#reader friendly

[functionalchaos01]

Welcome to the reader-friendly copy of the Struck By Love Challenge by @fruitysimsy and @hellohopesims! This is for anyone who struggles with color blindness or just needs a simpler format. Thank you to Fruitysims for giving me the thumbs up to post this <3 Here is the link to the OG Post: Struck By Love Challenge

For anyone who wants to download a copy to check off as you play here is the link to my Google Doc version: Struck By Love Doc

Sul Sul!

[zevrra]

𝐢𝐢𝐢. 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐟𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫

synop: (this is the final part to this series) ; you somehow manage to take on both viktor and jayce inside the lab.

wc: 2k

includes: smüt(ns//fw), fem!reader, threësome, fïngering, ëdging, v peneträtion, double v peneträtion, semi-public sëx, dirty talk

extra: make sure to read part 1 & 2 as well!! thank you all for the love and support on this <33

“shit.” jayce groans at the sight of you. neither he nor viktor could argue against your wishes when you looked so damn good like that, begging for them both. you watch as both of them blush a soft red before both nodded in agreement. “it’ll take some…time.” jayce adds with a slight gesture to his own twitching cöck; pride and worry in his tone.

but none of that mattered. you said what you said and you’d live up to it. “don’t care. i want you both.”

and he wasn’t kidding when he said it would take some time.

after what feels like an eternity of jayce fingering you, stretching you out, drawing you closer and closer to a second orgasm only to rip his fingers away from you, you’re beginning to fear you might lose your mind. you sit in his lap, as he’s returned to sitting on top of the desk, with your legs spread open wide for all to see. and if you were in any other state of mind, you might have been a little embarrassed about being so exposed. but not now, now you were simply dumbed down with pleasure as jayce’s hand sneaks its way back to your aching pussy.

“no more.” you weep, tensing up as his fingers press back into your core. he easily slides three fingers clean up until the second knuckle inside of you.

“sorry pretty, gotta make sure you can take us both.” jayce mumbles softly into your hair, almost apologetically but he’s not really that sorry. he’s not sorry at all, especially when his fingers slip oh-so-easily inside of you and the noises he forces out of you and your soaking cunt. listening to you moan while your core makes the most embarrassing, wet noises; oh no it turned him and viktor on extremely.

viktor stands between your thighs then, kissing the top of your head as he presses two of his own fingers inside you, sliding right up against jayce’s fingers and stretching you even further. “you were the one who begged for both of us, weren’t you?” vik hums in a teasing tone, a smile on his face. he flexes his fingers inside of you, just about the same time jayce does and it would have pissed you off how in sync they were but the mind numbing pleasure shut you up far too quickly.

“just a little more.” jayce encourages sweetly, placing a kiss against your head.

you whine in response to both of them, panting heavily as their fingers begin to work faster inside of you. they both finger you in turn, matching each other’s pace effortlessly, as they stretch you more and more. jayce’s fingers push deep, viktor’s pulls out, jayce slips his fingers out, viktor pushes his right back in. back and forth they work on your cunt until you’re growing hotter. lava burns in your lower abdomen and in your thighs and it makes you fidget against jayce’s lap. you whine at the tight feeling at your core, begging for any kind of release. and as the tightness grows closer and closer, you get louder and louder with each press of the fingers inside of you. the threat of coming again makes your toes curl, back arching, fingers gripping into the closest arm you can grab onto as your orgasm burns in your lower half.

but just like the several times before, the two men remove their fingers just at the last second. your orgasm threatens to break open the floodgates but is quickly retreating at the loss of stimulation and the edging leaves you gasping while tears cling to your eyelashes. “‘ts enough! i can’t take it anymore!” you plead.

jayce returns to placing soft kisses wherever he can reach while his hands smooth along your arms and the rest of your body. “you did amazing.” he praises, adjusting your body as he speaks, so now you can fully lean your weight back against him. hands sliding under your thighs and keeping your legs open for the next part to come. “viktor, give her what she wants.“

you could almost weep at his words but instead you nod as quickly as you can. “please.”

“mhm darling.” viktor softly hums in response to your begging. one of his hands presses against jayce’s knee as he angles himself right up against your core. his other hand wraps around his overly aching cock, giving it a swift tug with a low groan, before he’s pressing forward. the tip of his pink head slides easily against your wet cunt; and he slides even easier inside of your waiting body.

you tighten at the intrusion but quickly welcome it as viktor bottoms out. his hips press against your own as he slips his cock all the way inside you, reaching deeper than their fingers could have and it makes you cry with relief. “yes! god, yes.” you groan as you take all of viktor with ease.

who in turn mimics your groan at the warmth wrapped around him. he braces himself completely down onto jayce’s thighs now, forcing himself to still for a moment. “shit...” viktor comments with a whine before he slowly pulls out, his pretty eyes never leaving where the two of you connect, staring as he disappears once again inside of you. and he whimpers when he bottoms out for the second time.

you can’t help but chuckle a little at his fixation on your bodies meshing together. you reach with a gentle hand and caress the side of his face and he melts into your touch, glancing up at you while his hips begin to move ever so slightly. “you ok?” you ask sweetly, thumb rubbing across the high of his cheekbone.

“i am better than okay.” viktor replies with a small smile. the pupils of his eyes are wide upon looking up at your mutually red face and you manage a weak smile right back at him.

“c’mere. you’re making me feel so good.” you hum and your words make his hips stutter. he moves just a little faster, leaning forward with your guiding hand to allow both of you to kiss. and you kiss him oh so sweetly. your tongue running across his bottom lip and he gladly matches your movement while he keeps his pace thrusting inside of you.

jayce bites down on your shoulder, not to hurt you or anything, just to get your attention as you and viktor share a heated kiss. “don’t forget about me…” he mutters, pouting as he shifts his hips to press his own angry red head against your body.

you gasp softly at the thick of his tip pressing into your skin, causing you to briefly break the kiss with viktor to glance over your shoulder at the pouting man. “well, come on then. make me feel good too.” you tell jayce and it’s all he needs to hear before his hand slips from the back of your thigh to wrap around his thick cock, pressing the head right up against where viktor steadily fucks into you. you return to kissing viktor, eating up every whimper and groan the other man lets loose into your mouth.

jayce times everything else perfectly. as viktor pulls out, jayce rushes inside. his thick cock spears you deeper than vik’s had and you hate to say it but thank fuck for all the prepping jayce had insisted on. he slips deep inside and before you can fully adjust to his size alone, viktor is slipping himself right back inside of you; right next to jayce.

to say you’re stuffed full is an understatement. they both sit deep inside of you, moving just enough to continue to stretch you further now that they’ve managed to fit inside. you can’t help but cry into vik’s mouth, and it’s his turn to eat up every noise you make. and just like with their fingers before, the two fall into a perfect rhythm. viktor dives in, jayce slips out, viktor presses back inside; the combo leaves you breathless.

jayce’s hands return to your thighs as he ruts inside of you, messy but he makes up for it with his girth while viktor places perfectly angled thrusts into every sensitive bit inside your throbbing pussy. you break the kiss with a sharp cry as the two continue, hearing vik whimper at how much tighter you must feel now. meanwhile jay is in your ear grunting harshly with each thrust. “fuck.” he groans, hips never faltering as pleasure takes hold of him while he slips and slides right up against viktor. his nose digs into the crook of your neck and he practically pants against you, fingers tightening on your thighs.

you can’t even respond. words are nonexistent to you anymore as you’re split in half with both men fucking you; and all you can do is weep with pleasure. your orgasm is quick to build up again, it doesn’t take much now anyway, as the burn returns inside of your lower half. viktor presses his head against your other shoulder and somehow the two know to turn and place kisses against your throat. you were definitely going to be sore tomorrow but would need a damn turtleneck at this point too…you can’t complain though.

“going to…” viktor whispers against your neck and you nod in agreement. you were also getting closer and closer to the edge of your orgasm too.

doesn’t help when jayce suddenly ups his speed and deepens his thrusts, throwing both you and viktor into a spiraling mess. “j-jayce!” you cry, his fingers tightening again against your thighs as he practically piledrives inside of you, wildly thrusting against viktor as well.

“can’t last.” jayce grunts, burying his nose as deep as he can into your neck once more. “finish together.” he adds with a deep groan.

viktor is the first to lose himself. he slips out, whimpering, thrusting into his hand to finish himself off across your hip. you, mere seconds after vik, finish with jayce still pounding into you. he fucks you through your orgasm as it crashes down on you like a wave. you try to form any semblance of words but nothing slips past your lips besides pathetic whines. and with you squeezing tight around jayce through your much needed orgasm, it brings him into his own. his hips stutter harshly a few more times inside your spent pussy before he’s slipping out of you, quickly fucking the rest of his climax out against his hand, roping every last drop out onto your thigh and hip.

after his finish, all three of you return to mostly silence then, the lab being filled with nothing but your shared heavy breaths in the wake of your orgasms. you slump against jayce as viktor leans against you, running a hand to smooth through viktor’s hair as you all try and collect yourselves. and to think this all happened because you were too impatient to wait for nightfall. the thought put a small smile on your lips.

“gods. i need a shower.” you cut through the silence, smiling fondly as both jayce and viktor manage weak laughs. “but i don’t think i’ll be walking for a little while.” you add as you semi stretch out along jayce’s strong lap, soreness already settling into your hips.

as if sudden dots are connected, both men realize that they’ve completely—for lack of better words—soiled you; covered in their sticky mess during the midst of their highs. viktor scrambles to find something to clean you up with as jayce shifts and adjusts you onto the desk he previously had been sitting on to help in the search with viktor. shamefully, they come up with nothing besides jayce’s large shirt and he tries cleaning you up the best he can with it.

meanwhile, you try your best not to laugh as he forfeits up his clothes, staining his shirt with the mess he and viktor shared. you watch with soft eyes as jayce cleans you up while vik dresses himself, handing you jayce’s jacket to semi cover yourself with. “next time…let’s use a bed. and be closer to a proper bath.” you hum ’innocently’.

with both men staring at you with shocked faces, you’re unable to hold back anymore; you break out into laughter as viktor and jayce both chirp a surprise; “next time?“

[dontforgetukraine]

Signs That You're Looking at Ukraine Through a Russian Prism

by Mariam Naiem

1. Perceiving Russian culture as apolitical Culture is political. Russia weaponizes its heritage, promoting a 'great Russia' myth to normalize the subjugation of other 'lesser' cultures. Literary classics become tools of cultural supremacy. 2. Perceiving this war as 'fraternal' Russian propaganda portrays Ukraine and Russia as inseparably linked peoples. This concept ignores Ukraine's aspirations for independence and self-determination and imposes the idea that, at the core, we are one and the same. 3. Pushing reconciliation with Russian opposition This narrative ignores the power imbalance. Any dialogue must be on Ukraine's terms, if and when Ukrainians choose. External pressure for reconciliation is unacceptable. Ukraine's agency is non-negotiable. 4. Explaining Ukraine to Ukrainians Explaining Putin's motives, Ukrainian history, Dostoevsky's relevance to Ukraine, and so on implies that you possess superior knowledge of the topic compared to Ukrainians, which is not true. Ukrainians have deep insights into Russia's actions based on historical experience and direct impact. Such explanations, even if well-intentioned, might come across as patronizing or dismissive of Ukrainian expertise. 5. Suggesting capitulation Urging Ukraine to yield? It won't end the war. Russia regroups, and casualties mount later. Ukraine's fight is for survival, severely limiting compromise options. Respect Ukrainians' difficult position and right to determine their future. 6. Whataboutism "Other conflicts exist" isn't a reason to help less – it's a call to help more. Each crisis deserves its own focus. Don't use comparisons to justify inaction on Ukraine. 7. Claiming Ukrainians don't deserve help Questioning a nation's worthiness of aid based on alleged issues can be seen as justifying inaction. It's more constructive to focus on the current situation and humanitarian needs. Consider the actions of the aggressor rather than criticizing those defending themselves. 8. Not my war A nuclear-armed autocracy attacking a democracy is everyone's problem. It's not about values – it's about time. This war isn't yours today, but ignore it, and it'll be at your doorstep tomorrow. Ukraine's front line is democracy's front line. P.S. Consider the Ukrainian perspective and try to imagine their experiences. It’s important to avoid assuming how one might act in their situation. What Ukrainians may need most is genuine understanding and support. The key is to listen and empathize.

[vesperillian]

i didnt really understand why old people are so afraid to experiment with technology & have to ask someone younger about the most basic shit until we got a new toaster oven & i was afraid to operate it unguided for awhile even though its really not that complex because i was afraid i might blow up the house or smth so yea i get it now

[lightseoul]

CHAPTER 2 | ALL OUT OF LUCK

w.c. 3.8k

tags. fem!reader, pro-hero!katsuki, aged-up (26), some cussing, adult themes (not smut lol) (yet) (jk) (unless...), the mission finally starts, so much plot from here on out y'all so buckle up

a/n. i didn't get to include the most important bits that were supposed to be presented in this chapter because i got carried away with the buildup lol. exciting times ahead y'all. i have so much in store for you with this series. don't be a stranger and let's talk!

links. masterlist, ao3 (coming soon)

You can only stare back at the woman peering at you, her face painted with a thick layer of makeup, her hair styled to staged ‘effortless’ perfection, and her body wrapped in an outfit that’s equal parts provocative and refined.

Her image is so flawlessly curated—so much so that you barely notice the apprehension that’s hidden amidst her features, if it weren’t for the fact that that woman is you.

You can barely recognize yourself—and perhaps that’s the point of all this.

Asahi and Moriyama didn’t have to explicitly state it yesterday—they need you to put in every ounce of effort to make sure that you succeed, and that includes doing everything you can to supplement your quirk all the while keeping your real identity lowkey.

Even if it means looking like this.

You’re about to give in to your second thoughts and change out of the black, low-cut tank and beige cardigan you have on when an array of knocks echo from what you think is your front door, and you freeze.

With a cautious glance at your bedroom’s wall clock, you think you’re supposed to feel a wave of relief wash over you when you see that it’s 9:00 PM on the dot, the exact time Bakugou said he’d pick you up, which means no villain or mal intentioned person is at your front porch, but that doesn’t come.

Instead, the sense of dread that’s been stirring in your gut ever since you got swept by Asahi’s men yesterday only magnifies, leaving you a bit cold and…are you shaking?

You don’t get to dwell on that, though, because another round of rapping resonates from your foyer again, which somehow pulls you out of your nervous stupor. You hurriedly run to the door, not even bothering to check through the peephole, opening it with a turn of the knob to see Bakugou.

Wearing a white face mask and decked in a fitting black hoodie, with his ash-blonde hair peeking through the sides of a dark baseball cap.

His fist is frozen mid-air as he stares at you, eyes slightly widened in shock, as if he didn’t believe you’re capable of this thing called punctuality. He promptly brings it down, though, schooling his expression into a neutral one, but not before giving you a quick once-over.

“Hey,” he offers, voice gruff and way lower than you remembered it back in high school.

“Hello,” you counter, looking back at your messy apartment out of habit. “I’m almost done. I just need to grab my purse.”

And, because you genuinely need to know for the sake of what you’re about to do, you ask: “Do I look okay?”

He must’ve not been anticipating that question, because his eyebrows furrow ever so minutely like you just caught him off guard. “Yeah,” he eventually replies after studying the entire length of your body once again.

And, you may have just imagined it, but you swear to god his eyes linger on your chest for a beat longer than necessary before he meets your gaze.

“You clean up…” he pauses, like he’s grasping for the right adjective, before settling with: “…decent.”

At that, you feel yourself deflate a bit. Maybe you wanted a more affirming answer, definitely not because you want that from him, but because you need to look good. However, if there’s anything the rumor mill told you back when you were still teenage students, it’s that Bakugou Katsuki was a man of few words when he was serious, let alone appreciative, so you take his comment in stride.

Besides, in comparison to how you looked yesterday, anything is an improvement, really.

“Thanks,” you respond, and you debate for a second whether or not to say the next thing but ultimately decide on it. “…And you look mildly disguised.”

That seems to ruffle Bakugou’s feathers. “Mildly?”

You shrug, suddenly feeling unsure about your honesty. “I get the hoodie and the cap and the face mask, but there’s no hiding your hulking frame, man.”

And really, there isn’t. How are you supposed to conceal a torso as large as that?

You gesture to his chest and shoulder area for further emphasis. “I don’t think you can pass up as a regular citizen but like as a non-descript athlete, maybe?”

To your dismay, Bakugou merely grunts before shaking his head. “This’ll work.”

Apparently already over your suggestion, he glances past your shoulder as he shifts his weight on his other foot. “Can you grab your purse now? We’ve to get going.”

Now, you’ve got half a mind to argue and try to convince him that maybe going for a better disguise is better in the long run but you’re silenced by his domineering gaze. So instead, you nod before rushing back to your bedroom and grabbing the bag you already prepared beforehand, as well as your phone that’s charging on top of your bedside table.

Although it won’t be of much use later, or in the coming few weeks, if everything goes according to plan.

“Ready?” he asks when you return to the doorway with your things in tow.

“Yup,” you retort as you lock the door behind you, and just like that, you’re well on your way to a potential death sentence.

You’re in the elevator going down to the ground floor by the time he speaks up again. “We’re commuting,” he starts, not looking at you but instead scrutinizing the barely hanging on floor buttons. “Can’t risk raising suspicion by driving there.”

“Where are we going, exactly?” you ask just as the elevator dings, signifying your arrival.

The doors burst open, and he steps out. “You’ll see.”

The commute to wherever the hell it is you two are going is quiet.

Bakugou didn’t divulge any further details as you stepped out of your building, wordlessly ordering you with a stern look to just follow. Frankly, you don’t like how you’re being kept in the dark, but you don’t contend. You’re acutely aware that you have a limited number of cards to play with Bakugou, and you have to play them right, if you want to even survive this mission without your partnership falling apart and jeopardizing the entire thing. Wasting a card on stupid information would be downright foolish on your end.

Even the walk to the bus stop is silent, and so is the entire ride. Despite it being quite late into the evening, the vehicle is still somewhat crowded, which you chalk up to it being a Friday night. You find yourself relaxing in your seat as the realization dawns on you—perhaps there was no point in getting too riled up about getting noticed.

And besides, you’re taking extra precautions, too. You’re not sitting next to each other, because he’s trying to stave off attention while you’re straining to catch it. Maybe not of these strangers, but of the people you’re going to meet later on.

Roughly 10 minutes and a short subway ride later, you climb up the underground stairs to a stop you vaguely remember hearing from your coworkers about. You recall how she described an old party district right in the middle of Musutafu, and sure enough, the text on the street signs match the name she recounted during one of your lunch breaks.

“Over here,” Bakugou calls out from a few feet ahead of you. You quickly quit your observing and follow suit, mindful of keeping an appropriate, not at all questionable distance between the two of you.

After what felt like walking five blocks from the subway, you see Bakugou halt and make a left into a poorly lit alleyway. You hesitate for a second, having been on autopilot and going straight for the last how many minutes. You’re able to swiftly gather yourself, though, steering in the same direction.

The moment that you do, it instantly registers to you that you’re not just in the party district anymore. If the dingy signages and the palpable seediness of the alley are any indication, you’re most likely in the red-light district now.

Suddenly, everything feels a bit too real, and you barely catch yourself stumbling back on your feet. This doesn’t go unnoticed by Bakugou, who instinctively moves to reach out for you from where he’s standing. He pauses, though, when you’re able to regain your bearings with a slightly embarrassed smile.

“Sorry,” you offer meekly.

He eyes you with the very same inexplicable expression from before. “You good?”

You’re not about to tell him you’re scared shitless, so you give him a half-hearted nod. Turning to study the exterior of the small building, you take in the lightly peeling paint and the booming music emanating from it. “This the place?”

“Yes,” he answers without missing a beat. “Are you sure you’re good?”

You whip to look back at Bakugou, who, if you didn’t know any better, is now looking apprehensive.

You decide then and there that you have to get your shit together.

Bravery is contagious, but so is fear.

For a second, you contemplate using your quirk on yourself to calm your nerves down, but eventually decide against it. There are much bigger fish to fry tonight, and what’s the point of learning all those damned breathing and grounding techniques if you’re not going to use them?

“I’m ready,” you finally tell him after a moment of both of you standing there. “Let’s go in before we start looking unusual out here.”

If Bakugou notices the unease you’re sure you’re radiating, he doesn’t comment on it. Instead, he gives you a curt nod, before turning to open the door.

And when he does, you’re almost instantaneously flooded by the music that was just escaping through the cracks and crevices of the run-down building. You fight the instinct to cover your ears as you step into the large room behind Bakugou, eyes quickly darting all over the place to drink in the scene before you.

Right in the back of the space is a stage that extends in the center as a runway to the middle of the room. The orange and pink mood lights illuminating the area are relatively dim minus the bulbs lining the set and walkway. And, beneath the elevated platform are what have to be pleather seats littered all over the floor—all of which are occupied by decidedly rambunctious men.

You resist the urge to wrinkle your nose as their boisterous laughter fills your ears, opting to face Bakugou instead.

“Hey,” you call out to him, who stops in his tracks to look at you. You sneak a glance at the people at the bar nearest the two of you, just to make sure they’re not listening in, before you continue. “Are you sure this is the place?”

You don’t have to peek beneath his mask to know he’s now scowling at you.

“What am I, a dumbass? I told you, this is it.” He then shifts away from you, far enough that you barely hear his next words. “…It has to be.”

Well.

That’s not exactly comforting.

Your discomfort only heightens when the already faint lights dim further, and the music switches from a pop song to which you know a bit of the lyrics to a rap that, if you were to base it on the first phrase, is all about having explicit, unprotected sex. The crowd of men cheers in anticipation, and as if on cue, a woman dressed in nothing but a two-piece lingerie emerges from the back of the stage, confirming your speculation of what the place is.

A strip club.

You watch as the woman confidently struts towards the center, and apparently, you’re no better than any of the men here because your gaze slowly roves over her slim and toned body, eyes catching at her cleavage that’s leaving nothing to the imagination. You can’t help it—you look down at your own chest, sinking in disappointment at the contrast before promptly looking up in embarrassment, only to find Bakugou studying you closely.

“It’s a strip club,” you blurt out, flustered at getting caught in the act. His eyes only narrow in a way that tells you what you’re already telling yourself: Thank you, Captain Obvious.

Bakugou doesn’t say anything, much to your relief, only moving to the far corner of the room where there are miraculously two seats unoccupied. You follow him with no further questions asked, plopping in the chair to his right, thankful you’re wearing black trousers so that your skin doesn’t have to go into contact with the sticky furniture.

You take the opportunity to clock the rest of the room, cataloguing the bar at the other end of the area near the entrance where a barista is swiftly taking and making orders all at the same time, while the men seated on the stools struggle to decide whether to look at the man or at the stripper now performing an elaborate dance around the pole. Amidst the decorated wall adjacent to the bar is a door with a restroom sign on it, and you squint just enough to see it’s only one stall for everyone. You make a mental note to hold in your pee, at least until you get out of here.

And, because you’re feeling nice, you shift to regard Bakugou with a good-natured smile on your face. “I hope you peed right before leaving your house.”

“What?” he says loud enough for you to hear him over the noise they’re calling music. “I can’t hear you.”

“Shit, right.” You lean in ever so minutely, and Bakugou mirrors you. You try to ignore the new-found proximity. “I said,” you repeat, with a little more volume this time, “I hope you peed right before fetching me. I bet the toilet’s filthy as shit.”

To your delight, not that you’d admit that to him in this lifetime, Bakugou smirks at your little quip after confirming the lone comfort room with his own eyes.

“Don’t worry about me, princess,” he starts, and you stiffen at the nickname, “I’m not the one who has to sit on one.”

You’re about to retort with something along the lines of what if he has to poop out of the blue, or at least try to, because the pet name has you gagged against your better judgment, when a ridiculously tall man clad in all black appears out of nowhere, startling you.

“The f—”

“Dynamight,” the behemoth of a guy cuts you off, eyes trained on the pro-hero beside you and completely ignoring your presence. “We’ve been expecting you.”

“Took you long enough to approach me,” Bakugou sneers, oozing with the confidence you can’t find within yourself right now. “I hate sleazy places like this.”

To that, the man only bows his head slightly, face solemn but devoid of remorse. You watch him as his eyes finally drift to you, albeit for only a split second, before looking back at Bakugou. “Follow me, sir.”

The ash blonde does so, perhaps a tiny bit begrudgingly, and you speedily get up along with him. The two men turn to move, and you’re about to take a step closer towards their direction when a long arm shoots up in front of you, keeping you in place.

Any protests die in your throat when you look up and see the guy’s menacing glare.

“If you don’t mind,” he grits through his teeth, “Only Dynamight is needed.”

“She’s with me,” comes Bakugou’s commanding tone. You chance a glance at the pro-hero, whose countenance is so serious you’d be afraid if you were the one he’s talking to.

“But, sir—”

“It’s the two of us or we’re leaving,” Bakugou demands.

The two engage in a stare down which you witness for what feels like a few minutes before the man finally looks away, frustration etched across his intimidating features. He glares at you once more, as if you’re the one who’s insisting on being Bakugou’s plus one, and you’re about to be convinced that he’s mentally chanting a spell to make you disappear when he gestures for you to follow him with a flick of a head.

You gradually release the breath you didn’t know you were holding as you shadow them as they enter one of the doors on the wall perpendicular to where you were just stationed. It leads to a staircase that swerves in the middle, and you lock eyes with Bakugou as he makes the turn ahead of you. Neither of you says a word, opting to keep on trailing the man, even as you land on the second floor, which looks more and more like a prostitution den.

Once again, your conjecture is confirmed as you walk down the hallway and past several sets of doors on both sides, from which emanate a cacophony of sensual moans and groans. You wonder what Bakugou’s thinking right now, although you can’t get a read on him as you can only observe his backside.

Finally, after what seems like a tortuous eternity, the man stops right in front of the door at the end of the hallway, and you pause right behind him.

He looks back at Bakugou and you with what you’re pretty sure is caution, before knocking on the door twice, and then another two times but in rapid succession.

“Come in,” is what the muffled voice on the other side says.

And so you do.

You’re not entirely sure what you were expecting, because you’ve never actually been in a service room before, but you at least anticipated a bed on which certain…activities can be done.

But what you’re met with instead seems to be a refurbished lounge room with floor-to-ceiling brick walls, black and red quilted couches, and a bar at the far side all lit up with moody orange lighting.

And smack dab in the middle of it—sprawled so languidly all over the furniture—are three individuals.

Three individuals who immediately look at Bakugou.

It’s them, alright. You don’t need your extensive training in reading people to know that these are the ones you came all the way here for.

You quickly take note of their appearances. The seemingly old man who has to be in his late 50s is seated—quite relaxed—in one of the scarlet solo chairs. He’s slim, bordering on frail, but the glint in his eye as he peers at Bakugou tells you that it’d be unwise to rule him out as one of your main threats.

Juxtaposing his age which is further revealed by his shoulder-length salt and pepper hair is the young woman plastered on the couch adjacent to his.

Or maybe ‘woman’ is a bit too generous…

It’s not obvious at first glance, but you immediately notice how some of her body parts appear to be outright robotic in the literal sense. Perhaps it’s her long, pin-straight, jet-black hair that softens her entire look, but there’s no mistaking what seems to be an artificial left eye, a metallic right arm, and angled, silver lips. She’s wearing long pants so there’s no telling which other parts of her are made up of what you think is steel, but the ones visible to you already tell you enough.

And then there’s the third and last man, who, in comparison to the other two, is remarkably…plain.

There isn’t an air of age-induced wisdom around him, nor is there anything peculiar about his body. He looks like just about any other 40-year-old-ish Japanese man you know, with short black hair, an unassuming face, and semi-formal clothes that are quite loose on his not-buff but not exactly thin body either.

But to your surprise, it’s him that the hilariously huge guy from earlier directly reports to.

“Pro-hero Dynamight, sir, as you requested. And…” the ‘escort’ trails off, and for a split second, you feel kind of sorry you’re here and making things complicated for him. “…he brought company.”

“Finally,” the plain-looking man pipes up from his seat, and even his voice is generic. “And here we thought you were never going to come meet us.”

Placing what suspiciously looks like a glass of whiskey on the table in front of him, the man shifts to fully regard Bakugou. “I see that you’ve deciphered the messages we’ve been sending you?”

“No shit,” comes Bakugou’s blunt response, and for a beat, you seriously consider using your quirk on him to make him calm the fuck down.

You decide against it.

To your chagrin, he drones on. “Y’all gotta do better. That was barely even a code.”

At that, the old male barks out a laugh while the plain-looking man only chuckles. “Of course, we expect nothing less from the #2 pro-hero. But…” the latter trails off, eyes finally landing on you. You quickly put on the most endearing smile you can muster, suddenly regretting not touching up your makeup upon sitting earlier. Thankfully, though, he smiles back, before redirecting his focus back on Bakugou.

“I see you brought precious cargo. Is there any reason why she’s here with us?”

“We want in your organization,” Bakugou replies without hesitation. “The both of us.”

And when none of them say anything in response, Bakugou presses.

“You need me, right? I heard you’re planning an attack. I want to join.”

“Yes,” the old man finally speaks up, not even denying it yet his voice is riddled with misplaced humor. “We do, in fact, need you. But what use do we have of this girl?”

“She’s got a useful quirk,” Bakugou supplies, before turning to look at you and then back at them. “Luck. She boosts the success rate of anyone she works with.”

“Luck?” the old geezer says back so incredulously, you feel your eye twitch in annoyance. If he only knew what you were fully capable of. He can’t, though, if you want to get out of this entire situation alive. “I don’t think we’ll need that as long as we have you, boy.”

“Well, tough luck,” spews Bakugou, a little bit too sarcastically for your comfort. “Because, as I’ve told your little lackey here,” he gestures to the definitely not little guy from earlier, “It’s both of us or I’m out.”

“The both of you, huh?” muses the plain-looking man who’s seeming to be more and more like the leader of the group by the second.

Once again, silence envelopes the room when none of them utter a single word, with you and Bakugou watching in anxious (you) and impatient (him) anticipation. You observe their facial expressions as they have a wordless exchange, and judging by how the ancient and the robotic girl are looking at the ordinary man, you guess your hunch about him is right.

Eventually, they appear to reach an agreement, and the leader adjusts just enough to look at the both of you directly.

You brace yourself with bated breath.

He flashes you a modest smile.

“It’s a deal, then.”

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @sugurusmoon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses | @junehasnotbeenfound @sugalarity @haechansbbg @sikuthealien @reiniella3 @ita606 @xoxoblueyy @mutsu422 @eyesforbkg @kalulakunundrum @venus-xxoo @lemuhr @pinkpantheris @ashers-playpen @bakugouswh0r3 @certaindreampost @3ve88 @tsumuus @4acoffee @anonymity-222 @lousypotatoes | @matchat3a @harryzcherry @h0nestly-though @cc1306 @gold24fish @bakukags @zennypiee @wannabewolf @kameko-ko @lovra974 @arc6021 @kooromin @surprisemodafakas @ilovedenk-i @st4ntwic3 @j1tterbugaboo @call-memissbrightside @arael-asuka @bakugosgothhoe

[henrioo]

WHY IS SO FUCKING HARD PUT A "FEM" IN FRONT OF THE "READER"???????

NOT EVERYONE IN THIS FUCKING SITE IS A FEM OR USES FEM PRONOUNS YOU DUMB BITCH

NOT EVERYONE WANTS TO READ HALF OF A HISTORY ONLY TO GET A FEM NICKNAME OR A FEM PRONOUN THAT YOU TAKE OFF YOUR ASS

JUST PUT THE FUCKING FEM READER YOU ASSHOLE YOU NOT GOING TO DIE IF YOU PUT THREE FUCKING LETTERS IN FRONT THE READER

IS SO FUCKING HARD DEFENDING SOME AUTHORS BECAUSE THEY CONTINUE BEING DUMB

SOME MASC PEOPLE HAVE A FUCKING DYSPHORIA OR THEY DAY RUINED BY THAT

YOU WON'T LIKE IF WAS A MALE READER WITHOUT SAYING IS MALE, THEN PUT THE FEM READER BECAUSE WE DON'T LIKE EITHER

[batbabydamian]

BATMAN AND ROBIN (2023) #14 by Phillip Kennedy Johnson and Javier Fernandez! rambling about the new team and arc!! a jumping-on point for anyone wanting to read recent Bruce and Damian comics 🦇🐥

setting the stage with action!! mystery and intrigue!! expectations for further character exploration for Damian!!

if that's not enough to pique interest, here's a rendition of one of the many cute grumpy Damian panels

first of all THE OPENING ACTION SCENE OH MY GOD (this splash page hello!!)

i love...the collaborative effort in comics...it shines through right from the start, especially when it involves traditional inks 😭

using this single panel as an example from Fernandez’s ig:

Fernandez lays out most of the groundwork in his inks - the fully inked silhouette of the driver in the foreground, the shading suggesting the lighting, the white ink/paint lined and splattered for the rain!!

then off to colors with Marcelo Maiolo!! he elevates the panel to emphasize how it's a shot from within the vehicle looking out the windshield - the lightly tinted inks, the bright lighting from headlights, and the slight window sheen + bokeh!!

one more similar example, with comparison by the man himself - Fernandez already implying the glare, scraping white against Batman and Robin's silhouettes. then punched up with Maiolo's colors/lighting!! WOW!!

OKAY SORRY ONE MORE along with Steve Wands’ consistently lovely lettering, Fernandez included his own sfx in his inks of this page!! not sure how often he does it past this, but SO cool!! ever since seeing Juni Ba's sfx lettering in his inks, it's such a sick extra detail to me 😭

ANYWAY i can go on about what i love about each panel for this scene but gotta move on from the explosive intro of Batman and Robin to the more grounded side of Bruce and Damian (which ends up being just as explosive)!! 🥺

there's small details carrying over from Williamson's run like Bruce making Damian vegan meals and Damian creating comics; otherwise, we have a much more engaging writing of the two almost reminiscent to Tomasi and Gleason's run!

one example being his attitude towards a fancy event interrupting his and Dick's patrol in Batman and Robin (2009) #20

the first line from Bruce and Damian's disregard for a fundraising event is a bit of head scratcher to me when Damian is plenty compassionate, BUT for the sake of a jumping-on arc for new readers it’s a clear point of reference for Damian’s character - a kid who believes more in Batman and Robin work than what could be done outside of those masks. it becomes a matter of how Damian's perspective might change around this subject and how he'll take action in helping outside of Robin 🤔

another similar Tomasi-esque moment is Damian's snark about his grandfather lol, a sentiment that carries over from Batman and Robin (2011) #1

PKJ references his Ra's al Ghul story from Gotham City Villains Anniversary Giant! especially curious when the final line by Talia is "...you will see my father again", when Ra's is currently dead. a fun lil callback or also a convenient nod to future plans? 👀

NOW THE MYSTERY AND INTRIGUE OF IT ALL...

Bruce's attention is caught by this man shouting "You sit atop the wheel" which i'm guessing is in reference to the Wheel of Fortune, especially if we're going by a literal interpretation of the rich and poor (depicting the group among tents and carts).

i'm really reaching here, but wondering if Bruce calling himself “Jack” at some point is also related to the arcana. the only relation i could find is the Page of Wands, and the Jack once being referred to as a "knave"

EDIT: an anon reached out to inform me that Bruce called himself “Jack” during his training! seems to be first introduced in Batman: The Knight (2022) #4

THE REVEAL OF THE NEW VILLAIN, MEMENTO...the first page opens on a deceased person's face, and the last dialogue is "We will see your face again." AND OH BOY WE CERTAINLY DO! 😭

the flames casting a harsh light against the plaster (or stone??) of Memento's mask, and how he looms over Bruce...SO EERIE...

FINAL RAMBLY THOUGHTS

Damian being colored with noticeable melanin...🥺 i can only assume this was a deliberate choice made by PKJ since the editors haven't changed, and for the past issues Damian's colors have been independent to the colorists - the only edit being after Rex Lokus gave him green eyes in #5 but were returned to blue in #6 (for consistency ig). along with the classic teen asian haircut, this feels intentional on PKJ's part and i hope Damian will continue to be colored brown here and other books 🥺👉👈

one of the things PKJ teased in an interview was the idea of Damian wondering if he even wants to still be Robin, much less Batman (begging this is where main canon Damian gives the Batman mantle up lol). so presenting Damian here as someone absorbed in that life makes me wonder what triggers those thoughts - is it going to be this incident or later? more currently, will Damian be able to protect the civilians that Bruce entrusted him with? especially after getting familiar with a few, however reluctantly?

anyway, a banger first issue that leaves you with just enough crumbs to know what you're expecting but still beg for more: what's the mysterious new group/villain, and their connection to Bruce? will Dr. Bashar and the Wayne grandparents have more to do with the story? how will this all affect Damian outside of being Robin? Talia and Ra’s?? so many questions!!

[sayoneee]

☆ POISON

“miss her, kiss her, love her, wrong move you’re dead, that girl is poison” - bell biv devoe (2.2k)

contains: luke castellan x daughter of aphrodite! reader. acquaintances to friends to secretish lovers. silena + drew mentions. during tlt.

kashaf’s note: u cant tell me a group of teenagers lived together at summer camp and no one had secret parties. dont @ me for the 90s music references (+ i imagine avantika vandanapu as silena, and momona tamada as drew)

i. and if there was a problem / yo, i'll solve it

“CASTELLAN?” YOU APPROACHED him slowly, tone cautious as if you were speaking to a wounded animal, although in this case, maybe you were, as you reached for his bruised knuckles, remaining persistent, even as he tried to withdraw his hands out of your grasp. “why’d you do that?”

“did i need a reason?” there is a forced jocularity to his words, a well-practiced mask he is never seen without, and you cringe slightly, your gaze catching the grimace that twists his lips. his attempt at a ‘roguish’ grin falls flat, the expression a discordant note against the backdrop of his injuries. luke’s already busted lip splits open, a thin line of crimson carving a river down his chin. he moves to wipe it off the back of his arm, but you’ve already pulled off the bandana tying up your hair (a birthday present from a half-sibling) and begun rubbing at his face.

luke’s eyes widened at the gesture.

despite being tentative acquaintances since your arrival, you’re still annoyed that luke castellan continues to underestimate just how much of his heart he wears on his sleeve — or rather, just how well you manage to see past his facade. his blatant lie hangs in the air, unacknowledged. instead, you deliberately shift your gaze to the purples and blacks that mar his knuckles, setting about wrapping them with your bandana, obscuring the damage.

“i could’ve done that myself,” luke says, amused, his words lightly appreciative. still, at your answering glare, he tosses his hands in the air in surrender as ‘ice ice baby’ continues in the background, uninterrupted, “but thank you, though.”

“i’m no apollo kid, but it’ll do,” you shrug instead of accepting the gratitude, tugging him to his feet, ensuring to grab his uninjured hand, and hauling him outside. 

“you’re no apollo kid, and you decide to take the injured man away from where the apollo kids are actually gathered,” luke muses, once again entertained with himself (was there any other emotion this boy could experience besides amusement?), once the lights of the apollo cabin are so far behind you, neither of you could fully see each other.

“you’ll live,” you say, scowling at him through the darkness, forgetting he couldn’t actually see you.

“and you’re moody for a daughter of aphrodite,” he says, still holding onto your hand as he trails after you.

you stop in your tracks, pinch the bridge of your nose, count to three, and finally turn to luke, who still has his stupidly pleased-with-himself expression on his face. “luke castellan, if you don’t end up dying of some tragic fate or the other i will hunt you down myself.”

“duly noted.”

“holy hera, do you even want to know where i’m taking you?”

“nah, i think the mystery really adds some suspense.”

“that’s it, i give up,” you say, before beginning to drag him back to the apollo cabin, when he plants his feet in the dirt ground firmly, grinning crookedly at you as the moonlight finally shines through the clouds, suddenly bathing him in a luminescent glow.

“nah, c’mon, let’s go to your spot.”

you glare at him, watching how his stupid grin only seems to grow in size, an annoyingly endearing trait. with a sigh, you continued to drag him along, scowling each time he tried to make a quip.

“what if we get to your spot, and i find out this was all just a ploy to murder me?” luke muses out loud, looking thoughtful for once.

“do you seriously believe that if i was gonna murder you, i wouldn’t have done it by now?” you say, pausing when he shrugged in agreement, “we’re here though, whiney baby.” 

luke’s eyebrows rose as he took in the secluded area near the dunes, finally meeting your gaze again. “aw, i can’t believe you just planned out our first date.”

“i seriously don’t know what any of my half-siblings see in you.”

“so you’ve discussed me then.”

“shut up, i dragged you all the way here, because even though i know you like attention, i don’t think you wanted the attention you were getting from punching that poor hephaestus kid in the jaw,” you say shockingly sincerely, startling both yourself and luke.

luke doesn’t say anything, letting what seems like a confession hang in the air, instead, sits down near the water, and rubs a hand across his jaw, watching you as you follow suit, sitting next to him. 

after spending what seems like minutes in silence, watching the waves lap at the shore, luke finally speaks, staring out at the horizon, his tone slightly hollow, and devoid of all things you have come to label as luke castellan, looking eerily similar to the night he had returned from his infamous quest, “heroes aren’t meant to be happy.”

you drew your legs to your chest, wrapping your arms around them and resting your head. “i know — achilles, orpheus, theseus…” you trail off.

“and hercules,” luke adds, almost melancholy. 

“i think i’ve pretty much accepted i’ll die young,” you say, your words coming out in nothing but a whisper despite the two of you being alone.

luke nods in solidarity, lost in thought. “it shouldn’t have to be like this,” he finally says, voice hardening.

ii. talking sweet and looking fine / i get kinda hectic inside

“okay, for this technique, i’ll need a partner,” luke says, looking straight at you. “can you come up here?”

deciding to oblige him, you rolled your eyes good-naturedly, smiling as you joined him in front of the other campers, who had begun whispering when he called out to you. in the crowd, just past your half-siblings looks of shock, you can see the stolls passing around a wad of cash. 

luke addresses the crowd once more, “i need everyone to be paying close attention here, we’ll be demonstrating how to parry, or counterblock for the newcomers.”

as both of you get into position, luke smiles, “don’t forget to go easy on me.”

you laughed, “don’t bet on it, castellan.”

your demonstration ends up feeling like eons, as the two of you continue to dance around each other, parrying and jabbing, and lunging, and striking, and parrying. both of you are panting, your faces flushed as you continue, and just when it seems like you have the upper hand, luke side steps, and easily parries your finishing blow, disarming you in the process.

you laugh as you yield, loving the exhilaration from the fight, but when the two of you face the campers once more, more than half of the crowd is slack-jawed. 

luke, ever the showman, can’t resist a grin, “not only was that your lesson to not underestimate aphrodite cabin, but also to show you the level we’re trying to get you guys to. now, partner up and spread out.”

before you can turn back to address luke again, drew is suddenly at your side. 

“what the fuck was that?” drew hisses, grasping your elbow and leading you away from the training session in full swing, pulling you into your cabin, where silena sits on your bed (still in her armor), clearly awaiting this impromptu confrontation.

“what was what?” you choose to feign innocence, examining your nails before glancing up to see the twin expressions of horror on both silena and drew’s faces. 

“do not act dumb,” drew eyes you coolly, “it’s so beneath you.”

“i’m not acting dumb,” you rolled your eyes at the both of them.

“yes you —”

“you and castellan,” silena interjects, “we want details, now.”

“what details even are there to give?”

silena grabs drew’s arm, pulling her back from apparently nearly pouncing on you. 

drew rolls her eyes at the hand on her arm, and then focuses on you, “you’re literally our next head counselor and you and castellan had never so much looked at each other until this week and now he’s asking you to help demonstrate training techniques, like hello?”

silena snapped her fingers in agreement, “c’mon, you can’t deny that something didn’t happen.”

“nothing did,” you crossed your arms across your chest.

“you know what,” drew says, “if you wanna be like this fine. come find me when you finally decide to — i don’t know — talk to your sisters?” she storms out of the cabin, leaving you alone with silena, who sighs, gives you an apologetic look and goes after drew. 

“well, that was a shit show.”

you whirl around to see your head counselor standing at the entry of the cabin, poised as ever, not a hair out of place as she stood, examining her manicure, looking bored, as usual. 

“couldn’t agree more,” you sigh, sitting on your bed, head in your hands. 

your head counselor takes a seat beside you, “look, i don’t care for whatever petty drama just unfolded, you’ll get over it, daughters of aphrodite and all,” she waves a hand in the air, “— but for now, we have more pressing issues. i’m gonna leave for college soon, and the entire cabin knows you’re my successor.”

you nod as she paused, meeting your gaze, and you can’t help but examine the perfect shape of her eyeliner, scanning her entire picture-perfect face in an attempt to discern her mood.

“i don’t care whatever it is you have going on with castellan, but you need to complete the rite of passage, before you become head counselor.”

“the rite of passage?” you asked, having only heard the phrase in hushed conversations around camp, the knot in your stomach tightening as she continued.

“no child of aphrodite is a true child of aphrodite without having broken their first love’s heart,” is all she offers as an explanation, completely straight-faced. “castellan is perfect for your rite of passage.”

your eyebrows furrow as you consider her words, and with a final nod, and gentle squeeze of your arm, she leaves you with both her legacy and your mother’s legacy in your hands. 

“oh, and before i forget, whoever doesn’t do it always ends up cursed.”

iii. now let me pray to keep you from / the perils that will surely come

luke’s shoulder brushing against yours has turned out to be extremely distracting, and now you can understand why your cabin is more notorious for breaking hearts, rather than falling in love. you can’t seem to focus on anything except how close his hand is to yours, even the golden hue of the fire or the sing-alongs can’t divert your attention. 

the distance between the two of you grows imperceptibly smaller when luke suddenly clears his throat, on the verge of saying something, when a twig snaps behind the two of you, causing you to jump apart and look at the intruder. 

annabeth is standing behind the two of you, looking faintly apologetic, but also terrified. “sorry if i interrupted you guys,” she offers, rubbing her arm.

you share a glance with luke, nodding at him. “you weren’t — luke can always talk to me later,” you say, offering her your trademark smile.

annabeth nodded, “thank you,” as luke gently squeezed your hand before getting up to comfort her.

“don’t thank me, sweetheart.”

you’re at your usual spot when luke rejoins you, running a hand through his curls. “sorry,” he says, “someone left a spider in athena cabin, and no one could kill it.”

you chuckled, “if it wasn’t a total accident, i’d bet money it was travis and connor.”

the corner of his mouth quirks up at the mention of his siblings, “i think you’re spending too much time around them to pick up on their habits.”

“or maybe, i’m spending too much time around you,” you offer, smirking at him, trying to ignore the funny feeling in your chest as he smiles genuinely at you.

“i like to say i’m an acquired taste,” luke shrugs, sneaking a glance at you as you laugh at him. 

“i think i’ve acquired that taste,” you say, without thinking, before realizing how phenomenally stupid that sounded.

luke smiled widely, “y’know, if you weren’t a daughter of aphrodite, i would’ve told you how corny that was —” you shoved him here, “— ow, let me finish, but i actually am really glad to hear that.”

“no wonder,” you smirked, “i can practically hear your heart beating out of your chest.”

“okay, look who’s confident all of a sudden.”

you shut him up with a soft kiss that has him seeing stars. 

iv. i know what’s weighing on your mind / you can be sure i know my part

“again, what the hell is going on with you and castellan?” silena asks one early morning before breakfast, birds chirping as she’s lining her eyes with kajal, glancing at the mirror in her hand as she sits at the top of her bed.

“nothing.”

“i literally saw you guys making out and had to scrub my eyes out with soap,” drew adds, looking extremely disgusted at the thought of relieving that experience, as she paints a fresh coat of nail polish. 

“fine, you’re right,” you concede, curling your eyelashes. 

“don’t you have to do the rite of passage, though?” drew asks, pausing to look up at you.

“i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you say slowly, setting the eyelash curler down on the vanity.

“excuse me?” your head counselor has her hands on her hips, the annoyed expression on her face marring her perfect features, towering over you as she stands in front of your bed.

“i said, i’m not doing the rite of passage,” you enunciate, looking up at her, maintaining eye contact.

the temperature of the cabin seemed to drop ten degrees, and for a minute or so, your stare remained unbroken until she shrugged. “your decision... but don’t say i didn’t warn you,” before dramatically whirling around and heading to the pavilion.

silena gave you a look as drew arched her brow, and you simply shrugged in response.

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[frameacloud]

Some fact checks about plurality

The "Bible of psychiatry" is the DSM. In 1994, the DSM changed the name of Multiple Personality Disorder (MPD) to Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID). This was in response to a moral panic where critics claimed that the condition was fake.

The original and current diagnostic criteria do not require trauma for DID (or MPD) (DSM-III, p. 259; DSM-III-R, p. 272; DSM-5-TR, p. 331).

The international counterpart of the DSM is the ICD-11. Its essential features for DID do not require trauma, either.

Both books say that not all cases of multiple personalities are a disorder or a severe impairment. Psychiatry recognizes that medicalizing them is not always appropriate.

Plurality (or multiplicity) is a community umbrella term for many ways of being more than one person in a body. Psychiatrists who know enough about DID are aware of it. Plurality includes but is not the same as DID.

The community has always included plurals who formed for reasons other than trauma. Dividing the community by excluding non-traumagenic plurals and calling them fake is new. That only started in August 2014 on Tumblr, unheard of elsewhere.

When that started, a trauma-caused DID system created the word "endogenic." This means plurals who formed naturally rather than from trauma. The Lunastus Collective coined it in solidarity with them.

(Similarly, the coiner of another umbrella term, "alterhuman," is a member of a traumagenic OSDD system who supports endogenic plurals. The purpose of that word is for plural systems to unite with other sorts who differ from usual definitions of human individual, valuing what we do and do not have in common, instead of in-fighting about who is more legitimate.)

Community historian LB Lee gives several good reasons why-- as trauma-surviving plurals-- they choose not to call themselves "traumagenic" or divide the community by origins. If I may briefly paraphrase a couple of these: If you see suffering as your whole foundation of who you are, then you have a more difficult time envisioning a better situation. If you want others to respect you, a losing strategy is to put down people who are seen as similar to you.

Neither psychiatry nor the greater community of plurals see trauma history as an important distinction in determining whether someone is plural.

[teddybeartoji]

been thinking a lot abt fwb!gojo today.... this is his first time ever doing this kind of a thing btw. i do not think he sleeps around AT ALL. but with you, he just... you start off as very good friends but then it keeps escalating – you start sitting closer and closer, your thighs always touching as you lounge on the couch. his hands seem to always find your waist in public, your seem to be in his hair more and more. and the thing is... satoru isn't all that good at deciphering his own feelings. he isn't entirely sure what this is; the butterflies in his stomach whenever you laugh at his jokes, the warmth that spreads under his skin whenever he sees you bend over. it's weird. he doesn't know what to do.

so, when one night you inch closer with your hand on his thigh, he lets you. he welcomes you with open arms. you ask whether it's okay or not and he lets out a shaky yes, his cheeks burning with something new, his eyes low and heavy as he stares at your lips. you feel so good on top of him, your body flushes to his and he thinks about how perfect this is. how much he likes it. the night is like a wet dream for him, something he's always dreamed off but when you leave the bed and hop into the shower without giving him a kiss, he doesn't even know what the weight on his heart means. where it comes from. he doesn't ponder over it for too long though as you step outside the bathroom in a shirt way too big, his shirt. he watches you get dressed and hums when you joke about his bed hair. he thinks you look gorgeous. he doesn't ask for you to stay – if this is what you want, to leave without the desire to continue your adventures from the last night, then so be it. satoru wants you to be happy. you tell him it was good and that you'd like to, perhaps, do it again and he can taste you on his tongue when he says that he feels the same. satoru will take every crumb you'll give him with a smile on his face. he won't complain and he won't ask for more, not yet at least. for now, he'll be completely and utterly at your mercy, a lapdog for you to play with whenever you so desire to do. a selfless kind of love.

[becca-e-barnes]

Humour me while I scratch a personal itch: Your dad's best friend showing you how your body should be appreciated 😵‍💫

"Come on sweetheart, I know he's just not doing it for you." It had never been a secret that neither Bucky nor your dad liked your new boyfriend but you never imagined this would be the angle that Bucky would be taking to convince you to end things.

"That's none of your business! I'm not talking about this with you!" You're so stunned, you can hardly even get the words out. It's nothing short of mortifying to be talking about your sex life with your dad's friend, never mind the fact you've silently been interested in him since your dad introduced you a couple of years ago.

"You haven't tried to convince me I'm wrong though! You need to stop dating these boys, they're no good for you. They're not what you need." He almost sounds like he pities you and that doesn't sit right with you at all.

"You have no idea what I need." You roll your eyes in derision, unable to believe he'd be this bold.

"Don't I? I bet I could guess. He doesn't kiss you right. He never even dreams of letting the tip of his tongue press against yours and then take it from there. While he's kissing you, he's probably pawing mindlessly at your breasts. He doesn't know how to take it slow and work you up the way you need. He has no idea that rubbing you over your panties won't do enough for you. I bet he's never taken the time to appreciate every inch of you. When's the last time he kissed from your ankle to your knee? How often does he stop to kiss your forehead? Has he ever enjoyed every soft slope and curve of your body? Not just the obvious ones, I mean all of them. The curve of your shoulder or the softness of your hips or the firmness of your calf muscle. He doesn't even try. He's doesn't put the effort in for you." He sounds more upset about this than you thought he would and for a couple of seconds, there's nothing at all in your head.

"Show me how you think he should treat me." There's no point taking the time to think about the implications. You want to know how it feels to have your body safely in the hands of someone who knows what to do with it and this is a better time than any.

His lips barely graze yours at first and it makes you crave more of him. Everything in you knows this has to be a bad idea but his lips are so inviting and his hands are gently holding your waist in a way that makes you want him worse than ever.

The tip of his tongue begins to inch forwards and tentatively, you allow yourself to do the same. Your tongue meets his and rather than feeling overwhelmingly off-putting, the gentle, wet pressure is tender and romantic and intimate. Thrill bubbles in your chest because if this is what kissing is supposed to feel like, you have no idea what else he can teach you that you've never experienced before.

You find you're the one increasing the pressure, looking for more. God, you want this. Excitement buzzes low in your tummy and before you know it, you hear a moan that you can hardly believe came from you.

His hands are roaming the expanse of your back over your clothes, never once straying towards your ass or your breasts. It's too early for that and he knows it's not what you need.

He's enjoying this just as much as you are. He's taking you apart, piece by piece. He knows he's only got as much control here as you hand over to him but he's not taking this at the faster pace you're used to, no matter how you try to dictate the pace.

"You're such. An angel." He kisses down the side of your neck, cradling the other side in his hand. His lips are plump and slick and the sensation leaves you quietly gasping. "You don't know how you deserve to be worshipped. You're stunning."

He presses you back, letting you hop up onto the kitchen counter, massaging your calf muscles with his fingertips. You never thought that would do anything for you but seeing him appreciate each inch of you; seeing how he finds ways to extract a pleasurable sensation you've never been treated to before is breath taking.

"We're not jumping ahead of ourselves, but just to prove my point..." His fingertips trail up your leg, under the skirt of your dress and he checks you're okay with it before pressing the pads of his fingers to your underwear.

The thin cotton is soaked through under his fingertips, arousal making you almost dizzy.

"Good girl, look at you enjoying yourself! Bet you haven't been this wet in a while, have you honey?" He presses his fingertips to your lips, letting you taste your own arousal and your mind races at the thought of sucking it off his length later, something you've never wanted to do for anyone before.

[simping-acefully]

Ep 3 got me acting really unwise

Nsfw headcanons for Laios under the cut (gn unspecified partner for Laios)

Warnings: NSFWish, probably ooc, reader insert implied?, probably not very sexy because I used this for character analysis.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Laios is very attentive, though he's also very insecure when it comes to engaging with others. So I imagine he'd be a little clumsy, though very eager to provide the best aftercare for his partner. He's also very cuddly.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

The favorite part of his own body are his hands. They are strong and calloused, and he's used them to protect others and to create new stuff! (Aka, cooking) the fact that those hands can also help him please a partner is a plus.

On a partner? Probably lips. I imagine Laios struggles to read people's facial expressions (the 'tism go brr) but seeing his partner's smile is reassuring. He also really likes running his thumb over them and maybe getting his fingers nibbled.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He cums a lot.He has tasted his own cum out of curiosity in the past, too. And if he had a partner that ejaculated or squirted he would be delighted to taste it all.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He has probably jerked off to thoughts of his partner before they get together and it's eating him alive :(

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Zero experience, lots of book knowledge though! He's confused but he's got the spirit. Will need some leading at first, but he's a quick learner and is curious enough to experiment and try new things once he's gained confidence.

As an ace myself, I like to think that Laios is either ace too, or has a low drive and thus, sexual intimacy is a matter of doing something intimate and unique with a partner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position that will allow him to see his partner's face for smooching! The emotional intimacy is the most important part for him.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He tries to be serious to the point he's almost uptight. But his clumsy and eager nature ends up organically devolving into somewhat goofy intimacy.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

The carpet matches the drapes, but this man keeps it all natural because ?? Why would he waste time/energy on such things??? (Aka, he's not used to grooming the area, but he would do an effort if asked)

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Very!! The main driving force for the act. Laios is constantly kissing and checking with his partner. He loves them so much and this is a physical way to convey those feelings!

He holds hands with his partner, kisses their face and neck and tries to keep them as close as possible, the mental image of melting into a puddle together comes to mind.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Doesn't do it often, but when he does it's more of a thing of connecting with his own body than getting rid of any urges. He won't be able to get off unless he's in a good mood.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Has a wee bit of a praise kink that he doesn't fully understand.

Shibari is one he wants to delve into, too. There's something to be said about the artistry of the knots, and the feeling of compression can be quite comforting.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Probably his partner's bed. He shares a room with Falin, so intimacy on his place is a no-no. He doesn't particularly enjoy motels or inns either because he feels kind of self conscious/pressured to perform within a time limit. He was to take things slow and he wants to cuddle to sleep afterwards, dammit!

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

I think his biggest driving force is an emotional connection. He craves to be understood and loved, so feeling that coming from his partner will make him want to show his appreciation in a physical way.

Probably jealousy is another good way to make Laios seek out his partner. He wants reassurance, to kill any doubts in his mind and any lingering feelings of inadequacy.

Also adrenaline too! Sometimes when the blood is pumping, his mind wanders. If he and his partner just were in a situation of danger, the physical reminder that they are there, alive and safe will make him desperate to feel them.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Doesn't like/understand degradation, and wouldn't do anything that he felt could hurt his partner.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He prefers to give, and lives for pleasing his partner! He's not very skilled at first, but he's very observant and receptive, so he gets the hang of what his partner likes even if they do not say so themselves.

However, after getting head himself, he's hooked. He loves it, he loves the look on his partner's eyes and the physical feeling is overwhelming on the best possible way.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Usually slow and sensual, unless he just had a life or death situation with his partner, then he's desperate and anxious.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not one to really go for quickies, but if he's on the rare mood for one, he'll be sure to get and give lots of affection.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Laios would be interested in trying everything at least once. He's curious and inquisitive, and just as he is fascinated by monsters, he's fascinated by his partner and wants to learn what turns them on, and see what also works for him

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Stamina for days! He can last one very long round. If he didn't get sleepy and cuddly afterwards, he could probably do more, but hnnnggg comfy

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He doesn't own toys, but if introduced to them he's up for trying pretty much anything, both on himself and his partner.

I can see him growing particularly attached to non-human looking dildos/strap-ons and ropes.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He's not much of a tease, but he low-key enjoys being teased. He doesn't seem to understand it, or be fully aware of the fact, but yeah.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Not particularly loud out the impulse to self restrain, but Laios is a whiner. He can get pretty loud when he's about to cum though.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would love to roleplay as a monster with their partner but when he did bring up the idea he got laughed off and passed it off as a joke. It was not a joke.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

I like to think that it would kind of mimic his silhouette, length slightly above average and overall on the thicker side. The widest point is right after the head.

Not very high at all. I kinda imagine Laios on the gray sexual spectrum so, it only becomes a thought after he begins pining for his eventual partner. It starts with him wondering how soft their hands would be, how about their neck and lips? And it eventually escalates to wandering thoughts of intimacy.

Once he does become intimate with a partner, he longs for intimacy more than he longs for sex itself.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

VERY. He's an eepy man.

[dontforgetukraine]

Comic by Mariam Naiem

I like to spend time with friends one-on-one. But lately there are three of us. [The silhouettes of the speaker and friend in each scene, except for the first, are always accompanied by a large humanoid shadow looming over them and listening in.] --- "In case something happens, finish my book, okay?" [my friend asked of me as we sat together] "Ok," [I said while the shadowy specter sat next to my friend.] --- "I don't have any plans for afterwards," [my friend in the military said as the specter stood behind them and we looked to the horizon.] --- "How are you?" [I asked as we knelt on either side of the flowers.] "Good! I went to the cemetery and laid an equal amount of flowers to all three of them." [The specter knelt behind my friend.] --- "I don't see my life after the war," [my friend in the military told me from across the table. The specter loomed over them and reached to touch them.] --- "I am sick of this! WHO ARE YOU? We didn't invite you," [I said, confronting the specter. It towered over me.] --- "Yes, you did not," [it acknowledged, revealing a scythe in its grasp and presenting a slip of paper to me.] --- 24.02.2022 INVITATION from Russia.

Text in brackets were added by me for accessibility purposes to help transcribe and describe the comic.

[springwitch8]

flowers and firsts (melissa schemmenti x fem!reader)

summary: being the gracious friend you are, you offer to share your weed with melissa and jacob for a fun friday night at their place. when jacob goes to bed, things get heated between you and your favorite coworker.

warnings: smut (18+), consensual high sex, recreational marijuana use (be responsible), strap-ons, praise kink, vibrators, soft melissa, stoner reader, attempts at comedy (it's a fun fic guys), mario kart 8 GONE SEXUAL

notes: happy 4/20. this wasn't requested, but my OCD is beating the fuck out of me rn and writing it brought me comfort. let me know what you think. much love from your favorite slutty stoner 💚

"i know kids are curious, but eighth grade is a bit early to try weed, right?" jacob bounced his leg anxiously as he raised the question to his friends in the teachers' lounge. one of his students had just been suspended for bringing marijuana to school, and jacob was characteristically worried about the kid.

"i started in tenth grade, but teenagers are growin' up younger and younger these days," melissa responded. barbara raised her eyebrows in shock, and melissa reacted with an amused half-smile. "like trouble over here. when was your first time, hon?"

you tried to ignore the innuendo as melissa invited you into the conversation. you had been hired to teach the third grade a few months ago. you and melissa had a rapport from the first moment you walked into the lounge. every time you were in a room together, you made each other laugh. melissa made you feel at ease in your new workplace, and you felt lucky to have her.

because you both got along so well, ava often paired you up for team-building exercises and combined-class activities. the two of you weren't exactly close friends yet, but you had chemistry. that much was obvious to everyone at abbott.

"tenth grade for me, too," you answered between sips of your morning coffee. "a friend and i did it in the bathroom before art class. good memories."

"what, did you have some kinda fancy vape pen?" melissa cocked an eyebrow at you.

"i wouldn't call it fancy, but yeah, we mostly smoked carts," you explained. "bought 'em from the upperclassmen in the parking lot before school. i'm pretty sure they weren't pure weed, though. we had to be smoking battery acid, or plastic or something."

"god, your generation is weird. smokin' chemicals out of a flash drive," melissa said, gesturing wildly to convey her amazement. "the first time i got high was in detention. my buddy steve would sneak in and bring us cigarettes and blunts. they all looked the same, so we played russian roulette with it. now everybody walks around with those neon devices in their pockets."

"i can't tell if you're being serious or if you're referencing the breakfast club," you giggled, nudging the redhead's shoulder jokingly as you sat down next to her.

"ha ha, very funny, little miss," melissa deadpanned. you had asked her to stop calling you "kid" a few weeks ago. she respected your wishes by coming up with all sorts of endearing synonyms to call you instead. "what about you, jacob? you used to vape—ever experimented with mary jane?"

"or mark john?" you added. melissa snorted and gave you a playful swat on the arm.

"no, actually, i haven't," jacob said, rolling his eyes at your quip. "i didn't have many friends in high school or college, and after that i had to be drug tested regularly for teachers without borders. i never got the chance."

"well, if you ever feel like trying something new, i have plenty to share," you offered. "can't have you over at my place, though; every time i bring guests around, my crazy neighbor thinks they're cia operatives."

everyone in the room except melissa gave you a shocked look. barbara looked especially aghast, her brightly painted lips curled into an 'o' shape.

"damn, i thought janine was the only after-school stoner here. what a pleasant surprise!" ava broke the silence.

"i suppose i would partake given one of those weed pens you mentioned," jacob said to you. "the only thing i've been vaping lately is air, and it gets stale after a while."

"oh no, i haven't used a cart since high school," you clarified. "if you're smoking with me, you're smoking. don't worry, it's easy. just like vaping, but better in every way."

"first of all, no smoke circle is happening under my roof without me." melissa chimed in, looking at you with a silent question in her eyes. you nodded—of course you wanted her there. "and second, where do you even get the weed? if you buy the legal stuff from new york or massachusetts, you're not bringin' it to my house."

"i wouldn't dream of it," you affirmed. "i only smoke authentic philly weed. don't worry about it; i got a guy."

---

that friday night, you showed up on melissa's doorstep wearing a casual t-shirt dress, with a tote bag full of goodies slung over your shoulder. jacob was the one to answer the door.

"hey! come on in, melissa's making pizza," he said cheerfully, a bit jittery with anticipation.

you followed jacob inside and found melissa leaning over the kitchen island, smiling fondly at you. she was wearing sweatpants and a loose-fitting striped shirt, with her hair loose and a bit messy from cooking. she looked radiant and comfortable.

"you know, the pizza will taste better if we smoke before dinner," you proposed.

"bold of you to assume my pizza could taste any better," melissa joked back.

"i'm game," jacob said. "i want the full marijuana experience."

"in that case, help me set up," you said to the history teacher. "i want you to see how everything works."

you laid the contents of your tote bag out on the island countertop: a ziploc baggie full of flower, a little purple grinder, a holographic pink bowl, and a yellow lighter with white flowers on it.

"jacob, this is a grinder," you said, uncapping the grinder and opening the ziploc bag. "we're gonna use it to break up the flower into little pieces."

"oh wow, that is... pungent," jacob remarked. he watched as you ground up the weed, then handed the pink glass bowl to him.

"and this is a bowl, or a pipe if you're lame," you said. "you wanna do the honors?"

jacob grinned and reached into the grinder, bouncing excitedly on his heels. you put a hand on his shoulder to steady him. he filled the bowl, looking to you for approval several times while he did it.

"awesome, we're ready," you said. melissa placed her pizza in the oven and joined the circle.

"let's take it out on the patio," melissa suggested.

she led you and jacob out to the patio, a small ledge overlooking the city with three chairs conveniently set up in a tight circle. it was 7pm and the sun had just begun its descent, casting philadelphia in an orange glow.

the three of you sat down. you held the bowl up to your lips and moved to light it, but melissa snatched the lighter from your hand. she leaned in and held the flame to the bowl, her face inches from yours. you tried to concentrate on the task at hand, rather than her painted lips or her vivid green eyes dancing all over you.

you took a long inhale of the smoke and blew it up toward the sky. melissa plucked the bowl out of your hand and took a hit. she held the smoke in her lungs for an impressive amount of time for someone who didn't smoke regularly. she passed the still-lit bowl to jacob.

as soon as jacob took his hit, you knew it was gonna hurt. he overestimated his own lung capacity, and he didn't even finish blowing the smoke out before he was coughing.

"happens to everybody, pal," melissa patted jacob's back to ease his pain.

"ugh!" jacob sputtered between coughs. "why didn't you guys tell me smoking hurts?"

---

several rotations later, the three of you were high. well, you and melissa were high; jacob was outright fried. not altogether unexpected, but funny as hell.

when melissa's pizza was done, you all resolved to eat outside so you could watch the sunset together.

"this is heavenly, mel," you moaned after a delicious bite of the pizza.

"ha!" jacob exclaimed, and you and melissa turned to him, confused. meeting melissa's gaze, he threw his arms up in the air—like he expected her to understand what he meant by that one noise. "she stole two syllables from your name. you can't just take syllables, y/n. they're not yours."

"since when do you care about private property rights?" you quipped back before turning your attention to melissa. "i'm serious though. this pizza is sooo good. like last-meal-on-death-row good."

"keep talkin' sweet like that, and you can call me whatever you want," melissa replied with a wink, sending a flood of warmth to your face.

"what were we talking about? just now?" jacob chimed in, his eyes wide and darting every which way.

"... i actually don't know," you said with a giggle. you tried to remember, you really did. but you could feel melissa's eyes on you, and you heard her words echoing in your head. and it was hard to focus on anything else.

"short term memory loss! add that to the list of things you guys didn't warn me about," jacob scoffed.

"jacob, eat your damn pizza," melissa cut in. a peaceful smile graced her lips as she stared out at the city skyline, now a twilight blue in the absence of the sun. "i've missed this feeling, everythin' all fuzzy and light. how are you holding up, lovebug?"

your heart fluttered at the endearing name. melissa, it seemed, wore her heart on her sleeve when she was high—judging by the adoring way she gazed at you while she awaited your response. maybe the weed was messing with your head, but you swore she'd never looked so beautiful.

her eyes lacked any trace of the fire you were used to seeing (though they were quite red). for once, she wasn't on guard. her plump lips curled around her wine glass as she took a sip of merlot, vocalizing her sensual appreciation with a hum.

her long auburn hair was tucked behind her ears, resting on her shoulders in loose waves instead of her preferred meticulous curls. you wanted to run your fingers through her locks, feel their softness and smell her shampoo.

entranced by the redhead, you forgot she had asked you a question. melissa tapped your knee in reminder.

"i feel perfect," was your soft reply. you were beaming brightly before the sentence even finished. rather than sitting in a chair, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. the colors of melissa's patio and the sky blended together in a beautiful, swirling mosaic. the sounds of the city were clear and pleasant as philly wound down for the night. "i'm so happy."

"glad to hear it, sunshine. but i'm pretty sure jacob is asleep," melissa chuckled and patted the man's shoulder. he didn't stir, remaining slumped and conked out in his chair. "he's been losin' sleep over the kid who got suspended. bending over backwards trying to keep 'em on track."

"oh gosh," you said sympathetically before patting jacob a bit more firmly than melissa had. "jacob, hey. c'mon, it's time for bed. get up, go get cozy."

your words were slurred and hushed, but they seemed to pierce the veil of jacob's slumber as he awoke with a start.

melissa stood behind jacob's chair, gently rocking it back and forth to bring him back to the conscious world.

"can't go to bed, we just started," jacob grumbled, but his eyes were still closed. he was dangerously close to falling asleep again.

"from the looks of it, you're either gonna spend the night sleepin' in this chair or in your bed, so get up," melissa said resolutely.

"yeah, and besides, there's always next time," you assured jacob as he stretched and groaned his way into an upright position. you made eye contact with melissa, and this time you winked.

---

after helping jacob into bed (his motor skills really deteriorated when he got high) and smoking another bowl together, you and melissa were ready to continue your night.

"alright, sweetheart, it's down to you and me," melissa said, sitting down next to you on the couch. "what do you wanna do?" you pondered the question, looking around the room for inspiration.

"oh my god, you have a nintendo switch?" you asked excitedly, gesturing to the black tablet plugged in next to the cable box.

"that's jacob's. he showed me one of the games on there—animal crossing, i think it was. i don't get it. why play a game if you can't win?"

"alright, i know what we have to do now," you said, walking over to jacob's game cabinet and pulling out mario kart 8. holding the case up for melissa to see, you grinned. "four races. whoever wins gets whatever she wants from the other."

you were distantly aware of the implications, but you were too high to reconsider what you'd proposed.

you figured melissa would want something from your thoroughly decorated classroom if she won. if you won, you'd ask her to make you a custom pizza.

"you have no idea what you just started, hon," melissa said with a confident smirk.

"may the best woman win."

---

how the hell was she so good at everything?

melissa had needed some time to warm up to the switch controls, complaining about how the little red rectangle was too small to hold comfortably. but she was a quick learner with skilled fingers, and soon she was absolutely demolishing you.

it also didn't help that your coordination escaped you when you were high. you had driven off of too many ledges to count.

"two wins in a row for luigi," melissa bragged as she crossed the finish line of the third race. "hope you're ready to give me whatever i want, princess. don't think i forgot about our bet."

"daisy won the first race," you pointed out calmly. "i can still bring it back. but you know what this last race has to be?"

"what?"

"rainbow road. it's the perfect final showdown course," you explained, navigating to the course with your controller.

"get ready to be mine for a night," melissa said lowly. god, you knew she was talking about the bet, but she knew damn well what she was doing. by this point your panties were almost uncomfortably wet.

you leaned into her unconsciously as the race countdown began. you both held your controllers tight, almost shoulder to shoulder.

3...

2... (you push down the gas pedal button)

1...

GO!!!

daisy took off with a boost of speed thanks to your timing. luigi had a false start as his engine blew out. you cheered, and melissa cursed.

"how the fuck do you do that?" she asked, exasperated.

"play the game!" you demanded without looking away from the screen.

the competition was intense. you and melissa weaved around curves, nearly fell off the road, passed and bumped each other. neither one of you spoke until lap 3.

coming up on one of the last turns of the last lap, your hands jerked and you swerved. reacting on instinct, you bent your arms dramatically in the other direction to overcorrect.

melissa's arm bumped into yours, sending your controller flying out of your hands.

"hey!" you said, thinking she was cheating.

"hey yourself," she said, her eyes still fixed on the screen.

if she was gonna play dirty, so were you. you thrust your arm forward to grab her controller. but she saw you coming from a mile away. effortlessly, she shifted the controller into her left hand alone and held it up and out of your reach.

desperately competitive (and stupid high), you launched yourself toward the controller. you'd stop at nothing to get even. before you could snatch it out of her grasp, though, your balance faltered. you fell out of your position and started to fall backwards off the couch.

melissa dropped the controller and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you back up before you could hurt yourself. there was only one problem with this heroic act.

you were in her lap now.

her hands remained clasped at the small of your back, and your balance shifted forward. you put your arms out for stability, and wrapped them around her neck.

"careful, don't hurt your pretty head," melissa cooed. the two of you stared at each other for a moment. she surged forward and pressed her lips to yours.

if sitting outside with her felt like floating, kissing her and feeling her body against yours felt like riding the ocean waves. but unlike the atlantic, she was warm. you relaxed into her warmth as her tongue licked into your mouth.

you felt her tongue everywhere. in response to her, you gave a few tentative kitten licks. she moaned, she moaned, and pulled back before giving you one last kiss on the lips.

she stared at you with heated eyes for a while before switching her focus to the tv.

"look, baby," she said smugly while gesturing to the tv screen, where luigi was driving victory laps after placing first on rainbow road. "i won. you remember what that means?"

it was a fair question, considering how many conversations you forgot happened tonight. still, you nodded shyly and bit your lip.

"smart girl," melissa praised. "can you guess what i want from you?"

you shook your head no with a frown. melissa beamed and kissed you on the forehead. then she leaned in to whisper in your ear.

"i wanna touch you everywhere. i wanna hear your pretty voice moan my name and see your face scrunch up when you come. i want you to feel me all over you, and i want you to spend the rest of your life craving that feeling," melissa said her piece all at once, as if revealing a long-buried secret to you and herself.

you swallowed.

"would you let me do that?"

you nodded, pressing your forehead against hers.

"i need to hear you say it," she said softly, so softly you almost missed it.

"i want you, melissa. i have since the day we met."

that was all the confirmation melissa needed to attack your face and neck with kisses.

"sorry, let me just," melissa said as she pulled away abruptly and reached for the tv remote. she changed it to cable mode and navigated to the jazz music channel. "there we go, perfect."

"you're ridiculous," you giggled upon seeing melissa's proud face.

"honey," she leaned in to nip at your ear before whispering, "watch your mouth. you wanna be on my good side tonight, trust me."

you shuddered and wiggled in her lap, aching for her touch. a slow grin spread across her face and her hands found your legs, running up your thighs and lightly dragging her nails along your skin. they soon made their way up your waist to your breasts, cupping and squeezing them. melissa even took two fingernails and circled your nipples teasingly, to which you squeaked.

"do you know how many times i thought about havin' you like this?" melissa whispered. her voice was sweet like molasses and flowed right through you. you could feel your nipples tingling where her fingers had been, swimming in a bubble of desire. "in my lap, all whiny and squirmy."

she pinched your nipple and you keened. you held your breath as her hands once again traveled to your thighs, making a beeline for your core.

"and now i got my angel in my arms," she said, gently spreading your legs for better access. you sucked in a breath and trembled when her palm caressed you through your panties. "but i gotta say, even in my imagination you were never this wet for me."

she punctuated the sentence by pressing her pointer finger on your clit through the fabric, drawing tiny circles. you gasped and hid your face in her neck. the high made every touch feel like it rippled through your whole body. the world felt like it had been knocked off its axis, and melissa was your new center of gravity.

"aw, don't be embarrassed, babygirl. it's cute you're so sensitive," melissa soothed, easing you out of the crook of her neck to face her again. she trailed her fingers down to swirl around your wetness under your panties. "let me take care of you, yeah?"

---

a few minutes later, you were spread out on melissa's bed, naked save for your (now useless) panties. she'd practically carried you to her room as you were baked and horny and unable to walk straight.

in spite of your writhing and needy whines, the redhead took her time to savor you. she kissed every inch of your torso before she even considered taking your panties off, mumbling sweet nothings between love bites.

when she finally pulled away to admire her work, the view did not disappoint. you were panting and covered in melissa's marks, and god, you were her favorite piece of art ever created. all hers.

"alright, sweet girl, i know," she cooed as you continued to plead for her touch with your best pout and puppy eyes. unable to resist you, melissa hooked two fingers in the waistband of your panties. "i'm gonna slip these off ya, okay? there, down they go."

melissa discreetly tucked the saturated material into her pocket. not as a trophy or proof of her conquest; rather, a token from the first of many magical nights with her girl. she would treasure it.

she wasted no time getting situated between your legs so she was face-to-face with your pussy. she inhaled deeply, basking in the heady aroma of your arousal. you overwhelmed her senses. everything she saw, everything she smelled, everything she felt, everything she thought—it was all one big, bottomless pool of you. and there was only one sense left for you to conquer.

the first drag of her tongue up your slit set you ablaze, flames licking from your core all the way to your extremities and your head. she let out a small noise of appreciation, and you felt it more than you heard it.

"you taste like fuckin' heaven," melissa rumbled between determined licks through your folds. her comment reminded you of the pizza, and you found yourself amused at how much things had changed in just a few hours.

"last-meal-on-death-row good?" you joked, and melissa seized the moment of levity to latch onto your clit. you cried out before remembering jacob was sleeping in the next room. you clapped a hand over your mouth.

"mhmmmmm," she moaned in agreement, and the vibrations on your bundle felt incredible. "but if you're still crackin' jokes, i'm not doin' my job."

with that, she shut you up completely. her tongue poked at your clit between harsh sucks. your back arched and melissa changed her strategy, prodding at your entrance with her tongue while her fingers took over on your clit. when her tongue penetrated you, you bit down on your hand to keep from screaming.

"i said i wanna hear you, remember?" melissa pulled out to chastise you.

"but jacob—" you managed.

"is passed out. he's dead to the world. now sing for me, angel," melissa's tongue dove back into your weeping cunt and lapped at your walls. you wailed her name.

"oh, mel, right—ahhh—there!" you mewled as her tongue teased your most sensitive spot. now that she'd located her target, melissa changed her play once again. two fingers replaced her tongue and crooked into your g-spot while her mouth returned to your clit. "close..."

melissa nodded her permission, her mouth busy with your button. with another hard roll of your clit between her lips and drive of her fingers into your sweet spot, you fell apart. you moaned and cried unbidden as she worked you through your orgasm, which felt twice as powerful thanks to the intoxication factor. your body shook in the grip of seemingly endless waves of heat.

your climax eventually died down and you squirmed away from melissa's touch. your mouth opened in dismay when instead of staying by your side, she stood up and disappeared into her closet.

after a short while, the older woman reappeared by your side. she was now nude and sporting a long, girthy strap-on. she placed a few other items on the nightstand, but you couldn't tear your eyes away from the thick faux cock. unless it was to look at her gorgeous tits, which swung with her every move. she was a goddess.

"okay, sweets, i'm gonna spell this out nice and slow because i know your brain is a little messy right now," she said as she crawled on top of you. "i'm gonna fuck you with my strap. and i know it's so big, but i have this to help you take it."

melissa reached over to the nightstand and retrieved a green mini wand vibrator. her intentions were clear, and you gulped. the redhead peppered kisses all over your face in reassurance.

"now relax, little love. let me in," melissa instructed as the wand buzzed to life. she smeared your wetness around your clit with her fingers, then pulled back its hood to position the vibrator tightly against your nub. even the lowest setting was a shock at such a direct angle.

while you were distracted trying to adjust to the clitoral stimulation, melissa aligned the tip of the dildo with your entrance and pushed in. you both groaned, and you felt yourself stretch around the toy. melissa turned up the vibrations on your clit as she progressed to being fully seated inside you.

"that's a good girl, so brave," melissa cooed. you thrashed underneath her, the sensations overstimulating you. the pain of the intrusion staved off a powerful orgasm from the wand vibrator.

again, you wondered if the drugs were messing with your mind—the dildo felt indistinguishable from a part of mel's body, and you were full to the brim of her.

as she began to rock her hips back and forth, you saw her bite her lip. you assumed that the strap had some kind of clit attachment for her based on the telltale signs of pleasure.

melissa built up a steady rhythm and drank in your pathetic sounds of pleasure. her tits swung in your face with every thrust, and you made a mental note to give them proper attention next time. with another tactical increase to the wand's speed, you felt yourself approaching the edge once more.

"you gettin' close? yeah, i can tell. feels too good to hide it, huh bunny?" that was a new one. you clenched at her words and she set the wand to its maximum power, rubbing it up and down on your clit. your vision went white and you spun out of reality as you came. "that's my girl. good little princess, coming so hard for me."

with a few more thrusts, melissa also came to a release. she shuddered and shimmied her hips at random while she rode it out. as soon as she recovered, she turned off the green wand and relieved you. next, she eased herself out of and off of you.

with a chaste peck to your lips, she sat upright and reached for the nightstand. she smiled at your fucked-out expression as she laid out the pajamas she'd picked out for you.

you watched in awe as she took off the strap and put on her own sleep clothes. her red hair was wild from the night's activities and glowed like a warm hearth against the white backdrop of her walls.

in your state, you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up with melissa and fall asleep. but she insisted that you get ready for bed so that you'd be comfortable through the night. she guided you into the bathroom and gave you a new toothbrush to use.

returning to the bedroom, you found a silky green nightgown with flowers on it waiting on the bed for you. given your exhausted and intoxicated state, melissa had to help you into it. neither of you minded. as a reward for your cooperation, she gave you a kiss.

the two of you snuggled into bed, tucked in together with you curled up against her chest. the tides of slumber lapped at your feet.

"g'night, lovebug," melissa whispered as you drifted off. "sleep well. see you in the morning."

and tomorrow would be the first of a lifetime of tomorrows waking up in her arms.

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

imagine being a shy little intern at jujutsu high and getting the fattest crush on gojo because he’s just. so strong and cool. you idolize him. you want to be his friend. and he seems to take a liking to you; he’s cheery and encouraging and sweet in a roundabout way. you feel like you’ve grown pretty close to him.

imagine him falling asleep right next to you on a sofa in the cafeteria. you can barely tell, with his blindfold still on. but you scurry away to find a blanket, happy that he trusts you enough to rest in your proximity, ready to wrap it around him —

only for it to slip right off. rejected by his infinity.

(he never turns it off, around you.)

[pizzacade]

Clara Oswald's guide to the Twelfth Doctor,

From the Companion's Companion, a book written by Clara to inform the next companions, with information from her, and previous companions.