#their side profiles? noses? something are also really similar

[incognit0slut]

Lose Control

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

Spencer finds himself locked in a room with his rival. Based on:

warning: 18+ explicit content including oral (both), hair-pulling, chocking, and unprotected, semi-public, hate sex

words: 6.8k (I'm a smut-with-a-plot kind of person)

a/n: this is not enemies to lovers. This is, quite frankly, enemies to (fuckable) enemies. Also, we hit 1.2k followers!! Tysm!! I legit made this blog 2 months ago that’s crazyyy😳

MASTERLIST

“…mind games until you lose control…”

CHANGE WAS INEVITABLE WHEN IT CAME TO HIS WORK. Spencer encountered many great people walking through the door of the bureau throughout the years he worked as a profiler. Most of them he genuinely liked, and most of them he considered more than mere colleagues. But from all the people he had to work with, there was one person he really couldn't stand.

"Move out of the way, Reid, you're blocking the way."

He turned to see the last person he wanted to indulge in standing close to him, a hand on her hip and a frown on her face. "There is literally enough space for you to pass through."

"And jeopardize myself by touching you?" She wrinkled her nose. "I think I'll pass."

His gaze, usually warm and welcoming, hardened into a steely resolve. It pierced through her like an icy dagger, radiating an unmistakable contempt. He then backed away, walking further into the room that held rows of shelving units lining up the space. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, ever since we found the victim's body surrounded by those cryptic signs, it reminded me of the cult massacre which happened in—"

"St. Joseph, 1947," he finished.

"Yeah, although this isn't mass murder, I thought the nature of the death was very similar to that old case." He could practically hear the smugness in her voice as she continued, "I also knew you'd be here and wanted to beat you to it."

His gaze settled on her standing by the door. "I don't think that's going according to plan considering I was here before you arrived."

"Please, you just got here. I bet I can find the files before you do."

His brows furrowed. How could he not feel some kind of disdain when she was acting the way she was? One might say he was acting too immature for his age, for a man who was close to pushing forty he did consider himself too old for petty fights. But it was hard to keep his composure when she was often the one taunting him, ridiculing him with that haughty mouth of hers.

It was better to ignore her presence completely, so he did just that, focusing his attention on the files in front of him as she stepped into the room.

She frowned, feeling her throat clenching before coughing out loud as dust particles greeted her entrance. She was busy trying to swat the specks of dust away from her face when something solid suddenly nudged her feet. Her eyes swept towards the floor.

"Why is this massive book laying here?" She picked up the thick paperback and read its title. "The Anatomy of Motive?"

Spencer's head snapped in an alert. "Wait! Don't—"

But it was too late. The old wooden door hanging loosely on its rusted hinges creaked without any support to keep it ajar, and with a resounding thud, it closed, the sound echoing through the stagnant air. "I put that there for a reason," he grumbled. "And now we're stuck here."

She leaned forward and wrapped her hand around the handle, trying to yank the door open. The panic on her face was evident when it didn't budge. "Shit."

"You can only open it from the other side."

She turned towards him. "Do you have your phone with you?"

"No."

She groaned because her own device was also securely tucked in her bag. Not wanting to be locked in a room with the last person she wanted to be with, she started pounding on the door frantically. "Help! Penelope! Luke!" Bang. Bang. "Anyone!"

"Nobody's going to hear you."

She tuned him out.

"Emily! JJ!" She pressed herself against the door, drawing her mouth close towards the tiny gap between the wooden panel and the wall. "Help! We're locked in!" She suddenly caught his movement from the corner of her eyes and turned to him, noticing the way he was already studying a file.

"What are you doing?"

He slipped back the document into the cabinet and went through the other folders. "Might as well work until they realize we're gone."

She straightened herself and glanced at the watch around her wrist. "But it's late. What if everyone's gone home and we're stuck here for the night?" A thought struck her and she looked up in horror. "Or for days?"

"Then you have yourself to blame."

She glared at him. "You're not helping."

Spencer looked up to see her jaw clenching, accentuating the sharp angles of her face. Her normally composed features, so delicately balanced, now seemed to unravel in a heat of fury. It was the only expression she held every time she had to deal with him.

He glanced away and focused back on his task. "Don't worry, we have a team of competent profilers. If they can find dangerous criminals throughout the country, they can also find their two missing agents."

She considered his words and acknowledged the truth behind them, so she reluctantly moved to the other side of the room, going through the shelves opposite of him. The space went completely still as they both went through the stack of folders shelved between the old cabinets. It wasn't until curiosity got the better of him that he finally looked up, his eyes falling onto her form.

Her back was facing him, giving him a view of her tousled hair falling down over her shoulders. His eyes involuntarily trailed the contours of her body, betraying a mixture of intrigue and curiosity. His gaze lingered upon the gentle curve of her shoulder, the graceful line of her spine, and the sway of her hips as she moved onto the next shelf, her steps echoing through the silence and it was then he realized she was wearing heels.

Again.

This wasn't the first time she decided to wear shoes that looked very uncomfortable to wear. Who even wore heels in this line of work? Being an FBI agent meant you had to be quick on your feet because anything could happen unexpectedly. He once voiced out his opinion on this matter, which she only answered with, "My choice of clothing won't reduce the capability of my brain, Reid. You and I are still doctors even if I wear a bathing suit to work."

"It's not about your choice of clothing, it's about being practical."

"That's why I keep a pair of sneakers in my drawers,” she had haughtily replied, then narrowed her eyes at him. "And don't comment on my shoes when I've held myself from judging on your ugly cardigans."

His cardigans were not ugly.

He shook the memory away as eyes roamed over her again, noticing her very exposed legs. She was also wearing a skirt today, something she often did and something he never dared to have an opinion on, knowing she would probably bite his head off if he did.

"Stop staring at me."

Spencer cleared his throat at being caught. "I wasn't."

"I could practically feel your eyes on me." She looked over her shoulder. "I have great spidey senses."

There was a sudden pause. "Spidey senses?"

"Yeah, like Spiderman." When he didn't respond, she turned around and faced him. "Please tell me you know who Spiderman is?"

When he returned her gaze with a frown, she couldn't help but laugh, turning her back towards him again. "You know this is why people like me better than you. We both may be smart, but you got to admit, my knowledge doesn't simply stop on academics."

He should've been offended by her words, he should've countered back a vile reply, but her voice became white noise to him as he watched her body leaning down, picking up a document that slipped from her grasp. His eyes caught the way the tight skirt clung to her form like a second skin. The fabric, stretched taut against her curves, highlighted the alluring lines of her figure. The skirt's snug fit caressed her thighs, tracing their slender form and hinting at the softness beneath.

This wasn't the first time he noticed her beauty in this type of way, beneath all that glare she often carried whenever he was around her, he knew she was an attractive woman. It was her personality that often stopped him from marveling this insight. But being in this closed, tight space, Spencer was forced to study her, and with the way his body was reacting, he knew his lingering stare was more than simple admiration.

He could feel his blood pulsing down south, tightening underneath the confinement of his pants.

As she straightened herself, she felt a sudden shift in the atmosphere. She turned her head and noticed his eyes training on her body.

"You're still staring." She then caught a glimpse of something unguarded in his gaze, something that was definitely far from hatred. Her mind whirled with questions, trying to decipher the meaning behind it. "Stop looking at me like that."

A hint of a smile played on his lips. "Like what?"

"Like you either want to strangle me or—"

"Or?" He prompted.

Like you want to eat me alive.

It was the only way she could describe it. She was aware of how his eyes usually pierced her, how every movement she made or word she uttered could trigger this immense disdain radiating from him. But now the weight of his gaze bore down upon her, casting a palpable heat that danced across her skin. Something had changed, and she felt it in the intensity of his eyes, so different from the usual hostility she had come to expect.

They held a predatory gleam as if he could pounce on her at any moment.

“If I hadn't known you better," she carefully spoke, watching as he took a step towards her, and she took one back, bumping into the wall. "I'd say you're trying to flirt with me with those eyes."

"Me? Flirt with you?" He cocked an eyebrow. "Don't flatter yourself."

She scoffed, squaring her shoulders as he closed the distance between them. "You're right. What was I thinking? You can't even flirt to live."

"You don't even know how I flirt."

"Reid, I've seen you flirt," she said between fits of laughter. "Remember you tried getting that cop's number? You were stuttering and suddenly giving her facts about oil paintings. Paintings."

"She had an interest in fine art," he stated. "And if you must know, after giving those informative facts, I told that no amount of art could ever compare to her beauty as a compliment.”

She snorted, shaking her head in disbelief. "And that actually worked? She gave you her number?"

"No." Then a smirk curled on his lips. "But she did come home with me."

She frowned. That was new information. She never really thought about what went on in his love life, but hearing him implying his active sex life had her feeling strange. "She did?"

He took another step forward. "If I hadn't known you better," he carefully spoke, mimicking her words before. "I'd say you're jealous."

She tilted her head up and scowled at him. "Even if you were the last person on this planet I wouldn't consider breathing in the same air with you."

She waited for his response, but he didn't even seem to be bothered by her words. And as they stood there, holding each other's gaze, she became acutely aware of everything; their close proximity, the warmth radiating from his body, and the rise and fall of his chest. His unfamiliar scent lingered in the air, a distinct combination of earthy musk and a hint of something indefinable. She had never allowed herself to notice it before, but now it was impossible to ignore.

Her eyes then traced the lines on his face, sharp jaw, high cheekbones, and finally settled on his eyes. At first, she thought her eyes was deceiving her, but she knew exactly what held behind his gaze. It was the same expression she saw in all her past lovers. It wouldn’t have surprised her to see the same intensity on other men, but to see it on him? The guy who had always hated her guts the moment she corrected his statistic rants the first time they met?

Spencer fucking Reid?

It was too much for her to handle. She was used to his piercing gaze, his evident disdain. Not this. It became almost overwhelming that she decided to step away.

Just as she turned to retreat from the intensity of his gaze, her body froze as she felt warm fingers gripping her wrist. The contact sent a jolt through her body and her eyes snapped back at him. "What the hell are you doing?"

Ah, there it was, that hatred she was looking for blazing in his eyes again. "You see, I don't like you."

"Good." She held her chin up. "The feeling's mutual."

"You think you're better than everybody else, you think you're better than me."

She was about to retort another response when he suddenly yanked her, a gasp leaving her mouth. "But somehow I can’t help myself from wanting to taste you.”

Then it happened so fast. One moment she was trying to register what was happening, the next thing she knew his lips were on hers, moving frantically in desperate hunger. She couldn't believe he was actually kissing her. It also burned her up inside to find he was good at it. She wanted him to be all teeth and awkward so she could sneer at him and push him away, but he was holding her face in his hands like they hadn't spent months sniping at each other.

A turmoil of thoughts swarmed her mind—What are you doing? Why are you kissing him back? What the hell is wrong with you?—while she gripped onto his arm as a pleased sigh slipped through her mouth before she could catch it.

He slowly pulled away from her, eyes glittering in mischief. "Would you look at that?" he muttered, gripping her jaw and tilting her face like he was appraising her. "All bark and no bite."

She shoved his hands away from her face, ignoring how nice it had felt, wide and warm and firm. "Don't test me."

"Yeah?" His hand settled on her hip, pulling her against him deliberately slow, giving her every opportunity to knock his hand away, to sidestep him, to tell him to stop, but she didn't. He took it as a sign to run his hand behind her. "I think you're bluffing."

Her heart quickened when she felt him gently squeezing her ass. "A-About what?"

"All this bravado of yours," he taunted, his hands now trailing down to her sides. "I bet there's something sweet underneath all this bitterness."

"You don't know me," she hissed breathlessly. It was difficult to keep snapping back at him when his other hand ran up her leg, pushing her skirt up as he went, his grip encompassing the entire width of her thigh.

"Maybe not. But I'm always up for a challenge." His calloused hand brushed at the lacy edge of her underwear and she sucked in a shaky breath. "Let's see how long you can keep up with this attitude."

She opened her mouth to say something snippy, but he ducked down and kissed the words out of her mouth with a low groan. Her brain suddenly froze when his finger curled under the outline of her underwear and tugged it to the side, trailing his slender finger through her bare slit.

A smirk curled at the corner of his lips as pulled away, trailing his mouth along her jawline. His finger brushed along her slickness and it took a lot of self-control for her not to moan. "How are you already so wet?"

Although a small gasp emitted from her as she felt him sliding a finger, and when his thumb pressed against her clit, she closed her eyes, tossing her head to the side at the feeling of him filling her up.

"You're awfully quiet," he murmured against her neck, sucking a bruise against her soft skin as he began to pump his finger. "Who would've thought I had to touch you to keep your mouth shut."

She bit her bottom lip, fighting against the pleasure that surged through her, desperately trying to suppress the enjoyment coursing through her veins. "I hate you."

"No, you don't." His tone was vexingly calm, and all it did was rile her up more. She wished he'd match her frustration because his composure was annoying. Then to make matters worse, he let out an amused laugh. He fucking laughed. "Look at you trying to hold yourself back."

"I'm not—fuck." She gasped as she felt his finger curling inside her.

"Keep telling yourself that." He added another finger and she slumped against the wall, pressing back hard to keep herself upright as he pumped his wrist. "It's okay to admit you're enjoying this."

"I-I'm not," she huffed indignantly.

"Has anyone ever told you you're a bad liar?"

Her breath mingled with the sound of her arousal echoing in the narrowed space as he drove his fingers into her faster. "Shut up, Reid." She then grabbed onto his arm as the pleasure intensified, nails digging into his skin. "You think you're so smart, so full of yourself—"

"You really like picking up a fight, don't you? That's why you always have an attitude with me." His lips brushed her ear. "It gets you worked up. It gets you wet."

She quickly shook her head. "I just don't like you."

"Hmm." He leaned back and watched the way she tensed beneath his touch, her muscles coiling with delicate restraint. It was as if she fought against the pleasure that threatened to consume her, seeking to maintain control even as her body betrayed her desires. "I wonder if you'll like it as much if I put my head between your thighs."

The thought of having his face buried right where her arousal burned drove her over the edge. Her body betrayed her and she knew he could feel it too. "Oh wow, you're clenching around my fingers," he hummed in satisfaction. "Is that what you want? You want me to eat you out?"

"No," she mumbled but he found her hips bucking against his palm.

"Your body is saying otherwise." He withdrew his fingers but kept rubbing tight circles against her clit. Her blood was hammering under her skin and her legs shook as she tried to roll her hips up against his hand again. "Say you want me between your thighs."

She gritted her teeth, her muscles tightening in a valiant effort to hold back the mounting pleasure that begged to be unleashed. "I'm not saying that."

"Are you sure?" His other hand traveled along the back of her head before fisting her hair in his hand, exposing the column of her throat to him. "Don't you want to come all over my face?"

"Reid..." she mumbled hopelessly, her head spinning as his hot breath brushed against her skin. The thought of admitting that infuriated her because him actually getting her off was something she'd never live down. This was Spencer Reid, the man who had always infuriated her with his know-it-all statistics as if she hadn't already known half of the things he said.

But damn it, she really wanted him between her thighs.

"Say it," he repeated, moving his hand away entirely, and she grabbed his wrist desperately, pulling his fingers back to where she wanted them. "Say I want your mouth on me, Spencer, and I'll happily oblige."

"Reid—"

"Spencer," he corrected. "Say it."

Her body quivered, a taut wire stretched to its limit, yearning to snap under the weight of the pleasure that coursed through her. And then his finger suddenly stopped its movement and she knew he wasn't going to touch her again until she gave in. If that's how he wanted it, fine. She was going to consider this as one of their silly mind games, their usual banter whenever they tried to outwit one another. She could figure out a way to get back at him later. She could swallow her pride for now.

"I want your mouth on me," she reluctantly caved in.

"Did you forget my name?"

Unbelievable.

"I fucking hate you," she sneered. Then she pushed him away from the crook of her neck and leveled her gaze on him. "Just put your fucking mouth on me, Spencer."

He clicked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a very foul mouth."

But true to his words, he eventually dropped to his knees, his hands trailing on either of her sides before he slipped her underwear down her legs. His fingers trailed along her skin as he did it, prickling the depth of her anticipation even when her mind was still trying to comprehend what she was letting herself in.

Because she had never thought of getting eaten out at work, let alone with someone she hated. Sure, hate was a very strong word, but it was what she was used to feeling whenever it came to him. It was easy to engross her hatred every time he treated her differently from the others.

Hate she could do, it came naturally to her. But to desire him, actually wanting him to bury his face between her thighs, was starting to mess her up, and not in a bad way. Not in a way that had her feeling repulsed, but in a way that made her want to grab onto his hair and pull his face right at the center of her heat.

Spencer looked up at her and smiled, as if he knew what she was thinking, and pushed up her skirt around her hips. His eyes bored into her as he hiked one of her legs onto his shoulder. His gaze traveled down her body, taking in her flushed cheeks—out of anger or embarrassment, he didn't know—and continued to sweep over the curve of her breasts before they stopped right in front of him.

"Look at you." He leaned closer, his breath brushed her damp skin. "Aren't you a pretty thing?"

There was something compelling about having Spencer sinking on his knees before her, but having his mouth wrapped around her clit pulled away her senses and her legs started to buckle that she had to grab onto the nearest cabinet for support. She stifled a moan, not expecting the enthusiastic way he devoured her from below with frantic motions of his wandering tongue.

This was so wrong. However, heat continued washing over, traveling up towards her face and burning at the tips of her ears. The more his mouth sucked onto her, lapping his tongue through her slickness, the more her body coursed with pleasure that she couldn't stop herself from sinking her fingers into his hair, holding him in place as she ground her hips over his face.

"For someone who claims to hate me," he whispered, his voice vibrating against her skin, his tongue pushing into her walls. "You sure are enjoying this."

A moan was thick in her throat until she swallowed it down, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of how true his words were. "You're annoying. So fucking annoying," she hissed.

Spencer hummed. "And you taste so good."

She gasped in surprise when she felt him lick a long stripe along her slit, the rough pad of his tongue catching her clit as she jolted. His fingers dipped into her thighs as he held her steady, lewd sounds leaving his lips as he continued to suck her wetness. His movements were suddenly fast, so feral and animalistic as he shamelessly lapped her skin, swallowing every liquid dripping off her body.

The built-up pleasure inside her continued to grow as she rolled her hips into his mouth, trying to focus on the sensation of him pressing his tongue against the same spot each time. Her chest was heaving as she tried to focus on the pleasure that was slowly taking over her rational thoughts, the coil inside her desperately close to breaking.

"Oh, god," Her voice shook, head tipped back and eyes staring at the ceiling as she felt herself dance on the precipice of release for a few agonizing moments before she finally started to shatter. Then a strangled cry left her lips as she began to buck her hips as he continued to suck her clit through her climax, the pleasure clouding her mind. It wasn't until he finally stood up, looking down at her with a grin that she finally took in what just happened.

"Do you still hate me?"

Yes, yes she did, especially with that smug smile of his taunting her. Yet she found herself hooking her fingers around the belt strap of his pants, pulling him closer as the weight of her resistance began to crumble under the force of his unwavering gaze. "So fucking much." The triumphant smile on his face grew as she started to unbuckle his belt, the sound echoing in the room. "Do you have a condom?"

"Do you really think I'm the type of person to be carrying a condom in my pocket?"

"I think you're the type of person who never gets laid." He threw her an uninterested stare which she decided to ignore. Then she let her hands fall to the side. "I'm not having sex without a condom."

Spencer weighed in her words. If he was smart, he would've stopped himself, pulled away, and accept her admission. But he didn't want to be smart, after depending on his intelligence throughout his life, he didn't want to be rational. It was definitely out of his character, but there was something about her that stirred a dormant part of him, awakening desires and emotions he hadn't known existed within his soul.

He had always prided himself on his restraint and self-discipline, but after finally having a taste of her, he found himself unraveling. He wanted more. So he leaned closer, and pressed a desperate kiss at the hollow of her throat, marveling at the way her body trembled from his touch. "Why not?"

She was going to regret it. She really was. But damn it, how could she restrain herself when he was sucking into her skin like a man starved. She splayed her hands on his chest and pushed him away before giving him the deadliest glare she could muster.

"I swear to god if you finish inside me I will kill you."

Then a smirk pulled at the corner of his lips. "Was planning to come in your mouth anyway."

She was about to retort a haughty response when he suddenly grabbed her by the elbow and turned her around, pushing her against the wall. She was taken aback by the newfound dominance he exuded in his touch. It was a side of him she had never witnessed before, and it sent a thrill of surprise and intrigue coursing through her veins, something she would never admit out loud.

He dragged his tongue across his lips at the sight before him as his hands reached for his belt, unclasping the strap before unbuttoning his pants, the sound of his zipper being pulled down echoing in the narrowed space. He then slightly pulled down his briefs, slipping out his cock before his knee wedged in between her thighs, parting her legs to open.

He slightly shifted, his jaw twitching as he gathered saliva in his mouth, craning his neck down to spit on her pulsing core before the head of his cock gently nudged her clit. Embarrassingly, she clenched around nothing. Her vision went white and she felt herself tremble as he positioned himself at her entrance, pushing in inch by inch.

"Fuck," he sighed, hips twitching as he finally slid into her fully, feeling her walls clenching hard around him. "I can get used to this."

She could get used to this too. She had never felt so full before, never felt herself being stretched like this so deliciously, but she certainly didn't need to feed his ego by moaning about it. "Well don't, this is the only time I'm letting this happen."

He pulled back his hips, leaving only the tip as he watched her slickness coated around him. "We'll see about that."

And then all hell broke loose.

He slammed into her with so much force that she let out a muffled scream as her eyes shot wide open. He relentlessly bucked his hips, his cock filling her over and over without self-control, the tip of him hitting her deepest parts relentlessly. She could barely even think as his hips fell into a rhythm, sending her higher and higher with each thrust.

Her legs tensed up even more at the pressure, his hands gripping her hips so hard his fingers dig into her flesh that she knew she would leave bruises. Behind her, he was grunting and growling through gritted teeth as he repeatedly buried himself into her without remorse. It didn't take long before his vicious thrusts had her eyes rolling back behind closed lids, her mind going entirely blank to everything but this very moment.

One of his hands released her hip before she felt him grabbing a fistful of her hair, just at the base of her skull, and sharply pulling. A high-pitched, breathy noise tore out of her at the feel of it. "Poor baby," he cooed. "Look at you so desperate for my cock."

She couldn't help but be stunned by his words. Who would've thought Spencer Reid was good at dirty talk? Definitely not her. It was as though he had unveiled a secret facet of his personality that had remained hidden until now, and she found herself captivated by this revelation.

Not that she was going to admit this, of course, so instead, she solely focused on the way he addressed her. "I am not your baby."

"You want me to call you something else?" He asked between bated breaths, hips thrusting into her. "How about Angel? Darling? Sweetheart?"

She let out a frustrated groan at his teasing but it was probably impossible to discern it from the rest of the noises she was trying to hold. "Are you always this chatty during sex?"

"No," he hummed as he picked up his pace, sending a helpless spasm through her.

"R-Really?" She mused breathlessly. "I must be special then."

He then tugged on her hair even rougher, causing her to curse loudly in response, her hips beginning to eagerly press backward into him as his hips jutted into her relentlessly like a man possessed. "Don't get too cocky."

"Just admit it," she whispered, pleasure racing down her body in waves. "You like me."

With another sharp tug on her hair, he abruptly plunged his cock so deep inside of her that she couldn't stop herself from arching her back. He held himself there as he used the grip on her hair to haul her backward to him, a surprised yelp falling out of her. "I don't like you."

Her back fell onto his chest and she felt his body vibrating behind her. "Then why is your heart beating so fast?"

"Well, sex is physically exerting so..."

How was it possible to be this aroused and annoyed at the same time? Wasn't sex supposed to be enjoyable? Well, she was clearly enjoying this, but it was hard to fully sink into the pleasure when he was driving her insane. Unless...

It dawned on her, that was her move. That was how she could play his game. Maybe she should be enjoying this to the fullest, maybe she should stroke his ego, get into his head, and have him feel as desperate as she was. A fierce determination ignited within her, fueling a newfound resolve to turn the tables on him. This was how she was going to get him back.

"Harder," she asked, pushing her hips into him.

His pace suddenly slowed down, uncertain whether he was hearing her right. "Yeah?"

She nodded. "Please?" she added before he could prompt her.

A satisfied sound escaped his lips—it was a sound she had never heard coming from him, loud and crude emitting between a growl and something coming close to a whimper, which had her smiling triumphantly. "L-Look at you begging now."

This was easier than she expected. She rolled her head back against his shoulder and let out a moan she had kept so hard on controlling. "I want you to fuck me harder, Spencer."

His sharp intake of breath at that moment was worth it. "I know what you're doing."

"What am I doing, baby?" she asked sweetly, dripping in forced affection that sounded nothing like her at all.

He instantly released the hold on her hair, his hand snaking around to grip her throat as his other hand slid around the front of her. "You're messing with me."

She let out a strained sound as she felt his other hand traveling down where they were connected. "I-I thought you wanted me to admit how good you make me feel? Is that not enough? You want me to cry out how amazing your cock feels inside me?"

Then she couldn't help her next words.

"Should I call you daddy?"

Oh, that got him. He hissed as the hand on her throat tightened. "You're a menace."

"A menace you enjoy fucking?"

His lips curled into a snarl. "I'm going to wipe that smug look off your face."

Only then he began to thrust back into her roughly. A series of breathy, needy gasps fell out of her as she held tight onto his forearm that was holding her by her throat. His other hand on her clit circled around roughly, touching her just right that she entirely lost it, her hips quaked against him as he groaned out in response, her walls clenching his cock.

Then his hand left her clit a few moments later, instead landing hard on her ass with a sharp smack that sounded throughout the room. His fingers dug into the flesh there as his hips began clumsily ramming into her, his cock twitching inside of her. The stimulation was too much for her that she clamped a hand over her mouth, trying to keep quiet as he stretched her harshly, the delicious burn only adding to the pleasure.

"You're still holding back?" He taunted, bringing back his hand before another loud smack rang in her ears, her ass burning from the pain. "Let that voice out, no one's going to hear you."

It was amazing how long she could hold in her pleasure because now her walls were starting to crumble when a particularly deep and brutal thrust had his cock hitting her just right. And then, it happened—the dam of restraint finally burst. A low moan escaped her lips, a primal cry of pleasure that echoed through the room like a song of surrender

"That's it," he grunted. "You sound so pretty."

As the sensations intensified, her breaths came in shallow gasps, her heart pounding in her chest. Once she let herself go, she couldn't stop herself from moaning out his name, to which he responded with his own moan, especially when she clenched around him even tighter.

"You gonna come for me now?" She helplessly nodded, not trusting herself to form any coherent words, squirming her hips against him for more. "Go on then," he demanded, his lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Come for me."

She finally snapped as she gave in to the sensation that had been gradually crawling its way up her spine. Pleasure was soon coating every inch of her and as her eyes closed. She didn't bother to muffle her cries this time as she fell apart around his cock, her body convulsing as he continued to thrust inside her, forcing the pleasure to keep growing stronger and stronger until small black spots started to appear in her vision.

When her climax had washed over, she was left dizzy and breathless, still leaning against him. His loud panting breaths quickly filled her ears, his chest heaving beneath her head and she could tell by the way his hips were fluctuating in their pace, the feel of his throbbing cock inside of her, that he was very close to his release.

Panic suddenly crept into her daze state and she craned her neck to look back. "Don't you dare finish inside me, I swear to god—"

Very abruptly he slipped his cock out from inside of her, his arms releasing their hold on her just as fast before turning her to face him.

"Get on your knees."

The ground scraped her skin as she quickly sank onto her knees, and just because he looked so damn good tethering in his pleasure as she stared up at him, she gripped his cock in her hands and took him fully in her mouth.

"Fuck," the gravel in his voice was prominent, her lips gliding effortlessly down his shaft until her nose hits his stomach. His hand finds its way into her hair as she kneeled there before him, fisting a bunch of it at the scalp, desperately needing something to tie him down to reality.

She slid back off his cock to take just his head inside her mouth, swirling her tongue around it before flattening it against his tip, licking a fat stripe while looking up at him through her lashes. Spencer sucked in a sharp breath, tightening the grip on her hair.

Maintaining his gaze, she took him completely down her throat again, essentially swallowing him, holding herself there until she gagged around him. She could taste him on her tongue as she continued to repeat the motion, tears welling at her lids and saliva building at her lips, seeping down her chin.

He groaned at the sight.

"I-I'm gonna come—"

And he did. She felt lightheaded as the first shot of liquid filled her mouth, and then he jutted his hips a few more times before another surge of his release spilled down her throat. She swallowed him whole, swallowed every drop of him into her mouth as he continued to look down in wonder. She never thought of ever being in this position, but now she decided there was nothing else more satisfying than to watch her rival come undone from her touch.

Although she couldn't dwell in her contentment for long because as she released him from her mouth, the sound of the door rattling waked her senses. Panic flashed in her eyes as they met his gaze, and they instinctively stepped apart before sprinting into action, Spencer tucking himself back in his pants, while she quickly got to her feet and pulled down her skirt, scurrying to the other side of the room.

It wasn't until she spotted her underwear laying by his feet that she realized she was still naked underneath. Spencer followed her line of sight and just as the door creaked, he bent down and quickly grabbed the fabric, shoving it in his pocket at the same time their friend entered the room.

"There you are," Luke sighed in relief, casting them both a look. "We've been searching everywhere for you guys. Are you both alright? I thought I heard screaming."

In that fleeting moment, they both exchanged a glance laden with unspoken messages, each silently urging the other to maintain composure.

"Yes. I-uh." She cleared her throat, struggling to suppress the heat rising to her cheeks, willing herself not to betray the blush that threatened to expose what went on before this. "I was screaming for help."

Luke watched them with keen eyes, skepticism etched upon his face. A subtle tension crackled in the air, barely noticeable to most but not escaping the scrutiny of his gaze. He watched as Spencer hid his face behind a file he was holding, and she was studying her nails as if they were the most interesting thing in the world.

He narrowed his eyes but didn't say anything, before stepping back towards the door again. "Well, come on, there's a new lead on the case. Everyone's waiting."

When he finally left them alone again, she let out a breath she wasn't aware of holding and quickly held out her hand. Spencer raised his eyebrows at her. "What?"

"My underwear?"

He stared at her empty hand, then at her face, and shrugged nonchalantly, leaving her dumbfounded as he started to leave the room before the door closed on them again.

"Reid," she hissed, following behind him. "Give it back."

He looked over his shoulder and gave her a smile, or something close to it because even after what happened a few minutes ago his smile was far from looking genuine. "Come by my place after work and I might give it to you."

Her steps faltered.

"Might?"

But his back was already facing her as he strode down the hallway. She stood there, feeling extremely exposed wearing nothing but her own skin underneath her skirt, and the only way to get back her missing piece of clothing was to force herself in his presence again.

She closed her eyes and sighed, not sure what she felt right now was either anger or exhaustion. Probably both—no, wait, definitely both.

Because what the fuck did she get herself into?

.

Quick question, if I make a taglist for my one-shots does anyone want to be added?

[alisonfelixwrites]

Informed consent - chapter 1

Word count: 7,552

Mia Brown always thought she was a nice girl. She was polite, kept to herself yet was always keen on helping others if they gave her a little time to grow comfortable.

She grew up in a household where she never had the upper hand, where she was never considered the smart one. It was a feeling she got used to, waiting for instructions and then following them. Whenever she spoke a thought of her own, her parents were always quick in dismissing her and placing her back in line.

Mia Brown was raised to be perfect. 

Psychology wouldn’t have been her own first choice for a university degree, but it’s what her parents pushed her towards. They listed all the pros of a degree in that field and she found herself nodding. Before she knew it, her signature was on the enrolment form and her education was paid for.

Five years of university for a topic she had forced herself to grow excited about. Mia always assumed she’d go for something like… biology. The human body fascinated her, more specifically the brain. She sneakily watched Grey’s Anatomy for years, finally divulging in it fully now that she lived in a dorm and was no longer at her parents’ house, and for a long time saw herself as a neurosurgeon.

It was safe to say Cristina Yang was her example for a very long time. Her bossiness, her huge brain and her overall attitude was something Mia admired, she felt. That was until she suggested the idea to her parents, who rather quickly shushed her and shot her a disappointing look. Her father claimed surgery was a field for men, not women.

Mia remembered feeling disappointed, but forced a smile and had nodded at him either way.

According to him, she should choose a job where she could do regular office hours and be home at a nice time to care for her future husband. Someone her parents had apparently even already lined up for her. 

Daniel was nice enough, Mia thought. He was clever, polite and her father liked him. He was the son of a family friend and Mia saw him on certain occasions throughout the year. For the time being, both him and her were studying for their respective degrees at the colleges of their choice.

Mia didn’t particularly mind that they were on opposite sides of the country.

From a young age, she questioned her mother about the idea of love that she had seen in movies. Even though her parents never really allowed it, Mia did look at romantic films on the television and it was once more something she no longer deprived herself of now that she lived on her own.

The first time she asked her mother, was after watching Tarzan as a child. She liked how Jane fell for someone unconventional, someone who didn’t particularly fit the vibe of her own life. But she liked him for who he was and they ended up fitting their lives together.

Her mother hadn’t smiled gently at her question. She reprimanded Mia for it, for assuming that something like that could happen in real life. For her parents, love was a business deal. They had met in similar ways as Mia and Daniel had, and for them it was normal.

The first time Mia told her roommate and friend – Hazel – about it, Hazel’s eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. Her reaction actually made Mia laugh, because she felt like Hazel made a rather funny face and it caused a rather embarrassing snort to rise up Mia’s nose until she buckled over in laughter. Hazel stayed shocked for a few minutes before she questioned everything about this love-deal that Mia’s parents had made with Daniel’s parents.

She asked for a picture of Daniel, which Mia showed off of his Facebook-profile. Hazel had scrunched up her nose and pushed her thick-rimmed glasses further up her nose while also using both thumbs to zoom in on the picture. 

Mia had pressed her lips together, “He looks better in real life.” She defended him for some unknown reason.

The profile picture looked like him in the mediaeval centuries, posing for some kind of painter who’d make a portrait of him. It was stoic, very serious and the longer Mia stared at it, the funnier it became. Not long after, both her and Hazel were caught in a laughing fit while Hazel tried to impersonate Daniel’s picture.

It was hilarious, Mia thought. She couldn’t recollect a time she had laughed like that. So freely. 

She had been shy upon meeting Hazel at first, but she had given Mia time and space to open up and feel comfortable. She was still a little reserved, as she was around basically every human being. She was extremely polite and never did colour outside of the lines. It was quite the contrast from how Hazel lived. Sometimes, Mia thought, Hazel was a bit careless. She took inspiration from it, but in her own time.

Something that sadly enough didn’t move on her own time, was her education.

How she got through high school with flying colours, turned into a huge mystery for Mia. Upon starting university with all the hope in the world of liking psychology, it was a bit of a let down and a reality check when she struggled tremendously with the course materials.

It was a challenge she hadn’t faced in a while. All throughout high school, Mia had kept to herself and studied hard. The results proved worthy of how much time and effort she put into her assignments and tests. In university, she struggled.

Somehow her dyslexia didn’t bother her as much in high school. Mia’s teachers were aware of it and aided her for certain parts. In university, the professors weren’t as concerned and left the students to their own, and it made Mia anxious. 

While Hazel spent time with her friends – usually leaving the apartment to give Mia peace and quiet – Mia was huddled up at her desk with stacks of books and deadlines to achieve. It had surprised Mia, how hard of a time she had with the materials.

Mia did learn mechanisms, but it didn’t take away the added hardships of reading long texts or getting through thick books.

Especially when she was tired or anxious, the letters clouded together. The more frustrated Mia became, the harder it got to read the lines. It meant that she spent more time than ever between her books in order to pass her tests and get good grades. 

It meant the world to her parents to uphold her pristine reputation.

Even when Hazel tried to coax her out for a night, Mia most often refused. Not only did she suffer from social anxiety, she was far too preoccupied with her school work to let loose for even one night. 

“Good morning.” Mia softly spoke when she heard the closing of Hazel’s bedroom door. The next thing Mia heard was a loud yawn as Hazel dragged her feet over the hardwood floors of their shared apartment. 

Mia supposed it was the scent of coffee that woke Hazel up this Monday morning. Mia knew Hazel didn’t have classes for a few hours but that she had some texts to read. One thing that Mia’s psychology degree and Hazel’s philosophy degree had in common, was that they both had to read a lot. Thick books with different materials, yet the same amount of pages littered both their desks. 

Hazel was quite a bit more casual with it than Mia was, but that was alright. Hazel’s parents were nice people and upon meeting them for the first time, Mia sensed immediately where Hazel got her chaotic mind from. Mia’s parents did not assist in the furnishing-assembly party for their apartment while Hazel’s parents did. With bright smiles.

Mia made sure to thank them properly by cooking a nice meal for everyone that night. She declined the wine that Hazel offered and later on shared with her parents while Mia sipped on some water. 

The same table Hazel’s father had put together, now held two coffee mugs that Mia filled with black coffee. She glanced over her shoulder to see Hazel with a wild mess of curls on top of her head, run-down mascara and her pyjama top on backwards.

The sight made Mia giggle under her breath while Hazel joined her at the table, immediately holding her head with both hands to soothe the hangover Mia was sure she had. She never assumed Sundays could be for partying, but Hazel proved her otherwise. Apparently when in university, every night was for partying. And Hazel often used that excuse to leave for the night.

She softly slid the mug of coffee with the little pink unicorns on it towards Hazel while taking a sip of her own, poured in another one of Hazel’s funky mugs that Mia preferred. Hers had little daisies on it, and she found that it brightened her day.

“You’re an angel.” Hazel’s raspy voice was a clear indication from lack of sleep and one too many cigarettes, and Mia smiled at the sentiment, “I figured you might need it to wake up a little more. I think I heard you come home at around four.”

Hazel lifted her head, panda-eyes on full display as she stared at Mia, “Shit, did I wake you? I thought I was silent.”

Mia smiled softly – trying to hide her everlasting shock whenever Hazel blurted out a curse word just like that – and shook her head, “No, you didn’t. I never sleep all that amazing when I know you’re going out.”

“Mia,” Hazel groaned with a slight eye roll, “I told you to stop worrying about me.”

Mia looked down while taking another sip of coffee, “I know, but I can’t help it. I noticed you didn’t bring your coat and it was snowing right before I went to bed.” She defended herself for worrying about her friend.

Hazel chuckled, “That’s really sweet, but it’s about a thousand degrees in every nightclub.”

“But what about when you go outside?” Mia retorted curiously. Hazel shrugged, “I waited inside for the uber to come and get me, so it’s fine.”

Mia tilted her head to the side, “Right.”

Hazel took a large sip of her coffee and Mia looked at her with endeared eyes, “Did you have fun?”

“Really fun.” Hazel yawned, “You should really join us sometimes. I think you’d like my friends.”

Mia took it upon herself to plant a little polite smile on her face, nodding at Hazel’s proposition even though the idea made her stomach twist, “Yeah, sure.”

Hazel and Mia hadn’t met yesterday. They had lived together in this apartment for almost two months, so Hazel knew perfectly well that when Mia said ‘yeah, sure’, she actually meant no but she was too polite to say so.

Hazel was too tired and hungover to start any sort of discussion about it, and she also didn’t want to make Mia feel uncomfortable. Mia liked their dynamic so far. She had been nervous to live with anyone who wasn’t her parents and her older brother, who had gone off to university a few years prior and who she hardly kept in touch with. Hazel coaxed and urged her, but never pushed. She understood Mia, she felt. And it was something Mia was grateful for. Their dynamic of being roommates turned into a dynamic of being friends over the two months of living together.

“So what’s your day like? Are you home tonight?” Hazel questioned.

Mia sipped down more coffee while taking it upon herself to start packing her lunch. She shrugged her shoulders, “I have class in about thirty minutes. And then it’s just all through to the afternoon and then from three, I do some therapy.”

“Right. Lots of clients today?” Hazel asked and Mia puckered her lips, “I don’t know, honestly. I’m sure professor Dillon will tell me when I get to class.” She popped a piece of toast in her mouth while spreading some hummus on the rest of the bread she packed for lunch. 

Due to her struggling with her school assignments, her primary professor – professor Dillon – had offered her some work for extra credit. Her assignments and tests hadn’t been all that amazing, and in order to save herself, Mia was allowed to practise. She had never really learned many social skills, but found that giving therapy was something up her alley.

Maybe her parents were right after all when picking this degree for her. 

Mia found that listening to other people and exploring their minds was something she needed to be good at if she wanted to be a therapist. Due to Mia’s struggling grades, she was offered the opportunity to receive extra credit, along with a few other students. Mia stayed behind twice a week to give individual therapy to fellow other students. 

Some came to them voluntarily to just clear their minds and vent a little. Others had to come to therapy mandated from the school. Either they did something wrong at school ��� like they skipped too many classes or defiled the school property – and were given the choice to either pay a fine to the school or follow some therapy sessions with the psychology-students. 

Mia had questioned the ethics of it, along with Hazel. Of course Mia and her fellow students made referrals to actual therapists if they felt like the problems were too severe, but they had learned that the students that came in for therapy sometimes just wanted a chat. It was free, it was accessible and it was private.

And then there were those who had to follow it for mandatory reasons. It was a bit sneaky on the school’s end, but if students chose therapy rather than paying for defiled property or receiving detention, parents weren’t notified. It was a great way for the psychology students to get some practice in. 

It took Mia a little while to get on board with this plan, but the few students she had seen so far, had put her at ease and with each passing therapy session that she hosted, she felt like she got better at it.

One girl came to her because she had a minor drug problem but it was only an issue when she didn’t reach class on time in the mornings. Another came to her because they drunkenly broke into the school at night and broke a window. 

It was another thing Mia tried to let go of, the anxiety of trying to predict who she was going to have in front of her and what story they’d tell her. She had learned that it was something she couldn’t control and strangely, that put her at ease. She couldn’t prepare for some of the things she heard.

Obviously, she was a first year student who had hardly learned any actual theory about psychology, but her school believed in a practical approach and Mia decided to use it to her benefit and gain extra credit from it since studying wasn’t going to be her forte in university.

She finished packing her lunch while Hazel told some stories about her night out. Apparently, she had gone to a bar – which Mia wasn’t surprised by. Hazel told stories with her hands, Mia noticed. She liked listening to her. Her eyes enjoyed following the movements of her fingers, bringing strength to her words as she enthusiastically spoke about events that were completely foreign to Mia.

Drinking shots. Dancing on tables. Kissing strangers. Mia listened with perked ears and wide eyes of a world that was unfamiliar to her. It was a world she was curious for, but also scared of. For now, Mia felt alright just following along from the sidelines.

“I took extra bread out of the freezer so you can have lunch. And I cut up extra cucumbers too.” Mia spoke while closing her breadbox to put in her bag. Hazel’s eyes could’ve turned into hearts at Mia’s words and she smiled at her, “I have the best roommate ever.”

Mia blushed and giggled, floundering at the compliment which still felt uncommon to her to receive in the first place. She didn’t think she had ever been the best at anything, so she liked Hazel saying it like that even if it was a figure of speech. Mia was sure there were better roommates out there than her, but she didn’t get in that headspace because it was one she struggled to get out of.

With her brown hair in her signature braid behind her back, Mia worked her way on exiting the apartment. She wore black jeans, wool socks, boots and a few layers up top to keep warm. November had just begun and it was very cold in the UK to say the least. It’s why she had felt worried about Hazel going out in what Mia was sure was just another short dress, without a coat. 

With the first flakes of snow she saw drizzling from the sky from her opened curtain in the street lights, she felt a pang of worry shooting through her. Mia had learned that she enjoyed sleeping with her curtains open for the sheer fact that she could look outside. She enjoyed the business of their apartment, the sounds coming from the street, the distant chattering.

And at night, it was lovely silent. Mia loved the silence. 

She bundled up tightly and bid goodbye to Hazel before braving the cold and making her way to campus on foot. It was about a ten minute walk and only recently had she dared to start listening to music on her walks. Mia wasn’t superstitious or paranoid, but her parents had always warned her. Not about anything in specific, they just warned her. So she was careful and hesitant about everything, also the few same streets she always took to campus to get to her classes.

As expected, she got in early. Her first class today was child development. It wasn’t something Mia found herself very fascinated by. She wasn’t fascinated by most of her subjects and she had yet to find her passion in this field. Neuropsychology was the nail in her coffin, if she was honest. After class one she knew she’d struggle with that one.

Mia pulled out her laptop and took a seat by the window, giving her a view of the snowed-in campus. She found herself smiling at the comfortable view, feeling quite right at home on this campus. 

Moving away from home could’ve gone two ways. Part of Mia was very excited to do so, because her parents started to feel suffocating and she was keen on trying to figure out what life had to offer. She was ready to move on her own, spread her wings and figure it out. On the other hand, Mia realised she had always been very protected.

Her parents were set on her watching the news every night and she was confronted with the worldly horrors on a daily basis. It took her parents convincing to let her move to a big city as they called it. 

Mia wondered why they never gave her brother that hard of a time when he moved away.

Class moved by quickly as Mia paid attention and took notes, knowing she was messing up lots of the words she typed. It was another thing she lost time with, going over her notes and fixing them every night before she could actually study them. If she focussed on that in class, Mia knew she’d be lost after only a few minutes as the teacher moved too quickly. 

When the weather was still nice, Mia often chose to have lunch outside by herself. She’d sit at the campus grounds with a book or use the time to already go over her notes or study some more. But with the snow falling, she felt nerves seeping into her bones at the thought of having to eat at the cafeteria.

She spotted some of the people who had a few classes with her and they shot one another polite smiles. Mia was too shy to ask them if she could sit with them, so she chose a table in the back where a lot of people unfortunately dumped their trash after finishing their lunch.

Mia chose a spot at the far end of the table and used the back of her breadbox to push some of the empty wrappings to the side and give herself a little room to eat. She was grateful that during the course of her meal, no one threw anything on the table and they let her eat in peace.

After her afternoon class, she made her way over to professor Dillon’s office on the fourth floor of the North building. She had just snacked on some grapes and a cup of hot tea from the vending machine, her fingers coming down on professor Dillon’s office door which was slightly ajar.

He beckoned her in with a comforting grin, surrounded by stacks of papers on his desk.

His messiness resembled Hazel’s, Mia observed. 

“You only have one therapy talk today, Mia.” Professor Dillon handed her a small file and Mia took it without second thought, “Okay. Room two?”

He breathed out a small chuckle, “You don’t have to ask anymore, you can take room two.”

Mia smiled wider and nodded gratefully, “Thank you, professor.” Ever since beginning this volunteering work, Mia had preferred to give therapy sessions in room two. They could choose from five rooms since there were usually five students volunteering, Mia being one of them. She couldn’t pinpoint what it was about room two that she liked, but apparently professor Dillon didn’t need much confirming and just handed it to her.

With the file under her arm, Mia made her way to room two, opening it up comfortably only to be startled with a yelp when she realised she wasn’t alone.

A boy was in the room. Well, a man really.

His eyes flicked up at the sudden action of the door opening, his eyes landing on Mia from his seated position on the couch. He wore a dark blue beanie and an equally dark oversized jumper that covered part of his hands too. They were clasped together as his elbows leaned on his knees and he comfortably sat on the couch.

Mia caught her breath and tried to hide the pinking of her cheeks, forcing him a small smile even if the stranger nearly gave her a heart attack.

“Hi. You must be…” She casted her eyes down to the file that the professor handed her, squinting her eyes to read the name properly, “… Sinclair, Harry?”

He softly cleared his throat, “Yeah.”

Mia nodded and closed the door behind her, balancing her bag, the file and her cup of tea which she chose to set down first of all before making even more of a fool of herself. She shrugged off her coat and made the room a little comfortable, shooting Harry a small smile, “Sorry, I just got here.”

He didn’t answer her as she went around the room, turning on certain lights and also turning on the heating to get the space a little warmer. 

She had to admit she was a little startled to find the stranger here already. She liked getting in a little early to get the space ready and read through the file, to get a sense of at least the name of the person coming in for a chat. 

Harry stared at his feet as Mia moved through the space until eventually settling down into the couch opposite him, a small coffee table between them. Mia clamped both hands around her hot cup of coffee and left a bit of a silence, taking him in.

She noticed the little glob of snot in the corner of his left eye, the writing marks on his hands, the few chunky rings adorning his fingers and the way they tightly grasped one another, joining in his lap when he leaned back against the back of the couch.

“Aren’t you supposed to like… talk or something?” His voice broke the silence.

Mia snapped out of her admiring-state and flicked her eyes up, a flush rising up her chest that she tried to hide by taking a sip of her tea and burning her entire throat simultaneously – yet another thing she tried to play off.

“Do you want anything to drink?” She changed the subject.

“No.”

More silence. She liked doing it like this at first, because it gave room for the other person to say whatever they were feeling like.

“Are you just gonna keep staring at me? I don’t think this is how therapy works.” Harry spoke again, a boring tone to his voice as his fingertips started playing with the armrest of the couch where there was a small rip in the sowing. His fingers picked on the stuffing in it as he had a more relaxed position.

Mia pressed her lips together, trying to think of some conversation techniques she had read through before starting any therapy sessions with anyone, “It’s not. I just like to leave room for some silence, is that okay?” She could tell her voice didn’t sound all that steady. Mia really struggled with these therapy sessions but knew she had to practise if she ever wanted to do this for a living. Her social anxiety just got in the way most often and she needed some time to get into it.

“Not when it’s awkward.” He mumbled, his eyes then going to the clock on the opposite wall, exhaling another bored sigh. Mia tilted her head to the side, “You don’t want to be here.”

Harry clacked his tongue and didn’t look at her, “Nice observation.”

Another small blush from sheer embarrassment and Mia blinked a few times before finally reaching for the folder on her lap. Mia softly cleared her throat and opened it up, “So… Harry. What do you study?”

“Philosophy.”

Her ears perked and she fought the small smile on her lips, the immediate thought of Hazel popping into her brain. Mia was sure her loving roommate would have no issue striking up a conversation with this quick-witted young man in front of her. 

“That’s interesting.” She commented, earning her nothing more than a lazy shrug from Harry’s shoulders who seemed more occupied with destroying the stuffing of the couch than to speak to her. Mia nibbled her lip, unsure of where to go from here.

So she decided to ramble her memorised lines that she had to repeat all the time.

“So – “ She drew a breath, “you are in for eight sessions with me. The sessions are twice a week at first but about halfway we move onto once a week, so it’ll be a month and a half unless either of us falls sick or has to cancel due to class or an assignment.”

He didn’t react or respond so Mia felt like it was appropriate to continue, “We obviously don’t know one another, and I want you to know that nothing you say here will leave this room. I’m not here to judge. This is a… safe space.” She cringed while speaking the words but professor Dillon had urged her to speak them. 

Harry exhaled a soft huff but still didn’t look at her. 

“Oh, and I just need you to sign this. It’s an informed consent. You know, just that you agree with this and that I’m allowed to write some stuff down. It won’t go in an official file or anything, it just means I can keep some notes so I don’t forget everything by the time you come in next.” She spoke softly, pulling something out of her bag. Mia straightened out the sheet a little before leaning over the coffee table and placing it down with a pen on top.

Harry stared at it with little interest for a bit until he leaned forward too, took the small pen in his huge hand and lazily scribbled his signature without even taking a look at the words on it. He leaned back on the couch with a sigh so deep it seemed like putting his signature down was the hardest thing he’d ever had to do.

“So, I think we should start fresh.” Mia forced him a smile after she put the consent form away ,and got up, extending her hand, “I’m Mia.”

Harry arched up an eyebrow, unimpressed as she stood in front of him. His eyes dragged up her form once and Mia could feel herself shrinking while trying to keep her extended hand steady. He eventually shook it with little enthusiasm, “Harry.” He sighed.

Mia couldn’t help but smile brightly when he seemed to cooperate finally, but Harry’s eyes were cast down rather quickly. The cool metal of his rings contrasted with his warm skin when they shook hands, but he dropped his hand with little enthusiasm the second it was polite to do so.

“Okay.” She kept smiling while sitting back down on her couch, feeling as if they could move on from this awkward first greeting and finally get somewhere. She tucked a short loose strand of brown hair behind her ear that had come loose from the braid in the course of the day and nibbled her lip, staring down at the file on her lap.

"Are you comfortable here? Not too cold? I turned the heating on a little but let’s be honest, the weather has been less than a treat lately. I for sure didn’t expect to wake up to snow this morning. Although it was a nice surprise because it’s so pretty, it’s not that fun if you need to get places.” Mia started her small-talk, which was her usual way to get her clients to feel comfortable and open up.

Harry exhaled a bored breath and just nodded, more to himself than to her. Mia pressed her lips together when she realised this wasn’t really Harry’s cup of tea, her just chattering. Maybe he didn’t need it. 

“Have you ever gone to therapy before?”

“No.”

She nodded, opening up her notebook and scribbling something down, “And – uh, philosophy, hm? What year are you in?”

He put his chin on his hand while resting his elbow on the armrest, staring at her with an unimpressed look yet it still made Mia squirm inside. His eyes were quite intense and a very beautiful shade of green. She didn’t think she had ever come across someone with such striking eyes, or who’s eyes just stood out to her like that.

Mia found herself hoping he’d start talking soon so she could take the time to really look at him. She could listen to his deep, slow voice without paying much attention and let her eyes curiously trail over him for a moment. Right now, Mia felt like she couldn’t because he was watching her like a hawk and she felt a little shy under his gaze.

“Mostly in my second.” He shortly answered and Mia nodded, writing again to keep herself occupied, “Mostly?”

He shrugged, “Fucked up a little last year, have to retake a few subjects.” He answered and Mia found herself tensing up at the curse word he let slip just as casually as Hazel did. 

“So you’re nineteen?” Mia had stopped writing and now simply drew shapes of eyes in the by-line of her notebook, subconsciously trying to mimic him. Harry exhaled again, “No, twenty.”

Mia curiously lifted her head, unable to keep the small frown from etching into her forehead. She parted her lips to ask the obvious follow-up question but Harry beat her to it with a small roll of those green eyes, as if he was already sick of hearing that same question, “I doubled a year in high school.”

“Oh.” She nodded, dropping her eyes again as Harry did the same. The room fell silent once more and Mia realised only six minutes had passed since she walked in. She mindlessly clicked her pen a few times until hearing a clearing of Harry’s throat. Mia’s eyes flicked to his, her cheeks pinking up a little as he shot her a slight glare. She put her pen down, “Sorry.”

Harry didn’t say anything but looked very much done with being in this room. His knee bobbed a little, sneaker-clad feet constantly shifting positions as he sat restless. 

Mia usually refrained from looking into the file too much. She found she rather heard from the people themselves what they were here for, telling their story. Most of them didn’t mind telling her as she apparently was someone to be trusted rather easily. She had never come across a student as hard to crack as the boy in front of her.

But now, in this silence, she noticed her fingers inching towards the folder and she eventually took it in her lap again and opened it up. She saw his global information, such as his name and his date of birth.

An Aquarius.

Mia’s eyes darted over the paper and she nodded to herself, until she tensed up and her eyes widened upon seeing what he was in for. She couldn’t stop herself when her mouth gaped and she gasped, before lifting her head with struck eyes.

Harry didn’t even notice, too occupied with the stuffing of the couch again as he lazed in the chair until the hour passed by.

“You…” Mia croaked out, still dumbstruck with the newly found information. Her eyes dropped to the paper again as if to read it once more to check if she was actually correct and that her eyes weren’t deceiving her, “You really did this?”

“So far for not judging.” Harry huffed and Mia swallowed, “No – but… seriously?”

Harry didn’t say anything but didn’t look amused with her reaction. Mia drew a breath, “You had… intercourse with someone in the library and broke a bookcase?”

“Mhm.” He mumbled.

Mia read over the words one more time until she glanced at him, “Why?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to her, “Why? What do you mean, why? Because I fucking felt like it, of course. I was horny and it was empty. Is it my fault those fucking book cases are ancient as fuck and can’t take some weight on them?!” He bit.

Mia felt a bit taken aback by the sudden volume of his voice, staring as his fingers now angrily picked at the rip in the armrest while grumbling something under his breath. After another moment of silence in which Mia felt like she simply had no idea how to even respond to that, Harry sighed out, “It’s not that weird, people do it all the time. As if you’ve never felt the urge and just did it wherever?” He continued.

Mia straightened up and pressed her lips together, feeling herself turn pink again. It was a common thing whenever a client turned a question around on her. She didn’t like answering questions during these sessions, she liked asking them. It was basically the only thing Mia felt like she enjoyed about being a therapist. Her entire life, she had never really been listened to, and she didn’t feel a particular need to talk now either. But she enjoyed listening.

She enjoyed finding out how people’s minds worked, how their brains were wired, and how they processed. 

She avoided Harry’s question specifically, because the fact that she was a virgin did not need to be discussed here, nor did she want him to find out. She just cast her eyes down, reading over the words just one more time to make sure she wasn’t dreaming.

But no. Harry did have intercourse in the school library during a quiet moment of the day, but in the act he and the person he was doing it with, knocked over a smaller bookcase that did have some value to it. The school board was furious and wanted him to pay for the book case that he broke.

Harry apparently opted for therapy instead.

It seemed to be a decision he now regretted as he hung in the couch with his breaths even and his face looking like he had just received the world’s most awful news. It was quite clear to Mia that he’d rather be anywhere but here.

Mia felt like she had to gather herself and keep the conversation going, “S-So does your girlfriend have to get therapy too?”

“Girlfriend?” Harry chuckled at that, but in quite a menacing way as he shook his head, “She’s not my girlfriend.” He rolled his eyes, “She fucking bolted the moment that book case fell and she was out before the guard caught me. ‘M not gonna rat her out, I’m not a complete dick.” 

Mia was absolutely baffled by the way he spoke so casually with so many bad words in his regular vocabulary. She shifted a little and nodded, as if the idea of casual sex wasn’t completely foreign to her. She resorted to writing down a bit more while racking her brain for the next question or something that could steer this conversation back to where she wanted it to go.

“How old are you anyway?” Harry broke the silence this time. Mia lifted her head with raised brows, immediately a tad bit intimidated by the attention being on her again. She fiddled with the sleeve of her sweater, “I’m eighteen.”

“Holy fuck.” Harry sighed desperately while dropping his head back into the couch, showing off his throat and all the veins running there – which Mia tried very hard to keep her eyes away from. “What the fuck am I doing here.” Harry whined more so to himself than to her.

Mia tried not to feel too hurt by his statement. She was aware that not all people truly enjoyed therapy or that they were made for it. But she had also learned that after a few minutes or at most after one session, she had swayed them and they actually looked forward to coming back.

Never had someone expressed such displeasure in spending one hour in a room with her. It made an uncomfortable tingly sensation run through her skin and her throat dried out just a little bit as she forced a small smile his way when he lifted his head again.

“S-So – uh, why don’t you just tell me the story of what happened?” Mia tried to shift it back to Harry, to have him speak a little more instead of just answering with ‘yes’, ‘no’ or a shrug of his shoulders. Harry rolled his eyes again, and Mia frowned to herself. Did he really think she couldn’t see it when he did that? Did he not realise how rude it was to just roll your eyes at someone like that?

“Look – Mia, was it, right?” He started in a breath and Mia softly nodded, “Yes.”

Harry cleared his throat, “You seem like a nice girl, but frankly – you look like you belong in church. I never meant for my fucking sex life to be a topic of discussion with a fellow student who’s younger than me. As if you’re supposed to give me advice or some shit?” He exclaimed, clearly frustrated. He chewed his lip, ready to spew more venom at Mia who shrunk just a little on the couch. She hoped professor Dillon was following along and was ready to intervene instead of letting her suffer like this.

“I can’t pay for that bookcase, it’s like four grand – so yes, I chose this therapy thing instead. Not all of us have the privilege of just doing some volunteer work without getting paid for it. Some of us actually do need money.” He bit. 

Mia straightened up, a tight lump in her throat that she hadn’t expected just settled there. Rock hard, not wanting to move no matter how hard she tried or swallowed. She looked down to her lap, eyes blurring ever so slightly as she tried to breathe properly and remember her anxiety exercises.

Now would be a really good time for professor Dillon to come save her. 

---------

Professor Dillon didn’t come save her.

It was about forty minutes later and Mia had arrived home in the warmth of the apartment she shared with Hazel. She kicked the remainder of the snow off of her boots and then neatly put them next to the door to dry before padding her way into the space. Some lights were on and the door to Hazel’s room was on a small crack.

After nervously playing with the end of her braid for a bit, Mia thought she’d go in. She had contemplated it the entire way over, if she should bother Hazel with this.

Mia knew there was patient confidentiality, but she also knew the entire campus usually knew whenever someone had done something that earned them school mandated therapy. Mia was probably the only one who hadn’t heard about Harry’s library-escapades before today, because she didn’t speak to a lot of people and zoned out most of the time during the breaks.

Her knuckles gently came down on Hazel’s door and she could hear some music coming from inside.

“Come in!” Hazel called out and Mia nudged the door open, seeing Hazel up in her floral pink bedsheets and her laptop on her lap, a bag of chips next to her. She immediately frowned upon taking one look at Mia, “What happened?” She questioned urgently.

Mia’s shoulders deflated a bit and she let out a rugged sigh, that lump back in her throat, “I don’t – nothing.” She settled on, a sigh leaving her as she remembered how her and Harry had just been left in silence until he mumbled something under his breath and bolted out of the door.

She didn’t sign off on his session, so it didn’t even technically count as one. Afterwards, she had gotten scolded for it by professor Dillon. He hadn’t followed the session along so he had no idea what had been said, all he knew was that Harry left after about fifteen minutes instead of an hour, and that he had looked even angrier when leaving then when entering.

Mia stood small in front of professor Dillon, her arms protectively crossed in front of herself – even if it was a stance that her parents disapproved of because it was impolite – while he reprimanded her. It was quite familiar to Mia, she felt like she had been reprimanded her entire life.

Her parents had never been too liberal with their compliments, which is why praise from anyone – including Hazel – made her beam so much.

“Hey, Mia, come on.” Hazel frowned in worry and Mia shrugged, “Just – uh, a bad therapy session. Well, m-my first bad therapy session. I was just starting to think that I might be good at it but this… this guy showed up a-and I just didn’t get anywhere and I completely choked up.” Mia started rambling, her voice jumping a little as her words followed one another quickly. She looked anywhere but at Hazel as she was one big ball of worry now.

Her grades weren’t the best and that volunteer therapy thing she did was really just to get her a little extra credit. If she failed that too, Mia was sure she’d have to redo her year and the look on her parents face if she had to give them that news, was something she’d rather avoid.

Hazel shot her sympathetic eyes, “Babe, hey… Not all people open up as easily, you know that. And also, you’ve just started this thing! It doesn’t mean you’re a shit therapist or that you’ve chosen the wrong degree, you just need more experience. I’m sure it won’t be your last client behaving like that… some people are just not meant for therapy.”

“I know.” Mia murmured, keeping her eyes low until she sighed again, shifting from one foot to the other, “Can I just… climb in bed for a minute? And cry a little bit? I won’t make much noise.”

Hazel exhaled and nodded quicker than Mia had assumed. Her hand worked on opening up her blankets and Mia exhaled in relief when she slowly padded over, carefully climbing into Hazel’s pink bed. She snuggled a little into the free pillow, avoiding Hazel’s look on her as the first tears came running down.

She couldn’t believe she still had seven sessions left with Harry. Well – eight. Maybe he had changed his mind after all, rather digging into his savings to pay for the expensive book case he broke than spend more time with Mia.

A gentle stroke of Hazel’s fingers through her hair was what made Mia cry a little harder. The disappointment in herself was one thing, but the disappointment that her parents would feel when they found out about this – was another.

She had to turn this around, she couldn’t just fail this subject too. Mia couldn’t fail.

She just couldn’t. 

[cigarettesaftersae]

Homesick 02

Sae Itoshi - 02 Life is what happens when you're busy making other plans - John Lennon

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ Series: sae x f!reader | childhoodlovers!au

Stuck in a small town near the coast with a previous crush on a boy who returns after years

live laugh love life is strange🗣️imagine the camera is like max's because why not

After a small balanced breakfast, you head out the cafe to walk in the central park. Autumn colored leaves ravished the earthly ground, each step consist of crunches, and you fought the instinct to just stop and stare at everything gifted from Autumn to admire. You reached yourself to a bench, pulling out an old instant camera for scenery. You liked the vintage items, to swim in its own nostalgic aesthetic you’d seemed be fond of. The polaroid printed out embracing the trees and autumn leaves in view. The background painted the morning foggy blue sky, the lamps along the sideways warmly lit, and a squirrel eating nuts. That was your favorite thing in the photo, you smile softly looking at it and put it away in your bag for safety.

You were never an expert on cameras and photography, but you found it in the old treasure of your grandparents’ stash. Using it for these few weeks made life seem more admirable. You had an urge to take a physical copy of the moments you find unique. An instant click for an instant image of every pretty scenery you saw. You continue to take photos around the park, taking in the beauty of a moth on a tree. Its patterns looked perfectly so like the tree. The wooden bark similar to a fingerprint right onto the wings of a small life creature. Around the place, you thrill in its beauty by a single click here and there, ending up by the sea. It was quiet with seagulls croaking along the sky, the waves rushing within the gravel sand, beyond all that you notice a male on the edge of a cement floor behind some railings. He just sat there staring off to the ocean while the wind blew through his red hair strands. Wearing a long black trench coat, the material looked so well-done; was it by some expensive brand? Besides that, you took notice under was a white button shirt along with causal black pants. He seemed so simple yet elegant just alone existing. He looked almost familiar..

You grab out your camera to take a photo, the view shot was his side profile. You could notice every lock of his hair, the shape of his nose, mouth, and lips…and eyelashes? Very pretty long eyelashes..almost like that one boy. No…he disappeared…but his family was still around. Could this really be him? He was right there in front of you, not a distraction or interruption in sight but you walked away not wanting to take that chance.

Perhaps if you had, you could have learnt a nicer way to say your own name, even if he didn't know yours. You’ll just shatter your heart in every photo you click, swallow every sip of coffee bean, and shift your pillow closer to the moon. Follow this daily boring routine over and over.

—Yeah fuck no, never mind. Imagine if you say hi and he just looks at you and doesn’t even bother to say anything. A moment of silence and awkwardness just because you thought it could be that one boy you had a stupid crush on then disappeared and you also didn’t even go to the same school. Yeah fuck this.

You find yourself back to the place where you found him, he remained still lost in the vast ocean. In this serene, alone, and dull life, there had to be something. If this ends off embarrassing, you’ll be moving planets. Maybe Saturn. Or Mars.

“Usually I’m here sitting and relaxing, alone…”

Sae perks up his head at the voice,

…Was he seriously not going to say anything-

“I was here before you”

“I said usually, and I knew this place before you”

“I knew this place before you octopus, can you leave now?”

“You look like an octopus...” you mumble slightly pissed off. Now you extremely regret your decision of “trying” because all it resulted was you being insulted to an octopus. Octopus are cute.

Not even a word back, you worried if he heard you. Right now, he’s just staring at you as if he did hear you or thinking of something else to say so mean. No, he wouldn’t, anything mean would be blunt and on spot without a thought. How rude, an octopus seriously? You stared back into his teal eyes and took in every detail of the little spike of hair for his under eyelashes. It stood out so obviously yet so pretty. It was him.

“What are you staring at?” He said with a tone slightly harsh

“You’re stared first…What’s your name?”

“No” His beautiful teal orbs move away from you and back to the view of the ocean waves

What the flip.

“Well you been here long enough can you move? you’re ruining a great photo opportunity.”

“Not my problem”

“What if I just.. told Maria on you?” You almost studder on your words, slightly afraid to threaten him with such a childish manner

‘Maria?” His attention back to you, looks like that worked.

“Yeah…Maria..she’s like my secondary mother.”

“tsk..whatever.” Sae finally got up and walked mid-way before stopping and looking over his shoulder .

“Itoshi”

“huh..?”

“My name, octopus. Itoshi Sae.”

“Do you just like octopus a lot?”

He glared at you not a word back, waiting for something—

“Oh- ...My name is y/n.”

You turn around to face the coast slightly smiling, Sae began to walk away judging on the sound of his footsteps fading away into the Autumn breeze.

—

note:

.

.

.

this is kinda short i'll probaly make another one soon

[annie-of-the-arts]

[id: Three drawings of characters from all saints street. First is an artwork of Neil and Lily. Both look similar to their canon appearances, however have some slight changes to fit the artist's artstyle. Lily is plus-sized, wearing a red and white striped shirt that shows her shoulders, and is tucked into jeans with a belt. she has red accsesories. Neil looks near identical, but he has a devil tail, and its face looks more goat like; her nose is brown, with a line connecting to his mouth, and they have goat eyes. additionally, her ears are bigger. Xe's wearing a blue, short-sleeved hoodie and brown pants. In the drawing, Neil and Lily are close together. Both of them have one hand on the other's hip, while holding each other's hands. Lily is smiling, looking happily at Neil, while Neil looks to the side, shy. Neil's tail is curled, halfway in the shape of a heart. Second artwork is of Neil. Neil looks the same as previously described, the only difference being that he has eczema and soft red nails, likely done by Lily. He's excitedly pointing to a silly drawing of him and Lily kissing, which he's holding up. A large blush is on his face as he stares wide eyed, mouth open as if exclaiming something. The silly drawing also includes Lily with her eyes comically open. Third art is of Nick. Her appearance hasn't changed much, except for having a hooked nose, more prominent stubble, and her skin being darker and more natural. The first drawing is of Nick from a side profile, smiling whilst looking down a bit. The second is of Nick looking surprised, smiling still while wearing a black blazer and blue button up. End image description]

older drawings of some all saints street characters that i still really like :-]

[reblogs > likes | reblogs are greatly appriciated, please reblog!!]

[depravitycentral]

Yandere! Phinks Magcub General Profile

Yandere! Phinks Magcub x fem! reader

Tw: kidnapping, violence, Phinks slaps you, mentions of murder, mentions of non-con, mentions of masturbation, possessiveness, Phinks has anger issues, mentions of stalking, fem! reader, MDNI

I do not condone any of the actions described in this post - this is fiction and should be treated as such. If you or a loved one is in a similar situation to anything contained in this post or my blog in general, please seek help. You're in charge of your internet consumption; please make responsible choices. With that, enjoy! 

DARLING PROFILE:

Friendly

In general, Phinks is not a soft man. He’s a hard edged criminal, finding his thrills in beating others and theft. There is no part of him that’s sweet –  in fact, he’d say that would almost be an insult.

And yet, there’s something weirdly alluring about a darling who is; someone who’s genuine, kind, and social. Phinks isn’t that much of a talker, but there’s something about just being genuinely friendly and open to other people that he finds incredibly cute. Naïve, yes, but adorable nonetheless.

It’s endearing to see his darling so freely chatting and interacting with those around them, making them smile and laugh and feel comfortable. It’s endearing, until suddenly it isn’t – once his obsession with them forms, Phinks is honestly hating this side of his beloved’s personality.

Of course, it’s overwhelmingly cute and only further shows just how soft and sweet and opposite his darling is compared to him, but once his possessiveness forms it’s a bit of a death sentence for anyone his darling decides to smile at, to give a random compliment, to do anything.

He wants no one taking his darling’s time, no one getting the opportunity to bask in the warmth and loveliness that is his sweet, precious darling. All of that is reserved solely for him, and he’ll be damned if he has to share.

So while this his darling’s friendliness is initially part of what attracts him, it also helps drive forward many of Phinks’s more troubling tendencies – he’s so possessive if only because his darling talks to so many strangers, and at the end of the day, isn’t it really just their fault? For being so damn sweet?

Playful

Despite being one of the most dangerous criminals in the world, it’s incredibly easy to fluster Phinks. He’s not particularly smooth with women, and so a darling that is quick on their feet is a perfect match for him.

He likes the idea of his darling being able to keep up with him, always knowing what to say to get him at a loss for words, their quick tongue making him bashful and struggle for words. It’s embarrassing to look so foolish when he’s blubbering and unsure of how to respond when they wink at him and tell him he’s looking handsome today, but he'd be lying if he said he doesn’t fucking love it, his ego multiplying tenfold with every compliment that slips past his darling’s lips.

He likes the idea of his darling being chipper and happy, if only because Phinks himself is easily swayed by his emotions, and having a positive darling helps him stay calmer and more in control.

Besides, as his obsession grows, so do his fantasies – he’s got this daydream of his darling cooking with him, all domestic bliss while they move around the kitchen and he sits at the dining table watching, with they sending him looks and throw jokes over their shoulder. He wants them to boop his nose with a bit of sauce or flour, then kiss it clean, winking at them and watching his face go bright red as he clears his throat and tries to recover.

It’s lame, he thinks, to be so vulnerable, but he can’t deny the way his heart races when he thinks of it, how he gets all warm and gooey on the inside like some lovesick teenage boy.

A playful darling would be a good fit, and Phinks is smitten as soon as he sees this side of them.

Patient

Because Phinks has issues regulating his emotions, having a darling who is more steady and consistent is a good match for him. He needs someone who is able to calm him down, to stop him from exploding and raging at the slightest inconvenience, and as time passes Phinks slowly begins seeing his darling as his rock.

He turns to them for emotional support more often than he would like to admit, and as soon as he feels rage swimming in his veins he’s desperately running to them, because even just seeing them calms him down, the anger replaced by fondness, love, yearning.

He becomes dependent on them from a very early stage, their presence being the only thing to make him feel normal, sane, calm, and he quickly grows addicted to the feeling.

His darling is like his own personal drug, and really, how can Phinks be expected to not chase down this feeling, to not snatch his darling up all for himself? He’s a selfish man, and he has his needs – he’s just lucky that his darling, with all their patience and ability to calm him, fulfill more than just one of his needs.

Many more.

Competitive

This one isn’t absolutely necessary for Phinks, but a more competitive darling is a significant turn-on for him. He likes a darling who isn’t completely meek; he wants them to be a bit of a spitfire, and while he doesn’t want them to be too competitive, he likes that his darling doesn’t just simply roll over and submit to those around them.

It’s attractive to see the way they get this glint in their eye, a desire to win rolling through them, and frankly, when Phinks sees his darling acting this way, he has to shift his pants a bit, discreetly trying to hide the way they’re getting just a bit too tight.

He likes this about his darling, but when it comes to him, Phinks doesn’t particularly like this trait. When he’s trying to take care of them, to protect them, he wants his darling to give into everything he says, to obey him without question.

He’s just trying to help them, and if his darling grows stubborn and decides to be a brat, he struggles to remain calm and rational, to not lash out and tell them to shut the fuck up and get into the bed, you have to sleep.

He wants his darling to keep this fiery personality trait, but to regulate it so that they aren’t super competitive with him – maybe playfully, sure, but not to the point where it throws a wrench in the relationship.

After all, he wants your relationship to normal, perfect, healthy, and if his darling is constantly fighting him, how can it be any of these things? Can’t they at least try and make it work, just like Phinks is? Can’t they see how frantically he’s trying?

GENERAL YANDERE TRAITS:

Lucid

Despite not exactly being the most romantic man alive, Phinks has enough knowledge about relationships to know that the way he feels for you is far from normal.

He’s very aware that you probably wouldn’t appreciate how his every thought revolves around you, how he’s constantly wondering what you’re doing, who you’re with, how you’re feeling, if you’re thinking about him…

He knows the obsession he’s harboring over you is wrong, that he’s a creep and a perverted, sick freak for tracking your whereabouts, for killing any man that comes close to you, for loving you in such an uncontrolled, passionate way, and while he wants to stop himself, to halt the feelings his has for you and lose the intense fascination and desire he feels for you, Phinks just can’t – both in reality and in principle. His feelings for you are too great, too intense and overwhelming and wonderful for him to ever be able to dispel of. He'll quickly come to the conclusion that he’ll always be in love with you, regardless of what happens, and regardless of how long he lives.

There’s just no way to lose interest in the person he honestly believes is his soulmate, the person he’d give anything and everything for. He quickly  gives up trying, because it only hurts his heart, only makes him more and more desperate for you.

And of course, there’s also the more selfish side of him that loves having someone to love, someone to care for and want to protect at all costs. You’re one of the only people in his life that Phinks actually gives a damn about, that he wants to see safe and smiling and free from every single curse this world can dole out, and so the mere concept of losing you, of trying to forget you and move on causes his heart to physically hurt.

You’re so important to him, the main reason why he’s still living (aside from the Troupe, of course), and while it eats him alive from the guilt, Phinks slowly begins rationalizing his obsession and need for you as simply wanting to give you the amount of love and care that you deserve. He wants to be a good partner for you, for you to always be satisfied and want for nothing because of him, and one of the ways in which he shows this is to absolutely spoil you.

He’s never been the best at soft, gushy feelings, but the warmth that brews in his heart when he picks up the bouquet of red roses, of soft baby blue buttercups, of white tulips, he can’t help but smile softly and feel his cheeks heating up, because you deserve every fucking flower in the world, and even then they wouldn’t be enough to compare to your beauty.

When he picks out the necklace he’d like to steal for you (he won’t tell you it’s stolen of course, but you’ll quickly come to realize the exact nature of his profession), his heart hammers in his chest at the thought of you wearing it, of you loving it and proudly telling him and the world that Phinks owns you, that he treats you so well, and that he gives you everything you could ever want.

He spoils you beyond belief, hoping that the gifts will make up for his all of his violent, overbearing, wrong tendencies. He hopes it’ll work, and for the most part it helps ease his mind – so if you’re somehow who doesn’t like getting gifts or being so indebted, get used to it.

Phinks wants to give you the world, and with his skills in the ways of procuring valuables, he’s readily prepared to give it to you. Anything for you.

Possessive

In Phinks’s mind, you are completely and utterly his.

He still has enough lucidity about his feelings to recognize that you’re your own person, but only to a certain extent – yes, you have your own feelings and thoughts, but every part of you belongs to him. Your mind, such a pretty and entertaining thing to him, is owned by Phinks Magcub himself, forced to bend to whatever he wants and dictates, just as it should be.

Your body (something he spends hours dreaming about, shaky fingers hovering over your curves for minutes at a time once he’s got you in front of him) is his property, for him to do whatever he pleases with.

He figures that because he does so much for you (all of the protection he provides you, the security and guarantee that no one will ever touch you), the least you could do is be willingly his, to give into his possessiveness and let him just completely own you.

He has a real problem with jealousy where you’re concerned; in his eyes, every single male on the planet is a rival for your love and affection, a possible deterrent from you realizing how Phinks himself is the only one you could ever be truly happy with or need. His automatic assumption for every man within a ten foot radius of you is that they want you, that they want to talk to you and smile at you and use you and touch you and fuck you –

His blood boils the second someone approaches you, regardless of their intent – your male friend stops by to ask about the newest assignment from your boss? Immediately Phinks is scowling, fists clenching at his sides, aura flaring up impossibly because why is this piece of shit staring at you like you’re some slab of fine meat?

When the man in the grocery store accidentally bumps into you after turning around, immediately Phinks is shaking with rage, angry that this man thinks he can just touch you like you’re some commoner, like you aren’t the literal reason for his very existence.

 It’s unhealthy to be so controlling and obsessive over making sure that you stay his, and for the most part Phinks knows this – he knows that he really shouldn’t have a say in who you hang out with, who you think of and where your gaze falls as you sit on the subway car to work, but he just can’t help it.

You’re all he thinks about, all he cares about, the only thing besides killing and the Troupe that gets him up in the morning; it’s the promise of making sure that you’re safe, of making sure that nothing ever gets between the two of you that gives him the drive to function.

Of course, while the swirling mix of rage and utter desperation for you is never ending in his gut, he’s more than aware that in order to really have you, in order to get you to actually love him back and not be terrified of his every move, he can’t be nearly as obvious as he wants to be about his infatuation with you.

He wants nothing more than to sock every man in the face who so much as glances at you, to leave them bloodied, bruised and thrust to death in the most painful ways, all with you watching and seeing just how far Phinks is willing to go to prove his love to you. But he knows that if you saw that you’d only cower away from him, terrified of what he could do to you if he was able to destroy so many men larger, stronger and more knowledgeable about combat than you.

And really, fear is the last thing Phinks wants you to harbor for him – he craves a normal relationship with you, to have all of the overplayed, cliché romance Hallmark movie moments with you. So while the urge to just grab you and keep you away from everything and everyone, to keep you completely and utterly his is nearly too overwhelming to ignore, Phinks holds out.

For you.

Because he knows it’ll only push you away, and Phinks isn’t kidding when he says he would literally die without you – you’re a drug to him, and he’s a greedy man.  He isn’t willing to share his supply of happiness with anyone else, no matter how you beg and plead with him. He’s stubborn, so it’s really in your best interest to just submit to your fate and let him hold you in his lap, hands awkwardly set at your sides and palpably clammy.

Just let him do what he wants, because in the end he’ll always get what he wants.

Protective

While he’s by no means a gentle man, there’s something about you that makes him pale at the idea of being rough. Maybe it’s because you’re just so weak compared to him, so soft and sweet and nice, but he can’t stomach the idea of letting other people hurt you.

He’s more than aware that the world is full of horrible, blood thirsty criminals who kill at the snap of a finger (hell, he’s one of them, he would know), and in the context of your safety, Phinks can’t help but imagine all the worst case scenarios. He can’t help but imagine any number of them getting their hands on you, of any of them deciding that you’d be a quick, fun kill. He can vividly see in his mind you being snatched off the street, gagged and bound at the wrists while some psychopath makes you cry and scream, your pretty blood staining your skin and the life draining from your eyes.

The idea of you being hurt, tortured, raped, killed or any number of other horrible things is genuinely something that gives him nightmares. There’s this cold, sinking feeling in his gut that forces him up and out of bed, racing towards your home when he awakes from these dreams, his lungs burning as he runs faster than he ever has.

He’s picking at your lock with trembling fingers, slipping inside and hurriedly rushing to your room, eyes darting around wildly to make sure that you’re still breathing, that your body is all in on piece, that you aren’t bleeding and sobbing and broken.

He’s only able to take a deep, steadying breath when he sees you safe and sound asleep, your chest rising and falling steadily while your eyes dart around under their eyelids.

It’s a calming sight, one that immediately makes his heart stutter, his cheeks heating up because god, how can you be so beautiful without even trying? He has to grab onto the corner of your drawers to steady himself and keep from sinking to his knees in relief, and sometimes even a tear or two will trickle down his cheek if the nightmare was particularly graphic.

You dream of strange men that night, fingers gripping onto your hand with a force that makes you wince, your palm clammy and aching when you wake up in the morning.

He’s paranoid about your safety, absolutely convinced that without him around you’d be nothing more than a pile of bones rotting in some monster’s basement or left to die in some ditch in the country side. He’s not used to caring so intensely about someone, and he’s quite honestly blindsided by the enormity of his feelings, of how the compulsive need to be checking up on you every minute of the day hits him so hard at the most random moments.

He’s irritated in a way, at how you seem to draw so much emotion out of him without even trying, but Phinks could never, ever be mad at you about it – after all, while it’s overwhelming and scary just how much he cares for you, he wouldn’t trade the way you make him feel for the world. You’re so warm and soft, and you make Phinks so fucking happy.

Just being around you is enough to give him a massive serotonin boost, a smile that doesn’t leave his face all day no matter how hard he tries (the blush is present too, and Feitan is constantly teasing him, always telling him how he’s such a sappy little schoolgirl, did you write about her in your diary?, only to be punched halfway across the room and still snicker). He’s giddy, truly, even if you so much as glance in his direction or give him some half-hearted smile. In general Phinks can’t express enough how grateful he is to have someone like you in his life, such a beacon of happiness and joy for someone as misguided and undeserving as himself.

It’s only natural, then, to want to keep his source of love and devotion and obsession safe, to make sure that nothing will ever touch you or harm your perfect body, your pretty skin.

He isn’t exactly subtle about his protectiveness over you either – you’ll realize very quickly that he thinks of you as a glass doll, with the way he’s always hovering at your side, moving you closer to him anytime another man passes, eyes raking over your frame at constant fifteen minute intervals to check for bruises or cuts.

(And, though you don’t know it, the way that Phinks rummages through your things and makes sure that every blade in your home is dulled, that your stove can’t go any higher than a medium setting, that your locks are all the highest quality grade, it makes his obsession over making sure you don’t ever get hurt more than apparent).

It’s a curse he doesn’t mind undergoing, if only because he honestly views you as needing him, requiring his protection to live your life.

He’s not exactly sure how you managed to survive as long as you did without him, but now that he has you in his sights, so obviously needing him and being desperate for a big, strong man like him to make sure that you can have the easiest life you can, Phinks will make sure that he lives up to your each and every expectation of him.

After all, your opinion means everything, and just seeing your smile and hearing your laugh is enough to have Phinks proud, knowing that he’s fulfilling his role, that he’s keeping you safe and happy and his.

DEALING WITH RIVALS:

Jealousy is something that gets the better of Phinks much more often than he’d like to admit. He’s so possessive, so hellbent on making sure that you stay his and that no one else even so much as looks at you, that it leads to him interpreting interest from other guys way more often than what’s really true.

You’re absolutely perfect to Phinks, a literal human embodiment of everything he could want in a partner, both good and bad. And because of this, he’s so convinced that everyone else would be just as in love with you, just as desperate to make you theirs and keep you with them as he is, so isn’t it his job to make sure that that can’t happen?

Everyone is a threat to the relationship he’s so desperate to have and build with you, and Phinks will stop at absolutely nothing to make sure that nothing could ever possibly separate the two of you. His desperation is honestly a bit pathetic, to the point where many of the members of the troupe honestly take pity on him, thinking it’s sad to see their fellow comrade so helplessly obsessed with a sweet, innocent woman.

Jealousy consumes him, to the point where all he’s seeing is red, panic lacing at his chest because what if you decide that man who’s chatting with you and making you laugh is better than Phinks?

What if you decide that you’d rather be with the waiter at that restaurant you love – the one who always jokes around with you because you’re such a regular customer?

Phinks isn’t the most insecure man around, but when it comes to you and the question of your relationship, suddenly he feels like a teenage boy again; awkward in his own skin, terrified that the girl of his dreams thinks that he’s too violent, too ugly, too boring and mean.

And while he knows rationally that you don’t think these things, how can he help it when he’s watching from a few dozen yard away as you laugh and thank the man in the supermarket who helped you get the can of food at the very top shelf?

How can he help it when he sees you being so nice to others, being so kind and generous and friendly, only to have them turn around and exploit you for every ounce of kindness in your bones?

It makes him angry, beyond enraged to think of how others could be hurting you, how they could be trying to steal you away, wanting to beat you or kill you or rape you or any number of things – and so, Phinks must make sure that you stay safe, that there’s absolutely no chance on you ever being alone with another man. He has to keep your wellbeing in tact, and, of course, keep you completely his and his alone.

Because he feels so strongly when he sees that man approach you on the street corner and ask you in you know where the nearest bank is, Phinks has trouble holding himself back.

You’re kind to the man, blinking up at him and scrunching your brows in thought, trying to answer his question as he patiently stands beside you, a small smile on his face. Phinks is pissed – how dare this piece of shit, this worthless nobody approach you like that? How dare they start a conversation with you, stare at you, get to bask in your presence when only Phinks himself should be getting that pleasure?

His fists are clenched at his side, jaw set so tightly he almost fears his teeth might crack. His eyes are narrowed in on the both of you, his mind desperately telling him to stop, don’t do it, don’t do it Phinks she’ll just get scared and then you’ll make backwards progress – and it works, to a certain degree, up until the final straw as the man chats with you.

His hand, placed on your shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze as he smiles down at you, leaning forward ever so slightly for what Phinks is absolutely positive is a glance down your shirt. Suddenly he isn’t just seeing red anymore – he’s seeing scarlet, the bloodlust oozing out of him enough to propel him forward, his face the epitome of rage as he cocks his fist, landing a hard punch against the man’s jaw, hearing a sickening crunch accompanied by the man’s screams.

He’s on the ground in a second, Phinks straddled above him, fists flying as he beats him to a pulp, the rage never ending as he thinks of all the terrible, horrible things that he’d likely been imagining with you, that he’d been aiming to try with you, all while Phinks was right fucking there (or, a good fifty away, but still). He’s growling out curses and spitting on the man, telling him that he’s just a stupid piece of shit, you’re fucking disgusting, you perverted bastard, trying to cop a feel and sneak a peek.

You’re left to watch, shocked beyond belief and too frozen to move as you watch Phinks slowly pull more blood from the man, his body already bruising and twitching as desperate sobs out what you can only assume are pleas to stop escape the victim’s throat. And yet, you can hear perfectly what Phinks is saying, some more distinctly than others – don’t fucking touch her, she’s mine do you understand? I own her, she’s mine, mine mine mine and no one gets to touch her, to look at her, to think about her, certainly not digusting wastes of space like you!

Your jaw is dropped, still too scared to move as you register his words, wondering who this ‘she’ was, if he possibly meant you…?

Phinks doesn’t stop until the man is disfigured beyond recognition, his face smashed in on itself from the beating of his fists, blood staining the pavement under his head, though the frantic rise and fall of his chest and the small pathetic, pained whimpers tell him that he’s still alive.

But at the sudden sound of you sharply gasping and stumbling backwards, trying to put space between yourself and the monster in front of you, suddenly Phinks’s eyes are widening, his head whipping around as he shoots to his feet, running over to you and caging his arms around you.

He pulls you flush against his chest, his heart beating wildly as he whispers frantic apologies in your ear, voice desperate as he tells you he’s so sorry, I don’t know what got into me – he was just touching you and his eyes were basically fucking you and I just – I can’t watch anyone do that to you. Please, you have to understand, tell me you understand!

And while you’re terrified, feeling some of the man’s blood rubbing off of Phinks and onto you, at the end of the day you’re more terrified of one day being in the man’s position, so you shakily nod, whispering that it’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it.

And as Phinks’s body relaxes, relief coursing through him, you can only stare into his chest, fear and hopelessness settling into your heart, because is this who he really is?

TAKING HIS DARLING AWAY:

Phinks really does want you to want him.

He’s so in love with you, so desperate for you to return his feelings that it physically hurts, and as a result he’s trying everything he possibly can to approach you normally, to not give away how obsessed he is over you, how badly he wants to just hold you in his arms and never let you go, never let another living soul see you besides him.

He knows his feelings for you are unhealthy, that it’s wrong that he thinks of you as a possession, that he wants to own you, but he just can’t help it. And yet, because of his commitment to wanting to keep your relationship as normal as possible, as happy as possible, Phinks knows that doing something rash like stealing you away really isn’t the best idea.

It’s tempting – tempting as hell, if he’s being honest, because just the idea of you and him living together in a little house bought specifically for the both of you, you waiting patiently for him every evening with a hot dinner on the stove and a big welcome home kiss is enough to have him gulping, a blush dusting his cheeks at the sheer domesticity of it all.

He loves the idea of keeping you dependent on him, of keeping you only by his side where he can keep you safe and make sure that you understand how much he loves you, but he can’t bring himself to actually do it.

He can’t bring himself to gently knock you out, to cover your pretty lips and nose with a chloroform soaked rag, to throw you over his shoulder and give your bum a firm pat, a grin spreading across his features as he thinks of the wonderful, perfect life the two of you are starting.

He can’t bring himself to do it, at least without some push from an outside factor. Phinks will likely try to pursue a friendship with you – he wants to be around you at all times, to have your trust in him build, to make you comfortable and hopefully give you the chance to fall in love with him as well, and because of this he’s able to sate his overwhelming desire for you.

However, try as he may, Phinks just can’t get rid of his possessiveness; even dialing it down to seem more normal and healthy leaves him with enough emphasis on making sure that you don’t talk to anyone else, that you spend all your time with him to raise a brow. And you’ll quickly notice this – he’s a friend, one that you’ve grown to enjoy spending your time with, but his random bouts of jealousy, of insecurity and clinginess are just too much.

The way he butts into your life, changing your schedule to revolve around his is just too overbearing, the signs of a toxic friendship that you know you shouldn’t turn a blind eye to.

And so, you do what makes the most sense – sit him down and tell him that you don’t think you can be friends anymore, that he’s too controlling, too possessive, that you think it would be best if we took some time away from each other, just to clear our heads.

And Phinks is panicking across from you – take a break? Split up? He knows you’re not together yet, but he can’t shake the distinct feeling of rejection, the anger and fear and distress that the idea of you being separated from him causes.

And so, on a bit of a hasty split second decision, Phinks is pressing the pressure point on your neck, catching your limp body in his arms as he takes ragged breaths, mind swimming in anger, excitement and nerves as he hauls you towards your new home, your new life with him.

As a captor, Phinks isn’t too terrible – he’s never been much of a homemaker, not really someone who’s used to taking care of anyone but himself, and while he tries (he tries so, so fucking hard) for you, he’s not especially great at it.

Of course, your health is still the priority in his eyes, something that he cares for more than his own life, and because of this he gets only the best foods, making sure to cater to your tastes and keep your diet a plentiful mix of protein, starch and vegetables, so that your body can stay healthy and strong.

He’s making sure that there’s nothing in the house you could hurt yourself with, keeping every knife and razor away from you, putting a childlock on the stove, not letting you near the freezer. He doesn’t mean to be patronizing, but as he becomes paranoid about your safety and wellbeing, slowly he begins thinking of you as less and less capable, needing more of his help and guidance to do basic things.

He likes to bathe you (though he’ll never force you into it, only ever harboring it as a fantasy until you make it reality), to help dress you (when your body is sore from a night of intense, passionate fucking, he’s more than willing to help slip on one of his oversized shirts, loving the way it pools around your frame), to even help feed you when he’s in an especially loving mood.

But for the most part, Phinks isn’t too touchy with you. He still genuinely wants you to love him, to want to be with him and maybe even enjoy your time under his roof, and in all honesty he’s nursing the dream that one day you’ll turn to him unprompted, completely honest as you cuddle up against him and tell him in the sweetest voice he’s ever heard that you love him, that you’re so happy he’s with you, that you’d never, ever want to leave him.

And because he wants so badly for you to genuinely develop feelings for him, Phinks tries everything that he can to woo you – he’s not great with romance, has little to no experience, but he’s willing to do anything and everything if there’s even the slightest chance that it’ll make you smile at him, that you’ll look at him in anything other than fear, betrayal and apathy.

He begins watching rom-coms religiously, noting the various courting methods, how the male lead always seems to get the love interest laughing, smiling and telling them how funny they are. So, he tries to make jokes around you, hoping to get you to laugh and compliment him, and while you don’t particularly want to, sometimes they’re just so terrible and the look of hope in his eyes is just so heart wrenching that you can’t help but snort, chuckling lightly.

And to Phinks, just that step alone is enough to send him on a wild goose chase, doing everything he can to try and come up with other ways to make you see him in a more positive light. He’s scouring every resource he can – romance novels, online articles about attraction, relationship podcasts, everything and anything.

He even goes to the girls of the Troupe, asking with an embarrassed expression and rubbing the back of his neck if they have any advice on how to win a girl’s heart, something that they all react quite differently to.

Machi isn’t impressed – simply staring at him for a few moments and cocking her brow, before asking him why he thought that she would be a good person to ask – do I look like I’ve ever had a guy pining after me?

Pakunoda is more sympathetic, telling him to try the staples – buy her flowers from time to time, get her little gifts that you know she’ll like. Eventually it might add up over time to where she feels loved and cared for, and then she’ll be more willing to return your feelings.

But, surprisingly, Shizuku is actually the one that gives Phinks the best advice – hmm, well I think just being there for her is important. Ask about things she loves and get her in a happy mood, and just listen to her. Nod along and add a question or comment in every once in a while so she knows you’re listening, but just let her know that you’re genuinely invested in her.

Phinks takes the advice in stride, silently stewing on it before showing up at your shared ‘home’ the next day with a bouquet of lilies in your favorite color, a grocery bag full of your favorite snacks, and a nervous, carefully hopeful smile when he walks through the door.

And really, you know you shouldn’t think of him as anything but your captor, the man who stole you away and wants to keep you as his possession for the rest of your life, but there’s just something about the way he bites his lip as you go through the bag of candy, chips, junk food and snacks one by one.

There’s just something about the way he nearly trips over his own feet as you pat the seat on the sofa next to you expectantly.

There’s just something about the desperation with which he wants to please you, to make you happy and make you love him that will eventually get to you, no matter how hard you try to fight it. Because while it’s wrong and you know it, you’ve never felt this loved before, this desired and wanted, and it’s a strange sort of confidence and boost to your self-esteem, one that manages to warp your whole mental state into thinking that maybe you really do love Phinks, even if he’s a bit rough around the edges.

He spoils you, trying his best to give you every last piece of himself and his affection as he can, and eventually you’ll come to openly receive it, to fulfill his fantasy of you finally accepting him. Besides, there’s just something about the way he blushes and bounces his knee when you compliment him makes your heart melt, and when you tell him you love him, the way he looks so shocked, but so happy and soft and god, is he crying?

Phinks is desperate for you to return his feelings, for you to love him as he loves you, and he’ll stop at nothing to get you there.

PUNISHMENTS:

Phinks has a bit of a temper.

It’s something he’s always been aware of, and for the most part he couldn’t care less – he’s a thief, someone who gets what they want, and if he gets angry in the process, that just means a few more necks to break. He’s used to acting out on his anger, to mercilessly beating and killing those who make him mad, and in a lot of ways it’s simply autopilot to him.

But where you’re concerned, Phinks is absolutely the opposite. He’s terrified of hurting you, of somehow leaving marks of violence on your pretty, soft skin, and for the most part he manages to succeed in not lashing out against you, in not blemishing you in any way. He loves you, and the last thing he wants to do is abuse you, to punch you and kick you and take out every bit of his anger on you, so instead he tries to focus the rage elsewhere.

The desire to just punch something is too great to ignore, and if it can’t be your face or body, the next closest thing is the wall beside him. It scares you and never fails to leave you gasping and shuddering in fear as he punches a hole through the drywall, the grimace of anger and pain turning his features into some monster-esque look, and as you slowly back away, hands covering your mouth and trying to put distance between the both of you, Phinks can only sigh.

He hates scaring you, but his anger gets triggered so easily that it’s something he can’t even hope to control, that he can’t even try to conceal. He gets quite good at fixing drywall, and for a long while it works out. He gets angry at you, punches a hole in the wall, spends a few minutes breathing deeply and muttering under his breath, before turning to you and telling you to not go near the kitchen knives again, do you hear me?

And for the most part, you’re scared into submission. You very vividly remember him beating the living shit out of any guy who so much as looked at you before he stole you away, and because of this you’re more than aware of just how strong he is, at just how talented he is at throwing punches and drawing blood.

Life with Phinks is really just a balancing act in a lot of ways – he wants to please you and make you happy, so as long as you smile and hug him, whisper sweet nothings in his ear and try to not to make him angry at you in any way, you’ll be just fine.

That being said, there are moments when Phinks loses control, when he lets his anger cloud his mind and overwhelm him, his natural habits of lashing out coming to the surface.

Punching the wall is fine and it’s something that he does mostly when it’s small things you do that trigger his anger, like turning the stove on, hopping into the shower without telling him, flinch away slightly when he goes to peck your forehead. But when it’s larger offenses, things that you do that genuinely make him rage, Phinks has a tendency to get a bit more violent, a bit more mindless in his actions.

When he tentatively reaches a hand out to run his callused fingers over your hair, his breath hitches when you softly smile, telling him in a faraway, dreamy voice that you had a friend who used to play with my hair, it was always my favorite. They were really good at it, too.

His whole body is freezing before suddenly shaking, his breathing ragged as he realizes that you’ve just brought another person up, that you’re thinking of someone else while he tries to be loving and intimate with you, and before he knows it he’s on his feet, pushing you against the wall and slamming your back into the hard expanse.

You gasp sharply, staring up at him with wide, fearful eyes while he glares down at you, his teeth grinding together as the swirling pool of jealousy builds greater and greater in his chest, his gut twisting painfully when he realizes that he’s not he only one on your mind, like you are for him.

Don’t you ever talk about anyone else when you’re with me, do you understand? He growls out, hanging his head low so that you can’t see his eyes. You’re terrified, every inch of you trembling in fear as his grip grows tighter on your shoulders.

Answer me!

His voice is loud, curt and terrifying, and as you squeak out a timid y-yes! I understand Phinks, I’m sorry, I didn’t meant to make you jealous, she was just a friend – but before you can finish your rambling, frantic apology, a sudden sharp noise and an overwhelming stinging sensation against your cheek has you whimpering, pain flaring up and making your eyes well with tears.

Phinks is breathing hard, his eyes wild as he stares down at you, his hand still raised as if to slap you again, but when you quietly start crying, the pain mixed with the fear and hopelessness of the situation, suddenly Phinks is snapping out of his rage fueled daze, his heart stopping in his chest as he sees you cowering in front of him, cradling your cheek with tears streaming down your face, your body trembling while you beg him to not hurt you again.

And the guilt the hits Phinks square in the chest has him gasping, stumbling away from you and clutching onto his head, self hatred and regret making him shed a few tears of his own, realization that he just hurt you spinning through his mind.

And before you even get to a chance to say or do anything, suddenly he’s racing out the front door, the locks snapping into place as you slowly sink to your knees, sobbing and letting the emotions wash over you.

Meanwhile, Phinks is wandering aimlessly through the city, not hesitating to mercilessly snap the neck of anyone who dares approach him or try to talk to him, all the while he desperately tries to come up with a solution to make it up to you, to apologize for being such a monster. And, when he returns home a few hours later to find you curled up on your bed, a plush blanket thrown over your figure, he can only gulp and lightly knock against the door, watching as you stiffen up and say nothing.

He sighs, hanging his head and stepping inside the room, placing the bags in his hands onto the bed.

I’m sorry, he starts, discomfort and shame coursing through him. I shouldn’t have hit you, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you, I shouldn’t have – look, I’m really sorry and I really, really regret it. You don’t have to forgive me, but I got some uh, some stuff while I was out… and as he gently motions the bags towards you, you slowly sight up, eyeing him wearily with puffy eyes as you paw at the bags.

You’re careful to open them, but when you see the packages of food, the jewelry case with a soft silver necklace sitting in it, you can’t help but feel a bit better, as materialistic as it is. And when you move to the next bag, you nearly cry – pictures and frames from your old home, little stuffed animals and knick knacks you’d cherished that were ripped away from you. your favorite books, a blanket, and countless other treasures that have you softly smiling, wiping at your eyes while Phinks watches with bated breath.

And when you finally look up at him, something in your chest feels warm, and immediately you know that you’re too far gone. Because when you look at Phinks, the man who stole you away, who keeps you locked up in his home, dependent on him and loses his anger when you talk about another soul, you only see an awkward, love struck man, who loves you more than life itself.

You know it’s Stockholm Syndrome at work, but as you softly whisper I forgive you, Phinks, you can’t find it in yourself to care. Not when the relief on his face is practically palpable, when he fiddles nervously with his fingers as you slowly get up and move to hug him. He gasps quietly, chocked by your affection, but quickly he’s clutching you against him, leaning down and breathing deeply next to your hair, letting your scent calm him as he basks in the feeling of holding you.

It’s wrong, but as time passes, you’ll slowly come to love Phinks – in a twisted, warped way, but isn’t all love just so wonderful?

OVERALL DANGER:

7/10

Phinks, despite being a violent, misguided man, is actually a rather tragic yandere – he’s so desperate for you to love him back, for you to hold even an ounce of the adoration and affection he feels for you, and he’s not at all subtle about it, no matter how he tries.

He wants to love you like a normal man, to give you a happy, loving life by his side, but he just can’t – his obsession is too strong, his possessiveness too overwhelming. He wants to keep you safe and happy, to keep you healthy and next to him, and he really does have good intentions for the most part – he’s awkward in love, nervous and anxious and wanting to constantly be around you.

He’s possessive to a fault, wanting to keep you utterly his and his alone, and in all honesty that’s what fuels the vast majority of his yandere tendencies – when he’s mercilessly attacking other men who might be construed as rivals for your love and affection, it’s the thought of keeping you by his side that’s guiding him.

When he’s gently knocking you out and slipping you into the new, queen sized mattress he’d stolen just for the two of you, it was all on the basis of making sure that you never stray from his side, that he can keep you close and safe and his for the rest of your lives.

He just wants you to love him back, and you honestly might – the desperation he feels for you is strong enough that you can almost physically feel it, the utter need and desire to just be loved by you pulling at your heartstrings and making you eventually decide that he isn’t too bad, that he could be much worse.

And really, Phinks will take anything he can get – he loves you, so much so that it physically hurts, and the second that you show him that the feeling is returned, he’s holding you in his arms, pressing you against him so tightly that you’ll never escape.

[xx-lemon-drop-xx]

Hi! Are u okay? I would like to request some hcs for Cater, Idia, Leona, Epel and Vil (separated) with a tomboy girlfriend who is friendly and kind to everyone – big sister vibes –, is especially sweet and affectionate to her boyfriend but can change from water to wine if you push her so far; Similar to the bully hcs, someone says something to her that really pisses her off and she throws her hands at the bully and what would be the boys reactions to this change in behavior.

I'm sorry if that's too specific! Sorry for any grammar mistakes, shout-out from Brazil <3

— 𝑴𝑒𝑙☾︎

Hello! I've been doing just fine, I hope you're doing okay as well! And thank you for the request I hope you'll be back for more!

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Warnings: Female reader, mentions of blood, pinching, slapping, slight insults/Threats (Leona and Idia's), mentions of yelling.

Request: Yes.

Words: 1,381

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

Cater Diamond

One of the many things Cater enjoyed was posting pictures of you on magicam. Eating, laughing, swimming, playing Video-games- it didn't matter. His Gallery was full of you and so was his profile on Magicam.

He didn’t know you could be so rough in a fight. You were always sweet and kind, even to the youngsters at the school. A lot of people looked up to you at NRC because of that. THough it was like skinning an onion when he found out the punches you could pull.

“Girls shouldn't eat as much as you do.” Someone had said, walking up to the table one day. “No one wants a fatty. You should get her under control.”

He was ten seconds away from jumping in and telling this guy off, until a loud Thwap!! Rang out across the lunchroom as you slapped the guy as hard as you could. You turned from milk to fireball in an instant.

And he was impressed.

The fight started in a matter of seconds after that, hair being grabbed, punches thrown, screaming, yelling. A crowd gathered as he attempted to pull you off the student that had a firm grip of your hair.

Blood dripped from your knuckles, and his nose was bent out of place when the fight was over. You had broken the kid's nose.

Cater gushed over you later while bandaging your raw knuckles. “That totally would’ve gone viral on Magicam! Where did you learn moves like that?”

Of course, you did get into trouble, as did the kid that picked on you, but everyone learned a valuable lesson that day.

Milk can sour very quickly.

Idia Shroud

What he doesn't have in guts you have in fists.

That was something he learned quickly in the relationship. You may be sweet and kind but you also had a side burning deeper than hell's fire in your heart. You were very quick to tell off people that picked at your boyfriend.

Likewise he also enjoyed how much you cared for Ortho as if he was already a little sibling. It was like being a natural born leader and guide was in your blood.

He didn’t know the extent of how far you would go in standing up for him until someone made a rude comment about him.

“Don’t talk to my boyfriend like that.” Quickly went to, “I’ll pop your fucking ballsack.” Very quickly.

He didn’t try to separate you from the fight as your fist collided with the guy's jaw, he only held Ortho back slightly in a state of shock as he watched the brawl. Idia gave a witty comment towards the student when they fled the scene with an already bruising jaw.

You had almost ran after the guy, but held yourself back and instead asked the two siblings if they were okay.

Ortho said he was going to scan your body for injuries, Idia was lowkey blushing. Congratulations you fried his brain.

His pride grew higher that day. He also asked you for pointers and was more so clingy with you for the next few weeks following the event of the fight.

He may have also hacked the school system and corrupted the video of you kicking the dude's ass so you wouldn’t get in trouble. Idia makes sure to go out of his way to give a sly look every time you stand up for him towards the person insulting him. He likes causing drama.

Leona Kingscholar

*Smirk*

Yeah that's pretty much it. Leona is more than aware that sweet isn't all there is to your personality before he even was in a relationship with you. He just got that vibe and knew he was correct.

When you threw the punch the other guy had it coming. He wasn't being lazy, though he did lay back with his arms crossed watching you beat the shit out of this guy for his bullshit comment.

Cue happy Lion man. Leona was rather amused at the fight but if it got out of hand- if you were getting hurt- he would break up the fight. And maybe throw a few punches of his own for good measure.

You both end up getting in trouble together, and he's the one that just drags you away without a care in the world to the teachers yelling at him to get back here.

On the bright side, it's nice having someone else to care dump Cheka off with, especially since you seem very good with children.

He does enjoy watching your motherly nature. He'd like to have cubs with you one day. He just won't admit it over his life. Ever.

So yeah, he's not really worried about you. In fact, he likes seeing you get feisty. Just not towards him. That's just annoying.

He has threatened to shove a fork up your pussy. When you two fight the dorm literally grabs popcorn. Who knows who'll win, after all. It's the best show to watch.

Epel Felmier

He's a bit too innocent to realize you have this side of you at first. While he knows he does have a fighting spirit, he'd never seen you remotely angry before, so he just assumed you were a peaceful gal.

Oh how wrong he was.

Expel is small and appears frail, and a lot of people exploit that weakness, not on your watch. One wrong comment happened and you'd shocked the guy in the face, who had immediately gone at you and all hell broke loose.

Rook couldn't help but be amused at the situation he was watching, but at the same time knew poor Epel would have the time of his life if Vil found out.

Epel's lips curled into a large smirk that showed off his pearly whites as he watched you tussle with someone until they had run off like a scared bitch.

"You're gon' havta teach me that!" He said, happily as ever. He was quick to wrap you up in an embrace, squeezing you against him.

You immediately hugged back, happy to be back in his arms. And you'd agreed. Rook's job of keeping Epel out of trouble just got a lot harder.

Epel was excited in a way to learn about this new side of yourself you'd shown off to him, it made him love you even more.

God did he love his girlfriend.

Vil Schoenheit

You were picture perfect and he loved it. You were sweet, reliable, soft, good with children. Honestly he absolutely loved you. He just didn't know about how quickly your temper could be set off until it did.

Someone had called your man ugly.

That's right. Ugly. And you weren't standing for it. Vil stood in shock whilst Rook covered his mouth with a coy laugh as your fist connected with the guys jaw. Vil swore he'd heard a crack. While he would argue greatly that he was prettiest of them all, he also knew people had opinions that sometimes couldn't be changed.

Watching you punch this guy with a fire more fierce than diablo's anus after a bad day was certainly something. Albeit it wasn't what he was expecting at all.

He was almost impressed.

Had he not been ashamed of your behavior first and foremost. Vil was quick to break up the fight and have Rook escort the kid to the nurse while he had a stern talking to you.

He spoke to you that day like you were a child getting scolded, and when you refused to relent that what you did was wrong, Vil ended up giving up, admiring your stubbornness of the subject. It was rather adorable hearing you say you'd smack the shot out of anyone that calls him names in front of his face.

He absolutely had fussed over your bloodied knuckles too. Vil was very quick to use everything he had to heal them to perfection so they wouldn't scar. Not a bruise should be left on your skin.

[luvsellie]

Omg! hi can you do a shuri blurb/one shot with the prompt “come over here and make me." I love your writing :)

— pairing shuri x fem!reader | wc 0.3k | prompts "come over here and make me." & "shut up before i kiss you." | note i'm glad you enjoy my writing, that means a lot <333 also i combined two prompts for this blurb :)

06:38 pm

your apartment smelled strongly of pumpkin. and there was nothing wrong with that, you supposed. after all, you were making pumpkin muffins.

but shuri seemed to have thought that the timing was all wrong. “it’s the middle of december; why aren’t you making something, like, peppermint muffins?” she said, her nose scrunching as she tried to understand your reasoning.

“because,” you told her, “i’m craving pumpkin, not peppermint. plus i think that sounds kind of gross.”

shuri sent a pointed look your way as she leaned against the granite counter, her arms crossed against her chest. she ignored your jab at her suggestion and watched you wash the last of the used dishes.

“you’ll like the muffins,” you continued thoughtfully, placing the last ceramic bowl on the drying rack. “they’re really good. they taste similar to the pumpkin chocolate chip cookies i made awhile back that, need i remind you, you loved and begged me to bake again like a week later.”

your girlfriend scoffed from her spot against the counter. “would you believe me if i said i only liked them so you wouldn’t be upset?”

you looked at her sharply, eyes narrowing in on her relaxed person. “no, i wouldn’t believe you. now shut your mouth about not enjoying the damn muffins, shuri.”

“come over here and make me,” she retorted quickly, her lips pulling into a canny smile, tight curls falling over her brow line as her head cocked to the side.

breathing out slowly, you dried your hands on a nearby towel, your side profile turned to her. “shuri, you are absolutely-”

“charming? i really do try my best,” the woman said, cutting off your would-be insult. the way she was always so sly and provocative about everything made your heart leap to your throat. your mouth pressed into a thin line as you approached her, reaching to cup her face. looking up at her you said smoothly, “shut up before i kiss you, god dammit.”

© luvsellie 2022 | do not repost, republish, steal, or translate !!

[a-little-unsteddie]

not to like, hop on the fuck tumblr train that’s been going around but choo choo motherfuckers i have an idea for a social media platform that will be completely feral. if you know coding (bc i do not) and you want to actually genuinely help with this let me know!! because i think i have something fun here.

at the beginning of the most recent wave of stupid updates that tumblr has so wonderfully (/s) supplied us, and when twitter became x, i realized that there’s kind of a gap in the market of a genuinely good social media platform and i was split between two options in my head.

Orbital, a “serious” social media platform that would have a lot of themes around space and take itself seriously as a genuine competitor for the virtual black hole that x and instagram and facebook has left over the last few years.

or Foolery, a less serious social media platform that would not take itself seriously and lean into the fuckery that is tumblr and twitter and somehow combine them, with themes around the circus and other performative careers.

can you guess which one i want to do?

(Foolery, it’s Foolery. i am obsessed with this stupid idea.)

so, i have put some thought into this. like, not a lot, but more than none! here is a few of the basics that i have thought about:

The sign-in/sign-up page would have a randomized slogan from a list of however many we come up with. ‘Welcome to the show’, ‘a place for tricks and treats’, ‘a place filled with shenanigans’ etc

Home Icon - a big top circus tent, where you would end up doom scrolling content. this would have two different modes, similar to tumblr, it would default to chronological, but you could also chose to participate in an algorithm.

Profile Icon - a clown nose, on desktop every time you click on it, it honks like a clown nose does. view your account here.

Creating a post would be called ‘Create an Act’ with different forms available—text, picture, video, poll, etc. the icon for this would be a quill.

Followers would be labeled as the Audience, which would be toggle-able, by default this is set to private, which means that only the owner of the account would be able to see the number, but can be turned public. There would also be an option to just list your Troupe, which would be your mutuals.

There are three admin accounts—Tom, Foolery, and Tomfoolery. Foolery is the publicity, Tom is the cryptid user that appears randomly to comment on peoples post, and Tomfoolery is updates, polling, feedback, etc.

Tickets are notifications as a whole—how many interactions with the post there are, whether that’s likes (peanuts), reposts (unnamed, maybe just reposts ¯\_(ツ)_/¯), comments, etc.

Peanuts are likes. It means you enjoyed the Act (post). maybe feeds the algorithm.?

Golden Tickets are similar to blaze—you can use a Golden Ticket to boost an Act, whether it’s your own or another person’s, so it shows up as a recommended Act for more people in the same fandom/side of Foolery.

now onto the even less thought out ideas, but things that have been on my mind:

I want there to be a tagging system similar to tumblr, but a filtering system similar to ao3? idk if that makes sense, but my basic thoughts are: +tags are used to add to a certain tag and can be searched using that tag. -tags are used to exclude that tag, and can be used to avoid the tag itself. (ex. a post tagged with ‘+steddie’ would be able to be searched using the tag, but a post tagged ‘-steddie’ would specifically be excluded from that tag, but still used as a kind of ‘content warning’ type thing, like ‘-tw blood’ or something similar)

Tragedy/Comedy masks? idk what for, but i think they’d be fun.

Jester Hat - used to signify ‘official’ accounts? i doubt companies or celebrities would use Foolery because obviously but like. just in case, we can publicly shame them for using the literal clown app.

porn. nudity. whatever. nsfw SAFE babes. all your porn is welcome.

anti-ai sorry not really lol

and that’s all the thinking i’ve done about it. but like. i think it would be fun to create, i just don’t have the knowledge nor the resources to actually create a website or app. and if you couldn’t tell, it’s definitely slightly inspired by tumblr minus all of the bs that it’s doing lmao.

so. dm me ig? if you wanna do anything with this? i warn you now: idk what i am doing. i don’t have a discord set up or anything. and! nothing will probably come out of this. however!! it might be a fun project to fuck around with. my roommate is trying to learn coding and one of my closest online friends is in college for it, but i know nothing about it whatsoever and i think that we three people cannot do this alone.

[theverumproject]

Luce Balton

Era: The Awakening (2045)

Basic profile:

Birthday: 05.03.2024

Age: 21

Nationality: Australian

Hometown: Redville (fictional town), Australia

Sex: Female

Gender: Woman

Pronouns: She/her, doesn't mind being called they/them

Sexual orientation: ??? and ???

Appearance:

Head:

Shape: Somewhere between heart and diamond

Eyes: Green, slightly upturned and deep set

Nose: Thin, on the longer side and pointy

Mouth: Naturally red lips, down turned

Hair: Brown, straight, waist length

Body:

Skin: On the paler side

Build: Skinny, hourglass-y, long legs

Height: 183 cm (6”0)

Clothes:

Top: Likes hoodies and long armed shirts. Prefers dark colors like black and brown

Bottom: Likes jeans that are either black or dark blue. Rarely wears dresses and skirts, only on special occasions

Shoes: Likes sneakers and sometimes boots in black or brown

Accessoires: Doesn't wear much except small earrings and maybe a necklace sometimes

Childhood: 

Family: She grew up in a loving home with a mom, a dad and a brother. Most of her time as a child was spent with one of her family members.  

She often accompanied her father to his secret workplace (that nobody knew about) and learned all the secrets of his actual work(place). From a young age, he taught her about computer science, programming and AI. Luce had always been a nerd about many topics. But what her father had to tell, was her favorite one of all. 

Her brother Adam was obsessed with quantum physics. She also spent quite some time with him. Either playing or listening to what he had to say. Sadly, it all had to end when he began his studies and had barely any time for her (much to his regret, he loved his little sister).

Her mother was an astrophysicist. Similar to the other family members, Dorothy taught her many things too. She was the one who took care of her the most. They would spend many nights outside in the garden. They would set up a camp and a very good telescope to watch the stars and planets very closely.

When nobody was home, especially when she was younger, her uncle and aunt took care of her often. A love for science seemed to run in their family. Then they were a neuroscientist and an anthropologist. You can guess how they entertained Luce.

School: Luce was homeschooled. It does not come as a surprise that Luce would have been underwhelmed if she stayed at a normal school. She didn't solve complicated math equations at five years old, but she definitely already understood how to multiply numbers up to 100. Teachers also often got frustrated with her. She would always ask them the kind of questions she would ask at home, and always wanted to learn something that was not age appropriate.

Her parents could afford it and even knew a teacher personally, who would become Luce's teacher for quite a few years. He too helped raise her of sorts.

Friends: Being homeschooled, Luce didn't make too many friends in her life. She did go to the park occasionally to play with other children, but didn't really make any long lasting connections. Additionally, she would also be rejected sometimes. After all, she was a kid who they knew didn't fit into their school, meaning she was not seen as one of them. An outsider. 

As she got older she knew that she really lacked something during her childhood.

Conclusion: Luce had a wonderful homelife, but wasn't good at making deeper friendships, therefore having weaker social skills.

Relationships:

Bluctro: Boyfriend

Dethra: New friend

Michael: Father

Dorothy: Mother

Adam: Brother

Jacob: Uncle

Sophie: Aunt

Martin: Uncle, but haven't interacted with each other much.

Personality:

Type: INTJ/Architect (possibly)

Definition: The INTJ personality type is Introverted, iNtuitive, Thinking, and Judging, which means they are energized by time alone, focused on big picture ideas and concepts, led by logic and reason, and organized. This combination of personality preferences produces people who are analytical, innovative, and strategic. 

Interview: The Luce from this interview will be from the year 2093, so her personality might be a little different. Though I might make one for 2045. I will link it in here too.

Origins:

Protoversions:

1: I think it began when I was about seven years old. Like most little girls, I thought stuff like fairies and superpowers were super cool! So I imagined a hero who was something like that. She could fly, had fairy wings (sometimes) and was a robot. Fun fact: The robot part was inspired by Lego NInjago's Zane. I remember there was that one scene, where he opened his chest and revealed the mechanical parts inside. Protoversion 1 liked to do the same. Now, this little world I had was purely fantasy, no science fiction yet. (I didn't see being a robot as Sci fi as a kid). Protoversion 1 was an absolute Mary Sue. She had all the powers in the world! You see, there were a bunch of hearts inside her torso, every single one of them holding a different power: Fire, water, lighting, poison and maaaany more! Silly seven year old me…

2: When I was about ten or eleven years old, I absolutely fell in love with astronomy. I was obsessed! All I wanted was space, the universe and the cosmos. Logically, this is where my new fantasy world began to take place. Protoversion 2 didn't have wings anymore and wasn't a robot anymore either. But they were the queen of a star system. I think I must have had something with elements and stuff like that, because the system had a bunch of planets that were all themed after different elements and other stuff like that. They even had names! I drew a picture of it all these years ago:

With Protoversion 2, Sci fi elements began to take place, though it still was a world that was mostly fantasy. (Verum was meant to start 2000 years in the future, where they live in space)

3: Protoversion 2 didn't exist long, then she soon was replaced by 3. I think I was about 11 or 12 years old. And oh god was I weird and edgy! Ewgghhhh! (I mean, I'm probably still slightly edgy, but I was serious about that shit during that time!!!) I had the wonderful idea to create a secret organization! They were called the Spreatures, which is a mix between spirit and nature. At the time, I believed in subliminals and that humans had powers buried deep inside of them. And the Spreatures used these powers to help save the world! Their leader was called XVerum and later just Verum. Verum is the Latin word for truth. Today's Verum doesn't actually associate with that meaning though.

4/Verum: I suddenly changed all my views when I was about 13 years old and the actual Verum came to be! My nerdy ass couldn't leave science alone and changed up the whole world again. This time: Space, robots, aliens and the attempt to be scientifically accurate. When I was 14, I think, I began writing the first three parts of Verum as a final school project.  The first part was called How to be Immortal and it was what I call a Bridge today. This bridge played 2000 years in the future though.  The second part was Birth of a Digital Mind, which is actually the third part in Verum I: The Awakening. Discovery of the Undead and Interdimensional Beings was the third and last part. How one might notice, this part obviously had fantasy elements. Verum was at the very beginning supposed to be Sci fi fantasy, but I scrapped that idea. This is the first drawing of Verum:

Luce Balton: Verum obviously needed an actual name, especially if I wanted to write about her before she became Verum. I attempted to write the beginning of the book 2000 years in the future. But it didn't work. So what do you do, when you don't know how to begin a story? You jump two millennium into the past to tell the whole fucking story from the beginning! Fucking hell… This is the first drawing of Luce:

If you have any questions about Luce, ask away in the comments or in a reblog! I will put your question and my answer in this post.

Masterpost

[skinzchoerim]

Bias Tag Game

Thanks so much @rieloving-mess for tagging me! To prevent OOO from dominating the list since they're my favorite people ever, I decided to pick max two members of the same group

Rules: you're going to pick 10 of your biases (or as many biases as you have and then fill in the rest of the spots with idols you like) and number them 1-10, then answer the questions below. Try not to look at the questions before you make your list!

If you haven't done it and you want to @shyreol @sapphonoticeme then I'd love to see your take on it!!

1. Yoojung (OnlyOneOf)

2. Jungwoo (NCT)

3. Choerry (Odd Eye Circle)

4. Hyunjin (Stray Kids)

5. Key (SHINee)

6. MK (ONF)

7. KB (OnlyOneOf)

8. Lee Know (Stray Kids)

9. Ten (NCT/WayV)

10. Hyunjin (Loossemble)

Questions and answers below!

1. Between 7 and 5, who did you bias first?

Key, in 2017 I think?

2. Between 2 and 6, who are you more attached to?

Jungwoo, hands down

3. If you were to spend the day with either 3 or 1, who would you choose and what would you do?

I think a hang out with Taeyeob would be really cool, and I'd love us to visit the place where they filmed begin. Maybe I'd also use the opportunity to eat my first burger there cause I keep putting it off

4. What is your favorite physical feature about 9?

His side profile, especially his nose

5. What is your favorite part of 6's personality?

I don't know much about ONF members' personalities since I'm stanning them for their music, but he seems like someone who's got very positive energy. He also has one of my favorite voices in kpop, which is why he's on the list

6. If you were to tell 8 anything you wanted, what would you tell them?

I'd ask him "How the hell did you manage to craft a public persona that's both enigmatically unserious and surprisingly genuine?" He'd probably blink at me and walk away, wouldn't he

7. Between 1 and 2, whose closet would you raid?

Taeyeob's hoodies and hats seem really cozy, and we sort of have a similar style anyway

8. What is a style that you want to see 3 try?

The best way I can describe my vision is dark and elegant with a dash of fairy. Something like the photoshoots for (g)i-idle's oh my god or red velvet's psycho, but a little more sparkly and whimsical

9. Between 5 and 4, who are you closer to in height?

Apparently Kibum is 1cm shorter, so him

10. Between 10 and 9, whose music do you like the best?

Wow this is a complicated one. Since loossemble haven't debuted yet, I'm gonna do loona vs wayv (in this case I'd choose loona) and loona vs nct as a whole (I'd choose nct)

[taybatwo2]

The Creature From the Black Lagoon Skullector Review Part 2 of 2

Okay!!! In this part of the review, let’s look at some of the Creature’s accessories and compare her to some more G1 monsters! More under the cut!

Starting from the top, here is a close up of her “earring.” It is not removable from her headpiece.

The back of her head piece (the yellow/green gradient they painted with it really helps it to POP). It’s held really securely into her head with a comb and plastic stays.

And the side!! I seriously love all the extra sculpted detail.

Here is her corset piece. It’s a really pretty piece that I wish had some of those same highlights on the edges of the scales that the headdress has.

Again, I kinda wished that this was part of her sculpted body (besides the shoulder part, which would probably hamper arm mobility, but then again, she already can’t lay her arms down to her sides very well)….

Here is the Creature just wearing her swimsuit/clothing piece without the corset piece.

and here it is off the doll. The tulle-like material is much stiffer than I was expecting.

Both sides of her arm bracers. I would have liked some highlights there… and still wish that the fins had been apart of her….

Her boots are beautiful! So many details in these!!! And the little harpoons and rope not only creating heel, but it’s wrapped around both lower ankles, like she strapped them to her feet or she was captured by the normies. Awesome details!!

And even the underside of her heels are super detailed!

And her new kind of stand. ….I like it better than a saddle stand!!

Here are the details on the stand’s base. An anchor (similar to Vandala’s purse -picture from eBay), dead fish and seaweed are all imprinted on it.

It’s hollow, and kinda light, but it seems pretty sturdy -and stands better than some other specialty collector stands-.

Here she is clipped onto her stand. She clips in pretty easy, but I wonder if she’s supposed to be she leaning to one side.

Okay! Let’s compare the Creature to her G1 counterpart!!

Tada! Lagoona and her Universal ancestor!! The Creature has a more detailed head mold and claws, but I like that G1 Lagoona has actual fins.

And I thought it would be fun to compare their profiles. The Creature has such a flat profile. :3 You can tell that Lagoona’s face mold was heavily inspired by the Creatures though (the forehead, partially the lips and the jawline look fairly similar). Also, I think it’s cute that both Lagoona and the Creature have little “fins” sticking out of the top of their head. Let’s bring in the extended family (I did forget to bring out my CAM Sea Monster, who also has a very flat nose to compare her to).

The Monsters that haunt your lochs, swamps, lagoons, seas and fresh bodies of water!! It is amazing that the Creature and the other Universal Monsters inspired the original ghouls and look how many they inspired in turn.

And a comparison of not only their skin color, but him much G1 plays around with hand sculpts (something G3 is sorely lacking in - why does G3 Lagoona not have webbed fingers!!). G1 Lagoona’s (wow, even the peg looks different than the others). They added claws and scales to it for Lagoonafire, they cut back how far up the fingers the webbing went up and added more detailed vines and lines on it for Honey’s, they made Lorna’s more rounded and paddle like, and seemed to scale that puppy up for the very base of the Creature’s. Her hand is almost as big as Gil’s!

I also wanted to compare her with some other green ghouls who I was reminded of. CAM Gorgon’s eyeshadow and lipstick were very reminiscent of Creature’s, as were her nose scales/ridges. Greta is much more brightly colored than either CAM Gorgon or Creature’s skin (the Creature has a blue shimmer/pearlescent glimmer to her skin).

And finally, her with her Universal brethren. We just need: The Wolfman, The Mummy, and the Invisible Man and we’d be set!

[insufficientlyadvanced]

Okay, here's a random anecdote from the other side of a kinda similar system:

I used to work on a website that looked at a bunch of activity from your IP address to make a guess on whether you're a bot. We knew a lot of legit users would look like bots because IP addresses don't uniquely identify individuals, so we didn't actually ban people based on that guess, but a few very specific servers would still be very disappointed in you and pointedly wrinkle their nose.

If you were to use that website over a commercial VPN, especially in another country, you a) might have a kinda shitty experience because roundtripping through a far away server might fuck with your bandwidth and latency too much for our service but that's unrelated to this post, b) look like a bot in general just because your IP address is that of a commercial hosting provider and not a residential ISP, c) look really sketchy if a lot of other users, even only legit ones, use that VPN, because your activity profile thingy will be that of a chorus of souls glued together into some sort of unholy abomination, instead of like one person or a household or something.

(We specifically exempted IP addresses for a bunch of big organizations behind NAT like some universities, or CGNAT stuff.)

The activity we'd look at is stuff like how many HTTP requests you make in general, how many requests for one kind of thing you make relative to requests for another kind, how much time passes between requests, if your IP address changes between requests, whether you're in one country and heavily accessing content from another country, etc. We wouldn't set specific rules for what a bot looks like vs a legit user, instead the data science people would just to identify patterns that diverge from the norm/majority, then the machine learning thing would spit out a bunch of magic numbers to compare all the activity numbers to, and finally we'd test it against a bunch of other data and manually verify that we're (mostly, lol) accurately identifying bots.

You can probably tell why sharing a VPN with a ton of other people would confuse our system. I assume other websites have broadly similar systems, except maybe fancier because they'd have more experts working on them instead of, like, a college dropout and one or two grad students, and they're trying to detect fraudulent purchases or other more serious stuff. At some point they let us fly to a conference in France (back when I lived in Europe, so, like, a two hour trip or something) where a ton of smart people from the "we hate bots" industry regularly shared notes. I don't remember a lot about that but I got a tshirt with a cute design that was like a kraken holding a bunch of sockpuppets or something like that.

We explicitly didn't tell users why they'd get misidentified as bots when that happened because obviously the people making bots would use that to make our job harder. Users came up with a bunch of completely wrong theories, at least sometimes we got to tell them that no, that wasn't it. Interestingly, a team working on a completely different part of the website introduced a thing to stop different bots that works completely differently, and it's obtuse to the point where not only users frequently complained about it on social media but also fairly regularly our own fucking employees couldn't access the website anymore and the error message would kinda lie to them and they had to know to ask the right people to get pointed to the right Slack channel where someone might or might not tell them how to work around it. That team had different requirements (I think their thing was partly for stuff like stopping bot-powered harassment of users, so idk good on them for being more draconian) so they made different tradeoffs which caught legit users for different, stupid reasons, but they probably wouldn't have blocked you for using a VPN. At least one of my friend got caught by their thing, though, and it kinda fucking sucked that I wasn't supposed to reveal how to get around the system.

A lot of it ultimately comes down to that the more you look different from the most boring, average user you can imagine, the harder a time you're going to have using a big-ass company's website, which isn't very different from how life works in general but is still very frustrating to me personally.

Anyway, unrelated to the whole VPN aspect, it was a fun thing to work on because it had that kind of adversarial element where we were trying to outsmart the people with the bots and they kept changing their bots to outsmart our system, and when our system worked well there were actually a whole lot of users actively celebrating on social media because it made such a huge difference to their particular experience. Then the other two people on the team got higher-paying jobs elsewhere and management had me basically just keep that system on life support and in the end I mostly worked on ad delivery instead (ublock doesn't block our ads but at some point I had to turn off ublock because it stopped me from accessing our github repository for a bunch of ad bullshit, lol), so, eh, win some, lose some.

ok, so my other account has finally been unbanned, so I will say this again, one more time:

if you are using a vpn on tumblr, stop.

yes, vpns are a fundamental of internet security, I use one daily myself, however:

if you use a vpn on tumblr, it is not a matter of if you will get shadowbanned, but when.

if you go look at r/tumblracctterminated nearly every single user was innocently using a vpn while using tumblr.

my theory is that they are using a autoblock on ips when banning the pornbots and spambots, which are going onto an internal list, so that theoretically any other bot accounts from the same user/ip are also caught in the net. it's a lot quicker to automatically feature-block (shadowban) an account, which prevents it from appearing in tags, in people's notes, or be able to DM, than it is for the account to be time-consumingly and expensively manually checked by a human.

which is all fine and good, but obviously, those bot accounts are also using vpns and so when you, innocent person using a vpn, make a post, it checks your ip against the banned list, and oh would you look at that, a spambot used your ip! and so it shadowbans you. it always happens right after you make a post, which is the trigger - I believe the only safe time to use a vpn is when browsing the dash but not interacting with anything (replies, dms, reblogs) but it's not worth the risk.

and once it happens to you once, it will keep happening to you because your account is now flagged - my previous account got shadowbanned twice in one month, and it took 15 days+ to get unbanned both times, and in the interim, my account was also completely deleted for 3 hours at one stage. when this happens the only recourse is to email support and wait for them to unblock you, and they never offer an explanation or solution when they do ("just a glitch" they say) - and in the meantime, none of your posts appear in tags and you cannot interact with any of your friends' posts, send/receive messages or asks. for upwards of two weeks.

I have had to completely abandon that entire account and start over to avoid this happening again, losing everything I built up on that account, which sucks ass. I do not want this to happen to any of you.

please stop using a vpn on tumblr!

[fixtionvixen]

The moon is new in the sky, coloring the forest surrounding your house in shadows and pockets of dark. Where some people find the shadows scary, filled with terror and monsters, you find peace in the gloom of the trees. Sitting on the porch with a glass of wine in your hand and the sounds of crickets and bugs playing their nightly symphony, you can't help but smile in serenity at the life you've built for yourself. Glancing over to your side, your eyes trace the profile of the man you love, nose buried in a book and loosely holding a glass of whiskey while tapping his foot out to a beat only he can hear. Studying him in the hanging porch lights, you think back on the first time you saw the same profile and thought that you'd not mind seeing that every day for the rest of your life.

It was summertime, early enough in the year where you could go swimming in the daytime and need a sweater at night. Throwing on a sweater over your jeans shorts and swim top, you start out to the brewery after having a similar day, poolside with friends, then home to change and out for a beer or two. Finding your place at the table and picking back up the conversations you left at the pool, you all easily chat away the next hour. Stepping back up to the bar to get a round brought over, you glance over and find yourself staring. Colorful ink swirling from his wrist up his arm, you get lost in the designs until you reach his neck. Backwards baseball hat, beard that looks softer than your own hair, and a glimmer in his eyes as he listens to the owner explain how they made the beer he has in his hands, which curls around a frosted glass, fingertips almost meeting on the other side. Your eyes linger on his face, committing the good looks to memory as you begin to collect the beers at the counter, thinking this will be the only chance you're going to see him after this.

Suddenly, eyes meet your own and a smile breaks out across his face, causing a dimple in an otherwise stoic face to peek through the beard. His gaze slides to the beer cups sitting next to you and he immediately stands up from his seat, grinning and helping you collect all your drinks. Introducing himself, his voice slides over you like warm water on a cold day, deep and smooth with a hint of an accent that you can't place but prominent enough to notice with only a few words. You do your best to play it cool, acting like your brain isn't oozing out of your ears at being noticed by a guy who's absolutely what you've been looking for. Getting to the table, you introduce him to the crowd and invite him to join. Conversation picks back up, everyone asking him questions that should be embarrassing or personal but he answers them easily, flashing the same dimpled smile around the table but somehow always making it back to your face. He dives into a topic with one of your friends, hands becoming animated as he gestures and eyes sparkling with passion. You stare, feeling your lungs seize up as your breath catches and you wonder if love at first sight really does exist.

Catching the eyes of one of your best friends, she moves her eyebrows in the "jump his bones" way that makes you laugh, but also makes you consider doing just that. As the night progresses, the smiles become bigger and the chairs you're in find their way closer while you all talk and drink. You realize the bartenders are cleaning their stations and your group is the last one lingering, caught up in the conversations. Pulling yourselves away from the fun, agreements are made to meet up again soon as the summer fun never truly ends.

Everyone separates off to their cars and ubers, leaving the two of you in conversation at the doors as neither of you seem in a hurry to end the night. He offers to walk you to your car, lingering as you toss your things in and do your best to muster up the confidence to do something, whether it be give him your number or jump him in the parking lot. The decision is taken out of your hands as you turn, finding him behind you and asking if it's okay to leave you with his number because he doesn't want to miss out on whatever is between the two of you. You smile, listing your number out as he looks down to enter it, finding yourself once again staring at his face and thinking to yourself how that wouldn't be a bad way to start every single day. He looks up, grinning at what you presume is just that thought written across your face, before leaning in and kissing your cheek with a whispered good night before walking to the motorcycle nearby. As he straps on his helmet and straddles the bike, you know two things immediately. One, you're in so much trouble cause you plan to make that boy your own. And two.... your dad is going to absolutely hate him.

Shaking your head, you bring yourself out of memory lane and feel fingertips running through your hair. Eyes coming back into focus, you find that you're caught in those same glimmering eyes you looked into all that time ago. With a soft smile on his face, as if he knew where your thoughts were, he tugs on your hair to bring your face to his, kissing you like you wanted him to then. If you had known then what you do now, all the worrying and self sabotaging you did could have been thrown aside. So you dwell in the now, in the feel of his beard on your face and his hands stroking through your hair, and count yourself lucky that you found one another.

One who even your dad likes.

[yngseung]

i can hear vrvr sing this so well

[cloudywithchanceofrainestorm]

I am a hundred precent certain that Wittebro is an ancestor to the Clawthorns.

Exhibit A: Birds are a Clawthorn thing.

Dana Terrace has said before that the Clawthorns have a thing for birds, and this is proven true in the show. Every member of the family has a bird palisman-

Now we have seen background palisman who are birds (such as bell goose) but weve never see another witch with a bird palisman until Flapjack chose Hunter.

We know Flapjack had an owner before, and everyones certain its the Wittebro, wouldnt it be weird if birds were a Clawthorne thing but Wittebro was the one exception.

Exhibit B: Dell Clawthorne looks weirdly like hunter.

Dell is most likely the orginal holder of the Clawthorne name. I say this cause Gwen says that the Clawthornes are known for their Palisman carving skills and Dell had that role. That being said, look at their side profiles together,

The bridge of the nose and how their hair flows backwards especially sick out here, their far from identical but they definitely look like they could be related.

I think its especially noticeable when you compare hunter to young Dell.

With his hair up you can see the how similar their hair falls.

Exhibit C: the mind portraits

Okay so this is the biggest piece of evidence is the portraits within Belos' mind, and how they seem to tell the story of how Philip killed his brother after he fell in love with a witch. This post pretty well interprets them as such.

But look at the witch in the portraits,

That first one really looks like young Eda from Echos of the Past.

Thats signature Clawthorne poof hair right there.

Exhibit D: what did gwen say again?

The Clawthornes are known for their Palisman carving skills.

And what does one of the portraits show Wittebro doing?

Carving.

Its never stated that you need magic to carve palisman, Hunter doesnt need magic to have one and Eda never says anything about it when she brings the palistrom wood to Luz.

It would be the only skill he could use to in the demon realm to gain a living without magic.

Exhibit E: Whats behind the Clawthorne estate

When Eda runs out to the back of the estate she finds these ruins aswell as the damaged portal door.

Going back to the portraits, in the presumably last stand between the brothers we can see that wherever they are, its on fire.

This could be an explanation for the ruins, if this is the old Clawthorne estate then Philip destroyed it.

It would also explain why the portal door was there, if Philip didn't have it of course his brother would. And if his brother knew about his plans to exterminate this place he could bury it to hide it, hence Eda finding it in the dirt.

So what if this is correct, and the mordern Clawthorne clan are descendents of this guy?

Well it looks like that witch cursed Philip with something and that Eda's family is way more involved with this that previously thought.

It also means Hunter, on some level, is canonically related to Eda in some way.

[biocheminpics]

This is a great question. But a disclaimer: this isn't my exact area of expertise, so keep that in mind.

So the problem with any character like this is, fundamentally, we would be functionally unable to comprehend their subjective experience perfectly. As an example, imagine trying to comprehend the vision of the mantis shrimp, who have 12 channels of color vision (9 more than us). You'd have to imagine 9 colors you can't imagine. So... yeah.

But we can try to provide analogies. Best starting point is to understand what taste is. The subjective experience of taste is much more reliant on olfactory response than people often realize. This can be seen best in that trick where you plug your nose and blindfolded try to tell the difference between a raw potato and an apple by taste. Spoiler alert: you can't. So if your character only has an olfactory sense it would basically be the same as smelling anything. So what they'd be losing out on is texture info and the 5 main flavors: sweet, salty, sour, bitter, and savory. It's reasonable that texture info might be not evolved in a photosynthetic organism, but the five tastes are detecting specific chemical classes. Salty is salts, sweet is sugars, sour is effectively low pH detection, bitter is phenols and tannins (which are often components in natural posions), and savory is free form glutamate (which iirc is loosely correlated to protein content). This information was vital to us for survival, which is why this sense evolved. We needed to be somewhat aware of the nutrient content and/or danger of what we put in our mouth, so taste it is.

Along a similar line, your photosynthetic character would need to be able to detect compounds that make up its broad nutritional profile and major sources of danger if absorbed (weakly, inaccurately, and erring on the side of caution, because evolution's mantra is, "eh good enough"). So we could conceivably provide a sense that humans don't have. Like a taste response but it's on the feet or skin or something. As this is a photosynthetic organism, I'm going to guess either a plant-like evolutionary ancestor or a algal-like one. If it's the former, being able to detect some things that we detect on our tongue, like pH and salt would make sense. But unlike us, these are dangerous to plants if off balance, so probably would be unpleasant, like extreme saltiness or bitterness. Detecting solution nitrogenation would also be another you could work in as, "taste." Imagine interpreting something like that as savory, for example, as it would indicate how, "fertalized," the nutrients are. Light could also cause a taste-like response. Maybe broad spectrum is really smooth and well blended (like a soft cheese is to us) but harsh LEDs with narrow band wavelengths are more sharp and pungent (like a sharp cheddar with that same analogy).

Being able to detect gasses, like O2, N2, or CO2 might be also helpful. So their olfactory sense may mix in through this avenue. Humans can only detect one gas: CO2. We interpret it as pain. When you hold your breath, the discomfort is CO2 buildup. So a sapient photosynthesizer might have the same response to O2.

The tl;dr of this is there are usually evolutionarily linked reasons why our senses behave the way they do. So coming up with a really brief overview of the evolutionary history of your character's species will inform their biology and provide a robustness to their development and design.

Science/Doctor side of Tumblr: A writer in need

I've got a fun character with interesting biology and my looking into Google is not very successful so my question is thus:

How does food taste to someone with no sense of taste but has a sense of smell? Like, how would their brain process that?

For context this is an alien character who has no mouth and gets their sustenance through photosynthesis and are able to absorb water through their skin. So I thought they might be able to "eat" if the food is in liquid form, but I cannot figure out how to describe how that would feel or operate

Any advice is greatly appreciated!