a pretty good qualifier when it comes to keeping this safe.”

You point straight to where his heart is tucked safely behind layers of gray armor before shrugging.

From the way his brows furrow over the domino you know he’s at least thinking about it so you step away to pick up your disregarded mask and stuff it in your waistband.

One blink. Six.

“You remember Rena?”

In front of him again, you rock back on your heels. “Mhm. And the ‘how to tie a tie’ lessons me and Bruce walked you through even though you didn’t wear a suit to that date. Remember that too.”

Jason’s smile is crooked on his face but it’s nonetheless present as he makes a noise of agreement.

“I’d just wanted to spend time with you two, I was never planning on wearing a suit to go to the skating rink.”

“We figured.”

You’re rolling onto the balls of your feet when that small smile drops and he shakes his head.

“I’m not that same boy anymore.”

You take in the way he could raise his hand and so easily touch the ceiling without having to jump. You clear the phlegm from your throat.

“I can tell.”

Jason grunts and makes a general gesture indicating something somewhere behind you.

“And I got no interest in trying to live up to whatever fucked up embalment Bruce’s got going on with my burnt suit in that case.”

That suit. Bruce’s memorial. His warning. Your breath hitches as you think of the smell of crisped blood and methanol. If Jason didn’t want to talk about it you sure as shit weren’t going to.

“I will one hundred percent take that into account.” You keep it simple, rocking on your heels again. He wasn’t asking for anything unreasonable so there wasn’t really any debate to be had. “You wanna be treated as you are? I can do that.”

Moments pass once you’ve said your peace where Jason does nothing but stare at you. The only indication he’s at all alive being his shoulders still moving - and you are watching. Eyeing that tell tale up and down like your own life will end at its falter. The pattern is slow enough to come off as pacivity but the time between each rise and fall is too measured to be uncontrolled. Exactly three point eleven seconds one way and three point eleven seconds the other. Every time.

Then he sighs, curses, and the little veil of dissolvent for the adhesive that adheres the mask to his face is in his hand. A different vial and color than when he was Robin; you don’t know why you thought it’d be the same. Or why it makes your heart clench that it’s not.

Between one thrum of the fluorescent lights and the next Jason is peeling away the domino, and you would be lying if you claimed to know where it disappeared to after that. Too caught up on what he’d been hiding to track it.

Blue. Nothing more and nothing less. Just blessedly familiar, vibrant blue. Not the dull gray they’d become by the time you were given the chance to put a gruesome sight of a child six feet under.

The “Oh wow,” tumbles from you without permission and then there’s zero hope for the waterworks you’d been holding back. The levee fails and you’re bawling before you know it. Barely holding back snot and who knows what else since you already feel like screaming.

At that point there’s no carefully thought out sentence for you to spew, no more hesitancy, no more measured breathing, and linear thought. Just the crushing need to have him close to you again.

You’re rushing forward before you know.

Wrapping your arms around Jason the next go around is both the best and the worst thing. You accommodate his new size faster, already writing over the ways he used to fit against you with the ways he does so now, but he’s still so stiff and he’s not reciprocating the hug either.

Maybe you should let go. You crossed the boundary too fast. Were too reckless. You literally have training on this and now you’re crowding him.

Okay, you’re pulling away. It’s a herculean effort but you’re forcing your arms from around his middle. You’ve got to, you don’t want to scare him off. Not when you just got him back.

There’s a soft “Not yet,” mumbled into your shoulder and then arms finally come around yours and you don’t hesitate to snap your own back into place.

He’s hugging you back.

You cry a little harder and bring one of your arms up to drape across his shoulders, pulling him closer. When you start rocking and Jason copies your momentum you press a kiss onto his temple.

“Hi,” you stutter out. Another sob. “Hi baby.”

Since he’s finally letting his arms wrap around you you don’t hesitate to run dark fingers through the truly unruly mass of black curls on his head. His hairs’ damp - most likely from sweat - but cool. Probably being tempered by the cold air blowing into the room.

It’s when you press a kiss to his forehead that you feel something else wet and your breath stutters.

“It’s okay. I got you, everything’s okay,” you whisper.

“God Ma-” his voice cracks and then you can hear the sobs he’s trying to muffle into your suit. “No it’s not.”

“I know,” you sob. “I’m sorry- so so fucking sorry.”

You sniffle and pull away to see him better. Jason’s face is flushed, his eyes wet, and cheeks streaked with tears shed. You hold your hands up to frame his face for a second time and run your thumbs through the tear tracks. His chest heaves as his body tries to regulate his breathing.

Jason clears his throat, gaze boring into yours. “Hi,” he says.

You smile, finally beginning to map out his face. First you move to frame his cheeks, too feel the warmth in them. To see if they still feel familiar. They don’t; you force yourself to accept that fact without letting it show in your expression, letting out a measured exhale before continuing. You find his jaw is more defined now too, cheeks devoid of the baby fat of five years prior.

From then on brushing your thumbs along his brows, over the bridge of his nose, traveling over his ears and skirting around his hairline - it all fills your mind with incoherent cheers.

Your thumbs hover over Jason’s eyes and you hum when he closes them for you.

The skin underneath your shaved off pads is soft. The thin layer of protection allows you to feel how his eyeballs shift, to see the way his veins show stark under light skin, to clock the life thrumming through him.

It makes your heart feel so goddamn light. You can’t stop smiling at the sight of him. Eyes still wet but clear.

“I feel like such a horrible mother,” you hiccup, hands slide down so you can once again cup his face. “I barely recognize you.”

Jason’s breathing shakes nearly in tandem with yours and his eyes squeeze tighter shut, head turning away.

“Don’t.” He takes a second to look up. Look right through you. Lashes wet and glassy eyes open, voice grating over his next words. “Don’t blame yourself. It’s not your fault. I don’t blame any of you for that, but especially not you.”

What you want to do is argue. You should’ve never let him put on that suit in the first place, one fucked up son should’ve been the end of it. You should’ve dropped the case you were working the second you’d heard he’d run away and you should’ve found him. Instead you keep your thoughts personal, pinning them to your brain as if it’s a cushion so that you’ll never forget, and pull your son closer. An action which he allows, resting his head on your shoulder.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you whisper into his hair. The way he instantly shakes his head makes the cool strands tickle your jawline.

“You can’t mean that.”

“If I didn’t mean it I wouldn’t have said it, Jay.”

Jason tenses before responding, words spewing without warning.

“Yeah except I’ve killed people, and I don’t regret it, and Bruce hates that - and you probably do too - but his way isn’t good enough. The people in this city deserve better so I’m doing what’s necessary-”

And that has you bristling. He must notice too because he stops short and edges away, face steeping. Caught somewhere between wanting to leave and wanting to fully kick start an argument.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed! I had to split this bitch in two cause it was 5,000+ words and I’m not in the business of under-indulging myself.

Listen, I’ve looked into it. Every mother/mother figure Jason’s ever had he’s referred to as “Mom”, but me personally, I didn’t grow up addressing my own mother that way so I wanted to play around with “Ma” (differentiate a little). What's funny though, is that I’ve read Dick referring to his mother as both “Ma” and “Mom” so that’s fun.

• TWMS = Thomas Wayne Middle School

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik

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vanillyanmocattio · 1 month ago

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Agere sensories - olfactory (smells!)

Seeking

Kids perfume! relatively cheap and the scents are refreshing

Use toiletries for children - Johnson and Johnson, baby lotion/oil, hair detanglers. Fruit smells, vanilla and sweet smells, anything that reminds you of childhood

Candles! Many candy brands make them for cheap, and you can take the wax out and use the candle holder if it's made out of glass

Scented pens, crayons, erasers - a lot of kid stationary has nice smells!

Baby wipes! No smells screams little child quite as much as these

Slime! This one can also apply to middles, but slime brands have very diverse smells! I even saw a laundry detergent one

build-a-bear has scented plushes!

strawberry shortcake, num noms, stink blasters, scentos are brands that focus on scents

Crayons have a strong, specific smell, playdoh does too, but be careful not to eat it!

Bubbles also have a nice smell to get into the headspace!

Avoidant

focus on your toiletries being aimed for young babies or even infants - products that involve them generally have less smell because how sensitive they are

it also goes to baby food and even washing detergents!

You can order online if food smells or the cleaning sections (they're a LOT) are overwhelming. It's also less intimidating to get little gear/stuff!

Masks, scarves, high collars to hide your nose are your friends! And makes it easier to smuggle pacis!

Wooden toys are your friends! Plastic too as it doesn't soak up anything new, but only if you're okay with a plastic smell

ventilate ventilate ventilate the rooms!

Have a list of safe sensories (smells, but also foods, sounds, etc.) to keep track of what you're okay with. To some it's very vague, but others may need specific brands or specific products, this way you can ensure that you're picking something that is pre-checked by you!

Look for stuff with Fragrance-free, hypoallergenic (not a guarantee), bio (not guarantee) in it, usually contains less fragrance!

Focus on keeping things clean to avoid smells! You or your regressor need protection against the smells <3

Take breaks if needed. Even the bravest regressor has moments where they want to retreat, and that's perfectly fine! Being a little is all about taking one step at a time, and it's up to you to decide the tempo. It's your coping mechanism and nobody else's

#age regression #agere blog #sfw interaction only #agere #age regressor #sfw age regression #sfw agere #littlespace blog #sensory

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cozzzynook · 6 months ago

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Rodimus giving birth and feeling something is wrong. There's so much blood and his little one isn't coming out. Ratchet ends up breaking his leg to get their sparkling out.

-Bread.

This ask took so long because I wanted it to be one of the best things I could go back and read. I wanted this to be long.

Carrying was…both a beautiful and difficult thing.

The beauty in this was growing a life in his forge tanks that was combined of his own cna and his partners Drift and Ratchet.

The two were conjunx and he was their partner they planned on conjunxing, though he had plenty doubts of being conjunx to them or it lasting long since he was more than a few servo fulls. The two immediately rejected such ideals and told him to get those thoughts from his processor.

Try as he might to hide this insecurity and fear getting sparked made it impossible to do so. He had no choice but to work on the unrelenting pressure that was his thoughts and feelings. And it was all thanks to the result of a glowing orange bio fluid that covered the small pipe rod that he slipped into his valve and rested on the edges of his gestation tank that led directly to his forge.

The glowing light meant one thing and one thing only.

He was sparked.

His frame was so heavy and tired because it no longer worked for only himself but another life that was steadily growing and forming inside him. Made up of Ratchets cna and transfluid and Drifts energon and spark energy.

Truly the bitlet had a mix of all these things from each of them. But he always deep dived the intricacies of it this way. It felt more romantic, more connecting, this way.

He was not as connected during his first few weeks of knowing as he was now.

The first few days he was in denial and determined each of the eighteen tests he took were all flukes.

Then he moved onto the stage of sobbing his fragging optics out and getting angry punching his desk while static bubbles caught his windpipe because he didn’t think they’d want a sparkling and he knows he’s a mess he doesn’t want another person fragged up because of it. Bad enough his now courting conjunx had to deal with it, he didn’t want to burden a fresh new spark with himself too.

Of course Drift found him crying in the lower decks during the dead shift.

Rodimus snuck from berth because he was now hungry and couldn’t recharge without eating.

He hated how he gave in so easily to the cravings, consuming energon just the way Ratchet liked it while eating thick and bitter shaved metals, one of Drifts favorite snacks.

The mech took one look at him as he was crying on the floor eating and put it together so fast Rodimus didn’t have time to sniffle twice or blink the tears away.

Drifts reaction was a helm turner because he was immediately so happy and excited at having a sparkling to being completely concerned about Rodimus and what he wanted.

…he ended up crying into Drifts shoulders while eating because he was still sad and worried while so happy Drift accepted their sparkling but he was also still incredibly hungry and wanted more fuel.

Thats how Ratchet found them half an hour later.

Drift smiling at Rodimus like he had a bolt loose while Rodimus was blubbering as he fueled.

Ratchets processor was still sharp as ever so he could understand what Rodimus was saying pretty well and all things considered he handled the news fairly well.

Did he have to sit down in shock?

Yes.

But did he pull Rodimus and Drift into a tight hug before something clicked in his helm and he was berating Rodimus for keeping it hidden for so long and immediately ran diagnostics on Rodimus calling him a sparked bolt brain?

Yes.

It made Rodimus’s blubbering heavier but it was a good heavy all things considered.

After that Rodimus was never alone seeing as Ratchet or Drift or both mechs were continuously glued to his side.

In the day during his shift Rodimus was with either Drift or Ratchet who stayed next to him on the bridge. If it was after his shift he went to the medbay with Ratchet or the training room with Drift. He hardly spent time by himself save for napping in berth when he didn’t feel like being around either of them or felt a burden. He would not admit a third option of not being able to stay awake because his frame was heavy and tired and his optics would close on their own. He refused to admit such a thing.

Not that he would need to anyway.

Ratchet and Drift knew by how hard he now slept and how often he’d fall into recharge in the middle of watching tv, while sitting for longer than a few kliks, in the wash racks when they took baths together or when he was almost done fueling.

Ratchet and Drift thought they were hilarious putting his fuel or metals under his olfactory sensors and watching him start to eat while still asleep just before waking up and yawning.

That annoyed him every time and he still wishes he could pretend to choke just so they’d stop.

He didn’t want to endanger his sparkling so he didn’t but he really wanted to scare them and get his own laugh. So he decided pranking them in a different way would be better.

It took some patience, quite a bit actually their species carry for a very very long time, but he did it. He got the two back when he was almost a month away from emergence.

He needed their help getting up since he was so big he couldn’t see his own pedes anymore let alone a wide space of the floor in front of him.

The two didn’t ever complain about having to lift him but they did grunt from the strain.

The first few times made him angry at nothing and everything but after that it just made him cry. Another thing he finds himself doing as he looks back.

The prank he played didn’t require tears per se but they did require a real enough facial expression of pain.

Something he did almost perfectly when he stood up and used expired easy clean up energon to pretend his forge fluid broke and that the sparkling was coming.

The look on both their face plates was a memory he couldn’t wait to share with their bitty and a memory that made him almost pee himself with how hard he laughed.

Making it to the bathroom doesn’t count as peeing on one’s self. Ratchet was completely wrong about that just like he was wrong about his assumptions moments that felt and were long ago.

It was mid afternoon when he woke from a surprise nap he didn’t feel coming. He yawned, stretched his arms a tad, shifted uncomfortably with great effort and looked around the room as he felt cramps tangling his tanks.

His forge felt lower and heavier than before and his sparkling was wiggling in an odd position they’ve never done before.

He thought something was off but he didn’t want to raise alarm and it was nothing so he kept himself on guard for anything else strange and decided to get up and waddle around.

Maybe his sparkling just needed some exercise?

Whatever it was he hoped he was doing the right thing.

Getting up took a lot of effort and since Drift was on shift and Ratchet was probably in the medbay he had to get up himself. It proved as challenging as he thought it would and after five minutes he gave up.

His lower back struts were beginning to hurt and his hips were aching from the strain while internally punishing him. He could feel pain strike across his tanks but he’s been feeling that for a while so he’s figuring it was false pulses again.

He was ready to start tearing up at being stuck and immobile when he heard pede steps and Ratchet came into the berthroom.

“Kid? Ya alright?”

Ratchet had an optic ridge raised as he looked him over and he sighed in relief, holding his hands out with an apologetic look Ratchet told him to quit with.

“Yer sparked kid, of course ya need help and I’m old but not that old,” his conjunx growled out, a lot less grumpy than usual.

“Sorry Ratch,” he laughed a tad breathless once standing at an awkward angle to get some comfort. The pain felt like it was growing and the locations were both normal and odd compared to what Ratchet and the books told him.

He was starting to wonder if something was really wrong when he felt the sudden urge to empty his waste tanks.

He hissed, holding his heavy and definitely low tanks as he bent forward, deeply venting as he attempted to ground himself in the pain while Ratchet asked what was wrong with panic in his voice.

He decided to voice his concerns to Ratchet but before he could his modesty panels opened on their own and he felt his waste and forge tanks release themselves without his permission and he gasped from both shock, embarrassment and pain.

“Oh frag, yer in labor kid. Alright, they’re a tad early but this is completely normal and safe. What I want you to do is breathe for me kid, can ya do that?”

He nodded his helm as he remained bent over holding Ratchet’s servo as he called First aid to prep the medbay for emergence and then called Drift who yelled so loud Rodimus could hear it.

The mech got an earful from Ratchet who was helping him slowly waddle towards the wash racks to clean himself off since emergence took a while and he didn’t want him sitting in his own waste, neither did Rodimus, as they waited for Drift to speed inside.

Ratchet was talking to help him stay grounded as they got inside their large bath tub that had room for four mechs when Drift came panting in the door way.

“Bout time ya got here,” Ratchet grouched playfully as he let Drift hold Rodimus up who was still in pain that seemed to only be growing with every passing minute.

“Ratty, it took me less than three minutes and I was on the other side of the ship. Cut me some slack like Roddy. You breathing alright Roddy?”

Drift’s words would’ve been soothing and comforting if not for the steady pain that was becoming so unbearable he grit his denta and now Drifts servo.

“Roddy?”

He felt something drop inside him and with it his knee struts.

Drift caught him at an odd angle but kept him from hitting the ground as Ratchet rushed over to scan him.

“Kid!”

He felt something burning within his tanks and inside his valve that didn’t at all feel like the description he read about in the books and felt the need to push but couldn’t because something felt wrong and his spark knew not to do anything.

But everything hurt so much and it felt like he was on fire from the inside as he felt the weight pressing against his valve tighten and constrict before wiggling and he felt his optics flicker making his vision black as he realized he was screaming in intense pain that momentarily blacked him out.

He was on his back in the water with Drift holding him up bracing him on both sides of his stabilizers while Ratchet looked worried as he felt around his valve and tried to put a servo inside him only for it to be blocked.

“Frag!”

Rodimus felt his spark drop at the loud curse and he screamed gripping Drifts servo at the next pulse that felt worse than the last.

He felt his tanks constrict and something pushed against his hip making him scream out in agony as something moved the wrong way against his internals, hip mesh and valve making it feel like it would rip.

It took five kliks for the pulse to end and by that time he struggled to open his optics and hear what Ratchet was trying to tell him.

“Listen to me kid. This is gonna hurt bad, real bad but its the only way I can make the pain go away and get our sparkling here and keep you alive. I promise, you will be fine after this,” Ratchet promised for all their sakes.

Rodimus understood what he was saying but another pulse came and he tightened his grip almost crushing Drift’s servo but the mech just comforted him and braced him for what he knew was coming.

“Okay kid, on the count of three yer gonna be in extreme pain but Drift’s gonna run you to the medbay where we can fix ya and the sparkling, alright love?”

He sobbed and nodded his helm.

The pain was making his spark hurt and he wanted to comfort Ratchet who never used that name unless he was scared but he couldn’t.

He was just so hot and hurting he couldn’t do anything but try to breathe.

“One,” Ratchet was tense and making optic contact with Drift who felt terrified but had to trust Ratchet, “two,” Rodimus felt a pulse coming on and grit his teeth groaning at the pain as he felt it pass after seven kliks. His frame growing weak as he noticed the glowing life energon in the water.

“Three!”

He felt Ratchet’s servo shoot and wiggle inside his valve and push what he realized was their sparkling back and he smashed his other palm down on the center of his hip and yanked it outward before pulling their sparkling out.

He wailed in agony from the sudden onslaught of pain that wouldn’t grant him the empathy of blacking out.

He stayed awake wailing from the nano klik Ratchet broke his hip to free their sparkling that was stuck to the nano klik he was being laid on the medberth and given powerful sedatives that almost failed to cut through his pain.

The very first thing he saw when he woke was Ratchet and Drift curled up on either side of him while two tiny bundles laid on his chassis.

He woke them with his crying as he touched along their delicate mesh face plates, feeling their dermas, olfactory sensors, optic ridges and the softest part of their closed optics that began to twitch and flicker from his touches as a tiny arm cane up and tried to move him.

They had all their digits and Drifts frame type with his claws.

Their helms had finials just like Drift but they had Ratchets optic color and shape. They even had his scowl which made Rodimus laugh the two sires awake.

They worried over him, Ratchets love language of fussing came full force as he told Rodimus he should’ve woken him immediately while not really meaning it as he checked him over.

Drift helped make it easy for him to hold the twin sparklings that had Ratchets mesh coloring and biolights.

He felt sad they didn’t get anything from him and he was the one who did the hard part, how unfair.

“Beautiful,” he cried, careful not to move since his frame was in a mess of pain and still healing. It would be for a long time Ratchet explained.

The sparklings dropped together and were coming out together which is why it felt so wrong and hurt so much and how they got stuck.

Turns out one mech was hiding behind the other and in true split spark fashion they had the same spark beat down to the last detail almost.

Its easy to miss and thats why no one saw the other or could tell.

He smiled, kissing both their helms.

“You sure made an entrance,” he joked.

Drift and Ratchet weren’t as thrilled by his joke and truthfully he was riding on carrier after emergence high. By the evening or next day he would be a traumatized mess.

But for now, he just wanted to enjoy being with his conjunxs and sparklings.

Primus knows he won’t be doing this again.

#dratchrod #rodimus prime #drift #ratchet #mechpreg #birth complications #emergence complications #transformers mechpreg #dratchet #driftrod #ratchrod #drift x rodimus x ratchet #rodimus prime idw #ratchet idw #drift idw #transfromers

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mystery-twin-mystery-bags · 1 month ago

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✨MERCH REVEAL✨

Have this acrylic charm by @cherryviolets to commemorate the fun times that was Weirdmageddon! It could be yours if you purchase a Mystery Twins Mystery Bag.

All proceeds go to aid for Gaza.

Stan Art by Anna-kitsune3 Poster Art by CBMagus49 Background Art by starryemeralds

Check more in our carrd through the link in the bio for more info on our project raising aid funds for Gaza.

Image Description: A video graphic created to resemble the gift shop in the Mystery Shack. On the desk lies the Mystery Bag, a navy blue pouch with Mabel's shooting star and Dipper's pine tree in the colors of Palestine's flag. Coming out of it are two acrylic charms showing the two sides of it. The first one is of Bill Cipher holding up a margarita glass with a silly straw. He relaxes in a floaty in the water while wearing vacation attire. An island is in the background under an orange sky and the rift. The other side is of a similar image, though this time the ski is blue and normal. Below is a PNG of an annoyed Stan, a speech bubble saying: "A break? Did it take too much effort to take over the town and fail miserably?"

#gravity falls #gaza relief #palestine #mystery twin mystery bag #gaza aid #gaza fundraisers #mtmb #merch reveal

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bfpnola · 2 years ago

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Abolition For Beginners (2023 Edition)

In honor of Tyre Nichols and all others we have lost to policing and imprisonment. In honor of Black History Month. In honor of Better Future Program's mission to educate and serve marginalized youth globally... Let's break down abolition, again. (As usual on Tumblr, tap for better quality.)

Image description below. Written by @reaux07. Proofread by the volunteers and supporters of @bfpnola.

Image Description:

[ID: All of the following slides use a wrinkled, black fabric as their background with black text (bolded red added for emphasis) on top of white boxes with rounded corners. “@bfpnola” is written in the top right corner and the sources for the slide are in the bottom left corner.

Title Slide (No. 1):

Written in red text, “UPDATED FROM 2021 EDITION.” The outlines of the word “ABOLITION” is written line by line 8 times in light grey with the year “2023” written on top in bold, white lettering. Below, written in red within a white bubble and red arrow, it reads “FOR BEGINNERS*.” Across from the bubble, “@BFPNOLA” is in red. Below, in red again, the asterisk mentioned before leads to the following note: “This post is heavily text-based so if you do not learn best by reading, feel free to utilize our Abolition Study Guide in our bio under "Social Justice Resources" instead!” Lastly, white stars and outlines of grey circles can be seen in each corner of the slide.

Slide No. 2 reads:

Abolition is an anti-capitalist, intersectional framework that aims to not only destroy the cages created by various “industrial complexes,” but to create inclusive, effective alternatives for addressing harm. As defined by Dr. Jennie Wang-Hall, an “industrial complex (IC) is a system that creates profit through embedding into social inequities and providing an ineffective product that keeps consumers under-resourced and returning for more.”

The most common examples of such systems? Prison and policing, psychiatry, foster care/family policing, the military, and even the Family (as an institution, not kinship altogether).

Despite common misconceptions, abolition is not just a negation of what currently exists, but an active evolution of what community-based support can and has looked like. Abolition is about the radical working-class imagination, about Black and Indigenous imagination.

If individualistic, reactive, punishment-based strategies are maintained, true accountability and rehabilitation will never exist. Instead, we can choose to be proactive, analyze the circumstances that perpetuate violence, and address harm at the root! Of course, no one is saying that harm will completely cease to exist, but to paraphrase butch anarchist Lee Shevek, wouldn’t it be a profound improvement to expand our capacity to respond to harm and challenge our abusers, rather than being restricted to system-granted authority? Especially when such systems deliberately ignore the suffering of marginalized communities (e.g. people of color, queer and trans folks, women and femmes, Mad and disabled folks, and so on) to begin with?

Sources: @Dr.JennieWH, @ButchAnarchy, Stella Akua Mensah, Erin Miles Cloud, @WokeScientist

Slide No. 3 reads:

Before we continue any further, let’s destroy the myth that cops actually stop violence. First off, we can’t depend on crime stats at face value because this begs the question of who exactly gets to define what counts as a “crime” and why (e.g. drug possession and sleeping in public vs. tax evasion of the wealthy and wage theft). Continuing, crime rates often only reflect violations that have actually been reported, chosen to be shown, and deemed out of line. By this logic, crime rates are simply reflections of cops’ perceptions, not of the material and emotional realities of the proletariat (i.e. the working-class).

As for perpetuating violence, “US law enforcement killed at least 1,183 people in 2022, making it the deadliest year on record for police violence.” (And those are just the deaths that were reported. In our home state of Louisiana, turns out the Jefferson Parish Sheriff’s Office, as of January 12, 2023, has been unlawfully destroying records of officer misconduct for at least 10 years.) Many (69%) of these murders were cases in which no offense was alleged, were mental health or welfare checks, or involved traffic violations and other nonviolent offenses.

This is, of course, without even touching on the involuntary servitude (i.e. enslavement) and maltreatment ongoing in American prisons. How many more deaths must occur before the general public says enough is enough? Or is this acceptable since these are working-class, disabled, Mad, non-white, queer, and trans lives being lost?

Sources: @InterruptCrim, The Guardian, Mapping Police Violence, @VeriteNewsNola

Slide No. 4 reads:

So we agree police are harmful. Why abolition instead of reform? Historically, reforms have either provided further funding to the prison, foster care, and psychiatric industrial complexes and/or just reinforced harmful ideologies surrounding policing as a whole. And trust us, these systems already have more than enough money. In the fiscal year of 2021, at least $277,153,670,501 were spent on federal law enforcement and prisons as well as on police and prisons by state and local governments. Can you even conceptualize a number that large? We could end all American medical debt with that much money. We could even provide clean water and waste disposal to everyone on Earth!

Continuing, reforms like body cameras are pitched as making officers more accountable, that if “done right” policing will actually keep people safe, and that those who do not use excessive force are suddenly no longer guilty of perpetuating centuries worth of systemic oppression. In reality, body cameras require further funding and increase surveillance!

Similarly, civilian oversight boards and the push to “jail killer cops” reinforce the belief that cases of murder, assault, falsifying information, and so on are exceptional occurrences rather than intrinsic to the very nature of policing itself. This is where the phrase “All Cops Are Bastards” comes into play, stating that while the individual character of some officers may be morally permissible, all cops are part of a “bastardized,” or corrupt, system.

Sources: Security Policy Reform Institute, Matt Korostoff, @CriticalResistance

Slide No. 5 reads:

Even laws don’t prevent police violence, e.g. the murder of Eric Garner despite the NYPD passing a policy against chokeholds, or the murder of Daunte Wright despite the passing of the George Floyd Law Enforcement Trust and Integrity Act and a separate Justice in Policing Act of 2020.

Alternatively, we can advocate against the expansion of policing “responsibilities,” i.e. not allowing officers to address Mad individuals in vulnerable states, the housing crisis, or people who use drugs (PWUD). We can reroute funding into non-coercive, peer-led initiatives for harm reduction, de-escalation, first aid, and self-defense. And maybe most importantly, we can reaffirm that EXTENSIVE power can, in fact, be found amongst everyday folks like you and me!

Abolition is not a one-and-done sort of deal but rather a progression of steps toward an infinite future of improvements. The act of building parallel infrastructures and modes of governance while the previous ones still exist is known as dual power. Abolition must begin as dual power. We can start today!

And in building such, these steps cannot: legitimize or expand oppressive systems we aim to dismantle, create divisions between “deserving” and “underserving” people, preserve existing power relations, or utilize exclusionary, one-size-fits-all, standardized treatments.

Sources: @ProjectLets, @HarmReductionCoalition, CrimethInc., Survived & Punished NY

Slide No. 6 reads:

One of the main questions brought up, though, is what abolitionists plan to do in the case of homicide, rape, domestic violence, and other harms. While this is entirely valid, this question seems to imply that 1) police are already effectively responding to such harms rather than perpetuating and/or ignoring them and 2) that there is one collective abolitionist response.

For one, the majority of sexual assault, for example, goes unreported and less than 0.5% of perpetrators are incarcerated. (And this assumes that through the reporting process and incarceration, survivors will somehow find healing, perpetrators will find understanding, and that sexual assault does not continue within prisons.) Meanwhile, let’s use our hometown as one example of many, a complaint of sexual violence is filed against a New Orleans Police Department officer every 10 days and nearly 1 in 5 NOPD officers have been reported for sexual and/or intimate partner violence.

And secondly, we have a plethora of organizations like Critical Resistance and cultures like that of the Diné (Navajo) to learn from and build upon. We don’t have to be stuck within this false dilemma fallacy, that there is only policing or total chaos. Don’t you see that that is the state’s way of constricting communal power?

Sources: @RAINN, @CopWatchNola, @WokeScientist

Slide No. 7 reads:

To expand this conversation, abolition heavily aligns with the political ideal of “anarchism.” Anarchism supports the absence of government and absolute freedom of the individual. And despite its negative connotations, anarchy also reflects an evolution of community-based care rather than just a deconstruction of what currently exists.

A simplified version of its 6 agreed-upon principles are:

Autonomy and Horizontality: define yourself on your own terms, we stand on an equal footing

Mutual Aid: bonds of solidarity form a stronger social glue than fear, support your community

Voluntary Association: associate or don't associate with whomever you wish

Direct Action: accomplish goals directly rather than depending on representatives or authorities

Revolution: overthrow those in power who enforce coercive hierarchies (ex. white supremacy)

Self-Liberation: you must be at the forefront of your own liberation, freedom must be taken

While being an abolitionist does not require alignment with anarchism, it is worth considering how the state plays such an enduring role in various social harms. Concurrently, whenever you treat other living beings with consideration and respect, come to reasonable compromise rather than coercion, and decide to share or delegate tasks, you are already living by anarchist principles.

Sources: Peter Gelderloos, David Graeber

Slide No. 8 reads:

So, how can you get involved? How do we continue the efforts already being made by activists worldwide? After such an overload of information and even more to learn, we understand how political frameworks like abolition can seem daunting, but they don't have to be! Here are some general next steps:

Read the "8toAbolition" steps.

Look into "podmapping" so you know whom to run to when you have been harmed or perpetuate harm.

See if there are any pre-existing mutual aid networks in your community, and if not, start one with your neighbors or peers!

Begin to research issues affecting communities other than your own. Abolition is intrinsically tied to all of us as we are all surveilled. For example, do you understand how prison and policing further ableism, transphobia, or the sex trade? What about policing internationally (see our allies in: the Kingdom of Hawai'i, Palestine, Artsakh, Kashmir...)?

Research the differences between capitalism, socialism, and communism. Abolition and anti-capitalism are foundational to one another as well.

Look into the other industrial complexes we named in the beginning (psychiatry, foster care, the military, the Family...).

Volunteer (remotely or in-person) with organizations like Better Future Program (@bfpnola) to both educate yourself and directly serve your community!

And if you're looking for further reading/listening, BFP offers over 3,000 FREE social justice, mental health, and academic resources in our Linktr.ee, including study guides for beginners. While we can't promise that the struggle for liberation will always be easy, BFP will always do its best to support you in whatever way we know how.

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