#which always makes me think something big is coming up...

[covenofagatha]

Sugar, spice, and everything nice (Part 4)

Agatha takes you to her house after your date in the park

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: oral sex, sex toys, fingering, mommy kink

Taglist: @lostbutlovely33 @diorrxckstar @whoreforolderfictionalwomen  @katekathry @onemansdreamisanothermansdeath @tayasmellsapples @natashashill @mybraininblood @mysticalmoonlight7  @cactuslover2600 @loveem0mo @readysteddiero-nance @lonelyhalfwitch @lesbiantortilla @crescendoofstars @sol-in-wonderland @ahsfan05 @gbab09 @sasheemo @agathaharness @live-laugh-love-lupone @chiar4anna @fuckedupforkhahn @lowlyjelly

Thankfully, Agatha doesn’t tease you at all with the toy the whole way back to her house. You aren’t sure you could take anymore of it. 

You can still feel phantom vibrations inside you and your hips involuntarily jerk every so often. She chuckles, watching you out of the corner of her eye, but you can see her knuckles turn white around the steering wheel when you let out a small gasp. 

Agatha tries to drive safely, but you see her teeth grit when she presses down on the gas pedal to make a yellow light. She’s as desperate as you are, and the thought only makes you clench harder around the toy still inside you. 

Thankfully it’s only a fifteen minute drive and she’s pulling into the driveway of a giant house. You didn’t even know there were houses this big in this part of New Jersey but it looks like a mansion. 

She presses a button in her car and the gate out in front slowly opens. Your jaw drops as you take in the details of the massive two-story house with a three car garage, floor-to-ceiling glass windows, and you think you can see a pool in the backyard? 

And there’s a water fountain out front in the middle of the roundabout driveway. 

Your jaw drops open and you look at her with wide eyes. “You live here?” You whisper and Agatha nods with a smirk.

It’s a far cry from your 250 square foot dorm room and you’re embarrassed remembering how you practically begged her to come up with you to it the other night. 

There’s a seedling of doubt that plants itself in your mind. Agatha is clearly a very successful lawyer, with a huge home and more money than you could ever dream of. You’re nothing but a college student who works at a bakery with maybe three-hundred dollars to your name, most of which came from Agatha’s tips. You shouldn’t be here with her. You shouldn’t be with her at all. 

Agatha will always be able to take you out, treat you to the nicest things – the brand new laptop, the sex toys. She gave you her credit card and told you to buy whatever you wanted. 

You had to settle for a picnic in the park. 

“Hey,” Agatha says gently, interlocking her fingers with yours and rubbing her thumb on your skin soothingly. “Everything okay?”

You must be wearing your shame on your face and you shake your head and try to offer a reassuring smile. “Yeah, I’m good. Just kind of crazy that you live here—” you wave your hands, motioning to her house, “and I’m just a college kid.” 

“Oh, honey.” She reaches over and tilts your chin to face her, making you look right into her eyes. Your cheek twitches with the effort of hiding how insecure you feel. “You’re so much more than that.” She leans across the console to press a soft kiss to your lips. 

It makes you feel a little better. “Really?”

She nods earnestly. “You’re so pretty and smart and hard-working. That little crease above your eyes you get when you’re thinking hard about something is so cute. The way your mouth opens in shock when I tip you. And—” she says, a mischievous glint in her eye and you feel your stomach warm, “you’re really fucking hot when you moan for me.” 

Heat sears through you and you gasp, clasping her cheeks and pulling her to you, your mouth meeting hers in the middle. 

Agatha wastes no time before sliding her tongue into your open mouth, flicking against yours and she sucks on your bottom lip, a filthy moan escaping you. Her mouth is hot on yours like she’s hungry, like she’s trying to devour you — and you let her. 

She swallows up the sounds from your throat and you tangle your fingers into her hair to try and get her closer, you need to feel more, you need her so much you can hardly breathe. 

Your skin feels like it’s burning, more wetness pooling in your already soaked underwear from earlier, you clench around the toy and wish she would turn it on to give you some much-needed relief. 

Her tongue licks against yours and she groans and pulls back, resting her forehead against yours while she pants. 

She huffs out a laugh as your breaths mix together. “Should we bring this inside?” 

And all your worries about not being good enough melt away. “Yes, please,” you say, not even bothering to hide how desperate you are for her. 

Agatha’s eyes dart down to your lips and she kisses you one last time like she can’t help herself before opening her door and getting out. You follow in suit, grabbing your overnight bag with all the sex toys, and she leads you up to the front door, fumbling with the keys with shaky hands before finally unlocking it. 

You barely have time to admire the gray laminate flooring or the extravagant chandelier that hangs in the entryway or the extensive bar tucked into a corner of the living room as she wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into her, her lips finding yours once again. 

This time, when her tongue traces against your lips, her hands slip under your shirt and the heat from her splayed fingers makes you gasp. You drop the bag and your hands wrap around her shoulders and you don’t think it would be possible to be closer to her than you are right now. 

She walks you backwards until you hit the wall, her mouth never leaving yours, and her thigh slots between your legs, and you grind against her, the same way you did on the park bench. 

Tension grows in your stomach, not taking long at all with how worked up you still are, and Agatha’s hands roam higher under your shirt, brushing against the edge of the lacy bra you put on for her. She cups your breasts and you gasp into her mouth, your hips stuttering against her leg. 

And when Agatha circles her thumbs against your nipples, you keen, your back arching off the wall with a sigh and she smirks against you. 

“Agatha,” you breathe. “Mommy.” 

She groans like the name is too much, too good, and you throb at knowing you have that effect on her, and then she’s grabbing your hand and yanking you into the living room. Your lips are swollen and your cheeks are flushed and the mess between your legs keeps getting worse and you need her more than you thought possible. 

“Lay on the couch,” she rasps and it’s dizzying to hear her like that, like she needs you just as much as you need her. 

You obey and in an instant, she’s straddling your hips and tearing off her blazer and the blouse underneath, throwing them somewhere in the room and you inhale sharply at her smooth pale skin, her black bra, her stomach. 

“God, you’re beautiful,” you say before you can think about it and she uncharacteristically blushes before bending over you, her hair tickling your face, and kisses you softly. 

It turns every bit as filthy as the other ones and soon enough, she’s tugging at the hem of your shirt to help you take it off while your hands trace the outlines of her ribs. 

Her lips nip at your chest, soothing the sting with her tongue, and your fingers bury into her hair to keep her there when she sucks on your nipples over your bra. Your hips rut up, the toy inside you providing a little bit of stimulation but nowhere near enough, and the heat inside you only gets worse when Agatha gets frustrated with your bra and rips the middle of it open, giving her access to your breasts. 

Before you can make a comment about your torn lingerie, her tongue swirls around your nipples and your eyes roll back, all the thoughts in your head vanishing. You make a strangled noise and your hands fiddle with the clasp of Agatha’s bra before finally unhooking it. 

She pulls away to shrug it off and then lowers herself against you to kiss you, her nipples sliding against yours and you gasp at the feeling. 

Agatha huffs out a laugh, a hand sneaking between your bodies to dip into the waistband of your skirt and you moan, hips jumping—

A phone rings. You think it might be yours coming from your bag by the door, but through the haze in your mind, you remember that your phone is set to silence. 

Which means — Agatha swears and looks between you and her blazer that’s laying on the floor, where the sound is coming from, as if she’s trying to decide what to do. 

The ringing stops eventually and Agatha smirks before dragging her lips against your collarbone, her hand pushing up your skirt and sliding a hand between your legs. You jump when she cups you over your underwear and she chuckles teasingly before stroking two fingers up and down, pressing the outer piece of the toy against your clit and you can feel how wet you are, and the sudden pressure on your clit makes you moan. 

Her ringtone plays again and this time Agatha growls before quickly getting off you and retrieving her phone from her blazer. 

“What?” She barks into it and you see the clock on the wall say it’s a little past 9 pm. Who would be calling at this hour? You watch as her body position changes and she slumps defeatedly into herself, eyes looking anywhere but you. “Are you serious?” 

Agatha turns around and massages her forehead while you try not to get too distracted by how good her ass looks in her tight-fitted pants. You are positively aching right now and you wonder if she would be mad if you started touching yourself. 

You feel like she would so you sit up and squirm on the couch instead. 

“Fine. Give me fifteen minutes,” she says and she sounds pissed. She hangs up the phone and curses, grabbing her shirt and blazer off the floor. 

You chew on your lip tentatively. “Everything okay?” 

Agatha pulls her shirt over her head, fluffing out her hair from the neckline. “This stupid case I’m working on has hit a snare. That was my partner at the firm, he needs me on a video call in fifteen minutes with some of the other attorneys to discuss how we’re going to move forward.” Agatha sighs and walks over to the couch, cupping your cheeks and kissing your lips, making your clit pulse while you sit there, suddenly cold. “I’m so sorry, honey.” 

“No, it’s your job, I completely understand,” you say, still a little letdown but trying to hide it for her. “I’ll still be here after.” 

She gives you a sweet smile and it’s hard to be annoyed when she looks at you like that. Agatha softly brushes your hair, tucking a lock behind your ear, and kisses your forehead. “That’s my good girl.” 

It’s hard to miss the shudder that runs through you when she says that and she smirks. 

“You’re welcome to explore or come hang out in the study with me. I have some swimsuits in my closet if you want to go for a late night swim,” she offers, eyes twinkling at the thought of you in a swimsuit and you laugh. 

“I’m sure I’ll figure something out,” you say and she squeezes your shoulder before going into her office, leaving the door open as an invitation. 

You decide to look around a bit. First, after you shrug off the ruins of your bra and put your shirt back on, you go into the kitchen where you’re met with white marble countertops, a huge stainless steel fridge with post-it notes stuck to it with reminders like Check on Vidal case and Talk to Wanda about Wu finances and Bananas, eggs, chicken, bourbon. You read each one and then with a jolt, see one that makes your cheeks heat up. Date with y/n Tuesday — clean the house. 

On the island, the faucet in the deep sink is gold plated and the wine rack tucked into the side is filled with expensive bottles. Not a speck of dust anywhere and you’re just in awe of how nice everything is. 

That hint of insecurity starts to creep back in and you decide to go back to the study and be with Agatha. Even just sitting near her will make you feel better. 

She’s sitting at a big mahogany desk and looks up over her computer to smile and you can see the AirPods in her ears like she was hoping you’d come in. In front of the desk is a glass coffee table with two leather couches on each side of it, all perpendicular to her desk.

You trace the spines of the books on the shelves lining the walls, some lawyer books, some of the classics, and even a few fiction books that you’ve read. 

There’s still the ache inside you, although it’s dulled to a steady, muted heat and you decide to settle on one the couches and watch her. 

She starts talking, saying a lot of fancy lawyer words that you don’t quite know the meaning of, but you’re content to rest your chin in your hand and stare. It’s absolutely enchanting to watch her in her element like this, and it’s hot how effortlessly she takes power and says things so matter-of-factly. 

And then she starts to flip her pen around her fingers on her left hand and it makes your mouth water. You can’t stop looking at her now, watching her long fingers easily and absentmindedly move the pen while she listens, brows furrowed together. 

All of a sudden, the heat is roaring back to life inside you with a vengeance and you shift on the chair, gasping when the toy presses further into you. 

You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, it could be really distracting for her and she needs to focus — and yet, you can’t stop yourself from spreading your legs in her direction and pushing up your skirt to show her your soaked underwear. 

The pen between her fingers clatters onto the desk and she rushes to pick it back up. Feeling emboldened, you slide two fingers into your mouth and hollow your cheeks while you suck, giving her the best pair of doe eyes you can, and Agatha sputters out a cough, a slight pink tinting her cheeks. 

You skim your wet fingers down your chin and neck, and then over your shirt before rubbing up and down your panties. Agatha’s jaw clenches as she tries to focus on the meeting but her eyes keep straying back to you. 

When you finally move your underwear to the side, revealing your swollen pussy with the toy still inside you to her for the first time, she swallows roughly and puts a hand under her nose to try and look collected. 

You’re about to take the toy out of you, but she gives an almost imperceptible shake of her head, telling you to keep it in, so you settle for pressing the piece against your clit and grinding your hips up to amplify the pressure, a small gasp coming out of you. 

Agatha tousles her hair and reaches down into the pocket of her blazer to pull out her phone and lay it face up on her desk. She taps and the next thing you know, the toy turns on. 

Your hand flies to your mouth to smother the moan that tears itself out from deep in your chest and you can’t stop your back from arching off the couch. Your head lolls to the side, still never looking away from her with glazed-over eyes, and the ghost of a smug smile is on her face. 

She lets you build up, waits until your hips are uncontrollably rocking up into the vibrations, and turns it off. The look you give her must be absolutely pitiful, but you don’t care and she turns it back on. 

This time, the intensity is lower than it was before and you push up your shirt to pinch your nipples to get a little more pleasure. Agatha’s teeth sink into her lower lip as she watches you with dark eyes, fingers tightening around her pen, and you know she’s not paying attention to her meeting at all. 

Little sounds start to fall out of your mouth and you clench around the toy, your movements becoming more jerky and manic as the tension inside your stomach grows. You know you won’t last much longer, she can see it too, and you wonder if she’ll let you have it. 

Agatha flips the page she was taking notes on and scribbles something down in big letters. Without moving her body, she turns the notebook around so you can read it. 

Don’t cum. 

You whine softly, trying to plead with her, but she shakes her head again. And then she turns up the vibrations and your fingers grip onto the leather so hard there might be marks. 

She plays with you, bringing you closer to the edge and then shutting it off and then starting with a low buzz before repeating and it’s torture. You’re a sweaty, shaking mess on the couch all because of her, and you can see how much she’s enjoying it. 

“Okay, great, sounds good,” she says, and your head perks up. “Of course, I’ll see you in the office tomorrow. Have a good night.” 

She slams her laptop shut, yanks out her AirPods and drops them on the desk, and you don’t even have time to think before she’s walking over to you and situating herself between your legs. She shoves her hands under your ass and hauls you forward so you’re laying on your back under her, resuming the positions from earlier. 

Agatha rolls up the sleeves of her blazer, that sight alone making you clench around the still-vibrating toy inside you, and she taps a button the phone she brought over. 

It turns off and she tosses her phone onto the coffee table before taking a hold of the toy and sliding it out of your wet pussy. You whimper at the sudden emptiness and Agatha laughs before her fingers rub at your clit. 

“Please, Agatha, mommy,” you cry. “I need you.” 

But she doesn’t give you any more than that, just traces her fingers through your folds, dips in at your entrance, and just comes back up to circle your clit. 

She shushes you. “Honey, I don’t want to rush. I want to take my time and explore you and figure out what you like and don’t like.” 

It’s so chivalrous, and any other time you would let her, but she’s had you on the edge for too damn long and you can’t take it anymore. “Agatha, I like you, you can do that later, just please fuck me!” 

She chuckles before obliging, pushing two fingers into you and curling them roughly and you moan loudly. Agatha smirks above you and leans down to suck at your nipples and tug on them with her teeth while she starts to fuck you, your hips rolling to meet every thrust. 

It doesn’t take long before you’re a whimpering puddle beneath her, you’re sure your wetness has dripped onto the couch beneath you, but you can feel the coils of pleasure tightening in your stomach and you know it won’t take you very long at all from all the edging you’ve been through. 

“Agatha,” you moan again and she pauses and easily fits a third finger into you and the stretch is delicious. 

She switches to your other breath, scraping her teeth against the curvature of it and then swirls her tongue around your nipple and when she swipes at your clit with her thumb while her three fingers drag against your fluttering walls and with one last perfect curl of them, you cum and it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had in your life, relief finally flooding through your veins, the dam finally breaking after being built up for hours. 

But Agatha doesn’t stop there, she barely gives you any time to recover before she crawls down your body, takes out her fingers, and licks up your slit and it makes you keen. 

“Fuck,” you groan weakly, hands flying to her hair and tug gently and she moans against you, the vibrations going straight to your sensitive clit. 

Her tongue dips inside you, brushing against your walls, and you make a sound you’ve never heard before. “God, honey, you taste so good,” she says, her words muffled by your pussy and when she picks her head up to readjust, you can see that the entire bottom half of her face is glistening. 

Agatha swirls her hot tongue against your clit and then thrusts inside you, making you see stars. You’re still reeling from your last orgasm and you can feel your second one start to creep up on you as she continues her administration, the rhythm of your hips faltering against the movements of her tongue. 

But she keeps having to stop because your underwear that’s pushed to the side continuously gets in the way and rubs against her cheek so she lets out a frustrated grunt and tears the fabric so she can peel it off you without having to move your body.

“Come on,” you joke in reference to the second piece of lingerie that she’s ripped today. 

“I’ll buy you some more tomorrow, sweetheart,” she promises with a wink and then her mouth is back on you, finally unburdened by your underwear. 

Your head falls back again, eyes closing, but she nips at your inner thigh. “Look at me,” she orders and you nod shakily. 

Agatha holds eye contact while she tongues at your clit and you whimper, needing just a little more. But she sees this, knows exactly what you need, and slides two fingers into your dripping pussy again and your walls instantly bear down around them. 

“Yes, fuck,” you groan, feeling better than you ever thought possible with her mouth on you and her fingers in you. You’re so close again, heat vibrates under your skin, and the muscles in your stomach tense. 

And then Agatha sucks on your clit with a particularly hard thrust inside you and it sends you flying over the edge, your vision going dark for a few seconds while pleasure racks every crevice of your body. 

She gently fucks you through it and then pulls her fingers out of you, making you wince at the emptiness. Agatha laps at your wetness, thoroughly cleaning you up, while you squirm because of how sensitive you are. 

“You okay?” She asks when she finally pulls back with a laugh. You are sure that you look absolutely ruined sprawled out on the couch like this. 

You nod weakly. “Yeah, except I don’t think I can move right now.” 

She smirks and bends over to kiss you, letting you taste yourself off her lips. Agatha moans when you slip your tongue into her mouth this time, and you realize you can feel the heat radiating off her so you begin tugging at her blazer to get it off. 

Once her blazer and shirt are off, you pull at the belt on her pants and she huffs before standing up to take them off. She’s wearing matching black underwear and you grab her by the hand to pull her back onto you so she’s straddling your waist again. 

“Mommy,” you plead, not sure what you’re asking for. You just want to make her feel as good as she made you. 

But there’s a glint in her eye. “Will you let mommy sit on your face?” She asks and your breath catches in your throat before moving your head up and down furiously. “God, you’re hot,” she mutters before she shimmies up your body and looks down at your face framed between her legs. 

She reaches down to pull her underwear to the side and holy fuck she is a mess. Her folds are swollen, sticky and shining, you can see how wet she is, and you can smell her.

“Please, mommy, I want to taste you,” you whine and she closes her eyes momentarily to savor how desperate you sound for her. When she opens them back up, the pure heat inside them makes you shiver. 

“Make mommy feel good, honey,” she says, voice trembling, and then lowers her pussy down onto your waiting face. You moan at the taste, at how soaked she is, and you take your time, tracing her with your tongue while she lightly grinds against you. 

Small noises fall from her lips as she starts to ride faster when your tongue curls inside her, the feeling of her warm walls around you making you groan into her muffledly. 

“God, baby,” Agatha whimpers, pulling on your hair to hold you right where she needs you and then grinds down harder, your mouth absolutely coated in her. You can feel her clit dragging against your tongue and you do your best to flick up at it with each drag of her hips and it makes her moan. 

Her legs start to shake around you, with effort and pleasure, and you grab onto her ass to help her keep moving. Agatha’s breaths come out short and shallow and she starts riding you harder, her wetness making a sound as she slides against you. 

You try to say something, you’re not even sure what — it just comes out garbled against her and the vibrations pull a high-pitched whine out of her and you sharply inhale, a burst of heat exploding in your pussy. You’ve never seen anything hotter in your life than her falling apart on top of you and you double-down your efforts, closing your lips around her clit and sucking, her head falling back. 

There’s a slight flush on her neck, a redness that’s spread down to her chest, and you think she must be a goddess. 

“Fuck, hon, I’m so close,” she pants out and you just hold out your tongue while she grinds down hard, over and over, until she cums with a loud gasp.

Her hips shake as she undulates through it and she collapses forward, putting her hands on the arm of the couch so she doesn’t fall on top of you. 

It takes a moment to collect herself, your mouth still full of her as she hasn’t moved from on top of you, and she winces when you teasingly slide your tongue inside of her. 

When she finally moves her thigh over your head and gets off, you suck in a deep breath and she endearingly rubs her thumb over your lips to clean her wetness off before popping it into your mouth. You suck on it, enjoying the way her eyes get even darker if possible, before she helps you off the couch. 

Her gaze darts down to your mouth and then takes in the rest of your disheveled state. “Want to take this upstairs?” 

Does she even have to ask? “Of course,” you say and you think you might be becoming addicted to her, every atom in your body yearning to taste her and feel her. 

She smirks and drags you by the hand out of her study, pausing at the foot of the stairs before pointing to your bag that is still by the front door with a wink. “Better get those toys, honey. We might need them.”

[peachesofteal]

more pizza girl

You're fucked.

It's the only way to explain how you feel, standing in the store, staring at bottles of liquor, wine, beer. You don't even know if this is the appropriate thing to do, but you've always seen it in shows, movies, so it must be, right?

You should have said no to this whole thing, should have told them you're busy, or you're working, or you had plans, but for some reason, you just knew they'd see through it. They'd call your bluff.

So here you were, staring at a rack of wine, trying to pick something to take to their house for dinner.

Even the thought is a marvel. You're not a complete shut in, you visit the few friends you have on occasion, your family, attend work functions, but this is different.

You know it is.

"Excuse me?" A petite old lady chirps at your shoulder, and you turn. "Do you need help?"

"Oh, um... no."

"You sure? It's just you've been standing here for almost thirty minutes." Fuck. 

"I'm fine." It comes out more assertive than you would have liked, and she backs away without another word. Great. 

You choose a six pack and book it out of there.

Their place is cozy. Not too small, not too big, clean and organized, orderly.

Except for the dog.

He's massive. 

And slobbery.

And... not for you.

Simon realizes immediately, and herds him away behind a baby gate, where he promptly slumps to the floor and closes his eyes, tongue hanging from the side of his mouth.

"He's..."

"Ye dinnae have to say cute. We know he's not."

"He's a mutt," Simon tells you, placing a bowl of something hot on the table, "but he's ours. Rescued him an' everything. Never liked pets but... found him on the street an' for some reason couldn't leave him behind."

"That's so sweet." He shrugs, Johnny rolls his eyes.

"Didnae tell me a thing. Just came home with a giant slobbering bear." You eye the table and it's three chairs, suddenly overflowing with anxiety. Which one should you pick? Which ones are theirs? Do they sit next to each other? Doesn't someone always sit at the head of the table? "Take a seat wherever," Johnny coaxes but you remain frozen, avoiding their eyes.

A hand folds over your shoulder with gentle, careful pressure, and warmth. "This one." Simon urges you towards the one in the middle, and you relax, grateful.

"Sorry." You mumble, but Johnny reaches across the table and squeezes your hand.

"Ye dinnae have anything to be sorry for. We're really happy you came."

"I... I'm glad I came too." The admission tries to stick in your throat before you force it free, and they reward you with soft smiles.

"Let's eat then."

Dinner passes in a breeze. It's so easy to sit with them, be around them. Involved in their conversation but comfortable enough to bow out of it too, and just listen. They're very good at navigating it, knowing when to stop and go, when to ask you something, and when to move on.

"If you want to stay for a bit, we were thinking about watching a movie. Afraid we're not really exciting." Simon calls over his shoulder, unfolding his glasses and slipping them on his face.

"Oh." Just do it, do it, do it- "Okay."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah but no... nothing scary. I can't do those." Johnny jerks his head towards the couch.

"Nothin' scary."

Simon doesn't give you the opportunity to stress over the seating arrangement this time, and points immediately to the left side of the couch. "The button down on the side will extend the footrest, and it can lean all the way back."

"Wow." Johnny settles on the other side, and Simon takes up an overstuffed armchair to your right.

Lots of distance. You kind of feel sad about it.

Your eyelids start to droop after an hour, and no matter how hard you fight it, you're in a losing battle. "I think I should go home." You mumble, and Simon pauses the screen.

"You alright?"

"I'm falling asleep." You don't make any moves to get up, instead curling in closer, tucking your hands under your cheek. The room is warm, the couch is soft, and the dog is snoring, which is comforting, in a weird way. "Should call an uber."

"We'll drive ye."

"No, no... I'm-" you yawn. You don't want to move, and when no one says anything, you let your eyes close for a few minutes. Just a few minutes.

In the dark, who knows what time or how many minutes or hours later, a blanket is tucked around your shoulders, shoes slipped off your feet, and someone strokes your cheek, trailing up over your forehead and away, lingering briefly.

"Sleep tight sweet girl."

[pacofprunes]

thoughts on yandere!dae ho?

i think it fits him sm bc he'd be so needy and jealous 😭

you’re right anon, 110%.

warnings — manipulation, yandere content, jealousy, ptsd mentions, noncon touching, short

yandere! daeho headcanons

yandere daeho who can’t stand to be separated from you, both in and out of the games.

yandere daeho who whenever you need to use the bathroom in the games, he tries to go with you everytime.

yandere daeho who can’t stand when you talk to another guy, let alone look at another guy. always finding an excuse to get your attention. making a loud noise or dropping his food on the floor whenever you’re talking to gi-hun to stop your conversation from going any further.

yandere daeho who clings to you at night like his life depends on it. if anybody even comes near your bed he immediately sits up in case somebody’s trying to kill you. constantly paranoid and on his toes.

yandere daeho who manipulates you. he never realizes that’s what he’s doing, he unintentionally does it. he can’t help it. but so what if he is? he just wants the best for you. always shutting down and going silent if you say you’re going to go talk to gi-hun about something in private. when you ask what’s wrong he says you said it aggressively. says the way you spoke to him was very hurtful, causing you to apologize profusely and hug him tightly. a breath of relief escaping his mouth that you trusted his words and now you’re back in his arms again.

yandere daeho who makes you think you’re going crazy. you’re already in this game of death which is bound to make anybody go crazy, but now he’s twisting his words. saying one thing to you and another to someone else.

“daeho, but that’s not what you said.”

“yes it is. are you sure you didn’t mishear me?” he wants you to rely on him and only trust what he has to say. he wants you to think he’s the only one who has the right answers for you, making himself the only one you ever come to when you have a question or need help.

yandere daeho who over time you start to notice him slowly inching a little closer, his grip getting a little tighter as the days go on, so you decide to say something to him. he does apologize, but it’s only to make you feel bad.

“ah, i’m sorry. i don’t mean to be so clingy. i’ll keep my distance.” and then you’re the one who clings to him, apologizing if what you said came across wrong. telling him that he’s not clingy and that you don’t have a problem with him being so close. he doesn’t pay mind to your words though. only paying attention to the warmth he feels around his body from you before reciprocating the hug you’re giving him back.

yandere daeho who uses his ptsd from being in the marines as an excuse to jump close to you and hold onto you. with every gunshot squeezing tighter and tighter.

yandere daeho who when the lights are out and he slides into bed with you, you ask him to go. you liked him as a friend, you two weren’t a thing, so why was he so close to you? you protest to him but he only pulls you closer, shushing you, saying it’s to keep you safe and that with you in his arms, nobody will try anything throughout the night.

yandere daeho who purposely doesn’t bring the ammo back during their revolt. you’d gotten too close to all those people. junbae, gihun, youngil. if he could let them die and play it off as him being scared, he didn’t care. as long as he had you all to himself. not having to share you with a team, not having multiple people to protect you. no. he wanted to be the only one.

“daeho, what are you doing?”

everybody was dead asleep. you were laying in your bed before feeling a dip and turning to see daeho. he pulls you into his chest.

“i’m just keeping you safe.”

you try to push yourself out of his grips but his biceps just flex and stay wrapped around you.

“uhm, i appreciate the gesture, but uh—”

you gulp and take as big as a breath as you can with the little space that you have between the two of you.

“can you lay somewhere else? there’s just not much space anyways, you know?”

he moves one of his hands to run it through your hair and you shiver. it was a kind gesture, and you liked daeho, but you didn’t want this. he was your friend. nothing more, nothing less. he only squeezes you tighter though.

“don’t worry, i won’t let you fall off the bed. i won’t let you get hurt. i’d take a bullet straight through my head before i ever let a scratch even cover your beautiful skin.”

you just shrink into yourself. shrink into him, knowing that it was futile. he wasn’t harming you, so you guess it was fine for now. you take shallow breaths, your chest hitting his everytime you breathed in from the close proximity. you’d think something like this may help you sleep more but it was only gonna keep you up even longer. but maybe that’s what he was counting on. being who you could lean on and trust to save you while you’re too tired to properly play the games the next morning. you didn’t know. you just furrow your eyebrows together, forcing your eyes shut before feeling his head lean against yours, feeling his lips on your head, spreading into a smile against you.

[will-0-w]

CW- smut mdni, thigh riding, petnames such as sweetie used, slight mean sylus, praise, fem bodied reader, size difference, slight teasing

It was no surprise that Sylus’s thighs were big and muscular just like the rest of him, he was a huge hunk of a man after all, standing tall and proud at 6 foot 2 inches. He easily towered over anyone and yourself, always teasing at how small you were compared to him.

So here you were one evening at his place, perched up on his thick thigh, the hard muscle tense underneath you. While Sylus was still fully clothed, you on the other hand were naked and bare in all your glory. His dark, crimson eyes danced over your body appreciatively, drinking in every curve and dip. In his eyes you were absolutely beautiful, flawless or not, you were his perfect beloved.

The dim lighting of his bedroom shone down on you, making your skin glow and seem ethereal. Your smaller hands rested on his broad shoulders, his hands resting on the smooth leather of the couch, not daring to touch you just yet. Slowly rocking your hips back and forth along his clothed thigh, the sensations sending pleasure right to your core as you continued to grind on him.

Your juices were staining the fabric of his sweatpants, making an obvious wet patch appear on them. Sylus tutted as if to scold you, “look at the mess you’re making sweetie, are you that desperate for me?” A coy smile appeared on his lips as he looked down at you. All you could do was continue the ministrations of your hips, chasing that high which seemed so out of reach without his help and frustration boiled in you from his lack of touch.

“don’t pout sweetie, it makes you look like a sad kitten.” Oh how you wanted to slap that grin off of his face but relented as the only thing on your mind was how good your cunt felt sliding along his thigh. Sylus was obviously hard by now, an evident bulge straining against the fabric of his boxers.

Finally after what seemed like hours his large hands splayed over the plush of your ass, easily making your hips move faster, his name fell from your lips, the way it always rolled off your tongue made something stir within him.

As you throw your head back, giving Sylus easy access to your neck, he latches his soft lips to the delicate skin. The smell of your perfume mixed with your natural scent was like heaven to him. You always smelled so good around him it was intoxicating, he never got tired of it. Sylus’s deep groans went right to your core when you tangled your fingers through the silky threads of his hair, he bit down onto your neck, tongue darting out to lick the skin as an apology.

You were nearing that sweet release as Sylus continued to rock your hips, one hand trailing down to rub at your clit which made you moan softly. The sweet sound filling the room, “come on sweetie, let go for me.” He whispered soft praises into your ear. “such a good girl… yes just like that” His words alone sent you over the edge as you felt your release wash over you in washes, your juices spilling out and onto his clothed thigh. “there you go, you did so good for me.” Sylus’s velvety voice ground you back to reality as you came down from your orgasm, slowly he pulled his sweatpants along with his boxers down enough to free his aching cock, tip leaking with pre, “since i helped you, don’t you think i should get something in return as a reward?”

[transformers-spike]

(Not a request)

I’ve been like honestly thinking, what would certain bots call their little human partners? Like I could imagine TFA megs being “my darling” but like at the same time I don’t. Just a random ramble I hope you could help me out here bc it’s been on my mind for a while🥲

I've been discussing this question with @drunkeninlovesailor this morning and we've brainstormed a bunch - so keep in mind we've also come up with a bit of extra worldbuilding (since we don't always vibe with official sources) Honestly, it depends on how well a bot is acquainted with/willing to use human terms. TFA Megatron for example would only use "my darling" if he knows it terribly flusters the human. He obviously looks down on humanity (and this includes everyone but his human - whom he still looks down upon to a degree but shhhhh). If his planet's terms don't have the same impact, then "darling" it is. But if he were to use a Cybertronian term, he would go for "my spark" (meaning "person I cannot live without"). TFP Megatron always goes for something that's a thin line between affectionate and demeaning. Things like "little one" where you're really questioning if he views you as someone he loves or a glorified pet. To be fair he's weird with everyone - any affection he has is mixed with murderous intent. TFP Optimus would call you something that shows his respect and appreciation for you. Not big on nicknames, but I'm sure you can get him to adopt something - be it Cybertronian or human lingo TFP Bulkhead and Breakdown are well-acquainted with human media (thanks to Miko and Knock Out) - but the nicknames they choose are either obscure references or sickeningly sweet to a point it gets ridiculous. Are they aware of this? Mostly Bulkhead - Breakdown would call you cotton candy with a straight face because it's sweet so it must be affectionate, right? TFP Ratchet would refer to you as his associate and later friend until he finally figures out his feelings and admits to himself he's been pining for so long it's starting to take a toll on him. Then he'll start calling his human "my spark" in private, because he's old as balls. But also "sweetspark" if he's feeling playful. Although he's willing to adopt some human terms as well and lovingly mock you by using the most grotesquely cute nicknames when you're alone. TFP Starscream? Absolute disaster. He tries so hard but he's too self-aware about how weird it sounds to call you anything affectionate. Usually everything he uses sounds demeaning even if he starts them with "my" - ie: my fleshbag. Unless you're in private and he's feeling particularly generous, at which point he's going to see if he can use some of the human lingo he learned while scouring the internet. He's testing them out to see which ones work - this can either make or break your boner. He's trying to seduce you not call you his "honey bear" TFP Smokescreen is a virgin who's never been with anyone before (you can pry this headcanon from my cold dead hands) so he's navigating the land of pet names with even less experience. Don't let him use the internet though because he'll probably end up calling you his bitch and see nothing wrong with that. Cybertronian terms tend to be easier. He says sweetspark and acts smooth to impress you, but all it takes is a sultry voice and his entire system needs to reboot. TFP Knock Out has a good grip of human lingo and is the best at mixing human and Cybertronian nicknames. He can easily switch between sweetspark and love - my spark and darling. Heck if he wants to be a smug bitch he'll call you kid/kiddo by saying Newspark.

[midnite-c6]

Watching the daily dose of sunshine makes me think of a au, where nam-gyu goes to rehab and his main doctor is timid!reader, like he’s always teasing you for being so shy and everything!!

I LOVE YOU. SO SO MUCH. sorry guys i gotta confess, i know doctor x patient is weird esp if its IN a mental hospital, but if i was kim seowan's doctor in ddos i would've FOLDED so fast (sorry).

patient!nam-gyu x doctor!reader <3 warnings: 18+, DARK content, dubcon, manipulation (please read at your own risk!!)(kind of a ddos au!!)

*⁠.⁠✧ : he SCARED you so much during the games, how he was killing people left and right (esp during lights out), how he was practically one of the strongest people there. he made you feel incredibly small, he'd constantly mock you, constantly humiliate and embarrass you because you were just. so. quiet! luckily for you, and for him i guess, player 456 successfully stopped the games half-way thru leaving some of the players to stay alive.

for some reason, to everyone's surprise, he'd try to change for the better. as soon as he got that 400 million something won distributed among all the other players, he'd go to some nice rehab center, he was traumatized, definitely. he'd wait patiently for his doctor to prescribe him some shit since he was definitely on the brink of overdosing himself during the games, but when he looks up to see your face, he flinches, and every self-development in his body crumbles as he grinned widely.

"you?" you gasp, your heart dropped from seeing him again. it was like you were the one who needed therapy right this moment. "what are you d- ahem, good afternoon, sir." you'd carefully sit down on the other side of the desk. "it's really a small world." he plops his arms on the table, resting his head in his arm as he gives you the snarkiest smile. "so? you're a doctor..? you sighed, trying to ignore him, ".. it says here in your file that-" "shhhh." he shushed, placing his finger atop your lips. you are now thankful for the desk between the two of you since he's already uncomfortably close to you now. "miss, are you capable of making me feel better?" he'd ask in a voice and expression you'd truly feel bad for, if it just was anybody else doing it. "..you barely did anything during the games, how could you save me?" he tilts his head. you'd only do what you were most familiar of doing, avoiding his gaze and looking down, you weren't like this with any other patients who'd come to you, but nam-gyu truly traumatized your very being.

"tsk." he'd grab your chin to look up at him. "look me in the eye, doctors should be social. right, miss?" your heart would beat faster, his tone sounding just like the ones he'd use during your first encounter. he'd give you that same look of terror, as if trying to make you fear him, which infact works, and you'd sit there staring at him with a big frown! he only laughs after a couple of seconds, "jeez, looks like you need a doctor for your own." his laugh had broken you from that distracted trance, you were a doctor for christ's sake!! "sir, you've confessed into taking alot of substances during the past month, leading to a potential overdose, i'd advise you to stay here to sober up." you say straightforwardly before he could respond anything else. he'd tuck his long black hair in behind his ears and hum, "that was so fucking cute. you being professional and all that.."

---

he did stay, as it was advised by the one and only you, you'd given him check-ups from time to time and you'd see him with the other patients, but one particular day, he'd occasionally crashout, making you keep an eye on him more frequently. he'd call for you from his bed..and as to not lose your job, you'd come in an instant. seeing him laid down, in his hospital gown,. "miss. c'mere.. please." he whined, a 180 of his own character. "yes? sir, how are you feeling..?" he'd reach out to cup your face, looking into your eyes. "i just can't seem to forget... i've watched so many deaths, right infront of my eyes.. " you nod, listening intently, for a brief second you'd feel your utmost sympathy towards him. "and i was gonna get something like ketamine to forget about it again." - he'd cut you off before you could scold him: "..but, i know i'm here to become sober, so.. i wanna know.. what else are you good for, miss?" like a muscle memory, you know what to answer, "obviously-" but he'd cut you off AGAIN. "..and i don't want those stupid medicine shit." he'd pull you in closer to him, where you could feel his breath tickling your face. "c'mon, you were there too, don't you want to forget, aswell ..?" he'd place a soft peck on your lips, letting it linger before lightly biting your lower lip. why didn't you pull away? that's really the big question. why didn't you? you wanted to.. but.. you know very well about his crashouts.. or how he'd act out.. but in these moments you'd find out you're the worst doctor ever.

nsfw below!!-> (⁠ ⁠◜⁠‿⁠◝⁠ ⁠)⁠♡

he'd use up all his remaining strength to pull you ontop of him, letting out a low groan of relief. he'd now keep a tight grip on your hips, knowing that you'd probably gain some consciousness right about now.. but you don't.. you're stupid. you're a fool to his tactics. "oh wow..." his hands would slowly explore your body, with light feather touches. and you'd only stare at him in shock, wondering why you've let him break that patient and doctor relationship dynamic, "fuck. you're even cuter like this." he'd press your body against his, nothing was covering him underneath that hospital gown, so you could already very much feel his everything. to his surprise, he'd see your face contort from the pleasure, whatever's happening right now is just as fucked up as him. "hmm, you like that?" he'd moan out loud, "it's working on me," he'd tore apart your silly pencil skirt, why were you wearing that as a doctor, anyway? his thumb pressing down on your clothed clit. he'd push your panties to the side, making your juices drip on his hospital gown. "let me feel you for real, miss."

it didn't take long, he was so whiny about it too! you could see him biting his lower lip as you fully take in his dick. "miss.. god, i need you." you swear you were gaining control over him, hearing him whimper so submissively, but he knows that wasn't the case, his little whines were so deceiving. you're grinding on your patient's dick right now, but every request of a patient must be returned! and this was his request.. "haah. such a good girl." he'd hold you down against him, "you'd do anything to save your patients won't you? what a hero." feeling your cunt throb for that was crazy, he thought you were crazy.

both of your pleasure-filled moans were echoing inside the room, you'd thank god not one of his nurses would come in here. at such an unfortunate time. his breathy moans were driving you crazy! "fuck.!" he'd finally get to coat your insides with his nut, how he'd make you roll your hips faster to chase out his high, you were much more sensitive than him anyway. "i think.. you've cured me.." he looks right into your eyes so calmly, not matching your exhausted moans. "bet whoever's watching those cctv cameras is jerking it right now." he snickers, making you look up at the camera, oh shit. you'd forgotten some patients need to be watched 24/7. "your moans were so cute, afterall, miss."

guys i NEED TO GET THIS OUT OF MY SYSTEM URHGNS one of my fav imagines everrr i love jaewon sm i love SEOWAN sm and ik he was depressed in that kdrama but i genuinely would let him do anything to me bye. . . 😭 hes so whiny here. i might post part 3 of that one thanos fic, nam-gyu included !! (spoils). someone request myunggi guys!!🥺

[dailyhmsw]

what are The Gang's thoughts on darrell? the Chicken.

mind and the chicken he Didn't Want...... why... does darrell almost remind him of heart? Feathers and Wings and all? how does he feel that They have a chicken of all things?

when did darrell even come into play? wwas the Chicken Always there? has Resident Heart ever seen darrell? what does heart think of a fellow Bird Thing.....

was darrell just found One Day and soul just Picked him up and decided he wanted that damn chicken? Is there a Story to Darrell?

how often do they Dress Darrell Up in stupid outfits this ones important

i have So Much to ask about your thoughts on these Creatures but don't want to bombard you :)

YAYAYAYAYAYYA DARRELL ASK I GETTO SHARE HEADCABNONS I WOULDNT SHARE OTHERWISE OKOKOK

SO outside of universe i know darrell's origins.. i actually read a fic once back when i was still new to the fandom about the Losers finding and getting used to darrell, wherein soul just. conjures him. which is really funny to think about and i adore that fic so much if i can remember the title i'll edit this post to add it

but something within me just REALLY wants an explanation that aligns with the rest of the story. there needs to be MEANING BEHIND THE CHICKEN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! and so i present you with this:

he is technically of soul's creation, coming from a want for comfort and unity. but soul didn't create him on purpose, he just came out of his room one day in the middle of the night to find a feathered ball waddling around the living room. darrell is very soft to the touch and unbothered by most things, and he's more than happy to be cuddled and touched for long periods of time. soul doesn't remember when he first saw darrell but it's been so long it's like he's always been here.

as i've shared before, my design for him is based on a barbu d'uccle.. he's a fat little brown chicken with little mottled spots and feathers covering his little feet...,, he's also a hen. he has laid. eggs. but hms don't really seem to care about that too much

the thing is that everyone loves darrell..,, he often gets referred to as "soul's chicken" but heart and mind love him just as much. he's almost a part of them in his own right; a little beacon of hope, as stupid as that might sound. his presence is designed to be comforting and warm, like he's meant to evoke a feeling of wholeness.....,, soul especially sees him and his brown, almost orange-y feathers and feels an odd connection.

BUTANNNYWAYS to answer the other questions!!!:

mind relates all things animal to heart so he was a little apprehensive of the chicken at first, and the reasoning soul gave for his existence (being a comfort animal of sorts) didn't make much sense to him.,, he came around because having a pet to take care of and nurture felt very good for him, and in exchange he gets to hang out with a creature that Isn't Bothersome [even though it's a chicken, a farm animal - why couldn't it have been a dog or something?]

heart LOVES darrell and he has since the start. he's a very tactile person so, if the chicken is near, he is PETTING thoise FEATHERS. and he does find a little comfort in the beloved pet sharing so many physical similarities with him. unfortunately heart has never seen him, but soul has described darrell to him many many times. he pictures him as a big fluffy brown chicken with dumb little curious eyes and huge wings like his own and he loves darrell so much.

amd OBVIOUSLY they dress him up in dumb outfits OOBBBVIOUSLY it is a pet owner's DUTY to do so at least once!!!! often for holidays and stuff they give him little hats yknow . it is Vital for their Harmonization.

tldr god they LOVE HIMMMM he's sweet he's comforting and he provides them with the motivation to take care of both him and themselves C: and his existence comes from a desire for harmony.. he's the only thing that they will always love together

[allllium]

Perfect for Me

~ Matt Murdock x insecure!reader

~ omg two posts in two days 😮 this is not edited at all so ignore my mistakes

~ Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, WC: 1,679

- Matt comforts insecure reader -

Dating a blind guy is very different from any other relationship you've had for very obvious reasons. Not only is it an adjustment going out with and even living with someone that can't see, but Matt is different. He has senses that other blind people don't which makes things even harder. You love Matt but that doesn't mean it's not an adjustment.

Obviously he can't see you but he knows everything about you. He knows the basics of how you look but not the details. Sometimes that's hard. Only because you fear he has some other idea of you in his head. Like the real you can't match up to the look of you he has in his head.

It's silly, you know, but it's not like you can just get rid of the thoughts in your head. Matt can tell something's wrong, a bonus of his super senses. So far though, he hasn't asked about it. He's learned over time to give you a little bit of time to process your issue before he tries to get involved.

It's not his fault, simply your insecurities getting the best of you. It'll be fine you tell yourself, wondering around the apartment you now share with Matt. Maybe that's where it's coming from. You guys have always spent a lot of time together but now your space is his, and when you want space to yourself, you don't have a separate apartment to hide in. You certainly don't want that but what if he does?

You turn on some music to fill your rattled brain. Nothing loud but enough to distract your thoughts. You soon turn from wondering to cleaning. It's become a daily habit since Matt rarely has time. You have no problem doing it because you know it makes Matt feel slightly better. Not as much dust and grime for his senses to focus on.

You're very ingrained in your scrubbing of the counter when you hear the door shut.

"Hey, Matty." You call out to greet him, not taking your attention off the counter for a second.

"Hi." His faces lights up as he sees you. "How was your day?" He asks, planting a soft kiss on your temple.

"Not nearly as eventful as yours I imagine." You smile, turning around to meet his beaming face. He has already taken off his suit jacket while walking towards you and has began loosening his tie. Giving him that slightly casual look that you know and love.

"I actually think that's true today, though the most amusing part of it was hearing Foggy fall out of his chair not once but twice within a twenty minute period." You listen intently to his words as you finish wiping off the counter. His words get quieter as he slowly makes his way to the bedroom for more comfortable clothes.

You know Matt feels a great pressure to keep the city safe by going out every night, but your favorite night of the week is the one where you've both agreed he stays in. One of the few requests you had when moving in.

"How the hell did he manage that?" You chortle, imagining it in your head. You can hear Matt's laugh from the other room.

"I have no clue, you'd think he'd learn after the first time." He comes back into the living space wearing black sweatpants and a plain t-shirt. After you got together, you had to take Matt shopping for new, plain, clothes considering most of the ones he owned had something stupid and possibly embarrassing on them due to Foggy, bright colors and big slogans. "I heard him whine about it for the rest of the day."

"At least your days aren't boring like the other lawyers."

"That's definitely a plus of partnering with him."

This is the best part of your day. Talking to him about your days and gossiping about the people you know, plus all the people Matt hears about during the day. The only problem seems to be the words that won't leave your head.

"How do you feel about spaghetti for dinner?" You ask him as he grabs a water out of the fridge. Usually, he'd grab a beer but out of fear for his liver you haven't bought any in a week.

"Sounds perfect. How can I help?"

"I can do it, you worked all day."

"Worked is a loose term." He laughs to himself. You and he both know a lot of their work consists of finding new cases.

"You can boil the pasta if you want to be helpful."

"Oh that's easy. It's almost as if you don't believe in my culinary skills."

You turn and give him a stare that makes him smirk. "Matthew, I know what you lived on before I moved in."

"Okay water it is." He gives you get another kiss before searching for a suitable pot.

You hum along to the soft background music as you and Matt work on your tasks. Once he's done with his, he stands right beside you in silence.

"So." He starts.

"So?" You repeat.

"I didn't want to bring this up but I think it's important-"

"That sounds scary."

"For me, yes. I talked to Karen today."

Oh fuck. To say Karen knows your deepest darkest secrets would be an understatement. For Matt to start a conversation like this about her, she told him something. Something you're know wracking your brain to figure out.

It's not that you think Karen would sell you out. But Matt is very charming and sometimes you find yourself telling him things without even realizing.

"I would hope so." You try to play it off like you're not immensely worried about his coming words. "She is your secretary."

"I don't think she'd appreciate that title." He laughs nervously. You know he's nervous because his glasses are still on. He's trying to make sure you can't read him at the moment.

"What's wrong?"

"I don't want it to seem like I was invading your privacy."

"Matt, you always do that. You hear literally everything I do."

"Yes but this feels different."

"You wouldn't have started this conversation if you didn't have something to say so please get on with it."

"I heard you talking to Karen the other day when she was over. And I tried not to read too much into it but then I talked to her today and I'm officially reading into it."

"Karen and I have talked about a lot of things, that doesn't really help me understand."

You try to seem nonchalant by stirring the pasta sauce.

"I heard you telling her how you don't think you live up the version of you I have in my head." He whispers the words as if that'll make it easier. Of course. Out of everything he could've heard, it was the one thing you really, really don't want to talk about. You know Matt isn't going to let this go until you answer all his questions.

"That was over a week ago." You whisper over the sauce.

"I didn't want to make you uncomfortable. But I only heard a part of what you said and I couldn't handle not knowing the rest."

A heavy sigh escapes you. It's not his fault. You are still adjusting to how much he can hear from so far so you didn't even think about that when he came home that day. You also can't fault him for wanting to know more, if the roles were reversed you would've gone to Foggy to know more almost immediately.

"You obviously weren't supposed to hear that." You turn off the stove top and look at him. "I don't suppose we can keep acting like you know nothing about that?" Your words come out with a hopeful tone.

"No we can't. Sweetheart, how can you feel like that? Have I made you doubt yourself like this?" He pulls you away from the kitchen and pushes you to sit next to him on the couch.

"You have done nothing Matt. You're perfect. I just can't get it out of my mind that every time you're complimenting me, it's not actually me. It's the more beautiful version of me you have in your head." He already knows enough, might as well tell him the rest.

"I know what you look like. Maybe I can't see every detail but I know enough to know every compliment I've ever given you, has been for you. I can't see everything on your face but I can sort of see the shape of you."

You're just now realizing you've never actually asked Matt what he can see. Knowing he was blind you always figured he couldn't see anything.

"What do you see?" You ask now.

"It's difficult to explain. I see certain figures but not all the time. It's kinda like flames that prevent me from seeing things but they don't always stay in the same spot."

"So how are you so confident I'm the same that you think I am?" He moves closer to hold your hand and lean more against you.

"Because I've had everyone describe you. Foggy, Karen, even Frank at one point. And I've felt your face a lot, enough to understand the shape of everything. Your eyes, lips, nose. Everything that makes you, you."

"Feeling is different than seeing."

"For other people yes. For me, this is the only way I know a lot of things. It's the way I've learned to know things so I'm better at it. I don't need to see every detail when everything I've felt is beyond perfect."

You feel tears appear in your waterline. Leave it to Matt to know the perfect thing to say. Always.

"When I say you're perfect for me, I mean it. More than anything."

He wipes the tears off your face the second they begin to fall.

"You're perfect for me too, Matty."

"Good." He states. "You're gonna be with for the rest of forever."

"That's a nice plan."

[marscantread7]

Sylus x Plus Size Reader/mc

Slight nsfw mention so mdni please!!!

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

I'm a bit on the heavier side, like. Very plus size, and it's been on my mind for the past few days, like. Sylus w/ a plus size mc, and I'm not talking like average, what the media's idea of plus size is, I'm talkin like actual plus size.

Kinda a self insert, but thinking of mc just like poking and prodding at her skin bc it's just ugh! Like, this shirt just isn't looking right on her... maybe she should just go w/ the hoodie or wear a jacket over it like she originally planned, but here comes Sylus and he's all like, "🤨what r u doing?" And mc turns around and she's like, "this shirt just doesn't look right! Or feel right! None of this would be happening if I was smaller!" And Sylus just shuts it down real quick bc, "Sweetie. Ur perfect the way u r. U look absolutely stunning right now." And mc is very skeptical at first, bc she's literally just in typical lounge wear, but Sylus catches her gaze and decides to show her just how beautiful she is.

Omfg and like, thinking of how strong Sylus is. Like, okay another self insert😛 I'm 5'7 which isn't short, but it isn't necessarily tall either. So like, mc trying to like reach something on the highest shelf, and instead of just grabbing it for her, Sylus will lift her up so she can reach it. Just imagine her gripping onto his shoulders and looking down at him like, "Omg! Put me down, I'm too big!" And Sylus just giving her that look to try that again. "Sweetie, that means nothing to me. I'd be an inadequate partner if I couldn't support u in every way hm?" And just to spite her, he carries her away. Mmmmffffffggghhhh Sylus just randomly picking mc up at random bc he just loves holding her and🤤 Sylus holding her up and just fucking her. Like he doesn't even need to hold her against the wall! He can just pick her up and just go to town, no support.

And honestly another self insert, but I personally hate when I get insecure abt my weight and I'm ranting abt it and people get offended like "Ur not fat Marshall." Like that's such an insulting thing. Like, half the time I don't even mean it in a negative way when I point out my weight, I'm just stating an obvious fact. Like I'm big, that's a fact, u getting offended and acting like it's a bad thing that I'm big just makes me feel worse abt myself, hope this helps🙏🏾

Anyways, thinking abt mc like, criticizing her weight one day. Like, "I just don't see what u see in me. Like I'm not saying I'm ugly, but doesn't my weight make me a bit... unappealing?" And Sylus, oh the loverboy he is... "How dare u! Kitten, ur the sexiest person I've ever laid my eyes on." And he goes on this whole spiel abt how weight means nothing to him bc like??? Why should it? Like, genuinely what's so unappealing abt a little extra weight? If anything, he likes her size personally, and boy does he make it obvious. Always pinching those chubby lil cheeks, squeezing her thighs, resting his head on her stomach after a long day. And don't get him started on that ass😛😛😛 the way it bounces as he's fucking mc from behind. The recoil when he gives it a light smack, signaling her to "stay still baby, I'm gonna cum too soon if u move like that." BOY... like wow! Yeah #needthatNEOW

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

Anyways that's all. Sorry for like the poor grammar and not spelling words out all the way😭😭😭 I didn't intend for this to be as long as it is. I would have written it properly if I knew I was gonna be doin allat. But anyways yeah. This was just one giant thought I had bc it's like ugh! I just know Sylus would treat a big girl so well and squish down and anxieties and doubts she has abt herself and his thoughts on her. Like yeah... this was literally just written for myself😭😭😭

Also ik I use mc, but u can read it as like a y/n or reader type of thing. I just didn't feel like using "you" atm😪😪😪

[endearng]

Little Talks

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader Summary: Spencer's mind play tricks on him. You are there to soothe his fears away. WC: 1.3k A/N: fluffy angst! This is heavily based on 'Little Talks' and it hints at Spencer's fear of mental conditions. Reader is mentioned to be a doctor and they have a kid. I hope you guys like it! <3 | Masterlist

The gentle breeze outside made an equally gentle sound echo through the room. Light comes creeping in, barely illuminating the place, blocked by the big tree outside. The tree could use a swing for our future kids. I'll work on a project for it in the evening. Yes, in the evening, after I have dinner with my wife and my daughter, Harriet. But this sound, this nagging whistle of the air, couldn't let me fall asleep. The stairs seemed to creak as well, all night long, and it didn't give me peace, not like she did—not like anything could, anyway—so I couldn't get any rest. She wasn't laying by my side, something that, on other days, would coat my heart with a thick layer of relief, of happiness. Lately, even my heart feels empty.

I've been losing track and notion of time. It's like the days mash together and they last longer or shorter than they should. It terrifies me. I don't remember where I placed important things. I don't remember some of my life's milestones. I don't remember taking a shower most days. Nevertheless, some days, I do remember her. I remember her laughter and her being angry with me. Some days, I am bold enough to say that I remember everything about her.

The small glances we would exchange when we first met. The tiny freckle on her bottom lip. The way her hair felt against my fingertips. The feeling of our sweaty bodies against each other. The endless happy days, when we would simply hold each other as she read me her favorite books or vice-versa. The sight of her cradling our daughter in her arms, after giving birth to her. The sleepless nights we had spent keeping two pairs of eyes on her, making sure she had everything she needed. The exhausted breakdowns — taking turns to sleep and to watch Harriet. The feeling of feeling distant from her and the feeling of getting her back to my heart, the way it always had been, the way it always should be. The soft pace of our feet as she walked me around the house in the late hours of the night, showing me pictures and the history behind every single furniture in the house. To make me remember it. To make me remember her.

Lazily and a tad bit unwillingly, I get up. I make the bed, I brush my teeth, I take a shower. I change clothes. Today, I did it. I can't forget it. I take notes on what I did so far and it pains me to take minutes to read these ordinary tasks I've performed. Performed... Yes. Sometimes, I don't know how often—which is a pity because I've always wanted to be precise—the most basic tasks feel like carrying a dead body around, all for show and for making amends with my own slowly beating heart, that I did something to help.

Sometimes, said body keeps me up late at night. It takes different shapes, depending on how the day was earlier. Sometimes it turns into a ghost.

The kettle whistles and it reminds me to turn off the stove. As I pour the water over the coffee, I repeat over and over that I have turned off the fire. Then, I made my way out of the kitchen, steaming mugs in my hands. Over her mug, I place a stroopwafel so the caramel melts. I sit by the window and watch kids walking by, talking and giggling. It makes me think of Harry. I light up a candle — it's not cold, but I know she likes scented candles, so I try to make the house as comfortable as I can. She's gonna be home anytime now, and I made our coffee.

The hours go by. Each minute that passes, I lose my mind a little bit, slowly being overpowered by the feeling that something might have happened. Where is she? Where is Harry? I know my wife has long shifts at the hospital she works at, so an emergency must have taken place. She couldn't have just left. And... And, Harry... Harry is possibly spending time at her grandmother's. She loves visiting and having cooking sessions with grandma, so it's not a surprise. But the lack of news, the longing to hear something from them…

The coffee goes cold. The stroopwafel caramel stiffens as it had never been heated.

Is she gone?

Are they gone?

As I will myself to walk around the house, I struggle to recognize things and the ghost of her voice, even if I need to fight myself to keep memory of the sound of her, tells me stories. She tells me our story. Still, the plots of my favorite books are long forgotten. I walk to the bathroom and it catches my eye that only one side of the sink is taken by toiletries. There's also only one toothbrush. It didn't seem to faze me earlier. I don't even think I caught sight of it then.

What happened?

Days go by, blurred together by my loose, fragile, weak grip on reality. I can barely recognize my own expression in the mirror.

It's barely living, whatever this hellhole is. I go to bed early and rise late and feel as if I have hardly slept.¹

—

Spencer feels his body being shaken, softly delicately, lazily. "Spence, darling?”

“Mhmm?” He grumbles in response.

"Wake up, darling. You have a lecture today.”

Suddenly, it's as if a switch had been flipped in his head. He remembers it. He remembers her. He remembers them. The smell of the room makes him feel like he's slept here over the last hundred years. Breathing out a sigh of relief, he engulfs her in a hug, which makes her laugh, and he mutters, "I know. And you have an early shift. And—and we live together, we're happily married. We are parents. Good ones. I take Harry to the library and you give her basically a guided tour everywhere you go together. The kind of parents that take our kid to Disneyland, no matter how stressful and endless the lines are. And it's rewarding by the end of the day because Harry is knocked out on the bed and we finally have some time to ourselves and—and things are perfect."

Her eyes soften. She knows what he's been dreaming of. She always adds something that grounds him even further to reality. "You learned how to make braids when I was still pregnant so that Harry would have the prettiest hair. And tonight we'll go to a parent-teacher meeting.”

He chuckles and she grins at him, knowing they'll be given a lecture about how Harry is brilliant, but she can't shut up to save her life. Spencer hears the sounds in the bedroom next door and he is flooded with pure love. And relief. And gratefulness, to have built and now to share a home with you. She knows, his wife, that no matter how difficult life gets, she will always be the happiest person in the world to have met him, to have loved him. She tells him so everyday, whether through words or actions. Or simply existing — small snippets of her being there always brings a smile to his face. An overpriced coffee, the black tea she likes to drink before bed, the school notes Harry sticks to the fridge because they are hell-bent on giving her a sense of responsibility and participating in her life.

As Spencer closed his eyes, his arms wrapped around your frame, he pictures your face and its expressions. The way your smile reaches your eyes, making them close in the shape of crescent moons... The way your lip would quiver just slightly before you got emotional. The way your lips get plumper after he kissed you relentlessly.

"The sun has risen again, darling. And we will make the most out of today.

He smiles. She knows what it means.

If we're together, we're well.

divider by @cafekitsune <3

¹: a quote from lemony snicket's beatrice letters <3<3

[shockercoco]

Shambles

Feyd Rautha x reader

Warnings - 18+, smut, knife kink, blood kink, fingering, oral (f! receiving, squirting, penetration

Word count - 2783

a/n - request: "Hi! Your fic Bloodlust (feyd) has me in SHAMBLES. 🥵😂 I’m so in love with it!!!!" - read the rest of the request here @mrs-hardy-hunnam-butler-pascalI . I got this request about 4 months ago, but I've just been so distracted with college that, as you can see, I've taken forever to get to it. I do want to be more active on tumblr, but I'm also writing a feature length screenplay on the side. As always, tysm for the love while I've been gone and your patience, and I hope you guys enjoy :)

“Which one do you suggest, my darling?” Feyd asks you, his bare back to you.

You look over at Feyd from your place on the bed, who stands in front of his walls of weapons. His fingers ghost over a few before glancing back at you, waiting for an answer. His injury from his fight is no longer leaking on his arm, but your red handprints are still very much visible on his body.

You know he means to use one of the weapons on you, but hearing him say those words out loud made your throat dry and heat drip from your opening. You feel your walls clench around nothing at what’s to come. “For what?” you innocently ask.

Feyd doesn’t take his eyes off of the wall when he answers, “You know exactly what I mean.”

You hate the fact that this situation is turning you on, when it should be doing the exact opposite. Turning on your side, you point towards a weapon. “How about that one right there?”

Feyd turns his head to look at you, and then follows to where your finger is pointing – the smallest knife on the wall. It honestly looks kind of pathetic next to the others. He smirks to himself already knowing you would choose something like that. “Are you sure? That one’s kind of tiny, don’t you think something more commanding would be more fitting for a woman such as yourself?”

“Big things come in small packages,” you tell him, giving him a small shrug.

You know Feyd’s extremely skilled with almost any weapon in existence, and you trust him enough to know that he wouldn’t hurt you on purpose, but that still doesn’t stop the fact that he’ll be putting an actual blade to your skin.

Feyd’s eyes linger on you for a second, before breathing out a small laugh and removing the tiny knife from its place on the wall. The knife is barely longer than the distance from his wrist to the tips of his fingers, but it’s still sharp and intimidating. He rotates it in his hand, watching in excitement the light catch it, before turning away from the wall.

You feel your heartbeat speed up as Feyd walks towards the bed, his strides slow on purpose as he continues to rotate the knife in his hand. Your gown is gone, but your body still feels hot. He stops right in front of the bed and looks down at you, his smirk never faltering.

Feyd lets out a small hum as his eyes travel up and down your bare body, your soaked panties being the only thing giving you some sort of coverage as they cling to your opening. You would be lying if everything pooling in your panties was from your previous orgasm. 

You shift a little as he stares at you, starting to feel uncomfortable. His smirk widens as he notices your movement. He knows how much you hate his intense gaze – that is when it’s on you. You enjoy watching Feyd stare down his opponent in the arena.

“Should I clean myself up for the lady before we get started?” Feyd questions, referring to the blood stains on his bare torso.

“No,” you don’t hesitate, but watching Feyd’s expression makes you regret how eager you just sounded.

Feyd’s eyebrows raise in amusement. “Well, look at you. You’re changing, my love, and I’m enjoying every second.”

“You’re a bad influence,” you tell him, to which he nods in agreement.

He only admires you for a moment longer before sinking to his knees in front of the bed. You let out a small squeal as he grabs you by the ankles and pulls you towards his face, your legs now dangling off of the edge of the bed. You push yourself up onto your elbows to keep him in view.

Feyd’s smirk seems to turn sinister as he’s now face to face with your covered cunt, his eyes mimic the shade they turn when he’s in the arena. You begin to feel like his prey. Feyd’s mouth waters at the fact that your wetness has made your panties almost transparent, allowing him to see the outline of you and your sweetness pooling at your entrance.

A gasp leaves your lips as Feyd lays the flat side of the blade on the skin of your leg, gently tracing up to your thigh and then to the edge of your panties. Goosebumps form on your skin at the feeling of the cold metal floating across you.

You watch as Feyd carefully places the blade over you through your panties, making your body slightly jump as you feel everything through the thin fabric. Your body feels as if it’s buzzing, and Feyd’s just getting started.

Feyd tears his eyes away from between your legs to look you in the eyes, giving you a questioning look as he looks for any sign of you wanting him to stop. When Feyd doesn’t see anything, he continues his movements.

Given the extreme sharpness of the tiny weapon, it only takes a small press for your panties to begin tearing. Once the fabric has been rendered useless, Feyd tosses it aside and moves his face closer to your cunt, enjoying the way your hole winks at him.

His eyes close as he breathes in your scent, a pleased sound leaving him as he smirks. Your hips jerk as he places a thumb on your clit and begins to rub tiny circles into you, before running his thumb up and down your slit. Your eyes close and your head tips back at the feeling.

“Looks like I already prepped you well,” Feyd says, mainly to himself as he watches his thumb move along your folds with satisfaction. A clicking sound forms from your wetness being spread around.

He quickly dips the tip of his thumb into your opening before pulling it back out and going back up to give attention to your clit. A small whimper leaves your lips as your back hits the bed, no longer having the strength to hold yourself up. Your limbs already feel weak.

You suddenly feel something stiffer and harder touch your clit. You glance down to see Feyd rubbing the tip of the knife’s handle into you. Your mouth falls open as your hips subconsciously begin to move. 

Feyd then slides the handle of the knife through your folds, spreading your lubricant around the handle. He clenches his jaw as he feels himself grow hard from the sight before him and the sounds of your pants growing louder in his ears.

Once the handle seems to be coated enough, he dips it further down for it to prod at your entrance. Your hands grip the bed sheets in anticipation at what’s to come, nerves flooding your stomach as your heart continues its fast pace.

“Just do it al-,” you begin to say, but cut yourself as you feel Feyd apply more pressure and push the handle into your welcoming opening. A gasp leaves your lips at the off yet enjoyable feeling of the ridges along the handle rubbing along your inner walls. Your head falls back against the bed as Feyd pushes and pulls. 

The grasp Feyd has on the actual blade is not too tight, but the blade’s edges are still digging into his palm. Feyd lips part as he watches the handle repeatedly disappear inside of you, the corners of his mouth twitching. He quickly swallows when he feels his mouth start to water in hopes to keep himself under control.

“You’re such a pleasant sight, my love,” Feyd muses. “I could look at you all day.”

But when he says this, he never takes his eyes away from you dripping opening. The grip you have on the sheets tightens as you moan at his words

“Oh my god,” you mewl, your eyes rolling towards the back of your skull.

The sound of your slick grows louder the longer Feyd continues his motions – this just turns you on more. You can feel yourself dripping onto the fabric underneath your body. Your back arches as your hips move with Feyd’s hand. Everything is so lewd and unlike anything you’ve ever done.

“Feyd-,” you breathe out, accidentally cutting yourself off with a whimper. Your body is trembling and you can already feel yourself approaching the end.

“I know, I know,” Feyd coos, finally looking up at your blissed out expression. He smirks at the way the back of your head digs into the sheets, your eyes squeezed closed with pretty noise repeatedly leaving your lips. Feyd notices your squirming becoming more evident and does everything he knows to bring you to the edge.

He suddenly pulls the handle out of your cunt and tosses it aside on the bed, your walls desperately clamping around nothing at the sudden loss. Your eyes open in confusion as you tilt your head down at him. He doesn’t give you a chance to question him before he’s shoving two long fingers inside of you.

“Oh, yes. Yes, yes, yes!” you cry as Feyd curls his fingers along your sweet spot.

Feyd places his unoccupied hand on your stomach to pin your body to your bed and to give himself more leverage to roughly finger you.

“Come on,” Feyd grunts to himself.

It doesn’t take much longer for your climax to arrive, causing every inch of your body to feel tight and loose at the same time. Your mouth opens, but no sound comes out as your eyes widen and roll back.

“Fuck!” you pathetically sob out. The wet squelches of your cunt grow louder as Feyd’s fingers contine.

Your arousal comes out in spurts around his fingers – some landing along his palm and forearm while the rest pools onto the soaked sheets. Feyd tries to prolong your squirting as long as possible, his smirk never faltering as he uses more force to hold your body down. The crazed look on his face doesn’t go unnoticed by you, and you hate the warm feeling beginning to form again in your stomach.

You squeal as you blindly bring a hand between your legs, your thighs closing around his hand. This has no effect on Feyd at all. You choke and pant as you use your shaky hands to try and crawl away from the tortuous pleasure. A deep chuckle leaves Feyd’s chest as he allows you to pull away and watches as you push yourself back to the headboard.

Your chest heaves as you stare at the ceiling to help you collect yourself. This, though, causes you to miss the wonderful view of Feyd removing your juices from his fingers with his mouth. He groans as his lips surround his fingers and his tongue savors your flavor. Your sweet taste doesn’t help the thick bulge growing in his underwear, but Feyd finds the pain pleasurable.

“What a mess you’ve made,” Feyd muses.

The thin layer of sweat covering your body contributes nothing to how deliciously filthy you feel. A constant buzz is running through your limbs and your head feels light. Your eyes catch the sight of the abandoned knife a couple inches from your body – the wetness coating the handle can be easily seen.

You’re brought out of your little daze with the feeling of large hands wrapping around your ankles. 

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already? You would think I’ve trained you better than that with the many nights we’ve shared,” Feyd’s tone is condescending as he talks, his expression smug.

Nothing comes to your mind that seems worth it to say, so you just stay silent and continue to try and catch your breath.

“Come on, my sweet, I know you have more in you,” Feyd purrs as he pulls you back down to the end of the bed.

Just as your heart rate was about to return back to normal, you feel it pick back up again at the meaning behind his words. Your legs feel limp, so it’s easy for Feyd to spread them apart and place his face between them, his eyes never leaving yours.

His warm breath tickles your sensitive opening, causing goosebumps to appear across your skin as you tremble in his hold. Feyd moves his attention to your messy folds, which take up his field of view in such a perfect way. He blows a puff of air onto your cunt and watches as your body jumps and your walls clench around nothing as your arousal continues to seep out.

You can help but let out a soft moan at the feeling.

Feyd sticks his tongue out to give you a small kitten lick before slipping his tongue back into his mouth. Your thighs go to close again, but Feyd keeps them apart with his hands. He tosses your legs over his shoulders to make sure your precious cunt is as close as possible to his face.

“Feyd, baby,” you softly whimper out as you look down at him.

“Will you let me have a taste? A powerful woman such as yourself deserves to be cleaned up,” Feyd teases as his eyes meet yours again, “Don’t you think?”

You let out a small whimper as Feyd begins to place light kisses on your trembling inner thighs. He doesn’t break eye contact as he waits for your answer.

“What do you say?” he questions, hovering his mouth over your drooling cunt.

“Yes, just do it,” you weakly breathe out.

Feyd barely lets you finish your sentence as he dives into your opening, swiping and licking up every bit of your arousal he can find. He begins to thrust his tongue in and out of your opening, making you whine. Despite your sensitivity, you buck your hips into his face, giving Feyd deeper access to you as he holds you tight against him.

Feyd groans against your folds, sending the vibrations through every nerve ending in your body. You choke on a moan as a gasp leaves your lips and your back begins to arch again. Feyd slips his tongue out to place it on your clit, wrapping his lips around your swollen bud and gently sucking before sliding back into you.

It doesn’t take long for you to be brought to the edge of your next orgasm with the way he’s messily lapping at your folds. He feels your thighs begin to shake even more and doesn’t get deterred when he feels you tighten them around his head.

Your body begins to thrash in his hold, but Feyd only tightens his hold on your body as he continues to shove his tongue in and out of you. When you feel Feyd move a hand and place his thumb on your clit, you immediately fall apart – repeatedly bucking your hips into his face as your hands scramble along the sheets to try and find something to grab ahold of.

Only when Feyd finally pulls his lips away from you is when your body relaxes in his grip. Feyd hums as he licks your juices from his lips, closing his eyes to savor the taste. You don’t get much time to calm down before Feyd is removing the rest of his clothing, situating his hips between your thighs, and letting his aching cock rest against your abdomen. 

You feel yourself throb as you look down at his length on your abdomen, watching it twitch and the precum slowly leak from the tip.

“I hope you’re ready for another, darling. After all, I still haven’t had my release,” Feyd sends a fake pout your way. You want to roll your eyes at him, but you barely have energy left. 

“Baby…I can’t,” you whine, and Feyd just shakes his head.

Feyd places a gentle hand against your cheek as places his forearms on either side of your head, trapping you with his arms. He moves his lips towards your ear to whisper, “You can, and you will. I believe in you.”

Your inner walls clench around nothing at his tone and the feeling of his warm breath tickling your neck. Feyd doesn’t give you a chance to say another word before lining himself up with your entrance, meeting no resistance from your soaked and welcoming opening.

The both of you share a moan as he pushes all the way in. Feyd leans his head onto your shoulder, needing a second to get control himself as he feels your tight, warm walls sucking him in. You can’t see the way his eyes roll to the back of his skull and his jaw clenches, before his hips begin to move against yours.

Like what you see? check out my masterlist :)

[strangerthingsfanworkrecs]

Artist Highlight: Jo-Harrington

This week, we're highlighting @jo-harrington! All recs this week will be for her work. @jo-harrington writes for the Stranger Things Fandom, with a special focus on xOC, and xReader fics. She's also a great beta-editor and design all the graphics for her fics! We're highlighting Jo for her incredible world building and strong OCs.

You should check out her Store Manager Verse fics for some great fluff and top-tier retail angst Jo answered some questions about her creative process and her work under the cut

Why Stranger Things?

I’ve been an avid ST Fan since the beginning. My old Store Manager and I watched the first episode in the backroom of our store while folding t-shirts and rest was history. Fic-wise, a certain Metalhead Dungeon Master brought me out of a fanfiction posting hiatus and I haven’t looked back since.

What's your favorite ship (platonic or romantic) to create for?

Platonic is always going to be the Hellfire Club boys. I love writing their adventures. Their friendship is epic and deserves to be explored and celebrated. Romantic…EddiexOC or EddiexReader. I mean, I’ve been an xOC girl since my first fandom. xReader is new for me but it’s almost an extension of xOC. I always joke that I’m allowed ONE epic borbo obsession love of my life per decade and I’ll give them one canon pairing but the rest are OCs.

What's your typical writing process like?

I have an idea, I write it down, I get sick of working on a chapter, I don’t edit, I post. (Which is funny because when I beta, I am a lot more detailed. But for my own work I just need it out of my head.) It might not be the best. It could probably read better or have less typos or mistakes. But it’s always from the heart.

How do you come up with your OCs?

I sit there for a long time and figure out how I can put a part of myself into a story. Oops was I not supposed to say that? Sometimes you think of a character that you just can’t help but want to write. But even if they aren’t a manifestation of your physical self or your personality, they almost always end up being an extension of you in some ways, or something you aspire to be. You also need to add some attributes you hate into them, so that they’re not too perfect and you can throttle them around and make them suffer and not feel too bad/let it become a self hatred thing.

What has been your favorite project so far? Why?

Store Manager Verse. (EMxReader) Retail is who I am and who I’ve always been. I had a mall romance irl that went south. So it was a way to rewrite my past with my comfort character…and also give said comfort character a happy ending as well.

What has been your hardest project so far? Why?

As Above, So Below. (EMxOC) It is a passion project, it is a beast, every chapter takes an emotional toll on me and it takes a month—if not more—to recover. But it has been the single most fulfilling project that I’ve worked on in the 20 years I’ve been writing fanfiction. I've been working on it for about 2 years now. 3 more chapters til the end…I’m gonna be very sad when it’s over.

Have you ever had a creative block? How did you get over it?

My brain is just a beehive that I shake every now and again to get the bees angry. Honestly, the bigger block I get into is self-doubt. I have no problem finding the words, it’s the courage to put them to paper I struggle with at times.

Is there a big source of inspiration for you? Books? Art? Games?

Yes all of the above. But in all seriousness, life experience is the best inspiration. There’s only so much research you can do. Truly for me, the canon characters are the source of inspiration. Then I take from things I’ve done, things I’ve read, places I’ve been in order to take an idea to a fully formed plot.

Is there an upcoming project you're particularly excited about?

Eddie Munson Big Bang. I know you’re gonna hear that a lot. I love creating really ambitious AUs and I think this one is really testing my abilities as a writer. It's a crossover fic, in a way, but with a lot of original plot folded in. I hope I do both fandoms/universes justice.

Is there anything we didn't ask that you'd like to add?

I’m from the Midwest, so thank you for listening to all of my long-winded answers. Haha.

[thelilylav]

In a Darabella mood lately I guess so I'm just gonna rant a bit more about them.

I feel like people genuinely underestimate the effect that Daring had on Rosabella when they get together, because a really common criticism I see of the two of them is that Rosabella doesn't get much out of the relationship and ends up kinda parenting Daring, but I really think this is a misunderstanding of her character?

Rant continues under the cut cause it turned out super long lmao

Now, I'm gonna admit this right now, but Rosabella was a huge favourite of mine when I first watched the show. Her, Maddie, Raven, Cedar, and Darling were my absolute favourite characters, so I do have a bit of bias in her direction. But I also think people don't really understand what I thought was pretty obvious about her personality. She's a huge animal rights activist, but she's also just big on social justice in general, and because of this she's a pretty big outcast among the other royals. They're friends with her, sure, but apart from Darling we don't really see people reach out to her until something goes wrong in their lives, and then they come to her for her to fix it. This is a role I'm sure she's played for the majority of her life, so she's probably used to it by now, but she also just genuinely enjoys helping others. Still, even though she puts all this effort into helping others out and making Ever After a more accepting place, when she actually tries to speak out on problems that she cares about, everyone tunes her out. We see this especially in A Semi Charming Kind of Life. Even Darling, who I would say is her closest friend, does this, although she seems to have mixed feelings on the whole thing, which makes sense considering she's going through her own doubts about the royals at the time.

A little bit of a personal rant here, but when I was a kid I was really into environmental activism. As in, went vegetarian and would try to start up protests for environmental rights and was the head of that club. I also got bullied for it, which didn't really register as bullying at the time, but seeing a character like Rosabella on screen was really refreshing for me, because that is what kids are like sometimes. Not trying to make this too personal, I just wanted to point out that she's not that unrealistically written, because there are people like her irl (like me!). She's a teen, a young teen at that (I think I said in another post she's fifteen cause I thought she was Darling's age, but then her wiki says she's seventeen, so idk how old exactly, but either way she's in high school), and teens are kind of known for having a lot of big emotions about the things they care about, even if they don't express that in the best way. So while I understand critiques against her character saying she's a bit abrasive with her advice, I honestly always saw this as intentional writing, because her telling people what they need to work on (even if they may not have asked for her advice) is part of what ostracizes her from the other royals.

So what does Daring have to do with this? Well, his first interactions with Rosabella are pretty similar to every other royal. He dismisses her and her interests, and doesn't see why animal activism is so important. This changes in Epic Winter. I've got my own issues with how they wrote that special, but I think Daring and Rosabella are actually written pretty well. Daring's going through an existential crisis after Dragon Games, and this leads to him regressing in character a lot, but that's a reasonable reaction for someone who essentially just got told his whole life is a lie. Rosabella sees him struggling, and does what she always does. She helps.

Where people get this wrong, imo, is that she doesn't do this out of a sense of obligation, she does this because that's who she is. When something goes wrong, she tries to help as much as possible, because she enjoys helping others. It's not taxing for her to reach out to other people. Was her advice to Daring a little assumptive? Yeah, but if you look at the interactions they've had in her diary and Darling's diary before that point, you can kind of see why she would think Daring's just another big-headed prince, and wouldn't understand why he's spiraling this badly. The thing about this is that I think she wasn't actually expecting Daring to take her seriously. She berates him the whole special, but he keeps pushing off her advice because he's knee-deep in an existential crisis, and nothing about his behaviour seems to surprise her. That's because she's used to this. It's what every royal has been doing to her for her entire life.

And you see her surprise when he starts to take her words to heart! She's surprised, because she's been tuned out by so many people for so long, and Daring has done the exact same thing to her time and time again. If I had to guess, she was probably expecting him to brush her words off and go about his daily life. But she tried reaching out anyway, because she can't help herself. She saw that he was hurt, and she cares about him because she cares about everyone, so she said what she thought would help or set him on the right path. He rolled his eyes like always, and she shrugged it off and kept trying anyway.

So imagine you're her for a second. You're passionate about acceptance and social justice and you care about everything, and your whole life this has been seen as a negative quality by all your friends until it serves them. So, you accept it. It's the way life is. Then, you see your roommates brother feels terrible, so you try to help him because you help everyone, and you expect him to not take you seriously because he hasn't every other time you've interacted, but he does. He takes you seriously, and it's probably the first time in your life someone other than your parents has actually taken your advice to heart and listened.

That's why she likes him. Their relationship is built on helping each other, I think people just don't see how Daring helps her, which is such a shame. He gives her acceptance and understanding, true understanding, for the first time ever. And to someone like Rosabella, who wants to make a positive change so badly? Imagine how much it must have meant, for her to realise that she actually had an impact on someone.

I dunno, you guys don't have to agree and I'd love to talk about it, these are just some thoughts I've had about her for a while.

[marscardigan]

through the valley, part iii

ellie williams x reader

part i part ii

summary: what if Joel didn’t lie? what if there was more people immune? more people like ellie? more people like you?

word count: 9.7k

warnings: this fic doesn’t follow the original plot from tlou part II. canon typical violence. homophobia. mentions of blood and brutal murder. mentions of strong religious themes. abuse.

Five summers ago

Natalie's hand ran down your abdomen, making your eyes squint. "This is bad. We shouldn't-" The blonde silenced you with a kiss, which you whimpered at. She smiled at you, and suddenly all your bad thoughts disappeared. Still, the knot inside your chest was there. "This isn't bad" She whispered, pecking soft kisses into your jaw. "We love each other. What's wrong with that?"

You and Nat met two years before, when her father, Hugh, and her younger brother came after hearing the charismatic sermons your mother did. You soon noticed that although the teen followed and respected the Seraphite traditions, she did question them. As you did, in secret. So when you and her started becoming friends, you felt nervous around her. She didn't treat you like a sacred goddess, like the rest of the commune. She treated you like a normal being. But was it normal when she sought for your warmth? When she kissed you on the lips? You didn't know. Or maybe you knew, and yet still did it. "Your mother's thoughts about this is what's wrong. Why can men and women do this, and we can't?"

You couldn't answer that question. So, instead, you kissed her again. Because every time you did, your chest stopped hurting. Everything stopped hurting.

Everything changed two months later. You remember it all too well. Natalie didn't come that night though your window, as she always did. You didn't see her all day, either, and you started thinking she may have gone with her father for patrol. But something didn't feel right. You were about to escape to find out where she was, when your two guards opened your door, grabbing your arms and forcing you to walk. You screamed for your mother, pleading to her as tears threatened to come out. What was happening? Why Alec and Rosemary grabbed your wrists so tight?

They took you to the coast of the island, everyone was there, with torches in their hand and forming a circle around a big stick of wood. Nat was there. She was tied up with a rope, unconscious. You remember seeing her father, begging and crying at your mother. She nodded at Jason, and with a swift movement, he cut Hugh's throat. You remember screaming. You remember watching your mother speak about loyalty to the commune. About what to believe. About what was right, and what was wrong. You remember everyone throwing their torches at Natalie. You remember seeing her body burning. You remember screaming and throwing up. The last thing you remember was completely dark.

You woke up later, gasping or air. You were locked inside the chokey; a small, pitch-dark closet with broken glass and nails stuck to the walls. You mourned your friend's death. After hours of crying, you screamed for help. It was your mother who opened the casket you were trapped in. You hugged her tight, but she didn't say anything. Trying to look at her for comfort, you only saw disappointment. She whispered your name, "You need to tell your sins to me"

So you did. For every misdemeanor you did with Natalie, a strong whip was felt on your back. You didn't try to complain, because it is what you deserved. The thing about the whipping was that it would leave a path of notorious marks along your body, so every time you saw them, you would remember your mistakes. Your shouts were heard in every corner of the island.

After telling her everything, she dropped the lash, and made you turn back to her so you could see her. "The lord gave you another chance" Her warm hand found your cheek. "Don't ruin it in misdeeds. You are our salvation, don't ever forget that"

You nodded, and let her take you back to your room. The looks of disgust stopped after a month. They were able to forgive you for what you did. But you weren't sure if you could forgive them.

"Hey" The voice of Ellie brought you back. "You zoomed out for a while there"

You weren't in Haven anymore. You were in a boat with a stranger you just met two days ago. "Sorry, it's just been years since I left"

Ellie nodded, looking at your eyes as if she could read them, "It's okay" You avoided her gaze, focusing on the view behind her. "We're getting close to the harbor. Grab your backpack"

Both of you started your way back to Ellie's first mission: to end Abby and all of her friends. You realized not asking why the redhead wanted that. You weren't sure you wanted to know, either. Hours passed and you followed quietly the girl. It wasn't an uncomfortable silence, at least for you, but Ellie hated silence. So she tried to make you talk. Somehow, your voice soothed her. "You knew those two, right?"

She was talking about Lyra and Edmund. "Yeah, yeah, I know them"

"You are quite popular out there" She giggled. Her smile made you shiver. "You could say that" Was all your voice said.

When the night came, you and Ellie searched for a place to sleep. After making a bonfire, Ellie turned to face you, seeing if you could sleep. She pouted after seeing your winced expression. Ellie lifted her fingers and almost, almost, reached your face to comfort your pain, to try to take it away. But she removed before she made contact with your soft skin.

The sun came up and Ellie woke up, alone. You were gone, and your stuff was too. She looked rapidly at her own backpack, but everything was in its place. She started spiraling, thinking about when you could have left, why did you go, and where could you be now. But every question answered itself when you came back to her eyesight.

"Hey. Brought food" You raised your hand to show her the rabbit you hunted.

Somehow, Ellie felt like she could breathe again since she woke up. She tried not to look too close into this new emotion that jumped inside her chest every time she saw you. "Good, good. Bring it here"

Later, Ellie couldn't stop looking at you, like she wanted to say something. So, you encouraged her to speak. "It's nothing, just... You could've waited f'me. To go hunt together"

You shrugged, "You needed to sleep. I wanted to be useful while you rested". At the commune, no one let you do anything, because everything was already done by everyone else. However, outside the commune, you could show that you werent just the chosen one. You were much more than that. And you wanted to exhibit that with Ellie.

She wanted to tell you that you were useful, and you didn't need to prove yourself. You just needed to stay. But Ellie didn't say anything. She just finished her food. And you were back at the road.

You adored the silence. And being with Ellie didn't change that. What it did change, however, was how much you seem to like the girl's rants and bad jokes. It helped your chest to stop hurting for a bit.

You passed through a familiar face painted in a wall. You stopped in front of it. It felt weird, how much time it had passed since you saw her, and yet you could feel and see her everywhere. Every mural portrayed her perfectly. Ellie stopped too, just behind you. She was afraid to speak. But she could still see how your fear came back to the surface. Her hand reached for your shoulder, but you moved away from her touch. "We should move on" You continued your way. And Ellie still followed. She didn't comment on how the canvas looked exactly like you.

Your head still ranted. And with your head ranting, your senses became blurry, provoking you to not notice a runner close. Ellie screamed your name. You were fast to react, though, grabbing your machete, and driving into its head. You gasped for air, returning to reality. "That was close"

"No shit" Ellie even seem angry for your slip. Maybe she did see you as a burden instead of a companion. If that's what you even were. Both of you were quiet after that.

You and Ellie tried the shortcut you knew to go where Abby was supposed to be, finding a few infected along the way. Ellie showed you her ability with the shotgun, and she discovered how good you were hiding and killing quietly. Turns out you two were a pretty good team, after all.

Between one of those fights, Ellie ran out of ammo, leaving her unarmed and harmless. You were killing a runner when you saw her. Her hand covering her mouth to not make a sound. A clicker was within centimeters from her face. You tried to think fast, and pushed away the fear that rested inside your chest. Throwing a brick on the clicker's head maybe wasn't the brightest idea you had that day. But at least it left her alone. Now that fuck face was coming towards you. You didn't have your bow, and your machete was too far. You only had a gun that Ellie gave you.

You hated guns, everyone you knew loathed them. You also weren't familiar with their use, being raised only using melee weapons. But you needed to protect yourself. To protect her. So you pulled the trigger and fired three shots into his head, and the clicker fell dead on the ground. You ran towards Ellie, who was nastily injured. "Ain't no way that's your first time with a gun" She breathed out. "You are too good"

Scoffing, you took off your shirt, and pressed it on her wound. You didn't notice it, but Ellie's cheeks burned. She preferred to think that it was because of the pain from the injury, and not for the sight in front of her. The white undershirt turned red in a matter of seconds.

"We will have to stay here until that wound is healed"

"But-" "No" Ellie closed her eyes, already tired of your stubbornness. "I am perfectly capab-" "Nuh-uh" "Hey, it's not even that bad"

"Ellie" You warned. "I'll clear the zone so we can stay here for the rest of the day" You got up, and grabbed your bow. The redhead called softly your name, almost like a plea. You waited. "Could you stay here with me?”

You hesitated. You should look for more possible threaths. For more food, more supplies, more-

"Please?”

So you stayed.

taglist!

@vahnilla

[wynnshxfts]

hello!

i found ur page and wanted to ask more about aizawa if u dont mind!! like what does he look like and whats he like and does he have a gf omg what was that

ֺ ۪ 　　𝜗𝜚⠀　come into the water ..

━ aizawa in my dr !!

ֺ ۪ APPEARANCE : He has dark brown eyes with hazel highlights. When his quirk is activated, they glow yellow. You can't see the glow with his goggles on, but I think It's beautiful. His eyelashes are really pretty, It's something that always stood out to me about him. He has a nice facial structure. There are bags under his eyes, I wish he'd let himself rest more. Actually, I'm surprised Mic doesn't have bags under his eyes too with all the work he does. He doesn't care much for his appearance, which is a shocker because he looks so.. anyways. His hair is usually messy, but he does in fact comb it - It's just thick (if that makes sense). His eyes are tired and cold. I'm not sure if anyone else notices, but I love when they soften. His lips are dry, and Mic will leave chap stick on his desk sometimes. He has no clue who's doing it and sees it as an insult. He's always wearing his scarf - and he looks naked without it. One time I blew on his neck while It wasn't on and he freaked the fuck out. He likes wearing black, but he isn't restricted to it. Mic and me try and take him out to shop but he absolutely hates shopping. Cannot blame him because I do too. Mic on the other hand loves it. He also has horrible taste in shoes, sorry bud. He smells comforting. That's the best way I can describe that. When we drifted apart briefly after high school, I had a hoodie of his and I kept it. Very sad day when it stopped smelling like him. He has big hands, at least, bigger than mine.

ֺ ۪ HABITS : He scratches at the scar under his eye a lot. I can never tell if It's actually itchy or a nervous habit. One time I caught him doing a grounding exercise, tapping his fingers against his thumb and counting back and forth. I notice he scratches a lot - his hand, his palm, his neck, his head. He doesn't have long fingernails. Odd detail I wanted to add. When he's annoyed he taps his heel like an angry bunny. If you point it out, he'll stop.

ֺ ۪ ABOUT : He's very sweet, don't let his tough exterior fool you. He's so caring. He doesn't let himself get close to people, so his relationships mostly consist of those who do put in that effort. He has a big heart, he always has. Sometimes I wonder what it'd be like if quirks didn't exist, would he let others in? Anyways, he is single. I don't think he's ever been in a relationship, actually. He tried dating someone once in high school, but I don't think that counts. He's very unsure when it comes to that stuff. He's always to the point and doesn't stand for any nonsense. It's funny, because in high school he wasn't much of the voice of reason. He usually got just as caught up in shenanigans as others. He does small acts to show he cares, like letting people he's comfortable with fall asleep on his shoulder (which isn't as romantic as it seems. it hurts like hell afterwards.) and .. well, It's hard to explain when you don't experience it in the moment. But he has a softer look to his gaze when he does acts of kindness. He also is actually very bad with eye contact on occasion. Like when he's doing something sweet he'll keep his gaze off of me. Unsure if he does this with others.

ֺ ۪ He isn't much different than canon. But then again, I might be forgetting to add stuff because I already view that as apart of him that everyone knows. If you have any more questions, ask away! Also a small note, but him being single is a running joke Midnight always brings up. She also likes joke shipping him with others he's even slightly kind to together. Bi icon, ily Midnight. Oh, he also has some scars on his chest. Do not ask how I know this.

[linics]

comforting bllk characters

featuring : i. rin, m. reo, m. kaiser

a/n : hi so ummm im back .!!! did you guys miss me ?? anyways my writers block was HORRIBLE but im recovered now i think. let’s ignore how ooc kaisers probably is because its based off of fics ive seen + edits. i’ll redo it later.

i. rin

as i referenced in the one where they comfort you, rin would be very closed off emotionally. even so, he’s like a fucking book with how he behaves.

it doesn’t take you long to realize just how much the u-20 game affected him. as much as he tried to turn his annoyance into motivation and actually doing something with it, sometimes it would become too much. whether that looks like him overworking himself or lashing out, it’ll always show through.

the most you could do is make sure he stays safe during it. showing up to the field at weird hours, ruining your sleep schedule, just to give him more water and a ride home considering he ran all the way there.

“why’re you here?” he’d scoff, panting slightly from all the work.

“woke up early, thought i’d stop by,” you lied, yes, but it was fine. he didn’t need to know you’d set at least 10 alarms to make sure you’d wake up and stay up.

he didn’t respond, so you just handed him a large water bottle. it was a spare, but it also was the biggest you’d had, so it’d have to make do.

“thanks.” he mumbled, his voice barely audible. the cold barrier that’d been there slowly flexing and melting away.

he wasn’t someone that you could just befriend instantly. every time the two of you hung out, you’d have to prove to him that you were there to stay. it was gradual.

most people gave up after the first couple of times when they realized they were practically back to where they started. that was except for you.

after taking a few sips of the water, he hands it back to you, not wanting it to interfere with his training. you grabbed it from him, then wandered over to the sidelines.

“where are you going?” he asked, though, if you paid enough attention, you’d notice he was anxious. very anxious.

“just over here, i don’t want you to hit me..” you said calmly, trying to lighten it slightly. you were careful to not wander too far from him.

he didn’t say anything to you afterwards, but you noticed the tension loosened again.

even though he wouldn’t let you interfere — which you have tried — he’d still let you care for him. maybe he knew it was because you’d get anxious and blame yourself if he didn’t let you help in some way.

m. reo

he would be anxious. i don’t care if this is ‘out of character’. for the most part, yeah he doesn’t stress much because he hasn’t had much to worry about. but the second he gets stressed out, he stresses, a lot. and because he hasn’t been exposed to much stress, he’s absolutely clueless on how to cope.

he’d be laying in bed — at his desk now? nope, he’s pacing. point being, he just can’t sit still, and god, he won’t stop babbling about nonsense.

“reo.” for the hundredth time, he’d cut you off completely. this was coming from the guy who felt it was rude to type when other people were typing, so you let it slide.

“and then — oh yeah, did you say something?” finally, some recognition.

“come sit down in front of me,” you pat the bed, clearing off the blankets so he could just crawl in. he did just that, sitting in front of you, his back facing you.

“like this?” he was always so hesitant with you. but you just responded in a hum of approval. you carefully started combing through his hair with your fingers, occasionally grazing his scalp and briefly massaging it. his hair was silky and clean.

he became quieter, his muscles slowly relaxing and calming.

“so, you wanna tell me what’s wrong?” you spoke quietly, careful to not ruin the calmness of the moment.

“it’s nothing big—” you stopped in your movements as he said that, and he knew that meant you were displeased.

“okay, okay, fine..” he mumbled.

m. kaiser

okay so.. i feel like now’s the perfect time for me to say i have not gotten to where he is in the manga. um! so what i planned to do for this is write how i think he acts, then correct it later on whenever i do catch up. i think i get him a bit though ?? currently i see him as a self destructive possibly alcoholic man. who takes after his dad who was abusive and an alcoholic, mom wasn’t in the picture. no clue how any of that relates to soccer but sure! i’ve heard a lot that he hits himself / chokes himself as a way of coping (after doing some research it’s for ideas. okay.) so that’s the route we’re gonna take with that. no clue if it’s true or not.

he really didn’t get it. no matter how much he tried, he couldn’t figure himself out. how was he supposed to understand others and beat others if he couldn’t even understand himself? he needed ideas—

was it illogical? yes, absolutely. did it work? also yes.

adrenaline from anything could be put to use to benefit. so, he did the thing he’s done for ages. maybe he’s began to rely on it for too long so he reached to it for the smallest things, he didn’t really care, though.

it worked, and until it stopped working, he wouldn’t stop abusing his body for his brain. it was nothing more than a vessel, anyways.

“kaiser.” even through your voice, his choking movements didn’t falter.

“just fuckin’ stop for a moment-” you were the only person he really let talk to him like that, even though it wasn’t often that you took advantage of it.

it worked enough for him to stop, just for a moment and catch his breath. it’s not like he wanted to pass out, anyways. the second he let go, you grabbed his hands.

“what is it?” he huffed, his voice groggy and rough.

“don’t do that. ‘what is it?’, you know exactly what it is.” it wasn’t uncommon for you to be mad at him or mildly rude, but even keeping it up for this long was abnormal.

“it works, well, it would’ve, if you didn’t disrupt me.” he rolled his eyes.

“that’s not the point and you know it.”

“then what is it?”

there was a silence for a few moments before you just decided to ask outright.

“what do you need help with this time?” you were still a bit petty, but you just hoped he wouldn’t pay too much attention to it.

“doesn’t concern you.”

“i’ll make it concern me. tell me.”

“why would i do that?”

god, was he always this annoying?

“okay, fine, whatever it is, i won’t interfere. how about you tell me, and if i can’t think of a solution by tomorrow, you can do whatever this is.”

there was another long silence as he considered it. it was appealing — all he had to do was tell you, and you could do all the work. the backup was there and it was exactly what he wanted. there wasn’t much time left in the day anyways.

“fine. tomorrow first thing.”