#broken phone stim

[angelic-stimz]

mephone3gs stimboard!!

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requested by @a1ter3go !!

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requests open!!

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all gifs made by me!! pls credit back to this post if you use!!

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[redcomet-stims]

Content warning: blades, broken glass

💙💬💛 Song-inspired stimboard: I'm a Controversy by Ado (prod. Pinnochio-P); with color-related theming and technology!

I tried my best to make the theming somewhat fit the meaning of the song...or at least how I see it. I hope this is good and that I did this amazing song justice. This is another one of my favorites from Ado, because I love how gritty and chaotic the music sounds. Ado's voice has this very angry-ish quality to it, and Pinnochio-P's instrumental really adds to it.

When I was trying to read up on the meaning of this song, I saw a few things that made me...kinda annoyed, to say the least. It was a review website and a LOT of them were negative in ways that didn't really make sense to me! One of the reviews was just talking garbage about Pinnochio-P, calling his lyrics something along the lines of "surface level, edgy, and repetitive stuff meant for 12 year olds" (indirect quote, BTW), and that comment made me really pissed. Not every song has to have the most indirect, metaphorical lyrics ever! Music is allowed to have ranty and direct-ish lyrics! And even then, I felt like the lyrics did have a good mix of symbolism and direct comments, which is not a bother, I'd say that's actually good! A lot of people on that website just generally did not like how chaotic-sounding this song is. And no hate, you don't need to like this sound, but I LIKE IT AND IT IS NOT BOTHERING ANYONE. Go off and have your opinion, but you don't need to...trash the song because of it?

And...do the people that are belittling this song realise that they are kinda feeding into what this song is talking about? To me, it's a song about not being seen as "perfect" by the general population, being pressured as an artist because of very high expectations, and it all stressing you out because people always expect everything you put out to be exceptional. That's how I feel about it, at least, I might be a little wrong. Not only is that an important thing to talk about because of how relevant it is to the music industry or general arts in the modern world, but as someone who makes things and likes doing artistic hobbies, THAT MEANING RESONATES WITH ME! I always feel like everything I do and everything I publish to the world has to be perfect, or else I'll be hated for it! This writing is SO REAL to at least a GOOD AMOUNT OF ARTISTS OUT THERE, and I LOVE THAT!!!

...sorry for the rant. I just really like this song.

Sources:

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[skrunksthatwunk]

man i don't even wanna get into it that much but i gotta say this week has been TOO MUCH. AGH. but we're cool(er) now it's just been Non Stop Choice Making And Task Doing

[wanderingpeonies]

i ran out of room in the tags but i think thats everything maybe

edit: i didn’t even include necessity stuff i carry for school??? pencils and pens and highlighters and sharpies, my graphing calculator, small post-its, and a big ass binder full of all my papers for classes and shit

im so curious abt what ppl carry around on the daily.....rb & tag what's in ur pockets/bag?

[notawitchbutabitch-blog]

I am spring cleaning by removing all my mental wellness apps from my phone, because this year's software update leaves me 10 kb that are not just OS.

They didn't ever work for longer than a month, but they were aspirational

[elliesluckycharm]

don't text me, ex ellie williams one shot

sinopse: you and ellie broke up due to her commitment issues and you've been non contact until she calls.

cw: lowercase intended, swearing and alcohol use and "drunk"? sex, semi public sex, not explicit if reader is fem or masc. use of nicknames like babe and my love.

wc: 2,9k

nsfw/smut: ellie bottoms. tit play (r receiving), clit stim and pinching (e receiving), fingering (e receiving), cum eating (r)... i think thats it?

a/n: okay uh im gonna kms bc this was meant for @breathinlove but alright.

you and ellie had broken up a few months ago. you have been no contact ever since, you blocked her everywhere except her number. you told her not to contact you if she didn't need anything.

but she'd called today.

you were in bed with your best friend kamala, she noticed you suddenly sitting up.

“what?” she touches your shoulder as you look at the screen. “ellie? don't pick up, y/n” she looks at the phone over your shoulder.

“i told her to only contact me if she needs anything…” you sigh, but the phone stops ringing and you bite your lip as you look at kamala, worried expression.

“hey, if she actually needs anything she'll either call again or text.” she pats your shoulder and you nod.

ellie doesn't call again, but you get a text.

«sorry about that, hope ur okay»

“um, i guess she didn't mean to call.” you roll your eyes after texting her back with a «don't worry, hope ur okay 2», which she saw and reacted with hearts.

“girl, yes she did, she let that thing ring for ages.” kamala scoffed.

“whatever kami, let's just forget about that. she's literally with cat.”

“it's insane that she broke up with you because she ‘couldn't be in a relationship’ and ‘felt trapped’ and now she's with cat.”

“i know but well, she just couldn't be in our relationship i guess.” you chuckle and hug kamala. “why are we still talking about this shit…?”

and then you drop this subject, and it was true… ellie broke up with you along those lines. she had met you at your house and held your hand, kissed your forehead before leaving. now, she has been going out with cat. you hadn't completely moved on but what's over it's over, you didn't want any messiness.

weeks pass by, you usually see ellie at college, you both curl your lips in an awkward smile. you do it out of respect but it hurts to act like you were never close.

today wasn't any different, film class and you're sat at the back. she got in late, she sat down at the front. you noticed her and followed her with your eyes but you didn't expect her to look around to the back of the class.

you lock eyes and she stares a little before turning back, you feel uneasy. class passed by and you don't interact in any way and you decide to talk to her after class.

she gets ready to leave and you run down the classes stairs to catch her.

“ellie.” you call out reaching for her shoulder but she turns around to face you before you can.

her green eyes pierce through yours, you hadn't seen those freckles from so close in months. you blink a few times in a roll.

“um… yeah? sorry i called.” her voice is raspy and she looks awkward, as if you don't know each other.

“you let the phone ring.” you mumble, her eyebrows almost touch as she looks confused.

“yes? i'm sorry.” she takes a step back as you do the same.

“so you meant to call. it wasn't a mistake?” you ask, you sound calmer.

“yeah, i did… but i know i shouldn't have, you did the right thing by not picking up.” she looks at your lips for a second before you curl them up in a sympathetic smile.

“i was going to. thought you might have needed something.” you hold your own shoulder. “you okay?”

“no, yeah… i'm okay i was just… i don't know.” she rambles awkwardly and you chuckle. “are… you okay?”

it felt weird talking to her, but she was still the same. she toyed with her fingers nervously as she always did.

“yeah, i am.” you breathed out before straightening your back. “what did you wanna say?”

“that, i've… been” she chokes on her words, you examine ber face, letting her speak. “thinking ‘bout you.” now it's your turn to internally choke.

“you don't need to tell me that.” you bite your lip as you start walking down the starts and she does the same as everyone's leaving the classroom.

she lowers her head to face her feet as she thinks of what to say but all she says is “i know.” you turn to face her after you leave the classroom.

“i'll see you” you say, she nods and leaves as you walk towards the bathroom.

your eyes water as soon as you enter the bathroom, you let out the breath you had been involuntarily holding. you decided this meant no contact was as rough as her as on you, even worse since she decided to call you at 3pm on a random saturday. but it didn't mean anything other than that, it's hard not to talk to someone you used to talk all the time and you understood that.

when you're walking to your next class you see cat running towards ellie and jesse. she kisses both of their cheeks and you wave to them, mostly jesse, who gives you a sympathetic look and waves back. cat doesn't see you until ellie raises her hand, cat waves at you then.

you and cat were neighbors during all your childhood, she was really nice, artistic, down to earth but still had a bubbly personality. you honestly liked her, which hurt.

kamala had texted you about this party next saturday at dina's, her cousin who ‘happened’ to be jesse's long term girlfriend and ellie's best friend. you, dina and kamala had been friends since the start of college and your breakup with ellie wouldn't change that.

ellie would obviously be there, so you decided to give it more than one thought. you didn't want to see her if it made you feel so small, but you couldn't stop doing what you usually do just to avoid her.

so you decided to go. you hadn't talked to dina that much about ellie to be honest, you didn't want this to become something where people had sides to take.

you and kamala go to the party a little later than supposed, the party was already crowded. you find dina and walk up to her to hug her.

“hey dina! nice party.” you hug her excitedly and she chuckles as she pats your back.

“it's a generic one, thanks though baby” she looks at you up and down as you back away. “you look good, girl.”

“you look hot, dee.” you smile wide and she gives you a gentle push towards her drink table. “go grab a drink, you too kamala!” she calls her cousin out.

kamala starts grabbing a drink but your eyes land on ellie, who was at the corner of the room. she saw you and stepped away from the wall she was leaning on.

“is ellie here with cat?” you ask dina as ellie walks up to you. dina nods no. “really?”

“yeah, they went out a few times but ellie said they were better off as friends…its been a while already” she shrugs.

“i see.” you tense up as ellie gets closer. “hey ellie.”

“what's up?” she smiles as she nodded at dina.

“nothing…” you shrug, your lower lip between your teeth and she clicks her tongue, staring you down.

“yeah umm, can we… maybe talk? i mean, i will text you?” she asks in a lower tone, you look around for nothing.

“sure, we can. what about?” dina had leave your side, and you were left alone with her and some strangers next to the wall.

“me. i miss you.” she breathes out and you squint your eyes. “i do. can we please talk?”

“didn't you feel trapped with me? in our relationship?” you scratch your forearm. she takes your hand off it and you look up at her.

“no, i felt trapped but it wasn't you who trapped me. you never limited me. i just wanted to get out a bit, try new things maybe.” you scoff and snap your hand from hers.

“you needed a break from me? to try out new things? like what…? cat?” you sound annoyed by all this now and she's quick to argue.

“no…no, y/n. i thought i did but… i still miss you alright? and cat… i thought could move on to something but i didn't”

“ellie, i'm sorry but… you can still move on. i'm… sorry it didn't work out with cat? but that has nothing to do with me.” you try to call down as she gulps and looks to the side.

“i'm sorry.” she mutters, she sounds embarrassed but she nods. “you're right. i can move on, i don't want to.”

“ellie, this is not the place for this but… yeah we can talk, i can text you.” you sigh and she nods.

“alright, text me when you can.” you nod and leave to find kamala.

you tell her about it and she says ellie is embarrassing herself and you can only say you feel bad but also annoyed by this behavior. you see ellie a few times during the party and you just smile at each other.

you definitely still love ellie, you do wish you had never broken up but it was her who did this and you didn't feel like you could get back together just like that. you'd let her say what she had to say, you respected her, but you didn't think this would end up in rekindling things.

you were dancing with kamala, a little drunk already, when you felt a little hot. you went into the kitchen to grab water. ellie was there, her hand on her forehead.

“hey…” she looks up, recognizing your shoes. she looked a little drunk herself, cheeks flushed. “are you okay?” she saw you stumble.

“yeah i'm fine actually, i have been drinking though, came for a water bottle.” you chuckle and she nods a little as she holds her own head. “who's driving you home?”

“ugh… actually… no one” she chuckles back and shoot her an worried look. “hey, don't worry i'll wait until i sober up a little, i know it was dumb but it's okay.”

“yeah… you better… drink some water maybe.” you walk up to her with another water bottle, she takes it and mumbles a ‘thank you’.

“i feel like the floor's kinda moving.” she looks up to you now.

“you're just light headed. and a lightweight.” you chuckle as you get closer to her.

“yeah right…” she laughs and looks at your lips as you get closer. “you smell nice.” she takes a huge sip out the water and grabs your hand pulling you closer, you let her.

“thank you, you look real good.” your drunken self speaks and she leans on your shoulder, you feel her breath against your neck, making your breath heavier.

“you've such pretty lips.” she mumbles as she lifts her head back up and her lips ghosts against yours. she holds you closer as you hold her arms.

your alcohol breaths fan eachother's lips and faces, you hands fall on her torso and she grabs your hips.

“i wanna kiss you.” you drop your face on the crook of her neck and you sigh. she puts her water bottle down on the marble you were both leaned against only to cup your face, making you face her again.

“you know i'll kiss you back.” and you kiss her, liquor tasting kiss as your tongue pass through her lips.

she moans when you do, holding you so close your leg ends in the middle of hers. you're now running your hand up and down her torso and hip. her arms wrapped around you.

“needed this.” she groans and your grab her hair tightly.

“i need you.” you reply, kissing her deeply. she moans again, her hand finds your thigh and she lifts it.

“have me” she whispers in your ear. she's thrusting her hips as he holds your leg up by your thigh.

you make out feverishly, kisses your neck and you start panting and she grins against your neck. you felt your panties damp.

“bathroom?” you suggest as she starts shamelessly grinding her clothed pussy on your thigh. she nods frantically mumbling ‘please's as she lets go of your thigh and grabs your hand.

she pushes your body with her own, grabbing your waist to turn you around, her crotch against your ass as she walks you to the bathroom.

“don't trip, babe.” she jokes and kisses your neck.

“make sure you don't either, my love.” you giggle and now she's next to you. you look at eachother.

her cheeks are flushed pink and you smile at her, she opens the bathroom door and you get in. she kisses you now, grabbing your ass.

“i want you so bad, y/n. please.” she kisses your neck and you push her back. “what?”

“block the door.” you kiss her as her back hits the door, her hand is running up and down your back and around your hips. “missed you so fucking much.” you nibble her neck and she moans.

“i missed you, this. i need you right now” her hands go up your shirt and she sounds needy as fuck, grinding poorly on your hips. your hands find her stomach. “it's been too fucking long.”

you can feel your clit throb as she talks to you. you suck her earlobe and she grinds even more.

“so eager…” she pinches your nipple when you tease her, you whine out and she kisses you again.

“take this off, babe.” she says, tugging your shirt and you do what she tells you to. she goes in on your tits immediately. “yeah? you like that?” she asks as she nibbles the skin before sucking your nipple.

you moan and whimper holding her hair, she only stops when she feels your fingers tugging her belt.

“let me touch you.” you ask, she quickly unlatches her belt and you unzip her pants.

“i can't do this anymore…” she tilts her head back and you give her what she wants, tugging her jeans down.

you cup her pussy over her boxers and she moans, head hitting your shoulder.

“wet and warm, huh?” you whisper and she starts kissing you again. groping your tits with one hand and the other on your back.

your fingers ghost her slit, but you start caressing her inner thigh and hips, opening her legs. she grunts and starts trying to grind her pussy on your hand, which makes you press her hips against the door.

“stay still, now, alright? i'll get to it… promise.” you mumble, enjoying her body and how eager she was.

she nods, now grabbing your ass and thighs. you kiss her cheek and tug her panties to the side

“good girl” she grunts when your fingers run over her sticky slit. she was soaked in her slick.

you tease her clit and entrance with your fingertips, she moans and tried to grind against you.

“fuck, be quick with it.” she grunts and you frown. “please.” you slide two fingers into her pussy when she pleads. she gasps and grips your hair, taking your lips in a sloppy kiss.

she grinds her clit against your hand as you thrust your fingers in and out at the perfect pace she never stopped thinking about.

“more.” she moans between kisses.

“more what?” you start rubbing her clit with your other hand. “this?” she moans and nods.

“yeah… thanks.” you chuckle as she thanks you, kissing her neck again.

you look up at her eyes closed and cheeks flushed pink, her hands moving from your back to your shoulders. you speed up as you look at her.

you get the vision you wanted, her closed eyes squint, broken pants leave her open lips… you moan at the sight and the feeling of her wet pussy clenching around your fingers and her legs shaking, threatening to close around your hand.

“oh… you feel so good ellie, fuck.” you pinch her clit and she moans louder “yeah, keep those legs open for me.”

she cries out as she nods, her pussy clenching hard when you moan seeing her cry.

“please i'm so close.” she grunts through gritted teeth. “don't stop.”

“relax, you're so tight…” her stomach tenses and she relaxes and you reach deeper. “god…” you moan.

she moans non stop and her legs shake even more as she cums all over your fingers. you fuck her slowly as she comes down from her orgasm, hand leaving her clit.

you're both panting and she holds you by your back as you take your fingers out of her pussy only to look down and see her creamy cum on your fingertips and around her entrance. your pussy throbs at the sight.

you weakly get on your knees, sucking her cum off your fingers to lick the cum on her pussy. she grips your shoulders.

“you're so good to me.” she mumbles as you get up, tugging her boxers and pants up.

[mingi-s-dimples]

At his mercy - hj

KINKTOBER DAY 24, REQ. BY anon

~"hongjoong tortures y/n by strapping a vibrator onto her pussy and tying her limbs, causing y/n to squirm and stop for him to make it stop. hongjoong edges y/n by turning the vibrator off everytime she's abt to come."

pairing: dom!hongjoong x sub fem!reader

genre: 18+, bdsm au

summary: one broken rule of his would bring you on the edge of being desperate and begging.. for him

wc: 3.2k

warnings: bdsm au, dom/sub relationship, harsh dom!hj, whiny sub!reader, use of toys (vibrator), lots of edging, denied orgasms, crying (out of overstim), slight dacryphilia, use of restraints (he uses soft scarfs to tie her up, and the toy), kissing, neck holding, neck grabbing, slight choking, clit stim, some praising here and there, completely consensual, for sure forgot something, will edit later.

Author's Note: I love writing bdsm style fics sm... y all can see one of my personal kinks ups🧍‍♀️it s all good tho, I love conveying my thoughts whenever I write bdsm typa fics 🤭 I'm so so into the edging thing I'm going insane... anyways, anon, enjoy !!! 🤗💖

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

The soft glow of twilight filtered through the curtains, casting shadows across the room that felt heavier than usual. You had been home for barely an hour, your shoulders aching from the weight of the day, when the realization hit you like a jolt of lightning: your phone was dead.

You froze mid-step, the memory of Hongjoong’s firm words echoing in your mind.

“Keep your phone on, *always.*”

It wasn’t a casual request. In your relationship—both romantic and deeply rooted in the careful dynamics of trust and power—it was one of the fundamental rules. His rules weren’t arbitrary; they were meticulously crafted with your safety and the trust you had placed in him at their core.

But today had been a whirlwind. You’d been caught up in errands, lost track of time, and when your phone had died, you’d brushed it off. *I’ll charge it when I get home,* you’d thought. It didn’t seem like a big deal at the time.

Now, as you stared at the lifeless device in your hand, your stomach sank. You knew Hongjoong would already be home, and you could practically feel the weight of his disapproval before even stepping into the bedroom.

A deep breath did little to steady your nerves as you opened the door. The sight of him, seated on the edge of the bed, confirmed your fears. He was dressed impeccably, his shirt sleeves rolled up to reveal his forearms, a casual elegance that only heightened the intensity of his presence. His head lifted as the door clicked shut behind you, his dark eyes locking onto yours.

“You’re late,” he said evenly, his voice calm but sharp enough to send a shiver down your spine.

“I’m sorry,” you blurted, your hands tightening around your dead phone. “I—”

He raised a hand, cutting you off. “Spare me the excuses.”

He stood, his movements deliberate, and the sheer authority radiating from him made your pulse quicken. As your Dom, Hongjoong’s presence carried an unspoken weight—a mixture of love, control, and safety wrapped in his unwavering confidence. Tonight, though, you could feel the shift in the air, the tension crackling between you like an unstruck match.

“You were unreachable for hours,” he said, his tone quieter now, but no less commanding. He crossed the room with slow, measured steps, stopping just in front of you. “Do you know how dangerous that is?”

“I wasn’t thinking,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“No,” he agreed, tilting his head slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. “You weren’t. And because of that, you’ve broken one of my rules.”

The weight of his words settled heavily on your chest. Hongjoong wasn’t one to lose control or raise his voice; his power lay in his restraint, the deliberate way he handled every situation. You knew how much effort he put into crafting your dynamic, ensuring that every boundary, every rule, was there to protect and guide you.

“Tell me,” he continued, his voice deceptively soft, “what happens when you break the rules?”

You hesitated, heat rising to your cheeks. “There are consequences.”

“Good girl,” he said, nodding once. “Then you understand why we’re here.”

A thrill of nervous anticipation coursed through you, your body already responding to the subtle shift in his demeanor. This was no longer just about the broken rule or the dead phone. This was about his rule—rebuilding it, reaffirming it, and reminding you of the structure you had both agreed to.

“Strip,” he said, stepping back just enough to give you space.

You swallowed hard, your fingers trembling slightly as you reached for the hem of your shirt. There was no hesitation in his gaze, no flicker of doubt. His command wasn’t rooted in anger but in the unshakable confidence that this was what you both needed.

Piece by piece, you removed your clothing, the vulnerability of the act heightening your awareness of every movement, every breath. When you were finally bare before him, he gestured toward the bed.

“Sit.”

You obeyed, perching on the edge of the mattress, your heart racing as he reached into the bedside drawer. He pulled out the familiar length of silk—a scarf he often used during scenes—and the sight of it made your stomach flutter.

“Hands,” he instructed, his voice firm but not unkind.

You lifted your hands, palms up, and he moved closer, the scent of his cologne washing over you as he carefully bound your wrists. The fabric was cool against your skin, the knot secure but not too tight—a reminder of the balance he always maintained between control and care.

Once your wrists were bound, he stepped back, his eyes raking over you with an intensity that left you breathless.

“Do you know why this is happening?” he asked, his voice low and steady.

“Because I broke the rules,” you replied softly, your cheeks flushing under his gaze.

“More than that,” he said, leaning in slightly, his presence overwhelming in the best way. “Because you forgot what it means to me. To let me protect you.”

The words hit you like a bolt of lightning, your heart clenching at the weight of his words.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, the sincerity in your voice evident.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your jaw as he tilted your chin up to meet his gaze. “I know you are,” he said, his tone softening slightly. “But sorry isn’t enough. You need to feel this—so you don’t forget.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, anticipation thrumming through your veins as he stepped back. Slowly, he climbed onto the bed, his movements deliberate and precise. He positioned himself above you, his hands braced on either side of your head, and the sheer proximity of him made it hard to breathe.

“You trust me,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent heat coursing through your body.

“Yes,” you replied without hesitation.

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, sir.”

A small, satisfied smile tugged at his lips. “Good.”

He leaned down, his breath warm against your skin as he pressed a kiss to your temple—a gesture that was both comforting and charged with electricity. Then, without another word, he began his work.

His hands moved with practiced ease, tracing a slow, deliberate path over your body. Every touch was calculated, designed to heighten your awareness and leave you yearning for more.

Hongjoong’s eyes gleamed with something primal as he pulled back slightly, his fingers trailing down the curve of your waist, leaving a path of fire in their wake. Without breaking eye contact, he reached back into the drawer. The faint hum of anticipation in the room grew sharper as he retrieved a small, sleek vibrator.

The sight of it made your breath hitch. He held it up between you, tilting it slightly, the light catching its smooth surface. His thumb hovered over the button, and with a soft click, it came to life—a low, teasing buzz that made your body tighten in response.

“This,” he said, his voice dripping with authority, “is for me to control. Just like you.”

A shiver coursed through you as he climbed off the bed, placing the vibrator down for a moment. He grabbed another length of silk, this one thicker, from the drawer and leaned down to secure your ankles to the bedposts. His touch was firm but careful, ensuring the bonds were snug but not uncomfortable. The vulnerability of having your legs spread and tied left you quivering.

With your wrists already secured above you and your legs now restrained, Hongjoong stepped back to admire his work. His gaze traveled over your body, appreciation and dominance mingling in his eyes.

“Look at you,” he murmured, almost to himself. “Completely at my mercy.”

You couldn’t hold his gaze, your cheeks heating as you squirmed under his scrutiny. But the sound of the vibrator clicking to a higher setting snapped your attention back to him.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone sharp enough to cut through your haze.

“Yes, sir,” you stammered, your voice shaky.

He smirked, the corners of his mouth lifting in that way that always left you breathless. Slowly, he climbed back onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight as he positioned himself between your thighs.

“I’m going to teach you,” he said, running the vibrator along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, just shy of where you wanted it most. “Teach you to listen. To remember who you belong to.”

The vibrations against your skin were maddening, a tantalizing promise of what was to come. Your hips instinctively arched toward him, but he pressed a firm hand to your stomach, holding you in place.

“Uh-uh,” he said with a click of his tongue. “You’ll take what I give you. Nothing more.”

“Yes, sir,” you managed to whisper, your voice barely audible over the hum of the vibrator.

The heat in his gaze intensified as he trailed the toy higher, stopping just at the apex of your thighs. The anticipation was unbearable, your body trembling as he kept you on the edge, never quite giving you what you craved.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft but full of power. “Now let’s see how well you can obey.”

The sound of the vibrator’s low hum filled the room as Hongjoong continued his torment, letting it hover just close enough to make your body tighten, only to pull it away at the last second. His precision was maddening, each pass over your skin deliberate and cruel in its restraint. You could feel your orgasm building—heat pooling deep within you, your breaths turning ragged—but just as you neared that peak, he stopped.

A desperate whimper escaped your lips as your body ached for the release he denied you.

“Ah, ah,” Hongjoong tutted, clearly relishing your reaction. His smirk was wicked as he trailed the toy lightly along your stomach, far from where you wanted it. “Did I give you permission for that?”

“N-no, sir,” you stammered, your voice shaky.

“Then why are you acting like you have control here?” he teased, his tone both sharp and teasing as he leaned down, his breath ghosting over your ear. “You don’t. Not tonight.”

Your body trembled as he brought the vibrator back to your clit, the sensations sharp and all-consuming. This time, he pressed it against it with just enough pressure to send your nerves spiraling toward that edge again. Your breaths quickened, your hips bucking against the restraints as pleasure surged through you.

But once again, just as you were about to topple over the edge, he pulled back, switching the vibrator off with a casual click.

“No!” The protest slipped out before you could stop it, your voice thick with desperation. Tears of frustration pricked at the corners of your eyes, and you pulled weakly against the silk holding you in place.

Hongjoong chuckled, low and rich, clearly enjoying your unraveling. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, his voice dripping with amusement as he brushed his fingers gently along your jawline, tipping your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “You’re really not in a position to argue, are you?”

You bit your lip, unsure how to respond, and his smirk deepened. “Since you seem to need a reminder of your place…”

He reached into the drawer again and pulled out a silk ribbon. Your heart raced as he carefully tied the vibrator against your inner thigh, angling it perfectly over your clit, where every nerve felt raw and exposed. He secured it with meticulous care, ensuring it stayed in place.

“There,” he said, flicking the toy back on to a steady, teasing hum. It wasn’t enough to overwhelm you, but the constant stimulation was maddening, leaving you squirming in your bonds.

You let out a soft cry of frustration, your body both desperate for relief and overwhelmed by the unrelenting sensation.

“Comfortable?” he asked, his tone mockingly sweet as he knelt on the bed, watching you with that same unshakable confidence.

“Please,” you whispered, tears now slipping down your cheeks as the frustration became unbearable.

“Please, what?” he prompted, his voice softer now, almost tender.

“Please, sir,” you choked out, your voice trembling.

He leaned down, brushing a thumb across your cheek to catch a tear. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Desperate. Completely at my mercy.”

The hum of the vibrator against you was relentless, the teasing just enough to keep you teetering on the brink without ever letting you fall. Hongjoong’s eyes burned with intensity as he watched you writhe beneath him, the control firmly in his hands.

“Let’s see how long you can hold on,” he said, his voice a mixture of warning and promise, leaving no doubt that he was far from finished.

Hongjoong climbed over you, his presence overwhelming as he hovered above, his knees bracketing your hips. His face was close—so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. The intensity in his gaze was magnetic, holding you captive as he leaned in slowly. When his lips finally met yours, the kiss was firm yet teasing, a tantalizing mix of control and tenderness.

His fingers trailed down your sides, deliberate and unhurried, until they found your thighs. He pressed his palms into the soft flesh, his touch both grounding and electrifying. Without breaking the kiss, his hand drifted lower, brushing over the vibrator tied against you. He pressed it gently against you, just enough to amplify the sensation.

A soft, breathless moan escaped your lips, and Hongjoong broke the kiss just long enough to chuckle—a low, amused sound that sent shivers down your spine.

“You’re so responsive,” he murmured, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Every little touch drives you wild, doesn’t it?”

You nodded weakly, your body trembling beneath him. His fingers resumed their journey, tracing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. When he reached the vibrator again, he paused, applying just enough pressure to make you arch into him.

“Easy,” he murmured, his tone both commanding and soothing. His touch softened, his fingers now trailing upward with featherlight strokes that left you aching for more.

When his hand finally settled over your wet cunt, he didn’t rush. Instead, he teased, tracing slow, deliberate circles on your clit, each movement precise and controlled. You gasped at the sensation, your body straining against the bonds as he continued his careful exploration.

“You’re mine,” he whispered, his voice firm but intimate, as if sharing a secret meant only for you. His fingers continued their torment, each movement designed to draw you closer to the edge without letting you fall.

“Say it,” he commanded softly, his fingers pausing just enough to make you desperate for their return.

“I’m yours,” you whispered, your voice trembling with emotion.

A satisfied smile spread across his lips as he leaned down, pressing another kiss to your lips, softer this time, but no less consuming. His touch remained relentless, a masterful mix of restraint and precision, leaving you completely at his mercy in the best possible way.

Hongjoong’s fingers moved in circles, his touch relentless yet measured, keeping you balanced right on the edge of release. The vibrator’s steady hum against you combined with the pressure of his skilled fingers made your entire body tense, the pleasure building to an almost unbearable peak.

You felt it coming—the moment your body would give in, the flood of the orgasm you so desperately needed. But just as you reached the brink, Hongjoong’s hand stilled, and he pulled the vibrator away ever so slightly, leaving you hanging in exquisite frustration.

A cry of anguish escaped your lips, tears of desperation welling up and spilling over as your body trembled beneath him. Your head fell back against the pillow, your breaths coming in shaky gasps as you looked up at him, pleading silently with your tear-filled eyes.

Hongjoong’s expression softened, but his smirk remained. He leaned in, brushing a strand of hair away from your face, his thumb catching a stray tear on your cheek.

“Poor thing,” he murmured, his voice rich with mock sympathy. “You’re falling apart, aren’t you?”

You nodded, your voice breaking as you whispered, “Please.”

“Please, what?” he asked, his tone deceptively gentle as he tilted his head, his gaze boring into yours. “Say it. Use your words. Tell me exactly what you want.”

Your cheeks burned with humiliation, but the desperation in your chest outweighed any shyness. “Please, sir,” you whimpered, your voice barely above a whisper. “Please let me…”

Hongjoong chuckled, the sound dark and intoxicating. “Oh, sweetheart,” he said, leaning closer so his lips brushed against your ear, his breath sending shivers down your spine. “You’re going to have to beg better than that.”

Tears slipped freely down your cheeks as you swallowed your pride, your voice trembling. “Please, sir, I need it. I can’t take it anymore. Please, let me come. I’ll do anything.”

His smirk faded slightly, replaced by something deeper, more genuine. “That’s my girl,” he murmured, his voice low and soothing. “You did so well for me.”

With a flick of his wrist, he brought the vibrator back against you, his fingers resuming their work, but this time his touch was more focused, more demanding. The build-up was immediate, the sensations overwhelming as he guided you closer and closer to your orgasm.

“Cum, darling… isn't that what you've been asking for?” he said softly, his tone commanding but tender.

The tension in your body snapped, and your irgasm hit you like a tidal force, your body shaking as you cried out in relief. Hongjoong didn’t stop, his fingers and the vibrator easing you through the intensity, grounding you as you came down from the high.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his free hand smoothing over your thigh in a comforting gesture. “Breathe, mhm… this is only the start..”

As your breaths began to steady, the room still thick with the remnants of your pleasure, Hongjoong shifted. The comforting caress on your thigh was replaced by a firm grip on your chin, gently tilting your face to meet his gaze. His dark, smoldering eyes held yours with an intensity that made your stomach flip.

“I hope you’re not under the impression that I’m satisfied yet,” he said, his voice low and velvety, carrying a teasing edge. He leaned closer, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear, his breath warm and deliberate. “We’re just getting started.”

Before you could respond, his hand slid to your neck, his fingers wrapping around it—not enough to hurt, just enough to command your attention, to make you feel utterly claimed. The weight of his touch sent a new wave of heat through your body, an unspoken promise hanging in the air between you.

“Next time,” he said, his voice a blend of a growl and a purr, “if you push me like that, you won’t get to cum so easily. Do you understand me?” He tilted his head slightly, studying your expression as if savoring the moment.

You swallowed hard, the mix of his authority and care electrifying. When you managed to nod, his thumb brushed softly against your jaw, a stark contrast to the intensity of his grip.

“Good,” he murmured, his lips curving into a satisfied smirk. He released your neck, his touch trailing down to your shoulder, and leaned back just enough to take in your flushed, breathless state.

“Now,” he continued, his tone playful yet resolute, “we’ve got a long way to go, darling. I’d suggest you keep up… for your sake.”

NETWORKS:

@blossomnet

@illusionnet

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@mingleshine @musiclovingfairy @crazylittlebisexual @sanhwalvr @arki-sha @artistic-rendition @hongjoongtime117 @cypher-03 @peachy-bell26 @atiny1 @cursed-eastern ?, I can't find your acc 😞

[daechwitatamic]

Vice;Grip || chapter 4 || chs

(banner by @itaeewon)

Vice;Grip (masterpost) NSFW - minors DNI Genre: angst smut fluff, fuckbuddies!au Summary: Make it not hurt, you could have asked him. Or, at least, make it hurt in a way I choose.  A/N: infinite thank you's to @sailoryooons and @eoieopda for beta-ing!!

//

Warnings: Frequent depictions of depression, depressive episodes, panic attacks, and substance abuse (alcohol, weed, and pills referenced). PLEASE know that these characters’ relationships with drugs and alcohol are not healthy and should not be emulated. If these topics are triggering to you, please consider sitting this one out.

Section Specific Warnings: language, recreational drinking, depiction of a panic attack, there is a quick moment where you can infer that reader thinks vernon might be actively su*cidal but that is not the case and this is not outright stated, nip stim, dirty talk, piv sex, reader has a high fever but no specific illness is mentioned, a (verbal) fight with some yelling

wc: 6700

Playlist: you can call me in the middle of the night / you can leave before i wake up in the morning / and it could feel so wrong / but i'll still hold on

5 months ago

Five texts went unanswered.

I’m sorry.

I was so fucked up, I wasn’t saying what I meant.

Call me so I can explain.

I’m really sorry.

Please, Vernon.

Each time, they delivered, but no response came. You thought you might feel better if he told you to go away. The silence felt too open, like nothing was settled. Like maybe you just hadn’t said the right thing yet. Like maybe you could - or should - keep trying.

Four weeks passed; you tried not to let it drown you, tried to tread above the rising water of the situation. You swam through guilt, your own anger, guilt again. The knowledge of what had upset him nibbled at your toes like fish you couldn’t see in the murky depths. You tried to pretend it wasn’t there, that it was only seaweed underfoot.

You tried to reason with yourself; you hadn’t done anything that bad. He’d been upset because you’d implied he’d get bored of you someday - even though of course he would - and he thought… you didn’t know, he thought that was an attack on his character?

(You knew that wasn’t why he was mad.)

Or, because you’d implied that he would leave, when you were the one who’d gone silent before? That was valid, you thought. You had been the one to make him chase, when your grey days swallowed you up.

(You knew that wasn’t the whole truth, either.)

You kicked at the fish, kept swimming on.

Three times, you found yourself on the brink of coming clean to Chan. The first time, it had almost escaped from your mouth, prompted by nothing but your own need to hear someone absolve you; you wanted to tell Chan I think I hurt him, so he could say, it doesn’t sound like it’s your fault.

Chan didn’t lie to you, though, even when you wanted him to. He wouldn’t tell you it wasn’t your fault, because it was. So, you tucked the words back in, zipped them up safely.

The next time, he’d asked - “You still… with that guy?” He’d made a vague hand motion that must have meant still seeing, or still sleeping with.

I messed it up again.

I think I liked him too much.

“It’s been like a month,” you said lightly, like it was no big deal. “We’ve been busy.”

His sideways look was scalding. Chan didn’t lie to you; Chan was used to you lying to him, knew all the signs.

He let it go anyway.

Maybe he knew those signs, too. Maybe he knew without you telling him that you’d let the bunny rabbit instincts win - that you’d hid, scared, the second your fragile, broken brain told you to.

The third time, you almost told him all of it, even that it was Vernon. Chan was having dinner at your apartment, helping you clean up after, when his phone buzzed on the table.

“Hey, hyung,” he’d answered, tilting his head to grip the phone between his ear and his shoulder as he ran water in the sink and started rinsing the plates. “Yeah, I’m in. I don’t know, probably in like twenty minutes? Fifteen if I make all the green lights.”

You listened absently as you picked up the rest of the table - napkins in the trash, utensils tight in one hand, now-empty wine glasses in the other.

“Oh,” Chan said, surprised. “Vernon, too? Nice. Should I stop for beer since there’ll be more of us?”

You dropped a wine glass. Chan helped you sweep, and then you ran the vacuum cleaner. Still, you kept finding errant pieces of glass for days. You carried them carefully to the garbage.

It felt fitting, that hearing his name had caused this.

Twice, you called and left voicemails.

Two days after the argument, you’d called on your lunch break. It had rang six times and then his voicemail picked up.

“Vernon… listen, I know I pissed you off. I’d really like the chance to explain myself when I’m not… you know. I didn’t say it how I meant it. Text me. Or call me, whichever.”

After the four weeks crept by and the rest of your texts went unanswered as well, you tried again.

It took almost a whole bottle of wine by yourself to work up the courage, and you hoped he wouldn’t hear the slur in your voice when you told him, “I don’t know why I’m even calling. It’s been a month. I hate that this is just… unresolved. I hate making people mad. I want to know that you know I’m sorry. I want to know that… well. I just… wish we were talking again. I don’t… I don’t know why I’m calling.”

You sat at the stool by your easel for the first time in years, tested your balance, tucked one foot underneath the way you used to. Your hands shook a little as you mixed a purple so dark it was probably actually just black. You covered the canvas, the color of nine at night in the summertime, and stared at it, watching it dry.

When you could, you switched brushes, used a rounder texture to form something that might pass as clouds along the mottled sky. Then, you painted a full moon; it cracked like an egg.

You liked this, you followed the idea, paintbrush hurrying to chase the inspiration, whites and yellows coloring in whatever it was that might leak from the moon like marrow.

The bottom half of the canvas became a moving, living ocean; the blues were eight at night in the summertime but they looked good together with the hour after. You finished with the moon’s reflective path, a jagged yellow streak that dipped and bobbed through the waves.

You walked to the bathroom and washed your brushes, leaving them somewhere to dry where the cat couldn’t mess with them. Then you went back to the canvas, staring at it from a few feet away, your hands on your hips.

You’d done it - you’d painted something you didn’t want to burn.

One painting, one tiny step back towards the life you’d lost - that you’d let yourself lose, that you’d definitively pushed away.

4 months ago

It rained for three days. You lit lamps during the day, suddenly craved soups even though it was the height of spring and the weather had been consistently warm for weeks. The rain just called for it.

It called for you to sleep, too, luring you into bed with a steady patter against the windows. You slept early, and deeply, the cat curled up near your head. The rain beat against the windows like a metronome, helped your heart rate steady, helped your thoughts slow and settle.

You slept deeply, the sounds of the rain pulling you under, and when you were startled awake a few hours in, it was with no concept of where or who you were.

Your phone was still vibrating, jarring; you scrambled to grab it from the nightstand and the cat scrambled out of the room.

Your mom, you thought wildly. Or Chan.

What else could it be, but an emergency? No one else called at three in the morning. Someone used to, but only on the weekend, and that person hadn’t answered you in over a month.

“H’lo?” you mumbled, eyes too blurry to see the screen. You closed them, pressed the phone tighter to your ear to hear better.

No one spoke, but you could hear breathing - ragged and unsteady.

“Hello?” you repeated, more clearly, starting to wake up a bit, starting to worry. You rubbed at your eyes, then pulled the phone away so you could see the name on the screen.

Of course it was him.

“Vernon?” you asked, like you didn’t believe the word on the screen, but you were met with only silence - even his breathing went quiet for a second, like hearing his name had caused him to hold it. Like he suddenly wasn’t sure he wanted you to know he was there.

You said his name again, like a question, and it sounded like maybe he tried to speak but the noise - choked and quick - faded quickly. Your heart started to race, and certainty settled into your bones: something was wrong.

“Hey,” you said, a little sharply, like maybe he needed to snap out of it. “Are you okay?”

Finally, a word. “Dunno,” he managed, his voice thick.

“I’m coming there,” you said, already throwing the blankets off your legs and staggering to your closet to pull at some sweatpants. “Don’t leave, okay?”

“No,” he protested, but the way he gasped the breath after it cemented what you already knew - he needed you.

Or, he needed someone, and you were someone, and you would have to do.

“I’m on my way. Stay there, okay? Wait for me.” You were hopping on one foot as you said this, pulling clothes and shoes on, frantically reaching around in the dark for things like deodorant and car keys.

When he didn’t answer, you stopped moving, stopped trying to find your things. When you spoke again, your voice came out softer, a gentle plea instead of sharp instruction. “Hansol,” you said, quiet. “Wait for me. Okay?”

He ended the call without promising.

You stayed tucked into the building’s doorframe until you saw the Uber pull up; the rain was coming down in sheets, and you had to run to the car, splashing through still water until you could slide into the backseat. Your feet were soaked.

You spent the first five minutes of the ride wiping rain out of your eyes and trying to wring out the ends of your sleeves; the fabric clung to your hands, wet and cold. Outside the car, the rain water ran down the windows and the windshield wipers ran on the fastest setting.

im on my way, okay?

[ ]

vernon you’re scaring me

When the car pulled to a stop, you jumped out as soon as it was safe, bolting through the rain a second time and letting yourself into the building with the code you knew by heart. You took the stairs two at a time, heart flying. You were at once both scared to death of what you’d find when you got there, and refusing to put the specific fear to words, refusing to consider that it could be an option.

“Where are you?” you called, as soon as you got his door open. The apartment was mostly unlit, but for the light above the sink, and a dim light from the direction of his bedroom. “Vernon?”

You were met with silence and you almost choked on your heart as it climbed up your throat. You slipped off your shoes and made your way inside, heading for his bedroom.

You almost threw up with relief when you found him sitting on the edge of his bed, his head in his hands. The light you saw came from his bathroom - the door was closed almost completely, but light spilled out through the crack.

“What’s wrong, what’s happening?” you asked, inching closer. His hands were clenched into fists and bent back at an angle, veins raised along his tensed forearms. His breath went in raspy and came out in huffs, too quick to be productive.

You were pretty sure you knew what this was. You knelt in front of him, ran your hands over his tensed-up arms once, and then nudged under his chin gently with your forefinger, urging him to lift up and look at you.

He let you, his eyes faraway.

“Panic attack?” you guessed quietly. He nodded once, trying to tuck his chin back down, to look away and hide from the shame of this moment being witnessed - being recognized.

“If I put on my breathing app, will you do it?” you asked.

The sound he made was almost like a laugh. “I’ll try,” he muttered.

You opened your phone and set the app up, placing it on the bed beside him, the light from the screen tinting him pink. You heard the familiar, soothing voice begin to recite the directions, and you rocked back on your heels.

“I’m going to your kitchen real quick,” you told him, putting your hands on his knees to push yourself to standing. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll do the breathing with you in a sec.”

You shivered once as you stood with his fridge open; you’d been in his kitchen plenty of times, but never really perused on your own. Your gaze moved over beer and energy drinks, finally landing on juice. You slapped the bottle on the counter and rummaged in the closest cabinets until you found a glass.

Returning to his bedroom, you could hear your breathing app intoning hold… two… three… four… exhale slowly… two… three… four. It was hard to tell if Vernon was following - his head was still tucked, but his hands clenched and unclenched, like he was trying to return circulation after they’d fallen asleep.

You waited patiently until the breathing cycle ended, then nudged the glass into his hand. When he took it, you sat gently next to him, watching silently until he drank some.

“Where are you at?” you asked, and then started to explain what you meant.

Vernon interrupted; he’d understood the first time.

He usually did.

“Better,” he said, then added, “Not, like, better. But, better. Still buzzing.”

You knew the feeling - you tended to get buzzing in your legs first, then hands, and then it would crawl up your arms and into your chest if you didn’t shake it. When the attack receded, you usually felt it leave your chest first and then work its way slowly back down your arms.

“What usually helps?” you asked. “Is the breathing cycle better, or grounding?”

“Grounding, probably,” he said.

“Start by drinking some juice,” you instructed. “Then, can you tell me five things you see?”

“It’s dark,” he grumbled, but he brought the glass to his lips as requested. You rolled your eyes at his sass and walked over to turn on the lamp he kept on his desk. It cast the room in yellow, all the raindrops on the window suddenly catching the light.

“Now do it,” you said, coming back to sit by him again.

You heard him take a breath. He was better already - hands unclenched now, breathing still a bit quick but not raspy or gasped. “It feels silly to do out loud.”

“I’ll do it, too,” you said. “I see your laptop, your lamp, your cell phone, your dresser, and your very old and embarrassing Blink-182 poster. Literally, Vernon, is it 2003?”

He laughed, closing his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re roasting me right now,” he said, voice still a little thin and breathy.

“Five things you see,” you reminded him firmly.

He huffed in mild irritation. “Hamper,” he recited, finally. “Shoes. Empty Red Bull can.”

You laughed.

“Cologne bottle,” he finished, then looked up at you. “Girl who came out at three in the morning, in the rain, after a month of not speaking, because she was worried about me.”

You spluttered. “I was not.”

He knocked his shoulder into yours playfully. “I have it in writing.”

You let out an indignant breath. “I should have let you suffer alone,” you muttered.

“I’m glad you didn’t,” he admitted, then dutifully drank some more juice.

“Okay,” you said, remembering what you were doing. “Four things you can hear.”

He sighed. “Bossy girl,” he listed, and you whacked at his knee. “Rain. Aircon. Traffic outside.”

You finished the exercise together.

“Now how is it?” you asked, reaching to take his empty glass.

He flexed his hands in front of him. “Buzzing’s down to my hands,” he reported. “Think I’m past the worst.”

“How do you feel, otherwise?”

He grimaced. “Exhausted, honestly.”

You looked at the clock - it was after 4:30 in the morning, almost time for sunrise to begin.

“You should try and sleep more,” you said, starting to rise.

“Stay?” he asked, and you thought you heard a note of, well, panic in it. Like he was scared to be alone again.

Something inside you screamed and beat its fists against your insides, furious and terrified as it felt you melt into goo at his request. Something inside you knew that you were walking into a building on fire. But there was no way you’d stay outside, not now, not if he was in there.

“Of course,” you said, as if it was obvious, as if you stayed over all the time - as if this weren’t, in fact, a first.

He seemed to take in your appearance for the first time, the still-drying patches on your clothes, the goosebumps on your damp skin. “You’re cold,” he said, frowning, like you should have led with that as soon as you came in, handled your needs first.

“I’m okay,” you denied, but he rolled his eyes and leaned over the other side of his bed, coming up with a rumpled black hoodie.

“I promise it’s clean,” he said, a little sheepishly, and you pulled off your damp tshirt and tugged the hoodie over your head, instantly warmer and surrounded by his smell. He left for the bathroom, and when you heard the sink run and the telltale buzzing from his electric toothbrush, you got up and turned his lamp back off. When he emerged, you were under the blankets, huddled warm and cozy inside his hoodie.

When he climbed into bed, you draped yourself over him, a leg over his legs, an arm over his torso, your face pressing against his t-shirt. He wrapped his arms around your shoulders, pulling you in, and you lay in silence for a while, listening to the rain, awash in relief that he was okay - that you two were okay, that he’d let you back in even after you’d fucked it up.

Just as you were starting to drift a little, you felt his chest move under you, and he said, quietly, “I’m sorry for making you come out in the storm. In the middle of the night, too.”

“Don’t,” you said, shaking your head but not lifting it up to look at him. Your words carried out into the dark of the room. “You can call me. You can call me when you need me. I don’t care if it’s late. I don’t care if it’s… a hurricane, or whatever.”

It was too honest. It was too close to the truth. You shivered in the dark again, and you felt him hold you tighter for a second, as if to chase the chill away.

He let the moment go, didn’t chase it down and shine a light on it. But you know he heard you - you think, probably, he heard the whole thing, all the parts you didn’t say.

You waited in silence again, let the moment go, let the rain wash this away, too. Then, you ventured, “I’m sorry for what I said to you, last month. Really.”

You felt him nod above you. “I know. It’s… it’s okay.”

Is it? you wondered. But you didn’t push it - because you were scared that his forgiveness was fragile and might shatter if pressed, because you’d already admitted something you weren’t sure you’d meant to tonight, because saying anything seemed wrong while you were between his arms with the rain serenading you both from outside.

You drifted off; you woke up with his hands on your skin beneath his hoodie. You sighed, eyes still closed, as he refamiliarized himself with your body. You breathed in deeply when his fingers brushed up your stomach and found your breasts, teased over your nipples so lightly that it almost tickled, made you shudder in place.

You felt his lips at the nape of your neck, and that made you shiver, too. He pressed kisses along the tops of your shoulder as he teased one peak and then the other, finally giving in to your tiny, needy noises and rolling both buds between firm fingers. You moaned, long, feeling it pulled from deep within you until he let go, soothing over the spots with warm palms.

“Missed that sound,” he murmured against your back, and you pressed back against him desperately, suddenly sure that if he wasn’t inside you this instant you would completely lose it. You reached backwards, grabbing at his hips, trying to pull him closer.

“Need you,” you whined, hating it but knowing it was true anyway, the need larger than the embarrassment. You could feel him pressing against your ass, too many layers between you, and you shifted against him, hoping to spur him into action.

He hummed, pleased, and slid a clever hand back down over your stomach and past the waistbands of your sweats and panties, groaning low in his throat when he found arousal pooling between your legs. He barely bothered to work you open, likely feeling the same desperation you were after the time apart. You felt him shimmy out of his shorts, then his hands back on your skin as he peeled away your bottoms as well.

You kicked them off of your ankles and inhaled as you felt him slide along your slit, teasing at your entrance. He kept one hand up your hoodie, pressed against your chest to hold you tight against him, as he pushed into your heat one inch at a time. You heard yourself make a sound you couldn’t name, somewhere close to a whine, as you felt each bit of him rub against your walls as they struggled to adjust.

“Fuck,” he breathed, mouth close to your neck. “Tighter than I remember.”

He bottomed out and stilled, that one hand still holding you tight against his body. You closed your eyes and felt the moment: his heart beating against your back, your own pulse thundering through your limbs, your pussy pulsing around him as it adjusted and fluttered, his breath warm and steady on your skin, his hands soothing and grounding as they held you tight, the rain still falling steadily outside. You stayed still, eyes closed, as he caressed your hips, your lower belly, your thighs, as he pressed chaste and feather-light kisses along your shoulder.

Finally, he shifted, fucking into you in small movements, barely withdrawing at all before tilting his hips to push back in. You rocked back against him, silently begging for more.

He pulled out almost completely, and then slid back in; the sound you let out bordered on a sob, your nerves alight and sizzling as he began repeating the motion, each stroke slow and long, unhurried, burying himself as completely as he could. You floated like this, completely enveloped by him, still wearing his hoodie, as he took his time with you, until you couldn’t bear it anymore.

“More, Vernon,” you begged, “please.”

“As you wish,” he teased, and used his knee to move yours, bending your leg and hooking it up around his to open you up more, to give himself more room as he set a quicker, steady pace. Relieved, you matched his strokes, half-tempted to roll over so you could kiss him, but not wanting to lose even a second of the delicious feeling of him stretching you, of the friction that made your eyes want to roll back and your toes curl up.

It took you completely by surprise when he began pistoning into you, holding you in place by your waist, and a gasp flew from your mouth, morphing into a series of moans and cries as his hips battered at yours. Even more so when he grabbed at your thigh and tugged, rolling you onto your back and readjusting himself over you, slipping right back in as you wrapped your legs around him and tried to pull him closer.

His pace slowed only marginally as he grabbed at your hands and raised them above your head. Bent close over you, you finally got what you’d wanted the whole time - his lips finally found yours and you kissed hungrily as he fucked you deep. Above your head, you felt your fingers curl against his, lacing together. You squeezed his fingers tight when you came, his name slipping from your lips as your legs shook and your world went white. Vernon came with a cry, eyes squeezed shut and teeth clenched as he emptied himself in your still-pulsing heat, and then collapsed next to you, both of you panting.

“Shower?” he asked, when he’d caught his breath.

You tilted your phone so you could see the time. “I should probably just go home,” you admitted. “I have work.” This realization hit you - you’d gotten maybe four and a half hours of sleep, and not even all at once. Thank god it was Friday and you only had one day to struggle through.

He nodded, understanding. After you dressed, he wandered after you like a shadow. “You around tomorrow night?” he asked, and you could hear the effort to sound off-handed.

“Yeah,” you said, eyes flicking to his for a second. “Yeah, I’ll be around.”

When your ride pulled up and you stepped outside, you shielded your eyes from how bright everything was in the early morning light after days of gloom and clouds. Around you, everything glistened and sparkled, still wet from the days of incessant rain, as if everything you could see had been washed clean.

3 months ago

hi :]

what’s wrong with your face?

are you insulting my smiley?

again i ask you: is it 2003?

im gonna ignore that. come over?

can’t, sorry. i’m sick

whats wrong with u?

should i start listing?

ha ha. girl stuff?

vernon!!!!

lmao i mean if its not that i figured youd just tell me whats wrong

i have a fever, you ass

It was true - you’d carried your comforter from your bed to your couch that morning and had barely moved since. The cat was on top of your legs and you didn’t have the strength or energy to move him. Through the day, your fever had risen; you hadn’t helped things by refusing to get up, which meant you were probably dehydrated. As Vernon texted you, you took mental inventory of how badly everything on your body hurt - your limbs, your hips, everything ached. The pain in your head was sharp and bloody, and you felt like you were sweltering even though your feet were ice cold.

You felt too miserable to even watch a show; instead, you looked around your living room absently. You were pretty sure you were seeing colors off to the side, hazy swatches of red and blue.

Well, you thought dryly, that’s not good.

Then, your hallucinations took form, because the couch was dipping under you and someone was placing a cool hand against your head. You closed your eyes, leaning into the touch just because the coolness felt nice.

“You need to drink something,” someone told you.

“I had the lemonade,” you said.

There was a pause. “I don’t… think there’s lemonade here. Hey - wake up and look at me.”

You blinked, and looked towards the voice. The world’s most beautiful man looked down at you, frowning.

“Wow,” you heard yourself. “You’re so handsome. What are you here for?”

He laughed. “I’m here to take care of you,” he said. “I’m bringing you water, okay?”

You frowned. “I don’t want water. My throat hurts. I want juice.”

There was another pause, and then the voice came again, from further away. “I’ll bring you juice, but you need to drink water now.”

Then he was back, snapping in front of your face. “Hey, look at me again. This is serious. Have you taken any medicine? I don’t want to give you double of something and overdose you.”

“I don’t think I’ve left the couch today,” you told him honestly.

“Okay,” he said, and you didn’t remember him moving or leaving but he was somehow pressing pills into your hand, waiting for you to place them on your tongue before handing you a plastic cup full of water.

“Drink all of it,” he instructed.

“You’re too pretty to be so bossy,” you grumbled around the mouthful of pills.

He waited until you drained the cup. “I’m going to go to the store,” he told you. “Can you think of anything else you need besides juice?”

You didn’t remember if you answered him, or even him leaving. You think you slept. When you woke, someone was rummaging around your kitchen.

“Chan?” you called, blearily.

Instead, Vernon poked his head around the corner of your kitchen, a grocery store bag hanging off his arm.

“Hey,” he said. “How do you feel?”

You blinked at him. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but what the fuck are you doing here?”

His smile widened. “Your fever must be down a little. You need anything? You still want juice?”

You just stared at him, bewildered. He finished putting away a few more things and then came back out to you, pressing a hand to your forehead.

“Definitely lower,” he said. “Do you have an actual thermometer? I couldn’t find it.”

“Yeah,” you said, still confused. “In my bathroom. Vernon, seriously, what’s going on?”

“Come on,” he said. “You should shower and put on clean pajamas and then maybe try to eat some of the soup I got.”

You shook your head. “I don’t think I can shower,” you admitted. “I don’t think I can stand up that long.”

He held out his hand. “I’ve got you. Just a quick rinse.”

He helped you off the couch and into the bathroom, where you sat on the closed toilet while he started the water and got it running warm, but not hot. You kept silent as he helped you undress, as he held your hand while you gingerly stepped over the bathtub’s lip, your legs aching.

“You okay?” he checked, once you were behind the shower curtain.

“Mhm.”

“Okay. I’m going in your room to get you clean clothes to put on.”

“Hurry.”

“I’m right outside. If you feel weird, just call me.”

You did okay, though, washing up and turning the water off on your own, reaching for the towel you kept on a hook. He came in when he heard the water change, and helped you dry off, his hands firm and his gaze gentle. Then he led you back to your bed, guiding you under the blankets.

“Do you think you could eat some soup?” he asked. “I bet you didn’t eat all day.”

You scrunched your nose. “You don’t have to cook for me.”

He shrugged. “It’s pre-made. I’ll heat some up.”

You tried to eat as much of the soup as you could, and then floated absently as Vernon cleaned up.

“Hey,” you said, struggling to sit up. “I don’t think I fed the cat tonight.”

“Tell me what to do,” he said, pushing on your shoulder to keep you from climbing out of bed.

“You can’t just- he’s particular - there’s a process -”

“Tell me the process, then,” Vernon said firmly.

Later, after he’d turned out all the lights, he came to the side of the bed and checked your temperature again - this time with your actual thermometer.

“I’m waking you up in three hours to take another fever-reducer,” he warned you, walking to set the thermometer down on your dresser.

“Okay,” you said, too tired to argue. You were already half-asleep as it was - you had no idea what time it was.

You barely registered it when he climbed into the bed next to you, just rolled over and buried your face in his chest, one arm reaching around his middle, already back under.

His alarm startled you both. You felt him pull away - you were sleeping in the same position, neither of you had moved - and then the alarm fell quiet.

“Medicine,” he said, starting to extract himself. You whined; you were comfy, and warm, and didn’t want him to leave.

“Don’t,” you whined. “Don’t leave.”

He laughed a little, a quiet huff of amusement. “I’m just going to the kitchen. Then I’ll be back.”

He watched you take another round of pills and drink half the water, leaving the glass on your nightstand. Then, as promised, he got right back in bed.

When you woke again, your bed was empty. And, impossibly, you felt both relief and disappointment. Then, from the living room, you heard a clatter and then a curse.

“Vernon?” you called.

Your bedroom door cracked open. Like a flash of lightning, the cat streaked into the room and under the bed.

“Sorry,” Vernon said from the doorway. “He was pissed that I wouldn’t let him in there with you. I wanted you to sleep. He was mutinying.”

You smiled despite yourself. “You didn’t go home?”

“Wanted to see how you were before I left,” he said. “You sound better. You look better, too - I mean, you looked really off yesterday. It was kind of scary.”

“I think I’m okay,” you said. “Okay enough that I can keep my fever down by myself. I shouldn’t have let it get that high yesterday, I should have stayed on top of it.”

He looked at you for a long time. Then, he clapped his hand against your doorframe, as if he’d made a decision. “Okay. I’ll go home, I guess. Just… let me know if it gets bad, okay? And eat something. I bought stuff for you yesterday - it’s all in the kitchen.”

“Thanks for doing that,” you said, a little sheepishly.

“It was nothing,” he promised.

After he left, you stayed in the bed, rolling onto your side so you could smell the blankets where he’d slept. It helped you feel safer, like you weren’t actually alone.

It occurred to you that you’d spent the night together twice in a row, now. The rules were breaking - the rules were changing.

Your head pounded, and so did your heart. Nothing had ever been this frightening in your life, you thought.

2 months ago

Vernon saw you as sunshine - not like it was your demeanor, because that wasn’t true. More like - something he needed without realizing he needed it, something he realized he needed only in its absence. Something that made things better and brighter, something that could sometimes be too bright. Something that made the grey days feel greyer in a can you understand happiness if you never feel sadness kind of way.

He tipped your head back to kiss you, caught your bottom lip between his teeth, rolled his hips into yours, watched your hands clench into fists in his sheets.

He forgot himself a little; or maybe he just gave in to something he’d been holding back for months - maybe even a year. Something cracked, marrow slipped out of him, sluiced into the rocky ocean below.

After, he held you close, whispered, “Don’t go home. Stay. Jagi, stay here.”

And, he had to give you credit - you were at least honest. You at least told him your truth, in your own way.

“I can’t,” you said, and he knew you, knew how you meant it. He didn’t argue or call you back when you dressed, when you left again, just how you’d done things almost every time over the last two years.

He couldn’t do this anymore. He couldn’t want you, maybe even love you, and only have parts of you. It was too hard, it wasn’t fair. Two years, and he had nothing to show for it. Maybe he’d find someone, if he wasn’t spinning his wheels with you.

He saw you like sunshine. Something that was missed when it was gone. Something that couldn’t be forced to stay, something that didn’t come when it was called.

1 month ago

You could tell that something was different. You’d been around Vernon plenty when he was low - this was different.

“You’re being weird tonight,” you observed.

His eyes cut sideways at you. He’d never looked at you like that - this was another clue. Then his face went flat again.

“I’m not,” he said, and you frowned.

“You are,” you insisted. “What’s going on? What’s the problem?”

“There’s no problem,” he said, tone hollow.

“I’m not playing this game with you, Vernon!” you said, temper flaring. “If there’s a problem, you’re going to have to use your words and tell me.”

“I said there’s no problem,” he repeated, cool and even. Something inside you snapped tight, painful. You could feel it all coming to a boil right before your eyes - the way the boundaries had been shifting, the way he’d called you jagi, the way he’d looked when you’d walked away. It terrified you, made you want to show your claws, and it was infuriating that he was icing you out when you were ready to draw blood.

“Vernon!” you cried. “I cannot deal with this little apathy game anymore! I need you to engage here. I need you to care about something, and not just give me this expressionless, emotionless -”

“Care about something?” he thundered, wheeling on you. It startled you into silence. “That’s bullshit. Because I have been caring about you way more than I should, for ages now, and look what fucking good it’s done for me.”

Stunned, you blinked at him. Your heart pounded painfully, and your thoughts felt staticky and unclear. You needed to get away from him; you needed to process this in silence.

Finally, you spoke, your voice coming out tiny. “I’m going home.”

Vernon rolled his eyes, slapped his hand down to grab at his phone. “I’ll take you.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want you to.”

He ignored this, picking up his keys. “I said I’ll take you. It’s fine.”

You shouldn’t have followed him to the car. You shouldn’t have assumed he’d be mad for a few weeks and then get over it again, just like you two had done more than once now.

He drove you in silence, his face coming in fragmented pieces as he passed under streetlights. You were watching him, silently, when he finally spoke again.

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” he said, still perfectly even.

Tears sprang to your eyes before you’d even processed the sentence, something inside you reacting before your brain really knew what you were reacting to.

“What?” you asked. “Why?”

You knew why.

He just kept driving.

“Pull over,” you demanded, suddenly furious, suddenly terrified, suddenly realizing you were losing him, right now, in real time.

He ignored you, didn’t even glance over at you.

“Vernon, I want to talk about this, pull over!” you cried, leaning forward in your seat, the seat belt tightening on your shoulder. “Pull over!”

Eventually, he listened, flicking on his turn signal and slowing as the car bumped off the pavement and onto the dirt shoulder.

“What?” he asked flatly, finally turning to face you.

“I asked why,” you said, heat laced through your voice.

He shook his head. “I’ve wasted two years with you -”

“Wasted?” you echoed, feeling the word like a punch to the gut. You felt like you couldn’t inhale.

“Well?” he asked, as if to say, well, wasn’t it?

“Fuck you, Vernon,” you spat.

“Fuck me is right!” he yelled, loud in the enclosed space of the sedan. “What are we doing? Just fucking, for eternity?”

You blinked at him. “You never asked me for anything else!”

“I tried,” he growled.

“Like hell you tried!”

“I did,” he asserted. “You ran, scared, every time.”

“Of course I was scared,” you snapped, because you couldn’t deny that one for a second. Your voice comes out choked. “I was right to be scared, and you know it!”

“Why?” he asked, the question falling between you, a landmine.

“Because,” you said seriously, the first tear finally falling. “This only ends one way.”

His jaw clenched, and he looked away from you, out the windshield again. Then, he clicked on his turn signal again, shifted the car back into drive, and pulled back onto the highway.

“Yeah,” he said flatly, as the car met even pavement again. “You’re making sure of that, aren’t you?”

<- Prev | Next ->

thank you so much for reading! one chapter left to go!

[vyglitchcraft]

What about 141's reaction to the fact that the Reader suddenly finds himself alive after some of the missions?

It is very desirable to know the reaction of Roach my god I love him so much

Something romantic of course hehe

Of course! I hope i get this right, they assume the reader is dead after a mission and yeah, if i get this wrong feel free to request again

TF141 x masc!reader

Still Alive

Content: angst, romance, masculine pronouns for the reader.

Character: Gary Roach Sanderson, Kyle Gaz Garrick, Johnny Soap Mactavish, John Price, Simon Ghost Riley, Alex Keller

Roach

Oh poor boy...he swears to himself he saw your body dead on the ground. He left you there thinking it was too late to save you.

The days after the mission, everyone noticed how different Roach has become. That chill and cheerful kid now has become cold. There was even a resemblance to Ghost.

Sure he was a mute but he was explosive in temper.

He was never really friends with anyone, more like coworkers but after you died, everyone started to avoid him.

One day Sandman reported that he saw you, that you were actually alive. 141 quickly located you and rescued you, although unfortunately Roach wasn't there, he was still in the base.

You knocked on Roach's bedroom door. He heard your voice and immediately slamned the door open (he probably took it off its hinges)

Like a puppy, he threw himself at you.

He was stimming, clicking and biting his tongue. You two sat on the floor, Roach hugging you as tight as possible. He doesn't want to lose you again

"Miss me?"

"Yeah...just don't do that again..."

He cried on your shoulder and you couldn't help but cry as well.

It was good to be alive

Gaz

The mission was simple, just grab some files and get outta there but it ended up to be more complicated then you two expect.

A shot on the neck and radio cutting off was enough to convince everyone that you died.

What ended up happening was you being held captive for a while.

Without you, Gaz was a wreck.

The photo that you both took together at the amusement park, he couldn't stop looking at it. Heck all of your pictures, he simply starred blankly at them.

His attention was caught by his own mind. Replaying memories of you over and over again.

Almost catatonic.

And then you suddenly kicked the door into the base after you somehow escaped.

Gaz just stood there, too shocked to comprehend what even happened. His first instinct was to yell.

"WHAT WERE YOU THINKING?"

"I DON'T KNOW DON'T BLAME ME!"

He let out a big sigh and pulled you in for a hug, his hand on the back of your head and yours on his back.

You offered to take him on a date for compensation. He of course, agrees but he was adamant on paying for everything.

Soap

What happened to you was quite different than with the others.

An undercover mission that somehow ended with your kidnapping.

You weren't necessarily dead...but MIA and that does not help at all.

Soap grew obsessed with finding you. Every other work that he has are immediately ignored.

Although Ghost understands, he's a bit pissed about work stacking up because of him. After a few weeks with no sign of you, your status was changed to KIA

And then you popped up again

He tackled you to the ground and almost choked you in his hug.

He kissed you right in the middle of the room in front of everyone.

Letting this moment to linger, he told you everything that he did without you, how he felt, and how much he missed you

Should he blame you? Well you were kidnapped so no but he was still mad at you, it doesn't make sense and he knows it.

At the end of the day, you're back and that's all that matters

Price

He saw you die right in front of his own eyes.

Price was supposed to be watching over you through the coms but that was a horrible idea.

Shot in the chest multiple times, even your body cam picked it up.

Soon after that, connection went faulty, radio was busted, your phone was broken in half.

He yelled your name into the coms but it didn't reach you.

John grew obsessed with the video. He replayed it over and over and over again, catching every detail to see who your killer was.

His smoking problem got worse too, half a pack was gone in a day.

He questions himself, why couldn't he just move on? He's been in the military for almost 20 years, he has seen so many people die, why is this so difficult.

He drowned himself in work and caffeine, sleeping would cause nightmares, losing you again and again now in different but still horrible ways.

His aggression increased and even though he says he's fine, everyone can tell.

Now imagine his shock when he was sent to that same place again and saw you. Your chest bandaged up, apparently already killed your captor.

"Sargent? Is that you? I thought you were dead"

"I'm so so sorry captain, i really am but there-"

He cuts you off by placing a hand on your cheek, yup this is real and not caused by his sleep deprivation.

"Let's get out of here, you missed so many things"

Ghost

He was familiar with death, especially of loved ones.

You weren't special but it still hurts him.

Sure to everyone else, he seemed to be unaffected but after years and years of constant abuse and lost, he honestly just gotten used to hiding his emotions.

He kept saying to everyone to "move on, we can mourn later, we have a job to do" as if he isn't blaming himself for not saving you.

More silent, but not in the intimidating way but in a more sorrowful way. It felt uncomfortable being close to him.

He should've quit, imagine the shit he would avoid if you two just had a normal domestic life. He would go home and see you standing there waiting for him with a smile. He should've been more brave and just say it, ask if you love him back. He should've just proposed then and there.

Sandman suddenly reported back to him that you were somehow alive. The shock was very visible in his eyes.

You came running back to him, almost hugging him but you stopped yourself that is until Ghost did it instead. He almost broke down in tears.

He confessed to you with a simple "i love you" no one can hear it but you certainly did and you loved him back.

"I should punish you for causing this much trouble"

Alex

The way he copes is very similar to his father Price.

Excessive smoking, anger issues, and what people realise, he was in denial of your death.

He knows you're alive, he just knows it. If he can cheated death, he knows you can too.

Farah followed along in the search but after it happened over and over again, she started to get tired.

Not just because they found nothing of you but also she really wanted to hug Alex and make him realise that you're not with them anymore.

And when he finally come to terms with the fact, he was already spiraling down. Even Farah has thought about avoiding him from all of the excessive yelling.

He wants to disappear, just like you.

If he sees you again, he'll kill you for breaking him

And he did. You were found alive, not well, but alive.

He didn't kill you, he slapped you before grabbing your hand. This was all real. And then euphoria and relief sets in.

"I thought you were dead, we searched for you for months"

"Well doesn't that sound familiar, i didn't just pull this out of my ass"

"Guess i can't say shit...but you're stil in a lot of trouble"

You two laughed, it didn't matter that you were both in the middle of a battlefield. The world became a blur as he focused just on you.

Farah was happy, of course she way, you two were her best friends.

What turned from a lovers embrace now is three mates seeing eachother after a year

[stillaclownlol]

Oh nooooo somebody stole my Aidlyn/Ashden headcanons so now I have to write more ... ✨️

(SORRY IM SPAMMING THE TAG 😭😭😭)

Some of these are based on my dad because he has bpd and he really reminds me of Aiden.

-His sense of humor is so broken like. Probably makes "that's what she said" and "your mom" jokes. Ash thinks he is the unfunniest person alive 🤡 and she STILL laughs at him (but never when he's trying to be funny). I think he'd be on Vine a lot lmao. He would laugh at that video of the bread slice falling over no cap.

-Aiden Clark, Professional Doomscroller. Maybe an itty bitty bit addicted to social media cuz "omg easy dopamine hit" even if he doesn't post a lot. Would prolly be chronically on TikTok if he was a teen today 🤡 Ash WILL steal his phone and hide it so they can "do something productive" (which alternates between her trying to teach him basic life skills to him falling out of a tree because they went outside for five minutes)

-her parents also gave him a truly awful shovel talk. He came out of it, kneeled in front of her, and said if he broke her heart to kill him before her parents did 💖 Tyler and him bond about their "scary in laws", although he has a better relationship with Mike and Emma than Tyler does with Mary and James 🤡

-convinced her to go to prom because "free food" and managed to wrangle out a slow-dance from her. He already likes dancing, SHE likes dancing...he wants to dance together ^_^

-She really likes his normal smile, when he's not forcing it. He takes good care of his teeth, so he's got a real bright smile :)

-Aiden tried to teach her how to skateboard a few times. She can...stand on it without falling off and roll around, but no tricks lol. Ash still thinks it was just an excuse for him to grab her hands or waist while she was balancing.

-Some problems in the relationship: they are not very good at communicating how they feel, so there's a lot of misunderstandings between them unless the gang intervenes haha ":D Sometimes Ash feels very suffocated by him and she really dislikes his apathy towards himself, and Aiden sometimes feels like Ash doesn't care about him nearly as much as he cares about her.

-his depressive episodes alternate between "I'm just gonna lie here and hope I die" to "actively trying to self destruct", sometimes he might go on a binge (overdosing on his meds, and when he's older he might sometimes drink too much or go on really dangerous joy rides, he's an awful driver), they really freak Ash out :( Recovery is a very long road with no end destination. She's trying to get better at reassuring him and he's trying to...just get better.

-both of them suck at remembering their anniversary 🤡 Aiden is a littleeeee bit better

-They have a knife collection they share ❤️

-he has her as "love of my life 💖✨️😍" on his phone contacts and has a special ringtone for her and everything. Absolutely not embarrassed about it, Ash...definitely is 💀 (she has him as "Aiden")

-sends her really bad poetry he wrote for her because writing his feelings down by himself is easier than saying it in the moment. Ash keeps all of them in a shoebox in her closet.

-she's not really good with touching and stuff but she feels better touching him, like a good stim. Really likes holding his face (no eye contact). Also enjoys him holding her hand.

-Secretly a little insecure about how she looks. She has never really thought about it before because she never cared about it, but now, in a relationship, she's kinda self conscious about him perceiving (read: constantly staring) her. She's very short and thin (even with muscles from ballet and training) and feels like a "late bloomer." Aiden thinks she's the closest thing to physical perfection that exists and will tell her this constantly ^_^

-She actually likes how he smells (grâce à: his really expensive soap lmao) but she would die before telling him lol

-The first time she kissed him her brain kinda shut off and she just squished their faces together while puffing her cheeks up. He bust out laughing and completely murdered the mood 💀 They'll figure it out...eventually

[talon-dragonbeast]

nobody asked but i wanted to share my hoard bc im reorganising it and taking pictures helps my motivation

first heres the group of found objects. from left to right we have: a jar with two dust spirits from spirited away, two broken earrings, a zipper, three souvenir coins (two from italy and one from england), an interrogation symbol candle, a small button, an eiffel tower, a false chestnut (non-edible), a broken van pin, a bigger button, a dragonfly jewelry, an earth keychain, and four dice (blue, red and green)

rocks! i have more but i put them in a lil altar thingy :]

random animal figurines (left to right): monitor lizard (or possibly komodo dragon, idk), sheep, fruit-dinosaurs, flareon, turtle, dragon, monkey, pikachu and random marine dinosaur (i think its from the avatar movies)

broken technology (phone and tamagotchi) and a bonus stim strawberry

frogs! (lots)

and heres how it looks all together! i think it looks really cool :} reminder that your hoard is unique and no one but you can tell you how it should be!

[boosterwithad]

All the headcanons for my ships. I might update this sometimes.

Ships include: Soapghost, Alegraves, Pricegaz, and Körangi. BUT i might add Krüni (Krüger x Oni), we'll see.

SoapGhost

- Johnny can't cook. He tries, he tries so hard. He meticulously follows each instruction in the recipe, but it still comes out burnt or nasty. Simon, on the other hand, throws some shit in a pot, stirs it for a second and it tastes fucking amazing.

- Johnny can't cook, BUT he can clean. He's good at cleaning, like he kicks Simon out of the apartment, deep cleans it, and lets him back in to a fresh apartment clean as the day they first got it.

- Johnny can bake. And he loves baking. He used to bake on base whenever he was bored. It gave him something to do with his hands. Simon picked it up, but he mostly likes the decorating part. So, they opened up a small bakery near Johnny's hometown. Riley isn't allowed there, but it's alright because Johnny's sister and her kids love him.

- Sometimes they'll just sit together and do nothing. Johnny is drawing while Simon is flopped on his chest or playing with his hair. Just being in eachother's presence.

- They've got an old bomb dog. Riley. He's a good boy, can't see so well anymore, but he's happt to get loved on all day. He loves taking long walks through town with Simon.

- Simon runs cold, Johnny runs hot. Simon's favorite way to fuck with Johnny is to grab his pecs with his freezing cold hands and watch as Johnny squeals and smacks at him every time.

- Their petnames are weird. "L.t." for intance has become one. But Johnny will say more traditional ones just to make Simon flush. Simon isn't partial to cheesy nicknames, but occasionally a "honey" will slip out and Johnny will have to take a breather. Like, hand on counter fist over chest, sobbing and coughing type. He's a total simp.

- Most of the floors in their house are hardwood. Minus the kitchen and bathrooms. Simon hates carpet, he's seen how easily it get stained. John is indifferent, but he has to agree; Carpet never feels good on his feet.

- Johnny has absolutely NO filter. Whatever pops into his head is out his mouth before he knows it. Before they were dating, Johnny spat out a "Ye've got some bonnie chebs, Ghost" and had to use Simon's lack of scottish knowhow to bs his way out of that one.

- Simon is albino, he cannot go out into sunlight for too long. But Johnny really likes the beach. So obviously Johnny lugs a tent around for him.

- Simon hates needles, so Johnny helps him with his T shots.

- Simon struggles a lot with schizophrenic-like symptoms from his PTSD. Most of the time they're small auditory hallucinations, like someone calling his name, or the sound of gunfire. The more severe ones (which only really happen when he's off his meds) could be anything from fires to Joseph. He has a cocktail of drugs he takes just to keep them at bay.

- Johnny stims on everything. He cannot sit still, he'll either be bouncing from foot to foot or be antsy and restless. Simon has to kick him to make him stop every night because he just cannot relax.

It was such a bad issue that Johnny needed meds to feel normal. Sleeping pills and adhd meds. It made him feel really broken, until Simon started setting their pills out together. Simon is the strongest man Johnny knows, surely Johnny can't be broken if Simon takes meds, too.

- Johnny is 27, and Simon is 34.

- idk if I've ever explicitly said this but Simon has schizophrenia and complex-ptsd. The symptoms kinda mixed so he never really got diagnosed with schizophrenia until late in his career. It's rough, but he's pretty good at managing it. His best tactic is using his phone camera to determine wether or not he's hallucinating.

AleGraves

- Simon is lingeromantic caedsexual. It took him a very long time to trust Johnny completely. Johnny is pan, he wears his heart on his sleeve. His attractions are frequent but shallow, and Simon is the first he's found that he really got attached to.

- Johnny is obsessed with Simon's hair. Its fluffy and curly and he could run his hands through it all day.

- Alejandro is so gentle with Phillip. Normally, he's confident, and sure of himself. But he's never had a good thing in a while. Not since he and Rudy met. He's terrified he'll fuck it up.

- Phillip can't really cook in the way Alejandro is used to, but he does enjoy making Southern food for him. He also gets really upset when someone calls southern buscuits "Scones" because scones are made of sugar dammit.

- Alejandro loves to do Phillip's hair. He'll gently sit him in a tub and work soaps through his hair until Phillip is half asleep and his hair is clean.

- Their house is very cozy. It's got a stone fireplace and plenty of cushions and blankets. They even have a small library. The library may or may not be primarily made up of classified documents sandwiched with old history books.

- Both run cold. They cannot survive in weather below 65° F. They visited England once, to meet up with Price and Kyle, and regretted it.

- Once Alejandro got sent to Russia on a mission, Phillip never heard the end of it.

- Alejandro uses so many pet names. He only uses the cheesy Spanish ones. Like "Mi vida" and "Cariño" but his favorite is "Sombra". Phillip rarely uses any, but sometimes the southerner in him bares its ugly head and he lets a "honey" or "sugar" slip.

- Phillip is a big thrifter. It's a habit he never got over. He never hoards, but he might have a too-big collection of mugs

- Alejandro doesn't know Phillip speaks, or at least understands, Spanish. It's not that Phillip wants to keep the secret, but lazy nights when Alejandro is cooing spanish compliments at him in "secret" makes him keep it.

- Phillip religiously makes sweet tea. Every other day he refills a massive jug with it. Alejandro likes to pretend that he doesn't drink any, but he's shit at lying.

- Alejandro is the emotional one. He might not always be the best at handling them, but he's deffo not ashamed of them. Phil on the other hand was born in the conservative south to your typical toxically masculine family, he was ridiculed for showing emotions. Its embarrassing for him to show anything thats not anger, or to not be in control all the time.

- Alejandro has dermatillomania. He picks at his lips and whatever ingrown/double hairs he has on him, he rips the skin around his fingernails. It really frustrates him because he just can't stop. Phil has a knack for catching the behavior and redirecting his attention.

- Alejandro is obsessed with Phil's body. Not in a sexual way. But, he'll sit there with Phil in his lap just mapping him out with his hands with a massive grin on his face. His tummy, his muscles, his hips, Alejandro cannot get enough of him. He's just so damn pretty and Alejandro can't believe that Phil is his husband.

- Phil has the highest blood pressure man has ever seen. He is so stressed all the time, he looks about twice his age. Every night when he gets home, he'll shove his face into Alejandro's magical stress relieving titties and just cry.

- Phil is 38, Alejandro is 37

PriceGaz

- they've got a small, lithe cat. A grey-based calico named Magazine, they call her Maggie for short.

- Alejandro sends Phil pics of everything. Like if he was stationed in Germany, Phil would get pics of anything from a silly looking car to a mountain or sunset.

- They have a cat. He's old, and geriatric, and his name is Greg. They love him very much, but he only loves Simon.

- Kyle is a family man, and was so excited to show John his family. John's parents weren't in the picture. He grew up taking care of his three younger siblings. He was nervous to meet them, to tell them he didn't have a family like theirs. But Kyle's mother took one look at him, sat him down for tea, and they talked for a real long time.

- They probably live in a cabin on the seaside. It's small, probably only three rooms including the bathroom, but it's enough for them. They take turns cooking, or they do it together. Then, they take long walks down the beach to find shells.

- John is a space heater, and constantly wakes up with Kyle spread over his chest. Hell, even Greg has taken to suffocating him in his sleep.

- Neither of them regularly use petnames, but John certainly turns into a 50 year old southern woman whenever they're cooking. "Oh, sugar, don't burn yourself" and "Babe, be careful with that knife." Kyle thinks its charming.

- Kyle only wears clothes two sizes up. He hates tight fitting clothing, and he absolutely hates anything that shows any of his torso. It's his biggest insecurity. John knows, maybe Kyle's never told him, but he knows.

- Kyle loves smoker candles. Not because John smokes, but because it reminds him of his home. I'll let y'all unpack that one.

- They have two blankets on their bed because they steal from eachother. Kyle will take it, then John will take it back. Frustrates Kyle to no end.

- Kyle has a designated chair in John's office. It has his name on it (literally) and Kyle is always huffy when someone steals it.

- Kyle hates coffee. John hates tea. They complete eachother. Kyle does tease John about being a "shit brit"

- John's family is either dead, or too far away for him to know. IIt really doesn't bother him, since it all happened a long time ago, but he cant help but feeling a little miffed that he never knew his mom very well.

- Kyle's background is of them. None of his social media mentions their relationship, which makes him upset, but fraternization with your commanding officer is a big oopsie. His lockscreen is Greg, but his background is a collage of all of his favorite moments together. It rips him apart that he can't gush about his husband, you know, because its highly illegal.

Körangi

- John is 40, Kyle is 30.

- Kyle collects stupid instruments. Harmonica, spoons, singing bowl, kazoos. If they're small enough to fit in his pack, he grabs it.

- Kim's English is way better than König's. It was a suprise to them, since German is very close to English. Either way, Kim still makes fun of König (in jest, of course) for it.

- A lot of people expect Kim to be horrible with his money, but he's actually been clean from his addiction for a few years. He has a hefty sum in his accounts, and likes to let it sit and accumulate. König's is mostly empty, since he sends most of his money to his mother back in Austria. Kim is more than happy to pay for him too.

- König has to duck everywhere, and he never quite fits into bets right. When they got their first house, Kim said he'd take care of it. König didn't think much about it, until he got to the house for the first time. Every doorframe and ceiling was slightly taller. Tall enough that he didn't have to duck or crunch for space. Their bed was extra long and spacious, so he didn't have to crunch up or take up all the space.

- Kim is König's little hand warmer. He is small but he can heat a room in 5 minutes. König runs cold, like his hands will always be freezing. Its a real problem during the winter, but it's a perfect excuse for Kim to melt on König's chest when it too cold.

- Both use petnames. Never in English, König because he doesn't understand them, and Kim because he thinks they sound silly. König is a hopeless romantic, and probably would use something like "schatz", "suße" and "bienchen" while Kim would say "aein" only rarely.

- They've definitely learned enough of eachother's language to know what simple requests are. Kim will call across the house for König to do the dishes, and König will do them, then realize that not only was his request in Korean, but that he doesn't speak Korean.

- König has struggled with eating disorders his whole life. He was a twig in elementary school, and his mom fattened him up. But when he looked into the mirror after a few weeks, and saw a stomach, he nearly fainted. Kim didn't notice at first, König hides it really well. But after a while it's hard not to notice him refusing meals. He'll slip him something small, nothing scary.

- König can absolutely manhandle Kim and he uses it to his advantage. Kim can't reach something? Lift him up. Kim is angry? Pick him up. Kim is standing there all cute n' shit? Pick him up. Kim responds just like a cat, pout and all.

- Kim HATES fizzy drinks. They taste like static, and make his tummy hurt :( He'll wait for his sodas to go flat, ice them, then drink them. Like a psycho. König pretty much only drinks sparkling water and is mortified at Kim's soda habits.

- Kim's love language is touch. He likes to say he's not clingy, but König knows hes full of shit because he cannot sleep without him.

- König's is definitely gifts. He likes to give Kim rocks. He knows a lot about them, and they're really easy to come by. Other times he'll just give him random shit he picked up. A small peice of tarmac from Ukraine, a pebble from Nepal, a small bottle cap from Nicaragua. Kim has a whole collection of stuff from him and he refuses to give any of it up.

- Kim hates clothes. He'll just lounge around König's room in just his boxers or a pair of sweats. He likes being warm, not uncomfortably warm, but warm. König has an entire stash of Korean snacks for him since Kim hates western snacks (except for Blue Takis for some reason).

- Kim is 32, König is 33. Kim jokingly refers to him as a grandpa, to which König gently reminds him that, that would make him a grandma.

- König has THE thickest hair you will ever see in your life. It's curly but its super long so it's like a goddamn waterfall. Meanwhile Kim has really thin, and delicate hair. It's soft and silky.

- Kim does NOT do good in the dark. This man is terrified of being trapped in dark rooms. He clung to König like a baby every night until König realized what was wrong.

- they have a pikachu nightlight.

[stilljuststardust]

Tools for emotional regulation

This is specifically things I do for end of day decompression. I take an hour and I do different things off this list till I'm relaxed.

I understand that alot of these are "basic" but it's less about what you do and more so about taking time to care for yourself and ne present in your body in ways that feel safe.

I've broken this down in to categories of self soothing.

Environment

A calming environment is beneficial for obvious reasons so here's things I do to feel more safe in mine.

1. Turn off over head lights and uses LEDs, candles, or lamps instead

2. Noise cancelling headphones

3. Phone off

4. Christmas lights for some reason

5. Someplace to sit that isn't your bed (you can put pillows and blankets on the floor if need be)

6. I usually cleanse (witchy, may not be your thing)

7. Protection spells on your room specifically (witchy, may not be your thing)

8. Stuffies

Stimming

If you don't know what stimming is it's stimulating your senses as a form of self soothing. It's ok to move your body in "weird" ways, make odd sounds, or look for sensory experiences you find comforting. Nobody is watching, there's no one around to judge you release the feelings! I usually windmill my arms, rock back and forth, hum/sing, jump, etc. Anything you want.

It's actually really important to set aside time for stimming! You don't realize how important it is until you do it! It's scientifically proven to be harmful (particularly for autistic people) not to stim. It's really hard to unlearn suppressing it, so giving yourself a safe place to do so where you don't have to worry about what people think is important.

Sensory Seeking

Using tastes, textures, sounds, and visuals you like as a tool for self soothing is extremely powerful. This can look like so many things. I personally use perfume. I find certain scents incredibly calming and when I have them on I take deeper breaths because of them so it's a win win.

Other sensory examples:

1. use slime/clay

2. Touch fabrics you enjoy (like ultra soft blankets)

3. Listen to soothing sounds like music, rain, or ASMR

4. Drink a hot drink like tea or hot cocoa

5. Take a warm shower

6. Heating pads

7. Compression (weighted blankets/stuffies work great)

8. Stim boards

Clear mind

Sometimes you just need to get your feelings out. Having an outlet where you just express how you feel without worrying how it's perceived is important!

1. Journal (it's important to write like no one will read it cause they won't, unless someone will lol)

2. Sit outside or by a window

3. Write your doubts on toilet paper then fucking flush that shit to the sewers where it belongs.

4. Draw your feelings

5. Scribble non sensically

6. Scream into the void

Inner child time

It's time to kick internalized shame to the curb. What does your inner child want right now? If you were a kid again what would you do? It isn't wrong to do things you would've loved as a kid. It's important actually. What can you now do that you wish you could've done as a kid?

This one is incredibly individual cause I don't know what your inner child wants I'm just giving out ideas.

1. Play with slime, clay, kinetic sand, or play doh

2. Draw

3. Play with toys (have no shame)

4. Color

5. Legos

6. Read

7. Write a story

8. Make a "potion" (don't mix chemicals though)

9. Play with shaving cream I know you want to

10. Build a fort

11. Fluffy pajamas

12. Dance

13. Preform for stuffed animals

14. Barbie soap opera

15. Rewatch comfort shows

[cherrybombfangirlwrites]

OC Questionnaire Tag

tagged by: (a lot of people ages ago... haha oopsie) @kaylinalexanderbooks thank you!

tagging: Open Tag and very softly tagging @afoolandathief |  @thewritingsofevbrowne | @writing-sigh | @unhingednovelist | @the-mindless | @arctic-oceans | @rosebury-archives | @zmwrites |

Your OC's interview questions are: -Do have a favorite book (or alternatively, a favorite story to listen to)? -If you could change one aspect of your appearance, what would it be? -You have a perfect day all to yourself! Describe what that would look like.

My OC's questions:

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Do you trust your instincts?

I'm going to do this round with Kylee (from TCIO), Triveya (from FSF) Max (from FSF), and Nova (from GD). Two OCs I love and two OCs I want to flesh out more and get to know better, so hopefully this will be good! My OCs responses under the cut!

Kylee (The City is Ours WIP) *Kylee is non-speaking autistic and would answer all the questions with either sign language, or a text to speech app on her phone*

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

"I think my spinning fidget ring. It's great for stimming but sometimes I go too fast with my super speed powers and break it. I usually go through about three of these a week." She laughs sheepishly.

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Kylee gives a dry snort. "I'm autistic, it's hard to feel like I belong anywhere, I constantly feel like I'm an alien on my own planet. If you had to ask the place I feel most like I don't belong though, it's definitely school. If one more person tells me high school is the best years of my life I'm gonna break something."

Do you trust your instincts?

"Since these powers popped up, my instincts have given me a lot of near misses instead of getting killed, so yeah, I'd say I do."

Triveya (Fractured Stars Falling WIP)

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

She sighs and shrugs, laughing nervously, "Potion bottles. So many potion bottles. Not because they broke, I have a spell for that, and haven't broken any of my tea mugs or potion bottles in years. But I do keep losing track of them... I'm just so scatterbrained and lose track of stuff if I can't see it..."

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Triveya shrugs, speaking numbly, "I'm over a thousand years old, I've kept to myself for hundreds of years now... so yeah, I can feel a bit out of place... but even back in my own time when I looked my age... I've always felt different. Not just because I was such a gifted magic user and leagues ahead of my peers, I was even better than my teachers- I just- I don't know, there's something deeper in my core that feels like it doesn't belong in this world..."

Do you trust your instincts?

Triveya chews her lip, and looks around in confusion. "I honestly don't know what instincts mean anymore. A gut feeling? I have a lot of those all the time, always feeling a little sick to my stomach at the idea of failing, always feeling like I'm not good enough to keep up with how smart I'm supposed to be. Like my knowledge is here, but my common sense and motor functions are all the way over there. I've learned to ignore it at this point because it's always there."

Max (Fractured Stars Falling WIP)

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

"I don't remember, really. I've always been very neat and orderly, keep to myself. As far as I can remember I haven't had to replace anything yet." (Narrator voice: note the word 'yet', he will in fact soon have to replace something, because plot.)

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Max rolls his eyes a bit in annoyance and frustration. "I'm the son of a high councilman for a kingdom run by a group of high ranking nobles elected by the people. Sometimes I feel like the only person in court with any sense that actually cares about the problems happening in front of us instead of parties... uh, if that counts..."

Do you trust your instincts?

Max shuffles his feet nervously, looking around to see if anyone is watching. "My instincts to stay out of trouble and keep my head down and not start any drama or stick my nose where it doesn't belong? Yes, I trust those feelings."

Nova (Galaxy Destroyer WIP)

What's the last thing you replaced, and why did you have to replace it?

Nova sighs, processors whirring as she fiddles with the metal plates that make up her body. "I have to replace my parts all the time, and it's hard because parts from PIE cost a shiny credit that I don't have. Who has that kind of money in this galaxy? Not me, that's for sure, not since I got scrapped..."

Where's a place where you've felt that you didn't belong?

Nova rolls her eyes, shooting a look at her crewmates. "I'm a highly sophisticated high intelligence android, in a galaxy filled with flesh idiots. Of course I feel out of place, I'm the only one with any sense around here!"

Do you trust your instincts?

She squints for a second, trying to figure out what the question means. "You mean my programming for self preservation? Yes... obviously I do, I'm a sophisticated and well made and programmed android, of course I trust my programming and processors."

FSF Taglist: @rose-bookblood @chalcid @evethenovicewriter @writing-is-a-martial-art @mjjune @fiercely-raging-writer @wildswrites @corishadowfang @surroundedbypearls @serenanymph (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

TCIO Taglist: @friendlyneighborhood-writer @jessica-writes22 @rose-bookblood @yejidoesthings @space-writes @cljordan-imperium (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

GD Taglist: @fiercely-raging-writer @aesa @thatprolificauthor @writeouswriter @rose-bookblood (send me a message to be +/- from the taglist <3)

[goofygooberblog]

Mouthpiece TTCC Headcannons‼️‼️‼️

Staring off strong I think she can fight, if someone were to start a genuine fight with one of her grandkids (or even her coworkers she sees as her grandkids) she would be fighting in second. She can pack a punch and she’s not afraid to put some force behind it either. (She’s been written up because of this). [more under cut]

Belle, her house is full of trinkets, stuff she’s knitted, things her kids/grandkids have got her, her house also always smells like cookies. Even if there are no cookies in sight her house is warm and smells delightful.(This causes like an army of bugs because it’s warm and smells nice.) However if you were to spend the night you couldn’t work the shower because it’s too confusing and has a 50 step tutorial to get it working.

She indulges in sweets sometimes (a lot) so she is constantly giving them away so she doesn’t eat them all. (She has a really big sweet tooth.) Belle even makes toon friendly sweets because arguably toons have such sweet food and candy she loves it. Give her jellybeans and she’s celebrating.

Breaks things so often, like I’m talking about if she holds it, it’s broken. She refuses to hold things for anyone because of this.

Wins at every board game possible, if she plays you’ve already lost because of this she’s banned from company board game night after she beat the Chairman over a game of monopoly.

Belle loooves hallmark movies, if there’s one she’s seen it. She knows the name of everything, character, town, even the names of the rich ceo. She can recite the movies word for word, she can even make the same expressions and she can sound exactly like the actors to the point it’s crazy. People have asked her if she had ADHD but Belle gets confused and just says she really likes the movies. She’s met each actor, writer,crew person,director, and even the animals they use during the movie. She runs the fandom wiki and it’s so detailed and only she runs it. People have been doxed if they try and mess it up.

Because Belle is old people have just assumed she didn’t know what the LGBT community was [Skull emoji] and so she wasn’t invited to pride, so when she showed up Misty wanted to know if she supported. Let’s just say that people know she’s a Bi icon and trans fem.

Following up on that everyone in her family is trans, when Belle was little she got a spell cursed that every family member after her would have the same issue as her (The issue was being assigned a different gender at birth.) and now everyone is trans. (The the wizard who cursed her was Witch Hunter. Suits also have only two things change with sex, your Build how feminine it Masculine it is, and your voice but you can always mix it up so gender and sex are very loose words to suits.

She is afraid of dying, okay real depressing right? So the reason she flies away after you beat her is because Belle is terrified, She has this idea that if she were to explode they couldn’t fix her because her parts are so old. (This fear is totally irrational and she goes to therapy for it.)

I think Belle is a professional yapper. If you put her Benjamin and Flint in a room together they could probably talk for 3 weeks straight. I also think she’s sassy, everything she says does have a purpose and she’s constantly thinking on the correct things to say. One time she ended up reciting an entire Hallmark movie because Benjamin and Flint let her.

She vocal stims, if a phone can make that noise so can she. She’s actually the reason phones ring because she just kept saying “ring ring ring.” When she called people.

Belle loves sappy music if it’s romantic she knows it, she knows the dance to it. Also she’s definitely the queen of telling you she’s met your favorite band in their prime.

She kills it on piano, she can play Rush E at the highest possible tempo ever and she knows every single song without using sheet music, when Belle was younger she always won piano competitions because she was just that good. So when you use a piano drop on her she will target you for trying to break her with her favorite instrument.

Everyone knows Cassie is Belles favorite grandchild and nobody can disagree because Cassie is an angel.

Belle a lady of color, she’s mixed Egyptian and Italian and she loves her cultural foods and she loves her food spicy and flavorful.

———

Belle actually got Flint and Graham together after hinting it. She’s actually the reason most workplace relationships work out, she plays Cupid and valentoons day is her favorite holiday because of this.

I think Misty is still growing, (Despite her being in her early twenties.) but Belle will squeeze her cheeks and tell Misty how how big they’re growing and definitely give her twenty cog bucks as a gift.

She has an advanced vocabulary and she taught Brian words he knows. He often challenges Belle to puzzles and sudoku to better learn words.

Belle and Cosmo are both Italian just Belle is an third generation from an immigrant family and Cosmo is the First generation. Cosmo teaches Belle Italian and they can communicate in it, Cosmo has only come out to the satellite investors and Belle about how he’s Trans masc. Also Belle now tells Cosmo the Hallmark movie scrips in Italian.

Belle was worried about Cathal and Tawney because no suit should be sleeping that much so she genuinely asked if they were depressed, turns out they take their shifts during the night so it appears they are always sleeping. She felt really embarrassed so Belle baked them apology cookies and Tawney and Cathal stick to her like glue. Belle often gives them both super soft blankets she knitted herself so they can sleep comfortably and she is the one who packs Cathal his sandwiches (She has no idea why me needs so many.)

Belle loves giving Buck duck trinkets from the flea market, and Buck reminds her of her grandson with ADHD and so she often is able to keep Buck from overstimulating everyone around him. (Cosmo greatly thanks her for this.)

Belle is a mother figure to Spruce and Chip, she genuinely thinks they are blood related brothers and often treats them like such. They don’t have the heart to say they are just close friends since childhood so they play along. Belle was the first person Chip told about the override and she sticks by his side hugging him and keeping him grounded. (The override never activates when he’s around her because of this.) Belle is very concerned for Spruces help because she only sees him eating trees. She made tree shaped cookies so he would eat them and makes special accommodations to his food so they are all trees.

Belle refuses to leave Flint alone after he somehow exploded her oven and burnt the charcoal-chunk cookies. She watches them like a hawk and is genuinely considering giving Flint a wellness check to see if he has Pyromania. (They do.) She also makes special burnt cookies just for him so They can enjoy.

Belle makes time to see each and every one of Dave’s concerts, (she even convinced him to make a Hallmark play and everyone loved it.) She is his (second) biggest fan right next to Buck. And she always buys Dave flowers and he keeps them in a little vase in his dress room.

Belle and Graham have very different ideas of music but they do have an entire album together of a wonderful blend of Rock and Old-Times music and they even won 6 Grammy awards for the album and they won best songwriters of the year. (Flint is also on the album because them and Graham are inseparable.)

Her head can call people like a telephone so she uses it when she needs to call. And only call she can’t text because it hurts her head (It also burns into her brain.) Unfortunately she can’t whisper so she only has the most important calls in her home. Buck often spam calls her because he’s already told Brian something twenty times. (Belle is very close to blocking him)

If all the managers where put in a room Belle would be able to get everyone working together and having a fun time, she’d make everyone comfortable and that’s why parties at her house during the holidays for this group of managers (And the Satellite Investors.) is exciting and wonderful and everyone often looks forward to the holidays because of this. (Expect when it’s Hallmark movie time and Belle gets to exited over these movies and keeps quoting the most outlandish things ever.) Belle would take the managers on vacations too and separate them into groups to make sure everyone can handle eachother and no fights break out. She also makes sure she only picks trips everyone can enjoy and so far she hasn’t had any complaints (yet.)

I don’t think she swears a lot but when she does. The first time she genuinely got mad was when someone had broke something her deceased mother made her. Let’s just say everyone was shocked but realized it’s better she doesn’t keep her emotions inside all the time. Belle will cuss when she’s singing or just when she’s in extreme shock or anger. She however won’t curse in-front of a kid because she’s a parental figure.(she will freak out if she slips up and the kid won’t stop repeating the word.)

[greghatecrimes]

more neurodivergent headcanons:

adhd kutner

cannot ever be completely still and thus is always fidgeting with something in his hands (see: stethoscope in canon, but also: pens, stress balls, hair ties, rubber bands, expo marker, anything he can find in the outer office while they’re doing a ddx)

bad habit of interrupting people to finish their sentences for them or to say what he needs to say before he forgets it. if you’re talking to him, his brain is already three steps ahead of whatever you’re saying. he tries really hard to not interrupt during ddxes and when talking to patients and sometimes it takes a lot of energy

can’t use those squishy stress balls because he fidgets so much that it’ll break open in less than an hour. has definitely accidentally broken one while working in the diagnostics outer office and gotten the water inside all over paperwork foreman was doing (and house thought it was hilarious)

i bet adhd medication was his savior in med school. needed it to help him function in classes/be able to pay proper attention

inevitably doodles (without realizing it) on any paperwork he’s given to sign or fill out

uses his foot to tap out the rhythms of songs stuck in his head when he’s working in the lab. sometimes does a lil dancey dance when he gets really into it

prefers red bull or monster over coffee unless the coffee is ridiculously sweetened

constantly losing his phone in the funniest places (the office fridge; leaves it on a patient’s bedside table; forgets it in the MRI room, etc.)

loves to stim by making goofy/funny faces

His apartment abides by the rules of “organized chaos” thanks to The Pile Method. Definitely has an ADHD doom drawer he hasn’t opened in like three years

Loves socks. Always wearing socks with a cool or funny pattern on them and usually never wearing a matching set.

neurodivergent/autistic thirteen

keeps her hair tied back, or curls it and uses a ton of hairspray, to avoid touching it. (she runs her fingers through her hair or twirls it as stimming and grounding when she’s anxious, and she wants to hide that she does that when she’s around other people)

became an absolute master at sarcasm and banter in high school (to always have the upper hand in conversation)

is constantly analyzing the conversation, tone of voice, expressions, and mannerisms of her coworkers and others around her, and tracking the patterns she notices. she’s so used to it that it’s an automatic/instinctive process for her by the time she gets a job as one of house’s fellows

in college, purposely sought out alcohol and weed on her own time in order to build up her tolerance and get used to the feeling. that way when she gets drunk or high around other people, she can be reasonably intoxicated and fit in with the group while also still being in control and staying cool and detached.

knows kutner is adhd, and keeps a spare hairtie on her that she can “accidentally leave on the table” when kutner needs something to fidget with

Prefers the sensory feel of tighter clothes on her lower body and looser clothes on her upper body. Only likes tight clothes on her upper body if the fabric is thin, it’s short sleeved, and it’s not restrictive to her movement

Gets headaches/sore scalp when she wears her hair up too much. keeps it in looser ponytails at work to lessen the pull, and uses scrunchies to put her hair up at home.

Loathes socks. She wears only the lowest cut no-show socks, the kind that are even invisible with sneakers like converse or vans. rips off said socks the moment she steps into her apartment after work.

Prefers to be organized and makes sure everything has a set place for the sake of convenience. Doesn’t always have the energy or motivation to put things back in their set place (probably because masking is exhausting)