#sleep disorders au

[drawbauchery]

violently launching through my computer to hug and support the FUCK out of you

[echoflowerwhispers]

He fell asleep in standing again

[unagidevi]

DREAMSLEEP INTRODUCTION

Nightmare - Harrow Deskin + Main Character/Protagonist

Harrow plays the role of 'Nightmare' in the Dreamsleep storyline. He's a dark brunette with blue eyes and eyebags. He uses eyeshadow to emphasize his 'tiredness' (he has eyebags, he just think it's cool to add eyeshadow under his eyes).

His middle name isn't ACTUALLY Sleep, but back in the old story both in 2021 and 2017 he was called 'Sleep' and was a MAJOR mary sue.

Going back to his story, he's a 'good guy'. He's a trainee sorcerer, going on a fantasy quest with his brother who plays the role of Dream and is the antagonist. He's a magic human, and as humans and sorcerers are uncommon in the setting of Dreamsleep it makes it hard for him on the way!

The quest for him is to 'find the important things'. However, that's just normal things like compassion, respect, and jazz. But he also finds ' ' the bad sanses ' ' on the way, when here they are called 'The Disorder Band' or just Disorder Band.

I'm working on the story, on chapter 2 and once I finish that chapter it'll start it's way on AO3. I'm trying to make sure I have the storyline, characters, and roles.

Sadly, there is on character not based on any sanses and his name is Tobias Harrison; I just really liked Beetlejuice so I made a ghost guy that goes into the disorder band for haha funnies.

I should probably put out there, there is also Women, Men and Non-binary people here.

Him and 'Dream' don't have such a close relationship as they did in the past, as the Ink of the realm is manipulating Dream to get HER (yes her) way.

There used to be three endings but I want to keep it on just one track. Though the three endings were: Netural, Bad and Good. I just thought it was cool if Cross killed Dream in the end back in 2017 so I kept it in 2021 but now there's only going to be Good. He has a deceased father (plays the role of nim), and an unknown mother(unknown) so his grandmother(neil?) takes care of both him and Dream.

His height is 5'7, the story starts at the age 18 and goes on from there, depending on how long the story goes on for he could be 22 by the end of it.

I might make a post related to everyones facts if you want more Dreamsleep and when I'm finally done creating sketches and posts for these sillies but for now you'll just get the rundown.

Here's some sketches:

[aftgficrec]

Hey! I love your page and getting fic recs! Do you have any fics where Neil goes or agrees to go to therapy? I’m good with Bee or someone else as the therapist too. It can be canon or an au. Thanks so much! :))

I was pleasantly surprised by how much we found for you! -A

previous recs:

‘another life to live’ here

‘Oakland’ here (completed)

‘you’ve been locked in here forever (and you just can’t say goodbye)’ here (updated)

‘If it means protecting you (I’ll pay my dues)’ here (updated)

‘Interlaced’ here (updated)

‘Regrowth,’ ‘To Be Close With You Is To Be Close With Myself,’ ‘I took a breath and took the knife,’ and ‘flashes of intimacy’ ch 4 here

‘call me in the afternoon’ here

‘The Wild Fox Den’ and ‘Roses Grow Between Bone’ here

‘(My Heart) Pierced By a Pin’ here (completed)

‘The Sun Still Rises’ here (updated)

‘day by day’ here

‘the shuffling of cards’ here

‘Ain’t it fun’ here

‘Breathe, idiot’ here

‘Healing’ series part 1 here, part 3 here (completed)

‘The Fear of Being Known’ here

‘That one party’ series and ‘keep telling me that it gets better (does it ever?)’ here

‘Affection can be shown in so many ways’ here

‘Ghost of You’ here 

‘Make This Leap (Geronimo)’ here

‘Tenuous’ here

‘There is Nothing You Can Say’ here (completed)

‘of ice blue eyes & twisted veins’ here

‘don't break the glass’ (completed) here

‘Bad Apple’ here 

‘Phantom Pains’ here

‘Therapy’ here

‘Birds of a Feather’ here (updated)

‘In which Neil had Aspergers and Andrew finds out.’ here 

‘For You I'd Bleed Myself Dry’ here (updated)

‘I Wanna Get Better’ here 

‘on the tip of my tongue (say something)’ parts 6 & 8 here

and more:

‘Ember’ here (completed)

‘leave the room (with a little dignity)’ here

‘Art Hoe’ here

‘Blame It On My Youth’ here (updated)

‘Black as is the Raven, He’ll Get a Partner’ (here)

‘Our body’ series, part 1 here, part 3 here, part 5 here

‘and all the roads will disappear’ here

‘crossed out’ here

‘Double Trouble’ series here

‘i had a dream (where you couldn't hear me screaming)’ and ‘hold me close, in fact bury me’ here 

‘Just closed eyes with nothing behind’ here

‘doubt thou the stars be fire’ here

‘SCAR TISSUE’ here

‘Lighter Fluid’ here

you may also like:

‘The Sound’ here

historians by cielalune [Rated M, 21508 Words, Complete, 2023]

He remembers when she didn’t smell of ash, but perfume. The times they’d play the radio to fill the quiet of the car, and she’d hum along. How she never missed a single exy practice, and cheered for him each time. She wasn’t all too different from Cass in the end. Just because she was dead didn’t mean she was buried. Five times Neil tries to come to closure about the person Mary Hatford was, and the one time he accepts who she came to be.

tw: heavily referenced child abuse, tw: heavily referenced rape/noncon, tw: heavily referenced csa, tw: heavily referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: sleep paralysis, tw: depressive episode, tw: flashbacks with blood & gore, tw: panic attacks, tw: dissociation, tw: victim blaming

Mommy Dearest by chronically_peach [Rated G, 915 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil doesn’t talk about his mother much but Andrew knows it’s a touchy subject for the redhead. After a session with Betsy Neil admits he’s been thinking about his mother and allows Andrew a glimpse into who Mary Hatford really was.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Pain of a Forgotten Face series by Rose_vine [Collection, 2 complete works, Updated 2021]

Part 1: Pain of a Forgotten Face [M, 3086 Words] Neil Josten is awoken by a face in his nightmares from twelve years ago, a face he barely remembers. When he tries to brush it off and go to practice, he realizes too late that some memories refuse to let themselves be forgotten.

tw: ptsd, tw: panic attacks, tw: nightmares, tw: hallucinations, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: blood/gore

Part 2: A Hand to Hold Me Back From The Cliff [Not Rated, 2132 Words] After Neil collapses on the court from a flashback from when he was younger, Andrew convinces him to go to therapy. This is his first session with Bee, and it is only Andrew at his side that gives him the strength to walk through the door.

tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

After the Beep by kanekei [Rated T, 1030 Words, Incomplete, Updated Sept 2023]

Neil works through his relationship with his dead mother by leaving her voice messages that she'll never hear. It’s healthy, Bee says. He can’t help but think having the Minyards as patients has skewed her perception of what that word means. The number you have reached is not available. Please leave your message after the beep.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced violence

The Foxes by akaashisramen [Not Rated, 3386 Words, Incomplete, Updated July 2023]

Trans Neil is on the run from his father and goes to his uncles house. His uncle promises him protection and allows him to play Exy as long as he goes to group therapy to process his mothers death.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: graphic nightmares, tw: implied/referenced torture

someday, we'll grow by nopunintended [Rated G, 2078 Words, Complete, 2021]

Andrew and Neil see Betsy for a couple's therapy session per Andrew's request.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

Couples Therapy by P0tatonoah [Rated T, 2014 Words, Complete 2020]

I got a lot of comments (like 3 or 4) on my breakup fic asking for a part 2 where Neil and Andrew patch things up and live happily ever after… This is not it. But you can read it as an alternative ending if you want. 

tw: implied/referenced nonconsensual touch, tw: implied/referenced violence

NB: find P0tatonoah’s andreil break up fic ‘Home...?’ here

They sicken of the calm, they who know the storm by EdgySpaghetti [Not Rated, 3162 Words, Complete, 2023]

After storm there always comes the sun. People born into the storm, who growing up sees only black clouds and lightnings striking everywhere, just learn how to live with it, how to protect themselves from cold, wind and rain. They recognize the pattern, know that lightning will struck sooner or later and are prepared for it. What are those people to do when there is no more dark clouds? They don't know how to live in this environment, how to dress to not get too hot and how to prevent potential sunburnt. They never had to do that before. They're still expecting the lightnings.

tw: ptsd, tw: anxiety, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: anger issues

Can I finally stop running now? by gracefromspace [Rated T, 12110 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil is intrigued by a blonde baker with piercings, two therapy cats and strong arms.

tw: heavily referenced torture, tw: flashbacks with blood/gore, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: anxiety, tw: negative self image

can't blame it on my youth by PoolToast22 [Rated G, 2650 Words, Complete, 2022]

The one where Neil Josten is Fine TM. But he's also in therapy. And today Bee decided to ask him that question.

hold on to happiness by minyarday [Rated T, 551 Words, Complete, 2020]

"self esteem had never been something Neil cared about. when you are a runaway that don't even have a place to call home, you learn to prioritize certain things and forget others" only that now he has the time to think about it

I'll Come Back To You by mostly_maudlin [Rated T, 6900 Words, Complete, 2022]

Some of the things he’s learned today feel like stories about someone else: Neil switched to playing striker at a tiny high school in Arizona. Aaron lives in Chicago with his wife. Andrew’s cousin calls Neil every Tuesday, because Andrew is too stubborn to pick up the phone himself. But other things are clear truths, even if they’re more abstract: Neil’s mother died. Andrew is safe. Neil was supposed to stay, but part of him is gone. - - - - It's about dreams, reality, trust, patience, and determination. It's about making promises and keeping them. You'll figure out the rest.

tw: car accidents, tw: major character injury, tw: implied/referenced violence

I will help you swim by unojonex [Rated E, 11699 Words, Incomplete, Updated Oct 2022]

He’s slowed down, stayed in one place for more than a few months and it's all caught up with him. In his sleep, ghosts of his past haunt him. And they have no mercy. Dreams and imagination swirl together in a confusing mix of nightmares that don't go away, even when he's awake. -- basically Neil and Andrew getting together while also dealing with a lot of trauma

tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: implied/refererenced torture, tw: heavily referenced child abuse, tw: suicide ideation, tw: graphic nightmares with blood/gore, tw: dissociation, tw: hallucinations, tw: panic attacks

But Touch My Tears with Your Lips by transjorts [Rated M, 4070 Words, Complete, AFTG Mixtape Exchange 2022]

Andrew is sitting across from him, expression neutral, fork in hand. He’d dragged the tinnes across the plate—purposefully, if Neil had to guess. Andrew has already cut the burrito up into tiny pieces and spears one morsel on the fork, lifting it to his mouth. “Hi,” Neil says. Andrew chews, very deliberately. “Do you feel better?” Neil frowns. “What?” Andrew eats another bite. “Did all that running make you feel better?” Neil sighs and glances down, noticing that his water has been refilled. He takes a sip. “No.”

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced sexual assault, tw: nightmares, tw: dissociation

let's just sit awhile by artiest [Rated M, 17291 Words, Complete. 2022, Locked]

Neil and Andrew don't have to keep fighting for their survival. They can settle now. It's hard, but they're trying. OR: During Neil's second year in Palmetto State, him and Andrew learn to take care of each other.

tw: severe mental health issues, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced torture,  tw: nightmares with blood/gore, tw: flashbacks,  tw: dissociation, tw: violence, tw: homophobia, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced csa, tw: vomit, tw: alcohol abuse/alcholism

I could never give you peace by freshtaylorswiftduck [Rated T, 3407 Words, Complete. 2022]

Neil has both bad and good days. Today is a bad day.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: panic attacks

10 tips to stress less, without the tips by lumos_max [Rated T, 5404 Words, Complete, AFTG Exchange Fall 2020]

A lonely Neil lets his therapist bully him into checking out the clinic's support group without too much fuss, but little did he know he wouldn't be checking out the group that day, instead meeting a dramatic hunk of a man who drives a fancy car and forgets to wipe the cream off the corner of his lip. It's only fair that Neil tries to do it for him, right?

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse

“God, I have my father’s eyes.” by perks_of_being_a_writer [Rated T, 673 Words, Complete, 2022]

This is based on Family Line by Conan Gray. In this short story, Neil is at a therapy appointment where he and Betsy dive into his parental issues. This covers Neil’s abuse from both parents (because, yes, Mary was abusive and a bad mother). This is Neil learning that it's not his fault his parents hurt him and accepting that he is loved.

tw: implied/referenced child abuse

"There's blood on my/your hands." by markonasurface (idwir) [Rated T, 4667 Words, Complete, 2018]

The year after his 19th birthday, the other team decides to recreate the bloody locker scene complete with a ‘Happy Birthday, Jr.’ Instead of stuffing everything down, Neil has a complete freak out and sinks into a depression.

tw: suicidal thoughts, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: ptsd, tw: major depressive episode, tw: homophobia, tw: disordered eating, tw: vomit

Nothing is Safe series by hismiley16 [Rated T/M/E, Collection, 7 complete works, Updated July 2023]

Parts 3 and 7 recced here

Part 4: Written On His Skin [Not Rated, 11344 Words] The Foxes face the Ravens for the first time since Riko's death and things go as well as expected. Andrew is mildly injured on the court and isn't there to protect Neil when the new Evermore captain comes for him after the game. The team sees more than Neil ever wanted them to, including the ghost of Nathaniel he thought he'd buried in Baltimore.

tw: vomit, tw: bullying, tw: nonconsensual touch/assault  tw: dissociation, tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: blood, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced murder, tw: implied/referenced animal death, tw: implied/referenced self harm, tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon

The Josten Anxiety Method by orphan_account [Rated M, 1721 Words, Complete, 2022]

Neil talks to Bee about his anxiety.

tw: anxiety, tw: hallucinations, tw: dissociation, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Looking in the Mirror Never Felt so Good by Trimorphia [Rated T, 8693 Words, Complete, 2023]

Neil Josten's journey to becoming a real person.

tw: nightmares, tw: panic attacks, tw: implied/referenced abuse

Achilles Come Down by infernalstars [Rated M, 5017 Words, Complete, 2020]

Neil Josten was a liar before he was anything else. In the nest, sometimes his choices were between lying and dying. He’d had a decent amount of self preservation that he’d chosen the former. But now, being free, the world felt so heavy. He wished he’d chosen dying.

tw: graphic depictions of violence, tw: graphic suicide attempt, tw: self harm, tw: blood, tw: eating disorders focus, tw: ptsd, tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: vomit, tw: depression 

prompt: Neil x therapy bullet fic by @sadboyayeron [Tumblr, 2020]

[box-architecture]

I discovered that Communication Knife AweSamDrunz have Children Now today, and I’m loving everything I’m reading so far.

Also that they hang out with Sapnap, Philza, and Techno. Was not expecting that, but yeah, Dream would want to reconnect, wouldn’t he? Even if it make Sam Uncomfortable and Punz Salty.

aaaaaaaaa I'm glad!!! The kids are sort of separate from the main au in that they're not really the main focus, they're just something that occasionally makes me happy to rotate in my mind. Healed, happy characters who are extremely neurodivergent, with their weird neurodivergent children, able to exist contently.

also, yeah!!! I realized a while back that I haven't really talked about the relationships and conflicts or Anything with real consistency on this tumblr. I'm used to interacting with people in the discord who've already had to listen to me so many times yell and rant that I've forgotten that I. might need to give context actually to other people who have showed up to a person on a soapbox spouting nonsense.

short answer: yeah, theres a Lot of complicated feelings, but by the time the children are in the picture its been like a decade and peace has been made with most things. No one has forgotten, of course. Shit was fucked. But events keep happening, characters keep developing, and Dream cradles his happy ending with the people he got to keep so very close to his chest.

So its like! Techno will support Dream through thick and thin and be civil with his partners, Punz and Sapnap had some rough moments but are buddies, and Sam will never talk to Dream's friends about anything deep, but after years of him genuinely trying to be a good partner, Techno and Sapnap are no longer five seconds away from trying to murder him.

Long answer: I'm trying to pull together some posts that will give detailed explanations of this entire thing. Itll take a bit, but its infinitely easier than the full fic I was trying and failing to write. I'm pulling this timeline from an old post so it might not be completely up-to-date even with my edits, but this is some skeleton stuff I can give that will make things easier for Understanding probably. I'm very sleepy. Here you go.

Timeline for My Own Damn Convenience:

Shady Dubcon Prison sex w/ SamDream

Prison Escape

Gentle Recovery sex w/ Drunz

Dream decides he has major control issues and is going to fuck Sam to prove he isn't traumatized. Punz thinks this is a terrible decision.

AweSamDrunz sex, complete with a rulebook of things Sam isn't allowed to do (including giving or receiving kisses)

Quackity kidnaps Drunz similar to in the one cut lore thing, offers to let Punz go if they torture Dream (they stab Quackity instead)

Sam rescues them (without Q finding out) and then kidnaps them, where he ties up Punz and gets Dream kisses until they all eventually pass out (Dream gets mild medical attention)

Dream wakes up and unties Punz

SamDrunz has a talk and decides Sam is allowed kisses again

many kinks are discovered

Sam tries (and fails) to get a hobby

Sam builds +30 prisons/boxes/sex dungeons around the server, of various usefulness

Sapnap finds out about the Torture, sees the sex tape, assumes Dream can't consent to the relationship considering Sam was his warden and Sap thinks Punz betrayed him, and takes Dream to a cottage away from everyone to try to protect him. After Sapnap yells at SamPunz, Dream gently informed Sapnap he's going to continue the relationship, and they have an emotional reconciliation that leads to weeklyish meetings between Dreamnap where they can just sit and talk

The Snow Incident

Sam Recovery From The Snow Incident

Oh God The Egg Is Back (Sam locks up Punz and Dream in a bunker for a month out of terror, and doesnt tell them why because he knows it will stress Punz out and Dream could be an idiot and get himself Egged. Punz is pissed but can't argue with that) (Dream could have fixed this all with his admin abilities good god)

They actually deal with the Egg

An Incident Happens (but its like several incidents actually, including Tubbo finding out that Ranboo was working with Dream the whole time)

Failed Finale

Recovery

Eventually grow old and live in a nice little lush cave house called The Box that Sam made

[waitineedaname]

wwx has bipolar disorder I know this in my heart

[loopspoop]

Chapter 15, :D! It’s here! Goemon’s having some residual trauma issues from his time with Momochi and his diet due to sensory issues with food when he notices something dangerous is taking place! How will this impact the story? >:3 just you wait

TW: panic, passing out, lack of self care, sleep deprivation, starvation, disordered eating, general self neglect from Goemon

Days later, Goemon made his way through the woods surrounding the house. He had recently taking to getting up early and making breakfast for the others before leaving to spend the mornings outdoors. His current routine could be called…neglectful..by some, but he found that his current conditions could help push his limits in training. It was a good thing! Not that the others would understand…he was already getting comments about the bags under his eyes.

He was doing it for them more than he was for himself. Spending nights awake with Jigen through bouts of insomnia and helping Lupin through nightmares and pain flares..and he was technically saving food…even if he wouldn’t have eaten it anyways. But they were low on supplies and he was one less person to worry about, not that they knew he wasn’t eating. They hadn’t brought any money from past heists so shopping would be a problem, and more than usual, considering they were wanted not only by the police but also by anyone that may be looking for Lupin.

The samurai sighed, rubbing his face quietly as he leaned against a tree. It was…unusually warm today. Maybe he would head back early. He could start on lunch and..maybe a grocery list. He could budget for some food for himself hopefully. Turning, he made his way back to the house. Passing through bushes and under trees, he stumbled from time to time on stones under his shoes, though he would blame it on the unfamiliar terrain and not the fatigue catching up to him. Losing his footing on a surfaced root, Goemon stumbled again before falling onto his hands and knees. Panting, he rested his forehead against the cool grass and waited. Maybe staying like this for a few minutes would be alright….

~~~~~~

When he opened his eyes again, Goemon knew some time had passed. He must’ve dozed off, it seemed much later than just mid-morning…maybe mid-afternoon? Damn…he stood, frowning at the slight tilt in his peripheral vision as he began walking again. Whatever, he was alright. He didn’t need to nap on the grass. He didn’t need breaks. He was sure he was needed at home..he didn’t want anyone worrying about him taking too much time out. Breaking through the trees, Goemon froze, growing pale as his eyes widened. Someone was walking through the front door and into the house. Not anyone that was supposed to be there. Fujiko and Zenigata had gone shopping…Lupin and Jigen were in there alone with this person.

An assassin? A scientist?

A threat.

Goemon grabbed Zantetsuken from his side quickly, sprinting from the trees and to the porch. Bursting through the door hard enough to knock it from its hinges, Goemon unsheathed Zantetsuken, eyes wild as he search for a threat. He had to make sure no harm came to Lupin or Jigen. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if something happened.

“JIGEN-! JIGEN, SOMEONE’S HERE-!” He cried, tunnel vision taking over as he lunged for a figure stepping into view in the doorway.

“Jesus, fuck!” Jigen grabbed his hat, scrambling backwards as he held his Magnum tightly. “Goemon, what the hell?!”

“Someone- someone’s in here-..!” Goemon gasped, stumbling slightly as he grabbed for the doorframe as his vision tilted.

“Shit- shit-! Lupin! Lupin, I need your help-!” Jigen quickly caught the samurai as he fell, lowering him onto the ground carefully. “Lupin!! Damnit, get in here!”

The thief quickly slid into the room, eyes widening as he got down on the ground beside them. He glanced at Jigen, moving Zantetsuken away from Goemon as he searched his face worriedly. Why the hell did he look so bad? He wasnt all shaky and pale this morning…he looked so worn down.

“Jigen-?” Lupin glanced at him again, brushing Goemon’s bangs back worriedly.

“Elevate his legs while I check the house. He said someone got in here.” Jigen frowned, grabbing his gun as he quickly went to search the house.

“Fuck..” Lupin bit his lip anxiously, moving Goemon’s head into his lap as he propped his legs up carefully.

Goemon groaned, closing his eyes tightly as his hands shook. The room was spinning which…wasn’t great for his hunger induced nausea. He wasn’t supposed to have Lupin babysitting him. Someone was inside the house and he was supposed to be protecting him! He shakily fumbled for the hilt of Zantetsuken. He needed to make himself useful!

“Goemon, hey.” Lupin took his hand gently, frowning. “Take it easy, alright? Jigen’s got it handled. What’s the matter with you?”

“I saw him…” Goemon mumbled, frowning deeply as he held Lupin’s hand firmly. “He’s inside..”

“Who’s inside?” Lupin frowned, glancing around nervously. “What did he look like?”

“Nobody.” Jigen walked back in, shoving his gone into the waistband of his pants. “Nobody’s here. He must’ve been seein’ things.”

“I saw him-!” Goemon sat up quickly, grunting as he held his head. “He-He walked in through the front door-!”

“Jesus, Goe, lay down!” Lupin pulled him back down, frowning. “We didn’t hear anyone come in and we were right in the other room…”

“All we heard was you runnin’ in here like a bat outta hell.” Jigen crossed his arms. “What’s the matter with you?” He got down on the ground beside him, frowning as he looked him over. “You’re seein’ things and passing out-“

“I did not pass out!” Goemon snapped, cautiously managing a glare at the gunman. “I fell! And I didn’t imagine anything either!”

“Guys!” Lupin frowned, getting between them. “Can we tone it down?”

Jigen sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “When’s the last time you slept? Or ate? Because right now you’re lookin’ like you haven’t done either in days.”

Goemon closed his eyes, frowning quietly. “…I’ve been handling it.” That was all they needed to know.

“Handling-?…God, damnit, Goemon!” Jigen huffed angrily. “You’re scarin’ us half to death with neglect induced hallucinations for trainin’ purposes!!”

“I-“ Goemon cringed, hesitating. He thought he could’ve handled it…

“Jigen, enough.” Lupin looked at him sternly. “That’s enough.” He could tell it was going to get way too heated.

Jigen grumbled angrily, sighing as he rubbed his face. “Go see if you can find an apple or somethin’ for him. We’re gonna have a chat.”

“Jigen.” Lupin looked at him warningly.

“A calm chat! Jeez…” Jigen held his hands up placatingly, frowning.

“Mmm…if I hear any yelling there’s gonna be a long conversation in your future.” Lupin warmed, petting Goemon’s hair gently before going to search the kitchen.

Goemon and Jigen stayed quietly for a few minutes on the ground. Jigen was trying to think of a way to start this conversation that wouldn’t result in him yelling, which…was posing more and more difficult as he tried to formulate a plan. Goemon had scared the hell out of him, not to mention the obvious lack of self preservation the guy had AND making Lupin worry about someone breaking in to get him. Goemon, however, wasted no time in starting for him.

“…I apologize…” Goemon sighed, biting the inside of his cheek quietly.

Jigen sighed, leaning against the wall as he propped his left leg over his right knee. “I don’t even know where to start with you right now. What the hell were you thinkin’? That we wouldn’t notice? You can’t just keep doin’ this to yourself and call it trainin’!”

Goemon turned his head away from Jigen, frowning. “…it…wasn’t for training purposes…”

“Then what? What was so important that you took it this far?” Jigen crossed his arms, frowning at the lack of response after a moment. “I’m waintin’, Samurai.”

“…I didn’t want to make any extra trouble for any of you..”

Jigen hesitated, peeking out from under the brim of his hat at the samurai quietly for a moment. Extra trouble? Was that how he regarded this? His needs were extra trouble for them? What the hell…?

“I’m…gonna need you to elaborate, man.” Jigen frowned, leaning forward a bit.

Goemon laid quietly for a moment, chewing on his lip nervously. “..We should be focusing on Lupin’s recovery.”

“We can focus on both, y’know?” Jigen watched him quietly, glancing toward the kitchen.

“I can go without the sleep to help him during the night…and the food when we run low.” Goemon turned his head back toward Jigen, opening his eyes for a moment. “My needs-“

“Are just as important, damnit!” Jigen snapped, crossing his arms. “We can take shifts sleeping, Goe. We can get you food-“

“With what money? We have limitations here. I..have limitations. And my limitations are not your burden to shoulder. They are mine. And if I can’t conquer them then I will rise above and use them as training.” Goemon frowned, sighing softly. “I’m not going to make any trouble for any of you when the focus is supposed to be on Lupin.”

“Jesus Christ, Goe.” Jigen frowned deeply, eyes wide. “Is that what you think of all this? Fuck, listen. We can get you food you can eat. It’s not that big of a deal. Worst comes to worst I can go rob a bank or some shit. Everyone here deserves to be taken care of. Would you want any of us starvin’ if it was you Lupin’s place?”

“….no…I wouldn’t.” Goemon mumbled softly.

“Exactly.” Jigen took his hand carefully, squeezing it when he felt Goemon rub his thumb along his knuckles to soothe his anxiety. “But we can’t have any more of this, alright? I’m old enough to be havin’ heart attacks, and it doesn’t help when you nearly smash your face against the doorframes, got it?”

Goemon nodded faintly, frowning. “I’m sorry..”

“Don’t apologize, okay? I’ll take care of it. We’ll take care of it..” Jigen assured, kissing his knuckles softly as he glanced toward the kitchen.

Lupin walked back, smiling proudly. “I found an apple for you, Goe. It should help. Did we sort everything out?” He sat back beside them, propping Goemon’s head up on his legs carefully.

“Yeah. I need to make a call. You two stay here.” Jigen stood, walking into the other room.

“What’s that about?” Lupin tilted his head, handing Goemon bits of cut apple carefully.

“…I’m not fully sure..” Goemon frowned, eating the apple slowly. It..felt a lot better than being hungry.

“Better?” Lupin smiled softly, stroking his hair gently. “I have a second if you want me to get it.”

“It’s better, thank you..” Goemon slowly looked up at him. The spinning was dying down…

Lupin smiled softly, nodding as he played with his hair gently. He wasn’t sure what all was said…but he could always ask Jigen later. Hopefully it would all be alright soon…

~~~~~

“What the hell happened to the door-?” Fujiko frowned, stepping past it as she walked into the kitchen.

“Goemon.” Jigen sighed, grabbing the grocery bags from her.

“What’d he break the door for?” Zenigata cocked an eyebrow, putting some food into the fridge.

“He…said he saw someone come inside and it really freaked him out.” Lupin frowned, biting his lip.

“Someone got inside-?!” Zenigata grabbed his gun quickly, frowning.

“Chill out and keep it down!” Jigen huffed, frowning. “He hallucinated it.”

“‘He hallucinated it’?” Fujiko frowned, looking back at him. “We left for an hour, what the hell happened?”

Jigen sighed, stacking boxed food in the cabinets. “..he hasn’t eaten or slept much in the past couple of days. I’m guessin’ his blood sugar got low or somethin’…either way, he ran in here like a bat outta hell ravin’ about someone comin’ inside and then nearly bashed his face in on the doorway.”

“Oh, my god.” Fujiko frowned. “Is he alright?”

“He’s resting.” Lupin nodded. “Found something for him to have to eat and then we made him go rest..” he felt pretty bad about it.

“He felt like he was askin’ for too much…havin’ us get food he can eat.” Jigen frowned. “Of all the bullshit…where did he learn some asinine shit like this from?”

“Momochi.” Lupin frowned. “You know how he was with Goemon. That’s why he feels like it’s too much. He wasn’t allowed to have wants, never mind needs.”

“Well, we’re not gonna just let him go on like this. He’s gonna start takin’ care of himself.” Jigen frowned, crossing his arms as he leaned against the counter.

“Obviously.” Lupin smiled. “We’re going to help him.” He sat at the table, leaning back in his chair.

“And…you’re sure nobody got in the house?” Zenigata frowned, stashing the grocery bags in a junk drawer.

“I checked every room. Nobody gets past me.” Jigen glanced over at him. “He had to have hallucinated it.”

“Good.” Fujiko nodded. “Last thing we need is anyone finding us out.”

The group continued their conversation, sitting around the table as Goemon rested on the couch. Despite the belief that the figure entering the house was a hallucination, a lone figure listening in was confident that his position wouldn’t be found out at any point by any of them…at least…not until he decided he wanted to show himself.

[snowe-zolynn-rogers]

Moon: So why did you adopt him? I understood Lunar, but Eclipse?

Monty: Listen, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation for me adopting Eclipse.

Moon: Get on with the explanation then.

Monty: Okay, so he’s human. He has food insecurity, and anxiety, and even worse abandonment issues, and he’s basically been sleep deprived and nearly starved for a month. They’ve been shocking him enough he had a seizure and literally almost died, stopped breathing and everything.

Moon: …Okay, he can stay.

[starry-skies-116]

Drops this pile of headcanons on everyone because my new hyperfixation is Psychology~:

Me at the MCI Squad and their siblings “You know what, I like you!” (makes them all weird and wonderful ND’s because we love those peeps):

Cassidy: OCPD, Autistic, and Hypercalculia (Sensory Processing Disorder, some textures are just garbage for her :'D)

Andrew, Cassidy’s twin brother: Histronic Personality Disorder (HPD), Autistic, Hyperlexia- is nearsighted so he wears glasses.

Gabriel: ADHD (Primarily Hyperactive), Dysgraphia, Dyslexia.

Zuri (Gabriel’s younger sister): Fibromyalgia, Autistic (semiverbal), Lactose Intolerance, Eczema.

Dorothy (Chica Masked Tormentor, Gabriel’s older sister): ODD (Oppositional Defiant Disorder), Anxiety, Insomnia.

Jeremy: Autistic, ADHD (Combined Type), Seasonal Affective Disorder.

Susie: ADHD (Innattentive Type), BPD, Hypochrondria.

Samantha (Susie’s fraternal twin sister): Chronic speech impediment/stutter, antisocial personality disorder, OCD, misophonia (later develops PTSD).

Fritz: ADHD (Combined Type), NPD, Narcolepsy, PTSD (due to childhood trauma/SA occurring in earlier childhood)

Charlie: Autistic (fluctuates in between semi-verbal and hyperverbal), Anemia, Atelophobia.

Plus our three favorite siblings:

Michael: Dyslexia, Synesthesia (chromesthesia and lexical-gustatory), Misophonia 

Evan: Schizophrenia (Schizoaffective, accompanied by Bipolar Disorder), Autistic (goes either nonverbal or hyperverbal with a LOT of stuttering and slurring when stressed), BPD

Elizabeth: ADHD (Combined Type), Anxiety, Atelophobia (my girl have you heard of Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria being stacked on top of that? It’s the worst /gen).

(all Afton kids and MCI gang later develop trauma disorders, with most of them developing some form of PTSD or C-PTSD. Rip to my children *continues to rotate them in mind like a roasting meat kebab over an open flame anyway* </333).

[cryptidclaw]

Yo bro you good?

Yesss sorry I haven't responded to ur Swift post, my adhd brain got distracted by the many tasks of the day and the Swift boy got lost in the chaos that is me mind

I will read and respond to it tomorrow i promise <33

[iztopher]

thinking abt how i was like "man i wanna write canonverse te'ijalahad i miss writing canonverse te'ijalahad" and then i took a week and a half long sabbatical from all my other ongoing projects to do that, but the fic contradicts my own personal headcanons about them so i still haven't written anything for MY canonverse te'ijalahad

[oceandolores]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐝𝐚𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐫 | masterlist!

Dbf! Joel Miller x female reader

"God loves you but not enough to save you,"

summary: In the small town near Austin, Texas, you are trapped in a life of rigid expectations and silent suffering. As the preacher's daughter, you endure the mental and physical abuse of your father while your mother, bound by obedience, offers quiet love. Your longing for a father's warmth finds an unexpected solace in Joel Miller, your father's best friend and neighbor. In Joel's presence, you discover a forbidden sanctuary, where your yearning heart is met with a gentle strength you've never known.

warnings: 18+ only, Minors DNI, AU, No outbreak. (TW) mentions of substance abuse/alcohol use disorder, adult content, religion abuse, violence, blood gore, mentions of death, sexual abuse, sexual content, domestic violences, ped0ph!l1a, cann1bal!sm, human traff1ck1ng, dad's best friend!Joel, HUGE age gap (i will not specify her exact age, but she's legal and Joel is 49), daddy issues, mentions of toxic family dynamic, Joel is widowed, Ellie is 16, angst, smut A LOT, forbidden relationship, soft and protective Joel, innocent and pure reader. your last name is Gibson. any other details will be explain throughout the story. inspired by the album Preacher's daughter by Ethel Cain and also mix with lana del rey vibes.

𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐩𝐡

❝ to my love, Joel.

,...found you just to tell you that I made it real far, i never blamed you for loving me the way that you did.

while you were torn apart, i would still wait with you there.

don't think about it too hard, honey. or you'll never sleep a wink at night again.

and don't worry about me and these green eyes,

baby, just know that i love you. and i'll see you when you get here.

i love you forever, Joel... ❞

THE PLAYLIST! (on spotify)👰🏼‍♀️

the preacher's daughter ▪️ dbf! joel miller

MASTERLIST!🐇

Chapter 1: "But I always knew in the end, no one was coming to save me,"

Chapter 2: "Because that's how my daddy raised me,"

Chapter 3: "I watched him show his love through shades of black and blue"

Chapter 4: "He looks like he works with his hands, and smells like Marlboro reds,"

Chapter 5: "Because for the first time since I was a child, I could see a man who wasn't angry,"

Chapter 6: "Let him make a woman out of me,"

Chapter 7: "You wanna fuck me right now?"

Chapter 8: "The fates already fucked me sideways,"

Chapter 9: "Christ, forgive these bones I'm hiding,"

Chapter 10: "and that's why I could never go back home,"

Chapter 11: "I don't care where as long as you're with me,"

Chapter 12: "If it's meant to be, then it will be."

Chapter 13: SOON

Chapter 14: SOON

Chapter 15: SOON

Chapter 16: SOON

Chapter 17: SOON

Chapter 18: SOON

Chapter 19: SOON

Chapter 20: ENDING

read it on wattpad!

the preacher's daughter by babyvenoms

ENJOY! and if you guys have any like visuals to this, or art that you made for this I would love to put it here, just let me know! thank you!! 🩵

[korinthiakos]

I should sleep but--- Epic: Troy Saga, I can't stop listening to it. Maybe I'll just non-stop listen to it in bed

[the-entitie]

Why didn't you say anything?

Poly TF 141 x sex-demon reader (male intended but has depictions of fem):

A|n: Based on this writer's amazing work and this artist's au. And now this is very long.... I can't just write porn can I? Of well.

Prt:2 is done <3 》》》》》

Be warned I use more Catholic or deamon depiction of our succubus(male) reader, so please expect some body horror esk depictions. Also, the 141 are all in a polycule in this story.

CW: NSFW halfway through after the line break, sex addiction or dependence depicted for reader, threats to health, kind of eating disorder esk, talk of threats/acts of noncon and dubcon to reader (not focused on), polyamory, some talk of religion, why is this so long? And angst??? Ok....

Thinking about being a demon who became the 141's spy. The blood of the damned that ran through you, making you that much more dangerous and that much better at your job.

You fell under the deadly sin of lust, but it's been so many decades that you can't quite remember how you came to be. Maybe reincarnation, maybe you were summoned. It doesn't matter anymore, but it still hindered your intake into the military. You were practically a veteran by the time Price picks you up and drags you into his team.

None of the 141 had ever worked with anyone demonic for an extended amount of time. There had been the call ins and times when they picked up failed missions, but none of them ever really worked with a demon.

Ghost, as a wraith, was the closest any of them had gotten to working with anyone similar to you.

You started out as someone they called to scope out information before a particularly threatening mission. You were just the help, the one they called when they needed a spy. Until they leaned about how every other task force would drop you within a month of calling you thiers.

Price had worried that it was something to do with you or your attitude towards teamwork when he had taken you in, made you one of his men.

That was before he noticed this kind of cycle you would go through. Just when a mission would start, you would pull back. You would separate from everyone, not cold turkey, yet you just wouldn't be present. The training room was one person short, or their would be one less person here on the quieter afternoons he didn't even know this team had.

It was after the missions that you would be more than present again.

You were there again when Soap wanted to run his lycanthopic body to exhaustion just so he could feel just a little more human with the pains it brought. When he was hyper, feeling like he needed to move, you were there to shove him. Drag him into a game of tag or chase or anything to help him move. Soap has never been good at sitting still.

When Gaz needed to be called from the purch he picked to preen his damp or irritated feathers on that was away from the busy noise of the base. Or when his Avian blood told him to take to the sky, you were happy to be taken for a flight or watch him loop around, watch him stretch his wings, across the star splattered skies.

And there you were outside with the nocturnal Ghost, saying you didn't need the sleep most nights and got bored. Even when his form would flicker, tendrils of shadows lashing around his open skin, something that made most run. You stayed with him, hummed a tune you can't remember the origin of, in a language probably only those as old as you would remember.

When Price was struck with phantom pain, when he would feel this pang on his wing only to realize it was from the one that didn't exist anymore. You were there with him. Happy to share a cigar with the smoke that smoldered was neither from his drag nor you. There to sit and fill in paperwork long into the night shift, to just exist around Price when the team was still settling in, or licking wounds.

In the more common areas where Soap would annoy Gaz into another game of cards. You were there to keep the peace.

It had taken Price longer than he was willing to admit to know what was going on. It wasn't some manipulative, carrot and stick, trick no. And it almost seemed like you hadn't consciously been doing it. Before it clicked.

You were a demon, a succubus, to be specific. You fed off of the emotion or the intent of sex.

And you only got that when you needed to get someone to talk. You only lean into it when it's needed for a mission.

He honestly felt stupid, like a leader that failed, but he was quick to right that failure. It wasn't like this team didn't run off and blow off steam together or that they left soap to struggle through his heat alone, nor did they leave Gaz to sit and brood alone. None of that.

And if you were a part of his team, this team, then you can't be starved. Can't be left to weaken, to crave, no. Price wouldn't stand it.

So he talked to the team. Told them his theory, his plan to fix it, and when the team had gotten over the hurt of leaving you alone and weak. They jumped at the opportunity.

Starting small.

Being more openly affectionate around you, never quiet reaching out but still letting the emotions linger.

Those play fights that Ghost would tap out of suddenly just kept going, and those thick visceral emotions none could quiet place the origin of; would hang so heavy in the air you could practically catch it between your teeth.

Those days Gaz would pull back, preen his wings alone; became fewer and far between. Now, the nearest team mate had a lap full of fluffled up wings and pleading eyes. And could Gaz use those honey coated eyes of his to glance up through his lashes and beg.

The quiet chuckles and this ever so pleased emotion would wind around Price's incisors, a satisfied thrill of the dragon flooding a palpable semblance of the satisfied job.

Price started talking about to the team, and they started trying to be more connected, more present, with you so you could have that nourishment. And if that meant that private room doors were left ever so lightly ajar during late nights spent with each other. No one mentioned it.

Soap was the first to notice the actual change.

Your eyes would flicker, puplis vibrating softly before it was shut down, and you would disappear. Or you would actually pull back. He was also the first to tell Price. And thier leader waisted no time.

"You good there, lutenent?" His voice calls softly into your quarters.

"All good Cap."

"Not so sure about that one soldier." Price presses on, taking a step further in to push the door more closed, "You don't play well with this team?"

"No, I have no qualms with any of you. Sorry if it seemed so."

"Ya do always talk so proper like you know?"

"Apologies, old habits."

Price steps closer, easily taking the space offered my your open thighs. Letting that simmering feeling flush his skin.

"Maybe we should start making new ones. What do you say, Sugar?"

His hand hovered just over your throat, careful to keep you feel safe. Price of all people knows what a demon can do when cornered, and it wasn't like he wanted you to feel put off.

He sees what Soap saw, just as his palm cups the edge of your jaw, your pupils flicker. Body dropping almost leaning agaisnt him.

"Why didn't you say something, Suguar?"

"Not of my use in this team."

"You don't need to be useful to eat." He sounded almost angry, calming all the more when you do lean into him, "you never need to earn a meal. Just ask. We all want to help."

That night, he let you ride him.

Laid back against your bed, held your weight by your thighs, and let you set the pace. Even if he was so hard it hurt, or if your dark lion-esk tail would flick across the sensitive inside of his thigh. Or when he's come twice and is practically drooling before he notice just how much more like your kin you look.

He doesn't stop you from flicking a forked tongue over the overwhelmed tears, he only noticed the change at the hitch of your breath when Price tangles his scared hands in your hair. Accidently tracing the curving rams horns that has twisted around your more pointed ears.

Singing your praise, even as you tried and failed to explain that you don't matter in this, just his pleasure.

He shut that down real quick.

[madaqueue]

Lost Cherry

pairing: yuta okkotsu x f!reader

themes/content: dark content. yandere/stalking. non-curse modern college au. language, smut. scent kink (?), alcohol consumption, drugging (no nsfw during), oral (f receiving), semi-public sex. 18+, MDNI

word count: 2.8k

a/n: "i love this guy and whatever undiagnosed anxiety disorder he has" is my fav yuta quote i've ever heard and honestly...me too (and yeah this is based off the tom ford perfume what about it)

Yuta noticed everything about you. How could he not, when the essence of perfection, an angel reincarnate, was here before him?

He truly saw you, his dark eyes boring into your soul as he soaked in your every move, every reaction, every thought.

When you met him your freshman year of college you thought he was sweet, albeit a little strange, his intense gaze putting you slightly on edge for a reason you couldn’t quite pin down. But nevertheless he was always the perfect gentleman, holding every door for you, driving you to class when it rained, bringing you your favorite foods when you were sick. He did it without question, as though caring about you came second nature to him, like it was his one true state of being.

The two of you continued growing closer over the years, sleeping on each other’s couches when study nights ran long, going to concerts of a band you loved together, cooking your favorite foods. It was almost uncanny how similar you two were, sharing the same taste in everything, Yuta’s smile never faltering as you gawked at him in disbelief when he recognized the obscure reference you made or when he happened to guess your coffee order. “I guess it’s just fate,” he’d grin as you laughed in awe.

But it’s not fate, he thinks. Fate would never be so careless as to risk letting you slip from his grasp; no, it was him. Time and time again he outsmarted the universe, foiling its plans to separate you. He knows you because he sees you, understands you, in a way no one else ever will (he’ll make sure of that). It wasn’t hard, really - he was always naturally observant, calculated, patient. All he needed to get close to you was a few chance meetings, accidental run-ins, where he could show you just how much he cares about you. And you, being as sweet and kind as you are, fell right into his open arms.

He loves you because he sees you.

He sees the way your lips curl into a smile as you sip your drink from across a crowded bar, a slight frown forming across your features as some pathetic excuse for a man tries to speak to you, making an idiotic joke you politely laugh at; he sees how you fidget with your hands, pulling at the chipping nail polish during class, a tell-tale sign you weren’t understanding the material (and an opportunity for him to explain it to you later while you studied); he sees the way you move when you’re alone, when you think no one’s watching, when you finally let your guard down and ease into the truest form of yourself.

It’s almost like you wanted him to see you, presenting yourself to him like a book with the pages peeled open and the cover ripped off, making it impossible for him to look away. It was only natural for his eyes to wander the words of your soul, mastering the lines and sentences of what makes you you.

So it’s no surprise when he gifts you a perfume that perfectly encapsulates your energy, your essence. After months of searching he finally found one that met his standards, living up to his mental representation of who you are. He knows you’ll love it, and you do - you begin wearing it everyday, the sweet scent of your skin filling his senses whenever you step into a room. The warm, amber notes become equivalent to you, a signal of your presence, a smile gracing his lips every time it wafts by him.

The one thing he doesn’t tell you is that he bought a second bottle, just for him, his best kept secret, the cherished liquid that evokes vivid memories of your laugh, your eyes, your skin, your voice, your everything when he smells it.

It’s harmless, really, when he sprays it on his pillow to help him fall asleep, calmness immediately washing over him as he pictures you there, holding him. He could practically feel the warmth of your body in his empty room, imagining how your soft hands would trace his body.

And when he wakes up, the scent of you still lingering, a smile graces his face as he nuzzles into the cool pillow.

It’s not his fault when he grows dependent on it, spraying the liquid into the air as he screws his eyes shut, picturing you. The way you’d kiss him, how smooth your skin would be, how soft your lips are, how your hands would feel wrapped around his cock, how warm and tight your cunt would feel around him. As he slides his fist around his length, he can’t help but moan your name, the idea of you filling his mind.

You.

One word, all-consuming. You occupy his thoughts, cloud his mind in bliss, every waking second. He loves you, he loves you, he loves you.

So when he sees you at a house party, wrapping your arms around his neck as you go in for a hug, why the fuck do you smell different?

“New perfume?” he asks, trying to hide how visibly taken aback he is as he pulls away from you.

Nodding, you take a sip of the drink in your hand. “Mhm,” you hum over the music. “Friend got it f’me. Y’like it?” you slur slightly, swaying in his grasp.

“I-it’s nice,” he stutters, his fingers beginning to dig into your arms.

How could you?

Glancing down, he notices the nearly empty cup you cling to, mind racing as he formulates a plan. “Want me to get you another drink?” he asks, steadying his thoughts and tilting his head innocently, hiding the rage he feels behind his dark irises.

A soft smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, lip gloss glowing under the LEDs, as your eyes lazily make their way up to his. Reaching out a hand you ruffle his hair, placing a sticky kiss to his cheek. “You’re s’sweet Yuta,” you murmur against his skin, holding your glass out for him to take.

This would be sweet, if it wasn’t for the vile, traitorous perfume that suddenly overwhelms his senses. It’s too floral, too dry, too not you.

“Be right back,” he purrs, placing a kiss to the top of your head before stepping away, afraid that if he stayed any longer he would do something he regrets.

Besides, he can’t pass up this opportunity: he gets to show you he can take care of you, how much he adores you, and get rid of the chance that anyone thinks they know you like he does.

When he returns, you don’t even notice the weird taste in your drink; why would you? You trust him, like you should. When your body starts to feel too heavy, legs struggling to keep you up, you lean on him, like you should. When your head begins pounding and you just want to lay down, you let him take you home, like you should.

In the comfort of your apartment, one all too familiar to him, he helps you change into pajamas before bundling you up under the blankets of your bed. You look so sweet, so innocent, as your head rests against the pillow, eyelashes fluttering as you ease into sleep.

Your mind is cloudy as you rest, body still pulsing with each beat of your heart, suddenly sensing his weight shifting from where he sits at the end of your bed. “Yuta?” you whisper weakly.

He could melt just hearing you call his name, your voice like honey. “Yes?” he responds, turning his head over his shoulder to face you.

“Stay,” you murmur, reaching a hand out to him.

God, he could die happy right here. He could afford a few hours of sleeping next to you, right? It’s not like there’s any urgency now, he’s already lined everything up, now he just has to knock it down.

“Okay,” he breathes, getting under the covers next to you.

The warmth of your body envelops him as you lazily wrap your arms around his torso, uncoordinated motions to keep him, your one source of stability, close to you. Your thoughts are fuzzy as you fade into Yuta’s softness, letting him overtake your mind. Shifting his weight he leans into you, head resting on yours as you bury your face into his chest. He holds you against him, the scent of your shampoo lingering on your hair, a familiar one, a kind one.

He waits until your breathing slows, soft snores leaving your throat as you rest peacefully against him. Gingerly untangling his body from yours he rises, making his way to your bathroom. Sitting atop your counter is the target of his task: the sacrilegious bottle of perfume. It takes so little for him to knock it off the ledge, glass shattering as it hits the tile, the strong smell suddenly overwhelming the confined space, making his stomach turn as he pictures you in it. Never again.

He softly pads back to your bed, careful not to wake you as he rejoins your shared warmth under the comforter. Overwhelmingly pleased, his heart races as a contented grin spreads across his face.

When you question him about it the next morning, it’s easy to brush off.

“Yuta?” you question sleepily after you return from the bathroom, “Do you know what happened to my perfume?”

Normally the frown across your face would haunt him, tugging at his heartstrings to see you unhappy, but now it takes everything in him to not show his excitement. “Dunno,” he shrugs, “maybe you knocked it over last night?”

“Mmm, probably,” you hum, settling back in next to him as your head rests on his chest, hoping you don’t notice how his heart races at the contact, your mind still too foggy to realize you never even told him that the bottle broke. “Thanks for taking care of me last night. Sorry I got so drunk, I don’t know what happened.”

“Nothin’ to apologize for,” he reassures, his arms reaching around you, “I like taking care of you.”

“Thanks, Yu,” you murmur, nuzzling your head further into the softness of his t-shirt.

It’s so easy, he thinks. Everything with you is just that, easy: it’s easy to make you trust him, easy to look after you, easy to love you.

So when he sees you a few days later, eating lunch outside between classes, it’s easy for him to go over and sit next to you, the grass tickling his shins as he crosses his legs.

“Hi, Yuta,” you smile, your cheeks slightly rosy in the sun as you lean your head onto his shoulder.

Before he can respond, a familiar scent hits his nose, the one that is so, undeniably, you. “You smell good,” he blurts out, unable to contain his excitement.

A giggle escapes your lips at the sudden compliment, the sound soft and sweet. “Thanks,” you laugh, “it’s the perfume you got me, so I’m glad you still like it.”

“O-of course I do,” he stammers, “I picked it because it’s perfect for you.”

Looking up at him, you don’t miss the slight redness covering his face as his adoration for you begins to slip through the cracks of his resolve. All you can do is continue giggling, the most angelic sound in the world echoing in his mind, as he melts before you. “You’re too sweet, y’know that?” you ask.

Popping one of the cherries you brought for lunch into your mouth, a comfortable silence falls between you as Yuta continues staring at you in awe - how could you be so perfect? He has to stop himself from nearly drooling as he watches your tongue work the pit from the flesh of the fruit, the way your lips move absolutely tantalizing. He has to have you.

Sensing his gaze, you turn to face him. “Want one?” you ask politely, holding the bag out to him.

As you shift the richness of your perfume again wafts towards him in the breeze, tearing down any remaining walls of shame or embarrassment left encasing his feelings for you. Suddenly he leans forward, one hand going to the back of your neck as his lips crash into yours.

The kiss is messy, needy, as his tongue slides into your mouth. His body presses against yours, desperate for more of you, as you fall into the grass. His hands are everywhere, finally able to feel the one thing he’s been thinking about for years, as they roam your body.

Pulling away slightly, you breathlessly try to get his attention with a call of his name, but he doesn’t stop, only shifting his weight to kiss down your neck. Everything about you overwhelms his senses as he sucks against your skin, leaving a trail of bruises behind. His.

Your back arches off the ground as he moves lower, lips trailing kisses down your abdomen over your clothes as his palms grasp at your tits, your stomach, your ass, any part of you he can find, his touch hot. When he begins undoing the button to your shorts, a wave of panic overtakes you as you process what he wants.

“Y-Yuta,” you stutter, your hand reaching down to tilt his chin up, forcing him to face you. As he does, your face flushes at just how feral he looks, his pupils blown wide and lips parted as he pants expectantly.

“Please,” he whispers, “need to taste you,” his eyes moving back between your legs as he continues removing your shorts.

“B-but-” you begin, worried about the chance of being seen if someone were to walk past the small field you sat in, your gaze moving across the open space.

“There’s no one here,” he explains without looking up, sensing your nervousness. “I’ll make you feel s’good, I promise.”

Glancing around, you confirm the absence of any other students or professors, biting your lower lip nervously as you acquiesce.

Frankly, Yuta didn’t care if there was anyone around - once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He tugs your pants off, pausing only momentarily to admire the wet spot in your panties before pulling the flimsy material out of the way, his mouth attaching to your cunt. He moans as his tongue meets your folds, so much better than he could’ve imagined. The sound vibrating against your skin elicits a sharp gasp from you, your hands instinctively reaching down to his hair.

“Yuta,” you whine as his tongue glides up you.

God, he loves the way you say his name; he needs to hear it again.

His palms trace down your body to hold onto your thighs tightly, nearly leaving more bruises against your skin as he pulls you impossibly closer to him. Swirling around your clit he whines as your hips move up, desperate for more friction, his heart swelling at the idea that you need him just as badly as he needs you.

After years of loving you he knows just what to do, exactly how to move to make you feel good, his compendium of your body finally paying off. Slipping his tongue into you, another whimper escapes his throat as you moan his name. Bringing one hand down he roughly circles your clit with his thumb, using the exact pattern he’s seen you do more times than he could count, one he knows is guaranteed to bring you closer and closer and closer.

As your grip on his hair tightens, he knows it’s working.

His mind is flooded with you, your smell, your taste, your sounds, your everything. He loves it, he wants to crawl inside you and live in your heart forever, just like you’ve done with his. He wants to make a home in the corner of your mind, getting to see the most private and intimate thoughts you have that not even he could be privy to.

The only thing tethering him to reality is your soft voice calling his name, the most soothing rhythm in the world as your body begins to shake, heat building as you approach your release.

“Yuta,” you whimper, “m’close.”

Warmth spreads across his body, knowing he’s the one making you feel good, taking care of you, loving you, like nobody else ever could. His motions pick up, messily grinding his tongue against your cunt as you pull him into you. Everywhere he presses feels like flames, heat pricking over every inch of your body.

His name leaves your lips like a prayer as you come undone on his tongue, a series of whines reverberating against you from Yuta as he continues messily lapping you up, desperate for anything more you’re willing to give him.

When he finally pulls his face away from between your legs he’s immediately back on top of you, his lips pressing into yours with the same feral desire. His breath is hot against yours as you taste yourself on him, the entire thing overwhelming your mind as your body comes down from its high.

Pausing for only a moment, his eyes flutter open as he looks down at you, a gentle sheen of sweat across your features, grass surrounding your hair, cheeks a soft pink. Everything about you so, absolutely, undeniably perfect.

“Mine,” he whispers to himself, so quietly you nearly don’t catch it, before his lips are on yours again.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Unorthodox 1

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: you bring order to the disordered life of Captain Syverson.

Characters: Captain Syverson, this reader is known as Izzie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

The rumble keeps you awake. A storm but not the type in the sky. You yawn and lean against the hummer door, jostling with the wheels as the roaring snores fill the compartment. Pierson drives and sends dark looks in the rear view, equally as disturbed by the burly man snorting and snuffing beside you. Neither of you dare disturb him. You’re not that dumb. 

The man is intimidating even in slumber. You pull on the seat belt and adjust your posture. The hours spent in the back seat have you stiff and restless. You envy Syverson. He can sleep through anything. You really believe that. If it wasn't for you, he'd oversleep the alarm in his phone every time. 

You yawn as you sense Pierson's attitude shift. You're almost there. He nods at you in the mirror and you sigh. You reach to grab the thermos that will be lukewarm at best by now. Still, you have to appease the bear. 

You reach to squeeze Sy's shoulder. He snorts and sucks in a deep breath. You try to shake him, an impossible task for most. You brush your fingers down his sleep and poke his muscle. 

"Syverson," you say tersely, "time to wake up." 

He slumps away from you and snores even louder. You roll your eyes. He's stubborn even when he's asleep. You pull your hand back and snap your knuckles against his arm. 

"Sy! Up." 

Still he is unaffected. You undo your seat belt and move closer. You uncap the thermos and reach around him, hovering it under his nose. He quiets and sniffs, grumbling. He moves stuntedly to wrap his hand around yours and slide the metal cup free. He sits up and purrs over the brim.  

"Coffee," he growls and gulps deep. 

"About there," Pierson states. 

Sy hums flatly and finishes the coffee in another swig. He hands back the empty cup and you shimmy back to other end of the seat. You cap the thermos and put it back in the plastic holder. 

"Remind me," he flicks two fingers at you. 

You stir around and bring out your tablet, sliding back the protective cover. You tap and bring up the contract, flicking through the maps as you go over the numbers. Units in the east, with another party coming from the north. Estimates are about sixty men total, fifteen vehicles, and ammunition to match. 

"They're tryin' to short us," Sy insists. "I can sell half as many for double." 

"Yes, you can," you agree, "but you also need to network." 

He chortles, "this isn't a boardroom, Izzie." 

"Don't I know it," you utter. You miss those days sometimes. Sand and sun make you long for climate control and complimentary coffee. "Money is money, I get it, but this is a big one. Could open a lot of doors. Make it so you can demand your worth." 

"Mm, so wise," he praises in his grizzly way, "kit." 

You fold up the tablet cover and once more search around the pack. You take out the toiletry pouch and hand it over. He finds the mini toothbrush and uses a gulp of the bottled water to wash up, spitting out the window. As he checks his watch, you reach over with a tissue to wipe a spot of paste from his beard. 

"Thanks, Iz." 

You go about cleaning up yourself. Worse than the cold caffeine and sleepless night, its the lack of hygiene that gets to you most. You use a face wipe on your skin and ball it up. The money is convincing and as much as you might long for the old ways, those office walls drove you mad. 

"I need a fuckin' drink," Sy grumbles as he rubs his eyes. 

"Tell me about it," you scoff. 

"Huh? You never do." 

"Not with you," you counter. "Don't drink on the clock." 

"Mm, so you do partake?" 

"None of your business." 

"Ah, come on, Iz, you can't dangle the bait in front of me like that." 

"You got your vest on?" You ask. 

"Always. Don't change the subject." 

"Not much else to say about it," you zip up the pack and sit back, watching through the windshield, a cage between the front and backseats.  

Sy straps on his fingerless gloves and furls and unfurls his fists. He's getting impatient. He always gets a bit uppity before a meeting. Especially with money on the line. You don't doubt him for a minute. He handles numbers as well as he does a gun. 

"Let's say I get them to tack on another fifty," he says, "will you drink to that?" 

You look at him from the corner of your eye, "depends." 

"Depends on what?" He challenges. 

"No Titos." 

He's quiet as he drags his boot tread on the floor. Even in such a large vehicle, he's cramped. 

"How'd you know?" 

"Someone has to keep your pantry stocked," you tut. 

He chuckles, "s'pose." 

You tidy yourself as best as you can and set your jaw. It took a lot to get used to the whole not smiling thing. You were never very keen on it but every job you had before required it. 

"You get this one, you get a lot more than money," you gird. "I know you will." 

"Ah, you trust me, Izzie." 

"Trust is a strong word. I know you'll handle it," you say as you stretch your legs, checking your own vest as you tighten the straps.  You sense him watching you. 

"Eh, I think I might let you take lead," he snorts, "you can be terrifying when ya want to." 

"Whatever," you shrug off the joke. Scary? You? 

What's scary is walking into a job interview with a brute sharpening a hunting knife as casually he might clean his nails. Scarier even is to say yes to the offer. Life does lead you to the most unexpected places. Still, you prefer it to the purgatory of predictability house in the white corporate walls of the past.