#but I could not possibly give less of a shit

[softness-and-shattering]

Almost like a chronic issue, of something that sounds lile fatigue, couldnt possibly be chronic fatigue, right?

❤

Theres no such thing as 'real' and 'fake' disabled people, theres no test to pass. Sometimes it takes a lot of tests and time and just finding a dr who will listen to get things close to diagnosed. Youre not faking until someone gives you the stamp of approval, only you truly know what youre experiencing, you are the arbiter of your own truth.

If you have a condition or conditions, named or not, diagnosed or not, understood or not, that negatively impacts your life, then you can call yourself disabled. Welcome to the community. Whatever disability resources you can find and access are for you, use them, dont be shy about it. Try not to let community members gatekeep you. Gov and orgs etc usually will, which sucks, thays their problem, doesnt make you a faker, doesnt make you less needful or less deserving, it just makes them gatekeepers.

Theres always some amount of internalised ableism to work through, other peoples voices telling you to stop being lazy etc. And its super scary sometimes to realise 'oh shit im disabled'. Sometimes its also super freeing; theres a real reason youre struggling even if you dont know the specifics yet; and once youve accepted that you can adjust your standards, you can justify doing less, paying/asking others to do more, taking advantage of shortcuts, half- or quarter-assing things. Youre disabled. There is plenty of good life worth living. Theres also hardship but you know that already. Let yourself be.

With chronic fatigue especially, you wanna take it really easy, work out how much you can do and do not push yourself, stay well clear of your limits and I mean well clear. You might want to be seeing an exercise physiologist, maybe an OT, go from there. Thr other name for chronic fatigue is ME, or Myalgic Encephalomyalitis, if Ive spelled that correctly. Also id suggest a blood test for your vitamin levels and um thyroid functiom, and maybe some kind of sleep study? Multiple things can cause fatigue so best to try cover your bases. Possibly also allergens?

Tldr: if you want to call.yourself disabled you 100% have the right to. Its a community label not a diagnosis, a lot more people could claim it than do. If you want in, youre in. There is knowledge and resources that can help. Your experience is real. You are not alone. ❤

Well obviously I can’t have chronic fatigue, that’s a real problem for real disabled people that’s diagnosed by doctors probably. Clearly I just have some sort of perpetual exhaustion issue, that is also almost certainly my fault somehow

[thecreelhouse]

stuck

Paring: Steve Harrington x Fem!reader

Summary: Yes, it’s exactly what you think it is. MDNI

WC: 4.6k+

Includes: no plot all filth, unrealistic “stuck” porn trope, friends to horny idiots, dirty talk, pet names/name calling, unprotected PiV sex, oral (f receiving), briefest mention of monsterfucking, brief anal play, a smidge of humiliation kink with a healthy side of a praise kink, d/s dynamic, etc.

A/N: Literally got this idea from a certain filthy piece of DBD fanart that I can’t find, but if you know the one I’m talking about, please lmk so I can properly credit for the inspo!! Is this ridiculous? Yes. Was this originally for Halloween? Also yes. We hate rules here (and deadlines). Hope y’all enjoy it <3 (dividers from @/saradika-graphics)

Everyone told Steve he was insane to venture back into the Upside Down, but he couldn’t leave you there alone. 

He felt sick for even leaving you behind at all. Quite honestly, no one felt good about evacuating without you, but it was smarter to go home, gear up, grab another working walkie, before wandering back into hell to find you.

See, among the chaos of trying to help Eddie, trying to keep Max alive, he worried about you and your unusual absence from the group, but you were strong enough to handle nearly anything— that much, he was confident on. You had fought side by side with him over the years, protecting everyone in the group, and one another; through demodogs, a shit summer job gone awry, and anything in between, you could hold your own with a bravery he wished he didn’t need to front at times.

That didn’t quell his anxiety one bit, though. When and where you had disappeared to, he wasn’t sure.

It wasn’t until your voice broke through over the airwaves, when Steve, Eddie, Nancy, and Robin were on the lake, that he felt relief you were at least alive. Your voice was tinny through the static.

“Guys?”

The only reason a signal existed at all was because the group floated just above the gate at the bottom of the lake— they just didn’t know it yet.

Steve had just thrown his sweater off, ready to dive in, when the sound of your voice made his eyes widen. 

“Holy shit, give me the—“ He rocked the tiny boat a little too much for anyone’s comfort as he fell to his knees, grabbing the walkie from the floor. “Where the fuck are you?!”

“Hi to you too, Harrington.”

Robin yanked the device from Steve’s grip, “Are you okay? What’s going on?”

“Long fuckin’ story, but—“ Your voice cut out, static filling the dead air for a few seconds. “And that’s—“ Cut off again. “Upside Down, but I- I don’t know where I am, exactly. Why didn’t any of y’all tell me how bad this place sucks?”

Steve laughed to himself, unaware his eyes became glassy, hearing the familiar attitude and sailor’s mouth you carried; the other three noticed just how relieved and emotional he was right away. He grabbed the walkie back from Robin with shaky hands.

“We’re gonna come find you, we think we found a gate,” He rushed out. “Are you safe at least?”

“For now, but these—“ Signal cutting out, Steve hit the walkie a few times, as if that’d fix the disconnect between literal dimensions. “— Th- they’re everywhere. I don’t know where to hi— oh, shit—“ Your end fell dead again, leaving the four on edge, waiting for you to speak. White noise droned on for less than a minute; you weren’t coming back. 

Wasting not a second longer, Steve dove into the dark, chilled waters of the lake. He found the gate they suspected of, and broke the surface to alert his friends. As he relayed the information, rushed and panicked, wanting to find you as soon as possible, something tugged on his leg. Only startling the group at first, Steve was caught off guard, pulled under, back down to the bottom. He kicked, struggled, lungs burning as he fought off the urge to gasp for a breath he couldn’t dare to take.

It was all a blur, being dragged through the gate and tossed around like a rag doll; the bats diving towards him, finding an oar to defend himself with among the Upside Down’s mirrored decay of the lake, only to be bombarded by the gnarly creatures. They tore at his flesh as he was being strangled to death; brain growing fuzzy as he put up a good fight, he began to accept this fate. He wasn’t sure when his friends came through the gate, but one by one they retaliated against the bats, leaving just the one still strangling Steve.

“Get fucked!”

Unexpectedly, you appeared, slamming an ax— one you always left in your trunk, just in case— down onto one of its wings, chopping through completely, yet it still tried to flee as Steve bit down on its tail. Stunned, you all watched as Steve swung it around, slamming it down into the ground before violently ripping its spine out, fueled by pure rage.

Blood dripped from his mouth while he glanced up at you, rage and fear fading as relief flooded every inch of his heart. Despite your ragged appearance— covered in grime, soot, and blood— he was just happy to see you alive; a sight for sore eyes.

“I fuckin’ hate those things.” You wanted to run and hug him, but restrained yourself at the sight of his wounds. Taking in the sight of all four friends, you sighed, “Y’all okay?”

Another screech in the sky tore everyone’s attention away, “C’mon!” Where everyone ran off to the rocks, you made the mistake of running off in the opposite direction. The group of bats split off, heading towards both you and the others; when you looked over your shoulder, you watched Steve do the same, panic fueling you both to run for your lives.

You sprinted off towards the woods, hoping you’d find each other again soon, and alive.

Steve climbed back through the gate in Eddie’s trailer, and had searched for what felt like hours; he was losing hope of finding you by the minute. He knows you; you wouldn’t give up without a fight. You had to be alive, but dread was still building within him.

At least he caught a signal over the walkies.

“What do you mean you’re stuck?”

Your voice warbles through the speaker of Steve’s walkie, barely coherent through the sharp static. 

“Okay, okay, where are you?”

“The— g—“ Feedback rips through your words, shrill and sharp. “I’m tr—“

“You’re cutting out—“

“Gate! I’m—“ A drone of white noise floods the speaker, and you’re gone.

“Shit. Fuck. God-fucking-dammit!” He hits the device with his free hand, slams the buttons and messes with the knobs and antenna— if only he actually paid attention when Dustin tried showing him how to work this fucking thing.

He did hear you say ‘gate’ at least, but which one? You clearly weren’t at the one he just entered, and the one at the lake had closed up by now. 

This would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

Steve’s exhausted, searching high and low for you, at every possible spot that crosses his mind. It had to have been another hour since he last heard from you, and he’s running out of ideas of where you could be.

“Checked around town,” He begins murmuring to himself, listing and eliminating options out loud. “No luck there… but— shit, didn’t check the library…” Could a gate even open in there? Anywhere was possible, right? And if that was the case, he’d have to tear through every room of every building, circle each structure, check any cars, houses, sheds, backyards, parks, the woods—

Christ, at this rate, he’ll never find you—

“Oof!” Steve loses his footing, tumbling over something in the stretch of woods he was combing through. Colliding with the ground, he groans on impact.

“What the fuck?”

Steve rolls over quickly, sitting up to find he had tripped over you.

“Oh, thank fuck.” He scrambles to his feet, brushing debris off his body as he finally glances your way.

When you said you were stuck, Steve didn’t picture the sight before him now; you, halfway through a gate found in a tree trunk, unable to move because it began to close up around your waist. Your upper half is on the other side, but your bottom half is still stuck in the Upside Down.

“Oh…. You’re… wow, okay.” He snickers, “Yeah. You’re stuck, alright.”

Steve’s muffled cackling echoes through the slimy gate. You huff and roll your eyes; not like he can see.

“Just help me out of here, would ya’?!”

“Okay, okay… Jesus.” He drops to his knees, still towering over you— well, your back half, at least. “Does it hurt?”

“No, it’s just fucking annoying. Maybe try, I dunno, pulling at the edges of it, or something?”

“I don’t think that’s how these things work—“

“Steve!”

“Okay, right, yeah, sorry.” He bites his bottom lip, stifling more laughter. It’s certainly an… awkward position, leaning over you from behind, but it’s the only way he can pull at the edges with both hands at once. He gives the gate’s edge a tug, but it’s stone solid. He tries again, this time with a grunt that has your mind wandering elsewhere. “Yeah, this is, uh… that’s not gonna work.”

“Oh my god, I’m stuck here forever,” You groan, kicking your feet. “I’m gonna die here.”

“Calm down, drama queen. Gimme a second, I’ll try again.” Steve keeps himself balanced on one knee, while the other leg plants a steady foot into the ground. Again, he attempts to pry open the gate, hoping to free you; his foot slips, causing him to rub against your backside.

Okay, ‘rub’ is a generous term— more like roughly falling against your ass, then whining over the pressure on his bulge.

“Steve, what the fuck?” You crane your neck, only able to see where the tree bark opens up into the gate, snug around your waist. “Did you just—“

“I didn’t mean to, I swear! M- my foot slipped!”

“Oh, bullshit.”

“Look, it’s not exactly the easiest to move around you without touching you right now,” He argues. “You really think I’m trying to make a move on you in a situation like this?!”

“Well, I can’t see shit, Harrington. I don’t know what the hell’s going on back there.”

Ignoring you, Steve murmurs, more to himself but loud enough for you to still hear, “The hell are you wearing these tiny shorts for, anyway?” He tugs at the hem around your thigh, elastic snapping back against your skin. You bite back whatever pathetic noise threatens to escape your lips.

“It was warm out earlier!”

“It’s March—“

“And unreasonably warm for March, y- you jerk.”

“That why you’re shivering?”

“Considering the sun set, uh, yeah?”

You grumble, annoyed how wet this easily has made you. You need out, and Steve needs out, too, and the two of you need to just forget about all of this.

“Okay, just—“ You can’t think straight, mind clouded with dirty thoughts— how embarrassing. “Push me through.”

“You… want me to push you… how?”

“With your hands, St—“

“I know with my h— I meant, like, where?”

You can’t see the way he licks his lips, staring at your ass, but you sure can hear the strangled moan he miserably tries to hide in his throat. 

“Wherever works— I don’t know, I’ve never been stuck between dimensions before!”

He shudders a breath before calling through the gate, “I’m gonna— if I touch anything I shouldn’t, I swear to god I’m not trying to—“

“Okay, yeah, I get it, Steve— just push me out of here!”

“Christ, you’re fucking bossy…”

His hands grip the plush of your hips, first, hoping he can grip hard enough and push this way— it’s useless; his hands lose grip, sliding up your body. His knuckles run into the tree, and he’s grateful for that barrier; who knows how far his hands could’ve slipped. He yelps and recoils away. “Sorry!”

“Dude, I don’t care, just do whatever works.” You sound exhausted, and who wouldn’t be in a situation like this? You had to have been here at least an hour, and even if it doesn’t hurt, it can’t be very comfortable. 

Steve shakes his nerves off, hands reaching for the back of your thighs; his fingers splay apart, pushing as hard as he can, and you finally begin to budge. It’s not much, but it’s a start.

Until you cry out for him to stop. “Shit, that fuckin’ hurts— It’s— ow, fuck! My hips—”

He immediately backs off, hands releasing pressure, but still resting gently on your thighs. It’s automatic, the way his thumbs rub slow circles into your exposed skin to try comforting you; the shorts you’re wearing are not helping either of you. It was warm out earlier, like you said, but did you have to wear these now?

Goosebumps prickle up under his fingers, and it’s hard to miss the way you clench your thighs together. 

“You, uh…” Steve gulps, fingers gently kneading at the meat of your thighs. “You okay over there?”

“Uh-huh,” Your answer isn’t very convincing, with a trembling voice. “Everything okay back there? W- with you, I mean.”

“Sure, yeah, it’s… I’m good.” He feels like such a pervert, fantasizing about taking you right here, like this. It’s wrong when you’re trapped like this. “Honey, I- I don’t know what else to do.”

The pet name twists at a coil deep within you, building up a pressure of some kind. 

“This is gonna sound fucked up, but just— push my ass— Steve, that better not be you laughing!”

He can’t hold back his immature giggling, but he’d rather this than moan.

“You sure? I don’t want you to get mad or anything.” He tries to settle down, focus on getting you unstuck. “Tell me to stop if it hurts again, alright?”

You imagine hearing those words of sweet consent in a different circumstance, biting back a whimper. “Ye- yeah, I will.”

Steve slides his hands up to the curve of your ass, unable to restrain himself before digging his fingers into your soft, plushy body. “Gonna count down, sweetheart, okay?”

This time a whimper does beat you to the punch before you can actually reply. He squeezes a little harder.

“Three… two… one—“ Steve shoves his hands against you, pushing as hard as he can. Again, your hips shove up against the tree trunk, and you cry out from the pinch. He pulls you back an inch, wincing with guilt. “M’sorry, I—“

“Again,” You boldly call back to him.

“… You sure?”

“Just do it, please,” His hands are so warm, touch so soft; you wish the fabric of your shorts would just disappear. There’s an extra whine to your voice, “Don’t hold back, I can take it.”

“Oh, fuck…” He mumbles, sucking in a sharp breath. “Go— I’m gonna try again, ready?” He hears a faint noise of consent, shoving himself into you; this time, his hips rut into you, too. You still can’t get through the gate, but you’re not sure that’s either of your concern at this moment. His bulge, rock-hard now, brushes up against your ass, and you both moan out. This is bad.

The way you push back against him isn’t helping much, either.

Both of you still, falling silent while trying to steady your breaths. Are you really about to do this here? Now?

Steve makes the decision for you both, muttering, “I can’t fuckin’ take it anymore.” He’s purposefully grinding against you, head lolling back with a groan as you push into him in return. From either end, both of you are shuddering out sinful noises. “Always wanted to kiss you first, but—“

“As soon as you rescue me, y’can kiss me all ya’ want.”

“Shit, princess, never took you for the damsel in distress type.” He tugs your shorts down, choking on air when he discovers you’re completely nude underneath. “Jesus, did you think at all about your outfit today?”

“Uh, considering I don’t have a bra on… no.”

“You don’t have a—“ Steve comically pouts that part of you is through the other side of the gate; he’s grateful you can’t see the pathetic expression. “What, did you just roll outta bed and stroll down here?”

“Steve, the longer we talk about the logistics of my outfit, the dryer I’m becoming.”

“Good thing I can help with that.”

“Okay, that was goofy to s— oh…” His thumbs spread your folds apart; despite your failed quip, you’re soaked as sin. 

“So fuckin’ pretty…” He leans down, kissing the swell of your ass, trailing his lips down your backside until he’s level with your heat. There’s no warning, just his tongue gliding along your folds, lapping up your arousal. A feral sounding groan vibrates through your core as he loses himself tasting you. It’s not rushed— not on purpose, at least— but any restraint is long gone now.

“Oh m’god,” You shudder while his tongue swirls around your clit, sucking it softly. His arms wrap around your thighs from behind, hooking you in place. You twitch back, like you’re desperate to grind on his face, but worried to freak him out.

Steve’s far from freaked out; in fact, he’s delving his tongue deeper, nearly incoherent when he mirrors your earlier words, “Don’t hold back. I can take it.”

That’s all the permission you need, rolling your body back as far as the gate allows, trembling as he sloppily makes out with your cunt. If only you could see the glistening mess on his pretty features. “Steve…”

He angles his nose against your clit just right, making you squeal into the empty forest around you. His tongue laps away, eventually tapering to fuck into you with it.

“Fuck, more, ple- please,” You pant, grateful Steve’s holding you upright, or you’d go limp against the tree. “Please— god!”

He slides a finger into you, curling it just right as he kisses and sucks back to your clit. He’s rougher this time when he suckles on the sensitive bud, rolling your eyes back and tensing your body up. You chant his name in whimpers, like a desperate prayer, only urging him to finger fuck you harder.

“Jesus, sweetheart, you’re gripping me so hard.” He groans into you, adding another finger. “Taste so good, I could be here all night—“

An orgasm startles you, going 0 to 100 without warning; lewd noises floating back through the gate toward Steve only challenge him to keep going.

“S- Steve, ha- hang on—“

“You want me to stop?” He slows his pace, but you ram yourself back into his hand and lips.

“No! Please, god, no—“

“Then what is it?” His tongue flits out, teasing around your sensitive nub.

“M- move your fingers up, back where you had it— ohhhmyfuckinggod—“

“C’mon, come for me, y’can do it again,” he coaxes, spitting onto your folds while relentlessly ruining you with his thick, long fingers. Your legs tremble wildly. “I can tell you’re close, angel. Make a mess, come for me again—“

This time, you cry out, praying whatever woods you found yourself in was deep enough, away from the public. Your hips twitch and convulse, while you flutter around his digits, soaking his face while he continues to delve deeper, as if that’s even possible.

The pumping pace of his fingers never relents, despite how overstimulated you feel already.

“St- Steve…”

“Got one more in ya’?” You feel his hot breath fanning over your folds again. It’s not long before he’s flicking his tongue back out, teasing your clit while adding another finger. “Christ… yeah… yeah, angel, that’s it…” He laps at the nectar dribbling from your centre, grunting as his free hand pulls you by your thigh, guiding you to bounce against his face. The fingers buried in you curl just right, earning a broken, breathy noise from the other side; he hits the right spot, and under a minute in, you’re gushing against his pretty face.

You can hear how drenched he is when he speaks, licking his lips between his words, “That was… oh, fuck, that… that was so… can we do that every day?”

Winded, you manage to laugh weakly, “If you can figure out how to get me un-stuck, I’ll let you do that as much as you fuckin’ want.”

You’d kill to see his face right now, dripping with your release, but until then you’ll just need to use your imagination.

“…. Can we—“

“Please.”

The head of his cock slides along your folds, teasing as it runs over your sensitive clit. You jolt back, and he grips you by the hip, holding you in place with one hand.

“Be patient for me, angel. I don’t wanna hurt you,” he slides in, taking his time, paying attention to your gasps. “You okay?”

“Uh-huh, ju- just go slow.”

Like earlier, when Steve tried pushing you through the gate, he soothes you with his touch, thumbs rubbing soft circles against your skin. He sinks a bit further, feeling you clench around him with anticipation. “Angel, gotta relax to let me in…”

“I- I know, m’trying, you’re just— you’re so… so…”

“Shhh, it’s okay, I have you. You’re okay…” He slides deeper, hips almost flush against your backside. “Just relax… that’s it, that’s my girl.”

The praise elicits a pornographic moan out of you, only triggering his cock to twitch against your walls.

“God, wish I could see your face right now,” his mumbling fades into a gravelly groan, sinking deep into you. 

“Y’can if you fuck me when we’re outta here,” you strain out, taking him to the hilt. His cock twitches again, making you both shudder.

“I dunno, what if we can’t get you out, sweetheart?” The tides turn with his tone. He pulls out slowly, teasing your clit with the head of his cock. You twitch and clench around nothing, making him smirk. “What if you’re stuck here forever?” Slamming back into you, your walls clamp down on him, tighter than before. “Oh, what, you like that idea?”

“Steve…”

“You wanna be left here? Where anyone can walk by, use you however they want?” He draws back, snapping his hips back into your ass, relishing in the way you cry out. “Anyone can find you in the woods over there, use that pretty mouth of yours…” Gripping your hips, he pulls back slowly, thrusting in with everything he’s got. It’s becoming a torturous pattern, but he can tell you’re enjoying it with the way you’re soaking his cock. 

“Oh my— fuck…” You gasp from the other side, throwing yourself back into him as far as the gate allows you. He grunts as you meet his thrusts.

“You’d be up for grabs over here too, y’know…” Hands trailing back to your ass, he spreads your cheeks, spitting lewdly on your pretty, puckered hole. “But maybe you’re not that much of a freak—“ You don’t hold back the sinful sound building in your throat over his unfinished concept. “Oh. Oh. You’d like gettin’ fucked by some monsters too, huh? That’s so fuckin’ gross, babe.”

“That ain’t even the half of it,” you manage to reveal through panting and whimpering.

His mind races over the possibilities, slamming into you a little faster.

Steve circles the tight entrance with the pad of his thumb, throbbing deep inside you as he tests the waters, sinking in just a bit. You squirm and whine, relaxing as he continues on, eventually making it past his knuckle— which, wouldn’t be too much, but with the size of his hands, you feel so full off that alone.

“You’re so fuckin’ tight, I don’t think I’ll l- last long,” he murmurs while he pistons his hips into you, growing sloppier by the minute. 

“S’okay… m’not…” You can’t grasp onto the words you need, not when he’s fucking you absolutely brainless between dimensions. “God, Steve, you’re so deep.”

His thumb slips out of you, leaving you emptier than before, making desperate, pathetic mewls and cries. Ignoring you, his hand slides underneath, pressing down onto the peak of your mound. “Where do you feel me? Here?”

“N- no, deeper…”

Steve splays his hand wide, fingers blanketing over your skin; he inches his touch up, just where your belly and pelvis begin to meet. The further he stretches his touch, the more he leans over you, kissing along any bare skin on your back he can reach.

“Here?”

You shake your head, but he can’t see. Your lapse in verbal response earns a smack on your ass, causing you to cry out into the expanse of the woods. 

“Where, babe? Tell me.”

“Up,” whimpering, you push back into him. Hand gliding up to your belly button, he stops.

“Here?”

Eyes rolling back, you let out a broken sob, “Yes!”

Steve pushes down on your belly, just enough for the pressure to meet his thrusts.

“You’re takin’ me like a slut… sound like one, too.” He grunts while bucking wildly into you. His hand disappears, only to join the other in grabbing you by the thighs, nearly lifting your lower half off the ground against him.

The sound is absolutely what you’d expect from two, hopelessly horny idiots, fucking in a circumstance like this one right here. Skin on skin slapping roughly, echoing out into the woods of the Upside Down, in time with his near-feral grunts and throaty groans. On your side, in your world, you can only imagine how close to an injured animal you might sound like, or someone in actual distress, unable to cover your mouth as you hold yourself up while he fucks into you relentlessly.

“M’pretty close, angel,” Steve pants through the gate, hips stuttering while he still gives his all, thrusting mercilessly into you. “Where—  where can I—“

“‘Side…” You groan out, lost in a lust-driven delirium.

Attitude softening, he manages to ask, “In— you mean inside?”

“Uh-huh, wanna be full,” you murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. “Make me yours—“

“Oh, fuck,” Steve’s hips freeze over your words, finally reaching his high. One final cry tears out of you as your fourth and final orgasm trembles through your body, rolling into his. The delicious squeeze and fluttering around him helps milk his release, doing just as you asked, filling you up with his spend. 

Involuntarily, his entire lower half twitches violently into you, and finally, finally, the gate gives, allowing him to tumble through to the other side, shoving you out first. He lands on top of you, rolling over onto the forest floor while you both groan. The woods are quiet, aside from occasional crickets and your loud, ragged breaths, weaving through the branches above.

Though the two of you are ready to fully collapse, the squelching sound of the gate constricting catches your attention; the damn thing closes completely.

Steve chuckles weakly, while you push past any shame that might still linger, shyly smiling over at him.

“Hey…” You attempt to greet him, now that you’re face to face— which, speaking of, his features are still glistening from sweat and your multiple releases. 

“Hi,” he breathes, eyes trailing over your figure, landing and pausing on your exposed core, dripping a lewd mixture of fluids. “Fuck…” He leans forward, but stops himself, mumbling, “If we weren’t in the woods, I’d, uh, help clean you up, but…”

Your eyes widen, taking in his words; neither of you are in a state to fuck around any further, but you make a mental note of the suggestion for the future. “I’m— I’ll remember that.”

Surging towards him with an ounce of renewed energy, you capture his lips in a long-awaited kiss. He makes the cutest noise of surprise, melding against you. Pausing, he murmurs against your lips, “Sorry we couldn’t do that first.” It’s a wild shift in his demeanor post-sex, from a dominant, feral wreck, to this soft, precious person before you.

“We can make up for it though.”

“After a super long fuckin’ nap.” Then he cringes, “And the— y’know, the whole—“ He waves his hand around, rolling his eyes, “the Vecna thing.”

“Right. Yeah. Priorities.” You’re looking forward to all of this coming to an end. All you want is to curl up in bed with Steve, and sleep a whole day away, but that’ll have to wait. 

As clarity brings you back down to earth, you realize you’re still naked from the waist down… which means— 

“Um… Steve?”

“Yeah, angel?”

“… Where’s my shorts?”

[jackactuallywrites]

All Seeing, All Knowing, All Loving part 15

Warnings: None

Summary: You find a pretty dress in a charity shop! And who you gonna show it to? Hmmm

Word Count

ao3 link

It had been a productive day of shopping. Of course, your initial plan hadn’t actually been to buy anything; you were only supposed to go there to look at things, touch some nice textures, have a drink and something sweet, and then go home. But you hadn’t planned on the dress.

Why such a beautiful dress was stuffed in the back of an Oxfam was beyond you. It looked as though it had come from some royal princess, all expensive black satin, with an off-the-shoulder neckline and a full skirt. Destiny clearly had a hand in things, as not only was it in your size, but it was also under a hundred pounds. It was still a little expensive, more than you would have considered spending on a normal dress, but there was something special about it. It was giving vintage Christian Dior- the new look. It wasn’t actually one of his gowns; of course, that would have been too lucky, but that didn’t make it any less beautiful.

“Buy it.” Katie was very certain in her opinion of the dress, “Buy it, and then get fucked in it.”

“Can’t I just wear it?”

She shrugged, “I mean if you want to be boring, sure. But a dress like that deserves an event, an occasion, you know? Something special.”

You gave it a little twirl on the hanger, watching the skirt billow, “I don’t think I have an occasion that’s good enough for a dress like this. It’s not like I’m invited to Buckingham Palace.”

Katie snorted, “Place is full of nonces and cunts anyways, why would you want to go there?”

You snorted, “Alright, fair point. If I was to go to, uh,” you couldn’t really think of a fancy event you could feasibly go to, “yeah, no, I’m not posh enough for this dress.”

Katie took the dress from you, walking away so quickly that you didn’t have time to stop her. She went straight to the counter, where she plopped it down, already taking her card out to buy it. You protested, “Kate, come on, it’s too much.”

The woman at the counter raised an eyebrow, and Kate rolled her eyes, “Don’t pay attention to her. I’m buying this. Could you find us a bag or something to put it in, please?” The woman clearly didn’t care about your little disagreement; after all, she was in customer service; no doubt she had developed the ability to ignore all sorts of shit. She just held out the card reader for Katie to tap her card on, which she did, and then went off into the back to pack the dress into a bag.

“Kate, how am I possibly supposed to repay you for this?”

Katie rolled her eyes at you, “You know that’s not the point of friendship, right? We’ve never been the type to obsess over who owes who. You bought me coffee, I bought you a dress. Who cares?”

That was how it went with her. She worked hard, and she scrimped and saved on other aspects of her life so she could spend frivolously when she liked. A wonderful trait, really; she was generous and kind, but it had always bugged you that you could never repay her generosity the same way.

Soon enough, the woman returned with an old paper Primark bag, in which she had carefully folded the dress up and put it inside. The contrast was kind of funny. Katie picked up the bag and balanced the thin paper straps on her arm, then walked out of the shop, leaving you to quickly walk after her.

It was hard to wander around the shops after that; you had something truly decadent in your bag, expensive and wonderful, and it was hard to not cradle it to your chest like a baby at every moment, terrified that if you put it down for even a second, it would be stolen. You didn’t even dare eat near it, terrified that you’d get some sort of icing or crumb on it and ruin the fabric. Katie bought you a plastic bag just so you could double bag it for safety, and then you finally allowed yourself to eat some cake.

When Katie had finally gotten on the bus home, you texted Ghost.

‘You: You still want to give me a lift?’

It didn’t take long for him to text back.

‘Ghost: Where are you?’

You took a picture of the cafe you were sitting outside and sent it to him.

‘You: (image) You know this place?’

‘Ghost: Will be there soon. ETA 15 minutes.’

He didn’t fuck about. You took a seat on a nearby concrete planter and waited.

It didn’t take long for him to turn up, fourteen minutes later, in his little black car. You could see that he wasn’t wearing his usual balaclava. Instead, he was wearing a black surgical mask and a pair of sunglasses. Subtle.

You opened the passenger side door, and were greeted by the intoxicating smell of his cologne, as well as the quiet thumping bass of house music. It sounded like a 90s rave. You took a seat, placing your bags in the footwell and pulling the door closed behind you. Then, you turned to Ghost, your eyes flicking over the dark bruises that still littered his face. Perhaps that was why he’d chosen to wear a mask and sunglasses.

“Had a nice day?” He questioned.

You nodded, “Yeah, pretty decent. You been up to much?”

Ghost shrugged as he put the car into gear, and you put on your seatbelt, choosing not to pry.

The question came out regardless.

“So what did you do today?”

“Bit of this, bit of that.”

“You always so secretive?”

He snorted, “Part of the job.”

“Ah, right, SAS stuff.”

“Not interesting, really. Tell me about your day.”

You weren’t sure how interested Ghost was in the intricacies of shopping, but you regaled him with your day regardless, and he was nice enough to ask further questions about what you had for lunch and if you got anything from Boots. Considering the bizarre circumstances under which you’d met him, the conversation was strangely normal, just two people chit-chatting about a day. You kept the conversation going right up to your front door, “You have to see this dress I got. I swear, I’ve never seen anything so beautiful in my life.”

“You look in a mirror every day, don’t you?”

You snorted as you opened your door, “My God. Are you made of sugar?”

“You can taste me if you like.”

That made you cackle, and you dumped your bags on the counter, “Terrible.”

Your fingers trailed over the plastic bag that contained the dress, and you looked at Ghost curiously, “Want to see the dress?”

“Of course.”

Very carefully, you undid the plastic bag and then took the paper bag out, reaching in to take the dress out, the beautiful garment still on the padded hanger. You shook it out with a flourish, “Look! Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“I’d have to see it on.”

You weren’t sure if that was a subtle way to get you out of your clothes, but you did want an excuse to get into the dress.

“Wait here.”

The dress was surprisingly annoying to get into. Satin didn’t have much give, so you had to wiggle to get it around your thighs, terrified that you’d pull too hard and rip the fabric. Now, you were faced with a different problem. The zip was annoying to get to, you had to twist to get it, and the damn thing was so small and delicate it was constantly slipping out of your fingers. You probably could have done it yourself, but then an interesting idea came to mind. You held the dress tight to your chest, covering your bare chest with the fabric, your back fully exposed to the air. Was your underwear visible at the very bottom of the open zipper? You hoped so.

You walked back into the living room, wearing only your knickers and a half-zipped-up dress. Ghost was in the kitchen, apparently making himself tea, seemingly very at home. “I need your help.”

He turned around slowly, tea in hand, his mask and sunglasses off, “What d’you-“ his voice faded as he took in the sight of you, and a slow smile spread over his bruised and battered face. “You need my help with that?”

You turned around, showing him your back, “I need you to zip me up.”

You felt exposed like this, your back turned to him, waiting awkwardly in the dim light of your room, unable to see what he was thinking.

Then, the quiet sound of footsteps on the carpet as he walked over to you and the hairs on the back of your neck prickled as you felt his presence behind you. His fingers brushed against your back as you felt him pull the fabric together, goosebumps prickling over your exposed skin as he slowly began to pull the zipper upwards. About halfway up, he paused to brush the hair off the nape of your neck, his fingers soft and gentle against your skin, letting your hair softly fall over your collarbone. His fingers paused there for a moment, taking a long, meandering path from the tip of your shoulder blade across to your spine and then straight down your back until he met with the zipper again.

A subtle shiver went through the length of your body. Christ. A single touch from the man, and you were ready to throw him into your bed. This was supposed to be you teasing him! The zip went up swiftly until the dress was pulled snugly around your body, with Ghost fastening the clasp at the back. You very quickly took a step forward away from him, needing to put a little space in between the two of you before you tried to jump his bones. The dress swooshed as you moved, a good distraction from the sheer desire coursing through your veins, and you decided to do a little spin, watching the fabric twirl out around you.

“How does it feel?” Ghost asked.

It felt like you wanted to ride him, but you didn’t verbalise that. Instead, you just smiled and brushed the fabric out, “Fancy. Might need a petticoat to really poof out the skirt, though.”

When you looked at Ghost, you could see how large his pupils were, like a cat about to pounce, his jaw tense. He looked agitated. You smiled at him, swishing the dress side to side, “What do you think?”

Ghost cleared his throat, “Think you need someplace to wear it.”

You sighed, “Well yeah, but I don’t have anywhere that calls for a dress like this.”

“I might.”

That got a raised brow from you, and you looked at him curiously, “Really? I can’t see you in a suit.”

The corners of his lips pulled up in a slight smile, “I’ve been known to wear one. When duty calls.”

“Duty calls for you to wear a suit?”

“Soldiers have dos. Occasionally.”

You tilted your head at him, “You inviting me to a fancy soldiers party as your date?”

Ghost reached out for your hand, placing his other hand on top of it, a silent, solemn promise, “The next time we have a proper mess dinner, I want you on my arm. In this dress.”

It was impossible not to smile at that, and you gave him a little mock curtsy, “I’d be delighted to.”

“So,” Ghost began, gently pulling on your hands to bring you closer to him, “You need help getting out of this dress?”

You put your hand out to keep some space between you, your fingers coming into contact with his chest. Even though there was the thick material of his black jumper between your hands and his skin, it was thrilling. Yet, you could see a slight tautness in Ghost’s jaw, a slight furrowing of his brows. Something was wrong.

“You alright?”

Ghost cleared his throat and took a step back from you, dropping your hand, “Yeah, no, I’m fine.” He ran his fingers through his hair, “I just, I should get going.”

He’d been trying to get you out of your dress, but now it seemed like he was trying to flee. You couldn’t figure out where things had gone wrong. He turned away from you to go to the kitchen to grab his mask and sunglasses from where he’d dumped them on the counter, covering his face up once again. He made a gesture for you to turn around when he returned to the living room, and you did so, turning your back to him. This time, he avoided touching your bare skin as he undid the clasp and pulled the zip halfway down, far enough down where you could do the rest easily.

You turned around to him, trying to scan him for any sort of upset, but it was impossible to read anything under the sunglasses and mask, probably by design. He reached out to touch your cheek, his fingers softly grazing against your skin, before he abruptly turned and left.

[badgeredwrites]

ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ’s ɴᴏᴛᴇ: Holy shit. Look at me starting strong with a stalker Barty… And considering I am the self-proclaimed love of his life, I thought it was fitting. Anyways, this is a concept I’d definitely love to explore in the future. Let me know what you think! ᡣ𐭩

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: Exploration of Stalking & Obsessive Behaviors, Mentions of Borderline Personality Disorder, Emotional Manipulation, Brief Abusive Parental Relationships

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 657

⋆｡°✩ Concept: Stalker!Barty

Alright, so, I finished reading Lights Out by Navessa Allen recently and since my mind automatically goes to everything Marauders related, I asked myself: Out of everyone in the Marauders Era, who would most be like Josh?

The only person who came to mind was, of course, none other than Barty Crouch Jr. There are several reasons for this… Let me explain.

Imagine:

Modern AU where technology becomes prevalent in everyday life, including in the wizarding community.

Barty Crouch Jr, the son of a well-known politician who favors his public image and reputation over everything else, having absolutely no online presence due to his father’s strict rules.

However, despite this, he’s drawn to muggle technology and since his father is not only emotionally absent but also neglectful, he’s essentially left to his own devices. Which gives him the perfect opportunity to explore his interest in tech (and develop an anonymous online persona—we’ll come back to this in a moment).

Canonically speaking, Barty is one of the most brilliant people in the Harry Potter series. He was sorted into Ravenclaw and received all twelve O.W.L.s. Not to mention, he was also able to live as Mad-Eye Moody under Polyjuice potion for months without being detected.

With this information in mind, it’s safe to say he would be quite skilled in the field of technology. It wouldn’t take long for him to hone his abilities.

Now, back to the anonymous online persona, I feel like it would be safe to assume that Barty would have quite the rebellious streak. He, truthfully, could not care less about his father’s reputation. However, in order to avoid the man’s wrath (because let’s be real, Bartemius Sr was most definitely an abusive piece of shit) and with the growing popularity of masked accounts online, he seizes his opportunity to participate in the trend.

This ultimately leads to him becoming one of the most popular accounts, but the attention he garnishes is nothing more than an ego boost to him. That is until someone eventually catches his eye.

Personally, I’ve always thought that it would be possible for Barty to have undiagnosed Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD), which can lead to obsessive tendencies (extending towards platonic relationships, not just romantic).

This man would also be the type to have avoidant attachment issues due to the lack of care regarding his emotional needs as a child.

So, when his attention is caught by this individual online, his thoughts are literally consumed by them.

Through the usage of technology and his vast understanding of it, the stalking would start small. With a quick search about them online he would be able to start compiling information regarding their interests, the locations they frequent, their personal relationships, etc.

Of course, this behavior would quickly escalate.

Remember, Barty has an anonymous online persona. Nobody—not even his closest friends—knows of the identity behind his masked account, so this would give him a major advantage. He would have the ability to “coincidentally” appear in the places this individual visits most often.

Which, in turn, allows him to develop a personal relationship with his victim.

Unfortunately for Barty, due to his struggles with BPD, I do believe he would find it difficult to establish a relationship with them at first. After all, he’s quite standoffish person when it comes to new people.

However, equipped with the knowledge he gained through his online stalking, he would be able to use this to his advantage to slowly gain their trust.

In my opinion, it would only be when he establishes a bond with his victim that the monitoring begins.

Perhaps he gifts them something small, such as a key chain or hair clip that actually has a tracker inside of it… Or, once he finally is invited over and places inconspicuous cameras around their home, allowing him footage from every angle.

There are honestly so many things that could be done with Barty as a stalker (and I intend to explore them all).

[paradisetemporarilymisplaced]

I really cannot tell you how much I don’t care that rwrb started out as social network rpf

[torahtot]

you can always tell when someone doesn't have maga men in their life and god it makes me angry.. "if you're nice and compassionate you can be the one woman that makes them realize women aren't mean!" my mom bent over backwards for my dad for 25 fucking years he has plenty of other women kissing his ass and it never changed anything. do you really think that before being radicalized they never knew a single kind woman? they were never friends with a nice girl? alt-right men's problem with women isn't just that they've experienced too many mean women and they need to be shown that women can be nice, it's that they think women are inferior and don't deserve rights and don't understand anything so you can do what you want with them. and it takes a lot more than being nice to show someone that you aren't inferior. this isn't a case of being nice even when it's hard for the sake of deradicalization, it's about spending every fucking interaction with someone trying to get them to see you as a human being with value and a functioning intellect while they just laugh and show you that's never going to happen.

i cannot stress this enough: random women are not just going out and Being Mean to men. ur average guy interacts with plenty of women throughout his life- close women amongst their friends and family, casual interactions etc. most people don't start out being shunned by women, they start out being treated as NORMAL. & when they show their disrespect in normal society, it isn't tolerated, but when they go to alt-right spaces (which they're pushed towards online) they're told they're allowed to be as horrible as they want with no consequences because they're entitled to everything. it isn't "women aren't welcoming and the alt-right is so friendly so i'll become alt-right," it's "women don't let me disrespect them and the alt-right tells me fuck them, do whatever you want, you're entitled to it all" and why would you choose the group where you have to be a normal accountable person when there's a group that will reward you for being a shithead who gives no fucks?

the alt-right can afford to be more friendly and welcoming because they can allow bigotry. this can't work the same way for progressive spaces because we can be as kind & welcoming as possible but at the end of the day we have lines where we have to say "this behavior/speech isn't allowed in this space," and for certain people, that just can't win against a space where you can be as nasty as you want. these posts always end with a disclaimer saying "of course being kind doesnt mean you need to tolerate their bigotries" but what they don't realize and what drives me crazy is that women not tolerating bigotry IS the "women are mean" that radicalized them in the first place. they perceive you pushing back on any bigotry or bullshit as you being a meanie and treating them like they're ontologically evil. the 'kindness' they need to be deradicalized is you letting them walk all over you.

idk what the answer is to deradicalizing them and im sure relationships are part of it but you can be as kind as you want and all it will do is destroy you ime. i cant stand to see people (who have never even successfully deradicalized any man by being nice btw they always speak in hypotheticals and not from experience) double down on telling women to do things that will see no results and only hurt them, especially when any woman who has tried can tell you exactly how it went

[arosebyan0thername]

If there are a million Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, I am one of them. If there are only two Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, I am one of them (Eva Noblezada is the other). If there are no Reeve Carney as Orpheus fans in the world, Eva Noblezada and I are dead 😔

[null-doesnothing]

everyone complaining about the new S&Co episode because it had a section where Mariana and Watson shared a bed are super fucking annoying btw just saying

[mokeonn]

Before I go to sleep I leave you all with this piece of advice: sometimes you don't actually have to answer big political questions, sometimes you can just say "I am not smart enough to know that, I just know the small things I do to help." Like you can often times completely avoid making a fool of yourself if you just say you don't know.

[redtail-lol]

Hot take I think that the vast majority of autistic people lack empathy to some degree, it's just a misunderstood and stigmatized symptom so a lot of autistic people mistakenly believe themselves to have complete or hyper empathy

[2pen2wildfire]

Thinking about the time my homophobic mormon grandad tried to psychoanalyze me while we were driving and he was guiding me through this like weird mental thingy (like some weird new-agey attempt at conversion therapy) and commenting on the things I was telling him I could see in my mind as if it was some huge breakthrough but I was just fucking with him the whole time. He told me to picture a door and then open it and asked me what was behind it and I literally just described Wu's teapot from Ninjago.

[icewindandboringhorror]

Lineup of all of the characters that appear long enough to need a visual representation of them in the game lol

[a-dash-in-the-middle]

i don't know if i am horrible at communicating when i want a little attention or when i feel forgotten, or if people just in general never think it is about them because in their mind all of our needs are met and i am venting about everybody else?

[technicolorxsn]

love how there are pretentious video essays that just repeat the book and meander and ramble about house of leaves. it's what zampanó would have wanted. it is not, however, what I want

[ultfreakme]

You know what I hope there are no romance plots in the ATLA live action. No ones smooching anyone, everyone’s balling being besties or enemies. Whatever I don't watch ATLA for the romance anyways.

[blujayonthewing]

reading the forgotten realms wiki for gnomes is so funny because dnd lore for gnomes has waffled so much between editions, and 5e doesn't get as deep into gnomes (or any race lore tbh) as earlier editions did, so as someone who's been extrapolating pretty much exclusively out of 5e a lot of it's just like...... wrong