#pilot knob

[kramlabs]

I know nothing about ley lines but this is fascinating

:::

Adding words for search

-mounds

-society of friends

-moorish

-limestone

[fluffylino]

pussy agenda with hyunjin

-contains mature themes

he can't keep his hands to himself.

doesn't really have to be sexual. but likes to shove his hand down your pants to cup your mound with his hand.

it could be at any time of the day.

regardless of whether you were sitting on the couch. or standing in the kitchen. or doing anything really.

you've gotten so used to it, it doesn't even bother you.

its so casual.

like you'd be telling him about how you read some weirdly interesting article. and he'd lazily walk over to you. listening and acknowledging everything you said.

but his hand had a mind of its own. slipping in your pants, to feel your warm cunt. middle finger running along your slit. before he takes his hand out and continues talking.

there are days when he'll purposely tease you. digging his fingers just a bit in. a small smile on his face when he feels you throb. making you make a startled noise. leaving you wet and swollen.

especially after he gets home from practice. hooking his chin on your shoulder. his left hand kneading your boob and his right hand in your pants.

.

shaving as well.

once, you had forgotten to lock the bathroom door. not like you even had to. the two of you were more than comfortable.

neck aching as you made sure you didn't miss any spots. your leg raised up on the sink counter. razor still in your hand while you shaved.

you had finished with your legs and arms. and now, (as hyunjin would say) your most delicate part remained.

you groaned. jumping a bit as your eyes met with a nonchalant hyunjin. who was leaning against the door frame, hand still resting on the door knob.

"need help?"

your cheeks flushing at his outrageous question. not to mention you were half naked. you needed help. and you trusted him. but it was more because your legs ached.

"i'll help you shave" he admitted, walking in. closing the door behind him.

and he indeed did.

"you don't need to shave by the way" he reassured.

"i'd eat your precious cunt regardless" such a casual statement to make. while keeping your legs open.

"careful" you mumbled, eyes cast down to where he was kneeling down. spreading your pussy lips apart.

as if he was inspecting your folds. gentle with each stroke of the razor.

"i know. baby's delicate pussy is very sensitive" hyunjin muttered, biting his lip as he concentrated on the task at hand. eyes fixed on your pussy. it made you feel very...exposed and maybe a bit turned on. his warm breath making you feel even hotter.

and after he's done.

he kisses it. working his way up.

"gonna have my fun with you later"  pressing his cushioney lips to your freshly shaven pussy. it was almost like he was letting your pussy know well in advance.

and pulling away with accomplishment written all over his face.

cause now you were getting wet.

.

or if he's driving. (like in the recent skz code). he'd be holding the steering wheel with his left hand. his right hand intertwined with yours.

slowly getting carried away.

till his fingers are teasing your slit. rubbing against it and pressing the pads of his index into your pussy. and pulling out. and doing it all over again.

never actually pushing all the way in.

keeping his finger pressed between your folds. almost like he's having his own fun while you're squirming and closing your legs around his hand.

he's focused on driving, reading the sign boards. even asking you if you're hungry. acting normal as though his hand isn't shoved down your panties. but as i mentioned. his fingers are on auto pilot.

in conclusion,

hyunjin would do anything for your pussy. even if that includes fleeting touches.

.

.

.

.

did you like it ehe.......

[band--psycho]

Zayne x Reader - Doctor Visits

Please be kind, reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support! I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms!

Warnings: Doctors appointments, brief mentions of a blood test, mature themes towards the end

I do intend to write a Part 2 for this

L&DS Masterlist / Zayne Masterlist / Join My Taglist

“Thank you for checking in,” the receptionist at the hospital said with a polite smile, “Dr Zayne will be with you soon”

Your heart dropped at her words. 

Dr Zayne? 

“I think there must be some mistake?” You stated; trying to understand how you’re seeing Zayne for this appointment when 1) you didn’t book this appointment with him and 2) he was meant to be on holiday; at least that’s what he told you a few days ago when you last spoke to him. 

“The doctor you booked to see is unavailable right now,” the receptionist clarified her focus shifting from the screen she’d been staring at for a few moments. 

Obviously your unease must’ve been written all over your face because the receptionist followed her own words up with, “If you wish to wait until the doctor you originally booked in to see is available we can reschedule your appointment.” 

You wanted to reschedule. 

But you knew that you couldn’t. 

The Hunters Association had very strict rules on keeping up to date with doctors appointments so that medical records could be kept accurate. 

And recently you’d been so busy with missions and studying; that booking the appointment had completely slipped your mind, that was until Tara mentioned it a few days ago.

This was the last day you could have an appointment before you would be overdue on it.

Which although it wasn’t the end of the world, wasn’t exactly an ideal situation. 

But neither was having Zayne as your doctor for this. 

“It’s fine,” you reluctantly said, moving away from the receptionist's desk and taking a seat in the waiting area.

Zayne was your usual primary physician, he was the one that kept a vigilant eye on your heart condition and made sure that your blood pressure and everything else was okay. 

And although this was just a routine doctor's appointment, knowing that Zayne was now going to be asking you private questions and listening to your answers, made you want to run out of the hospital eight that second.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Zayne, you did.

More so than you trusted anyone really. 

And you knew that he would remain professional regardless of your answers.

But the truth was you were embarrassed; embarrassed to admit things that you hadn’t shared with anyone.

Things that you certainly didn’t ever think you’d have to admit to Zayne. 

“Y/n,” a familiar voice snapped you out of your thoughts, looking up you saw Yvonne standing in front of you, “Dr Zayne will see you now.”

You nodded briefly, giving her a small smile as you rose to your feet. 

It was like your body was on auto-pilot, and you followed Yvonne straight to Zaynes office. 

The nurse gave you a small nod, signaling that you could go in, before walking away down the hall. 

You took a deep breath; your hand gingerly hovering over the door knob, wondering if you could attempt to make a last minute dash to the exit without anyone seeing.

The opportunity to do so was there, you could go now and no questions would really be asked. 

Except Zayne would know that he was meant to see you today…and if you didn’t show up to your appointment, he’d start asking why. 

And it would mean that you’d have to reschedule it for another day without knowing when the original doctor you booked in with would be free. 

‘The sooner I go in, the sooner it’ll be done’ you thought to yourself, placing your hand on the door handle, pushing the door open and walking into Zaynes office. 

“Y/n/n,” Zaynes stoic voice filled your ears, only raising your already heightened anxiety

‘Just breathe,’ you thought to yourself, turning to look at the doctor sitting behind a desk. 

“Please have a seat,” Zayne continued, extending his hand slightly towards the chair on the other side of his desk. 

You let out a shallow breath, attempting to compose yourself as you sat down in the chair opposite him. 

“I apologise about that change to your appointment,” Zayne began; typing away on the keyboard, his eyes fixed on the computer screen. 

“It’s okay,” you answered quietly, absentmindedly fidgeting with your hands as they laid in your lap.

“You seem nervous,” Zayne pointed out, glancing up at you over his glasses briefly, before turning his attention back to the computer.

His words made you aware of what your hands were doing; halting your fidgeting movements.

“You don’t need to be, this is just a routine appointment,” he assured you with a small smile; but his words didn’t do much to ease your anxiety. 

~~~~~~

The questions started off normal, like “How have you felt since your last check up?”, “Have you had any new injuries from any recent missions,” etcetera, etcetera, and then they started to get a bit more private, a bit more personal. 

Starting with, “Any irregularities in your menstrual cycle?” 

“No,” you answered back finitely, making Zaynes eyes fall on you once again; but this time, he held your gaze.

He knew that you were lying. 

And you knew that he knew. 

The way in which you answered the question was an obvious giveaway. 

But even without that, you knew Zayne would probably have sussed out that you were lying, he always knew. 

“Y/n, it is key in these appointments for you to be honest with your doctor,” he reminded you softly, urging you to tell him the truth. 

But you knew what your answer could imply; you were a week late, just one week and you knew that it was probably because of stress and exhaustion; not because of any other reason. 

You knew your answer would open a door to more personal questions; but you also knew that you needed to tell Zayne the truth.

“I’m a week late,”

“I see,” he replied, turning back to his computer screen, for a brief moment you saw something in his eyes, a look of…hurt, you watched how his jaw tightened and he continued typing away on his computer, “and when was the last time you were intimate with someone?” 

And there it was, the very question types of questions you were trying to avoid.

You knew what he was implying with his question.

His question was almost laughable, had you not been so embarrassed about the answer you knew you’d have to give, you probably would have laughed.

In truth, you could barely remember the last time you went on a date with someone, let alone the last times you were intimate with someone; and now you had to admit that to the very man who was part of the reason why. 

You liked Zayne, as more than a friend… in all honesty, to you, no one else compared to him. 

So even if you did have the time to date people, or be intimate with them, you wouldn’t because they weren’t Zayne. 

Sometimes, you thought he held the same feelings for you,even though he’d never said anything to give you such an idea. 

It was more in the way you caught him looking at you sometimes…with a look that not only made your heart skip a beat, but a look that made you wonder. 

A look that made you wonder if he felt the same; or if it was just your hopeful heart messing with your mind.

“A year,” you mumbled, feeling the heat of embarrassment fill your cheeks.

It was a year ago, with someone you met in a bar, one thing led to another and you ended up in their bed. 

It was then that you realised how you truly felt for Zayne…because all you could do whilst you were being intimate with them, was imagine Zayne.

After that, you couldn’t bring yourself to try and meet anyone else. 

You didn’t want to. 

Which is why you kept yourself busy with work; it stopped you from being able to think about your own loneliness too much. 

Zayne said nothing in response to your answer; though you did notice his expression seemed to soften as he typed your answer up on your medical record sheet.

A few more questions and a blood test later and your appointment was over and you were following Zayne to the door to his office. 

“I’m going to sign you off for a few days; so you can get some rest,” he said as he put his hand on the handle of the door. 

“Zayne-” you attempted to argue back but he just shook his head, silencing your words, before you could even finish your counter argument. 

“A few days of rest,” He repeated softly, though you knew by the look in his eyes that there was no use arguing with him.

“Understand?” His voice was just above a whisper but it was loud enough to send a small pleasurable shiver throughout your body. 

You couldn’t help but wonder if he knew how much of an effect he had on you by just whispering to you like this. 

“Y/n,”

You hated your first name, so you always went by Y/n/n. 

Hearing your full first name was unusual, no one called you it anymore; but it was especially unusual hearing it fall from Zayne's lips; though for some reason your name sounded good on his lips.

“Do you understand?” he asked again

You knew you shouldn’t have found his question as erotic as you did; it was a simple question, but the authority in his voice mixed with the way his eyes were burning into yours, made you feel very hot and tingly all of a sudden. 

You were turned on...

You needed to play it cool, act like you perfectly fine, so you nodded in agreement.

Not daring to trust your voice at this very moment; not when you were this close to each other. 

“Good,” was the last thing he said to you before opening the door, allowing you to walk out of his office.

You'd barely take a few steps away from his door before you heard it click shut behind you; it was only then you released a breath you hadn't been aware of holding as you replayed what just happened in your mind.

He was so close to you...so close...

'Stop it,' you mentally scolded yourself as you began walking down the hallway.

You passed the reception and left the hospital quickly, trying to think about what you were going to do with your now free days, instead of how much you wanted Zayne...

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @fangirlsfandomsss @book-dragon03 @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @princess-harvey @deathkat657 @comatosebunny09 @the-slytherin-poet @ladyparamount @ayatoq @cheesemachine44 @popcorn-mochi01 @thegalaxysedge22 @hotdogcookie

[thebearer]

i looooove the way you wrote carmys casual dominance over the reader in the feeling. could you write something else that has that same vibe? like him being protective/ dominant over her while they’re around the rest of the crew?

ahhh thank you so much!!! the casual dominance was a must for me with carmy it just makes me weak in the knees lol.

"Why don't you let me help you?" You hummed, leaning over Carmen's shoulder, watching as he expertly cut the onions. "I can handle spaghetti sauce."

Carmen scoffed lightly, looking up at you under heavy brows, still chopping furiously- much faster than anything you could. "I got it." He nodded.

Your face fell slightly, stepping back to stand beside him. Carmen invited you to family every night before the restaurant opened, it was sometimes the only time you'd see him until that night when he'd collapse into bed next to you. It was the busy season, summer and tourist time, meaning everyone wanted to come to the infamous restaurant.

Carmen's chest flooded with a pang of guilt at your small frown. Fuck, maybe he'd been too mean. "'m sorry, baby. Here, I have prep to do. Can you put this in the pan for me? Start it."

The tiny smile that curled on your lips made Carmen's heart skip in his chest. "Yes, Chef." You hummed, pressing a kiss to his cheek, snagging the diced onions and sliding them into the pan.

You'd seen Carmen make it enough to know how to make this recipe. Canned tomato sauce, oregano, onions- you measured them, adding it all easily.

"Woah-ho-ho, look who we got here." Richie cackled, turning the corner, ignoring Sydney's screams to announce it. "We got a new chef on the roster?"

You rolled your eyes, snagging the can opener and pressing the handles together. "Yeah, I'm your replacement, Richie."

Richie's face fell slightly. He knew you were joking but a part of him worried. "Cousin, what's this, huh?"

"She's just helping, alright? Get outta the way." Carmen nodded, slicing the beef easily. His eyes watched you, flicking from his task back to you.

"Hey," Carmen called, a firm snap of the tongue that had you turning to him. "Put the hair back, baby. No one wants a hair in their food."

"Yeah, c'mon." Richie added, snickering as you snagged the hair tie off your wrist. "Gonna replace me and she don't even know how to cook right-"

"Hey, easy, cousin." Carmen's eyes were hard, glaring at Richie, the whirr of his knife sliding across the cutting board adding a dangerous edge.

Richie held his hands up in mock defense. "My apologies, your fucking majesties." He scoffed.

You rolled your eyes, moving onto the next step on the card, pouring the cans of sauce in easily and stirring, giving the side of the pan a firm tap with the spoon to get the excess off. Reaching for the knob to turn the heat up, Carmen's hands were on your waist before you could.

"Here, baby," Carmen rasped, pulling you back slightly. "Gotta loose shirt on, so you gotta stay back, alright? Tuck it in or something for me. I don't want it catchin' on fire." He muttered, hand sliding over the hem of your shirt, pressing it gently against you.

"Actually, go find an apron, ok? I'l get this started. I don't want you gettin' anything on ya." Carmen nodded towards the back.

"Yes, Chef." You saluted him playfully, passing the spoon to him.

Carmen watched you walk towards his office, stirring the ingredients before turning on the stove. He let the flame on a low flicker, reaching in his pocket for his own cigarettes, fishing one out and lighting it under the pilot light.

"Chef," Carmen called, catching Sydney as she turned the corner. "You got it?"

"I got it." Sydney nodded.

"Great, I'll be in my office." Carmen walked off, finding you in his office, lazily looking through the papers on his desk.

"Anything good?" He asked, leaning against the door, arms crossed over his broad chest.

"What is spicy Moroccan carrot salad?" You tilted your head, reading Carmen's sloppy handwriting scribbled on the notecard.

"A side Sydney thinks would go good with the flounder we're getting in." Carmen hummed, blowing the smoke out the door before shutting it behind him.

He sunk down in his chair, patting his lap for you to sit with him. "Thanks f' helpin' me with family tonight." Carmen muttered, arms around your waist, bumming the cigarette in the tray. "Shouldn't be too long tonight."

You hummed, leaning back into his chest, head lulling back so you could look at him. "Not too long like I should wait up for you or...?"

Carmen snorted lightly. "I'll be home before midnight. Sydney and Marcus are closing tonight." He sighed, pressing a tiny kiss on your shoulder.

"Good," You grinned, turning so you were straddling him, your core rocking over his, covered by the aprons.

[lewmagoo]

how lew characters come home:

bob is quiet as a mouse. he will walk into the room and give you a heart attack because you didn’t hear him coming. truly, he doesn’t mean to make you jump, and he always feels bad for scaring you, but he also can’t hide his amused smile every time it happens. they don’t call him a stealth pilot wso for nothing!

rhett comes home like a bull in a china shop. but sometimes he’s completely silent when he comes into the house or down the steps. however, what usually gives him away is the fact that his joints pop when he walks. so, many times, sneaking up on you is not really an option because you’ll hear his knees or his ankles pop and you’ll just go “i know you’re there, rhett.” and he’s like🧍

miles is also super quiet. he’s like a cat. you have no idea where he is and then all the sudden he just spawns out of nowhere seeking out affection. he’s very good at sneaking because of his military training, and because he had to be sneaky when he worked at the el royale. now he basically flits about your home like a sweet little silent house ghost 👻

calvin comes home very loudly. keys clattering, carrying a million things, shoving the door open and letting it bang into the wall (you’ve had to remind him not to do that because the knob created a hole in the wall once). he calls out “honey, i’m home!” every single time. he is just a beautiful ball of loud chaos and you love him.

jordan is a wild card. he can be obnoxiously loud when he wants to be. other times he sneaks into the house and you don’t even know he’s there until you get jumpscared by him just walking into the room. he learned his lesson not to sneak up behind you though, because last time he did that you reacted out of reflex and he ended up on the floor. he’s mildly scared of you now lol.

[marlynnofmany]

Early Efforts

 I was keeping Wio company in the cockpit, because piloting can be boring in empty space, when an alert dinged. Wio paused her story about an underwater race she’d won on her home planet. I held my questions while she tapped the controls, tentacles dancing across the console. Finally she sat back and relaxed.

 “Nothing big,” she told me. “Just a bit of metal junk among the rock.” One of the smaller screens zoomed in on a patch of space that turned out to hold a tumbling asteroid. “It doesn’t register as any known weapon, so it’s probably not a lost mine or what-have-you.”

 Surprised, I looked around the cockpit as if it would give me a view through the walls. “Is this area known for those?”

 “Nope,” said Wio. “But space is big and time is long. It wouldn’t be the first time idiots fighting each other didn’t give a flip about the rest of the universe.”

 “Yeah, or the last,” I agreed. “So what is it, if it’s not dangerous? Can we tell?”

 Wio turned a few knobs and flicked a switch. “Not from this distance. The readings I’m getting are of common ship-building materials.”

 “So it’s from a crash? Do you think it was that crash?” I pointed over my shoulder, again as if we could simply look back to see the wreck I meant. I probably wasn’t even pointing in the right direction. We hadn’t seen the joyriding accident in person, just heard about it when we picked up our latest cargo.

 “Ehh,” Wio said, studying a complicated set of imagery. “Don’t think so. Pretty sure the angle’s wrong. Possible, but unlikely.”

 “If it is, do you think they’ll want their part back?”

 “Depends on what shape it’s in,” Wio said with a wrinkle of her octopuslike forehead. “We’d have better odds selling it for scrap at the next station with a good mechanic’s sector.”

 I scanned the many screens and readouts, trying to get a feel for how much of a detour it was. “Do you think that’s worth checking?”

 “Sure do,” Wio said cheerily, tapping buttons and touchscreens, adjusting dials and fiddling with a couple odd bits on the console that I’m pretty sure were there just for fidgeting purposes. Wio was rarely still.

 “Should we — oh, you already pinged her.” I spotted the little red light that said the captain had been called. I expected a comm call as soon as Captain Sunlight got a spare moment, but she must have been nearby, because she just showed up at the door.

 “Yes?” asked Captain Sunlight, posture as regal as ever and scales a slightly brighter yellow than usual. I still hadn’t found a polite way to ask if the Heatseekers on the ship polished their scales or shed them in privacy for that occasional fresh look. Now certainly wasn’t the time.

 Wio spun in her chair. “Permission to make a minor detour for potential salvage?”

 “Show me.” The captain walked over for a better look, about head height since I was sitting down. She peered at the various readings and gave permission.

 And, since it really was a very minor detour, she just stood there and waited while we closed in on the lump of rock and metal. Soon enough we could see it on the main screen: turning end over end, traveling in roughly the same direction we were, just much slower.

 “No radioactivity,” Wio reported. “No air pockets either, and the chance of germs is near-zero.”

 “The components seem relatively straightforward for a bit of simple machinery,” said the captain, reading a chart that I’d thought listed something else.

 While they went over the analysis, I reflected that I really should ask Wio to teach me the basics of the controls in here. Not enough to fly — I was fully aware of how much training went into that — but just enough so I didn’t feel like an idiot Earthling who’d never been to space before when more than one screen was active.

 “Let’s use the grabber,” Captain Sunlight said. “I’ll prep the cargo bay.” She made several calls to different parts of the ship while Wio unfolded a portion of the controls that I hadn’t seen yet. It was labeled “Grabbing Arm.”

 “Ooh, how’s that work?” I asked.

 “It’s nice and intuitive for once,” Wio said as she ignored it for long enough to steer us right alongside the spinning lump. She locked the speed in (but didn’t make us spin to match it, thankfully. That would have been a bit much). Then she turned her attention back to the panel. It held several regular-sized buttons and one large black one — oh wait, that was a hole.

 When Wio stuck her tentacle in to manipulate the grabbing arm, I quietly shook my head. Of course it’s that kind of arm, I thought as a mechanical tentacle uncurled into view outside. Why would I expect anything with fingers on a ship made by Strongarms? 

 Captain Sunlight finished talking to whoever was in the cargo bay, and gave Wio the go-ahead. I watched the main screen as the grabber lined up carefully with the spinning mass of rock and metal, then gave it a calculated whack. A piece broke off and it stopped spinning.

 Wio peered at a readout. “Nonvaluable mineral,” she said. “I’ll just get the big part.”

 “How big is it?” I asked belatedly, not sure of the grabber’s size for reference. One of the screens probably said.

 “Small enough to fit!” Wio said. With a look of intense concentration (and several tentacles fidgeting behind her), she wrapped the metal grabbing arm around the asteroid and pulled it in.

 “I’m off to the cargo bay,” announced Captain Sunlight. “Keep it nice and gentle.”

 “Will do. No explosions of dirt on the floor if I can help it.”

 Captain Sunlight nodded, even though Wio was watching the screen, and she left. I looked between the two.

 “I’m going to see if I can help,” I said, getting up.

 “Sure thing. I’ll watch from here.” Wio gestured with another tentacle at a small screen on the side that had a great view of the cargo bay. Several crewmembers were waiting by the airlock.

 I hurried down the hall on my long human legs. I wanted to see what this thing was. Maybe it was important, or valuable, or both. Probably not, but who knew?

 When I got there, the airlock was already closed again, and Eggskin was putting away their hand scanner. Blip and Blop each had a hand on the lumpy rock about the size of a two-person hoverbike. They seemed to be the designated “hold it in place” team, which they were good at, because of all the muscles. The goggles they wore and the pickaxes shoved in their waistbands said that might not be all they hoped to do.

 Eggskin said, “No trace of anything biological,” and moved to stand beside the captain. The two Heatseekers were a healthy distance from the rock, clearly to give the Frillian twins plenty of pickaxing room. I thought I could see a bit of metal among the lumps, but it was hard to make out. The rock looked like several pieces had clumped together around it. I couldn’t say whether they were stuck with glue, welding, or just gravity and time. A smattering of gravel had already fallen to make the floor treacherous.

 Blip and Blop seemed aware of that, since they moved their feet by sliding instead of stepping. At Eggskin’s declaration, the captain nodded a go-ahead, and the Frillians grabbed their pickaxes.

 A voice from behind me complained, “I was going to watch…”

 I turned to see Zhee retreating back into the hallway, all gaudy purple exoskeleton and disapproval.

 He continued, “But I think I’ll wait out here.”

 I asked, “Do you think the chips are going to—” then the first pickaxe hit with a thunderous clang, and I hustled out to join him. Captain Sunlight and Eggskin had also backed up further. I was pretty sure one or both of them were saying words of caution, but I couldn’t make it out for sure.

 Zhee clicked his pincher arms and angled his antennae in disapproval. He probably had opinions about the best way to disassemble the chunk of rocks and nonsense. Zhee always had opinions.

 A concerned voice from down the hall asked, “What’s happening?”

 I called back, “Salvage.”

 Paint trotted up, her expression worried and her mottled orange scales less shiny than the captain’s. I’d definitely have to ask about the polishing sometime. Maybe.

 “What kind of salvage?” she asked.

 I told her, “Rocks and metal.”

 Zhee said, “Loud and messy.”

 Before Paint could press for details, the axe noises were replaced by a minor avalanche of rocks etcetera collapsing onto the cargo bay floor. The silence afterward made me rub my ears.

 Paint looked around the corner, then dart forward. Zhee and I followed.

 The pickaxes were already set down in favor of hands for picking through the mess. Blip and Blop pulled out something long and angular, each grabbing a different end and having a split-second tug of war like two puppies with the same stick. Then they held it up for the captain together.

 “Got it!”

 “Look at this!”

 We all looked. It was dented gray metal, long with a couple of joints, and with wires dangling out the bigger end. Straightened out, it would have been a little taller than the Frillians.

 I asked the obvious question. “What is it? Broken antenna?”

 Blip rotated it, peering at the wires, then the bent sections. “I don’t think so. These parts seem supposed to move.”

 “Yeah, and this end’s serrated!” Blop said, pointing at the narrow end. “It’s almost like…” He grabbed the last two segments and wrenched them together. The metal screeched. The serrations fit together perfectly, in a startling imitation of Zhee’s pincher arms.

 We all looked at him.

 Zhee hissed quietly and angled his antenna into extreme displeasure. “Keep breaking,” he said.

 “What? Why?” I asked.

 Zhee pointed a pincher. “It is old enough to be ugly. An embarrassment to Mesmers everywhere.”

 A few careful questions and one angry rant later, it became clear that this Mesmer at least was certain that every one of his species would be personally offended by the sight of this relic’s lack of vibrant colors and/or gemstone decorations.

 No, it hadn’t lost its decorations; there were no sockets for gems. No, it hadn’t lost its paint; there were no traces, and paint was only for utter peasants who couldn’t anodize metal.

 “Ask Trrili,” Zhee challenged. “She’s from a different moon entirely.”

 Captain Sunlight quietly called Trrili to the cargo bay to give her opinion on something unspecified. Trrili arrived in a storm of shiny black and blood-red, taller than Zhee and curious why she’d been summoned. She caught sight of the relic.

 “Throw that out the airlock immediately,” Trrili hissed.

 Zhee said, “I suggested they break it.”

 “That’s good too.”

 I said, “I can’t believe no Mesmer ever would want to keep this for historical value, if it’s as old as all that. It’s a ship’s grabber arm, right? It might have broken off in some historical battle or something! It could be incredibly important!”

 They said, “It’s not,” in perfect unison.

 Wio’s voice came over the loudspeaker from where she’d been watching on the cameras. “There’s a Mesmer colony not far from here. Public info says it’s relatively new, so not the one that lost that, but it would take some detailed math and a huge map to track how far it could have drifted in that many centuries anyway. It can’t hurt to ask them if they want it for a museum, right?”

 Zhee said that would be deeply embarrassing to even ask.

 Trrili wanted nothing to do with it.

 Captain Sunlight decided it was worth a shot.

 Both Mesmers stalked out of the cargo bay with loud declarations that they would be on the other side of the ship, and not to bother them until the shame was done with.

 The captain asked Blip and Blop to clean the thing up as best they could. Paint volunteered to help, and ran to get brushes.

 I asked permission to be in the cockpit during the phone call. Surely that opinion couldn’t be universal. Surely.

 Or, I learned soon after, maybe it could.

 “A what?” asked the local authority, a pink-and-blue Mesmer with glittering chips of crystal forming intricate whorls on her exoskeleton. “I don’t think I heard you correctly.”

 Captain Sunlight addressed the screen with dignity. “A historical artifact of Mesmer design. It appears to be a mechanical version of your glorious blade-arms, made of gray metal.”

 “That’s disappointing,” the authority said with a flick of both antennae. “Kindly throw it into the nearest sun.”

 I blurted, “What?”

 Captain Sunlight gave me a look, but didn’t say to be quiet. I took that as permission to keep talking.

 “But this is part of your history! A record of how you got where you are!”

 “Ah, a human,” the Mesmer said with a sigh. “Tell me, when your offspring commit an act of art for the first time, you are proud, yes? And so are they, for a while? You might even put it on display. But then they grow up and never want to see it again out of shame? This does not deserve a place on the fridge. Into the sun it goes.”

 Nothing I could say would sway that decision, not that Captain Sunlight let me try for long. She turned the conversation to business, and ended up convincing the Mesmer authority to pay us a small fee for the inconvenience of going out of our way. (We were on official courier business, after all, and time was money.) (Yes, people say that even in space. The Mesmer didn’t bat an antennae at it.)

 The final agreement also included an escort ship, partly to make sure we really did get rid of the thing, and partly to help us do so. It had a tractor beam thingy that could be set in reverse to punt things across the starfield. Very handy for launching artifacts into the sun. No, I didn’t ask what they normally used it for. That kind of tech could easily have been an accidental discovery, and I wasn’t about to bring up any other possible sources of cultural embarrassment.

 But I was going to quietly give my respects to the ancient bit of machinery before it was atomized. I stood in the cleaned-up cargo hold next to the unassuming piece of dull, dented metal. Crouching, I ran my fingers over it, committing the feel to memory: from the torn wires to the crooked serrations. A couple of those little teeth were bent. I’d never know what bent them.

 Loud conversation approached, and my crewmates entered the room, bustling around to prepare. I stepped back as the captain arrived, and I took up a position by the door. I had a good view of the airlock from there.

 As Blip and Blop in their exo suits hefted it to throw, as Wio angled the ship to get us in line with the escort, as Captain Sunlight gave the command and the relic was launched toward the distant sun, I silently gave my respects. I sent mental appreciation to the ages-ago Mesmers who had made it.

 Great job, you guys. You must have been SO proud. 

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[bakugoushotwife]

hi! how are you? soo i was innocently skimming around and saw you are accepting requests so….hear me out. Kakashi and hi s/o tiredly having some sleepy fluff smut with him towering over with lots of love

a/n: such a good fucking request i love u and wanna kiss /p ! i hope you like this nonnie :)

cw: fingering (fem receiving), penetrative sex, showering together but no shower sex, pet names, creampie. MINORS DNI. MATURE 18 +

wc: 3k

Care // Kakashi x fem!reader

You blink slowly up at the ceiling, eyelids still heavy with sleep. The sound of the door creaking open and a weighty bag hitting the ground was enough to wake you, a former shinobi and forever light sleeper. It was still dark out, so you knew it had to be really late or really early, but nonetheless you were happy he was home. You lean over and click the lamp on, smiling when you’re greeted with the sight of your husband’s face. 

“Sorry love, did I wake you?” Kakashi asks apologetically, giving you a tired smile after he slides his facemask down around his neck. 

You hum and nod. “I’m glad though, you know I would want to welcome you home anyway.” You yawn, turning to lay on your side as you watch him remove his soiled mission clothes, always taking the extra time to put them in the dirty clothes hamper. He was definitely worn from this one, you could tell. He had purple bags under his eyes and his movements were sluggish. He sighed deeply, still toting his sleepy grin. 

“Give me ten minutes and you can welcome me all you want. Need to shower.” He sighs, clearly operating on auto-pilot. He’s grabbing fresh clothes to sleep in, and you frown at his exhaustion. You peel back the covers and sit up, raking your hands over your face in an effort to wake up a little.  Your legs dangle over the bed, and you scoot your way off.

“I’ll come with you, I think you could use some assistance.” You chuckle softly, the room was still dim, only the bed basking in the glow of your lamplight. He watched you get to your feet, smiling softly at your love for him. He still wonders what he did to deserve someone like you keeping his home bright and full of happiness, warming his bed and missing him every time he left. He’s grateful to be home, safely back in your presence and undeniable gentleness. He hums in acknowledgement of your joining him, digging around for some clothes for you too. 

You go ahead of him, sluggishly turning on the hot water. The sound of the water rushing against the tub made your eyes momentarily close, too relaxing and sleep-inducing to fight back. Yet you manage, shaking your head and consciously opening your eyes wider. Kakashi comes into the bathroom seconds later, setting your clothes on the counter. He grabs a towel and you finally pull the knob to make the faucet water spray out from the shower head. He has that same sleepy look on his face, eyelids drooping three-fourths of the way over his mismatched eyes, the corners of his lips just upturned into a lazy smile. As tired as he is, his eyes do sparkle when he looks at you, helping you out of the garments you wore to bed. 

The sight of your barren body stirs a little life into him, having missed the sight for nearly two weeks on his latest trip away. He takes his last layer off, sliding into the shower and looking at you expectantly. The hot water makes him sigh, eyes fluttering closed while the warmth spreads through his muscles. He stretches his neck out to either side, nearly moaning at how good it feels. He feels you slide in front of him, his hands blindly finding your waist. The water rolls down his face, turning his gray hair a few shades darker and slicking it to his forehead. He smiles warmly at you, leaning forward out of the direct stream. His hands and arms slide more up your back, pressing you to his wet frame. He’s trying to warm you up too, gently rotating your bodies so you could get your fair share of the water. You stay facing him, watching the water droplets form on his scarred chest and toned abdomen. No matter how tired you were, you would never pass up the opportunity to admire him. Your eyes trail lower, feeling almost embarrassed when you look at his soft length hanging between his legs, instead you glance over his muscular thighs and the dark hair covering them. He chuckles under your gaze, not sharing the embarrassment after years of being married. He wasn’t shy about staring at you either, that would never embarrass him. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from your frame even as he leaned over to grab his shampoo, knowing exactly where it stood on the side of the tub. He smirks. Even though it was lazy, it still makes your stomach flutter like always. You roll your eyes and reach your arm out for the shampoo. He arches his brow at you in confusion, you have your own. You make a grabby hand for it when he doesn’t move. 

“Let me.” You huff, grabbing the bottle from his hands. He sighed, bending his knees slightly so you could reach his head, admiring your dedication to him. His loving eyes took in all the features of his favorite face, and you feel your body warm under his affectionate stare. You squeeze some shampoo out and lather it in your hands, getting up on your tip-toes to apply the soap to his hair. Your fingers scrape and scratch all the right spots on his scalp, making his eyes close yet again. He knows that no one could ever love him as perfectly as you do, only you would drag yourself to shower with him in the earliest hours of the morning. Only you would insist on washing his hair for him, bordering on cranky if he denied your wish. 

“I love you and I missed you s’much.” He mumbles in his half-asleep state. You gently pull his body towards the water, grinning softly at him. 

“I love you too. Worst two weeks of my life.” You chuckle, watching him stand motionlessly under the shower head, letting the bubbles and foam slip down his body and down the drain. You grab your own shampoo and give yourself the same treatment, your husband knowingly sliding out of your way to let you rinse. 

“Am I allowed to condition myself or shall I wait?” He asks teasingly, taking his time to watch your careful fingers work the shampoo out of your own hair. He hums happily at your scrunched up nose, no doubt annoyed by his taunts. 

“Go ahead, sassy.” You huff, cracking an eye open to peek at his amused grin. You smile too, just relieved to have him home again. It wasn’t that you doubted his skills as a shinobi, and an especially revered one at that, it’s just…no one plans to die on missions, you know that. He isn’t immortal, and you feared the day where Leaf officials knocked on your door instead of Kakashi’s sleepy stride into the bedroom after weeks away. Every time he came home felt like another safe breath you got to take, even when you huff at him in the shower because of his reluctance to let you take care of him. 

He chuckles again, somehow cheerful and exhausted sounding. He watches you condition your hair with slow and tired movements, once again appreciating the tender way you care for him. He decided to return the favor, lathering your soap in a cloth and humming for your permission. You nod, a slight smirk playing on your lips. These were times you cherished. The night felt so surreal, like you two were the only people on Earth. Maybe it was a lack of sleep delirium, maybe it was just the obsessive way you two loved, or some combination of the two. He steps forward and takes your palm in his, gently scrubbing your skin. His thumb strokes the back of your hand and he starts humming some tune. 

His voice is warm and calming, his face much more relaxed but still as weary as before. His eyes glimmer with his adoration for you, his other hand coming to rest on your hip. You analyze his features, wondering if anything of note had happened on this excursion. Your thoughts don’t linger there long, your husband was too attractive to ignore. You hum as his gentle touches move to your other arm and then your chest, eyeing him daringly. Kakashi’s humming changes from his old tune to a curious question. He washes your breasts slowly, struggling to conceal the faint blush on his exposed cheeks. 

You just grin, humming your approval. Kakashi can tell from the way you sway your body and arch your brow at him that you want him, and he’s never been able to say no to his wife. Feeling your soft skin under his hands, weighty and full, makes the blood rush to his dick. You giggle quietly, watching his already impressive manhood stand at attention for you. 

“I’m thinking we need to wrap this up…wouldn’t want the water getting cold on us, now would we, love?” He hums, handing you the cloth in favor of retrieving his own to cleanse himself, all in an effort to hurry. 

“I agree, dear husband..” You grin, finishing what he started, scrubbing the rest of your body with a fervor. Your body tingles with excitement, not having him to satiate your cravings for the past couple of weeks is torture as always. Your fingers could only do so much when you had Kakashi-sized holes to fill. 

He’s quick with his body washing too, his tiredness taking the backseat to his love for his partner. He knows he won’t be able to go too wild tonight, though he knows you won’t mind. He just needed to demonstrate his love for you too. Just like you were never too tired to care for him, he would never be too tired to take care of you. 

You raced to rinse off, drying off and handing the towel to your lover once finished. He smirks when you skip off to the bed without the clothes he so carefully curated for you in his half-asleep state. He decides to do the same, just draping the towel around his waist. It didn’t do much to conceal his erection, but Kakashi was modest. By the time he gets to the bed, you are already tucked under the covers, eagerly squirming as you wait for him on the furthest edge of the bed. You bite your lip, savoring his god-like body. The towel did nothing but drive you crazy; he still had some water beading down his skin, deep v lines around his hips and a dark patch of hair making you wish he hadn’t bothered covering up.

“Now love, I am still tired.” He chuckles, throwing the blankets off and relishing your sleepy giggles as he eyes your naked frame. His eyes crinkle up when he smiles, the biggest one of the night. This is why he married you, as wiped out as he is, as grueling as that mission was on him, here he was chuckling and smiling with you seconds before you make love. “So don’t be so shy and cute now.”

You hum and scoot toward him, his body coming down around you to cage in your own. He holds his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, features soft as he looks at you with all the love in the world. You admired how he always did this, not a day went by that you didn’t know how much he loves you. He practically worships the ground you walk on.  His lower body is nestled in between your legs, hip bones touching. He hums, just happy to be so close, to feel your warm breasts pressed against him and your contented heartbeat just thump thump thump-ing away in such a soothing rhythm it could be its own song. 

You match his hum, happy the lamp was on so you could see his eyes sparkle with tenderness and desire. His cheeks were just a little rosy and his pale lips were already parted in preparation for a kiss. You lean up to oblige, angling your head just right. Both of you sigh, his weight relaxing on you just a little more. He always kisses you like he’ll never get the chance to again, his mouth heavily pressed to yours. His lips were soft, pulling back just enough to separate before crashing into you again over and over, creating a string of short and needy kisses. He shifts his weight mostly to his left side, though it’s not uncomfortable for him to lay on you. In fact, you’re thankful for the pressure against your burning middle. You’re not shy from rocking your hips up into him, giving your nerves a little relief. His right hand moves down your body, squeezing your breast and gently playing with the nipple. His fingers were slender and long, rolling your pebbled bud in between them. He can’t resist the urge he gets to tear his mouth away from yours in favor of scooting his body down to access the hardened nipple. His newly freed hand slides down your searing skin to relieve those rocking hips of yours, your mewling was incessant. You gasp at the feeling of his tongue swirling about your sensitive areola, fingers sliding around your lips to gather your arousal. 

Kakashi draws circles around your clit, his own hips rutting into the sheets beneath him. He can’t help but gently nibble on the hard nipple in his mouth, looking up at you tentatively to watch you writhe in pleasure. His fingers know just how to work you, helplessly wet for him after just the simple touch. The butterflies in your stomach were getting more intense, and you bucked into his hand to signify this need. He chuckles, swapping to your neglected nipple. He was satisfied with the way your other bud shines with his spit, red from his attention. Just to appease you because he is nothing if not a giving lover, he slips two of those long fingers inside your tight hole, eyelids fluttering shut when you clench down around his digits. You make such a pretty noise, the whisper of his name combined with a gorgeous moan, he can’t help but release your chest so he could drink up all your lewd singing. His mouth covers yours needily, his fingers curling inside and making languid strokes at your spot. Your lips vibrate against his, unable to stop moaning and whimpering. It’s a miracle he can go on missions at all, knowing he has to swear off of this for an undetermined amount of time. Though he can’t deny the motivation to get back home as quickly as possible so he can bury his fingers in your silky cunt, swallowing up all your noises while you fuck yourself on him. 

He knows you’re seconds from your release, so he pulls his fingers out and rubs your clit with his soaked digits. Your body feels like it’s on fire, eyes screwed shut as your stomach lurches, the familiar sensation making your legs tremble. His pace on your sensitive bundle slows, his kisses becoming softer as he applies them to your jaw and neck, positioning himself back over you. His aching cock weeped for you, the tip spreading your lips easily. You’re so used to the weight of him sinking into you, but you moan at the stretch every time. He holds your hips for a moment, strokes gentle and slow just so you could get used to the feeling and he could relish your warm walls suffocating him. It was so hard not to come instantly, even as experienced as the two of you were together. The feeling never got old, nor got any easier to resist. He falls forward a little, bracing himself on the headboard. 

“Beautiful girl, you always take it so good..” He muses, sleepy face looking down at you as his pacing gradually increases. You can feel his every ridge and vein, his cock made just for your insides. It makes your eyes roll closed and your mouth fall open, sure you could fall asleep just like this. The only thing keeping you awake is the sound of your own breathy moans and Kakashi’s grunts, plus the subtle noise of his balls slapping up against the globe of your ass. 

“Thank you lover, always give it so good.” You mumble back, purposefully choking down on him. He moans, just as you wanted. You smile in satisfaction, forcing your eyes open to enjoy the view of him pushing his shaggy hair back and moving your leg to wrap around his hip. It deepens his connection to you, letting him slam up against the spot that leaves you breathless. He can feel the resistance against him, groaning determinedly. He had to have you come before him, so he ups the ante with his sweet words being whispered into the early morning air. 

“I love you so much, darling.” He rasps, chest heaving. “I always miss you so horribly on these trips, I work extra hard to get back to you.” He says, his voice light with emotion. His affections combined with his caring assault on your womb makes you come undone again, signified by your broken moan and walls spasming around him. He’s truly grateful, only moments away from his own high. He loved the way you look, mouth open and eyebrows knit in pleasure. Your pretty cheeks get rosier with every thrust after your orgasm, your hands needily reaching out for him. “You’re gonna make me come in you, lover.” He whimpered slightly, waiting for your reply, though he’s been coming in you since your wedding night. 

You nod dumbly, a happy grin displayed on your face. Your hands can only reach his toned stomach, fingers resting in the divots of his abs. You can feel his stomach tighten, his pretty gasp preceding the rush of warmth filling you to the brim. 

The room is just heavy pants and heaving chests, and both of you wonder if the other has fallen asleep like this. Kakashi leans down and presses his lips to your forehead, holding your face in his hands. 

“I’ll get you cleaned up, you know I’ll always take care of you.” He hums, kissing the tip of your nose and then finally, a sweet kiss to your lips.

[obsidianimagines]

All of Time and Space

After a would-be alien invasion, The Doctor offers you the opportunity to travel with him in the TARDIS.

Ten × gn!reader

Warnings: None

"This is supposed to be a spaceship?" With a raised eyebrow, you looked away from the blue box and back to the pinstripe suited man—The Doctor, he'd called himself—his hands shoved in the pockets of his trousers. "It's just an old Police Box."

"Well, looks can be deceiving, can't they?" The Doctor headed towards the box once again, taking your hand to bring you along.

He'd been doing that on and off for the last few hours, holding on tight as the two of you ran from the strange aliens that had apparently infiltrated your workplace. You helped The Doctor send them back to where they came from, only for him to give you an enticing offer.

"You and me. All of time and space. What do you say?"

Even after what you'd witnessed that day, seeing more than just your little corner of planet Earth still seemed far-fetched. But something in The Doctor's eyes told you that you could trust him with your life without knowing him for more than a single afternoon.

You shook the thought away just as the two of you reached the door, and he pushed it open for you, nodding his head towards the inside. "Go on then, give her a look."

Seeing the blue box made you start to rethink that a little bit. Sure, he'd stopped an alien invasion like it was something he dealt with every day, but what if he was just some madman? And even if the box really could travel through time and space, how could the two of you fit in the thing? The Doctor was quite slim, yes, but the idea of being in such close quarters with him...

Hesitantly, you let go of him as you stepped in.

Instead of a dark, cramped box, you found a warmly lit room. The walls were covered in a hexagonal pattern, and it had what looked like curvy support beams spaced around it. In the center of it all sat a console, litered with various knobs and buttons and screens.

And the sound...almost like the ship had a heartbeat.

You didn't even notice that The Doctor had already ran past you and to the console, tossing his trench coat onto the padded railing. He flipped a switch, watching as you took in your surroundings. There was something he enjoyed about seeing others be awestruck at the sight of his beloved TARDIS.

Unsurprisingly, the first thing you said was, "It's...it's bigger on the inside."

"It's called the TARDIS. Time and Relative Dimension in Space." The Doctor leaned on the edge of the console, his hands resting on either side of him as he looked at you expectantly. "Fancy a trip?"

You walked towards him, still looking at the room and wondering if you were dreaming. "You said 'all of time and space'..." Stopping in front of him, you smiled. "How could I not?"

The Doctor grinned and, in an instant, began pushing buttons and flipping even more switches. "The question is...past or future?"

"Future," you said without a thought. "Show me something amazing."

"Coming right up!" The Doctor stopped running around the console to pull a lever, and the TARDIS began to make a strange grinding noise. You found yourself glad for the railing as the ship's movements threw you around a bit. The Doctor seemed unfazed by that, continuing to pilot the ship.

Finally, the TARDIS came to a stop, and you were able to let go.

"Sorry about that," The Doctor said, already moving towards the exit. "Her navigation system can be a bit tricky."

"A warning might have been nice." You jogged to catch up to him, stopping in front of the doors.

The Doctor looked over at you with a smile, "Ready to see the future?"

When he opened the door, your first thought was that it was most definitely not Earth, evidenced by the twin suns in the sky. The buildings looked almost to be made of pure gold, all shining bright where the sun hit them. Dreaming felt like even more of a possibility at the sight of a place so beautiful. "Something amazing: check."

Before The Doctor could say that it wasn't where he meant to bring you, you grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the ship. "What are we waiting for? Let's look around!"

"So..." you began, catching your breath as you slumped down in the chair that you had neglected to notice on your first flight a few hours earlier. The Doctor had just landed the TARDIS somewhere else, but you hadn't asked about that yet. "Do your trips usually end with trouble?"

He leaned against the railing, not quite as worn out as you were after all that running. It wasn't his first rodeo with killer robots. "More or less. Mostly more." He looked down at you with an eyebrow quirked. "Why? Have you changed your mind?"

"No way." You eagerly stood up next to him. "What's next?"

The Doctor didn't hesitate to return to the console and whisk you away again.

[ozarkthedog]

Hi Ozzie!! Congrats on 11k ❤️

Can I request 📝 & public no. 6 (a quickie in a diner restroom before getting back on the road), with Dieter?? 🥰

thank you so much, Gideon! idk what happened but i took this and ran. hope you love this, my dude!

18+ mdni. dieter bravo x f!reader. sex in a public bathroom. w.c. 783

Ozzie’s 11k birthday sleepover

It was supposed to be a quick stop: fuel up, grab a bite, and get back on the road. However, you knew to expect a blip in your plans when Dieter was your co-pilot. 

Today, though, the blip turned into 35 minutes behind schedule because someone wanted to play an old arcade game the owners had set up in the back of the small diner. 

You let Dieter have his fun while you drank your coffee and went over your route once more. He looked so cute playing the arcade game in his long, green robe. You never could part that man from his robe. "I like to be comfy at all times," you recall him saying when he sunk into the passenger seat at the beginning of your trip. 

When you couldn't waste any more time, you gave him a '5 more minutes' signal as you made your way to the bathroom.

The bathroom was what you expect in a local diner. Small but relatively clean, thankfully. As you finish washing your hands, Dieter frantically knocks on the door.

"Let me in," he whines.

He's already turning the knob as you unlock it. He shuts the door quickly and slithers into the tiny space. Your ass bumps into the sink as you make room for the broad man.

"What's wrong?" you ask, worry framing your words.

"Nothing. Just missed you." he smiles, pinching your chin between his thumb and forefinger.

"Dieter! You can't worry me like that." you chastised, poking his chest.

He plasters his thick body against your own, pushing you further into the porcelain sink. "Sorry, love. I just thought we could have a quick fuck before we got back in the car." he muses, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips.

You roll your eyes, but they stop mid-way when he rubs his large bulge over your belly. "Shit, D." you look at the door and then back to those wild, wanting eyes. 

He wraps his arms around your waist and tips his head, looking at you under his lashes. "You know how quick I can be."

You huff with a laugh. "Okay, Mr. Quickie. Let's go," you happily prompt.

"Oh, that means you're Mrs. Quickie! " he muses, laughing until his cheer is struck down. His eyes zero in on your lower half as you hike up your skirt and tug your panties to the side.

"Well, what are you waiting for." you dare, propping your leg on the window sill and wrapping your hands around his neck for support.

Dieter goes a bit dumb when you and sex are involved. He usually relies on you to tell him what to do. The second you snap your command, he shoves his sleep pants down to his knees and takes his cock in his hand. 

He teases your already slick opening with his throbbing crown before slowly pushing into your searing core. He doesn't stop until he's buried to the hilt, and his girthy base nudges your clit. He bites the side of his cheek, wantonly moaning into the small space as your walls stretch around him. 

Your "magic pussy" as he likes to call it, is already working, teasing and tempting him to fill you up.

"Best be quiet, D. We don't need anyone interrupting us," you say, combing your fingers through his hair and slightly tugging.

A whimper bubbles up from his throat. You press a single finger to his pouted lips before branding him with a kiss. He sets a steady pace, angling his hips just right and grazing all those sensitive spots he knows that get you off the fastest.

His bulbous crown notches something profound and devastating, forcing your arousal to rise steadily until you're drowning in the salacious rapture. His brow pinches tight, furrowing with a heavy need to stave off his own pleasure until he feels you come on his cock.  

His bottom lip trembles. With a silent command, you thumb at the plush cushion and plummet off the edge together, holding one another's gaze. Hushed whimpers and labored breathing fill the room as you melt into one. 

You exit the bathroom first, praying that no one will notice Dieter leaving the tiny bathroom a few moments after you. You keep your eyes locked on the floor as you make a beeline for the main entry, casually looking over your shoulder to ensure Dieter is tailing you. 

He curls a weighty arm around your shoulder, tugging you into his side as you push through the glass doors and walk out to your car together. 

"You know we're gonna have to make this a road trip ritual now, right?" he grins.

Ozzie’s 11k birthday sleepover

[heghogsblog]

хелло мои the best люди на планете земля! кстати говоря о планете, вчера побывал в одном интересном месте города Остин, на месте потухшего вулкана, который называется “Pilot Knob”. зрелище конечно потрясающее. но ещё больше , то волнующее чувство когда ты стоишь на этой вулканической поверхности, ступаешь по ней своими ногами, видишь эти выбоины и разломы. эти чувства трудно передать словами. когда то в давние времена, говорят примерно миллионов 80 назад, вся эта земля находилась под водой. а потом случилось извержение вулкана, со всеми сопутствующими вещами, выбросом лавы и пепла, и эта раскаленная жижа смешиваясь с водой вытеснила, слепила из этого вулканического клея, сформировала, то , что мы видим сейчас.

[mitchellpete]

Kinktober Day 12 - Voyeurism

pairing: tom “iceman” kazansky x f!reader (x pete “maverick” mitchell)

cw: penetrative sex, voyeurism, could count as cucking?, brief icemav implications but if you squint you can ignore it

word count: 1386

kinktober masterlist here.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

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Maverick immediately knows what’s going on the moment he steps through the door, the noises loud and clear. His brows immediately knit together in confusion, in surprise, at the absurdity of the situation. The front door to your house had been unlocked, for starters, and you’re somewhere inside, and he can hear you moaning and what sounds like shit being knocked around. 

A scowl meets Maverick’s knitted brows as he shuts the door and immediately makes his way down the hallway. 

He doesn’t know what he’s doing; he’s certainly not gonna barge in and ruin your fun but Christ, is there any indication on who you’re with right now? He needs to know. And maybe he suddenly regrets everything you promised one another—that you wouldn’t catch feelings, that this fling wouldn’t last past his time at Top Gun—but maybe he actually did like you, and you just ruined it all the moment his hand turned the knob to your door. 

Maverick gets closer to the noises, a mixture of panic and intrigue seeping through him when he realizes the door is cracked open. Just enough that when he reaches the frame, he sees you. 

You’re laying on your side, a big body behind you, long strong legs and a sharp snap of hips meeting yours. An arm around your torso. A hand propping your leg up for easier thrusts, a blue Academy ring tauntingly sparkling at him.

And then his eyes catch the head of spiky blonde.

For fuck’s sake. 

For a moment, Maverick is almost blinded with anger. His heart stoops down to his feet and all he can think of is betrayal. How sick you are for doing this to him. 

You’d been fucking each other for weeks. Had made a comfortable situation out of it, and came to terms with the fact that it probably wouldn't last. But Maverick was sort of on top of the world right now, getting to fly with his best friend, competing for the Top Gun trophy, being the best possible pilot he could be up there. Taking his chance to prove himself once and for all. And Maverick is always all or nothing, and if he knew that this would backfire on him, then he’d shoved it to the deepest corner in the back of his mind and chose to go through with it anyway just for the fun of it. And now he’s paying the price, and the promises he made you don’t mean anything anymore. How could you? Yeah, yeah, you’re not together, you’re not in love, you’re certainly not chained to one another, but why? 

Iceman of all people.

That’s gotta be a personal fucking vendetta you’ve got against him. 

God, and he really did like you..? By the way..? No matter how many times he told himself he didn’t..? Fuck that. He does. He did. He decided the moment he stepped inside your house. And now all of it is fucking soiled. 

He considers running out, slamming the front door for effect and mounting his Kawasaki and taking a long drive out of here. Giving you the silent treatment the next time he sees you. Maybe finally punching Iceman in the fucking face the second he hears that irritating voice sound out his name in the locker room, just before going on a tangent about aircraft safety and some other bullshit Maverick never pays attention to. 

But he does not move.

And he realizes a little too late how entranced he is at the sight in front of him.

Maverick’s eyes roam, but they settle right at the junction between your legs. His lips part at the sight of Ice’s cock ramming into you. You’re so wet, he can see it pooling with every slippery thrust. The sound of skin on skin brings a heat to Maverick’s cheeks, his own cock twitching in his pants. 

Your moans are loud and repetitive, cries of pleasure he’s heard many times before.

Iceman’s pace is relentless, quick and hard and perfect. Even in the shadows, Maverick is slightly intimidated. 

Maverick doesn’t avert his eyes, lets out a stifled groan at the feel of his hardening cock in his tight jeans. It all worsens when he hears Ice moan, the sound prettier than he’d like to admit. It stirs the desire in him, flushes his entire body in heat. What he would do to be in Ice’s position right now, fucking into you like his life depended on it, sliding in and out of that tight, wet heat over and over. He knows how good you look; he can imagine how good Ice feels fucking into you like this. 

As if on cue, “You like to watch, Mitchell?” that familiar voice sneers at Maverick from behind you. 

Maverick flinches, unintentionally takes a step back, but it’s no use. Ice is hovering over the side of your body, angling his hips to find a better spot. He’s got a shit eating smile on his face, staring right at Maverick, and it’s then that Maverick realizes. 

It wasn’t you. None of this was you. Did… did Iceman know? Did he leave the door open for Maverick to find? He fucking would. And Maverick would get angry again if he wasn’t so turned on out of his mind. 

You continue moaning, in a hazy state of bliss, but your eyes flick over to the doorframe at the sound of Ice’s voice. Maverick stands there, watching with a fiery gaze.

“M—Maverick,” you cry out, an arm absentmindedly reaching out in his direction. Your brows furrowed together, you hope he realizes you’re inviting him in; that just the sight of him almost has you keeling over and letting go. You want him in the room, but he doesn’t budge, remains in the shadows of the hallway, so you moan out again, “Please.”

Ice chuckles behind you, giddy. You’re amazed at how composed he is, how his thrusts haven’t even begun to falter. You’re so close to your orgasm, but he seems to be doing fine still. 

“P–Pete,” you gasp a third time, and then Ice hits a very sensitive spot inside you. “Oh, fuck, Ice!”

The heat of Ice’s body pressed to yours, his tight grip on your torso and the force of his thrusts are dizzying enough, but it’s even beyond that when the door creaks a little wider. Maverick hesitantly steps inside, though his eyes remain glued to you. Leaning against the wall right next to the door, he watches as Ice’s hand clasps around your breast, roughly kneading at it. 

“Knew you liked to watch,” Ice remarks, but he’s not looking at Maverick anymore. His eyelids are lidded in pleasure, lips parted as he nears his own orgasm.

Maverick’s stomach flips at Ice’s words, but he doesn’t respond. He focuses on you and how high pitched your moans sound, knows very well that that’s an indication that you’re cumming soon. 

“Ice,” you sob, your hand reaching for his and then clawing at the skin of it. “I’m gonna cum.”

Ice leans in to press his mouth to your ear, teeth lightly grazing the skin of it. “Cum for me, baby,” he rasps quietly. 

Mouthing at your neck, Ice’s eyes flick over to Maverick again, whose gaze has gotten wider. His entire face is painted crimson, eyes roaming at the sight in front of him, wanting every detail of your incoming release. Are you gonna cum for Ice the way you do for him? Let out that gorgeous sounding moan, long and lengthy when you start to shake? 

You do. 

Maverick bites his lip at the sight and sound, has to palm at his cock through his jeans to ease the ache a bit.

He watches intently as it takes Ice too, his thrusts finally sloppy, his body going slack next to yours. Ice groans out loud against your skin, his grip around your body loosening. 

The sensation breaks your haze, and you throw your head back against the mattress as it sinks in. Finally making eye contact with Maverick and his flushed face, you bite back a smile as you try to figure out how you’re gonna explain the situation to him. Maverick is wondering what he’s gonna do about his fucking hard on. Ice is just sliding out of you with a laugh.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐇𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐥𝐮𝐣𝐚𝐡

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon, corruption, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find a stranger at your door, a visitor you can't make leave. (Part of the Illuminate AU)

Characters: Yelena Belova

Note: I enjoyed this very much. I hope you do too.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

The bluster of winter wails outside the walls. The whistling wakes you, your eyes snapping open but the rest of you rousing slowly. Your muscles ache with the chill creeping up from the floorboards and through the aged plaster of the house. The smell of frost drifts in around the loose panes of the window, deterring you from emerging from the warmth of quilt and flannel.

At last, you find the strength to get up. You make the bed before you find your housecoat and tuck your feet into a pair of fleece-lined slippers. The house creaks around you as you open the door on whiny hinges. The single-floor holds several stories of memories; your own and others’.

You check the thermostat. It shouldn’t be so cold. You swear you can see your own breath. You shiver and rub your hands together as you enter the kitchen. You put the kettle on the burner and light it. You linger for a moment to bask in the warmth of the low flame of the gas stove.

You leave the kitchen, the click of the burner sticking in your head. You enter the back entryway of the house and pull open the old splintering door to the basement. The stares are steep and swathed in darkness, the wraiths of your childhood fears waiting at the bottom. 

You flip on the light switch and take your first step down the groaning wooden stairs. Each foot down feels like a descent into hell. You get to the bottom, even colder as no warmth can be found in the cement floors or painted brick walls. The old dryer and washer loom, the only sentinels in the cobwebbed space.

In the corner stands the rusted old furnace. You near with trepidation, shaking as you see the fog of your own breath waft out from your nose. The meter is limp and lifeless. As you near, you realise the old utility is silent.

You’ve had this problem before, it’s nothing new, just like everything else in this house. You go to the cabinet above the washer and dryer and take out the box of matches, checking to make sure they haven’t been dampened by their time in the mildewed basement. You return to the furnace and get down on your knees, close to the back. 

There you reach for the gas valve and give it a twist. You press down the red button and strike the match, putting it to the pilot light. You let go of the button and stand to turn the furnace back on. You hear the old barrel-like utility begin to hum.

You head back upstairs, the racket of the furnace building behind you, muffled as you shut the door behind you. As the handle clicks into place, you hear something closer, something louder. You pause and listen, hand resting on the cold metal knob. You fear it comes from where you just were but when it comes again, you realise the noise is from outside.

Before chasing your curiosity, you go back to the kitchen as you hear the kettle begin to quake. You move it off the burner before it can whistle and twist off the dial, the flame wilting to nothing. You shuffle into the back hall and near the back door, listening to the wind still whistling.

You hesitate to open the door, even as you’re certain it’s nothing. You look over at the old cross hung over the rack where you keep split logs for the fireplace. You slide back the lock and twist the handle, easing the swollen door from the frame.

As you pull the door inward, a weight pushes it against you. You step back and let it fall open completely, something collapsing by your feet. The shock blows over you with the winter gale, blustering in through the door. There, her head between your feet, is a woman smeared in dirt and something red. 

Her blond hair is filthy with dry mud and a stick is caught in a tangle. There are scratches on her face and neck, her clothing barely in tack as it exposed her raw and bloodied skin. You stare, uncertain of what to do. 

Any sane person would shove her back out in the cold and lock their door. But any decent person wouldn’t leave anyone out in that condition. You know her face, not as well as her reputation, but you do not doubt your eyes. 

You look out over the expanse of snow littered across the backyard. A touch of yellowed grass peeks through still as the winter has not yet made its full advance. It feels desolate and frigid even as you spy the top of the next house just above your fence. You can’t help but wonder how she ended up back there.

You bend, unsure of how to approach the woman. You fear waking her as much as you worry she may not be able to wake. You slip your hands under her shoulders, turning her flat and hooking your arms under hers. 

You haul her past the doorway, dragging her across the rough floorboards. You bend her legs as you go to close the door and stand facing it for just a moment as you process reality. You step back and over the woman, leaving her in the hallway as you try to decide what to do with her next.

It is just as Father Harvey read from the pages, ‘If anyone has material possessions and sees a brother or sister in need but has no pity on them, how can the love of God be in that person?’

You’re not sure you’ll be able to maneuver her further on your own, and you’re just as nervous of going near her again. The thought of a call to the cops crosses your mind but you know it’s futile when it comes to those ones.

You take the kettle off the stove and pull out a mug and some tea to steep. You ponder a second cup but it would probably be cold before she comes to. If she does.

You sit at the table, a glimpse of her dirty blonde hair visible through the doorway. You turn your attention to the window instead as you watch the snow start to fall. You could try to find her brothers or whoever they are. The other ones you don’t speak to.

As you contemplate your fate and the strange woman, you blow over your tea and take your first sip. A small comfort amid a very uncomfortable situation. You empty half the mug before setting it down, your stomach churning with anxiety.

You put your head in your hand and close your eyes. It could be a nightmare. You might wake up and find the house as you left it the night before.  You cradle your forehead, keeping your other hand against the warmth of your mug. You hear the vents start, a gush of heat blowing in from under the table as the house thrums.

You hear the clatter of the furnace kicking up. You look up to the thermostat but something else catches your eyes. The figure standing off-kilter in the doorway, watching you as you gape back in shock. Realising it was not the furnace making so much noise, but her.

She doesn’t say a word, instead letting her lips slant and dragging a limp leg over to the stove. Without looking back, she opens a cupboard and takes down a cup of her own, perusing the other wares within. She shuts it with a snap and scoffs, pushing her head back as she rubs her neck.

“Do you have any damn coffee in this shit hole?” She sneers as she drops her hand.

You blink dumbly, put off by her demanding tone and the presumption of her search through your cupboards. As she opens another, you get up and near her, pulling over the canister of coffee against the wall. You hold it up but she doesn’t take it.

You glance over at her bloodied, broken nails. You’re too polite, honestly too afraid, to ask what’s happened to her. Whatever it was, it hardly seems to faze her.

You turn to load the coffee machine, the small single serve you rarely use yourself. Not since the woman across the street disappeared. She used to come now and again for coffee when her husband worked. You always prayed for her and her husband, he wasn’t a nice man.

You shut the lid and tap the brew button. Your mind wanders to the burnt foundation of the neighbour’s house. They found his body but not hers. You hope she was still out there, somewhere, alive. More than a month though and even your faith threatens to falter.

The machine’s grind quiets and you back up, startled by the woman’s reach as she drags the mug off the drip tray. You press yourself to the adjacent counter and look at her. You slide open a drawer and grab a teaspoon, offering it to her.

“I have sugar–”

“Black is fine,” her eyes flash at the silver utensil as she lifts the cup. Her greenish bluish irises carry a tint of yellow, “put that away.”

Her harsh snap surprises you. You put the spoon back and close the drawer. She staggers back, balancing the cup over her uneven gait. She puts her coffee down before dropping into a chair, barely keeping it from turning over under her.

“Close these fucking curtains,” she demands as he bends her head and shields her eyes, “the sun’s always a bitch after the moon.”

Her words don’t make much sense. You obey and pull shut the curtains above the sink, closing out the winter sun. There’s no reason she should be so affected, the sun is trapped behind a pillow of cold clouds.

“Good girl,” she praises and takes a loud slurp. 

You spin to face her, crossing your arms as you watch her. Your hand wanders up to your throat but finds only the nook of your collar bone. You’ve left your necklace in your jewellery box. A habit you’ve rarely broken.

‘Do not judge, and you will not be judged. Do not condemn, and you will not be condemned. Forgive, and you will be forgiven. Give, and it will be given to you.’

You remind yourself of the passage as wariness nips at your mind. You do not know this woman, you only know what is said of her. And as the Lord bids, one may not judge without first first accepting judgment themselves.

“What happened to you?” You finally muster the question from the maelstrom of fear and shock.

Her thick brows rise and she tilts her head. She sits sideways in the chair and leans back to look down at herself. As she takes in the shredded flannel hanging from her figure, she lifts her hand to touch the twigs caught in her hair. She laughs, greatly amused as she smothers it with a swig of coffee.

She pops her lips and wipes them with her filthy hand, “well, looks like I had a good night.”

She smiles, her teeth eerily long and white. The expression fills you with unease. You clasp your hands together over your stomach.

“Well, I could run you a bath and you could take some of my clothes. I have a bag I was going to donate at the church–”

“Oh, you are a good girl,” she winks, “you go to church?”

You nod, “every Sunday. It’s an open service.”

“Ha,” she guffaws, “I appreciate the invitation but it isn’t for me. I like the Catholic girls more than the Catholic rites.”

You slowly part from the edge of the counter. She is crass in a way that makes you uncomfortable, in the same way as the drunken men who come out of the old bar on Tilbury. She has no shame or it seems, sense. She is as unbothered by her torn flesh as she is by her similarly shorn clothing.

“I’ll get the tub going. The pipes will take time to heat up–”

“Ah ah,” she tuts as you turn on your heel, “what kind of good Christian does not offer a name?”

You face her again. You didn’t realise. You didn’t think to give it, somehow, it felt like giving more than just that. As if you were handing over something precious. But she is here in your home and the Lord treasures gracious hosts. So you say your name, feeling it leave your tongue like a vow.

“Beautiful,” she praises, “I am Yelena, or whatever you like me to be.”

You have nothing to say to her last remark. You leave her to your coffee and forget about your tea. You’re certain it’s already cold as ice. You head down the hallway and let yourself into the bathroom. You turn on the light as you enter and cross the small patchwork of tile to the tub.

You pull back the curtain and bend over the brim to twist the four-pronged faucets. The water spills out and you splash it up the porcelain to rinse it off, turning off the flow to let it drain before starting it again. You put the stopper in place and push yourself straight.

You take a deep breath as you leave the building humidity in the bathroom and stop short as you find the woman, Yelena, just outside. She smirks at the cross stitch in its round frame, reaching to touch the embroidery; Rejoice in the Lord, the threaded cursive reads with the wreath of flowers.

“Quaint,” she muses as her eyes list over in your direction, “your husband must love you. Blessed be the meek and all that.”

You shake your head and look down at your left hand. If your mother was still around, she’d be certain to loudly proclaim your lack of suitors. The woman hums, taking the hint. She surprises you as she claps her hand on your arm.

“Who needs em? Men,” she scoffs, “trust me, they are…” she pauses, considering her next words carefully, “useless.”

She releases you and you step aside, pointing her into the bathroom. She enters, limping still. You notice how her foot drags, her leg entirely limp. You step forward, lingering at the threshold.

“The towel is clean,” you instruct, “and the hot water will probably run out by the halfway mark–” you voice catches as she strips away the remnants of her shirt. Shamelessly, she pulls down the strap of her bra, the other one snapped, and bares her chest, “oh, but uh, I’ll leave you–”

She snickers, “I am not ashamed of how the Lord made me, feel free to admire his work.”

You gasp and latch onto the doorknob. You swallow and quickly swing the door shut, clinging to it as you blink at the peeling paint. You look down at your hand, feeling as though you can’t let go. You see her body still, her pert tits and knowing smile stir your stomach cloyingly. A sinful sensation that tingles down your spine.

You snatch your hand back and nearly stumble into the wall. You must pray and cleanse yourself of these feelings. Let the Lord forgive you.

🌔

You dig out a pair of jeans and a wool sweater from the box, adding a pair of socks and underwear to the stack before scooping it up. You hug the clothing as you head down the hall, listening to the stir of water through the door. 

You clear your throat and place the pile on the square table set against the wall. You lean in, voice catching as you try to make the words come out. You feel as if you’re being choked.

“There are clothes out here for you,” you call through at last.

“Mm,” you can hear her sultry hum, “thank you, sweet one.”

You back away, retracting as if scalded. You shudder and continue on to the kitchen. You take the mugs from the table and go to the sink to wash them. The house is still cold though the furnace has softened the nip in the air.

You dry off both cups and put them back in the cupboard. You empty out the filter in the coffee machine and push the canister of grinds back against the wall. Restlessly, you pace, contemplating what comes next. It is unkind to ask a guest to leave but you must. There’s something festering about this woman being in your home.

You should’ve left her in the cold. The thought brings you to a halt and you’re mortified by your own cruelty. You shake your head and trace a cross through the air with your fingers; forgive me, lord.

You go into the living room and sit on the couch, teetering on the edge as you lean forward, elbows on your knees and hands clamped together. You press your lips to your knuckles and close your eyes. 

A silty fatigue grits under your eyelids. You are suddenly very tired. You’re still hoping this is just a dream.

“Ah, there you are,” Yelena’s voice brings your head up, your head swelling dizzily.

You look over your shoulder as she struts across the room. She wears only the wool sweater, her legs naked as the hem hovers tenuously just below her pelvis. You gulp as you watch her, stunned by her speedy and complete recovery.

The cuts across her neck and face are gone, her legs show no blemish or scar, and she walks unimpeded. Her blond hair is damp but shiny, and her cheeks are rosy and full. You’ve never seen anyone look so enthralling.

“I feel much better, darling,” she declares as she combs her fingers through her hair, the sweater rising up her thighs, “oh, but you look less than… what is the matter, sweet one?”

“N-nothing,” you go to stand but she’s quick to meet you, blocking you as she stands before you, putting a hand out to keep you at bay, “I…” you gulp, your mouth dry and pasty, “I was going to make breakfast. Are you hungry?”

She looks down at you and turns her hand to cradle your chin, “I am ravenous.”

You stare up at her, hypnotised by the heat of her touch and the yellow flecks seeming to glow in her irises. She slips her hand down to your neck and leans her weight into you, urging you to sit back. You let her, trembling as your body surrenders against your will.

She brings herself down to her knees, moving to insert herself between hers. Her hand crawls down and she hisses as she clutches the silver cross hung around your neck. He yanks and snaps the chain, bringing a yelp from your lips. She flings it away and shows how the pendant left its shape burnt into her palm. You gape as her skin slowly fades back to normal.

“What…” you breathe.

“Shhh,” she presses her finger to your lips, “I will not hurt you. The moon has gone and my hunger has changed.”

Your eyes round as you squirm. Lord, give me strength. 

Her hand falls again and she gropes you through the cotton of your sweatshirt. You murmur as she squeezes and you feel it pluck deep down inside of you. You look down at her hand as she fondles you, her other creeping up to raise the bottom of your shirt.

Your mind screams for you to stop her. You know you should, you know what she’s doing is wrong, but you can’t. It’s as if your body is no longer your own. As if she’s possessed you with her touch alone.

She rolls your shirt above your chest, peeling down the cubs of your wireless bra as she leans forward. A glaze of shock paralyses you as you watch her press her lips to the curve of your tit. He kisses the flesh, teasing it with her tongue, then her teeth, nipping so you squeak.

“Delicious,” she purrs, as her thumb twirls around your hardened nipple.

Your hands ball against the cushion, the most you can muster as your muscles lock up. She keeps one hand on your chest as she trails down your stomach with her mouth. She dotes on your soft belly, her other hand edging around as she guides your hips forward. Her fingers curl around the top of your pants.

Her other hand brushes around your ribs and down your back. She grips the elastic of your pants, guiding them down, tugging them under your ass as she jolts your body. You groan as she pulls both underwear and pants down your thighs in a single swoop. 

A crack forms in your trance and you bring your hands together to shield your nakedness. You hid your cunt behind as she strips the fabric past your ankles. She tuts and lays a kiss along your calf. She makes a path up to your knee, then switches legs, kissing along your quivering thigh.

“Don’t be shy,” she growls, “the lord gives us all a purpose. He would not make anything so beautiful if he did not mean it to be admired.”

She leans back and reaches behind her hand. She tugs the sweater up over her head, disposing it on the floor as she presents herself to you. Naked and built like a statue, muscle hewn perfectly.

She pulls your hands away from your pelvis and leers between your legs. She pushes your hands down beside you and drags her own down your thighs. She lifts your legs, one at a time, opening you to her.

She bends as you shake, detached from your mortal shell as he bows her head over your lap. She reaches up grazing over your chest and to your neck. She stretches her hand across your throat and holds you in place as she pokes her cool tongue against your slick heat.

You’re just as surprised at the mingling of hot and cold as you are by your own arousal. She laps you up eagerly as your body responds, falling apart in an instant. You moan through your tight throat, wrapping your fingers around her wrist as you drop your head back. Your voice gristles out as you tilt your hips in welcome.

The scald of your repentance fades into that of your delight. Her tongue delves between your folds, dissembling you with each slow swipe, each swirl around your tender bud. Her fingertips tickle along your thigh, edging the crease of your pelvis and dipping down to your entrance. She prods, wiggling just inside as she eases into you little by little.

You gasp and gulp, rocking your hips in time with her. You can hear how much you want her, you can feel it flooding from you, dripping down her hand and spreading on her tongue. She buries her face against you as she devours you, urging you on as she builds her pace, jamming her fingers deeper and deeper.

You reach down without thinking and latch onto her head. You push her down, smothering her face in your cunt as you rut against her face. You feel the swell crest and your body quakes as the tension shatters and sweeps over you. Your orgasm gushes out around her fingers as your voice fizzles to a creaky whine.

She feels along your hand, carefully drawing it away as she raises her head. Her chin drips with your juices as she snickers, baring her wolfish teeth. Her eyes glimmer as she slips her fingers out of you. You squirm with the sudden emptiness.

She grabs the backs of your calves suddenly and stands, pulling you so you slip down, your shoulders on the cushion. She grips the front of your bunched shirt and hauls you onto the floor, bringing you to your knees. She lifts her leg over your shoulder, planting her foot on the couch behind you.

She pushes your face into her pelvis and you open your mouth. You taste her, tilting your head back as she stains your tongue with her desire. Your eyes roll back as she holds you there, her hips rolling as she grips a fistful of your hair.

“Kneel in worship of me, sweet one,” she cradles the back of your head as she brings you closer, “leave your false god behind.”

All doubt, all dread, dwindles away as you’re swallowed by the heat of temptation. The strength of your spirit succumbs to the weakness of your flesh. Forgive me, lord, oh please, forgive me for how sweet it is.

[sarahsmi13s]

sarah! babe! congrats on the big 400. if anyone deserves it, it's your sweet soul!

ok my (first?) request is obviously Iceman because we all know what era I'm in. I 1000% need this to survive, just so you're aware.

"Is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

Pumped for you and can't wait to see what you churn out for this even! Big love! <3

i'm so so sorry it took me so long to get to this girl! thank you so much for celebrating with me!

pairing: tom 'iceman' kazansky x kerner!reader warnings: language, smut, unrequited but requited love, let me know if i missed any word count: ~1.5k a/n: i will most likely expand further on this in the future once i've caught up on some other works ❤❤ prompt: "is there a reason you're naked in my bed?"

Why did your brother have to invite his pilot on your family trip? His incredibly hot, but annoying pilot.

Though, he was your big brother… it was his job to get under your skin.

You had originally had a beach trip planned with your friends, but a storm rolled in the day you were scheduled to leave and your friends decided it would be better to reschedule. So after you did that, you headed up to the mountains with the idea to surprise your family.

And that’s how you ended up walking in on… this.

“Ummm, is there a reason you’re naked in my bed, Tom?” 

You tried to avoid looking directly at him, even though your brain had taken a photo of the sight before you could look away. 

“Your bed? Last I checked this was my room.” 

He stayed in the same position on the bed as he looked you over, not at all embarrassed about being completely exposed. His head rested against his arm, the other draped over his sculpted abdomen. 

You didn’t respond, afraid you’d stutter and embarrass yourself further than the obvious blush covering your face and neck.

“You gonna stand there with the door wide open or come in and close it?”

You chose the latter and tossed your bag down before closing the door. “You know, this is actually my room, considering it is my family's cabin. This has been my room since I was 7.” 

Tom scoffed a bit and propped himself up on his elbows, “And last I checked, you were supposed to be at Myrtle Beach.” He got up, securing a blanket around his waist to give you the opportunity to actually look at him. “Which is why I’m in here and not sharing a room with your brother.”

You crossed your arms and focused on his blue eyes, which didn’t actually help you at all. The icy orbs causing your thoughts to just slip out of your mind. 

“W-well, there was a storm that was gonna last a few days, so we-we rescheduled.” You mentally kicked yourself. You sounded so unsure of what you had just said. And it had been the truth.

Tom tilted his chin up, his sly expression already telling you he didn’t believe you.

You scoffed and picked your bag up, “You know what, I’m just gonna sleep on the couch.”

As you hand touched the door knob, Tom’s hand covered yours, “Wait…” You brushed his hand off, “It’s fine, Ice.” You opened the door, “I’ll sleep on the-” 

Tom’s large hand pushed the door shut, holding it closed. “You’ve never called me by my call sign before.” 

You kept your back to him, “Sure I have.”

“No, I would remember.”

“Why is that something you would remember? I’m sure I’ve said plenty of memorable things.” He got close to your ear, “Because you’re the only person I prefer to call me Tom.” 

Ice practically purred the sentence into your ear. The gravel in his voice came from deep in his chest, causing it to rumble against your back. 

You let out a shaky breath, your face heating up, “This isn’t funny Ice. If you’re trying to get back at me for something, can’t you like dump ice on me while I’m in the shower or throw me in the lake while I’m fully clothed? Just don’t do this…” 

“Y/N-” “I’m already embarrassed, please don’t rub it in.”

He rested a hand on your shoulder and carefully turned you around, making you look at him. “I’m not, I swear.”

You didn’t look him in the eye, afraid that if you did he would just laugh at you. 

Tom sighed and tilted your chin up, “I know how you feel about me. You’re not good at hiding it…” You closed your eyes, hating the vulnerable position you're in because your body is on fire. “And maybe I’m too good at hiding it.” 

Your eyes shot open, looking directly in his icy blue eyes in search of the truth – trying to find that harsh critical glaze that waited for you to slip up, for you to make the mistake. 

But it was gone, the glacier of his irises had melted and all you saw was oceans – warm, loving oceans. Any trace of Iceman was gone, melting away to show Tom Kazansky.

He’d hidden his feelings for too long, he needed you to know. Your brother told him the day he invited him out on this trip, he should tell you because he was tired of seeing your love sick gaze on his pilot before watching it turn sad when he got hit on. And he had planned to, but you announced your plans to go to the beach and his plan got shot down.

But now here you were chest to chest as he confessed his feelings for you in nothing but a blanket. 

“Kiss me,” you said breathlessly, lids drooping as you looked from his eyes to his lips.

He grinned and pressed his lips to yours, cupping the side of your neck as he pressed you into the door and made you drop your bag.

That hand immediately buried itself in his hair, the other trying to pull him closer by the small of his back. He locked the door with his free hand before pulling you in by the belt loop of your jean shorts, not caring if his blanket fell.

You pushed away from the door, to go towards the bed, but he pushed you up against the wall. With the movement, the blanket fell from his waist 

You pulled back from him, panting as you looked down, “I feel overdressed now.” He smirked and his hands went to the button on your shorts, “I can fix that.”

His lips attached to your neck as he worked your button loose and pushed your zipper down. His teeth nipped at your pulse point, drawing a quiet moan from your lips as your shorts were hastily pushed to the floor. 

Tom wasted no time pulling away and getting on his knees to pull your underwear down your legs. 

Panting, you peel your shirt off and undo your bra clasp. You looked down as Tom began to kiss your thighs, nipping every other kiss. But before he could lift your leg over his shoulder, you tilted his chin up.

“As good as you most likely are, I need you inside me.” 

“Shit~” He groaned before standing and pushing you flush with the wall, kissing you deeply before pulling away. His hands went to the backs of your thighs, “Jump.”

You don’t hesitate and jump, wrapping your legs around him. “Please Tom~”

He smirked before bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing languid circles as he lined himself up. 

He looked back into your eyes, making sure you still wanted to do this before you went too far.

“I want you, Tom.”

The only four words he needed to hear before he was pushing into you, circling your clit the whole time.

The stretch was uncomfortable for a moment, but the gentle pleasure of his touch helped balance it out.

Once he was buried to the hilt, he kissed you gently but passionately as he waited for you to relax around him.

You relaxed into the kiss immediately, your crossed ankles bringing him closer to you. You moaned against him as his cock twitched and your walls fluttered. “You can move now~”

He nodded, lips hovering over yours as he braced his forearms on the wall and started to move.

“You feel so good~”

“Tom, fuck~”

A small grunt left his lips as your moans vibrated against them. 

His movements were slow, but calculated. He didn’t want to rush this, he wanted you to feel it all.

And you did. Your senses seemed to be in overdrive.

You could feel the pulse and the heat of his cock with every roll of his hips. You could hear the grunting and the groaning as he tried to keep quiet. The scent of sex and his shampoo was all you could smell. 

“Tom, baby, faster please~”

He nodded and pulled away from the wall. 

His arms wrapped around you, one hand going to your hair as he kissed you. He took a few blind steps to get to the bed and lay you down on it.

You both managed to get to the middle of the bed, barely breaking the kiss.

“You’re so beautiful~”

You smiled under him, “So are you~”

He smiled back and pressed his lips to yours, rolling his hips. 

“Oooh Tom~”

“You wanted faster… but I want to do this right~” He rasped out, interlocking his fingers with yours and moving your hands above your head.

You looked up at him, eyes wide and chest heaving. “I’ve been craving you since we met… it only amplified when I got to know you…”

You giggled and kissed his lips, “Is that why you were naked in my bed?”  

“That’s exactly why I was naked in your bed~”

thank you for joining me for this event! ❤ i hope you enjoyed it @valmare ! and again i'm so so sorry it took so long to fulfill this request!

[deskgirl]

Actually, I’m not done with my Everyone is a Time Traveler AU. To follow up, everyone being time travelers explains all the historical anachronisms. It’s all intertemporal pollution and debris. Crocs and studded belts and songs from the 1940s and buttercream and living in someone’s head rent free. This is what happens when too many time travelers converge on the same point in Spacetime.

And yes some of the crew still believe in curses and fairies and crystals and gremlins. So do real NASA scientists and plane pilots. Anyway, if time travel exists, who’s to say other things can’t? Best not to risk it. Some of the crew might also be from even earlier time periods, pulled into the 1700s by wormholes or the Bermuda Triangle.

By the way, I’m putting Buttons down for believing in the theory that all moments in Time, past, present, and future, are equally and simultaneously real, and we merely experience these moments in successive order, creating the sense of a passage of time(B-theory more or less). He describes Time as a “great sea.” The crew never knows, when he’s talking about his love of the sea, if he means the actual wet thing or Time.

I’m also putting Izzy down for believing Time is set in stone and can’t be changed. The details may vary, but the big things always happen. It’s why Stede Bonnet and then Ed going off-script disturbs him so much. It’s why he pushes Ed, why he’s resigned to the raids, why even when he tries to finally talk Ed down and change the direction things are headed, a part of him already knows he’s about to be shot. Finally, finally, finally, he figures it out. It takes turning everything he believed for the last several decades on its ear, shaking the foundation of everything he knows, but he finally gets that some things don’t change—can’t change—but some things can. Some things do. And you have to accept when it does.

Also, I’m going to double down on Ed and Stede having to become time travelers for Plot Convenient Reasons because then they can split up and each hit a different moment in time.

More about Ed and Stede’s Excellent Adventure under the Read More because this is getting wordy. I basically wrote a fic under here. Enjoy.

Picture Ed in a terrifying metal box as lights flash and things make scary noises, or perhaps being outfitted with a fancy time travel bracer with lots of fancy buttons and knobs he’s not to touch under any circumstance—and then suddenly he’s dropping into the ocean. He pulls himself up onto a ship to find himself witnessing the tail end of a raid. He sees Ivan on the deck unmoving amongst the bodies. He sees himself boarding the Revenge, back turned.

He thinks for a brief moment about ending it all right then and there. He could kill his past self. Change everything. Save everyone. It’s not like he exactly likes the guy, right? He’s had this exact dream before even.

But then what happens? Buttons—who was admittedly a seagull at the time but Ed is trying not to question it because he’s already half-convinced it was a dream—warned him about this. He can change certain events, but things might not work out the way he expects or wants. What if Izzy picks up the mantle of Blackbeard and dies for the legend? What if Stede never finds him and keeps searching until he ends up hung by the British or on a Chinese pirate ship with an ominously ticking clock? What if—

Ivan. What he can do is save Ivan. That’s why he’s here. The crew wasn’t sure exactly where or when Ivan died, the raids were all a blur after a while you know? But Ed knew. He remembered Ivan died on the 82nd day of consecutive raiding two hours after noon bell, and he remembered he made everyone get back on the Revenge because he couldn’t stand to let himself or any of the crew show weakness and he didn’t want to watch Ivan die. So he doesn’t know what’s about to happen next. He doesn’t know Ivan survives or that he’s disguised as the sole surviving sailor of the raided merchant ship which somehow miraculously limps its way to a village coastline. The folks say the ship sailed itself. Others say it was Calypso or spirits. Certainly couldn’t have been the half-dead man who apparently hauled himself down to the surgeon’s quarters and patched himself up in the nick of time.

Stede, meanwhile, is also unceremoniously dumped in the sea beside a vacant Revenge anchored in the bay of the currently besieged Republic of Pirates. He wants to charge in and save the day, but, well, he’s already doing that in a sense. For better or for worse. Instead, he hides down in the kitchen and waits. He waits until a harried and very familiar blond man in a naval uniform comes barreling in looking for medical supplies. He’s not looking for a rolling pin to the back of the head. Stun move.

When Stede comes back up, his clothes are rumpled, his hair is a mess and doesn’t quite look the right cut, he’s hauling a covered box, but no one notices. They do notice when he drags Roach over and tells him to save Izzy, interrupting him in the middle of his very important last words to a distraught Ed.

Stede tells a pale, sweating, dying Izzy that he hasn’t been given permission to retire yet, and if he’ll kindly recall, Stede is the captain now and he’ll follow his orders.

Roach tries to explain there’s nothing to be done, he doesn’t have the tools (because they don’t exist yet), only to have Stede start pulling out said tools to everyone’s confusion. A scalpel and forceps from a one-man spaceship escape pod, sunk off the coast of Jamaica. Sealed packets of gauze from an apocalypse survivor’s hidden bug-out bag. Vials of antibiotics, tetanus vaccine, and pain killers from a boat caught in a strange storm years ago. an IV drip from a one-man vessel built to test a spacefold engine. A glass tube with a plunger and a big, wicked-looking needle on it that really is quite awful but it was the best anyone could hope to fashion in 1720 based on provided sketches and descriptions. Stede asks if this will work. Roach lights up. It’s a little concerning. But a good sign. Hopefully.

Ivan finds Ed and Stede a few months later.

He’d heard about the inn. He tells Ed about how he remembers seeing two of him. He waves off any attempt at an explanation. He doesn’t need it. Probably for the best he doesn’t know. He’s just glad Ed got his shit sorted out.

He’s relieved to hear Izzy survived, too. He thinks it’s funny Izzy would go and give a big dramatic death speech only to survive. That’d just be his luck. No wonder he’s run off with the crew instead of sticking around.

Ed admits he doesn’t know what to do with his feelings. Izzy is alive, but for a while there he wasn’t and neither was Ivan. He bottled up so much of the pain, hung onto it. At the same time, he did grieve. They were gone. But now they’re alive and what’s he supposed to do with it all?

Ivan figures there’s probably a world where they did die, and it’s alright for Ed to hurt over that, but they’re alive here and now and so he can put that pain aside. In a parallel of the lesson Izzy learned, Ivan points out you have to recognize what you can change, accept what you can’t. That’s all anyone can do.

Meanwhile Stede has an idea he got from the crew for a big outdoor bath as an amenity for the inn. A pool, Lucius had called it. Very popular in the future. A must-have for any successful hotel. Big tiled thing like the Romans used, with reclining wooden lounges and umbrellas all around. It’ll need plenty of cleaning, though. Lucius made sure he knew it was the done thing in Rome and thus in the future as well to have attractive men in very little clothing attend to such duties. Well, when in Rome!

[brotherwtf]

Also, Buck holds a lot of tension in his body. John is his stress relief.

Maybe some massage? But John fucking Buck until he is finally relaxed. 😍

stressed out Buck is really just a mentality, that boy needs some REST

----

John could tell just by the way that Gale was holding himself that the day was not going how he wanted it to.

His shoulders were almost up to his ears, his eyes stayed trained forward and his fists clenched permanently by his side as he walked. His teeth worried at his bottom lip until the skin broke and he reached up to use his fingers to pluck at the loose skin and do it all over again.

Gale wasn't doing well. John decided he was going to help.

That afternoon he had caught Harding in a fantastic mood, who gave them a pass for the long weekend, allowing them to travel to London that night and stay for 72 hours in a hotel room. It was the perfect way for Gale to finally relax after everything.

Even when Gale sat on the train, he sat ramrod straight, fingers picking at the loose threads on the seat below him, teeth still chewing on his lip. John shook his head with a brief smile and placed a hand on Gales knee, squeezing until Gale slowly started to loosen up. Gale gives him a tight smile and nods before looking straight ahead and getting lost in his thoughts again.

Once they get to the hotel room, John almost immediately takes Gale's bags from him and presses a slow kiss to his lips.

"How you doing, Buck? You're tense as all hell," John says, running his hands up Gales arms.

Gale melts a little bit, leaning into the kiss and into John's touch, but he still feels like a live wire under his fingers.

"Just flying, we're going on more and more missions recently. These boys need me, I can't let them down," Gale says between kisses.

John shakes his head and chuckles, bringing Gale in for a firmer embrace.

"It's gonna be alright, Buck, don't you worry about it. Only two pilots left in the air, right?" John says and it pulls a gentle smile from Gale's lips.

John gently pushes Gale towards the bed, kissing him continuously until he's melting more and more into his lips, body slowly releasing the tension it was holding. He forces Gale to lay down and continues to kiss him as he takes off his uniform. He bats Gale's hands away when he tries to help, insists that he's going to help Gale with his stress.

When Gale's down to his briefs he pushes him up the bed gently, turning him over and exposing his back to John.

"You need a massage, I can practically see the knots in your shoulders," John says, avoiding a swift kick from Gale's foot.

He straddles Gale's thighs, pressing them down so he can use it as leverage. He's still mostly dressed, having taken off his jacket and slacks, now down to only his undershirt and briefs. He leans down and presses a kiss to the nape of Gales neck, running his hands gently up his back and pressing his thumbs into the tense knobs on Gales neck. Gale groans, twitching a little from the slight pain that Johns hands provide.

John leans forward and buries his nose into Gales hair as he rubs his hands across Gale's back, pressing his fingers into the extra tight spots. Gale makes little noises in the back of his throat and they're driving John a little crazy.

He bravely moves his hands down to Gale's ass, squeezing it a couple of times before Gale looks up at him with an unimpressed expression.

"That's not where I'm tense, John," Gale mutters and John just smiles.

"Come on, won't it be helpful? Let me take you apart, it'll feel so good," John whispers.

Gale shivers a little when John presses his teeth against Gale's hairline, but he just nods gently. John smiles, adjusting his legs so his hips are pressed against Gale's ass.

"Gonna take my time with you darling, gonna make you feel so good and relaxed. God Gale, you're fucking stunning," John says and relishes in the way Gale gently whines.

He dips his fingers below Gales waistband, grazing them over his hole before gently pushing them in. Gale's tight, he's always tight, but how he squeezes around him like a damn vice. He huffs beneath John, trying to will himself to relax and loosen up.

"That's it, that's it come on doll relax for me, there you go," John says, and he's able to add another finger into Gale.

John makes sure it's slow, he doesn't want to hurt Gale, just wants to make sure he relaxes. John hopes this will help.

Gale's relaxed enough that John pulls out, urges Gale to move his hips up so he can take his boxers off, running his hands up and down Gale's back to soothe him.

"You ready for me, Gale?" John asks.

Gale nods, squeezing his eyes shut and fisting the sheets between his hands. John takes his cock and pushes into Gale ever so gently, slowly and steadily pushing into him and drowning in the small groans that escape Gales mouth.

It's unhurried and slow, small thrusts into Gale, almost just John grinding into him. He has his nose pressed against Gale's cheek and he kisses him every so often, swallowing the small sounds that Gale makes when John thrusts into him. He links their hands together in the sheets, pressing himself somehow further into Gale.

They spend the rest of the afternoon like that, John lazily fucking Gale, going so so slow and gentle that Gales practically liquid beneath his hands afterwards.

[hismercytomyjustice]

HEAR ME OUT! IMHO (as someone who has it), Pacific Rim is a fantastic depiction of what it’s like living with OCD, specifically “Pure O” OCD.

It is exactly like “chasing the RABIT,” best depicted by the scene where Mako is trapped in her childhood memory.

SOME BACKGROUND ON OCD:

“Pure O” OCD is a term used to describe OCD where a person’s compulsions are mostly mental. Like getting stuck in thought loops as opposed to something like handwashing. You have a distressing/intrusive thought and your brain jumps through hoops to deal with the fear/anxiety/shame/etc that comes along with it.

From the ICBT (Inference-Based Cognitive Behavioral Therapy) model:

“A doubt is about a possibility - a thought about what 'could be' or 'might be'. Your symptoms of OCD begin with doubt. Consequences, distress and compulsions logically follow from the doubt. Without the doubt, you would remain firmly grounded in reality without any symptoms of OCD.”

Most folks get an intrusive thought and, while they might find it upsetting or out of character for them, they’re able to accept it as involuntary and more of a random brain blip. With OCD (and some other disorders), a person gets that same intrusive thought and fixates on it. They struggle to let it go, become emotionally tied to it, and experience shame and fear around it.

For example, say you have an intrusive thought of “I might have left the stove on.” Say you aren’t at home to check it. Someone without OCD might understandably worry about it, but maybe they can call a friend/family member to check or maybe they resolve to run by the house when they have a chance to make sure they turned it off.

Someone with OCD however, might spiral. They might go from “I might have left the stove on” to “What if there’s a towel on the stove?” to “the towel could catch on fire,” to “my kitchen could catch on fire,” to “my house could burn down,” to “I could lose everything in the fire,” to “and it would all be my fault.”

And with each mental leap, their anxiety/fear grows. They may not have even left the stove on, but they become convinced they did and now they’re panicking about the possible consequences of their theoretical actions. Their mind/body reacts like their house did burn down and it was all their fault.

Because this triggered such a strong emotional state, maybe next time they cook something they check the stove is off. But what if the knob wasn’t all the way in the off position? What if the burner was still hot and a towel was close by? What if they looked at the wrong knob and the one for the burner they used was actually on? So they check again. And again. And again. Because maybe if they check this time, they’ll finally have run through all the terrifying possibilities and their brain will accept that the stove is off and there’s no risk of a fire.

Meanwhile, by checking over and over again, they’re feeding into their fear and anxiety. It might make them feel better in the moment “oh good, the stove is off” but then they step away from the stove and the fear/doubt returns.

And then the cycle starts all over again the next time they use the stove.

HOW THIS PERTAINS TO PACIFIC RIM:

In Pacific Rim, Mako relives the worst moment of her entire life. She’s a child again and the kaiju is there, her parents are gone, and she’s terrified and running through the streets to try to save herself.

Raleigh realizes what’s happening. He’s a veteran jaeger pilot. He knows all about the RABIT (Random Access Brain Impulse Triggers). He knows what Mako is experiencing isn’t actually happening right now. He tries to pull her out of the spiral, but as she gets deeper into the memory, her emotions grow stronger. She KNOWS she’s not a child anymore. She KNOWS she’s in a jaeger. She KNOWS the kaiju of her past is dead and can’t hurt her anymore.

But none of that matters. She’s stuck in the spiral anyway.

In this case, the deeper she’s pulled down, the more evident her terror becomes because now her emotions are pouring into the jaeger. She doesn’t mean to, but she readies one of its weapons in her desperation to protect herself.

Pandemonium erupts. Everyone’s ordered to evacuate to minimize the inevitable damage the weapon will cause. No one can reach Mako. She’s too deep in the memory.

Even as others flee, Pentecost, Herc, Tendo, and Chuck struggle to manually shutdown power to the jaeger. They only manage it by the skin of their teeth because of how strong Mako’s connection to her memory is.

The memory is like an intrusive thought Mako can’t let go of, the anxiety and fear generated by it fueling her deeper descent into the memory. Everyone else knows it’s not real. Deep down, Mako knows it’s not real. But the emotions tied to the memory in that moment convince her otherwise. While Raleigh doesn’t get sucked into the memory too, we still see him reacting to it because it feels so real.

They finally manage to power down the jaeger and Mako escapes from the memory. In the aftermath she’s ashamed and embarrassed. Pentecost told her something like this might happen and it did.

Even worse, Mako’s always wanted the opportunity to avenge her family and put a stop to the destruction the kaiju have wrought on so many lives. She knew this could happen going in, but it happened anyway!

She relived the worst moment of her life, spectacularly failed in front of people she respects and cares about, nearly killed those same people, and she disappointed herself and Pentecost. She’s spent years trying to convince him to let her become a pilot and fuck, it turns out he was right all along, despite her training, her dedication, and her superior skills.

Now Raleigh is going to need a new partner. They don’t have time for this! The kaiju are coming! They’re humanity’s last hope! How can she face any of these people after almost accidentally killing them? Why couldn’t she stop chasing the RABIT? She knew it was just a memory! What is wrong with her that she couldn’t do this one thing she’s dreamed about and vied for her whole life? How can people like Chuck or Raleigh do this but she can’t?

Just because she’s no longer trapped in the memory, doesn’t mean it and the distress she experienced because of it haven’t had a ripple effect. Yeah, the ripples are less powerful now that she’s not in the epicenter of it all, but they’re still there.

BRINGING IT ALL TOGETHER:

The memory in Mako’s case is the trigger/intrusive thought. She has a visceral reaction to it in the moment, but even after she escapes from it she’s not automatically fine.

That’s what is so fucking frustrating about OCD. You can sit there all day and think “the stove isn’t on, this is just my OCD” but it doesn’t magically make your OCD go away. Learning to live with OCD is learning to identify these thoughts spirals and preventing lapses from becoming relapses.

A lapse could be “I might have left the stove on” and worrying briefly bit about it before realizing it’s an OCD thought and defusing it, but a relapse is the full blown anxiety trip detailed above that ends in “my house is going to burn down.”

Lapses are scary. It’s so easy to have one and immediately think “oh fuck, oh no, the OCD is back,” but it’s not necessarily true. You can get OCD into a state of remission, even if you can’t get rid of it completely. It’s also incredibly easy to beat yourself up over a lapse or a trigger. Yeah, in the moment you feel like you’re being chased by a kaiju, but then you snap out of the memory and you’re embarrassed and frustrated and scared.

“Why doesn’t anyone else struggle with this,” “what’s wrong with me,” “I didn’t even fucking leave the stove on,” “if anyone knew how upset I was about this, they’d think I was pathetic/stupid/overreacting/being ridiculous,” and so on.

OCD thrives on fear and doubt and shame. Avoiding intrusive thoughts makes it worse by increasing fear/anxiety around them and ruminating on intrusive thoughts makes it worse by further feeding into the obsession.

But the good news is your life doesn’t have to revolve around your OCD! There’s a lot out there that can help like support groups, therapy (specifically Exposure Therapy and Inference-Based CBT), and medications (like antidepressants).

Something that really stood out to me from the OCD Conference I attended this weekend was this quote from the Strategies for Sustained Recovery From OCD panel.

“OCD should not just be about symptom reduction, but about reclaiming your life and finding genuine joy and fulfillment. The primary reason to persevere through the hard work of treatment is to make your life more fun, meaningful, and worth living. Identify activities, hobbies, and relationships that you find deeply rewarding and that bring a sense of purpose beyond just managing your OCD.”

So, yeah, I just wanted to share what it’s like living with OCD and also wanted to give a little hope to others who might have it or have friends/loved ones who do. It fucking sucks, but if you equip yourself with the right tools it can make it a lot easier to live with. It can take most folks over a decade to get diagnosed with OCD and get proper treatment. There’s a lot of factors at play in that regard like recognizing OCD in the first place, access to care, costs for care, shame and embarrassment, etc.

Hell, it took me ~34 years to realize I had it and I was lucky enough to have three therapists tell me they saw the signs! I’m only just now starting to really learn about it, how it impacts my life, and how to live with it.

Just know you’re not alone and that it can get better! I’m definitely not in remission, but I’m working toward it! And I hope if you’ve read this far and resonate with all this, that you’re on your way to remission too!