#the first day of cramps is actually the WORST!!! CURSED!!!

[quietlyblooms]

my tummy heckin hurts y’all

[carnalcrows]

CAN’T SLEEP? - THANOS & NAMGYU

pairing: top! thanos x bottom! namgyu x top male reader

synopsis: Desperate times call for desperate measures

content warnings: 18+, bottom namgyu, top thanos, dry humping, threesome, public sec (but no actual sex ahahah).

word count: 1.0k

A/N: not too happy with this haha... how does one write dry humping

The dorms were stifling at lights-out. The kind of heat that clung to your skin, made everything feel heavier. After the day's game—one that left bodies scattered across the arena—everyone who was still breathing had collapsed the moment they hit their bunks.

You weren’t so lucky.

Because somehow, through the worst luck imaginable, you ended up in the world’s most uncomfortable human sandwich.

Namgyu was wedged between you and Thanos. And for once, you and Thanos had something in common: neither of you were happy about it.

"Can you stop moving?" you muttered under your breath, shifting slightly as Namgyu squirmed between you.

"I’m trying," Namgyu whispered back, voice thick with exhaustion. "But Thanos keeps pressing into me."

"You’re the one pressing into me," Thanos shot back, equally irritated.

"Okay, both of you shut up," you groaned. "If the guards hear us, we’re dead."

The three of you fell into tense silence, the only sound in the room the quiet breathing of the other survivors. The heat, the cramped space, the feeling of Namgyu’s body shifting slightly between you—it all made for an unbearable kind of awareness.

Then Namgyu exhaled, shifting just a little more, and— Your breath hitched.

It was ridiculous how little it took. A simple shift, a brush of skin against skin, and suddenly the tension was thick enough to suffocate. Namgyu must have felt it too because he stilled, caught between you and Thanos, the warmth of his breath ghosting against your neck.

Neither you nor Thanos moved.

Namgyu swallowed.

And then—

One thing led to another.

Namgyu’s lips met yours, warm and desperate, and your body reacted before your brain could process what was happening. You kissed him back, hands gripping onto his shirt, pulling him closer despite the sweat sticking to your skin. His mouth moved eagerly against yours, a messy clash of lips and breath, like he needed this—like you all did.

Then, just as suddenly, he pulled away, panting. A sharp breath, a shift in movement—

And then Namgyu was kissing Thanos.

The sheer absurdity of it should’ve made you recoil. But instead, all you could do was watch, heat pooling in your stomach as Thanos—who you were convinced had no romantic bone in his body—actually melted into it. His hands, rough from the games, tangled in Namgyu’s hair, and the sound he made—low, muffled—sent a jolt straight through you.

You weren’t sure if it was jealousy, irritation, or something else entirely that made you grab Namgyu’s chin and pull him back toward you. His lips were swollen, his breath unsteady, and he barely had time to exhale before you kissed him again, teeth knocking clumsily. It was messy, frenzied, desperate—like the last good thing before the world swallowed you whole.

Thanos cursed under his breath, his hands gripping at Namgyu’s hips as if trying to steady himself. You could feel his gaze burning into you, filled with something between competition and unspoken agreement. The tension was thick, the shared breaths ragged, and the air felt charged with something neither of you dared to name.

And yet, somehow—despite the heat, the exhaustion, the absolute insanity of the situation—you couldn’t bring yourself to stop.

Namgyu barely had time to catch his breath before Thanos yanked him back, pressing their mouths together in something far too heated for two guys who pretended not to like each other. You stared, panting, heart hammering against your ribs as Namgyu let out a muffled noise—surprised at first, then melting into it. His hands curled into Thanos’ shirt, body pressing further between the two of you.

Your jaw clenched. You didn’t even like Thanos. You could barely stand the guy. But watching Namgyu get passed between you like a shared secret, his breath hitching, his lips puffy from the sheer desperation of it all—something inside you snapped.

Before you could overthink it, you grabbed Namgyu by the chin and pulled him back to you, kissing him just as hungrily as before. He whined against your mouth, clutching at you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded. And then—damn it—you felt Thanos move in behind him, pressing close, mouth dragging along the side of Namgyu’s neck, his breath hot against his skin.

You shuddered, glaring over Namgyu’s shoulder. “Don’t get too comfortable, big guy.”

Thanos only smirked, dark eyes gleaming in the dim light. “Right back at you.”

Namgyu groaned between you, tilting his head back against Thanos’ shoulder, completely lost in it. “Shut up, both of you,” he muttered, voice breathy.

Fair enough.

You kissed him again, slower this time—lingering, savoring. Thanos did the same, lips trailing along Namgyu’s jaw, down his throat. The heat between you all was unbearable, tension twisting tighter and tighter like a rope ready to snap. The dorm was silent except for the sound of ragged breathing, the occasional muffled groan, the rustling of sheets as you shifted, pulling Namgyu closer, holding him tighter.

You felt something hard against your thigh– enveloping the softness of the trackpats.

Oh.

Namgyu looked up at you, his lashes laced with tears. When did that happen?

Mumbling an apology, he experimentally pushed his crotch forward into your thigh, breath stuttering as his head leaned back into Thanos, giving the purple-haired man more access to his neck. 

Namgyu continued rutting against your thigh as you held him in place, his hands covering his mouth to muffle any moans. You felt your own cock harden in your pants, who knew that a man dry humping on your thigh could be so…arousing?

It seemed that you weren’t the only one that thought so. Thanos’ grip on Namgyu’s waist had tightened significantly– he pushed his crotch into the crevice of Namgyu’s ass, muffling his groans in the crook of the other man's neck.

Your hand slipped from Namgyu’s waist to the hem of his track pants, sliding it down a bit to reveal his hardened length, slick with precum.

You flicked your thumb over his tip– eliciting a low whine from the other man. Thanos– feeling left out of the action, brought one of his hands forward to cup the base of Namgyu’s cock– pressing it gently, which seemed so out of character for someone like him (or maybe you just dislike the guy, who knows).

Namyu’s back arched into Thanos– he felt himself on the verge of a release, and then–

“...”

The three of you looked up from your haze into none other than Player 001.

You were fucked.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time, and I take genuine effort to do them.

[hot-pota-toes]

"And they were roommates" (teaser)

Eddie Munson x Onlyfans Reader

MDN1 18+

WC: 700

Summary: Eddie's crush on his roommate is constantly weighing him down to the point that he's desperate to find any content that reminds him of her so he can jerk off and go to sleep. Imagine his surprise when he finds a video of you, legs spread as you touch yourself proudly on camera

Eddie shouldn't be doing this.

Eddie knows he shouldn't be doing this.

It was an accident, a complete accident. Eddie has been secretly crushing on his roommate for a few months now but hasn't done or said anything about it yet. You weren't trying to kill him, you'd just come into the kitchen to grab a snack wearing a baggy T-shirt and some torturously small sleep shorts. You weren't even doing anything intentionally sexual to set him off, but it was enough to make Eddie excuse himself to bed early to get rid of his growing hard on.

He had touched himself to the thought of you, multiple times actually. But this was the first time he was looking up someone like you to help fuel his imagination. He was looking up your hair color, your body type stuff like that into his porn searches but wasn't actually expecting to find you. He must've been seeing things there was no way that it was actually you. The thumbnail had you in nothing but your bra, legs spread, hand in between your thighs as you touched yourself, proudly smiling into the camera.

Holy shit, He tapped on the video to make sure that he wasn't hallucinating. He couldn't help it. He didn't even bother loosening his jeans before shoving his hand into his underwear. The woman that he's been pining after for months is right there, on his phone screen, getting herself off in her room. Her room. Which shared a wall to his room in their cramped apartment. Eddie has had heart eyes for you the second you moved in. His friends knew about this, saying that his crush on you was painfully obvious. He just hoped that it wasn't obvious to you.

He actually struggled to speak to you for the first few days, until you and some mutual friends all went out for dinner. Steve eventually pulled him aside and threatened to embarrass him in front of you, as a way of forcing his confidence. It didn't take long to break the ice, discovering that you both had a lot of similar interests. Now, both you and Eddie feel safe to call each other pretty close friends. Watching horror movies together on the couch, smoking weed together while blasting music. You had even gone to see a few of his shows at the hideout when you weren't busy.

For now, Eddie continued pumping his leaking cock, trying to match your pacing to you through the screen of his phone. He's almost hypnotized watching your fingers disappear inside yourself wishing that it was his instead making you feel so good. He can see how wet you are from the glistening on your fingers when you pull them out, And the wet sounds it makes when you put your fingers back in. Fucking hell. The regret will sit heavy on Eddie's chest tonight, but all he can think about is how sweet you look whilst you continue sliding your fingers through your folds, whimpering softly against the pillow, trying to stay quiet. If only Eddie could be there, on his knees with his tongue between your legs whilst you slide your fingers into his curls. You probably tasted so sweet.

Eddie cums in his pants with a soft whimper. It was uncomfortable and desperate, the worst kind of dampness. He instantly cursed himself for not removing any of his clothing before wrapping his fist around his cock. In his defense, his discovery was sudden and exciting, and Eddie didn't even think about locking his bedroom door, let alone preparing himself properly. As the video continues playing he starts scrolling through your channel and is surprised not just by the amount of videos you've posted. But the views, the likes, the comments, there were just so many. Not just on this one but all of them.

You'd never really told Eddie what you do for a living, it never really came up in conversation. He only knew that you work from home, which technically isn't a lie. But this is never what he would've guessed what you meant. The video eventually ended, fading to black with some white text appearing. Eddie enlarged the video again to read it. ‘Hey Guys!!! Thank You So Much For Watching! (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶) To see more of me Check Out My OnlyFans!!! Link Here!’

He was fucked

A/N: this is just a little taste of the first chapter of this fic ;) rn the word count just hit 7k but didnt want to post something unfinished. I'm touching up the ending and don't know how long it will take me to complete it. Hope you enjoyed this little teaser 😋

[slytherinshua]

◍　FALLING DREAMS　( 이석민 )

genre fluff , period comfort , established relationship , seokmin x fem!reader   cw cramps/nausea/headaches/other period stuff mentioned but no blood , not proofread   wc 804   request for @seokminfilm lyr my love this will cure ur cramps 100% (i hope)   note slytherinshua svt fic era WE ARE SO BACK (i'm not actually in an era only for my pookie lyr) ++ listen to falling dreams while reading   net @kstrucknet

You’d been cursed with painful cramps on your periods since you were a teenager. Coupled with nausea, headaches, and soreness, it was safe to say you loathed whenever that week of torture came around. Most people thought you were being dramatic about how much it hurt, even when sometimes it was too hard to even stand up because of the pain. 

The worst was whenever you had to bring up the topic to men. Calling in sick for work became more trouble than it was worth due to your prying boss who was stricter than reason. And God forbid you mentioned your time of the month as a reason for your absence. You’d been laughed at, threatened, and humiliated multiple times to the point that you avoided it at all costs. It was easier to suffer through the pain all day at the office than try to fight your way for a reasonable excused sick day.

But you were lucky that there was at least one reasonable man in your life. Your boyfriend Seokmin took your time of the month more seriously than you sometimes. He was always more than willing to get you anything you needed, and was extra affectionate and loving. Although he didn’t know how it felt to go through the painful cramps, he could imagine just how painful it must be. Seeing you grimace your way through every long day saddened him. He tried his utmost best to make it even a little easier for you.

Which was why now, after a long day at work and several breakdowns throughout the day due to the hormonal rollercoaster your body was riding, you were now lying in bed listening to the soft sound of Seokmin’s singing from the kitchen. He was making your favourite brownies as was tradition. 

It started years ago when you first started dating. You were a bit too shy to ask your boyfriend of only a week to help you with anything relating to the pain. Meanwhile, Seokmin was both confused and concerned on why you kept wincing every few minutes while trying to watch a movie. When he finally coaxed the answer out of you, he was unexpectedly sweet about it all. 

You laugh at the memory now. Of course Seokmin was the sweetest ever when he heard about the pain you were experiencing. It was perfectly in character for him. You soon learned that the attractive man who always made you laugh was also one with the kindest soul you had ever met. You knew from that day that you had chosen right. Seokmin was a dream. 

“Baby, I just put them in the oven, okay? Thirty minutes and they’ll be ready,” Seokmin called as he made his way back to your shared bedroom. A pretty smile graced his face as he caught sight of you wrapped up in the blankets. “How are you feeling now?” 

His soft question made your heart melt a little, and with a gentle hand reaching to brush back your hair, you felt overwhelmed all at once. What did you do to deserve a man as perfect as him?

“Still feels like someone’s stabbing my insides repeatedly, but you’re making it better,” you told him, raking your hand up to meet his, interlacing your fingers together. He frowned slightly at your response, hating to see you in such pain, even if it was a normal thing. 

“I’m so sorry, baby,” Seokmin’s voice was gentle, soothing to your ears. Whenever you were around him, all the pain you felt seemed to subside, even just a little. His touch was delicate as he pulled you up from the pillows for a hug, squeezing extra tightly when he heard the muffled whimper of pain escape your lips. He knew after years that this is all you needed. A warm hug, comforting words, and delicious fudgy brownies to distract from the pain.

Tender kisses were what came next, the first few pressed to your cheek before he travelled lower to your lips. You giggled with every exaggerated ‘mwah!’ that Seokmin added after every peck, attempting to lift your mood in any way. And it always worked wonders. 

It worked too well, in fact, judging by the whine of protest that left your lips as soon as he stopped kissing you. But he remedied it as quickly as he could, lips falling back onto yours, hands holding your waist gently, cautiously, as if you were in danger of breaking at any additional pressure. To Seokmin, you were the most precious part of his life. He made it quite known with his selflessness and caring towards you. And if you were to ever doubt it, all it took was one bite of brownie to be reminded again.

Seokmin was a dream. And he was all yours.

svt taglist (bolded could not be tagged): @kangtaehyunzzz,, @eternalgyu,, @ddeonudepressions,, @hannahsophie0103,, @cham3li,, @shuabby1994,, @icyminghao,, @98-0603,, @weird-bookworm,, @candewlsy,, @wonwooz1,, @blossominghunnie,, @haecien,, @amara-mars,, @okshu,, @parkjennykim,, @wootify,, @svtoose,, @seunghancore,, @ujisworld,, @sobun1est,, @bananabubble,, @talkingsaxy,, @thesunsfullmoon,, @talking-saxy,, @nicholasluvbot,, @cupidslovearrows,, @50-husbands,, @hursheys,, @gong-fourz,, @nonononranghaee,, @forever-atiny,, @starshuas,, @raevyng,, @loserlvrss,, @lexeees,, @xikskrrrs,, @cupidslovearrows,, @nicholasluvbot

[randomdwellerr]

A/N: i think I’ve fallen victim to the A03 writers curse as I dropped my beautiful computer down the stairs early this week. Anyways I hope yall enjoy a nice slow burn because I was 3500 words in like “I STILL HAVEN’T ADDED THE SMUT.” I think I did dumbification justice here but lmk ofc. Anyways this will be on A03 soon enough.

Office hours

Warnings: Dumbification, DubCon, Power Imbalances, cruel Zhongli lowkey, Spanking, Degradation. Lmk if I missed anything ❤️

Make sure to study chapters 9-10, 13, and 14 in your Geography Book and come prepared to discuss your findings next class.

Yeah right, if only the reading was comprehensible! The paragraphs about climatology jumbled together before flying off the pages, toward different corners of your room.

You’d studied so hard that when you squinted your eyes, it didn’t provide you with a clearer look, but instead blurred further. Only when you blink rapidly would the fog temporarily dissipate from view. At this point, you were one eye rub away from convincing yourself that this was a visual impairment, not a school related mental breakdown.

And that wasn’t the worst of it, your hands had begun to cramp from gripping your highlighter or pen while you frantically tried to write to retain some of the knowledge. That’s when you knew things were going downhill.

And to the surprise of no one, that didn’t work.

What was once a well organized notebook was now filled with scribbles or yellow streaks— and occasionally tears— as you continued to hunch over your desk.

You were— are a good student. B average, nice scholarship, advanced placement, everything had been going nicely but a stupid geography had been your downfall.

You didn’t intend on doing anything related to the subject when you took the class, and you surely weren’t now that you had a taste of the stress, but you had signed up for the class with a bit of peer pressure from your friends.

It was easy they said, we’d see each other more they claimed. If you could go back in time, you would warn yourself that only the latter was true, and only for a while anyway.

The first day of class in the crowded auditorium, you’d secured a plush seat with your group of friends. You’d figure the class would be easy enough, you’d taken a handle full of history classes through high school and now college.It didn’t hurt that Professor Zhongli was easy on the eyes—and the ears. His deep, rumbling voice paired with sharp hazel eyes was enough to distract you. And then there was that long ponytail, somehow managing to look both professional and a little magical when it caught the light. Oh, and an empty ring finger.

Honestly, if the whole teaching thing didn’t work out for him, envisioning Zhongli as a model wasn’t hard.

Everything started out fine. The first quiz had been easy enough, based on the contents of the syllabus Mr Zhongli passed out on the first day of classes.

After that, the harder stuff started. Climatology, Geomorphology, Hydrology, every single horrific

topic, that you couldn’t comprehend. The first couple class days, you would joke around with your friends, listen to music, anything else but study in the designated time. Your teacher however, never said anything, never called on you to answer a question, read aloud, nothing. If you doubted before he knew your name, you were sure he didn’t know it now.

When the second test came around, you knew you’d made a grave mistake, not only by not taking the class seriously but actually signing up for the class in the first place. A fat F, circled in red ink, rested at the top of your paper. When your friends sports low to mid A’s and B’s, you knew something had to give. And apparently the solution was simpler than you’d thought, as written in neat handwriting below the F was a note.

Perhaps you should try sitting up front, away from potential distractions.

Maybe instead of blindly signing up for the class you should have looked his name up on ratemyprofessor, even now you wanted to leave a scathing review on his surprisingly perfect record.

The paper was promptly balled up and thrown into a small corner of your room, probably next to your syllabus.

How utterly ridiculous. If he could notice you getting distracted during his lecture, he could also realize that you had stopped talking to your friends in class a long time ago.

But that wasn’t the real problem anyways, and you knew it. His class was too hard. It was deadline after deadline after deadline, whether it be of assigned reading, essays, peer review, and God forbid you attempted the extra credit.

There was bonus work to boost your grade so

of course you didn’t expect the work to be easy but hard was a true gross understatement.

The directions were simple enough, do this, this, this, a little more of that, and this again. As expected of a college course, but how could you manage to do all of that if you couldn’t finish— let alone understand the work you were actually required to do.

Soon enough though, you tossed your pride aside and moved to the front of the class. And true to his advice, you had been able to comprehend more, not a lot more, but something was better than nothing.

And it seemed he noticed too, his eyes began to actually find yours in class and his smile seemed genuine too. A polite, encouraging grin that never ceased to make your efforts seem worth it.

The next test, however, reminded you of your standing in the class. A cursive D+ sat like a black hole on the front of your quiz packet. Progress like that was truly no progress at all.

If you hadn’t already wasted water crying during the test itself, you would have broken down when he returned the paper to you. Face down.

With the actual exam coming up, you knew you needed to see Mr Zhongli in person. Under no circumstances could you fail this class, even if it didn’t help you further your career you still couldn’t flunk it. Lest you want to lose your scholarship.

The bag crossed over your chest, felt extra heavy as you trekked to Zhongli’s office. Maybe it was the computer, or the spiral notebook, but most likely it was the 319 page Geography book buried somewhere inside it. The physical copy was paid for by your scholarship but the online copy was not and being the broke College student you were, it definitely was not affordable.

Your knuckles brushed against the oak door, below the golden name plate that read Dr Morax. The name seriously fit him, it sounded just as professional as he was.

After a firm come in you found yourself inside his medium sized office.

He gave you time to take in your surroundings, multiple diplomas of varying degrees and schools hung on the cream walls. The wooden desk that separated you two was an organized mess, numerous stacks of papers, some graded, some not. Other nicks nacks were neatly placed on the desk, the school mascot bobblehead, newton's cradle, a small wooden globe, the things usually expected to see on a teacher's desk. This room was definitely bigger than most professors work spaces than you had seen.

“Please take a seat,” Mr Zhongli motioned to one of the plush seats in front of his desk. His own position was relaxed as he leaned back in the chair, hands folded neatly on his lap, one of his long legs sat draped over another. His slim ponytail was draped over his white button down, so long that it almost reached down to the black slacks he wore.

“Nice of you to finally stop by.”

Now that felt underhanded. Your eyes snapped up to him ready to say something back, but the words died in your throat at his look. HIs gaze was half lidded while he sported a lopsided smile that bordered on a smirk.

“Finally?” You sank into the seat, dropping your satchel onto the hardwood floor beside you with a sigh.

“Oh yes, your grade in my class is far from satisfactory.” Zhongli’s grin became tight while he spoke. The once playful glint in his eyes was taken over by a serious demeanor. Professor Zhongli.

You shifted forward, crossing your own legs to mimic his attitude.

“Yes sir, I’m sure you figured that’s why I’m here,” your voice sounded a lot more pathetic than you expected it to. It reminded you of the one time in high school when you begged your PE teacher to let you skip the FitnessGram Pacer test.

Let’s just say the second worst grade you’ve ever gotten was gym.

“I do,” Zhongli drawled, he now placed his arms on the desk, one hand remaining still while another gripped a pencil, “but truly, I’m not sure there’s much I can do for you.”

That was not what you had wanted nor expected to hear and your face reflected that. The whole wide-eyed mouth open shabang.

Zhongli released a breathy laugh at your expression, "there's nothing I can do for you but I believe you could help yourself.”

The anger you felt at his first dig was now bubbling back up, with more force. How many times could someone slyly insult you in one sitting?

¨And how could I do that sir?” Zhongli matched your attitude, pushing himself fully under the desk. His expression remained pleasant though, a nice albeit thin smile stretched across his face.

¨You could start by actually paying attention in class.”

Really? Like you hadn't just moved your seat to sit in the front of the class, mind you, BY YOURSELF. And all he had to offer is that your focus was still waning, it was though, only because you had the sexiest teacher ever though. Not from lack of effort on your part, so it’s not like it was truly your fault to start with.

Zhongli patiently waited for you to begin a retort before cutting you off with a demeaning wave of his hand, ¨Yes, yes, you moved. Like you should have from the start, you don't get a high five for doing what is expected of you. What I’d like to know is why you still struggle in my class, it’s definitely not from lack of opportunity.”

¨I assign plenty of extra credit, so I’m assuming it's not that.” Zhongli’s eyes flickered down, no not to your hidden bust, but to an open planner on his desk, before they met yours again. ¨Perhaps you should consider dropping my class.”

That finally made you bristle, visibly too, your eyes widened again as you recoiled. His words might as well have physically struck you. Being a good student meant that most teachers never had to criticize you, let alone act so sharp. His Zhongli’s blunt statements hurt in a way only a prideful student like you could feel.

You needed to act unbothered and hopefully, get under his skin too. Fixing your face into something a bit more stoic you started again.

“Doesn’t it reflect badly on a Professor if they have failing students?” You found your nails to be more interesting than meeting Zhongli’s intense gaze, his eyes seemed alight from the fierce way he stared at you.

What you didn’t expect was a throaty laugh from him, that pulled you from your nail inspection.

“Students, yes. One singular student, not so much.”

Negotiations had definitely fallen through.

Outwitting people was something you were good at. One thing that hurts more than having your ego bruised is having it body slammed when you find out you're not as good at something as you believed yourself to be.

Reading your reaction Zhongli chuckled again, “oh dear, not the answer you wanted was it?”

Your eyes couldn’t lift from the floor now, but even that served as a constant reminder of the stage you were hoping to walk on. Before any of this happened.

Zhongli’s voice pierced the silence, “Well, I have some time to help you study now, is that fine with you?”

Really there was only one choice, but you contemplated both regardless. You needed his help to bring up your grade and hopefully pass the upcoming exam but also, you didn’t want him to belittle you any further.

Maybe you could study on your own. In high school you reviewed for biology tests using the Amoeba Sisters. Did they even have anything like that for geography though?

When you found the courage to meet Zhongli’s eyes again, now lounging in his chair with his hands braced behind his head. Your ears tinted pink when you saw his lips, still in a smirk but not as wide.

Maybe you could deal with his taunting for an hour or two. For your grade of course! Not because he was gorgeous or anything. Although it helped.

“Fine,” decided to lighten the mood a bit you added, “hopefully you’re better at this than in class.”

Zhongli let out a breathy laugh while he leaned further back in his chair to glance at the clock. “Perhaps, though you may find my teaching methods unconventional.”

“Oh?” You dug into your satchel to find your textbook, “how so?”

Zhongli crossed his arms in front of himself before releasing a thoughtful groan, one that had your pupils blow open a fraction wider. “How about I quiz you, and for each question you get wrong..”

His gaze flickered from the sky of contemplation to you, “I could use a more… tactical approach. Like consequence and reward.”

As his smirk seemed to stretch, the air in the office became heavier. You blinked, believing you were imagining his suggestive voice.

“Consequence?” It’s not like your grade could get much lower so what could he do to harm you?

The pause that followed was thick with unspoken meaning, you didn’t dare move either. You were frozen in the plush chair, pinned by Zhongli’s half lidded stare.

“For each wrong answer, I could bend you over my knee and spank you.”

You blinked, then blinked again. Did he really just say that so calmly? Like he asked you to make a batch of flashcards. Heat rose to your already rosey cheeks, and you quickly looked away, feeling your heartbeat just a bit faster.

“You can’t be serious!”

“What’s wrong with that? It’s a straightforward form of discipline, it may even work on you.” The way he said the word you sent a chill down your spine. The word felt heavier, like he was implying that even someone of your caliber could understand.

You swallowed, hard. But you didn’t stand up from the chair, nor did you threaten to report him. Instead you stayed seated and actually considered his suggestion.

“What if I get the answers right?”

You seemed to be endless entertainment to Zhongli as he laughed again before retorting, “as unlikely as that maybe, we can come up with a suitable reward if that happened.”

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you completely ignored the ruder side of this comment.

Zhongli leaned in slightly as he gestured to the study materials laid out on his desk, “shall we begin? Or are you not going to be attentive enough again?”

He was challenging you, skillfully he goaded you

into playing his game, to participate in something where you both knew you were likely to lose. Maybe it was the lack of sleep that caused you to act so desperate. If you told on him now, you could probably drop the class without it being on your record, but a deeper desire helped guide your answer.

“I can focus,” you said, a little sharper than you had intended, “what’s the first question?”

Zhongli reached for the discarded textbook on his desk, flipping to a random page towards the middle. His smirk deepened as he read over the line.

“This is something we went over in class rather recently. Describe the process of orographic precipitation.”

Before you could catch yourself, your face fell. Your mind had blanked on you. And given the cruel grin Zhongli bore, he knew you wouldn’t know the answer.

Even though you vaguely remembered the name written on the board in class, the words didn’t arrange themselves in your head for you to create a clear answer with.

“I don’t remember,” you quickly added before Zhongli could speak, “this isn’t fair, you knew I wouldn’t know this.”

“I just opened the book, I didn’t choose the page at all.” His smug tone was nothing to match the satisfacted grin proudly stretched across his face.

“I also just mentioned we went over this in class so maybe it’s not any fault of mine anyway.”

No use in arguing with him especially because you did somewhat recall him going over it.

“Next question.”

For five whole minutes, Zhongli asked you question after question. Each of which you got pitifully wrong. As time went on you itched for Zhongli to end this sadistic game, which he was no doubt dragging out. Maybe to humiliate you, or maybe to tally up each incorrect answer and actually hit you for each of them.

Your face began to blush at the possibility of him actually spanking you. He probably only said it to get under your skin and hopefully get better results. If that was the case, you’d be very disappointed but also relieved, you didn’t want to get hit that much.

“—paying attention.”

“Latitude!” You exclaimed before shrinking in on yourself. You knew for a fact that the answer to whatever question he asked that ended in paying attention was definitely not latitude and nor would an answer be so simple with him.

Suddenly Zhongli stood up, dropping the textbook closed back onto his desk. His expression was somewhat pleased but also very annoyed. Once he reached your side of the desk, he grasped your wrist, pulling you to your feet. And with a gentle yet steady hold, he guided you to his side where he once again sat down, only to look up at you expectantly.

Zhongli’s black trousers made it hard to see any depth in his pants, but from the visible bulge you could make an educated guess on how he was feeling.

“Must I spell everything out for you? Lower your pants and bend knees over my legs.”

Face falling again, you tried to ask why that was necessary before Zhongli cut in with a sigh.

“How will I know it truly hurts if I’m not hitting your skin?”

That was almost a logical explanation if it wasn’t so sadistic. Your face must have been bright red with embarrassment as you unbuttoned your slacks. His honey eyes tracked your every move, as you lowered the fabric down your legs, then stepped out of them all together.

Feeling a bit relieved at your choice of black underwear, and not your hot pink ones, you slowly draped yourself across Zhongli’s lap.

Only a few seconds ago, you were speculating on if Zhongli was actually hard or not but now you could tell he was as his erection poked your waist.

You could feel his heat from his palm warming your plush flesh as he rubbed small circles on your ass above your underwear.

Then came the first hit. A sharp pain stretched across both mounds of soft tissue, the ache rippled down your legs and to your toes. Rebelliously, you bit your lip to hide any noises of discomfort or the subtle pleasure.

“Oh? After being shown just how pathetic you are, you refuse to even take your punishment correctly?”

The hand Zhongli had used to hold you flush against his lap, slipped to your face and squeezed your nose shut. In shock, you opened your mouth to protest but before you could, a much harder slap landed against your ass. A loud cry of pain— definitely not pleasure, tumbled from your lips.

Heavy tears traveled down your face and wet Zhongli’s pants.

“Two hits and you’re already crying?” He softly kneaded the skin before slapping it again, “no matter, I assumed if you weren’t good at school you’d be good at this.”

“But I am good at school! It’s just your stupid class—.”

A slap rang out in the room as Zhongli delivered the harshest slap yet. This time he didn’t rub the skin, instead he lifted you off his lap and placed you on the cold hardwood floor of his office. The coolness soothed your burning bottom.

“You may surprise me yet with some skill.”

You took only a second to wipe your tears before you heard the sound of Zhongli removing his belt. Instinctively, self preservation won because you scrambled back, hitting your head on the edge of Zhongli’s desk in the process. But shockingly enough, he didn’t wrap it around his hand to hit you harder.

Instead he placed it on the desk as he worked on undoing his slacks button and zipper. Once he finished that, Zhongli reached into his pants to pull out his penis.

Truth be told, you weren’t a prude, you’d had sexual encounters before, none that went past giving or receiving oral sex but still. Zhongli’s dick was pretty too though, a thick underside vein ran from the scrotum to his tip. The head itself was flushed, apparently the blush he lacked on his face his cock made up for.

Still, the size itself was impressive, you couldn’t tell how long it was but at least your fist and a half.

From the angle you sat on the floor at, you couldn’t tell if he had any hair but you doubted a man as well kept as Zhongli would be anyways.

Suddenly his hands shot out and grabbed you under your arms, turning you around and placing him on his lap. In this position his thighs rested between yours.

“I had considered making you suck me off when you eventually did come to see me about your grade but to think you were such an… abysmal student, we’ll just do this for now.”

Zhongli lifted your ass before sliding your panties to the side and thumbing your clit.

“You couldn’t even take your punishment honorably, not that I expected you too anyways..”

Zhongli droned on as he rubbed same circles on your pearl. Though you hadn’t heard a single word he said, not that you had the capacity to do so anyhow, his fingers skillfully manipulated you to putty in the man’s hands. His middle finger slipped to your entrance as he began to lethargically massage your g-spot.

You had heard of that area but, you nor your previous partners had been able to stimulate it the same way Zhongli was now.

Reached a new height as he introduced another finger, further pressing into the velvety zone.

Maybe it was because you hadn’t been touched in so long that you came so quickly but it happened regardless. Your orgasm washed over you like a tidal wave as Zhongli allowed you to ride it out. The pleasure was kin to a hot shower (that you would definitely be taking once this was over with) after a long day. One of those showers that you sit in the tub and let the water trickle down from your hair to your toes.

Once the pleasure was over though, it was done completely. Zhongli removed his hands before pushing you down into the desk, half of your face buried into a stack of ungraded papers. His hand pressed down between your shoulder blades effectively pinning you to the wood.

You heard the chair roll behind you as Zhongli stood up, his penis slipping in between your folds.

“Now that you’ve had your pleasure, I will be taking mine.”

Without further warning, Zhongli began to pierce you, inch by inch he sunk deeper in your quim. He wasn’t rough, nor was he forceful as he pressed on. His hand still remained placed on your back but his other trailed down your side before grabbing your hip and pulling you back onto him. So now not only was he entering you, he was pulling you back to meet him halfway.

Your lower body ached at the intrusion, as low moans of pain and contentment left you. It felt weird to be filled up like this but also so natural. Now you hated not going further than oral sex with anyone else.

When Zhongli was completely inside you, he stopped moving to sigh, “truly made for this. If all were to fail, you could always sell yourself. I’m sure you’d make a nice sum of mora.”

Words of protest were turned into lewd moans as Zhongli began to grind into you, not not thrusting but slowly rolling his hips. Remembering your setting you bit your lip again, in hopes of not drawing unwanted attention.

“Don’t,” Zhongli began to pick up the pace, no longer rocking but instead coming all the way out before pounding back into you, hitting that special sponge inside you. “Everyone has already left for the day.”

Your gasp was turned into a high pitched moan as Zhongli rammed into you particularly hard. Him knowing that no one was there let you know just how in control of the situation Zhongli was, with that came a shocking revelation. He probably planned this all along.

You weren’t given anymore time to think about that possibility as Zhongli slightly lifted your chest from the desk. Now that one of his hands no longer had to hold you down, it wrapped around to toy with your nipple.

The harsh pulling on the soft nub brought out more yells from you as he didn’t relent of his intent to bully his way into your womb.

“Look at you,” Zhongli cooed, “drooling on yourself.”

Although his words were embarrassing, they didn’t register in your mind as you tried to bounce in tandem with his thrusts. At least you attempted to before his grip on your hip tightened in warning.

That hand also slipped to the front and sloppily rubbed your clit, leaving you to support your rocking weight on unsteady arms. The sound of his hips meeting your sore ass sent resounding sharp claps into different corners of the room.

It felt like hours upon hours of Zhongli’s grunting in your ear, the sudden sharp pain shooting up your spine from your butt, him pinching your sensitive nipple.

Now his movements were a bit choppy as, you assumed, Zhongli was close to reaching his orgasm. As opposed to traveling faster, his cock was going deeper, looking to bury its head in your cushiony womb. Merely seconds before him, you came. A second mind numbing euphoria, almost as rich as the last one covered you like a heated blanket. Your eyes squeezed closed as you were captured in bliss.

Just as sudden as it had started, it ended, as Zhongli emptied himself inside you. After a few seconds of his warm seed spurting inside you. The room was still hot with both of your gasps as Zhongli’s musky cologne permeated your senses from behind you.

Following your shared daze, he pulled out of you, allowing his semen to also drip onto the floor. You collapsed face first onto your geography textbook. Behind you, Zhongli’s leather seat creaked as he fell onto the chair. The sound of a draw opening made you aware enough to open your eye a little bit.

Zhongli's fingers came into view as he held a small tablet, “It’s a plan b.”

Opening your mouth to allow him to place the pill on your tongue you shut your eye again. You wanted the moment to never end, the nerve damaging pleasure you experienced tonight was truly life changing, but your momentary reprieve was ruined by the sound of Zhongli redoing his pants. In the midst of cleaning himself up, he rubbed up and down your back gently.

“You’re earned an A for the quarter by the way.”

~

Quick end note. Do you think Zhongli have a plan b implies that he’s done this before or that he prepared for you really well?

[toodleoorblx]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐔𝐧𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐟 𝐀𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐚 𝐇𝐚𝐫𝐤𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬

Agatha Harkness x Rio Vidal Word count: 4,841

Summary: Agatha finds her brooch, and sees someone who is incapable of death. (Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - /?) Warnings: cursing, angst, scars, burn scars, toxic relationship, agony, needles. A/N: Chapter twooooo

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟐 ꧁𝐀𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐬 𝐓𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐬꧂

Agatha’s thoughts churn like a storm. She’s barely keeping her fury in check, her chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, her nails digging into her palms. It's been a few hours since she first came. It’s been nothing but silence from everyone. And Agatha reckons that she's the reason why. They seem close to each other. More or less. Agatha has not yet told them her name, (though she learned there's against her will), her name normally evokes fear into those who hear it. Agatha wants to use that to her advantage. She’ll use her name as a ticket, if anyone decides to fuck with her, she’ll announce who she is. Because Agatha is the only one in this room who doesn't have any magic. She doesn't know what they are capable of.

Agatha glances around the room, noticing how small it actually is. Agatha has always despised being in cramped spaces with too many people. It’s like the walls are closing in, making it impossible to breathe. Her mind drifts to Evanora, who once exploited that very weakness.

She tries to focus, but her thoughts keep circling back to the conversation she had with Alice. Anonymous Adversaries. She’d already known they were bad news, but hearing Alice explain their true nature had confirmed one thing: Agatha is in deep shit.

They aren’t just some rogue group of witches—they’re a cult. A twisted, fanatical coven that thrives on experimentation, constantly testing the boundaries of magic, pushing witches to their limits to discover new powers. But that’s not the worst part. No, what makes Agatha’s skin crawl is the way they worship their work. It’s not just experimentation—it’s ritual, obsession. Jennifer had said they have altars. Many altars. The word alone sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine.

She’s dealt with cultish witches before—drained them dry, in fact—but these people are something else entirely. They take blood magic to a new level, a grotesque devotion to the craft. And to make things worse, the Witches' Council condones it, lets them carry on their horrific work without consequence. Agatha always loathed the Council. She’s kept her distance from them, preferring to live by her own rules, far from the grip of so-called "authority." She always figured they’d leave her alone as long as she left them alone. That’s probably why she never heard of the AA—as the boy calls them.

Agatha sits on the cold white tiles, her knees pulled up to her chest, the coolness of the wall pressing against her back. She’s trying to think, but the oppressive heat and the weight of the situation gnaw at her. Her piercing blue eyes flicker to the others in the room.

The boy named… she cant remember, she’ll call him Tenn she suppouses. Teen sits cross-legged on the floor, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. He looks like he hasn’t slept in days. He has dark circles under his eyes, his deep brown eyes are like voids. Scars snake up his hands and forearms—burn scars, twisted and discolored, as though he’s been through something unspeakable. He absently picks at them, his expression dark, eyes filled with a hatred Agatha knows all too well. It’s the kind of hatred that festers, the kind that rots you from the inside out.

Alice is standing, her eyes are closed, her head is tilted back against the cold wall, she looks awake. Her arms are crossed. There aren't any visible scars on her. Agatha wonders how all the witches got here. Not that she cares enough to ask, but it crosses her mind. For now? She has bigger questions.

Lilia perches on the edge of the bunk bed, her posture alert but weary. Agatha notices scars lining her palms, and a thin, deep slit on her neck—healed, but unmistakable. More signs of what these people have endured. Each scar tells a story, but Agatha doesn’t care to hear them. She’s not here to make friends, and trust is a currency she’s unwilling to spend.

Jennifer is sprawled on the top bunk, her long limbs hanging lazily over the edge, like she owns the place. Agitation simmers in the room, but she seems almost… relaxed. Bored, if anything. Agatha's eyes flicker toward her, narrowing with disdain. Jennifer has a small scar on her jaw—barely noticeable, unlike the jagged marks that mar the other witches. But there’s something about her that grates on Agatha's nerves. Maybe it's her overconfidence, the way she exudes this casual arrogance, like nothing and no one here can touch her. It pisses Agatha off.

Jennifer is fidgeting with something—her fingers twisting a small object over and over. A glint catches Agatha’s eye.

Wait.

Agatha’s heart stumbles. Her hand flies to her chest in a panic. Her brooch. It's gone.

Her breath quickens as her hands frantically pat down her body, searching every pocket, every fold in the thin hospital gown she’s wearing. Cold dread sinks into her stomach as her fingers meet nothing but fabric. She feels exposed, vulnerable.

She stands up and spins in place, eyes darting around the room like a caged animal searching for a way out.

Alice pushes off the wall, her expression a mix of confusion and concern. She glances at Jennifer, who’s finally sat up, her brows raising as she watches Agatha lose control.

“Uhm… Is she… okay?” Jennifer asks. She swings her legs over the bunk and hops down. “She can’t already be going crazy, can she?” Her tone is mocking, but Agatha doesn’t care. Her chest tightens with fury as she searches the floor.

“Ughhh, where is the damn thing!” Agatha snarls through gritted teeth, her frustration boiling over. She drops to her knees, clawing at the cold tile beneath the bed, throwing the thin mattress aside. Her fingers scrape the floor, searching for something—anything.

Finally, she snaps her gaze toward the others, her blue eyes wild with rage. “Do any of you have it?” Her voice is low and dangerous, a growl of pure venom.

Jennifer scoffs, crossing her arms. “We don’t even know what you’re looking for, smartass. Maybe give us a clue instead of throwing accusations around.” She gestures to the witches.

Agatha’s eyes flash with something murderous. Before she can launch herself at Jennifer, Alice steps between them, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace. “Alright, alright, let’s just—calm down, everyone,” Alice says quickly, trying to defuse the tension before it explodes.

Agatha ignores her. Her eyes lock onto the boy—Teen, she thinks, but she doesn’t care enough to remember his name. He hasn’t moved from his spot on the cold floor, his thin body hunched in a miserable huddle. His eyes are wide, filled with alarm.

“You,” Agatha spits, her voice cutting through the room like a whip.

The boy glances up, startled, his pale face growing paler. “M-me?” His voice is a shaky whisper.

“Who the fuck else?” Agatha’s words are laced with venom, her hands clenching into fists as she stalks toward him. She crosses the room in quick, furious strides, her face twisted in a snarl. Without warning, she grabs him by the shoulders and slams him against the wall, her nails digging into his flesh. He yelps in pain, his breath hitching as she lifts him up, pinning him there with a strength that seems impossible for her slender frame.

The boy’s breathing becomes ragged, his eyes wide with fear, but there’s a flicker of something else there—determination, maybe defiance, but weak and trembling under the weight of her fury.

“You were looking awfully suspicious over here, kiddo,” Agatha hisses, her face inches from his. “Got anything that doesn’t belong to you?” She gives him another shove against the wall, her fingers tightening. His skin is cold and clammy under her touch.

“Where is it?!” Agatha roars, shaking him roughly.

"Get off him, you bitch, he's just a child!" Lilia shouts, her voice shaking with anger. “He didn’t steal whatever—"

Before she can finish, the boy—his jaw clenched tight, his body trembling with a mix of fear and defiance—interrupts. "Fine. Do you want it? Have it." His voice is sharp, laced with bitter resentment. Reaching into the pocket of his hospital gown, he pulls out Agatha’s brooch and, with a flick of his wrist, throws it across the room. The small, silver artifact arcs through the air, clattering against the white wall with a dull thud before dropping to the floor.

Agatha immediately releases him, her grip loosening as she bolts for the brooch. Her heart pounds as she reaches it, hands trembling slightly as she picks it up, inspecting it with sharp eyes. It’s intact, untouched, thanks to the centuries-old protection spell she wove into its metal long ago. A flood of relief washes over her as she cradles it close to her chest, her eyes falling shut for a moment. Her magic, her essence, lies within this object. Losing it would’ve been catastrophic.

Breathing in deeply, Agatha opens her eyes and slowly turns to face the others. She catches the looks they give her. Alice’s face is twisted in fury, her fists clenched at her sides. Jennifer wears an expression of mock offense, though her narrowed eyes show a sliver of disdain. Lilia’s gaze is one of disappointment, her lips pressed into a thin line as she crosses her arms. And the boy—Teen—is rubbing his arm where she had gripped him, the bruising already visible on his pale skin.

For a moment, the weight of her actions lingers in the air like static. Agatha sees the mark she left on him, the way he winces when his fingers brush the bruise. She knows she was rougher than she intended, but the sight doesn’t move her. If anything, it reinforces her superiority—he should’ve known better than to take what was hers.

Clearing her throat, Agatha stands tall, flipping her dark hair back over her proud shoulders. Her posture straightens, regal and unyielding, her chin lifting as if to remind them all who she is. The momentary vulnerability she felt is gone, replaced by her usual arrogance.

“It’s bad form to take something that’s not yours… Teen,” she says, her voice dripping with condescension. Her cold, blue eyes lock on his, daring him to challenge her again.

He scoffs, a hint of anger flashing in his gaze. "My name is—"

Agatha cuts him off with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Like I give a shit, dear.” Her eyes roll, the conversation already beneath her.

__

Agatha sits on the cold, hard floor of their shared cage, the only sound in the room the faint, rhythmic breathing of the others as they sleep. Whoever runs this hellhole has turned off the lights for the night, casting the room in thick, oppressive darkness. According to Lilia, this is routine. But Agatha can’t sleep—won’t sleep—not here, not surrounded by strangers.

The bunk beds, big enough to cram two or three people per level, are all occupied. Alice, always on edge, sleeps lightly beside Jennifer, whose chest rises and falls steadily. The woman sleeps as if nothing could possibly disturb her—a dreamless, peaceful slumber. Lilia, on the bottom bunk, shares her space with the boy—Teen, Agatha still hasn’t learned his name. He’s curled up tightly, shivering even beneath the blankets. His face is scrunched up in distress, his body trembling faintly with each breath.

Agatha tilts her head, watching him for a moment, curiosity flickering through her mind. What’s he dreaming about? Is it something that happened to him here? Or somewhere else? She had almost forgotten—these witches had lives before being captured. They weren’t born in this cage like prisoners of fate. The thought strikes her as odd; she hasn’t considered them as anything other than pawns in the same twisted game she’s been thrown into.

Her contemplation is interrupted by a soft voice from the darkness.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping, dearie?” Lilia asks, her voice groggy but alert. Agatha flinches, not having noticed Lilia’s eyes were open, faintly glowing as they peer through the shadows. Lilia lies just below Teen, her head tilted slightly, her gaze fixated on Agatha. Even in the dark, she feels those eyes boring into her, weighing her.

Agatha quickly recovers, scoffing lightly as she presses a hand to her chest in mock offense. “Are you implying… I can’t have my own sleep schedule?” she quips, her tone dripping with sarcasm, her words meant to deflect.

Lilia lets out a small sigh. “You have insomnia too?”

Agatha pauses. She hadn’t thought about it like that. “No,” she says, her voice thoughtful, almost distant. “I’m not an insomniac. I’m... nocturnal.” There’s a smirk in her voice, the faintest trace of humor as she remembers the spell she cast on herself decades ago. The enchantment allowed her to survive on less sleep, so she could study and practice magic uninterrupted, without the constraints of time. Ah, the efficiency... But now, in this cage, without her magic—without her freedom—it’s a cruel irony.

Gods, how she misses the escape of sleep.

Lilia chuckles softly, a sound so foreign in this place that it takes Agatha by surprise. For a moment, Agatha’s brow furrows, her mind reeling at how strange it feels to hear someone laugh at her joke—at her—after all these years. She pushes the thought aside, unwilling to dwell on it.

“So,” Agatha says, her voice lowering as she shifts slightly on the floor. “How long have you been in this place? You all seem to, uh, have a story.” Her tone is casual, but there’s a clear implication in her words. She’s referring to the scars, the bruises, the broken parts of these witches that she can see even in the dim light.

Lilia falls silent for a moment, the weight of Agatha’s question hanging in the air between them. She seems to understand what Agatha is really asking.

“...Everyone in this place has their ‘stories’,” Lilia finally replies, her voice soft but tinged with a quiet bitterness. It’s a truth that doesn’t need elaboration; the scars, both seen and unseen, speak for themselves.

Agatha clenches her jaw, her fingers absently tracing the edges of her mother’s brooch, the familiar weight grounding her, even here. Her mind races, but she tries to appear calm. She’s always been curious, but the question that escapes her lips surprises even her.

"...What happened to the kid?" Her voice is rough, raspier than usual. She isn’t used to caring about other people’s stories, but something about the boy… it nags at her. Maybe it’s the scars, or the way he seems haunted, as if he's already been through hell despite his youth.

Lilia doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, the silence stretches on, heavy and uncomfortable. Finally, she sighs softly. “...I don't know. It's not something that's easily brought up, for any of us. He doesn’t want to talk about it. We don’t.”

Agatha hums, though the sound is more out of habit than genuine interest. That was a buzzkill, she thinks. The mystery will remain, at least for now. Maybe one day, she’ll find out what broke the boy so badly. But today isn't that day. She doesn’t care enough to dig deeper—not yet.

She shifts on the cold tile, her body tense from sitting on the floor for so long. That’s when it happens.

A tingle.

A strange, electric sensation starts crawling over her skin, creeping through her limbs like pins and needles. It feels like a slow burn at first, but then—then it gets sharper. Hotter. Lighter.

No...

Agatha's breath catches in her throat, her pulse quickening. Her eyes snap wide, panic settling in her gut like lead.

Magic.

It’s unmistakable. Magic. But not hers. She’d know her own magic anywhere, would recognize its feel, its signature. This? This is foreign. Yet… Familiar. 

The air around her pulses with it, vibrating as if the magic is alive. She scans the room frantically, her gaze darting from one sleeping figure to the next. None of them are awake, none of them are casting.

Then whose is it?

Her body starts to tremble, the tingling sensation growing, overtaking her muscles. Her legs feel weightless, her arms too light to be real. Fucking hell, her mind swears, but her voice is lost. She gasps for breath, her mouth slightly ajar, sucking in air that feels too thick, too hot.

Lilia watches from the bunk, her eyes barely visible in the dim light but unmistakably wide. “Well, shit,” she mutters, her voice rough with surprise.

Agatha whips her head toward Lilia, desperation clear in her eyes. “Whose magic is this?!” she hisses, her voice trembling along with her limbs.

Lilia’s eyes narrow, scanning the room like a predator sensing danger, her expression unreadable. “Someone is—”

But before she can finish, everything around Agatha explodes into a bright, searing green light.

Blinding.

The room vanishes. The witches vanish. Reality warps and bends, and Agatha is swallowed by the overwhelming rush of magic. It surges through her body, pulling her under like a tidal wave she can’t escape. Every muscle locks, her vision distorts, and her mind plunges into darkness.

She blacks out.

__

Agatha’s eyes flutter open, her vision swimming through a haze of confusion and dull pain. Her head feels like it’s been filled with lead, every blink heavier than the last. The lights around her are mercifully dim—nothing like the blinding fluorescence from before. But something about the darkened room gnaws at her nerves. As her vision sharpens, a sinking realization hits.

She’s bound. Tightly.

Her wrists and ankles are strapped to a cold metal chair, and as soon as she tries to pull against them, the restraints bite into her skin. Panic flares for a moment as she jerks, trying to break free, but the leather straps hold firm. She groans in frustration, her pulse quickening as she frantically assesses her surroundings.

How the fuck does she keep getting caught in these situations? Two hundred years ago, things weren’t this complicated. But now—now it feels like she's constantly being caged. The room around her is shrouded in shadows, but she can make out just enough in the dim light. And what she sees sends a chill crawling up her spine.

The place reeks of dark magic.

Every surface is cluttered with strange plants, vials filled with glowing liquids, lanterns, herbs she recognizes, and bones—scattered, hanging, arranged in ritualistic patterns. It’s almost a mirror of her lair. The air is thick with the familiar scent of earth and decay. It makes her stomach turn. She shudders. This is the kind of place she would have crafted for herself. Hell, it smells like Rio’s lair.

She lets out a bitter laugh, her dry lips curling into a sneer. "Fuck..."

A sharp ache blooms in her leg, radiating from the bandaged wound. Agatha grits her teeth, stifling the groan that tries to escape her throat. The pain is real, tangible, and it's getting worse. But she’s dealt with worse. She always has.

“Riiiiiiooooooo,” Agatha drawls, her voice dripping with mockery as her head swivels around, eyes narrowing, searching the shadows. She knows exactly whose magic has her trapped here. She feels it in her bones. “I know you’re in here, sweetcheeks.” Agatha licks her lips, her voice low and taunting. “Come out, come out, wherever you are…”

The taunt hangs in the air, but her confidence falters when a sharp pulse of pain rips through her leg. "Fuck..." She mutters under her breath, biting down on her lip hard enough to draw blood. The copper taste grounds her, keeps her steady. She won’t give Rio the satisfaction of seeing her in pain.

She glances up, her eyes sweeping over the room—and then she freezes.

There she is.

Rio stands just beyond the shadows, her silhouette sharp and striking, her presence almost suffocating in its intensity. The soft light catches on her tan skin, glowing with a warmth that Agatha both loathes and craves. Her dark hair cascades down her shoulders, disheveled but somehow perfect in its imperfection. Agatha’s eyes narrow, hatred and desire swirling in a volatile mix as they meet Rio’s.

And that smirk.

That condescending, amused smirk curls Rio’s lips, like she’s toying with Agatha, like she’s already won. Agatha’s pulse quickens for entirely different reasons now. She wants to rip that smug look off Rio’s face with her teeth, wants to splatter her skin with blood and magic. But just as much (maybe more), she wants to grab Rio by the hair and kiss her until neither of them can breathe.

Rio stands before Agatha like a haunting specter of the past, exuding effortless confidence. Her black leggings cling to her legs, streaked with earthy brown lines that start from her torso and stop just shy of her thighs—one of those small, stylish touches that could only be Rio. She’s wearing one of her custom tops, the intricate pattern running down her sides almost distracting in its beauty. And over it all, the jacket—tailored, fitted, and distinctively hers. But it’s the dagger in her hand that steals Agatha’s attention.

Rio tosses it into the air, and the blade catches the dim light from the nearby lanterns, a deadly glint flashing for just a moment before it drops back into her grasp. The ease with which she moves, the fluidity—it’s mesmerizing.

Ethereal.

Agatha clenches her jaw at the absurd thought, suppressing the heat rising in her cheeks. She would never admit such a thing, not even under torture. But there’s no denying it—Rio looks as sharp and lethal as ever.

"What the fuck are you doing here?" Agatha seethes internally. Rio isn’t someone who gets tangled up in cults. Agatha knows her ex-wife too well for that. There’s always a larger game being played, especially when Rio is involved.

Suddenly, Rio’s voice cuts through the air, low and teasing, dripping with that familiar taunt. "Oye, mami, mierda, parece que tuviste un mal día."

Agatha scoffs, hating the way her body reacts to the sound of that voice, the heat crawling up her neck. She growls in response, masking the fluster with defiance. “What are you doing here, Rio? Didn’t take you for the cult type.”

Rio shrugs with a careless, almost feline grace, her movements slow and deliberate as she crosses the room. “I’m not.” Her voice is thick with amusement as she leans against a cluttered table, casually twirling the dagger. “But what better way to get fresh bodies than to infiltrate a witching cult obsessed with witches? You’d be surprised at the number of souls I’ve led out of here.”

Agatha sneers, her lip curling. “So what, you just lie around all day, waiting for your precious bodies to roll in?”

Rio’s chuckle is soft but dangerous as she flips her hair over her shoulder with a practiced ease that only Agatha would recognize. She used to do that. She still does that. Rio had picked it up from her. The small detail makes Agatha’s stomach twist.

“Nope. I’ll have you know I’m their doctor.” Rio says with a smirk, her dark eyes gleaming. “I heal their… patients, injuries. Sometimes.” There’s an unmistakable pride in her voice, a kind of twisted joy in her role here, as though her hands play both healer and executioner.

Agatha’s eyes narrow as she watches Rio slip on some surgical gloves, her focus shifting to the collection of vials and potions scattered across it. Each one is strange, glowing, and undoubtedly dangerous. Agatha’s heart races as she takes in the scene, her mind spinning with every possibility.

“What… what are you looking for?” Agatha asks, her voice betraying a touch of wariness. She won’t show fear. She refuses. But Rio knows her too well—knows every crack in her armor.

Rio hums absentmindedly, sorting through the vials with casual indifference. “Oh, nothing much.” Her fingers glide over the glass, pausing before plucking a glowing green vial from the assortment. “Aha!” She holds it up triumphantly, her eyes flickering with mischief.

Agatha’s throat tightens as she watches Rio pick up a syringe from the table, extracting the glowing liquid with expert precision. The green substance swirls inside the syringe like poison, and Agatha feels a spike of panic claw at her chest.

“Rio…” Her voice cracks, her earlier bravado starting to slip. Agatha yanks at her restraints again, her muscles burning with effort as adrenaline surges through her. She pulls harder, her body thrumming with fight-or-flight urgency, but the bonds don’t give. Fear starts to creep in, a feeling she thought long buried.

Rio glances at her, amused. "Nuh uh, mami," she says with a soft tsk. "Te lastimarás si sigues tirando. No tardará mucho, te lo prometo."

Agatha’s snarl echoes through the dim room. “¡Aléjame esa mierda misteriosa!” she shouts, her voice raw as she yanks against the restraints, pain shooting through her wrists as the leather bites into her skin.

Rio's expression shifts, softening in a way that’s almost disarming when Agatha speaks Spanish. It’s a language they used to share—intimate, once. “I’ll be gentle, mami,” Rio purrs, kneeling between Agatha’s legs, her presence suffocating in its intensity. Each of Agatha’s ankles is bound to a chair leg, leaving her vulnerable, utterly at Rio’s mercy. Agatha thrashes, but the restraints hold tight, offering no escape.

Rio’s free hand reaches up, fingers brushing the side of Agatha’s face with an unexpected tenderness. She tilts Agatha’s head back, exposing her neck with an air of quiet reverence. “Perfection,” Rio murmurs, her voice low, a hushed, almost sacred tone that sends a shiver down Agatha’s spine.

Agatha's breath catches at the sound of Rio's praise, a knot of emotion twisting deep inside her, but she quickly shakes it off, refusing to let Rio get inside her head.

The needle hovers over her skin, poised and ready. Agatha feels its presence even before it touches her—cold and menacing. The moment it pierces her flesh, sharp and deliberate, she tenses. A strangled groan escapes her lips, the pain brief but sharp.

And then the real agony begins.

A scream tears from Agatha’s throat as the burning starts, searing its way through her veins like liquid fire. She jerks against the restraints, her body convulsing as the burning intensifies, spreading with every agonizing pulse. It’s like her blood is turning to molten lava, boiling her from the inside out. Agatha gasps, choking on her own breath, every inhale shallow and desperate as if her lungs can’t find enough air. Her entire body trembles, muscles locking in violent spasms.

Her fingers dig into the wooden armrests, nails splintering under the pressure, and her eyes squeeze shut, trying to block out the overwhelming sensation, but it’s everywhere. It’s too much. The pain is all-consuming, drowning her in its depths.

“Make it stop,” she gasps, voice cracking, tears of pain and desperation pricking at the corners of her eyes. “Please… make it stop…”

Rio watches, her expression calm, almost serene, as if this is nothing more than a natural process. She slips off her gloves with practiced ease and reaches for Agatha, her fingers threading through Agatha's sweat-drenched hair. She strokes it gently, tucking stray strands behind Agatha’s ear with a tenderness that feels perverse in the face of such agony.

“Shhh, mi vida,” Rio whispers, leaning in close, her breath hot against Agatha’s skin. Her lips press soft kisses to Agatha’s neck, tracing a path along the sensitive flesh, her voice a soothing murmur between the sharp bursts of pain. “I know it hurts. I know… but it’ll be over soon.”

Agatha shudders, her breaths coming in shallow gasps as the fire in her veins rages on, the heat consuming her from the inside out.

“Three,” Rio’s voice is steady, unwavering, like she’s counting down to something inevitable.

“Two…”

The pain flares once more, a final burst of unbearable heat surging through Agatha’s body, and she cries out, her voice breaking.

“One.”

And then, like the flick of a switch, it stops.

The pain vanishes—completely, utterly gone. One moment, she’s drowning in agony, and the next, there’s nothing. Agatha slumps in the chair, her body spent, breath heaving in ragged gulps as she fights to catch her breath. Her skin tingles, still buzzing from the aftershocks of whatever Rio injected into her, but there’s no pain. It’s as if it never happened.

Agatha’s head hangs low, her limbs trembling as she struggles to regain some semblance of control. Her chest rises and falls with labored breaths, her throat dry and raw. It takes her a moment to find her voice again, and when she does, it’s hoarse, barely more than a whisper.

“W-what… what did you f-fucking do to me?” she rasps, her voice broken, head still bowed.

Rio tilts her head, standing over her, dark eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “The Anonymous Adversaries’ newest creation,” she says, her tone almost casual, like she’s discussing the weather. She twirls the empty syringe between her fingers, amusement dancing in her expression. “Artificial magic.”

__

Aspectus Tristis = Grim Glances

"Hey, mommy, shit, looks like you had a bad day." = "Oye, mami, mierda, parece que tuviste un mal día".

"Nuh uh, mommy. You'll hurt yourself if you keep yanking. This won't take long I promise." = "No, mami, te lastimarás si sigues tirando. No tardará mucho, te lo prometo."

"Get that mystery shit away from me!" = "¡Aléjame esa mierda misteriosa!"

Mi vida = My life

[fern-writes-whump]

Write vampires for me >:3

hi >:3

I made two whole ass new characters for this because the brainrot runs deep this time. I'll post a little blurb about the characters later, for now have this ✨✨

I'm 100% writing more of this but I need a better idea for the plot other than "pining"

content: vampire ch, mentions of blood, mention of self harm (not graphic), mentions of violence

"What are you doing?" Finn would have jumped a foot in the air if he still had the strength to do anything more than limp from his bed to the kitchen and back again. So he limited himself to simply shrieking a rather creative string of curses, and turning around to glare at his roommate. The same roommate who, he might add, shouldn't even be awake given it was nearly three am.

He swallowed before addressing him, still clutching at his heart like an outraged old lady. "What the fuck August?" He stared at him some more, then, sure his disgruntled expression had gotten across everything it needed to, he turned his attention back to the fridge. He opened it, squinting at the dim light that was still managing to give him a headache.

"You look like shit." August sounded almost annoyed, like he was the one having the worst week of his life and not, you know, just the guy who had the misfortune to witness it.

"Thank you, I try." He muttered, rummaging through boxes of leftovers and half-empty bottles of condiments. He would have loved to make more of a joke out of it, banter like he usually did before disappearing back into his room. But he truly didn't have the energy for it. The taller man sighed and crossed his arms over his chest. Finn didn't need to turn around to know he wasn't amused.

"You need to eat, Finn." His voice was gentler this time, making Finn's shoulders slump.

He grabbed a random container and shut the fridge door, leaving the only faint illumination in the room coming from the corridor. He popped the lid off of the container, revealing two-day-old meatloaf, and shook it a little in front of August. "I am."

"You know it doesn't do anything."

"Stops me feeling hungry." Finn shrugged, retrieving a fork and pushing the meat around like the motion might make it more appealing.

"Does it stop the dizziness? The migraines? The cramps?"

Finn let the fork clatter to the counter and threw his hands up in both frustration and surrender. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to eat."

"I can't do that. I'm not-" He inhaled and held his breath for a few seconds. "I'm not doing that." His tone was final, they had already had this argument and he didn't want to repeat it another time. He hadn't slept since the night he was attacked. It wasn't even the hunger, it was the fact that every time he closed his eyes he could feel that pain again. He would rather starve than become the same monster that had ruined him.

"And what, starve?" August dragged a hand across his face, surely suppressing all the colorful appellatives he wanted to use at that moment. "I'm not going to just sit here and watch as you let yourself die, Finn."

The silence was heavy. For a minute or so they just stood there, looking each other in the eyes. Neither had said it up until that point. August had brought up feeding multiple times and Finn had always refused, but they had always tiptoed around what that actually meant. If Finn refused blood for much longer he was going to die, properly this time. As sure as he thought he was of his plans, hearing it still knocked the wind out of him.

"I. I can't… I don't-" He cut himself off when August stepped forward and he instinctively stumbled back a few feet. Not that it made a difference, he could smell him from anywhere in the apartment. That was another thing he refused to say out loud. He could feel how alive he was, and he craved it. It terrified him to no end. He silently watched August walk past him and rummage in a drawer, puzzled at first, then shocked when he turned around holding a knife.

He took another step back, colliding clumsily with a cabinet. "What are you doing?" His behavior up to this point didn't really hint at any murderous intent, especially since he was the sole advocate for Finn to not die left in the apartment.

August's voice was shaking ever so slightly, but his hands were not. "You're hungry. It doesn't matter if you don't want to feed. If you smell blood then you'll drink it." He balled his left hand into a fist and hovered the knife above his wrist. He stared at it for a few seconds then at Finn.

"That- that's the entire problem!" He shouted. He didn't know if he should press himself further into the corner he had backed himself into or if he should dive for the knife. "I- I don't know if I would be able to control myself!" He took a careful step forward, his hands open in front of him. "August, don't do anything stupid." He looked at him, then at the knife, still out of reach.

August huffed, shaking his head. "Don't make me do anything stupid then." He huffed and set the knife down on the counter. In two quick strides, he was by Finn's side, way too close for comfort.

"Please." He didn't say anything else, simply raising his arm between them, an unmistakable offer. It took every ounce of self-control in Finn's body not to jump on him right then and there. And that was why he couldn't accept. That was why he didn't have a choice.

With trembling hands, he reached for August's forearm and held onto it like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

"I don't want to hurt you."

August had the audacity to roll his eyes. Finn was nauseous with the anxiety of potentially killing someone and the fucker rolled his eyes at it. "You won't. I trust you."

If that was supposed to ease his nerves, it had the opposite effect. How could he trust him? He barely trusted himself. He swallowed and nodded. He had no idea what was about to happen to either of them, but he was too hungry to think anymore.

He slowly lowered his head, bringing his lips to the soft skin of August's wrist. He could hear his heart hammering in his chest. He was scared. He didn't want to show it but he was.

Finn glanced up at the other man, letting his eyes linger there for a moment before finally sinking his teeth into his skin.

[mintymelty]

YHS: A Serialization [] 4. The Undertaking- Actually-Doing-It Phase

⚠️WARNING! This episode contains uncensored cursing, threats of violence and weapons! (No graphic violence, tho)⚠️

════ ⋆💙⋆ ════

It’s been fifteen minutes since lunch started. I’m currently hiding out in the girl’s restroom plotting a new way in. Why? The coach walked out and (get this) LOCKED BOTH THE BOYS AND GIRLS LOCKER ROOM.

💙: (Crap! There goes plan A.)

I should have seen this coming. Yamada High doesn’t seem like the type of school to just let their precious locker rooms be potentially vandalized. Unlike my old schools.

Argh! Why is it so cold in here all of a sudden! It’s like…

The vents are loose…

Well, I could use the toilet seat as a step-stool. What’s the worst that could happen?

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

💙: (OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH OH MY GOSH I’M GONNA FREEZE TO DEATH.)

💙: (WHYYYYY did I think this was a good idea?? It’s so cramped and wet and dark and gross-)

💙:(Whatever, 50 dollars is 50 doll-)

❓: “.. ᴵ’ᵐ ˢᵒʳʳʸ⁻“

💙: (Oh! Is that… the nerd from P.E.?)

💙: (Is he in the showers? Am I close?)

❗️: “Don’t bother. If you won’t tell me where the pendant is-“

💙: (…And Austin? He wants the pendant too?!)

❗️: “I’ll cut it out of you.”

💙: (Oh…shit! I have to do something!)

🖤: “Stay back! Get away from me-“

💙: (Uh.. is there any way i could.. drop something??)

🖤: “I don’t know where the pendant is! LEAVE ME ALONE!”

💙: (Crapcrapcrap there’s gotta be a something I could hit Austin with-)

❗️: “You can’t even keep track of your own pendant?”

🖤: “It was a gift- I didn’t know it was that important to you-“

❗️: “I don’t give a fuck about that stupid piece of plastic, it’s about what inside-“

*THWACK!*

❗️: “Agh! my head-“

◁◁ ► ▷▷

I did it! I pulled out some screws in a vent opening and threw that thing at Austin! Squeaky footsteps followed and Kai dashed out of the stall (that’s why he couldn’t just run away- they were both in a bathroom stall) and it seems like Austin gave up the chase- for now.

❗️: “Whatever, I need some ice. Don’t wanna be out of commission for training.”

…Y’know it’s hard to believe that a monster that would’ve stabbed a kid can just go about their day like nothing happened. Scary.

Anyways! I’m pretty sure the showers are empty now. Time to find the pendant!

◁◁ ▐ ▌ ▷▷

💙: “Where is it? I’ve been looking everywhere- did she-“

💙: “There you are! Come to mama-“

❤️: “Are you lost?”

💙: “ArE yOu lOst babY gIrl- OH MY GOSH you’re actually there-“

Standing right behind me was some emo-looking dude wearing a hoodie. His hair was an unnatural shade of red and looked like it needed to be brushed. I really need to work on my street-smart game.

❤️: “…are you looking for something?”

💙: “Ummm…. yeah! I kinda like… don’t know where the girl’s restroom is-“

❤️: “Well it’s not here. Get out and take a left. It’s right next door. Not sure how you’d miss the sign.”

💙: “… O.K.! Thank you, kind stranger-“

💙: “…And he left.”

💙: (More like weird stranger.)

◁◁ ► ▷▷

The locket is… odd. For something Olivia was willing to pay 50 dollars for, it was almost comical how cheap it was. For starters, it’s made of plastic. And so is the “gem”.

Not to mention the weird snake symbol on the back…

Oh well! 50 dollars is 50 dollars! The day’s pretty much over, anyways.

════ ⋆💙⋆ ════

[little-mouse-gardens]

🌸Rottmnt oc head-cannons🌸

Part 1 : Marcy

So I’m gonna be doing hcs for sunny, Marcy, Skye and Angie but I won’t be going in order. This will just be random hcs I have for them as well as their relationships with the turtles.

Right now Im gonna start off with Marcy!

- marcy likes to go thrift shopping for old clothes she can re-vamp, somehow comes home with like a box full of clothes and fabrics. Uses as inspiration for designing new clothes and items in her sketchbook.

- has a space in her room for Donatello to come hang out and relax if he needs a little bit of peace and quiet away from his brothers. Makes sure none of the gadgets he makes over in her room are messed with or damaged.

- her and Donatellos first date took place at an 80s themed pizza restaurant. They gave each other a gift, he made her a upgraded version of a switch and she made him a purple satin jacket with his genius tech trademark and his name on the back.

- one of her favorite snacks is strawberry pop-tarts and mini waffles

- her and Donnie like to learn from one another. They listen to each other info-dump about each others interests and hyper-fixations. The both of them do enjoy and love working together, she may or may not have her own workbench in his lab and a spot in the turtle tank.

- Marcy cannot stand the feeling of cotton balls against her skin. She claims it makes her want to curl up on herself, so she goes out of her way not to to come into too much contact with them.

- marcy and Donnie like to make care packages or get gifts for each other. She personally goes out of her way and buys him a new weighted blanket after he makes her an automatic paint brush cleaner since she told him her hands are cramping.

- Marcy’s theme song would be curses by the crane wives

- Marcy has a pair of glasses Donnie made for her when he confessed to her (he accidentally broke her og ones-he thought the new ones she got were much more durable)

- always has some form of paint splatter or art related mark on her skin even if it seems small

- organizes her art supplies and sewing supplies by color and type.

- has two closets in her room to hold the clothes and items she makes and revamps

- Can’t stand when her pillow is warm. Like it physically makes her angry

- mostly has random art travel supplies and every day items in her messenger bag that she Carrie’s around. (Also an extra pair of glasses just in case they get broken)

- Seasonal allergies are her worst enemy

- good at Digital and traditional art. Loves making stuff into charms, buttons ect. Made matching genius built charms for Donnie and herself

- Enjoys the sights and sounds of thunderstorms until the wind picks up (loud wind? Not the biggest fan)

- takes incredible care of her guppies and goldfish. The koi fish she got has a separate tank from the guppies. Likes to ad natural occurring plants into the tanks and tries to make a self sustaining healthy environment for her fishes.

- Marcy wasn’t diagnosed with autism until she was in elementary school when the girls mother Adrianna, a nurse, was finally able to get a doctor to listen. Is super grateful that her moms understanding and fierce nature, plus she was the first person to teach her how to draw.

- farming and fantasy rpgs are her favorite games

Some hcs for Donnie and Marcy

- Donatello enjoys holding hands with Marcy. Giving them a gentle squeeze. Enjoying the feeling of her hand laced in his. The warmth and softness of them. A silent but affectionate gesture they share with each other.

- Donnie thought she’d be bored by all the rambling about his tech and how it works, but was surprised to see she was actively listening. She remembered a few parts he needed and actually brought them by the next time she and her sisters came over to the lair.

- his favorite thing about Marcy, other than her personality, is the way she smiles. Something about the way the corners of her eyes crinkle and the lopsided sweet smile she can have makes his emotionally unavailable bad boy heart flutter

- always fixing each others goggles and glasses. Both absentmindedly and intentionally. Donnie always keeps a spare on him for just in case hers breaks and she always makes sure to clean his goggles off for him.

- team up against the purple dragons all.the.time, their second date literally was going great and the purple dragons almost ruined it and had to be dealt with

- after several trusting moments, Donnie does allow Marcy to examine his soft shell. She is super careful and constantly asks him if he’s okay or not. Compliments his shell and his mutation, which may or may not have caused him to happy churr and have tail waggles at the same time

- physical contact gets built up over time, but there is no doubt that the both of them are cuddle bugs with each other after they take it slowly. Especially during winter and fall.

- both of them Defiantly pick up on each other when one or the other are having a sensory overload or uncomfortable in a situation. Marcy won’t hesitate to gently pull Donnie to the side somewhere quiet and lend him her noise canceling headphones. Gives him a comfort snack or drink and just tries to be there for him if he needs her.

- the same with Donnie. Keeps a literal notes of what she likes, dislikes ect. What textures, tastes, sights and sounds she is uncomfortable and makes sure to help her avoid them as much as possible.

- hating slimy textures or residue solidarity 🤝

- donnie keeps a bunch of notes and information about Marcy’s likes and dislikes alphabetically

- Marcy is honestly Not afraid to call donnie out for being in the wrong. Even if it’s small. For example in the mystic library, she pointed out the fact that he should have just written the location down. Stating that despite his genius mind, he’s got a bad habit of being a bit too overconfident

- Definitely dance with one another to 80s music. They Work on getting better at dancing all the time.

[saltressmistress]

Praying to god no one actually sees this and i can just vent into the void that is tumblr maybe *ahem ahem*

GOD LONELINESS SUCK 😭😭😭 im so patheric lmao all i did was eat lunch alone today cuz my one friend is sick and my other friends have a different class later so they had to go

But man i hate- i HATE being alone w/ my own thoughts and feelings <///3 i hate it smmmmm

I just- ugh idk,,,,,,

I've sorta always known that i cant talk to ppl properly, yes im introverted and its nothing bad but i WANT to socialize like properly and rlly badly but i can never say anything on my own accord

I just jump off on what the ppl around me usually say abd its fun but man i can-- i just cry dude idk what im typing

No beta we die like how i should be dead rn cuz whats even the point ;-;

Im the type thats like, i never *felt* like i had the freedom to speak when i wanted and that i was never taught to be social only told to

My mother was a very,,,,, negative person

Her first instinct is to complain and ask and/or answer questions in a very accusatory way as if you were the one doing something wrong like no??? Shut up pls???? Ur making me feel stupid for wanting to learn????

She shot down a lot of opportunities for me to be confident in myself and god do i hate that but yk cant rlly hate her, she is a good person in regards to everything else

She just doesnt have the best personality for being a mother (eldest daughter problems amirite)

But still, i point to her for my lack of social confident u-u </3

And ig general feelings of loneliness cuz even now she is VERY difficult to talk to, i have zero strength or willpower to defend myself in a conversation and she has like 2 modes: talking over you or straight up walking away while im tryna answer her

Ive given up on getting her attention, a day of her not noticing me (unless its completely necessary) is a good day

I wanna cry. I dont like how she is and idk how she can change i just wanna grow up so i can be less dependent on her but i have zero life skills and idk what to do

Havent even gotten to the worst part, that being she drives me to and from school everyday, almost a 2 hour drive each time

And she is an ABSOLUTE BITCH ON THE ROAD T^T

She has INTENSE road rage and its such a bad environment to be in that small cramped space w/ someone that just curses and screams at ppl who wont even hear her, ppl that she quickly passes by but still makes an effort to fucking complain

Its been driving my morality, my mentality, my everything down

Any ounce of positivity and affection i have in my body is being suck out and replaced by learned behaviors from a women who only knows how to react negatively

And she's the only person thats been raising me rlly- im eternally grateful that there were other ppl there also but as the 1st grandchild in that house, the other adults didnt rlly wanna interact w/ the child yk

My mom didnt even plan for me, she hid my existence for 5 months before she couldnt hide it anymore ×_×

The more grandkids that came along the house became more and more child friendly, but man it was rough for me ;-;

And now idk how to act around ppl my age, not really, idk the right things to say I OVERTHINK WAY TOO MUCH AND I JUST WANT THESE DAMN ADHD VOICES TO STAWPPPP

I cant focus,,,,,,, i cant do anything,,,,,,,, fuck shit ive been writing affirmations on sticky notes and its kinda working BUT ITS NOT ENOUGH UGH :[

I want

I want to hear it from someone else

Not from mother. Shes been at least trying to teach me how to be a proper human being but anything that comes out of her mouth feels numbing

It doesnt resonate with me at all

I had to ask someone else to tell me something that my mom said just so i can take it to heart better

Fucken reflexes man i dont like it

I had a proper discussion w/ my aunt and boy it was so productive AND I KNEW FULL WELL IF I TALKED LIKE THAT W/ MY MOTHER SHE'D BE YELLING LIKE CRAZY AS IF I WAS TRYNA PROVE HRR WRONG OR SMTH

My aunt was actually explaining her point and she was still right abt it-- yes i didnt get why she had this claim BUT SHE EXPLAINED IT AND I UNDERSTOOD!! A PRODUCTIVE DISCUSSION!!!

I also just fear that idk how to keep my dignity in conversations, im such a yes-man that i probably dont even have my own opinions anymore

I wanna talk to ppl i dont know and have genuine discussion consistently, learn about things and not feel stupid for not knowing them

I wanna be treated like a child and be told that im doing a good job and be told about simple things bcuz i dont think i understood any of that enough while i was growing up

I dont feel like an individual, im rlly just a side character in everyone else's stories and im just sad abt it

I have no energy for it anymore, no other emotions to feel other than longing and wanting and wishing to be anything other than this.

[theautisticbarbie]

Red Wings

Word Count: 1,534

Welp! This is it! This is the last one shot to set up “A Bird of Praise”, which I will start posting shortly!

Tara gets her first period and the giant can of worms known as her life starts to open up horrifically.

Your warnings are as follows: periods (duh), fear of dying, seizures, implied medical trauma.

Let me know if I missed anything!

8th Grade is often a very chaotic time for young girls. Not only is there a transition from middle aged school to high school in the immediate following year, but it was also usually happening during puberty. 13 year old Tara Newman got the worst of it one fateful fall day in 1981. During ballet class, her body just would not stretch the way that she needed it to. A simple plie was exhausting. On top of that and some killer bloating, Tara was also experiencing somewhat of a headache. It wasn’t too bad, but it was definitely noticeable and very distracting.

It started to become noticeable to Daniel and Eleanor when she went straight to bed as soon as she got home. That was most definitely out of the ordinary for the girl, especially when her and her brother’s 14th birthday was fast approaching.

It was all she talked about for weeks. She was so excited. The two were going to Signore Carlo’s Trattoria, which was basically just a fancy Chuck E Cheese in Hawkins just before you reach Indianapolis. Kids dress nice, eat junk that masquerades as fancy food, watch animatronics perform badly pre-recorded opera and dance ballet poorly with movements that anyone could bet were programmed by people who have likely never interacted with an actual dancer in their lives and play the arcade games and play in the ball pit. And instead of the excited rambling that the two had been accustomed to, Tara was quiet and went straight to bed.

That night, she was awoken by a deafeningly loud scream. The tired girl rubbed her eyes and only caught a glimpse of her brother running out of their room, only the nightlight to illuminate what was happening.

“Mom! Mom! Help! Tara’s dying!” Daniel said, frantically knocking on her bedroom door.

Tara, of course, was instantly set alight with panic upon hearing that, now realising she felt that she was sitting on a wet spot. It dawned on her that the minor bloating she felt when she first went to bed had now become excruciating and was accompanied by some very painful cramps.

She got up and turned on her bedside lamp and realised that wet spot was blood, which she also realised had soiled her nightgown. Her face instantly went pale.

When Eleanor walked in, Tara thought the silver lining of this was that for once in her life, she would get some caring and sympathy from her mother.

She was instead met with rolling eyes and an annoyed sigh.

“Your sister is not dying, Daniel. She’s just having her period.”

“My period…”

Eleanor pulled Tara out of her bed and sent her off to get cleaned up, and changed the bedsheets, all loudly complaining and cursing on some tirade about how she has to do everything. Never mind the fact that she CHOSE to have children and that it was her daughter who was frightened and in pain. SHE was the victim here, apparently.

After cleaning up in the shower and changing into a fresh pair of pyjamas, Tara took a painkiller and climbed into the freshly changed bed.

The week of her birthday celebration was rough to say the least. Persistent headaches, a crawling sensation on the back of her neck that always led to a tic where she violently shook her head and… nosebleeds? It was definitely unpleasant, especially since those three things stuck around even after her cycle was starting to go spotty.

The day of her and Daniel’s shared birthday, she got into her outfit. A cute, frilly pink dress with an updo and a tiara, because of course she had to have one along with a sash indicating that she was the birthday girl.

Daniel wore a suit with his hair neatly combed (at his mother’s behest of course) and a sash indicating that he was the birthday boy. Once they arrived at the restaurant and were seated, the guests began to arrive. Nancy and Barb carpooled together (at Karen’s behest) and the two 13 year olds set their gifts down at the gift table and joined the guests of honour.

“Hi, Nancy! Hi Barb!” Tara called excitedly, hugging them both, with Nancy making a pained grimace as though she would rather not be here.

Jeff and Gareth sat next to Daniel and sneered as four very crude looking animatronic swans came onto the stage and began performing a piss poor imitation of “The Four Cygnets” and while the three riffed on the spectacle, Tara was enthralled with the performance.

After all the guests arrived (mostly Tara’s “friends” who were just there for the food and arcade) and loaded up on pizza and birthday cake, Signore Pavo-Rat-E, the beloved older brother of Signore Carlo, came out in his tux, of which the coat tails comically flew up, and sang a clearly poorly pre-recorded opera version of “For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow” while his animatronic voice box skipped and stuttered.

“Gratzzi, Pavo-Rat-E!” cheered Carlo with mechanical applause. Pavo’s mechanics whirred as he took a bow. “Let’s-a give it up for the guest of honour!”

With that, the sugar rushed adolescents were off to the games and ball pit, the latter Tara particularly enjoyed because of the way her skirt moved amongst the balls.

It was during a gradually heated game of Air Hockey between the twins that Daniel seemed particularly aggravated.

“What’s wrong, Daniel? Are you not having fun?” Tara asked.

“No!” He finally spat out. “I didn’t want to go to this STUPID place, eat shitty pizza and play mediocre games!”

“You said the S-word!” Tara declared.

“Oh grow up, Tara! We’re 14! Do you SEE anyone else over the age of maybe 10 here? I wanted to do something actually fun! I wanted to ride roller coasters and talk to girls who have boobies!”

“Ew, you perv!” Barb muttered to herself not nearly quietly enough for Tara not to catch it. Her face went beet red and she went off. “What is wrong with you? Is that seriously all you think about? You are the singular most sexist, immature, lecherous pervert that I have ever had the misfortune of knowing, let alone being related to! Everything is about butts or boobies with you!”

“Yeah, Tara, that’s what happens when boys hit puberty! They realise the concept of cooties is BS and then they turn into horny teenagers!”

“You’re so gross! All you and your friends ever do is embarrass me! You couldn’t cut it out! Even for me! Even on my birthday!”

“Newsflash! It’s my birthday, too, you self-centred bitch!”

That was it. Tara was officially fed up. “I HATE YOU!” she screamed as a hockey puck flew at Daniel’s face.

Tara did a double take. Did… she throw that? She certainly didn’t remember picking it up.

“Now-a now!” a Carlo mascot said, placing one of his oversized hands on her shoulder. “Let’s-a be nice!”

Tara was frightened, overwhelmed, overstimulated and very upset. She, at this point was having a full-on autistic meltdown, but because she was undiagnosed, she had no support.

“Maybe it’s-a time to apologise to-a your brother, don’t you a-think?”

Tara was not in any mood to be talked down to. But when she turned around with the intention of simply removing the big, plushy paw from her shoulder, she was mortified to see that she had knocked the poor mascot to the ground.

The stress that Tara was experiencing was through the roof. The room was spinning. Her throat was closing. Her heart was pounding. There was a trickle of moisture dripping down her chin.

Boom.

Suddenly all the lights were off and the power was out.

“Ladies and gentlemen, we seem to be experiencing a temporary power outage. We’ll be up and running again as soon as—“

Click.

“Well, it looks like the issue has resolved itself. As always, thank you for choosing Signore Carlo’s.”

It was all too much. Tara had puked on the floor where she was standing.

“Tara! Clean yourself up! That’s disgusting!” Nancy complained, grabbing some napkins and aggressively wiping Tara’s upper lip. Tara glanced at the discarded tissue and noticed crimson staining.

“Here!” Nancy said. “Take this and pinch the bridge of your nose!”

Nancy’s voice grew distant as Tara’s body grew numb. It felt as though something exploded in her chest and before she knew it, she could feel the linoleum floor beneath her before everything faded to black.

When she came to, the walls were bleach white. Everything smelled bleak and clean. She observed her surroundings and noticed she was lying in a bed with bleach white sheets. When she sat up, still feeling weak, she noticed she wasn’t in her birthday outfit anymore. She was in a hospital gown. However, when she looked around it didn’t seem like your typical hospital. Tara ran a hand through her wavy brown hair and rubbed her eyes when the door to her room opened.

In stepped a woman in a lab coat who smiled warmly, but there seemed to be an artifice to her demeanour.

“You must be Tara. I’m Dr. McFarlane. I’m the neurologist who was assigned to your case.”

[twilghtkoo]

in which, haechan just wants to take care of you

pairings. haechan x reader (f)

genre. comfort, fluff, established relationship

warnings. mentions of blood, reader is on her period

notes. i started my period today and i get easily pissed off and sad and my dad pissed me off and i was like “what would make me better and not scream my head off?” haechan. so enjoy <33

—

haechan was mildly confused when he had heard a familiar voice next to him cursing and moaning in pain, his boyfriend instincts kicked in instantaneously when the familiar voice is you. he had pushed himself up to look over to his left, your face is curled up into his pillow along with your fist under your chin and your other hand is holding your forehead. he softly pulls the comforter off of you and noticed your knees were up to your chest.

he quickly but gently rubs your arm to wake you up. “baby, what’s wrong?” you only whimper in your half-asleep form.

“baby, wake up. you’re scaring me.” he mumbles next to you.

oh, you’re not sick.

mother nature has gifted you the monthly four day hell.

you wake up after a minute of haechan mumbling over you and rubbing your arm, tiredly turning on your side to grab your phone and check the time.

“hyuck, you have to get ready for work.” you try to shoo him away, gripping the comforter that was discarded off of you and snuggling back under the blanket up to your chin.

haechan lightly chuckles, “i have a bit before i have to start getting ready. you were making sounds like you were in pain and i got worried.”

sighing, you reply, “i’m okay, just lay back down with me.” you sneak your hand out from the blanket and tap the empty spot next to you.

he squints his eyes at you. he knows you’re lying. there is definitely something wrong and his boyfriend instincts are always right.

yet, he huffs. sliding back down underneath the covers facing you. your eyes are closed and your eyebrows are slightly furrowed, the wrinkled skin between your brows makes him itch to rub them away.

his hand twitches under the blanket, but another whimper escapes from you.

“i fucking hate this shit,” you cursed under your breath as you turn to lie on your back, your face facing the ceiling.

“baby,” he softly calls out, sitting back up. the way those words naturally came out your mouth so plainly caught him off guard.

you finally open your eyes and look up at his worried face. “it’s just my period, i’m fine.” you brush it off with a forced smile, another sharp, dull pain stabs you in the abdomen making you sigh in defeat.

your first day was always the worst. waking up with a headache, the painful cramps, the heavy bleeding, how easily you get ticked off or how easily something can make you cry. you hated it.

“why didn’t you just say so babe?” haechan is quick to crawl out of bed and walk over to your side.

“let’s go to the bathroom.” he says, holding out his hands expectantly. you stare at him with the softest and most defeated look that would’ve made him coo and kiss the hell out of you.

with your arms and legs wrapped around him like a koala, you allow him to carry you to the bathroom and onto the toilet seat.

he stands in front of you with his hands on his hips for a moment.

“are you gonna watch me pee and put on a pad?” you ask slowly.

he pouts, “what if you faint on the toilet?”

“i’m not gonna faint, hyuck.” you roll your eyes, before pausing. “may you get me my–“

he nods, “your favorite shorts and a pair of underwear. got it.” and he’s out the bathroom.

when you and haechan started dating, he was never really bothered or disgusted by your menstrual cycles, having a younger sister and knowing it was just a natural human thing for women. but haechan was actually so fucking sweet and loving to you on your period. at first, you were weirdly disturbed a bit on how he wanted to wait with you in the bathroom while you peed or change your pad. he defended himself saying that he just wanted to make sure you were okay and he just wanted to be with you.

after awhile, it never bothered you anymore. he sometimes sits on the counter and shows you funny tiktoks that show up on his for you page or he’ll prepare your pad and underwear for you. he noticed how you always wore the same adidas shorts on your period with one of his shirts that fit you a bit too big. but it’s so cozy to you.

he comes back with your change of clothes, placing them on the counter next to you. before you could grab your undies, haechan had beat you to it and is already unwrapping your pad.

you mumble a ‘thank you’ as you watch him place the pad on correctly like you taught him. he just hums and hands your underwear to him as he grabs the clothes you woke up in and tore off just a few seconds ago and tosses them in his hamper.

“i’ll bring cereal for us, go lie down and put on that new anime.” he instructs you.

he came back with two bowls of lucky charms, giving you the bowl that had more milk in it because he knows you love to drink the milk after. and without asking him to, he had brought medicine for you to take for your cramps and headache. both of you had time to watch an episode before he had to get ready for schedules today, leaving you his card so you could order food for lunch. he promises to come back soon and to be home for dinner, kissing you on the lips and forehead. letting his lips linger a bit longer on your lips before he leaves his bedroom with his backpack.

[sleepyconfusedpotato]

Hey I was wondering if, what would be your take on the TF141 boys taking care of Jade during her periods? That would be so cute and wholesome, seriously! 🥺

AAACK So this is actually a short fic that I made while looking for some prompts, and then I found this period cramp stuff! However, this is only Ghost x Jade fic, not with the other 141 boys :( Now the thing is, it's REALLY self-indulgent and it's 2.5k words long (°◡°).

Have at it!

This is my first ever full on writing fic in this site. Please be gentle. (´ω｀*)

Hearbeat

Pairing : Simon "Ghost" Riley x Charlotte "Jade" Le Jardin

Warning : curse words, other than that it's pure unadulterated fluff :)

Word Count : 2.5k (holy shit)

Summary : As a former MI6 agent, Jade has mastered the poker face and is incredibly good at hiding her menstrual cramps. The base is filled with boys and she doesn't want to bother anyone or make them feel awkward or anything when watching her in pain. Jade's in the team as the brain and strategist, and she gets the work done. However, there are some days when the cramps are worse than usual.

The timeline is after Meteor Showers took place. So Ghost knows what he feels towards her.

Inspired by the song Heartbeat by Enrique Iglesias feat. Nicole Scherzinger

yes I need a song inspiration

---------

Ghost and Jade were both talking about a mission plan. It was nighttime, but still they’re cooped up in the mission briefing room. The former MI6 agent was talking about how they’d approach the favela, when Jade suddenly stopped mid-talking to take a deep breath and let it out, then talking again. Even though Ghost's expression is hidden beneath the mask and shades, he's looking at Jade all over. He straight up asked her, "You alright?" Jade only nodded before continuing her plans, but she sighed over and over, making Ghost ask her again, "You have a stomach ache? I guess the food here is kind of disgusting."

Jade let out a confused expression before saying, "What? No!"

"What else then? Are you having diarrhea or something?" He said with a little joking tone to it.

"I. Am. Having. My. Period." She said straightforwardly. Ghost only stood there like a statue. "Oh…"

Jade sat down on the chair to rest her head on the table where the papers lay. Looking at her miserable state, Ghost muttered with a low voice, "We can continue this tomorrow."

"Huh? Wait. The mission is in a few days." She lifted her head to face him.

"I can't focus on the plans when you look like you're dying. We're going to continue this tomorrow."

"...Fine-- Ow!" Jade suddenly kneeled down while hugging her own belly. The pain felt like a knife just stabbed her.

"Hey hey. You alright?" Ghost kneeled down to her level and touched her shoulder. A tinge of worry was apparent in his voice. "I'm--I'm fine. It will--" She hissed. "It'll pass." He only stayed silent for a few seconds, letting her get her composure.

Without any warning whatsoever, Ghost kneeled in front of her, his broad back facing her as his arms opened. "Get on my back." Jade stayed still in disbelief.

"Fucking get on my back, Midget." He swore. "Ghost, I can walk on my own." "You can go back to your room yourself if you can promise me I won't find you squatting in the middle of the halway." She knew the way to her room was quite far, and it'd be impossible to get there without stopping midway because of the pain. With that thought, she reluctantly climbed his back, her legs on his arms, and her arms circling around his neck.

After making sure she's comfortable, Ghost stood up to his full height, making the red haired woman impressed at his show of strength, finding herself blushing like an idiot. He then stepped out of the room, making his way to Jade's room.

Along the way, other soldiers laid their eyes on them, but nobody dared to talk to them about what the hell was going on. These two are the worst of enemies and were so competitive with each other, now they're piggy back riding?

Those stares made Jade hide her face in embarrassment, but Ghost confidently walked past them like it's nothing. "G--Ghost… Aren't I heavy? I can just walk on my o--"

"No." He cut her off. "You're not heavy at all. You're as light as a feather. You’re a midget, remember that?” Ghost spoke. “If those blokes talk shite I can just tell them to fuck off. Now you just relax."

After he told her off, Jade actually found herself resting her chin on the back of his neck, touching his balaclava. For the first time, she took her mind off of the pain on her belly, and felt the warmth. His warmth. She could feel her heart beating faster at the thought. With her belly pressing on his warm back, it actually helped ease the cramps. She breathed in, and to her surprise, he actually didn't smell bad. She always thought that his balaclava would reek from use, but it smelled good. His back is so broad and unusually comfortable, almost like she can just sleep there.

Too lost in his warmth, Jade didn't realise that they're right in front of her door. "We're here." Ghost's voice snapped her out of her thoughts, and she instinctively tried to climb down, only to be held still by him. She looked at him in confusion. "Hand me your keys." Knowing that he's stubborn, Jade fished out her keys on her pants, then gave it to Ghost, who unlocked the door and walked in. He stopped in front of the bed, facing away from it and kneeled down, allowing Jade to sit on her own bed without climbing off of his back. Feeling familiar with her own bed, Jade sighed in relief but also disappointed at the loss of warmth she felt when pressed up against him, but she only stayed in silence.

Ghost turned around, still kneeling down on her level. "You okay now?" His voice was gentle, not like his usual rugged and abrasive one. Jade answered, "Yeah." He nodded in affirmation, "I'll tell Soap you're off for today. So you just stay here."

Standing up and ready to head out, Ghost suddenly stopped on his tracks, "You need anything?" That question startled her. "Huh? Uh.. No. Nothing."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. I'm okay."

"...Are you hungry?"

"Wh-what?"

"I can bring you food, if you want." Jade's face started to burn. Why's he so caring all of a sudden? Not that she's complaining… But she just said she wanted nothing. Usually people would just go about their days, but Ghost kept asking her if she needed something. This gesture of his made her heart flutter a bit.

"Umm… You know what, I think I can take the food." She hesitantly said. Ghost nodded, "Wait here." before going out of her room, not forgetting to close her door gently.

'What on earth was that!?' Jade couldn't help cupping her warm cheeks. Ghost, the guy that hated her from the moment she walked in the base, who talked shit about her, just piggy back rode her to her room, and offered to bring her food???

Her thoughts started going crazy as her hands worked on taking off her boots and socks. Freaking hormones. Then she changed her pants to more comfortable ones. The red haired woman climbed her own bed, now the cramp's back again, creeping up on her stomach, all the way across her body. She then laid down on her side, hugging her knees while massaging her own belly.

After what felt like some time, a knock sounded from the door. "Jade? It's me." Ghost's voice could be heard from the other side. "Come in." Her strained voice called, prompting Ghost to open the wooden door, only to see the woman curled up in bed. He put the plates of food on her bedside table, then kneeled down, "Jade. Does it still hurt?" Again, that worried tone of his always caught her off guard.

"I don't know if you know, Ghost, but this cramp will go on for a few days. Today it's the worst." She explained to him while sitting up.

"Do you still want to eat?" He asked.

"Yes, yes. I still want to eat. In fact, I'd love to eat. Anything to forget this pain."

He then took the plate and gave it to her while also taking the other plate to his own lap. It was a very aromatic fried rice. The food was also still releasing heat and vapors, indicating that it was fresh from the frying pan. "This smells amazing. Who made this?" Jade asked out of curiosity.

"...Me." he said.

"...You can cook?"

"I can. When the food's too disgusting I'll just snuck into the kitchen and cook for myself."

Huh. It was unexpected coming out of this man. Jade scooped a spoon then ate it, Ghost's eyes following her every move.

She chewed on the rice, "Wow! It's actually delicious." Jade chimed in joy. The texture was not too rough, not too soft. Not dry nor greasy like it's been drenched in oil.

"Is it too salty? I think I added a little too much."

"No! No, it's the perfect amount. I like salty foods." Jade answered with her mouth full, when she saw another plate of fried rice on his lap. "Are you eating too?"

"Yeah. I'm hungry anyway, so I made extra." The lieutenant muttered, before taking off his mask, exposing his face to her once again. The last time she saw Ghost's face was from the mission in Siberia. His face still startles her to this day.

But during the Siberian mission, Ghost took off his mask because she asked for it, right? Now he just took it off like it's nothing in front of her. Could it be that he's getting comfortable around her?

They ate in silence together. Jade's eating like it's the most delicious meal ever, while Ghost's eyes looked at her. "Oh my Gosh. This is terrifyingly good!" He scoffed at that reaction. "Ghost, if you can't sleep and you're hungry at night, don't forget to invite me to your little secret dinner. I'll be more than happy to accompany you."

He smiled softly, "...Thanks."

Jade finished eating first, and she looked down on Ghost's fried rice. He looked at her eyes, still hungry for more.

"...You want more?" His question startled her, but she said, "N--No." An MI6 she may be, but she can't lie about food. Her face was enough of an answer.

"Just take it." He handed her his plate. There's still about one third left. "W--wait. What about you?"

"I have my snacks." He fished out a bag of crisps out of a plastic bag Jade didn't realise he brought. The snack was quite big, and it looked like it had been opened prior. That bag of crisps seems to be his secret snack.

"Okay, then." She continued eating Ghost's portion while he ate the barbeque flavoured crisps he opened 5 days ago.

The woman finally finished the food, and put the plates together on the table along with the cutlery. Noticing that she's still eyeing his crisps, the black haired man tilted the bag's opening her way, enabling Jade to dove her hand in and take the crisps, eating away with pleasure on their faces.

"Ghost, about Rojas's guy."

"Hm?"

"I don't think we should be too close to each other. One team on one side of the building, one team on the other side, one team on the block. We'll surround him and lock him in one area." She said while chewing on her crisps. "That way we can capture him fast and lead us to Rojas."

"Alright. The militia's eyes are everywhere. We need to lay low too." Ghost responded to her sudden mood for work. They kept on talking about the mission on the floor while their mouths were busy chewing on the barbecue flavoured crisps.

Ghost dove his hand to fish out more crisps, but the bag was empty. He looked at the plastic wrap and right, he could see the bottom of it. They both cleaned that up real fast. When he brought the snack, it was still half full, and Ghost only managed to get half of it in 5 days. Now, with Jade, it only took less than 2 hours.

Holy shit.

“Ghost? Is it empty?” the woman asked. He only responded by turning the plastic upside down, nothing left. “O--Oh my God. I’m sorry, Ghost. I didn’t mean to devour your entire snack stash–” She apologised right away. This was so embarrassing! What is she? A freaking hyena??

“It’s fine. And you didn’t eat my entire snack stash.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have 4 more bags of crisps.” Ghost revealed as he rolled the now plastic trash neatly. The woman was wide eyed at his statement. “You have four more of this giant snack?”

“Yes. The food here’s shitty. I could tolerate a lot of things. Bad food is not one of them.” Ghost declared to her. This is the side that Jade never saw of him. He can genuinely cook good food, and he’s a foodie.

“Huh, you eat junk food in your free time? That’s pretty unhealthy of you. You’ll get a big belly with that kind of eating habit.” Jade playfully punched his stomach. Big mistake. It’s hard and muscular. Ghost only smiled proudly, “I have a fast metabolism.”

“That’s unfair! I have to workout consistently to get light so I can move fast!”

“Yeah well sucks to be you.”

“Shut up.” She hissed back at him.

Just then, Jade realised that her cramps had gone down. Her conversation and time spent with Ghost in front of her made her forget about her cramps all together. Now it’s just a dull pain that lingers. He’s been keeping her mind off of it all this time. One of the best medicines for pain is to think about something else, and it’s what he’s been doing to her. He made sure he’s there and that she’s not alone, even went as far as taking off his mask for her.

Jade felt her cheeks warm and her heart beat faster.

“You okay?” Ghost’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts again. Jade slapped both sides of her hands, which startled Ghost. Get yourself together. Get yourself together. DAMN HORMONES. HEART STOP BEATING FAST.

“Jade, hey.” He snapped his fingers right in front of her face. Ghost never saw her this unfocused before.

“Yes! Yes. I’m alright. I’m alright.” she finally said.

“Does it still hurt?”

“No– I mean yes. If it was a knife stabbing me, now it’s just a baby punch.” Ghost looked relieved for a split second, “You sure you don’t need anything else?”

“No. This time I’m really okay.” She confessed.

He finally stood up, putting on his mask, and took the plates. "I'll take care of the garbage. You rest up. We'll talk about the mission first thing tomorrow."

Jade smiled, "Okay, and… Ghost?"

He turned around, "Hm?"

"...Thanks, for everything." She softly muttered.

A few seconds passed, before Ghost replied, "Anytime." His face was covered, but she could hear a small smile from him.

"Good night, Ghost. Sleep well." Jade voiced again.

"Yeah. G'night." He peeked from the door, taking a last glance of her for the day, before closing the door.

That night, Jade can't stop thinking about him. His broad back, his warmth, strong arms. His cooking abilities, a foodie, his stash of snacks. Today she saw a side that she had never seen before. He's not that bad after all.

She wouldn't complain seeing this side of Ghost everyday.

------

Do you think Ghost can feel Jade's heartbeat on his back? ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

[cornus27florida]

x"D IDK what's this anymore : Episode 147th The BBQ (Barbeque) part 1

-> no Patreon leak image for the change, I forgor where and I feel it will be nice to have Curtis in appron (actually not the first time, we seen once before when Nell warning him about Gwen going to the barn with were-spider Prez inside) - as the first image of the post. Also I want do simple for the change

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Curtis looked nice with an apron there, but Syrah - he definitely won’t wear that apron `kiss the cook` you prepared ahahahah. Also foods in Whitney’s slumber party really banging it, if only I didn’t need to watch my calories intake (and diseases histories in my family lineage) - I’ll inhaled those perfectly cooked meat steaks, burger patties, french friends, cheeses and more! Also bag of chips sounds nice as well for warm welcome and nice barbeque >w<

Laverne really clings to Whitney ahahaha, very fluffy Llama kinda like a very warm and thick blanket that wrapped Whitney from his head to mid body with a very tight nuzzle there -> like many confused where Laverne's appendages where as it seems seeped inside to Whitney hahaha

Also nice to see NelLie again! and poor Renee, your best friend currently going to Pastel palace with likely headaches due to reading some diary in a rushing carriage without blinking there! -> Renee’s note kinda cute there:

Bernadette and the OP background character congratulating Prez’ that she didn’t turns to be were-spider this month, but Prez looks unhealthy (few waves of intense cramping and splitting headaches every minute of every day) - I really hope that she won’t be turned to be were-spider anytime, because that cursed transformation makes her uncontrollable unlike Monika when turned to be crow. Later on Prez looks healthy enough when giving a demonstration though.. so I think she kinda OK, and even if worse will happen (feels like want to enters period, I think the answer is for her taking the delaying period pills again -> the side effects could be much worse, but the most important thing is Prez could keep her mind and avoids to do things that uncontrollable for her (like, I know some wished for Leland to be killed by Prez in cursed form or something, but that’s not the answer as making Prez a murderer (even though we know how evil Leland is) will affecting her really greatly in bad ways).

Now Frederick’s time! Poor the tiniest prince with the tiniest voice and his worst enemy: terrifying skill of communication - and I try to react his interactions with CPC members in parts ; with the trio (Abbi, Syrah, Monika), Saffron, and Prez.

A) With the trio Abbi, Syrah, Monika: Frederick hesitated because he thinks he’ll ruin the good mood of them during the slumber party, but turns out they are also missing and wondering about Gwen’s too that hasn’t shown up since ‘the romantic, end-of-the-night rendezvous. Syrah’s comment ``We get it, you two lovebirds are probably making out every day and we’re not gonna pry`` makes me giddy in chuckles. But IG the misunderstanding with the trio due to Frederick’s reply in tomato face, ``I haven’t seen her at all! I’ve been locked in a dungeon by my dad ever since the gala!`` → made the trio think the reason that Frederick locked up is due to being grounded because something too intimate makes Frederick and Gwendolyn need to be separated.. <Hence the blushing face of the trio espc from Monika there> 

Oh boi, if only that’s the case but the locked up is literal punishment by Leland to Frederick’s “failures” and to make sure he won’t mess things up again - This my attempt to find excuse of the somewhat seeming OOC-ness of the trio to not thinking that Frederick being locked up seriously, they simply misunderstanding things espc after Frederick outburst with red face telling that he never seen Gwen since the gala due to being locked up by his dad

B) With Saffron -> thanks a lot for being supportive, bro!

Sorry I have nothing much to say because it's distracted to Saffron's heart-shaped 'tattoo' - RIP Saffron's first date ;-;

C) With Prez -> sadly Prez still not grabbing the situation, but one thing I love is we finally have more deeper interactions between her and Frederick (like, I am counting the days when Frederick realizes from Prez retelling that Gwen shackled her own self-worth's opinion to him and his love - similar to what Lilyth does to Jackie) - she even saying things that total opposite of what Frederick used to hear (small, weak boy).

Well at least Frederick won't be throw up vomiting due to being 'flipped over by princesses' because he likely been days starved by Leland at the prison *smiling sadly in anguish*

=========================================== Theory's ramble portion - is about Frederick to his brothers

Frederick trying to explain that he ruined everything with Gwen (as he thinks he's the sole reason of all of her pains and sadness, when we know things actually more complex than that : blaming solely Frederick isn’t the answer) and there’s fights between Pastel princesses and Plaid princes - that he thinks because the awful thing that he did when first meeting Gwen (calling her ugly), but CPC already knew it - so it’s the reason why he got attacked when first meeting CPC

The trio still thinking Frederick misunderstanding things, but one thing is clear: he finally connected the dots of the reason Gwendolyn is the part of the CPC (ran down after crying heard that she’s called ugly - into the forest and stumbled upon CPC ‘really kind people that helped her in a lot of ways’ + Gwen confronted about it to him once already, but due to their poor communication skill - Gwen cutting the confrontation speeches while Freddie thinks she confronted him due to pulling off to cliff not the awful comment) and why CPC is so hostile towards him the first time they’re meet -> Agreed with comment that Freddie isn’t playing dumb during CPC intruder arc), he’s just truly dumb there (but to be fair on idiocy level, he’s smarter than Jackie because he realized what’s wrong about their love interest much quicker and also more aware of things around) TvT

 Poor Frederick sprawled in the ground part 1

When Abbi reassure Freddie to chills out and forget everythings the night (even handed a bag of chips, that later on be comedic aspect as breathing bag for Freddie who got panic attack later on), Frederick stands up instantly and exclaimed there’s no time to chill - as Leland, Blaine, and Lance are on their way to Pastel palace to do something to the Pastel Princesses. He doesn’t know because purposely not getting in the plan, but I hope the conversations in the prison could helps Frederick to connecting dots which are; Leland want Frederick to stay back so his plan won’t be ruined anymore [but here we are with Frederick out there, the catalyst of Leland’s plan breakage], coming to the Pastel kingdom tonight is considered ‘an errand’ but there’s troop involved, everything that Plaid kingdom do is for power - the all-knowing power/the Omniscient Clam, the big event is tomorrow at Corduroy canyon and Frederick will be included.

The engagements were fake (told by Leland actually, and we know Blaine and Lance doesn’t give definite answer to how they actually feeling for the Princesses) -an act `of affections for few princesses`, their relationships for Leland is just some scheme for Plaid kingdom’s power grab → actually we know it’s more petty obsession to wrecking Jack 

his brother told him themself, for the power grab by Leland

That’s one thing that Frederick (and us readers as well) could misunderstand, does Blaine and Lance really couldn’t care less about an alliance between the Pastel and the Plaid kingdom - or about Frederick? As at the Gala, CPC teamed up with Blaine and Lance to stop the bullies to harassing him.. but there’s concern which could make it or break it the piece of trust that Frederick to his brothers, which as the followings that Syrah said;

`Frederick's a part of the Plaid kingdom, and we'll rip the limbs off of anyone who interferes with the Plaid kingdom`

Because that statement will strengthen Frederick’s trust _if_ Blaine and Lance considers him as their precious little brother Poor, but will breaking the trust in dust _if_ Frederick spat out to not being part of Plaid’s kingdom anymore <which I feel the latter is likely that will happen due to me tend to be pessimistic, and Blaine that likely spat out that while Lance keep silent again/could he finally stands up for his lil’ bro?

-> Learning that CPC+Blaine+Lance might kill the bullies, Frederick fell to panic attack again and wondering if the bullies even still alive (imho doesn’t matter, as long the bullies out of the sight and never appears again)

Frederick sprawled in the ground part 2

===========================================I also want to talk about 2 biggest cockblocker in CPC history told in this episode: Saffron's cursed hand (fanon named: Thaddeus) & Curtis (for WhitnErnia ship) - haha poor them

Welp well like what Whitney's feeling, I feel now enough. ADIOS

I am leaving but if anyone want to interact anything be it comment - reblog - or anything, I am still there ><

[honeypiehotchner]

Satan’s Waterfall (Hotch x Fem!Reader) -- one shot

I couldn’t think of a name for this to save my life, but Satan’s waterfall is literally what I call my period so... (Also this is 100% self-insert because my period was from actual HELL yesterday)

I wrote this instead of doing my homework. Enjoy xx

Word count: 2.4k

Warnings: SMUT! period sex in the shower, “good girl” is said many times, Daddy kink (a lil), slight size kink (it’s inevitable with him), you and Hotch are newly married (I wrote “husband” organically and kept it)

It’s the second day of your period.

The first day is always the worst. The cramps are so severe that you’re nauseated (sometimes actually to the point of puking your guts out) and dizzy, freezing but somehow sweating, hungry but in too much pain to bring yourself to eat more than some crackers, and in desperate need of chocolate or coffee -- even though both of those things make everything else a thousand times worse.

You’re on birth control -- which was Aaron’s first question when he witnessed your period for the first time, completely on accident because you forgot you invited him over when your period was scheduled to hit. So, needless to say, it was maybe your fourth date night ever with your now-husband, and he had to hold your hair back as you puked. You had meant to reschedule that night, but you honestly weren’t feeling too bad until halfway through the movie the two of you decided to watch.

Regardless, birth control helps regulate your period and put it on a schedule, but so far it hasn’t done much to help the pain. Although, you used to pass out, and you don’t anymore, so maybe birth control has helped in a slight way.

Aaron doesn’t think it has at all. He still worries every single month, threatening to take time off of work (at least on the first day) to be with you, but you always tell him not to. You essentially threaten to become an unsub if he doesn’t take his ass to work, but he doesn’t find the joke as funny as you do.

Sometimes he’ll stay home because he’ll wake up and you’ll be in a shivering mess on the bathroom floor, or wide-awake next to him in bed (did anyone say period-induced insomnia?), or groaning to yourself quietly on the couch, having been there for hours so as not to disturb him.

Which is how yesterday went, actually, so that’s why he’s not home today because you told him if he stays home again to coddle you, you might become a fuming toddler.

Thankfully (but unfortunately for him), Chief Strauss called a meeting, so he had no choice but to go to work.

The second days aren’t even that bad. You’re still basically bed-ridden (or couch-ridden, at least, because the TV is in the living room), but you’re not puking and you’re not dizzy. You occasionally sweat like crazy when a wave of cramps comes, but nothing like yesterday.

You’ve showered, changed into new sweatpants and one of Aaron’s old t-shirts, had breakfast and lunch, and you’ve even done a load of laundry (mainly because you bled through the sheets last night). You’re having a much better day.

But, because it’s still that time of the month, it isn’t a great day because you’re still cramping. And lucky you, a bad wave hits right when Aaron walks in from work.

“I told you to let me stay today,” he says gently, pushing the hair back from your sweaty forehead.

“These are nothin’,” you whine, reaching out for his hand to hold anyway. “They’ll be gone soon.”

“You’re pale. Have you eaten?”

“Mhm, breakfast and lunch,” you nod, letting your eyes slip closed when the cramps ease. You feel your heating pad getting cold. It must’ve turned off. You start fumbling around for the controller, but Aaron beats you to it, turning it back on.

“That’s good,” he says. “What about water?”

“Oh, oops,” you chuckle. “I had one glass this morning.”

“And?”

“Anddd coffee.”

“Y/N…” He sighs. “What have I told you?”

“Yeah, yeah, I need to drink extra water when I’m like this. But here’s my thing: I’m suffering enough already, why make me suffer more by making me drink water?”

“Because it’s good for you,” he mutters, standing to fill a glass. “And you’re drinking more tonight. I don’t care if you’re up peeing all night--”

“I’ll wake you up every damn time I do.”

“Gladly,” he smirks, returning with the glass. “Come on, up. Drink.”

Begrudgingly, you sit up, muttering curses under your breath because now your back is cold which means you’re hurting more. Wordlessly, Aaron lifts the heating pad and holds it to your back while you drink some water.

“Good girl,” he says, taking the empty glass from you and sitting it on the coffee table.

“Don’t say that to me,” you grumble, already laying back down and grabbing a blanket, tucking it under your chin.

“Why not?” He asks, smoothing your hair again, smiling when you close your eyes.

“Because it gives me thoughts.”

“Thoughts?”

You open your eyes a little. “Thoughts.”

Aaron chuckles when you close your eyes again, effectively hiding from him. “Honey pie, you’re going to have to tell me what thoughts you’re talking about.”

“You know what thoughts I’m talking about,” you breathe. “Sexy thoughts.”

“Ahh, sexy thoughts,” he laughs.

“But I can’t have those right now.”

“Why not?”

“Hello?” You open your eyes, giving him a look. “It’s the time of Satan’s waterfall?”

“Satan’s-- Okay, just because you’re on your period, doesn’t mean we can’t have sex. It might make you feel better.”

“Oh, orgasms do, yes. I’ve had two today.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“Don’t give me that look. My issue is, I want you inside me when you call me a good girl.”

“I still can be.”

You scrunch your nose. “Too messy. I just washed the sheets.”

“Not in bed,” Aaron squeezes your hand. “We have a shower.”

You quirk an eyebrow. “Is my husband into period sex?”

He laughs loudly. “I’ve always thought about it, but you’re always in so much pain, I didn’t want to ask.”

“We’ve done worse things than have sex while I’m bleeding.”

“Yeah, but…” He lifts your hand to kiss your knuckles. “I never want to hurt you.”

You can’t help but grab his face and kiss him then, too overcome with love for him to stop yourself. His care, his tenderness. You’ve asked him to throw you around like a literal ragdoll before, and yet he’s still worried about hurting you.

“You know I’ll tell you,” you whisper, stealing another kiss. “You never hurt me. At least not in ways I don’t like.”

He groans into your mouth. “Time for a shower.”

“Already?” You giggle, wrapping your arms around his neck.

He lifts you from the couch and guides your legs around his torso, all the while keeping his lips on yours. He digs his fingers into your thighs and you squeal, allowing him to slip his tongue into your mouth.

You have no idea how he manages to get to the bathroom without knocking into anything, but you’re not questioning it.

He sets you down and you start ripping off your clothes, and he joins you after turning the shower on.

“Someone’s excited,” he chuckles, feeling your fingers on his belt. All you have on are your panties, but he’s still got pants on which is unfair.

“Hey, you suggested it, so I want it.”

“Okay, okay,” he tosses his belt out into the bedroom, laughing because you’re already unbuttoning and unzipping him. “You are eager.”

“I’m horny,” you correct him. “And it’s your fault.”

“I know, sweet girl,” he kisses your forehead. “But I’ll take care of it.”

“You better.”

While he’s busy finishing undressing, you kick your panties away and hop in the shower, adjusting the temperature.

Aaron steps in a moment later, a stupid grin on his face. “Hi.”

“Hi yourself,” you reply, relaxing under the hot water. “This feels good.”

His face softens. “Are you hurting again?”

“Not really,” you roll your shoulders. “Don’t get shy on me now.”

“I’m not,” he promises, rubbing his hands up and down your arms. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Trust me, I’ll be fine,” you tug him closer, tilting your head to accept his kiss.

He starts slow, wanting to gauge your reactions before he does anything too drastic. He rubs your clit gently, waiting until he hears a moan before he continues. When his tongue slips into your mouth, one finger sinks into your core.

It’s different, that he’ll admit. You feel warmer and wetter, but you’re definitely not in any pain. Your moans are too loud for that.

He dips his head to your neck, suckling there, letting you thread your fingers in his hair while he slips a second finger into you. You gasp a little too loud and a little too suddenly, so he stops, but quickly starts again when your fingernails dig into his scalp in protest.

“Are you okay?” He mumbles against the hickey on your neck.

“More,” you whimper.

He scissors his fingers, wrapping his free arm around your waist to keep you steady. The added pressure of three of his fingers buried inside you nearly makes your knees buckle. Everything about him is so big and it makes you weak when you even as much as think about it.

He moves back to your lips, kissing you deeply, pausing only to ask, “How does that feel, little one?”

“M’gonna cum,” is your only reply, your eyes squeezed shut.

“Go ahead,” he whispers. “As much as you want, sweet girl. This is all about making you feel good. There you go.” He feels the first flutterings of your walls. He spreads his fingers slightly, knowing you love the stretch, when his fingers press right into your g-spot. “Come on, honey. Let go.” He moves his thumb to your clit, rubbing small circles before spreading his fingers once more, shooting you over the edge.

You cling to his shoulders, nearly biting him from the force of it. Everything is so much more sensitive when you’re on your period and you knew that, but it’s different when it’s him. It always is.

“That’s my good girl,” he murmurs, easing you to the ending waves of your orgasm. “How was that?”

“Amazing, do you even need to ask?” You laugh, kissing him. “Can you please get inside me?”

“Please what?”

“Please, Daddy.” You bat your eyelashes for good measure, even though you know he wouldn’t tease you, not right now. He just wanted to hear you say it.

“Of course,” he steals another kiss before finally taking his fingers from you. Wordlessly, he washes the blood away, and you should’ve known he wouldn’t give two shits about this.

And you’re right, he doesn’t. The sight of blood doesn’t phase him anymore, especially not your period because it’s natural. And right now he’s too worried about making you feel good to even bother pretending to be grossed out by it.

He’s already hard, so you can’t help but reach down and stroke him, grinning when he groans loudly.

Before you can blink, though, he has you up in his arms and against the wall, your legs already settling around his hips.

“Tell me if I hurt you,” he says again, looking into your eyes. “Okay?”

“Yes, I promise,” you assure him.

Accepting that answer, he drops his hand to guide himself inside of you, moving as slow as possible -- which you appreciate, even if you do want to be fucked. But you’ve never had sex on your period before, not even with previous partners, so you weren’t sure if having a dick inside you would actually feel good.

But damn it does.

You know part of it is because it’s Aaron, your husband, your best friend. His dick is good on a normal day, but when you’re sensitive from your period, it’s even better.

“Oh my fucking God.”

“What?” He stops moving, leaning his head back to look at you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you laugh, threading your fingers through his hair again. “Nothing. It feels good.”

He smirks, rocking his hips slowly, letting you take more of him. “Feels good?” He asks, and you nod. “Is it wrong of me to enjoy this?” He whispers, going deeper. “You’re so warm.”

“Harder, please.”

He slams his hips forward, nipping at your neck when you whine loudly. “Are you gonna cum again?”

You nod your head lazily, locking your ankles behind his back, arching your back, forcing him deeper. A groan stutters in his throat when he feels his head teasing your cervix.

You like that normally, but his paranoia has him pulling back. “Are you--”

“If you don’t shut up and fuck me.”

He doesn’t question you after that, especially not with the lethal look you had in your eyes.

With no more hesitations, Aaron finally gives in. Every thrust is deep, yet you still push your hips up, trying to take even more. He’s never seen you like this, this greedy and almost animalistic in the way you’re chasing your orgasm.

He lets you guide him, staying still when you pull him in as deep as he can go and hold him there. He nearly explodes a few times, having to stay still while your walls pulsate around him.

Soon you’re quite literally thrown into your second orgasm when Aaron’s thumb rubs your clit as he pushes in deep, staying there, letting you squirm until he tells you to let go, and you do.

“Good girl,” he whispers, kissing your cheek lovingly. “That’s my good girl.”

Once your orgasm has settled down, he carefully lifts you off of him, setting you back on your feet. A puzzled look crosses your face.

“What?”

“You didn’t…”

He smiles. “I told you, I wanted to make you feel good.”

“And you did, but--”

“It’s okay, sweet girl.” He kisses your forehead once before turning to rinse off his dick, but you’re not giving up that easily.

You sneak your hands around his waist, resting your cheek on the middle of his back while you swat his hands out of the way.

“Little girl...what do you think you’re doing?”

“Making you feel good,” you murmur, gently stroking him.

It doesn’t take long for him to cum with a muffled cuss word under his breath. You sigh happily against his back, letting go of his dick to hug him instead.

Aaron turns around to gather you in his arms, moving forward slightly so your face isn’t directly under the water. “Is someone tired?”

You shake your head, even though you practically bury yourself in his chest. “Just content.”

“Feeling better?”

“Much,” you giggle. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he kisses your forehead. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

[scarlettriot]

For All The Uterus Owners

What the MHA boys do to make you feel better during that time of the month when you are in absolute PAIN!

Warning: 18+ content below the cut. Mentions of sexy times. And period things, obviously. Mild cursing. 18 and under DNI

A/N: Yes, I am projecting. No, I don't care a single bit.

Midoriya

. This man knows your cycle better than you do!

. It might seem annoying but Midoriya just uses all the knowledge he's gathered to make it this time as comfortable as it possibly can be.

. During the days leading up to your period, he will stock up on all your favorite snacks, make sure the heating pad is easily accessible and he buys pain meds in bulk!

. Throughout your period, Midoriya will do little things to make your day easier.

. He'll always make sure you have a glass of water because hydration is important.

. He will throw your towel in the dryer while you shower so it's warm when you're done.

. Absent minded massages for your shoulders, feet, legs, chest. Things like that.

. "I just want you to be as comfortable as you can, doll."

. He knows when your worst days are and will do whatever he can to make them less painful. If you're irritable and want him to fuck off, he will. If you want cuddled until you're sick of him, he'll do that too!

. Hero work will come up but he does his best to check in with you in case you need him to bring anything home.

. The one thing he hasn't ever been too comfortable with is sex during this time. He's tried, poor man really has but he just cannot.

. But, he knows how much it can help SO! Whatever toys you want, he'll get them. You want dirty talk or phone sex, he'll be at the top of his game! Anything to help you, during this time, he doesn't give a single crap about his own pleasure.

. He will pounce on you the moment it's over though and I hope you didn't plan on walking anywhere in the days that follow.

Bakugo

. He might seem like he doesn't pay attention to these things but the man knows.

. He doesn't think about picking up pain meds or putting new batteries in the heating pad but without fail, you can find your favorite snack well stocked just before you're due to start.

. It might have taken him some getting used to but Bakugo has come to the decision (begrudgingly) that while you're on your period YOU are the one who gets to be full of sass and attitude.

. He does try his best to temper his anger around you during this time. He has his slip-ups but he's trying to not make you more irritable than you already are.

. That doesn't mean he lets you get away with shit though.

. You're still drinking that water he's brought you.

. You have to eat something other than sweats and salty treats.

. You're also are not allowed to miss that meeting for work.

. If you're cuddling, he will pop off tiny little explosions to heat his palms and rest them over your lower abdomen, your back, or your chest. Whatever is aching.

. If you suggest a little sexy time might help relieve a certain ache he'll be more than happy to aid you. But, HE will only suggest it if you're being particularly sassy, complaining too much.

. "Cramps bothering you? Bet I can make you forget about 'em."

. Bakugo will take it as a personal challenge to make you forget about the pain your damn uterus is causing you. The only one allowed to make you feel sore is him, damn it!

Todoroki

. This poor guy...

. Todoroki obviously knew what periods were, he has a sister but he didn't KNOW about them until he lived in the dorms of UA. (I headcanon that Ochaco had very, very bad cramps one day and missed training and when he asked Midoriya why she didn't go to Recovery Girl to fix it they decided it was time for an educational meeting).

. They're still a mystery to him for the most part. He knows they hurt you, make you double over in pain sometimes and it's not the kind of pain that can be healed through a quirk.

. He knows you like certain foods and that snuggling against his warm side makes you feel better.

. With his father's credit card, he will buy you whatever food you like. Tell you to book a day at the spa or whatever it is that will make you feel better.

. He's shocked you don't usually accept his offer and would rather just stay in, cuddling against him instead. Not that he minds after a long day of hero work.

. Todoroki will regulate his heat until you are comfortable, you practically pulling his leg across you and using him as your personal heating pad.

. "This can't be comfortable for you. Please, let me just get you something that's meant to help you."

. He has a hard time understanding that he is your favorite and that this actually is comfortable.

. You'll have to explain to him there are other things only he could do to help you too...you'll really have to explain it to him too.

. He's willing to give you what you need though as long as it gets rid of some of your pain.

. He is going to suggest doing it in the shower though, hoping to avoid making too much of a mess.

Kaminari

. Yeah, I think Kaminari is too scatterbrained to actually remember when your time of the month is. He picks up on the subtle changes in your mood quickly though when it's coming.

. When he does realize though, he's at the store that very day throwing literally EVERYTHING and ANYTHING in the cart that even has the possibility of making you feel better.

. From food to medication, to stuffed animals, to video games, to board games... it's all going in the cart.

. This is how you ended up with the life-sized teddy bear that now sits in the corner of your room...

. Take-out happens every single night. He'd try and cook if you asked him but you know that's probably safer to just let him be generous and order in.

. Big time promoter of snuggles!

. Big time promoter of period sex!

. "It helps! Or, that's what I've been told... I'm just sayin' we could give it a shot!"

. And it did help. Because of that, it is now one of the first things he suggests doing when you are even just a smidge irritable.

. You can chuck the life-sized bear at him. He won't take it personally.

. It might come off as annoying but, he does everything he can to get you feeling wonderful again. Expending all his efforts on you. Doing everything he can to be a buzzy distraction and get you to smile.

Kirishima

. Not nearly as detailed as Midoriya is but also not as aloof as Bakugo. Kirishima cares about you and your health and he sure as hell isn't afraid to show it.

. He'll take a peak where he knows you store your feminine products a few days before you're due to start and then go out to the store to pick up anything you might be running low on. You seriously haven't had to buy anything for yourself. He learned after like two months of dating.

. While there, he will also make sure you have plenty of snacks as well as actual food for meals because keeping your energy up is just as important as making sure you're comfortable.

. When he isn't off being the sturdy hero he is, he's your comfort hero at home.

. Wrapping you both up in the heated blanket, he has to stick a leg out so he doesn't overheat but he'll be damned if he gives up cuddles just because he's a little warm.

. During this time, Kirishima will do everything he can to make sure you aren't lifting a finger! He's had cramps before, in his legs and arms from working out and his several growth spurts, he can't imagine how you deal with them month after month!

. He'll offer to do just about anything for you normally but that goes double when it's your time of the month.

. Massages are his favorite way to help you though. They usually always turn into something more not that either of you complains.

. He will let you take the lead every single time.

. "Just tell me what I can do to help. Whatever you need, pebble, just tell me."

. That statement is always said multiple times over the course of your period but with different contexts.

. Going to the store, running you a bath, getting medicine from the pantry, dicking you down until you're speechless... you know, whatever you need.