#i try not to compare but its just frustrating cause i know others struggle way more than me. and are more successful too

[mintyvoid]

I wish i could drop 1.5k on a laptop. I wish spending money prompted me into marketing commissions. Even when i wasnt getting money from the gov or job, and was watching my savings dwindle...it never pushed me enough to start asking for money or making a com sheet or streaming or freelancing

And i wish it did, i wish something would motivate me to do it, to actually follow through.

I legit dont think even homelessness would do it.

Im so tired of working and seeing no results but needing to keep working for the chance of results. It seems like such an impossible battle.

And i cant tell if the issue is my disability/mental illnesses or if im simply not trying hard enough. That the problem is me, my stubbornness or what have you, or things i cannot change or have control over.

Should i be able to succeed with what i have? Am i really not trying hard enough.

Or do i lack something, something i dont have access too and thus shouldnt beat myself up over my constant failure as a person and artist. And the fact that i dont have it isnt my fault.

#minty rambles #tw depressing stuff #rant #vent #srry j ust having a hard time rn #well really im always having a hard time lol. #if youve seen any of my other rants this has been a constant for me for 5 years #i cant seem to break out. i dont have the tools #and to get the tools i need money. but i cant get money because i need tools. but to get the tools i need money #or i just need to shut the fuck up and work with what i have. i dont know which is correct #i try not to compare but its just frustrating cause i know others struggle way more than me. and are more successful too #so it makes me think that im doing something wrong #aaaaaaa

[dilfl0v3rss]

CAN WE PLS GET A onyankopon X BLACK READER FANFIC IDC IF ITS SMUT OR FLUFF PLSS

i gotchu boooo. i decided to do the fluff about the reader’s hair not cooperating bc as a black girl ts get real stressful😒

hair struggles

summary: ony comforts you when you struggle to recreate a hairstyle.

cw: fluffff

word count: 678

“cmon baby we gon be late” onyankopon sighed in irritation as he watched you try to redo your hair for the third time today. “if my hair not right we not gon be going nowhere” you were trying to redo a hairstyle you saw on tik tok a couple days ago. the first time it was attempted you looked perfectly fine, but of course that was on a day you had nowhere to go. now that you have this barbecue to be at, it seems like god thought it was the perfect time to play with you.

“ma dukes said she got plates for me and i’m not ‘bout to let them get cold cause you don’t like your hair”

you rolled your eyes at your big ass boyfriend, continuing to fix your hair. it’s not like the style was hard. it was a simple half up half down with a swoop in the front. this should be easy compared to the other styles you’ve tried, but your hair refuses to cooperate today and your swoop just won’t slick down.

“just leave me. i’ll take my car to the house okay?” you mumble as your eyes began to water. ony knows that when you feel your hair doesn’t look right you start to get so frustrated to the point where you’d give up on whatever plans you have for the day, but he seen no reason for the both of you to take separate cars to the same place. he was also really hungry and refused to let your moms great cooking go to waste.

“mama it don’t gotta be slicked all the way. if it waves up a little who really gon care.” ony remembered what you always told him about your curls so he added a lesson you taught him “you told me that wearing slick styles all the time can mess up your curl pattern anyway so what’s the issue wit just leaving it a lil wavy?” he says with a smirk, using your own facts against you. you knew he was right and didn’t really feel like driving so you wiped the tears from your face. you loved how ony always listened when you would talk about your hair whether it be about the products you used or just random facts.

“you right boo lemme finish up so we can go. i know you hungry as hell.” you sigh as your boyfriend smiled. he began to walk out of your shared room to go put his sneakers on at the front door. ony was wearing grey nike shorts with a white tee and his gold chains. it was a warmer day so he decided to throw on a his black fitted to hide from the sun and his space jams . it was the typical barbecue fit and you were expecting to see your brothers and cousins wearing a similar, if not the same, one. you decided to wear a grey romper with black sandals. a simple outfit since you could expect that you’d be walking around a lot and didn’t want to get really hot.

as you finally finished your hair you seen that it still wasn’t slicked down all the way, but you decided to just leave it after you remembered what your man reminded you. you smiled to yourself as you noticed that you didn’t even look bad and you overreacted a bit, walking out of your room to meet your boyfriend by the door. “you ready?” he said nervously, hoping you weren’t still upset. “yea baby let’s go before we late.” ony smiled, happy that you listened to him. he actually thought your hair looked better than the tutorial and began thinking about how your waved up hair kind of reminded him of the waves he had when he was younger. he was going to tell you that, but decided against it, knowing that you’d probably look at him crazy. “good because you look beautiful princess. now let’s go before all the food gone.”

#aot onyankopon #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #aot #x black reader #onyankopon x black!reader

[rin-and-jade]

Gripped by Glue Trap: a Post about Front Stuck & Lock

I get it, there's no such thing as an actual big glue trap with being stuck outside as a system,, but oftentimes its gonna feel that way because whatever was done... that glue won't even struggle one bit, only we do. That frustration is what we all have when switching is not an option.

But do you ever think this glue is defeatable? It latches hard and wears you out the more you try to get out of the situation,, so you might think not.. yet i do! That's what this post is going to be about folks, getting your little bug-self free with my secret trick from another human glue trap ensnared in their house.

But.. what is it actually?

Generally, as a system, we facilitate each other's strengths and weaknesses by switching in and out, as all those parts are not wholly integrated compared to a singlet. And. Uh oh. You're stuck and can't get out? You're trapped!.. that little drop of sap caught your leg and now you couldn't leave, even if you wanted to. Though you still can express to your buddies that you need help or etc. (and, this is called front stuck)

Or sometimes, we can even get stranded away from our pack (as in stress, or anything that worsens internal communication), wondering alone, and stood on a nasty manmade trap that caught you without mercy. This time, you're immobile and out of reach to call for reinforcements (now, this one is called front lock)

Sap? Glue? What's the diff??

To put it simply, being stuck means being unable to get out from the front or surrender the control to another part. While being locked off is the worser version of being stuck because not only you cannot surrender the control, there is barely any stream of communication you can connect to, or nonexistent, head silent and all that.

The only similarity they have is how it greatly impedes the fronter's capability to ease in or out from front,, if not, impossible.

These two also happen for different possible reasons, such as:

↓ Stuck ↓ 

Unfinished tasks

Goal/wants not met yet

Ongoing role duty (for protectors, hosts, etc)

Reluctance handing control/fear of blacking out

Mild stressors (like anxiety)

.. and more

↓ Locked ↓

Dissociation

Fight/flight response

Overwhelm

Bigger stressors

Major life changes

Re-occurring trauma

.. and more

Just a reminder that all systems are different, and these same reasons that causes to be stuck/lock will result in an opposite reaction such as rapid switching or being blurry! This post is mainly for those who experience stuck/lock.

Then, how do i get my leg out?!

I can tell you that, but i have to explain how this ordeal happened in the first place so it'll make sense, bare with me;

You know the parasympathetic (rest) and sympathetic (fight/flight) response, yeah? These two responses flicks on depending when there's safety or presented threats. Now, DMN is a part of the parasympathetic response, the full name is Default Mode Network, which is fully responsible for.. well.. default stuffs such as mind wandering, planning, thinking inwards,, those typical things that happen when you're bored. This is also the reason you why can facilitate better communication with other parts compared to when, let's say, being busy with tasks.

Know it or not, sometimes our mind has to wander a little bit in order to chat with other parts of ourself, and stress snaps us out of that relaxed state in purpose of focusing whats at outside, rather than inside, which where everything system-y lies at. Some do not get affected and still can function as-if, so understand how your system works and use that to the advantage.

How to hack yourself from fight/flight to rest mode again? Via vagus nerve stimulation! Not sure if you ever heard of this word, but the vagus is one part of the cranial nerves that is responsible for the activation of this parasympathetic response..! It's like the oil to the glue, because it hijacks the adhesive properties with something so viscous that it binds to it instead of you!! --

Here are some activities you can do to disable the glue:

Gurgle water, hum, or sing: this is because the vagus is located around your neck, and can be easily stimulated that way.

Watch something: redirecting yourself with a distraction can ease you temporarily, giving time to calm down, which brings you out of the grips of stress.

Listen to music: another way if you don't have anything to watch, even better if you put on soothing, slower songs.

Move around: get those pented up anxiety or restlessness out! movement equals expression, this also activates the vagus nerve.

Breathe deeply: rebalance the vagus by breathing in and out slowly, this nerve is also responsible for your breathing pace too, so giving a little push of balance will create a domino effect for your nerve to work.

Unfocus your eyes: or, another way to do it is to focus more on the peripheral vision rather than the vocal point. This is a way to poke the same nerve's functions, oddly can work as a booster to make yourself slightly dissociated/disconnected which facilitates switches or a general break/distraction.

Solve/asses it: it will be nothing if you do not tackle the thing you are very stressed out about, which can extend how long you'll be stuck,, so use these tips above to regain self control and tackle them with me, or your trusted friends, or even alone after examining what could be done! Talking to someone also helps, even if there's nothing productive being done.

Take it easy and break it down: this one is if you're on a role job and things are being difficult, incase you're overwhelmed, remember to do it step by step, no need to be rash about getting back in first, that time will come as long you focus whats in front.

Remember, fight/flight brings us out from clarity and rational thinking, thanks to our limbic part of the brain who is primed for survival and instincts. Be more gentle with yourself, as you could be more irritable, moody, or resorting to less-safe coping mechanisms, focus on calming down before proceeding the situation.

Takeaway

So, what will you do if you're stuck next time? Don't forget to make a plan to deal this sticky situation, especially for those who are often stuck, this practice will practice your vagus nerve to be less susceptible, turning off because of stress,, giving you a better stress window and tolerance before succumbing once more.... to the good ol' glue.

Lastly, it is possible to be stuck/lock for months or years, which is an indicator of underlying long-term issues that needs to be addressed. If anyone needs some tips for this, ring me on the DMs as these practices rarely work for this type.

Oh, and, what do you guys think? What else i had not mentioned? Do you have anything to discuss with me on this topic? Let's do that! I hope this suffice in helping you tackle the next time problems arise.

Happy straddling lil' ant.

- j

#did #actually did #did community #did osdd #did system #dissociative identity disorder #sysblr #plural #system stuff #jeducates

[adelheidvonschicksal]

Sorry its me again from the matter manipulation request I forgot to add their personality.Their personality is more like Quiet,calm I wouldn't call them a villian but they are also afraid of their own ability and they can't control lets say that they're a 2nd grade because they struggle with manipulating matter even tho it's like POWERFUL but they just struggle with it.

(Their power is like atom eve but they can control humans aswell since they can control atoms and molecules like changing ppl,their dna and stuff)

Gojo

Back in high school, he’d find ways to annoy you the most, not because he didn’t like you but because for a long time he thought you were shy and needed to get out of your shell.

He also was curious about your powers: always asking if you could make something smaller or bigger for him, make regular tea into boba tea, if you could shrink all of them and possibly start a war with the giant ant hill in the courtyard. Mostly it was just to tease you and get you to talk to him even if it was you constantly denying his requests.

He finds your low confidence in your gift a huge waste of potential, and it’s a bit frustrating for him to watch. He thinks you should have more confidence in yourself.

Even still, he knows you well enough by now that he has all your little worries and habits pegged whether it’s itching, nail biting, tapping, he can see all your nervousness, and also make it disappear with a single inappropriate joke.

You’re a calm and quiet person, which he says makes it much more special when he’s finally able to crack a smile from you or get you worked up over some dumb scheme he’s concocted.

Well into young adulthood, he continues to bug you about doing silly little things with your powers for him. He doesn’t think you picked up on the fact that he asks for these little things to help you practice your skills and new abilities without you noticing.

Geto

Geto is really fond of you. He has been ever since you notice him making a disgusted scrunch after choking down curses on a mission, and how you used your powers to literally make them an easier pill to swallow by shrinking them.

He finds you to be a soothing presence like Shoko, another calm compared to Satoru’s storm with Geto himself somewhere in the middle. It makes a good dynamic.

He spends a lot of time trying to help you come to terms with your power. He always defends you when Satoru would use your fear of your power against you in petty fights.

Suguru is always trying to make sure you’re comfortable with everything going on around them. He tries to make sure you don’t get teased too much, and he always has a calm way of talking to you that convinces you to join in with the others more. You’re observant of everyone else so he wants to return the favor and look out for you too.

He swears you have nothing to worry about when it comes to using your powers. If things go wrong, he’ll help you figure it out. Although, he does enjoy how happy you get when you get something right, likes to pat your head.

After he defects from Jujutsu High, he gives you the offer to come with him. You wouldn’t have to feel pressured to use your powers anymore if you did. He wants all sorcerers to live a free life especially you. 

Nanami

Your personality makes you more favorable to him than other people. He knows your potential is strong and respects you for understanding, accepting, and trying to manage yourself to avoid hurting others. It’s the slow and steady method. However, this still causes him to underestimate you at times and overly worry about your mental wellbeing.

He does his best to protect you and give you direction, taking the lead even when your technique is realistically better for most situations.

You have to study a lot to learn all the different things you can do with your technique and so you both can bond over being readers and take each other’s suggestions on books or television programs.

However, there’s not really any other times where the two of you can be around each other a lot due to your grade difference and you’re both not the type to seek others out unless you need something so the relationship remains at a respectable level to friendship.

Megumi

The two of you get along fairly well since you’re both quiet people. However, that means that when you spend time together, there isn’t much talking as there is enjoying the company of someone else, which causes the two of you to get teased a bit as a quiet duo.

You’re both the second grades in your group, and you both got mental hangups about your powers. When Megumi notices this in you as well, he tries to help out, repeating what Gojo says about being greedier, but he gets a little embarrassed and says to ignore his rambling when you still seem confused by it.

He enjoys working with you, your powers open up endless possibilities to use in battle, and he wants to be able to think of more creative ways to use his powers in the way that you can so he finds your technique pretty/interesting to watch.

Megumi is a little more self-conscious around you. You’re very quiet and calm, maybe serious, he isn’t entirely sure because you don’t speak your mind a lot. He doesn’t judge you for it because he can be the same way.

He doesn’t feel the need to pressure you into speaking more than what’s comfortable. When you become better friends, he realizes he likes having your company without the pressure to entertain you.

He thinks you’re the best one in the school who can understand all of his worries. Itadori and Kugisaki understand him well, but he thinks maybe with you it’s more mutual), or at least he hopes he’s the same for you. 

Extra: You’d probably be able to learn from Yuki Tsukino as well. She doesn’t exactly have matter manipulation, but her mass manipulation technique could probably inspire some ideas. It would also lead you to being like teammates with the ever-boisterous Aoi Todo.

#megumi x reader x yuuji #geto x reader #nanami x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #megumi fushiguro x reader #getou suguru x reader #nanami kento x reader #gojo satoru x reader #head canon

[tarjapearce]

Hey, I wanna say i really really like the way you write fics. It feels??? Natural?? To read it?? Always an adventure everytime I read a fic of yours.

How do you write so good?? I'm a writer as well and I'd love to hear your tips and tricks ^^

First of all, I wanna thank you for liking the crap stuff I write. (Cause I'm genuinely amazed some times that people just like it and I'm not saying this because.)

⚠️⚠️LONG AND POSSIBLE CONTROVERSIAL ANSWER AHEAD ⚠️⚠️

It's kinda funny, ngl. Lemme tell you something, I don't know if you guys struggle with Impostor Syndrome a lot like me, but everytime someone gives a compliment like this my brain just goes into self sabotaging mode.

In the outside its :

But in the inside, my brain immediately goes:

Cause I'm aware that I can do better. (And we will ~) it's weird. I'm always striving to do better.

As for the tips and tricks, I'm surely not the right person to ask advice from 😅, but Imma just tell you this from what I experience and from my perspective (Hopefully won't get backlash from this, if not, R. I. P. me jsksj) Be warned though, it's kinda contradictory cause writing is hard yo!

1. You gotta read. Either books or whatever your favorite genre is, but you gotta read. I consume fan fics and non fanfics cause you learn from other people too. I read fanfics mostly to know new words, how the character develops and the like.

I read more spanish stuff than anything. Which I try to transfer to what I write.

2. I try to keep it as simple as possible. With that I mean to not over embellish words cause it gets boring and weird. Sure, everyone wants to make their fanfics pretty (nothing wrong in that) but sometimes I feel that less is more. Like, nothing wrong if you wanna poet the f- out of your fic. (THIS IS A DOUBLE EDGED ONE SO BE CAREFUL!!)

I mean there is a huge difference in reading:

"The anger and frustration on her way of living was taking a toll on her mind"

and:

"Her nemesism had muddled her mind into an endless spiral of what ifs and what not, and frankly if her mind could speak, it'd beg for a break."

It's hard to pick one style, but as long as you keep it consistent, I guess it's all good (?) (Funny cause I always aim for the second one and end up in the first jsksj and I dont even know myself if I'm keeping it consistent)

3. Get yourself a beta reader that doesn't coddle you. It helps alot!!!! Cause again, compliments sure are nice, but they don't tell you where you could get better. ✨( Unless the reader provides puntual feedback on what they liked and what not. Those are my favorites and a rare gem ❤️)

4. I know this one is hard because everyone at some point have done this. But IF YOU COMPARE yourself to other writers? You'll lose yourself. Not only you'll lose motivation cause you seem unable to write like them, but you will fall into this... vicious circle of self deprecating and burnout. And the self doubt sky rockets nonstop.

Everyone is different. Everyone learns in a different pace. Trust me, I wanted to make great stories with a good looking writing when I had the slightest idea of what I was doing (Still do!) 😂. Writing fanfics is not a competition to who writes more beautiful/good/professional than others. Or who has more notes or the most canon-stuck character, or the cause let's face it, none will get a character's personality to a 100%!!! (And that's ok cause it's fanfiction and we all have a different approach to the character either emotional or mental) .

Personally for me, the cockyest thing someone can do is to claim to know a character more than the creators themselves. Kinda rude for me, if you ask . Like, sure feeling a deep connection with a character doesn't mean it'll grant us instant access to their whole self. Characters just like us evolve. Either for the good or the bad, but they don't remain the same, so knowing them completely is a big fat lie. Unless stated by the creator. (But we're delusional in this site, so~)

I mean, sure characterization is something we all struggle since we guide ourselves by some of the character's most prominent traits and make them their default personality. (I've sinned in this jsksj so don't worry)

5. HAVE FUN AND TAKE BREAKS. I mean it. The favorite things I've written is where Im genuinely having fun writing it. But also after a well deserved rest. Cause if something doesn't feel right, it won't be right. And burnout is easier to get at than we actually think.

6. I recently started to follow writing advice blogs, one of my favorite @heywriters.

@she-who-fights-and-writes. (They have amazing writing resources, so does Pinterest and YouTube. Seize them!!!)

But yeah, I'm still an amateur on this, I make emphasis in the 5th one tho.

Hope this helps you? ;w;.

Love you❤️✨

Thanks for stopping by. ❤️

#talking with t✨ #personal takes #thoughts on my writing

[minilinooo]

˗ˏˋ sleep well. | jaemin ´ˎ˗

pairing: bf!jaemin x gn!reader

genre: drabble, fluff, a bit of angst, established relationship

word count: 615

synopsis: it is one of those nights where you can’t seem to clear your mind. this causes you to lose sleep. however, with your boyfriend sleeping beside you, you are somehow able to calm down.

warnings: reader is implied a overthinker

a/n: this was inspired by a tiktok i saw :)

Great, another long night filled with nothing but meaningless, irrelevant thoughts that corrupt your head, preventing you from getting the sleep you need.

You stared at the ceiling with tired eyes, endless thoughts occurring in your mind - none of them seeming to disappear anytime soon. You let out a sigh, growing tired of doing anything but sleep. This had to be the 3rd time this night where you had to wake up because of this one silly thought that’s been lingering around in your mind the whole day. Something came up in the middle of the day that bothered you for the rest of the day. Your mind didn’t let you focus on anything but this specific thing and even if you were able to get your mind off it for a bit, it would still find a way to waltz back into your head, planting itself back in its original place. It wasn’t even that serious but your mind made it feel as if your whole life revolved around it. The more you thought about it, the more it would break off into additional small, negative thoughts; to the point they became endless. It was irritating and exhausting.

Hence why you couldn’t go back to sleep. Tears pricked in your eyes as you grew more frustrated at the thought that you couldn’t fight back these meaningless thoughts. Why couldn’t you just leave this off to the side and worry about it the next day? Why does this have to happen at the only time where you can get all the peace and quiet throughout the day? Why must I overthink everything? You looked over to your right and saw your lover, Jaemin, sound asleep on his back, occasionally letting out soft snores. He looked so calm and peaceful; nothing seems to be disturbing him. Something you seemed to be struggling to do.

Seeing your boyfriend peacefully sleeping, you wanted to try again at falling back to sleep. You rolled onto your left side and closed your eyes - attempting to block out all of the sounds and thoughts from entering your head. It worked for what seemed like a few moments, but of course, your eyes opened once more. You glanced at the alarm clock which read 1:37am - which was basically not that far from when you went to bed. It felt like it’s been forever since you and Jaemin went to bed. You rolled back onto your back, then back onto your side, then back to your back again; it became a pattern which went on for a while until you got yourself situated in a position that made you comfortable. Considering how comfortable you felt, you took this as a chance to finally fall asleep. 

Before you could start to drift off to sleep, you felt a pair of arms snake around your waist and moving you to the other side. You turned around and was met with Jaemin’s half-asleep gaze, “I’m right here, get some rest.” he said softly, stroking your head slowly, knowing that it’s a way to calm you down which it did. Just from a small action, you were able to calm down immediately compared to when you tried to calm yourself down. It was crazy to believe how much of an effect Jaemin had on you. You didn’t know whether it was because he made you feel safe or if it’s cause he literally has you trapped in his arms but either way, you felt secure in his embrace.

Feeling yourself slowly drift off to sleep, you buried your face into Jaemin’s chest, taking in his warmth, feeling slightly at ease now that you’re in his arms.

taglist: @soobin-chois @seung-scrittore @prettybeoms @yesv01​

#head in the clouds☁️ #ficscafe #kflixnet #nct dream imagines #nct dream scenarios #nct dream drabbles #nct dream one shots #nct dream fluff #nct dream blurbs #nct imagines #jaemin imagines #jaemin scenarios #jaemin one shots #jaemin fluff #jaemin drabbles #jaemin blurbs

[sacredjake]

My beloved Julie, in light of the treacherous Jakedown that has brought us all down to our knees, I would be forever grateful if you would kindly compare me and Jake’s charts?? I love you! (I’m scared)

i haven't done one of these in quite some time so hopefully i'm not too rusty lol. I would absolutely love to do this for you <333

with your sun sign being scorpio and jake's being taurus i think there's a lot of room for growth between the two of you. scorpio and taurus are sister signs, and they can cause conflict, but its only because they opposites, yet very similar. sister sign combos open up great opportunities to help one another grow. scorpio is very emotional aware, intense and mysterious while taurus is less into emotions, very calm and easy going, and often trusts very quickly. while the two of you could butt heads over big picture ideas, you'd end up seeing a side you hadn't seen before. both of these are fixed signs which can bring stubbornness, but if you're willing to listen to one another this is a great combo.

i think your moon signs are pretty compatible and could work well. virgo moons do have a lot of emotions, just like any other sign, but they don't always like to show it. it may be hard for a virgo moon to be vulnerable and may even push their emotions down. on the other hand, jake has a cancer moon which is not afraid to let their emotions be known or felt. while at times cancer moon may get frustrated with virgo's struggle to be vulnerable and the amount of time it takes to open up, the biggest part would be communication and knowing that you're at least trying.

your mercury placements are pretty different but i think that could work out. sag mercury can be very enthusiastic and as a fire sign tend to speak before thinking whereas taurus mercury is very methodical and somewhat just even-toned. i would say that he would definitely do more of the listening and you might do more of the talking. i think he’d be used to it though because danny has a sag mercury so i don’t think it would throw him off.

jake has a gemini venus which can be pretty hard to nail down. gemini venus is constantly searching for new things to explore and learn, and they love talking about the things that intrigue them. they also can be kinda flighty which scorpio venus probably wouldn’t enjoy romantically as scorpio is very passionate and sure when they are into someone. gemini venus can be that way, i think it takes awhile to get there. the way to a gemini venus’s heart though is to show interest in the things they like or do things they like with them even if you don’t like it. and also sharing your passions and teaching them about them.

i think your mars signs work well together just because they are both very determined and stubborn signs. virgo mars is very hard working and constantly pushes themselves to be better and aries does this as well, aries however is more explosive and can act rashly while virgo will sit back create a plan. i think this would be a great balance between the two of you.

with all of that, i would say that you would get along as friends, but every now and then i could see you butting heads on difference of opinion. i think your venus signs would hold the most conflict, but communication would help that. i think this would be a relationship meant for growth in which you help one another be better and evolve

#gvf & astrology #birth chart comparison #gvf astrology #joopsworld <3 #so sorry this took so long :( it’s been hectic

[stevensaus]

The Casual Disregard Of The Neurodivergent Voice

I had the pleasure of watching the 2017 BBC2 TV movie "Chris Packham: Asperger's and Me" (IMDB, BBC) recently. The whole film is (as far as I'm aware) NOT available for purchase or viewing any longer, although Packham's new documentary, Inside Our Autistic Minds, is available on the BBC iPlayer for those in the UK. There were two brief instances from "Asperger's and Me" that really highlight why I have such a big problem with Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA) as well as its largest proponent, "Autism Speaks." I excerpted the two clips for this discussion (YouTube, Vimeo), though I've transcribed the audio below if you cannot watch or the embed is broken. In the first section, Chris Packham (the host) is speaking to Joann, whose autistic son is being treated with TMS during a clinical trial. PACKHAM: You’ve brought up an autistic son. I think a lot of people probably don't realize the enormous amount of energy and the difference that impacts on the family. that's hard. JOANN: it's very hard and that's why autism is very isolating for families. it's it's exhausting to meet the needs to meet the safety, you know, there's divorce, there's bankruptcies... because everything goes into the safety well-being and treatments for our kids. PACKHAM: it's it it is you know painful to watch I've been there I've struggled myself so you know in that sense you know you're looking for any form of cure at times you see him failing and that's that's uncomfortable. If another therapy arose whereby you could cure autism. What would you think of that? JOANN: I think on a bad, frustrating day, I'd say yes. I think on a day like today, where I've never been so proud of him, I'd say no. It's complicated, but on the on the bad days, absolutely. There's two things of note here: Joann's not quite hidden reaction to the idea of a "cure" is the first. The second, and more important one, is that while Packham speaks of the the challenges his autism has caused for him, Joann (without malice) focuses on the ways that her son's autism has effected the family. The second clip is a stark contrast. In this section, Packham interviews Vincent Strully, who founded the New England Center for Children, which heavily relies on Applied Behavioral Analysis therapy. During the introduction to this bit, Packham commented on how unfriendly the school Strully founded is for those with sensory processing issues, which is common in autistic people. Strully compares ABA to "chemotherapy," awkwardly trying to joke that chemotherapy was originally considered "poison." Except that is a fairly accurate description of chemotherapy -- it's just that chemotherapy is designed to kill the cancer faster than the patient. Strully, who is NOT a doctor of any kind, as he only holds a bachelor's in political science, is clearly unaware of this fact. Yet Strully has unexpectedly made a perfect analogy. ABA is about deliberately removing autistic behaviors so that "professional observers would not be able to tell the autistic child ." The question -- just as it is with chemotherapy -- is whether or not that treatment is worse than what it proports to cure. That is a deeply personal and subjective question with chemotherapy, and one where there is no one-size-fits-all answer. Packham muses on this throughout the documentary. He recognizes that he has relatively low support needs, and while the world may be difficult at times for Packham, he recognizes that other people with higher support needs may have a far worse subjective experience. Strully, on the other hand, has absolutely no hesitation in knowing what is "best" for other people. STRULLY: This is educational chemotherapy for these kids. Who wouldn't deny them the chemical or medical chemotherapy they need for their cancer, but to deny them the the work that we and our colleagues around the country are doing successfully? Is, you know, it's just wrong. PACKHAM: If you could, would you cure autism? STRULLY: If I could, of course. And that would be a prayer come true. Strully's language makes it clear that he views neurodiversity as a disease -- he literally compares autism to cancer -- and that the goal of the treatment is to make autistic people more convenient for society, not the other way around. The quick, thoughtless arrogance that Strully shows here seems like it should be the exception. It is not. Physicians -- even those who are the heads of "Autism and Psychology" at major healthcare corporations -- who acknowledge that "each person with ASD presents unique experiences which can make finding effective care more difficult as it’s often personalized to an individual’s specific needs" will then immediately turn around and advocate that ABA therapy is the appropriate therapy for all autistic people. While "Autism Speaks" continues to receive criticism from actually autistic and neurodivergent people, the organization -- which is also a staunch advocate of ABA -- is regularly cited by network and cable news. The optimistic part of me thinks that ABA's popularity is due to big business, with its largest proponents and advocates either not being qualified (cough Strully cough) or are burdened with enormous financial conflicts of interest. The pessimist side of me thinks that ABA's popularity is because of its patronizing arrogance that values other's convenience over the autistic person's needs. But it does not have to be this way. On the "1800 Seconds On Autism" BBC podcast, Packham was interviewed by hosts Robyn Steward and Jamie Knight (audio, transcript). One of the things Packham talks about is working with his allistic (or neurotypical) colleagues. Packham said, "...very often I'd be working in situations which I was finding suboptimal or occasionally difficult. But now I'm just candid and upfront, and I find that the people that I work with are enormously respectful. They might do very often small changes, which mean that I can become a far more effective and productive part of the team." When I mention these kinds of accommodations to others, I often get a lot of pushback. The allistic person seems to expect that there will be huge, taxing demands made of them. Their focus is not on the overall productivity of the team, but instead on how inconvenient whatever accommodations will be for them. Consider: It is now commonplace to talk about people with "different learning styles" and to make sure that any training -- including the most routine annual training at a workplace -- makes an effort to address visual, auditory, kinesthetic, and reading/writing learners. Yet a neurodivergent person's need for specific, detailed instructions or direct communication styles is somehow seen as too great a burden. Instead of minor changes being made to improve both the employee's quality of life and the effectiveness of the work unit as a whole, neurodivergent persons are forced to work in allistic conditions. A personal example: I work quickly and effectively with fast and rhythmic music in the background, with as few vocals as possible. (Thank goodness for Digitally Imported.) If there are conversations or other snippets of "words" flying about (such as in the lyrics of pretty much any top 40 pop song), it makes it extremely difficult for me to focus. But for years my co-workers actively tried to exclude my few selections from the music playing at the office. As I wrote in 2019: the people around you would rather make you listen to music you hate all the time rather than let a single song you care for play once every hour or two. How would you feel in that situation? How hurt would you be after seeing that your peers would rather have you be uncomfortable all the time rather than give up their preference for what they want all the time? That even though you went out of your way to make sure others felt included, they actively excluded you? I did not realize at the time that my own flavor of neurodivergence was what made it so disruptive and difficult for me. But I definitely realized how much their actions had both my productivity and feelings of isolation. The mindset behind ABA and that kind of lack of accommodation is unneeded, wasteful, and cruel. Like Packham, I am certain there are those neurodivergent people who would take a cure, where the differences in their brains get in the way of what that person wants. And make no mistake, I am far more aware than most of the emotional, financial, and even physical toll that neurodivergence can take on a family. But I also wonder how many people feel that way not because of their own needs and desires, but because everyone else simply cannot be bothered to take enough time to think about someone else's needs. Featured Image by nugroho dwi hartawan from Pixabay Read the full article

#ABAtherapy #allistic #autism #neurodivergence #neurospicy

[bitchlessdino]

for you, always

Pairing: wonwoo X fem!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 1.4k

Tags: smut with some plot, ex!seventeen member, pining, exhibitionism, cunnilingus, implicit consent, unprotected sex, phone calls

Summary: Heartbreak recovery requires patience, incentive, and Jeon Wonwoo.

author note: hello welcome back to horny hell. we have lemonade and abandon kittens to adopt, kittens being pussies, and pussies being my {redacted}. I have no real serious notes beside the fact that I feel like grown so many good relations being on here and I hope we continue to connect and reconnect for a long time.

It was initially a means of getting over your ex. He would call all the time, get back together with you, only to break up all over again. At some point, it had to stop. 

Wonwoo was sick of every little pity party you’d throw at his place and he was running low on his stock of monthly supply of snacks in a mere week. Of course, there was the matter of your emotions, which were unstable and unpredictable, the worst kind to manage. You would throw tantrums, cry excessively, and experience the ups and downs comparable to an amusement park ride.

That was when he proposed an idea. He’d check on you, and hold you accountable for every time you get too close to your ex. Originally, a flick on the forehead seemed enough, you then began to get insufferable, fighting back. Other times you’d scratch at him like a cat, trying to retrieve your phone that he’s stolen from your grasp. It was until finally, he found a strong enough method to hold you back.

Pinning your hands on either wall, unable to even twist your wrist to face your phone screen. His hands were stronger than you had anticipated, hardly moving an inch, while struggled, and then you stopped completely. Wonwoo’s eyes pierced into yours like a knife, salvia shooting down his throat, but having complete control over the situation.

“Wonwoo—”

“Can’t you just ignore him when you’re with me? What good is it keeping him around?”

“I’m not—”

“You haven’t looked up from your phone all afternoon, stay with me here!” He points out, shouting.

Your lips quiver. Unable to tear your eyes away from him. “I-it’s, it’s not easy!”

“Can’t you see I’m doing the best I can to help you forget about him?”

You feel tears brim your eyes, helpless and irrational, pounding the back of your fists at the plaster of the wall you’re still restricted to. “Can’t you see I’m trying? I can’t help but…miss him. Just…let me take the call, hmm? Hmm?”

He shut his eyes painfully, fingers tightening around your wrists in frustration, hearing you wince in pain. “…God, you’re so stupid.” 

He pulls himself forward, his head drawing closer, and soon his lips on your face. The way they moved against you was sweet and slow as if to let you know that everything is ok, and eventually, everything will be. He loosens the grip on your wrist, causing you to drop your phone to the ground, cracking its screen. Your eyes flutter in anticipation, melting in his open arms. His arms tighten around your torso and you grasp his neck. Your bodies gravitate to the bedroom and Wonwoo never leaves your side.

This single event would lead to several endless night of involved with your dearest friend. Many of those nights including hands in each other hair, lips on each other’s body, hours lost in space, and more than enough orgasms to tattoo Wonwoos name on your tongue, and he loves how you would say his name. How he’d worship your body in return like religion, never ceasing to give every inch of you his undivided attention.

And this went on for as long as you needed. Wonwoo gave you all the distraction you needed, to the point that this entanglement started to work and you wouldn’t even think about calling up your ex.

“Mmh, Wonwoo.”

Your fingers interlocked with his hair, capturing his dark locks before tugging, his soft grunts escaping before his lips tug at your folds and close around your entrance. The way his arms would encapsulate around your thighs and push your sopping cunt closer to his face was exhilarating. The gears in your stomach churn like they were shifted to overdrive, mesmerized by the owner of those same eyes that a week ago scooped you from your disgraceful state and ravished you until the following morning. You were eternally grateful.

It is then you hear a buzz in the background of your pleasure, to which Wonwoo urges you to check who it was. You palm over the sheets and barely clutch in your hand and your eyes perk up at the sight of the dreaded name. “It’s S-Soonyoung.”

Wonwoo scoffs, “Good. Pick it up.”

“B-but—”

“I know, but I think you’re ready. Go ahead.”

You hesitantly accept the call, holding up to your ear. “Hello?”

Wonwoo mouths the word, ‘speaker,’ and you follow suit. You both hear your ex-boyfriend's voice bright and clear on the other end, talking to you as if nothing has changed.

“Y/n! You’re finally accepting my call.”

You grumble imagining his face and the expression you’re so used to seeing. Nonetheless, there was a pang in your stubborn heart, a part of you that missed him at that moment. “What do you want?”

His voice was soft and tender. “Just like I’ve always wanted. To talk.”

“I have nothing to say to—You!”

Wonwoo reattaches his lips to your core, adamant about finishing the job. You feel his tongue run laps around your entrance, quenching his thirst for your arousal. You clench on his tongue, your legs entangling around his neck, softly pant. Your cheeks grow the familiar red and tried holding back your violent moans from escaping.

“Y/n? Hello?”

You shake your head. “J-just stop. Soonyoung—oh god!”

Wonwoo manages to fit his fat tongue inside, thrusting into you as his fingers make an appearance. You loosen the grip on your phone and drop it to your side, rubbing yourself into his face until you see stars. He chuckles inside your heat, losing his breath, but never feeling more alive.

“Y/n. Please. Are you busy? What am I hearing in the background?” Soonyoung persists.

“Mmh, Wonwoo, like that. Please…”

You could hear the initial confusion in your ex’s voice even through Wonwoo's efforts, “Wonwoo? Are you fucking someone while talking to me on the phone?!”

“Just hang–Fuck!”

Wonwoo sucks his fingers in a hygienic manner before lifting your legs over his shoulders, gathering his strength to take your lower body up from the surface. His exploration angry and filled with pride, ready to prove to the man on the other end it was over between you and them. Your legs cross behind his head. Your mumbling spoke louder than any other words he could think of, your moans concise and pure of ecstasy.

“Y/n. You can’t do this to me. Think of all the time we’ve spent together—”

Wonwoo grunts, rapidly moving his tongue at the speed of light and you interrupt Soonyoung with a loud gasp, “Wonwoo. You’re so good with your mouth…”

“STOP FUCKING ALREADY.”

Both lovers could hear the panic ins the man’s tone, paying it almost no mind. In a hasty attempt, you take the initiative and end the call. Wonwoo chuckles, awarding you with a kiss on your clit. “Told you you were ready. That was so sexy of you calling my name knowing he’d hear.”

“I was hoping you’d like that.” You say exasperated.

“You know me so well.” 

Smiling, he pulls himself up from his plank position and kisses you, licking the bottom of your lips for entry, and your taste still on his tongue. You hold him by the nape of his neck, reeling him towards you as either of his legs barricades your sides.

He lowers down on your body until you are completely beneath him, struggling to peel off his pants and his full length in your readied entrance. You ache for it inside you, disregarding any and all other distractions, and were soon gratified by the fullness of his rubber-covered cock plunging in you.

He rocks back into you, his hips rolling back into you at the perfect pace, kissing down your jaw in desperation. He guides your hips to follow him, your sweet voice slowly draining his sanity and patience.

“You’re so good to me. You feel so fucking amazing,” he confesses dreamily.

His body holds you greedily, showing no signs of letting go, and grasps your face to level with his. His half-open eyes can hardly look at you straight. He drowns in your praises, memorizing how your lips move saying his name, pleased with how you contract around him until you're close to your climax.

“I’m gonn—ugh—cum…please…”

“You’re so pretty when you beg,” he sighs, “Cum for me. I want to see how your face looks when you cum."

Your face contorts to an unreadable mess, stretching your cheeks and rapidly blinking until you let out a loud and long moan, twitching underneath him. Wonwoo's hands grasp your quaking frame, cumming soon after, filling your insides to the brim with his desire. Your cheeks always got rosy when you meet your climax and he's always quick to leave soft repeated kisses. He looks at you like you're his. An undeniable love in his eyes that seems never-ending, but you failed to notice, soon to already drift off into dreamland.

You lay restlessly by each other's side when Wonwoo finds you unresponsive. Your head lays comfortably on top of his exposed chest, snuggling up to his torso. His arms hug your figure, training his fingers against your flushed skin. He glances down at you dozing away, pushing stray hands away from your face, and kissing the top of your head. Your soft sighs leave your kiss swollen lips, urging a smile on the man's face.

“As long as you need. I’ll be there.”

#jeon wonwoo #jeon wonwoo fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fanfic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #seventeen x you #wonwoo smut #jeon wonwoo smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo fanfic #jeon wonwoo imagines #jeon wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo scenarios

[technowoah]

i just really want jack manifold fluff if you’re taking requests like the reader joins jack for laugh and the stream ends idk you can do what you feel is best :]

Free Content Darling

Jack manifold my beloved ♥

Im so behind on requests yall forgive me 😪

Literally sorry in advance-

Jack Manifold x gen neutral! reader (established) blurb imagine

⚠︎ slight swearing, petnames, and a lot of fluff, a little bit of writers block from me :( I didn't proofread LMAONSK HELP-

Masterlist

"Darling! C'mere!" You heard Jack yell from his recording room. You were currently curled up on the couch scrolling through twitter. The trending page had "JACK" and "TRY NOT TO LAUGH" on the top. The tweets under the trending topics was filled with comments about Jack's stream and other streams happening.

You had heard him laughing and yelling in his recording room before. To be completely honest you dont know why he invited you over his house in the first place. You showed up at his house wanting to just relax and have a fun time with Jack, but after a couple minutes he had told you he had a stream already scheduled today and left to you to your own devices.

Thats how ended up on the couch looking at tweets that talked about your boyfriends stream.

You lazily rolled off the couch and onto your feet. You had the fluffy socks Jack had gotton you as a small gift. You both ended up getting the same socks and slipped around the house because of the hardwood floor. It was a fun activity until you were both mimicking ballroom dancing untill you both slipped and fell on the hardwood floor. It was a small moment but then after you both were more careful around his house.

Opening the door to his recording office you peaked your head inside now knowing if he wanted you completely inside or just wanted to quickly tell you something. The door was in frame when he streams so you couldn't be discreet.

"Hey-"

"Hey! Y/N! Guys it's Y/N!" Jack exclaimed showing you off to the stream. "Come over here love." He waved you over while rolling his identical gaming chair for you to sit on.

You smiled and made your way over to sit beside him in the broken chair.

"Why'd you give me the broken chair this time?" You smiled as you questioned him.

"I mean they are identical, no one would've noticed."

"We'll you told everyone who sat in it that it was broken." You said matter of factly.

"Do you want to sit in this one?" Jack asked pointing to the chair underneath him.

"Yeah I do." You said while putting your hands together in a prayer position. "You wanna switch with me?"

"No, not really Im quite comfortable in my own chair love." Jack said with a smirk leaning back in his chair.

"You sure?"

"Yeah pretty much." Jack's smile widened as he saw your frustration grow.

"Dickhead." You said under your breath.

Jack started to laugh. "What did you say?" He swiveled his chair to face you.

"Nothing. You're hearing things." You smirked.

Meanwhile the chat was freaking out about your interactions. You werent a stranger to Jack's fanbase. A year ago you were just Jack's roommate, but then he slowly introduced you as his significant other. He started flirting with you on stream and on twitter, then after a couple months of that he titled a stream "MEET MY S/O!!!". It was weird for you to be on stream for the first time, but you became accustomed to it.

"What did you want me to do again?" You asked. Jack probably forgot the reason he called you in there in the first place.

"Oh yeah! I wanted to do a stream with you! A you laugh the stream ends type thing. Also the chat was asking for you, they missed you apparently."

"Oh of course they did, I think they love me more than you."

"Yeah I think so! And its not right!" Jack exclaimed and you laughed along with him.

"I think we already lost the challenge, cause we've been laughing for a while haven't we?" You brought up.

"Well the challenge hasn't started. And if we laugh you have to get bonked in the bead with this pillow." Jack had gotton up and walked around the room searching for something to become a punishment. "We have 3 lives each and if we use up all of our lives the stream ends."

"And I have you all to myself?" You asked slightly serious. You still were irked because of tbe fact he invited you over and left you, I mean you are here now next to him, but you wanted time without a camera and monitors in your face.

"Yeah love, of course. But you have to laugh!" Jack exclaimed.

Thinking about the situation, you wanted to laugh and lose all your lives on purpose so you two could have alone time together.

"Fine let's go!"

"Alright then!"

"You suck at this game dont ya?" Jack laughed as mutiple short videos from fans kept popping up on the screen. "You have one more life and I only have two."

It was 30 minutes into the stream and youve been hit with the pillow on Jack's lap more times than you could count, at least that what it felt like. You were on your last life and actually trying to stay in the game after realizing how much fun this was. Maybe you were being selfish, because you were right next to him doing things that you two were going to do alone.

"You have no sense of humor babe." You replied back.

"I do have a sense of humor! I could say my sense of humor is broken even."

"Well mine is too when we compare how many lives we have left."

"Good point."

"YOU LAUGHED!" You stood up confronting him trying to pry the pillow out of his hands to hit him with.

"NO! I did not! Let go!" Jack said still sitting down struggling to keep a good grip on the pillow. You successfully took the pillow out of his hands and started repeatedly hitting him with it as he tried to shield himself.

"Augh! Stop!"

"He laughed! He laughed, you guys saw that right?" You bent down into frame reading the chat while they spammed "YES" and "HIT HIM"

"See, they agree with me Manifold." You said confidently.

"They're just want to see me lose. I'm too powerful." He shrugged.

"Anways! 1 to 1! Loser!" You hit him with the pillow again.

"Stop!"

The stream continued on and the both of you were begging eachother to keep your one lives that you both had left. Everytime you snickered a bit Jack would catch it and vice versa. The stream went on longer than Jack planned, but it seemed like he was having fun. Finally after an hour of streaming and bickering between you both You ended up laughing at this stupid vine from long ago.

"YOU LAUGHED I WON!" Jack threw his hands up in victory. "Holy shit we can end the stream, this took forever."

"You wanna end the stream?" You asked after calming down.

"Well we could just chill and talk to chat, but I would've thought you wanted to chill without.." Jack gestured to the monitors on his stream. "All that."

"How'd you know I wanted to do that?" You asked with a small smile.

Jack shrugged. "Well I kind of left you here in my flat and went to go stream for a while. That was a dick move."

"Well thats what I wanted at first but then you called me in here. I was trying to get all of my lives down, but then I realized how much fun I was having." You explained. For a second you forgot that he was still live until you saw flashing text across a screen out of the corner of your eye.

"It was selfish of me-"

"It wasnt selfish bub! I feel that was valid, but you could've told me." Jack said reassuringly grabbing your hand.

"It was fun though! I wouldn't have it any other way Manifold." You smiled at him and he smiled back.

"Me either."

Jack ended up ending his stream and both of you said your goodbyes to the people watching his stream. He closed everything off of his computer and leaned back in his chair immediately relaxing when the camera was turned off.

"Thanks for inviting me Manifold." You said as he got up to put the pillow back in it's place.

"Of course love." He pressed a kiss to your forehead as we walked away for a second.

"Hey! Why did you invite me anyways?" You asked.

He walked back over to where you were standing and pecked your lips and winked at you. "Free content darling."

#jack manifold x reader #jack manifold imagine #jack manifall #jack manifold fluff #mcyt blurb #mcyt angst #mcyt fluff #mcyt headcanons #mcyt x reader #dream smp x reader #mcyt imagine #mcyt imagines #gender nuetral reader #mcyt reactions #mcyt requests #dream smp x you #idk what to put here now so... #mcyt reader insert #misleading tags ig #mcyt fanfiction #jack manifold fanfiction #dream smp x y/n

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Orange

Prompts: Lmao idk if your taking prompts but I got the funniest idea (at least to my 6am brain) the orange side. Is annoyed that people keep portraying him as a carrot (shhh its an au type thing we love our citrus boy) when he is an orange. That's it. That's the fic. Go wild. - anon

Hey! I love your writing so much and you are amazing! The comfort and angst is soooo good and has really nice messages. Anyway, I kinda had a idea, so I struggle with a lot of mental crap (anxiety, depression, derealism, emotional numbness, trust issues) and my family has a fair few of them too. But of course instead of being smart human beings we all just misunderstan and only focus on ourselves. And that kinda reminds me of sander sides relationships with each other, cause they all are falling and just breaking everyone else on the way down.

So if your still taking requests, maybe a sandersides with everyone struggling through mental breakdowns and having to face their family/friend/whatever relationship dysfunctionallity. And a nice happy ending, with understanding and cuddles. Maybe not everything is better but a few sides start to understand each other and make up (like anaroceit finally talking, or anxcietmus understanding, or Logince communicating feelings, or creativetwins forgiveness, idc)

Anyway, no pressure! Just an idea, your a wonderful writer and I hope you have a wonderful day to match! :) - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: none, all platonic

Word Count: 2251

They called me a carrot. They compared me to a vegetable. They dare insinuate that I am borne of lies that I will make your eyesight better?


Well, you’ll Vitamin See what I’m really capable of.

  Patton digs through yet another cupboard and groans in frustration. 

“Where is it,” he mutters under his breath, scanning for the good spatula. The good one with the wide flat bit and the good wooden handle. “I swear I put it away!”

But no spatula looks back at him. 

He shuts the door and it bangs against the wall. He winces at the noise and puts his hands on his hips, staring around. He’s checked every single cupboard and it’s nowhere to be found. He takes a deep breath and resigns himself to checking the drawers. 

Frustration continues to bubble in his gut as he opens drawer after drawer, finding silverware, wooden spoons, spices, potholders, even toothpicks but no spatula. 

“Where is it?”

“What’re you looking for, Pat?”

Patton looks up with a growl, startling Virgil who lingers on the edge of the stairs. “Where is it?”

“Uh, where is what?”

“The good spatula,” Patton says forcefully, “it’s missing and I want it because I’m baking.”

Virgil holds his hands up in a placating manner. “Whoa, easy. Okay, uh, where have you looked?”

“Everywhere!” Patton throws his hands up. “I’ve looked everywhere!”

“Okay, uh, cupboards?”

Why doesn’t he believe me? 

“Pat?”

“Yes, I’ve checked the cupboards.”

“Drawers?” Patton just gestures around at the still-open drawers. “Okay, uh, dishwasher?”

“Where do you think I looked first?”

“You know what,” Virgil says, backing away, “I’m just gonna—good luck.”

Oh. Well, his gut twists a little as he watches Virgil run back up the stairs. He bites his lip and makes to go after him, to apologize, when he notices something. 

The good spatula. Sitting on the counter. 

He blinks and picks it up. Did he…already take it out? He glances up the stairs. His apology is probably going to go over better if he apologizes with cookies. 

He puts the orange on the counter back in the fridge. 

  Logan grits his teeth as he tries again to write the formula on the whiteboard. The pen squeaks at a truly irritating volume as he works, smearing until he can’t tell whether it’s supposed to be an ‘a’ or an ‘o.’ He slams the pen down on the desk and closes his eyes. 

In. And out. 

Breathe. 

He opens his eyes and grabs the eraser, getting rid of the mistake and picking up the pen to try again. Before he can, he fumbles and it spills ink all over his shirt. 

“Ah!” He quickly reaches for a tissue but every time he tries to blot out the stain, it gets bigger. “Shit.”

He didn’t want to have to do laundry today. Sighing, he undoes his tie and sets about getting the shirt off before it stains him too. As he pulls it over his head, his glasses catch and jam into his forehead. 

“Ow!”

“Uh, Specs?”

“What,” he says irritably, yanking the shirt back down and turning toward the voice behind the door. 

“Is this a bad time?”

“Yes, it is,” he grumbles, going over to yank the door open anyway, “what do you want?”

Roman stares at him, obviously taken aback by how curt he’s being. He blinks, looking down, only for his eyes to narrow in on Logan’s shirt and tie. 

Don’t say it. Don’t say it. Don’t you fucking dare say it. 

“Um, Logan, I think you—“

“I am aware,” Logan says through gritted teeth, “now did you need something or are you just intent on disturbing me?”

Roman opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes his mouth and shakes his head. “No, sorry, Logan, I’ll leave you be.”

A bit of regret sours the taste in Logan’s mouth as Roman dips his head and turns to head back down the hallway. He glances down, trying to find the words to apologize when he catches sight of the ink stain again. He sighs, taking off his glasses and going to change. He can go apologize to Roman in a moment. 

He leaves the orange on his desk to eat for later. 

  “God fucking damnit,” Virgil mutters, yanking his phone out of his pocket and jabbing his finger into the ‘skip’ button, “stop playing this song!”

The song, which shall not be named, obediently stops, skipping to the next track. Virgil shuts his eyes and throws himself back down onto the bed, crossing his arms and trying to relax. By the end of the song, he finds himself moving his head absentmindedly to the beat. 

Then the next song starts playing. 

His eyes fly open. 

“How,” he whispers, “the fuck is this happening?”

Every time a new song starts playing, it’s the one he really fucking doesn’t want to hear.

He rips his phone out of his pocket and checks the queue. After the song, it has the rest of his music library. No repeats, no nothing. He should be safe. Just to be sure, he keeps his eye on the ‘Up Next’ list as he presses ‘skip.’

The playlist jumps to the next song and he can’t see anything other than the other songs in his library that he actually wants to hear. Good. That’s good. Let’s keep it that way. 

He sets his phone on the bed next to him and closes his eyes again. 

Guess what happens when the song ends. 

Guess what fucking happens. 

No? 

Virgil will tell you. 

“Nope,” he yells, “you don’t get playing privileges no more!”

He rips his headphones out of his ears and stabs his fingers at the phone to get it to unlock. He finds the bitch of a song in his library and swipes insistently at the screen. 

Delete song from Library?

“You bet your fucking ass,” Virgil grumbles, pressing the delete button. 

And again. 

And again. 

“What the fuck?” Is the screen frozen? What’s happening? Why can’t he delete the song? “What the fuck, begone bitch.”

In a desperate effort to get rid of it, he presses several places on the phone at once, hoping one of them will make the delete button finally get with the program. 

Instead, the Bluetooth icon appears and selects one of the speakers outside his room. 

“No!”

Before more than a second of the song can play, Virgil has turned off his phone. Nope. No playing. Not for you. He strides to his computer and opens his music library, taking a sick sense of satisfaction from dragging the song out of his playlists.

“And stay out.”

Warily, he turns his phone back on and sighs in relief when the song is nowhere to be found. He puts on another playlist and settles back into relax, only to lie on something round. 

“Remus, stop leaving shit in my bed!”

“If you insist!”

“And anything else as well!”

“Spoilsport!”

Virgil rolls his eyes as he chucks the orange into a garbage can. 

  Janus grits his teeth as he reaches for the basket of bath salts. “I swear, I won’t upend this whole thing into the bath.”

The wrappers crinkle as he grabs one packet after another, peering at their contents. Instead of the bath crystals that should sparkle slightly in the warm light, hunks of partially congealed mess lie inside each and every one. 

Janus grits his teeth and checks the seals. There’s no way. There’s no way someone else has opened these. They would have to sink straight into his bathroom to get at them and putting aside the fact that none of them can do anything straight, he knows that’s a boundary they wouldn’t dare cross. Not even Remus, who’d said in a rare moment of complete and total seriousness that he would never violate Janus’s privacy like that. 

And sure enough, none of the seals on any of the bags are broken. 

Janus just resists the urge to hurl his hat at the wall, instead checking around for what in the world could’ve happened to completely ruin his things. 

His eyes land on the humidifier that is still running. 

Muffling another curse, he lunges across the bathroom and shuts it off, wincing at how slick the button is and how hot the air is right around the spout. He shakes his hand a few times and realizes with horror that the hot water—why is it hot?—has gotten onto his gloves. 

He yanks them off and chucks them out of the bathroom. They land on the floor with a disappointed thwap. 

Janus turns back to the humidifier and glares at it. “You did this. You ruined my bath salts.”

The humidifier just stares at him. 

Resisting the urge to take it to Remus to be destroyed in a truly horrifying manner, he reaches out to put it away when his hand brushes the heat controls. 

He frowns. 

He doesn’t put the humidifier in front of the heat controls for a reason, so why…

Oh. The heat is on high. He quickly moves the slider back to ‘off’ and glances over his shoulder. He picks up the humidifier and tucks it under his arm with a sigh. 

So he won’t get to use the rest of those ones. That’s alright, he has more in his closet. Where they will be untouched by the perils of heat and humidity. 

He takes the orange from the bathroom counter and throws it in the trash. 

  “What do you mean you don’t know?”

“I’m telling you,” Roman says as he sticks his head up from under the table, “that I don’t know!”

“But you were the one who was supposed to hold onto it!” Remus throws himself into the air and hangs from the chandelier. “How the fuck did you lose it?”

“I don’t know, maybe because I was preoccupied with having a time wrangling the eight feral kittens into their cage?”

“It was only six, Roman.”

“It sure didn’t feel like it!”

Remus snarls and launches himself at his brother. “I thought I told you you could only help if you didn’t fuck everything up!”

“Hey!” Roman pushes him off. “I didn’t fuck everything up!”

“We’re missing the six-liter bottle of Coke, Roman, that means that the Mentos will have nowhere to fall and the dominos won’t get knocked over! That’s what starts the whole thing!”

Roman bristles. “And who was it that almost broke the umbrella balancing the gate on top of it? Because it wasn’t me!”

“I know what I’m doing, Roman, I’ve done this before!”

“Well, then why did you invite me?”

“Because you looked so lonely I thought I was going to have to rip your eyes out!”

Roman gasps. Remus’s eyes widen and he quickly reaches for his brother only for their weight to stagger into the nearest table and—

The dominos start falling. The table tips over onto its side and the cards fall. The bell is rung and the ball is flung up over the gate and into the bucket. The bucket falls down and sand spills everywhere. The monkey slips and pulls the string on the line of books. The books fall onto the oven and—

The oven opens, revealing a cake. 

The brothers stand there for a moment, just watching. 

“…whoa.”

“That was…”

“…yeah.”

“…that was awesome.”

“You were right, the monkey was a great touch.”

“Thanks.”

Remus stands there for another moment after Roman thanks him and gently knocks their shoulders together. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. It worked anyway.”

“Yeah.” He looks down at the table with the rest of their supplies on it. “Guess we can start planning the next one, yeah?”

“Sure. Just let me grab this first.”

“Oh, is that what started it?”

“Looks like it.”

Roman sets the orange on the table and joins Remus at the whiteboard. 

+1. 

They called me a carrot. They compared me to a vegetable. They dare insinuate that I am borne of lies that I will make your eyesight better?

Well, you’ll Vitamin See what I’m really capable of. 

Hang on to your insecurities and self-esteem issues, boys, things are about to get…

…zesty. 

“Oh, there’s my snack! How’d you get here?”

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #logan sanders #fic

[aetherarf]

You should write that Scaramouche story, hehe! I'm sorry but imagining him being a sobbing mess is just.. [drools]

Decided to write it and just attach it to this ask because reasons

[[ WARNING: N. SFW CONTENT, BONDAGE, OVERSTIM ]] [[ Summary: Scaramouche loves taking care of you, but sometimes even he needs to relax... even if he's not very good at it, you figure tying him up and filling him up, forcing him to cum until he's too exhausted to be stressed, is the best course of action.

Word Count: 2'387 ]] Scaramouche looked at the long, slick ribbon of silk. He rubbed his fingertips on it, it was gentle enough that it wouldn't hurt his scarred skin, but he still seemed so suspicious of it, almost angry, as though this long strip of fabric had personally offended him. "It's just silk," you said, as he examined it intensely, "It won't kill you."

"How do I know you won't?" He asked, not meaning it in the slightest. He balled up much of the silk, tossing it onto the bed he sat on, "Are you sure this is a great idea?" "Absolutely," you said, full of confidence and conviction. After all, everyone needs a break... No matter how it comes about. Scaramouche sighed, "Right, right. I just..." "Do you not want to?" You asked, knowing you and Scaramouche had talked about it several times already, but with how slow Scaramouche was to accept new things...

"I do," He sighed, "Dread of change is worse than change itself."

"So wise," you teased, "About getting--"

"Say it and I'm changing my mind."

It was an empty promise, but you decided to be kind. "Right. Well, I do have somewhere to be," you teased, grabbing the cloth and swinging it in a small circle.

He knew, you both knew that if he really wasn't okay with this, you'd stay with him and reassure him, but this little song and dance was a part of the whole play.

"Fine, fine, did you get everything?" He asked, grabbing his hat and setting it off to the side before he began to undo the rest of his clothes, setting them off to the side in a, relatively, neat pile. Just as he was finishing, you didn't give him a spare second to breathe, already holding the silk rope, looping it around his neck, and grabbing his arm to pull it behind his back, tugging on the rope like a leash, to get better leverage, watching how perfectly his back arched.

"You're eager," He hissed, voice low and irritated.

"Your friend is eager, too," you teased, only for him to huff,

"Don't tie my wrists too tight."

"I know, I know, you can get out if you fight enough." You tie a knot around one of his wrists, sticking two fingers under it, "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, it's fine, it's fine."

You quickly tied another knot, and again, it was loose enough to pull off with some effort, but not too easy. His hands clenched into fists as you went about continuing to tie him up, a few more loops around his arms, a little star design over his chest, and his legs... but the ribbon was long enough for a bit more.

For a good reason.

"Stay still," you whisper, and he huffed,

"I couldn't really move if I wanted to."

In your hands, you toyed with a much smaller ribbon... a cutting from the original, since it was more than long enough, but you had a specific idea in mind for its purpose.

"Before we... you know, do anything, do you want to be gagged? Just a ribbon over your mouth."

"Why? You won't hear me." He huffed,

"Because I feel like you enjoy having your mouth stuffed. So, do you?"

He just muttered, a little flustered as he looked away...

"Scara?"

He refused to even look at the ribbon you wanted to tie over his mouth.

"Scara, I need a clear answer."

"Yes! Archons, take a hint."

"Sometimes the hints you give me are very very vague," you mention, "Say ah..."

He didn't make any noise, but he did open his mouth, the ribbon set between his teeth, and he clenched his jaw on it, as though he couldn't help it.

You tied a knot at the back of his head, "Say something?"

He just muffled against the silk, likely an insult or a witty comment like I can't exactly talk, now can I?

You pressed a gag over his clothed mouth, onto his lips, and he almost chases... but stops, knowing he can't really kiss you back, not with how he couldn't even completely seal his lips anymore.

"Snap your fingers once if no, twice if yes, are you ready?"

He hesitated, then in quick succession, he snapped twice. You shoved him inbetween the shoulder blades, to be pushed onto his chest, and he groaned, hissed at this treatment, but you didn't mind. He prepared himself before hand, but, oh, how pretty he looked, tied up and forced to do whatever you want...

You just had one desire. To push him. You reached back over to the small box of supplies, pulling out a bottle and a device.... a toy.

A vibrator, it didn't have many ridges or curves, but it was large, and just shaped well enough that once inserted... it wouldn't be easy to get out without hands. The bottle only had lubricant, to make it easier and less painful, hopefully not painful at all.

Liberally, you poured it over the top, and you noticed Scaramouche staring... he looked... nearly hungry. You wonder if Scaramouche could fit this device, as large as it was, inside of his mouth... maybe even his other end couldn't take it. A disappointment, but you were about to find out.

You pressed it against his hole, that was shiny and slick, "Relax," you coo, and he exhales through his nose... and relaxes. Just as he does, you finally shift your palm to the end of the toy, pressing on it with some force--it slips barely an inch in before it stops, and he groans.

"Scara," you whisper, "You need to relax... or do you want to stop?"

He snapped his fingers once... which meant no. You assumed it was in response to the latter. Then, he took a deep breath, exhaled... and relaxed again.

You pushed it in, slower this time, a little amazed a man as little as him could take it... at all, really. Eventually, there was a soft pop, and all but the end that was meant to stick out, the end with a switch with a few numbers tacked to the side, was left. You looked down at Scaramouche, tears in his eyes, breathing heavily, and his legs shook, until he couldn't stabilize himself, and he fell onto his side, the landing soft and cushy by the bed.

"Sca-oh."

You saw his tummy, a little bulge. You reached down, rubbing it. If it wasn't for how familiar you were with him, and his arched back, you wouldn't have noticed, oh, but you did... He whined softly as you even touched it, and as you looked further down, you saw his dick leaking little drops of liquid. You grabbed the end of the silk rope, and tied it so it pressed on the toy, just to make sure it stayed in place... like adding insult to injury.

"Here... Let's just get into it," you cooed, and he made a low moan, but it turned into a shout as the device turned on--3, you decided was a low enough number to not overwhelm him, but not so low that he couldn't enjoy himself, too. Out of 10, that could seem pathetic... but you'd rather understimulate him than overstimulate.

For now, at least. You wanted him frustrated, not destroyed.

"Is that okay?" You asked, tilting your head to the side--His eyelashes fluttering as he was struggling to adjust, "Snap twice to tell me you're okay."

There was a second of silence... Then he snapped, once, then twice, nodding as well. You gently brush his bangs out of his face, and he sighs through his nose...

"Well, I'll see you later, Scara." You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek, "Unless you don't want me to?"

You, really, were just going out for a short amount of time, likely no more than an hour. But, that was the point, to leave him alone, trapped... but in a good way.

He didn't say anything, but he hid his face away from you, unwilling to admit, even silently, that he was enjoying this already.

"See you later, Scara!" You left, leaving the door to the bedroom cracked open... but you'd make sure to leave the front door shut and locked, just so only you could see him in this state. No one else should, after all.

And Scaramouche was...alone. For a few long moments, he laid there, just trying to rationalize his breathing, but eventually, he was able to calm down a decent amount. But as soon as he was calm, he was disappointed. There was pleasure, but it wasn't... enough. If it was just, maybe, a little more, he wouldn't still be able to think.

I don't want you to think, you had said, in response to how he was chronic overthinker, driving himself to paranoia, but this wasn't working.

With how his legs were tied, if he was sitting up he'd be sitting on his knees... he could probably buck his foot enough to either turn it off--so it wasn't infuriatingly enticing, or turn it up, which was what he wanted... Sure, he could undo the silk, just by determination to wiggle out of it, but he didn't want to do this a second time, he couldn't tie himself up...

A few tries, and he failed. He managed to jostle it within him, causing him to cry out, but it wasn't enough.

One last try, and...

He all but screamed a low, desperate moan, as the device was turned to max power, his insides burned like they were being forced to mush, and he came, shooting his load further than he thought his body was possible--But his hips were bucking, unable to move from the ribbon that bound him, thighs desperately clenching and unclenching as he felt tears pour from his eyes, realizing he was sobbing, screaming from the sensation.

With how his body buckled, he could only sob and cry out, unable to gather himself enough with each orgasm wracking him, to undo the rope, to try and flick the device down to a lower power...

and, a sick, twisted part of his mind loved this abuse.

...

You were holding a few things you bought. A few things you've been needing for awhile, a cute little bracelet you thought Scaramouche might like, since it was subtle but still nice, things like that... When you looked at the time, you realized you were gone far longer than intended, but... well, what was an hour compared to three?

Walking in, you shut the door behind you quickly, and then you froze, hearing Scaramouche moan so... so whorishly. You turned and looked to the hallway, did he get bored of it, undo it and begin riding the toy for his own amusement? He sounded like he was muffled, and he didn't seem like he'd ever keep on a gag if he could 'help' it, or at least, pretend he couldn't.

You set down everything on the table, resolving to deal with it later, as you rushed to the bedroom, knocking the door open.

He was still on his side, breathing heavily... Tied completely, but he was moaning so much, so... endlessly. He looked the same before you left, but...

You walked over--he seemed so dazed, he didn't even notice you. The first problem was the mess--he seemed to have came over and over again, and even as you watched, his spent dick, barely even hard at all, spewed out a few clear drops of liquid, unable to muster anything else. You were suddenly very thankful for the towels you had set down. You looked back to the toy, and your face dropped--

It was at max. You, immediately reached over, turning it off. The sound of buzzing stopped, one you only now noticed, and his moans immediately ceased. You half wanted to take it out now, but... oh, the rope, that wouldn't let you. It was fine, you set this up to fall off him as soon as a single knot was removed.

Gently, you reached up to the back of his neck and tugged on the end of the rope that hung out, and it all loosened. Scaramouche wasn't moving, but he was breathing... how exhausted must he be?

You finally removed the ribbons, deciding to show a little extra mercy and to untie his mouth, and he took ragged gasps.

With a steady hand, you grabbed onto the end... and gently, you tugged, and he moaned, prompting you to stop... was it best to leave it in? No, no, it wasn't a wound, it was a vibrator up his ass, of course it was better to get it out.

It was hard to ignore how he moaned, with each little movement, as you tried to be as gentle as possible when removing it... until it finally flopped onto the bed, his hole oozing with the excess lube, gaped from the massive size, clenching and loosening...

Oh, how destroyed he looked. He was beautiful, but you were still worried, gathering him up in your arms, not minding how he was coated in sweat and drool.

"Scara, talk to me," You half-pleaded, wondering if there was something wrong.

"Tuh.. tie...rd..."

"... Tired?"

He grunted weakly, of course he would be... you should probably get him water. But, you were distracted, as he weakly lifted his hand, grabbing your wrist and bringing it to his stomach...

Oh, despite everything, he was hard... his poor little cock, red and oozing, covered in mess.

"Pleah..." He whined desperately. Slowly, you moved your hand, wrapping around him, and he moaned, nodding as he buried his face in the crook of your neck, mouthing at it... likely his attempt at kissing.

It only took a few strokes for him to cum one last time, a pathetic mess of liquid that looked no thicker than water, and just as clear.

"Are you okay?" You asked, not minding the mess... there was potential for something bad happening, but...

"Yeh... yes..." he weakly forced out, "Stay..." He whined, the first fully coherent word he could muster.

Well... You could hold him for a few moments. You'd deal with his sweatiness, and getting him water, soon... just after he's gotten the affection he, clearly, so desperately needs...

#genshin impact #genshin x reader #scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #genshin scaramouche x reader #// this is so bad #// am sorry #naughty bark #anonymous

[itsclydebitches]

Rewatching RWBY there's this chilling lack of empathy through the volumes that I used to just wave off. Yang has no empathy for Tai, Blake is just entirely about what Blake needs, Weiss almost kills a woman at a party and her takeaway is 'my dad is mean so I'm going to run away'. Qrow sinks hard into depression in vol. 6 and Ruby's reaction is to yell she's never needed him. No one has EVER helped a civilian. It's so prevelant. Knowing how 7&8 go really changes the earlier writing.

I think there was a great deal of well-written empathy in the early volumes — after all, this cast was designed as the kind, well-meaning heroes — but that care was expressed almost solely within the group itself. Ruby sits by Jaune in the hallway and says "Nope!" to his self doubt. Weiss offers Ruby a hand up after she fails to kill the death stalker. Yang seeks out Blake and gets her to open up about what's bothering her. Now, I want to emphasize that there's nothing inherently wrong with this. It actually makes perfect sense. These are our main characters and they're written as peers co-habiting the same space. Of course whatever emotional growth we get, which automatically includes moments of compassion, would be directed towards each other. Similarly, the dynamics originally introduced — that of teachers and parents — likewise (rightly) puts the burden on the adults to provide the comfort, not the other way around. Port snaps Weiss out of her arrogant mindset. Ozpin reassures Ruby about her leadership worries. Tai is there to support his daughter when she's recovering from a lost limb. That's the natural order of things, so to speak.

The problem, to my mind, begins to occur when the group exits those dynamics. They're no longer students, they're licensed huntsmen. They're no longer kids, but equals who never needed adults in the first place. They're no longer doing things for themselves and their friends on personal downtime, they're doing them for the community at large as a profession (to say nothing of the world-altering war they've insisted on shouldering responsibility for). That's what a huntsmen is meant to be, a defender of the people, not someone who uses that power for personal interests alone. All of this is a huge change from where we started out: cutesy kids going off on comparatively low-stakes adventures because one or more of their teammates are invested, only just beginning to realize that they're signing up for a job where their desires come second (that fireside conversation at Mountain Glenn).

This change invites — demands, really — that the audience read them differently too. Qrow's spiral in Volume 6 is a good example of this. If Ruby is demanding to be treated not just as an equal in terms of maturity and experience, but also as the primary leader of this group, then the viewer expects her to treat her uncle as an equal too, not dismiss his hardship. I've seen numerous fans defend that arc with some version of, "He's her uncle. He's supposed to take care of her. He's failing" but that, according to the show, is no longer the dynamic. Qrow is now just a member of Ruby's team, someone she's responsible for as their leader. It's easiest to see the problem if we switch out Qrow for any of the other members. If Blake developed a drinking problem, do we think Ruby would just shout at her until she magically got over it? If Jaune endangered the group, do we think they'd all be angry about it, rather than trying to figure out the source of what caused the mistake? We don't even need to think hypothetically for that one because we saw it on screen. Jaune attacked Oscar and drove him off, not just threatening him, but arguably endangering the whole team by requiring a search party. Fans have long insisted they had to steal that airship right then because being in Argus was too much of a risk, but if we buy that reading (which I personally don't, but), then that means Jaune made things exponentially worse by forcing them out into that super dangerous city, rather than allowing everyone to stay hidden inside. He made a massive mistake which, according to the logic of Qrow's arc, should be met with frustration, disdain, and eventual demands to get over his anger at Ozpin or ship out. But, of course, he received nothing but concern. Yang was worried about him, not Oscar. The search becomes about his grief for Pyrrha and his team's willingness (as well as Pyrrha's family member) to provide more comfort. Suddenly, the tendency to express care solely towards those within the group becomes a flaw the story won't acknowledge.

And then it spirals. The thing to remember is that no single act here is bad on its own, especially when we consider that yes, we want flawed characters. Rather, it's about the pattern. Ruby is allowed to get mad at Qrow for his behavior and chuck her scroll in frustration. She's human. I'd be crazy frustrated too. However, if Ruby is meant to be written as a caring, sympathetic character, she should not only respond to the situation with frustration, yelling, a refusal to listen, and demands that he follow her lead, no questions asked. We can, and should, acknowledge that Weiss was the victim during that party. Her father was hurting her, the woman was beyond insensitive, Weiss was triggered in regards to a horrific event, and her power acted on its own. However, if we want to write Weiss as a compassionate, mature huntress to-be, she should acknowledge that she nearly killed someone — even an asshole someone — and vow to work on her control because she's not willing to put someone in danger like that ever again. Both of these moments have a "They could have been handled better" response attached to them — the former more-so than the latter imo — but these moments are made far, far worse due to later events in the show, events where the characters are cruel without any justification attached. Weiss didn't mean to attack that woman, but she did mean to ignore Whitely and threaten him with her weapon. So once we see that, it informs our understanding of what came before it. "Oh. The fact that Weiss never reacted to nearly killing someone isn't just a bit of missed potential, it's an early indicator that she... doesn't seem to care. If she endangers people, threatens people... that's fine with her." The group has a right to be frustrated with Qrow. The group did not have the right to magically steal Ozpin's entire life story, assault him, and blame him for the world's problems until he felt his only course of action was to run from them. So when we see that it becomes, "Oh. The fact that the group treated Qrow so poorly isn't just a one-time mistake born of a stressful situation and young adults being out of their depth in regards to alcoholism. They really will just abandon anyone the moment they start making mistakes." Anyone outside of their group, that is.

To say nothing of how all of these moments interconnect. Yang's recovery isn't just about getting used to not having an arm, it's about getting used to having a new one. Weiss' party isn't just about nearly killing someone, it's about not committing manslaughter because someone else stepped in. The Volume 6 arc isn't just about trying to escape with the Relic, it's about trying to get it somewhere safe. Fans frustrated with Ironwood's treatment don't harp on these details out of some desperate attempt to make him look good post-murder spree, rather, they recognize that he's a character that's been around since nearly the beginning, originally written as a good guy, and thus has accumulated a number of key connections with the cast. So when none of those connections are acknowledged during an arc about trust... that makes the group look very uncaring. Yang doesn't care that he gave her the arm, Weiss doesn't care that he saved her from hurting/potentially killing someone, Qrow doesn't care that he's trusted Ironwood for years (in a rival-bros way) and that they've been heading towards him this whole time. And when Ironwood begins to spiral, they don't do anything to try and help him, let alone acknowledge that their own choices, that lack of trust and empathy, had a hand in getting them here. "But it's not their responsibility to fix him!" Isn't it? Even a little? Just as human beings seeing an ally struggling under horrific decisions and circumstances? Sure, they don't have to try... but that doesn't make them look very heroic to my mind. And we can't even shrug that off by simplifying things with, "Well, Ironwood is evil now so who cares about him." They simultaneously don't care about finding Qrow who is missing, then captured. They don't do anything to try and find their missing teammates, with the exception of sending May to do it instead. They don't help the army fight off the grimm. Don't try to make sure Pietro and Maria had portals to escape through. Barely hesitate when the newly resurrected characters goes, "Kill me. That's the easiest thing for everyone." And these are just a few of the big ticket moments. It doesn't even begin to cover all the details we get that paint a picture of, "Wow okay. They just really don't care about people outside the group, huh? I mean, they say they do, in a life-or-death way, but they're not putting forth effort to show it on a daily basis."

And if you pick up on all that, if you acknowledge how much the group has changed based on where they started out, you might wonder when in the world that started. Surely we didn't just flip a switch around Volume 6. So you re-watch early stuff and, sure enough, there are moments that feel like setup for what's to come later. Not intentional setup (quite obviously), but a lack of care towards details across the series that, once the dynamic changed, became far, far more pronounced. Characters should be at least somewhat recognizable from start to finish, especially characters who have only experienced about two years of in-world time, so if we now get to see Ruby blandly commenting on all the people who are dying, or Weiss using her weapon as a means of coercing her little brother into doing what she wants, or Yang and Jaune dismissing Ren until he gives in to their point of view... we're going to look for the beginnings of that behavior early on. As you say, we were able to wave all those little details off due to a number of important factors. Now though? Now they feel like they hold a lot more weight, simply by virtue of that early material proceeding what we have now.

#rwby #rwde #mymetas

[cherrynojutsu]

Title: Like Gold

Summary: Sasuke grapples with love and intimacy regarding his developing relationship with Sakura after returning to the village from his journey of redemption. Kind of a character study on Sasuke handling an intimate relationship after dealing with PTSD and survivor’s guilt in solitude for so long. Blank period, canon-compliant, Sasuke-centric, lots of fluff and pining, slowly becomes a smut fest with feelings.

Disclaimer: I did not write Naruto. This is a fan-made piece solely created for entertainment purposes.

Rating: M (eventual nsfw-ness)

AO3 Link - FF.net Link - includes beginning/ending author's notes

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Chapter 7/?: Catalysts

Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often, despite the frustrating paradox that is the male endocrine system’s apparent determination to make him do so. He finds it feels… empty, after. Like there’s supposed to be something more, but instead there’s just whatever is situated above his head to stare at while his breathing levels out, an interminable abyss of silence and stars, or tree foliage, or apartment ceiling. Impulses and feelings of a sexual nature are probably normal for anyone his age, but in the past, satiating desires like this has made him feel guilty, given the context.

When he's not plagued by nightmares rife with gore and blood and bodies, or the occasional aching memory, his subconscious takes the opportunity to bombard him with dreams of a suggestive nature, having deduced somehow that it’s the most effective method to get him to… tend to things.

This variety of dream customarily involves pale pink hair, multifaceted eyes, and soft fingertips, branded into the part of his brain that controls his most base instincts with a hot iron.

He notes begrudgingly as he gazes at plain plaster above him, brows furrowed, that ostensibly, it works well enough, if the intricate mess of thoughts and feelings in his head and on his abdomen are anything to go by.

Sasuke would never admit it to anyone, but Sakura has headlined exclusively in nearly every sexually-charged dream he's ever had, and resultingly the majority of his sentient thoughts while indulging outside of dreaming, too. When they were Genin, it was innocent enough; he had reasoned that, being the main girl his age he associated with, it made sense his inadvertent dreams, beyond the scope of his control, involved her. He'd shaken it off in those early days as the by-product of the developing hormonal cocktail that is the pubescent masculine mind, and ignored the part of himself that kind of had a crush on her even then. Or definitively more than a crush, after the Chunin Exams and the hospital and jealousy.

He had tried convincing himself of the same thing at fourteen, once he'd left the village and had attempted to sever all bonds. It didn’t work, though; by that point he knew better, knew what the feeling he was trying to squash actually was.

Which meant it didn’t work at fifteen, either.

Nor sixteen, and definitely not seventeen, eighteen, or nineteen.

All of that has been wholly indecent on its own in the past, causing him to feel shameful every time it happens, and even more ashamed if it’s a rare day where he’s weak enough to act on it, a day where he wakes up mere seconds from an edge rather than minutes.

But this morning, he woke up on the tail end of all of that with the addition of freckles , of all things to fixate on, and he just knows he's never going to forget about them now, that they’re branded into his grey matter in perpetuity. Freckles just above the interior of a shoulder, eight of them, a small scattering he had been pressing his lips to, listening to a softly whispered Sasuke-kun, reaching around her with his only arm, so he could make her say his name like that again.

It is far from the first time he’s touched himself to the thought of Sakura, but it is the first time he’s indulged since they’ve been… together.

Except this time felt… different.

Less like an unrealistic reverie he should try to abstain from and more like an eventuality. Less guilt, too, or rather, almost none, because he’s in a relationship with her now, and he’s pretty sure he’s supposed to have feelings like this regarding her. Not that he is anywhere near ready to do anything about them, because he absolutely is not; he’s not certain he even comprehends that level of vulnerability, to touch another person and allow yourself to be touched by them, though he badly wants to, someday.

No, Sasuke doesn’t indulge in baser needs often… but he did this morning, when he woke up teetering just on the precipice, fantasizing about tiny tan flecks seen and unseen, and he’s trying to work through how he feels about it, this guilt surrounding the fact of not feeling guilty like he ordinarily does, as well as the lingering curiosity he’s struggling to force down regarding how many other freckles Sakura has.

Even moreso, he yearns for soft words that he has often thought may be sentimental to the point of being utterly quixotic. It's why he doesn’t typically submit to this kind of inclination in the first place; it’s meaningless on one’s own, he secretly thinks, though he has nothing to compare it to. No sense of connection or true lasting fulfillment like he imagines there must be, for people to talk about it the way they do; just pleasure that's there for a blinding scattered second and gone the next, with nothing tenderhearted or meaningful in the moments following as his vision refocuses and he picks up the pieces.

He stares at his ceiling, an aporia of longing and complicated compulsions ricocheting in the hallways of his head, or perhaps from his skull to the roof and back again, an absurd push and pull that leaves him with more questions than answers.

Has she ever thought about him the way he thinks about her?

What would it sound like, Sasuke-kun, when she’s like that?

Is it okay to feel like this, now? To think about her in this regard?

Sasuke is accustomed to not sleeping well - it comes with the territory of his lived experience, an unfortunate fact of life he’s somewhat learned to deal with - but during the mission to Sand, he'd slept fairly restfully, though in short increments of five or six hours. That's apparently the tipping point of how long he gets to go without being sojourned by some variety of vision in the night.

He eventually makes his way to the shower, using torrid water and soap to double cleanse what’s left of his mess. That's a big contributor to his consternation, too; it's so embarrassingly messy that it’s impossible to imagine ever doing anything like it with her . He flips the dial to cold after he’s bathed for the better portion of five minutes, because serpens caput is still burned into his retinas, and he’s hoping against hope to freeze it out of himself like he has tried to do with shame in the past.

It doesn’t work; it just induces shivering, algidity overwhelming the senses but doing nothing to distract the mind.

He shoves his face into his book after, desperate for the distraction a proverbial fiction featuring an old fisherman can provide and thinking once again that he needs to acquire a lamp. Anything to get the thought of pressing his lips to her freckles out of his head, because he’s pretty sure if he keeps thinking about it, he’ll have to take care of things for the second time today, and then he really won’t know how to feel.

So when a banging erupts on his apartment door shortly following eight, followed by a shout of, “TEME! I'm here, let’s go!”, all he can think is finally, because he knows it will at least get his mind off of this strange lack of guilt and a curiosity he’s not ready to unpack yet. The book helped, but he thinks he needs the challenge a fight against Naruto can provide to truly leave behind this level of prurience. He doesn’t know how he’s going to look her in the eye when they meet at three as they planned, otherwise.

Sasuke shoves on his sandals and grabs his chokuto before opening the door. “So you finally showed. Thought you'd sleep all morning.”

Naruto’s eyes narrow, indignant and already launching into a retort. Good. Maybe he’ll get some iota of order knocked back into him, enough to put compelling constellations away for the time being.

XXX

Sasuke feels monumentally better by noon. It’s another draw, an absolute whirlwind of swinging limbs that made it impossible to focus on anything else. He didn’t take joy in it necessarily, and he suspects Naruto bruised his ulna bone to the extent it almost cracked, but it helps, the diversion of pain; the tinge he feels when he moves it is a welcome hindrance. They’d stuck mainly to taijutsu and clashing weaponry, so physically, he’s pretty exhausted.

They’re resting in the dirt, making a valiant attempt at rehydrating. It’s moderately hot for this time of year, barely on the cusp of mid April, but it’s seeming like the Konoha heat will be returning with the same vengeance it always does. A small trickle of sweat sinks its way down his back.

Sasuke feels nearly normal again. Or normal to the extent he generally feels, anyways. He gets the urge to do something good - to tip the scale, so to speak.

"...The cutting board works. Thank you." It’s not what he’s most thankful for right now, but it’s a nice thing to say as substitution.

His friend grins at him. "Welcome! It was all me, by the way. Hinata-chan didn't even help me pick it out!" Naruto scratches his head, downing more water. He’s moving rather slowly, as if he is sore, too; Sasuke thinks perhaps he came close to beating him this round.

They stare upwards for a while, soaking in the sun as clouds roll lazily by. Birds fly overhead, finches and song sparrows twittering their selections, collecting materials to build more nests for this new season. It’s another effective distraction, one that fills him with a sense of nostalgia, replacing his earlier sense of compunction regarding the mystifying concept of physical love and the whims that accompany it.

Naruto speaks up after a bit. "Ne, teme, wanna go to the market with me? Hinata-chan asked me to get some groceries and some stuff for the backyard."

Sasuke glances at his teammate and contemplates. It can't hurt. He did want to pick up potatoes to make actual curry with, and he could get some other things, too. He'll still have time to shower before he meets Sakura at the hospital.

"...Sure."

Naruto takes longer to rise than he does, shuffling carefully as if he is in pain, but once he’s standing, he seems fine enough, stupid grin slapped on his face at Sasuke’s agreement to go with. They set off in the general direction of his building so he can drop off his weapon first. He gets dirty looks sometimes, walking around, though it’s not nearly as bad as when he first returned and it doesn’t bother him on the same level that it used to. When he’s with Naruto or Sakura, he gets less of them, but he can't imagine a sword strapped to his back in the market will do much to help his reputation.

Naruto doesn't allow the easy silence to last. "Y'know, teme, it's really good to have you back in the village. It feels like everything's finally coming together. We'll have to do some fun stuff this summer. And also in the fall!” Gears are turning behind cerulean eyes, and he adds, ”...Hmm, and the winter, too!"

"...Yeah." He stares at the mountain, thinking about what cherry blossom trees look like in summer and fall and winter. It will be nice to see the one across the street change colors throughout the seasons. Or the one on the hill, where they're going later today. He has seen their like numbering in the thousands, scattered everywhere on his journey - he’s highly cognizant of them, for obvious reasons - but he hasn’t been granted the privilege of watching the same one through the whole of a year’s growth cycle in a long time.

"Sakura-chan seems really cheery lately, too. Can't imagine why." The second sentence is said flippantly, without any real conviction, as if Naruto knows exactly why.

Sasuke glances at his teammate, neck warming and heart skipping a little at the mention of her. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of hearing that Sakura is happy from secondhand sources; it makes him feel like he’s doing something right for once. Maybe not all his impulses are complicated in nature enough to require dissection, as he was accustomed to doing when he was away; spending time with her is one, and he's been indulging it often.

He briefly entertains the idea of outright telling Naruto that they're together, then, but the dobe is moving on before he comes up with the words. "Well, anyways. Wanna spar Monday morning, if neither of us get a mission by then?”

That’s… specific. Maybe he doesn’t need to say anything to him, after all; he’s sure it’s no coincidence that Naruto is asking about the exact time period Sakura is busy training with Ino, probably as aware of her schedule as Kakashi is. Their old sensei might have told him, he supposes, or maybe Sakura said something; Sasuke wonders when he last saw her.

“...Sure. If you think you can handle it.”

The response he gets is a slug on the left shoulder, but it’s not overly hard. Sasuke narrows his eyes in response more out of habit than any real malice. He sees as Naruto’s hand retreats and slips out of a fist that words are written on his palm. He didn’t notice it throughout the morning due to their hands constantly being locked around weapons or thrown in punches, and he resists the urge to roll his eyes; it's likely a grocery list.

Naruto leans against the brick downstairs while Sasuke drops off his sword, and then they head to the main market area as the dobe chatters. It’s fairly busy, it being a Saturday, but it’s not intolerably so; most people are busy eating around now.

Sasuke is completely unsurprised when Naruto beelines straight for the noodles; naturally he would be out of them. He takes the opportunity to procure a blend of wild rice. Thus far he only has white and brown in his own pantry, and he’s been trying to eat it often. He's always liked rice, but it’s high in calories, too, an easy way to try putting on weight. Another variety to choose from would be beneficial.

He trails after his friend to the baking supplies next, where Naruto examines containers of flour and sugar. Sasuke concludes Hinata must bake, because he’s confident any cookie prepared by the dobe could not possibly be edible. While his teammate is occupied, Sasuke turns the corner and procures a half dozen eggs, a large bag of potatoes, and two different varieties of tomatoes. The extra five pounds of weight held in the crook of his arm doesn’t do wonders for his bruised bone situation, but it’s not wholly unbearable; he’s fairly used to dealing with pain.

“Hinata-chan said to go to the gardening stall on the north end,” Naruto says once they’ve paid and exited the building, so they begin a course in that general direction. “She said they have the best perennial bulbs; that means they come back every year!”

Sasuke twitches, surprised he can even pronounce the word perennial if he’s lived this long without knowing what one is.

“Anyways, she wants to plant some, uh…” His voice trails off, and he peeks at his hand, where Sasuke now sees the names of flowers written in feminine writing that has to be Hinata’s.

Of course. Like he could spell the words, let alone read his own sloppy handwriting.

“Iris, phlox, and uh… echo-na-na-chee-ah.”

“Echinachea,” Sasuke corrects dully, giving him a withering look.

“Sure! That! She wants to plant those in the backyard, kind of line the house with them, since the front is looking pretty nice now. She said to get bulbs; they root better. They might bloom this year, but if not, they’ll for sure come in next year!”

“...And she entrusted you with this?” Sasuke asks, raising an eyebrow.

Naruto just laughs, utterly unphased. “Duh, that’s what the list is for, teme. Hinata-chan is super smart like that. Putting it on my hand makes sure I don’t lose it!”

They meander to the northern edge of the market, past the congregation of other stalls selling seeds and garden starters. It's getting towards the end of planting season for Fire Country, but there is still plenty to choose from here, allegorical gates of green swinging open in salutation. They pass some tomato plant starters, already starting to climb their cages, but Sasuke decides against it; his hand is full presently, and the bone still kind of hurts, and none of them are red heirloom tomatoes anyways, being smaller variations like plum or cherry or grape. He likes all tomatoes, honestly, but if he was going to grow one, he’d just want the one of a favorite to worry about. Repotting a starter would also require a planter, which he doesn’t have; another thing to carry.

The stall Naruto leads them to is probably the nicest one there, judiciously laid out and everything labeled neatly with precise calligraphy. The few tables the vendor has are overflowing with perennial starters, but Naruto goes to the three vertical displays of seeds and bulbs, so tall they are at eye level with both of them. They’re filled to the brim with diminutive packages, printed with large pictures of the flowers they contain the beginnings of, along with genus names and common names in smaller text. The blond examines them, surveying his hand, then the display, then back to his hand again in scrutiny.

Sasuke watches, resisting the urge to sigh and waiting for the inevitable.

“Hmm… I guess this would be a lot easier if I knew what any of these looked like. Gonna have to read them all.”

Sasuke rolls his eyes and steps forward to point to the section of iris bulbs to start with. He gives him a minute to work out which colors to pick, observing the throng of people entering and exiting around them, young and old and in-between.

Phlox are next; he directs his teammate to the appropriate section, where there are quite a few options of hues. Naruto examines them as if he is making a grand decision transformative in nature, mumbling to himself.

“Hmm… She likes blue and purple. Maybe I should…”

His own gaze wanders as he tunes Naruto out, taking in pictures of begonias and caladium on plastic shiny in the sunlight, before his vision locks on the far display.

He wanders over to it as if his body is moving of its own accord.

There are several varieties of lilies, he learns as he scans the packaging, oriental, trumpet, and what is apparently called nerine. White nerine lilies had been the variety his mother grew, lining their yard with curved porcelain petals, clusters emanating from many single stems.

He sets his groceries at his feet to free up his hand, picking up one of the packages to read the instructions on the back. His arm aches as he does so, but he couldn’t care less.

Nerine lily bulbs require good drainage. If there are still puddles in the prospective planting area 5-6 hours after rain, locate another site, or amend the soil with organic material to raise levels 2-3 inches. Nerine lilies also require soil that is somewhat gritty, though it also must be organically rich. Adding compost may increase nutrient content.

In spring, choose a location in full sun. If you are in a hotter region, site them where they will receive morning sun and afternoon shade, and plant the bulbs with an inch of the slender top above the soil surface. The top of the bulb is the area that looks like the stem of an onion. Install bulbs 8 to 11 inches apart for a massed look.

Nerine bulbs develop foliage that gather sun rays and strengthen the plants during the spring and summer months. Flower stalks develop in the fall. Provide water when the plants are actively growing, and very little when they are dormant.

You may cut the final flower stems to display decoratively. This will not hurt the plants and the cuts last long periods of time indoors. After they finish blooming for the year, cut off any remaining flower stalks. Your plants will rest for the winter months before sending up new growth in the springtime. Over time, nerine lilies will form clumps. They like to be crowded, so don’t feel pressed to divide them unless flower production begins to decrease. Clumps can then be dug, split apart, and moved to other parts of the garden, or shared with friends.

When Sasuke looks up, deep in thought, he notices Naruto searching for what he assumes is echinacea, flitting stiffly at random between the first two displays and scratching his head. Wordlessly with the package of lily bulbs still in hand, Sasuke points to the bottom right corner of the first, where several color selections are.

“Thanks, teme!” Naruto plows back to the specified stand and stoops down comically slowly, though Sasuke barely sees, gaze drawn pensively back to the packet he was examining.

The memorial stone has decent drainage, aside from the occasional hard rain like last weekend; that will become less common as the weather warms, and one or two monsoons a summer never drowned his mother’s lilies. Shade in the afternoon could be an issue, though. There’s a large oak tree on the west side that might cast some protection over it, but he only ever visits under the cover of night, so he’s unsure. He would have to examine the trajectory in person to gauge.

He considers the market bag the groceries were handed to him in earlier, studying it closely.

Carefully, he puts the package back where he found it, though his eyes linger on it. He’s no gardener, not like Sakura is, and besides, his arm hurts.

XXX

He’s leaning up against one of the blue columns outside of the hospital when Sakura emerges at three, sprightly as ever. She’s holding the two journals and the medical text from their first trip to the library; she said yesterday that she needed to return them, but there shouldn’t be any new ones she needs to check out just yet. He hadn’t stayed terribly long after they’d finished the tenmusu because he needed to shower and write his mission report, but they’d made plans to swing by the library and journey back up the hillside to read together again. There was also mention of possibly picking up food afterwards, to take to her place. Hazel Wood must be in her tote, hooked around her shoulder.

“Sasuke-kun,” she greets cheerfully. “Whew. It’s getting warm out already.”

“...It is,” Sasuke comments before he extends his hand for her texts, his own already held there, a silent offer to carry them for her.

She blushes as she passes them to him, sliding them into his hand. His eyes drift to the freckle on her cheek, and he wipes his mind blank by sheer willpower alone as they head east. The books aren’t as heavy as the groceries had been earlier, so it doesn’t hurt as much, but he's wondering at this point if the bone might actually have a small crack. He thinks he should ask her to look at it; maybe later, at her apartment.

“My balcony days may be numbered by now, at least until the fall comes,” Sakura observes as they meander.

He contemplates. “...Do you sit out there often?” It is so utterly befitting of her that he thinks he can picture it, her reading out there, surrounded by plants. He wonders if she ever admires the night sky. Their team had stargazed sometimes, on missions that first year as Genin.

Green eyes settle on him from his right. “I like to, when it’s nice out. A lot of times in the summer it gets too hot, though there is an occasional night when it’s cool enough. Fall is really the best for it. You can see the changing leaves from above. Even if it's a chillier day, it’s pleasant with some tea and a blanket in the evening."

He debates for a long moment, but decides against bringing up stout squirrels or chestnut-flavored everything or Naruto slipping on a leaf.

“...It sounds nice,” he comments simply instead, wondering if he’ll be invited to sit with her on her balcony, once fall arrives. They would have to sit kind of close; the space doesn’t seem very big from below, and it's cluttered with greenery.

Sakura smiles up at him, a look that says she agrees with his assessment.

Then, she offers softly, "You can sit out there sometime with me, if you'd like."

His neck warms; all he can do is nod and avert his gaze elsewhere, an abundance of something tender and sweet flaring to life in his belly.

Returning the books barely takes two minutes; they’re wandering towards the outskirts of the mountain in short order. Sakura sprawls in the same spot she did last time, so he takes up the same position, too, leaning up against the trunk of the tree, stable and strong.

And then his eyes catch on another freckle she has, this one near her elbow, and all he can think about is the slightly textured consistency of his ceiling, and whether the impulse to press his lips to her skin without guilt was an okay thing to feel.

She reads and he more contemplates than reads for about an hour, sprawled beneath the scant amount of shade provided by this tree that has lost its petals, trading them in for florets of a greener variety. It’s pleasant, once he can drown his inner disarray of thoughts. He eventually gets through a sliver of his book, though turning the pages is a little cumbersome, tinged lightly with pain. Perhaps he shouldn’t wait until later to ask her to examine his arm.

Sakura finishes her own book, though she keeps the pressed petal between its pages; she must have gotten through more of it while he was on the way to and from Suna. She just reclines there, after, looking up at the sky with her arms at her sides, near exactly the relaxed pose she used to lie in when they were younger.

Sasuke finishes the passage he’s on, and marks his place with the petal she’d plucked from his hair last week, before pointedly setting the text aside and following her eyes to the azure. Fluffy clouds are floating by as the sun inches closer to the west horizon, pushed steadily by the breeze.

“How is Ichika’s recommendation?” She questions.

“...Interesting.” He genuinely is enjoying reading it, despite his aberration.

Her head angles towards him, lying against a gnarled root at a slightly different angle. Her expression is curious, like she’s encouraging him to elaborate.

“Simple, but heavy with metaphors.” He considers for a second, then adds, “You might like it. Poetic.”

Full lips twist upwards. “Maybe I’ll read it next. Her recommendations are usually pretty apt; she gets a good read on people.”

“...How was yours?”

“Hmm.” She pauses, as if thinking it over. “A girl and her mother who get caught up in some bad luck. They inherit an estate - that’s where the title comes from - and supernatural things start happening. It’s kind of a story within a story situation; the grandmother they inherited the house from was an author, so they start going back and reading her writing for clues.”

“...A mystery.” It seems like she’ll read any genre. Mysteries would probably entertain her; she’s always liked to solve things.

She laughs, music to his ears. “Yeah, I suppose it is. It was pretty good. Well written; better than the last one.”

There is a pause.

“...Maybe I’ll read it next,” he echoes, her same words from earlier.

Green sparkles at him, amused before she shifts back towards the firmament.

“...Sounds like a book club.”

It is the most Sakura joke. He huffs a ghost of a laugh as more gauzy clouds drift idly by. It is peaceful, sitting here underneath the same sky as her, observing in easy silence through branches with fresh emerald buds.

And then Sasuke flexes his forearm, shifting slightly, and it still hurts. He considers; she probably won’t mind.

"...I think Naruto cracked my arm bone," he finally confides.

She turns to him, expression fluctuating immediately into one of disquiet, pink brows knotting closer in concern. He blinks and she's standing already, walking over and sitting cross-legged in the nearest open space, an indent in gnarled roots that she navigated through and found a place in as if it were nothing.

Wordlessly, Sasuke holds it out for her to inspect once she’s seated, and she gently rests her fingertips on his forearm.

"It’s from this morning?” Sakura asks, looking concerned in a way that makes his heart thump a little. Or maybe it’s from her hands encircling his skin.

He nods; she must have deduced that they trained earlier. She prods gently before threading green chakra beneath his skin towards the bone, probing for a break.

She frowns. "Oblique fracture in the ulna, though it's very slight and non-displaced.” Her gaze flicks up to him, and all at once, it’s the exam room again, him hyper aware of how close she is to him even though this is clinician Sakura. “I’ll fix it; you really shouldn't have been carrying anything on it."

It takes him a moment to realize she’s referring to him carrying her books earlier, because he’s thinking about the groceries from the market, which were definitively heavier. Her proximity and the aroma of tart berry and the freckle on her cheekbone are all incredibly distracting. Especially the freckle. He peers at her fingers, glowing verdant, and notices one on the inner portion of her right wrist, too.

"...Sorry." He says finally, flicking his eyes back up to her nervously after a long minute is spent mending marrow back together. She inclines her head back down to his arm, apparently accepting his apology for not mentioning it sooner. It's an odd sensation; he can feel the crack fusing from the inside out, ataractic chakra seeping into the diaphysis to fortify.

He feels like he should clarify, so he adds as she works, eyes fixed on her face which has settled in concentration, “I thought it was just bruised at first.” She nods as if that makes sense, working on it for another minute or so without glancing up.

He hopes she's not mad at him. Sasuke shifts his gaze downwards, something in him sinking.

“Flex it, then bend, please,” she requests, not moving her digits; she must need to feel the arm move to determine if it’s healed. He does as she asks and it’s notedly improved, no lingering pain.

“It’s better. Thank you.” He looks upwards just as she does, hoping the jade will still be soft on charcoal.

It is, startlingly so, and she’s flushing all of a sudden, dropping her hands from his arm and rising to her feet a step away, as if she, too, just realized how close they were. It's different here, daylight and not part of their routine like her entryway is becoming.

“You’re welcome,” she says somewhat hastily, complexion darkening. He’s not sure he’s much better; his neck is warm, and he remembers very specifically where each of her fingers had just been on his skin, like the ten points of contact are singed into his epidermis, and likely his grey matter, too.

As he tries to force his pulse to even out, Sakura adds, softly, “You could have just come in with him.”

His brows furrow in confusion. “...What?”

Sakura blinks, countenance appearing as if she is sorting through a problem in her head. Pink dissolves back to her normal coloring.

“Naruto came in with a slipped back rib, earlier today. I assumed it was from sparring with you.” She rolls her eyes, then. “He went and got groceries before coming in; he had them with him. Luckily nothing chilled; he had to wait for a bit.”

"...He didn't say anything about his rib." Now the slow rising and crouching is making more sense.

She sighs, closing her eyes for a second as if something has become clear, but she only replies, "Ah. Of course."

"...Wouldn’t shut up?"

"...Yeah." She turns away slightly, cheeks stained anew for some reason; it makes him curious what their third teammate babbled to her about. "He said as I was kicking him out that he was going to plant flower bulbs with Hinata this afternoon. He showed me the ones he picked. It’s good timing; the perfect time of year to plant some. Pretty soon it'll be too warm."

He lets those words drizzle slowly into his being, a little gentler than a summer monsoon.

"...Our next Hokage can't pronounce echinacea," he eventually tells her.

She chuckles with mirth, a sweet sound he finds relieving; she must have gathered he was present for that endeavor, now, and she can't be too mad at him if he can still make her laugh. Sasuke inwardly hopes she doesn’t gather that he also got groceries; he doesn’t think she’d be very impressed. It was kind of stupid to do that with a questionable arm, in retrospect.

"No," Sakura acknowledges finally, appearing highly entertained. "And he didn’t know what a perennial was until this morning, yet he’s planting an army of them. Probably without reading the directions."

They look over the village together for a lengthy moment in which he considers text printed on the back of a white package.

Then she says his name, so quietly it’s almost a whisper. "Sasuke-kun.”

He angles to her, and sweet jade is on him again, ebbing seafoam cresting as the late afternoon sunlight hits her.

"Thank you for telling me about your arm. In the future, please come to the hospital, if I'm working. You can wait in my office, if you’d prefer. I don't mind; use the window.” Her expression changes to troubled, and suddenly she is no longer the clinician version of Sakura; everything is tinged with something more, something that burns him in its intensity. “You shouldn’t just… suffer in silence, if something hurts. Even if you think it’s nothing. Please tell me."

Oh. She’s not mad, just worried. Heat grazes his ears, and he swallows, staring down at his forearm.

He wants to be close to her. He really does.

"Okay,” he agrees, and means it, carefully meeting green.

They head down the hill together to seek dinner before the rush hits, deciding to go to the yakitori stand she mentioned when he first returned. She chatters about how Naruto wants to have a bonfire in his backyard, once summer’s here and everything is planted.

“...He’s excited about his yard,” Sasuke comments after they’ve ordered, leaning against the wall of the exterior waiting for their takeout. He requested his without the sauce, since Sakura said it’s on the sweeter side for yakitori.

Sakura grins, and she’s really pretty, shadows of a nearby tree dappling her skin, cheeks still red because he paid. It’s only fair; she’s been feeding him. “Yeah, he is. I’d like to see their flowers and garden in the back, eventually. I’m sure once they’ve got it how they want it, they’ll have all kinds of get-togethers back there. Last year we carved pumpkins at their place, instead of at Ino’s and Sai’s; there’s less mess to clean up if it’s outside. He said today that you should come this year.”

“...What?”

She blinks as if remembering something, then smiles sheepishly. “So I never mentioned this, because it happened after I…” She flushes, and she looks away for a second. “...After I sent a letter for the month already, but Sai learned about this artistic thing they do in the Land of Woods, a couple years ago.” Her gaze shifts back to his. “They hollow out pumpkins and carve designs into them, in late October. Warding off evil spirits as they go into the cooler season or something; they put them on their doorsteps with candles in them so the carvings light up the night. It’s odd, but I think it’s become a tradition now. It’s fun, once you get the hang of it. We roast the seeds with salt and Hinata bakes pumpkin bread.”

That sounds entirely odd and completely characteristic of Sai; he supposes there is the artistic angle to consider. Sasuke passed through the Land of Woods three separate times, but never in the fall. “What kind of designs?”

She smiles as if she’s trying not to laugh; his expression must be that of one who is exceedingly perplexed. He supposes it’s not an expression he wears often. “Well, they’re supposed to be scary, I think, but we don’t really do well at making them that way. They’re more funny or decorative. Sai makes pretty good ones, I guess, mean faces with sharp teeth.”

“...What do you carve?”

Her eyes twinkle. “I tried a leaf, the first year, and a crescent moon the second. Sai and I teamed up to carve one for Kakashi-sensei, too, last year; a scarecrow with a cat.”

A crescent moon is not at all what he would have guessed she’d gravitate towards; he thinks immediately of the Six Paths Yin Seal that once adorned a hand he no longer has. Then he comprehends the final part of that sentence.

“...A cat?”

“Oh. Yeah, he got a cat.”

“...His summons are dogs.”

She giggles. “Yeah, Naruto and I thought it was weird at first, too, but he does kind of seem like he’d be more of a cat person overall, the more we thought about it.” Sakura shrugs. “He’s in the village most of the time now, being Hokage, so I guess he thought he could be around enough to take care of one? They’re more low-maintenance than a dog would be. I usually get tasked with feeding it and changing its litter, when he travels to watch the Chunin and Jonin Exams.”

Momentarily, he wonders if Sakura knows what’s under Kakashi’s mask; their old sensei allowing her into his space in his absence may have given her opportunities for some form of low-key reconnaissance on the matter.

Then his brain seizes on another notion, one that’s far more amusing, because she said she teamed up with Sai, and that can only mean one thing.

“...What does Naruto carve?”

Sakura’s grin widens as if she perceives exactly what thought he’s just had. She probably does; she knows him well. “He’s terrible at it. His never look like anything; just orange mush. He loves it, though, and Hinata puts it on their front step anyway.”

He snorts. Figures.

A bell dings, so they peer back in, and sure enough, their food is ready. Sakura steps forward to collect it, thanking the worker, but as she turns, she pauses.

Sasuke follows her gaze, and sees none other than their third teammate in the street, walking their direction and waving emphatically. He’s wearing a different pair of pants, knees absolutely covered in dirt and grass stains.

“Oi, teme! Sakura-chan!”

Sakura glances up to him before swiveling towards the road, their food in hand; Sasuke trails close behind, pushing apart the hanging banners of the stand as he steps beyond the threshold of the restaurant.

“Naruto,” Sakura greets when they’re out in the open.

“...Dobe.”

“Looks like you’ve planted everything,” Sakura says more than asks, gesturing to his pants as evidence.

“Hehe, yep, all of ‘em! It was work, but it will be worth it, later in the year.” Naruto scratches his head, grinning. Sasuke lets those words sink in, too, drenching dead roots.

“And now you’re getting Hinata yakitori as a treat?” Sakura pushes, seeming incredibly amused.

“Well…” Naruto looks away bashfully, grinning ear to ear. “Yeah. Gotta repay her somehow. She has good ideas. I just follow her lead.” He looks back to them, then. “Did you tell teme about all our awesome plans?”

Sasuke’s focus falls to Sakura, who is flushed, biting her lip in a smile.

“I may have started to.”

“Well, good, because our yard is going to be totally the best, and if he thinks he’s getting out of it...” the dobe points at him accusingly, “Then I’ll kick his ass!”

Sasuke scoffs. “As if you could.”

Sakura shakes her head, pink locks fluttering with the motion. “Always with the physicalities... Anyways, I’m sure it will be lovely, when everything finally comes together.”

An uncommonly stretched pause passes where blue eyes zero in on the food container Sakura is holding, before they travel up to the two of them.

The grin shifts to something remarkably tender.

“...Yeah. I’m sure it will be.” He says it with the utmost confidence, like he is as certain about it as he is about the sun rising tomorrow, and Sasuke gets the sense that he is no longer referring to gardening.

The moment passes, and then Naruto is punching them each on the shoulder respectively and sidestepping away towards the yakitori stand. “Anyways, gotta go, so I’ll catch ya later! I’m guessing you have plans of your own.”

Sasuke blinks as their teammate disappears into the restaurant, ears burning a little. When his vision travels down to his right, Sakura is blushing a dark red. She meets his gaze, smiling sheepishly.

They turn to go to her building. The entire way there, Sasuke considers everything in the beginnings of a green that seems endless, nurtured by people from all walks of life. He has been noticing it this whole time, since his return, but now he's thinking about how dull it would be without it, whether it’s dirt roads or lifeless grey granite. This is not the wilds, where seeds sprout unabated. Here, one must put in the work to grow things, find suitable locations and till the soil.

When they reach Sakura’s apartment, his eye lingers on her plants as he follows her inside. She sets the takeout on the table by her window. A shadow of a leaf from the jasmine above them is cast hazily out of focus on her left cheek.

“Would you like any sauce with yours? I could make some teriyaki sauce quick, or I have lemons I’ll be cutting up anyway for mine.”

“...Lemon?” Citrus complements chicken, he knows, but he understands that to mean she’s planning on putting it on hers, over top of the yakitori sauce.

Her lips curve upwards. “I like it on other things, too. It’s good on yakitori.”

So Sakura slices a lemon and it sits on the center of the table between them as they eat. She drizzles her yakitori with three of them, and he takes the other three. The chicken is pretty good, tart with the citrus and seared alongside green onions. It’s still warm, as it wasn’t a long walk to her place at all, a convenient sort of sustenance.

“...What else do you like lemon on?”

She chews thoughtfully, swallowing before answering. “Hmm, a lot of things. Fish, even ones that are usually served with lime. Pork. I like it on vegetables, too. Salads, pasta, rice. Most desserts that include lemon I like, as well.” She pauses again, and adds, “Lemonade, if it’s homemade.”

No wonder they’re always in her fridge. “...And tea.”

His heart flips at the way she smiles at him.

“...And tea,” she agrees.

They watch the streets fill and empty from her window, finishing the meal in a companionable reticence, smelling faintly of citrus rind and shadowed by greenery from above.

He helps her prepare decaffeinated sencha after, trying not to stare at the freckle on her cheek. He’s pondering this morning further, the notions of impetus and yearning, and also the way she says his name, but this time uttered softly under a cherry blossom tree with an invitation into her office, if something hurts.

Sakura cares about him. A lot. Sasuke knows this, has known for years, but it’s the actions of her affection, the way she expresses it purely and simply as if it’s a true north cascading through her veins, that has inched its way into his bone marrow, engraved on the latibule he carved inwardly to avoid dry swallowing life’s more bitter medicines.

As she stirs sugar and honey into her own cup, she asks, “Care for a chess rematch?”

He doesn’t even have to think about it; he nods his assent. It’s time to test something.

They arrange the board together at her table. The first round, Sasuke cautiously plans every move, surveying alternating squares and attempting to predict what strategy Sakura will employ. In some instances, he mirrors her, moving a rook a turn after she does, shifting a pawn out of imminent danger, and so on. It’s a very involved way to play, requiring attentive calculation of each move.

It’s a prolonged match that he eventually loses with a final sweeping motion of her remaining bishop, but it’s fairly close.

“...Again?”

She grins and wordlessly starts setting up the pieces she has captured, so he begins to set up hers. It’s an interesting task, a message of opposites, her setting up his dark figures and him setting up her light ones.

The second round, he simply follows his instincts, negating planning ahead farther than a couple of turns. If he gets an impulse to shift a pawn one way, he does. If his gut tells him to move the knight into her territory or to retreat a rook, he goes with it.

It drags on for the better part of an hour, and ends in a stalemate.

The smile she gives him is breathtaking, a broad and warmhearted validation.

“You’re good,” she comments, jade eyes dancing with joy. He gets the impression that it is not often she gets forced into a draw. He wonders who else she plays with. It can't be Naruto, but maybe Sai or Ino also play.

“...So are you.” He is somewhat reassured now. His impulses used to be ruinous, stemming from anger and anxiety and loss, but perhaps his journey helped in that regard. He just needs to make sure they're rooted in the right things, whether it be logic or affection, and then the major task becomes to feel rather than to overthink.

When he kisses her good night in her entryway, another movie watched and plans for tomorrow later, he doesn’t reach for the freckle the first time, though his hand twitches with the longing to. It’s treasured, this tender pressing of lips that feels like dipping a toe into still water. It is imbued with both of her hands resting on his shoulders again, ten fingertips that have him in her grip more than she could possibly fathom.

He studies her eyes when he pulls away, staring down into soft depths of viridescence. He will drown in them someday, he thinks, slowly but surely working up the courage to wade into the deep end.

The second time he kisses her, he lets himself graze her cheek to truly appreciate the difference, allowing acknowledgment of the impulse, compelled forward rather than backward as if bound by some metaphorical form of northern star situated on the rise of her cheekbone.

Sakura leans into his touch once more as she did yesterday, but this time, she brings up her own hand and delicately lets her fingertips rest atop the outside of his, as if she encourages the caress, thumb brushing against his knuckle as his lips gently brush hers. Her other hand stays resting on his clavicle, a tender embrace, osculant in a way he has hoped for countless times, inclusive of this morning.

It is exactly what he needed, a catalyst of encouragement comprised of a heat that is gentle, coaxing, but still brands him all the same.

Maybe it's okay to want to skim her freckles and more, to allow the affinities he has to breathe. They’re together now; it stands to reason they'll one day venture into territory more uncharted, if he can concede to that kind of vulnerability. Not that he’s anywhere near ready for that - he’s not - but his instincts don’t appear to be all disastrously calamitous. Touching her cheek is something she clearly welcomes.

Sasuke gave in to darker tendencies once. Perhaps it's okay to give in to lighter ones; nothing grows in the absence of light, after all. He brushes a thumb across the high point of her cheekbone once more with her hand encompassing his before they part, embracing a new habit prior to whispering good night.

The way she smiles up at him, skin aflush and glimmering eyes, is everything.

XXX

He inspects the stone and the soil surrounding it for a long while, heavy-heartedly trying to ignore the encyclopedia of names in favor of envisioning what it would look like with lilies surrounding it. Less lugubrious, probably. The trajectory of the tree’s shadow would touch the stone in the evening, he sees, now that he’s here in person. He only ever haunts this place after nightfall when there's less chance of someone happening upon him. He wishes it was more secluded for that reason; maybe healing happens in the sunshine, and that’s why he still struggles with coming here after so many years, creature of the night that he is.

Evenings with Sakura feel like healing, though, and they linger after hours consistently. Maybe next time he’ll visit his dead kin at twilight, a brittle sort of compromise.

He'll see if the impulse still grips him tomorrow, and then decide. He knows his mother would like them. Itachi would, too, although it never feels like he's here, not the same way that it feels like the rest of them are, the air weighted with an accursed brand of perfume pouring outward in all directions.

White lilies may be able to touch the light in his stead for the time being. Even if they don’t grow, he at least will know he tried, and there is always next year. By then, he may have the capability of asking Sakura if she would help him; she’s clearly a capable gardener, and there should be less sediment, if he puts in the work.

By the time he leaves for his apartment, a thin layer has loosened.

#naruto #sasusaku #ssfanfiction #cherry writes #like gold #fanfiction #i said chapter 7 by the end of august and we cut it kind of close but we made it B)

[gotnofucks]

Sell My Soul - 3

Pairing: soft!dark!Lee Bodecker x reader

Words: 2.4k

Warning: smut, lactation kink, possessiveness, jealousy. Pretty mild actually. 18+ ONLY

A/N: Final part to Sell my Soul. Thank you all for giving this story a chance. And like always, I love a happy ending.

MASTERLIST

Part 1     Part 2

+++++

“Here ya go Miss, just like you ordered.” The man gave you a silk pouch and you opened it with ultimate delicacy, peeking inside. A smile spread on your face. It was perfect, exactly the way you had imagined it would be.

“Thank you, sir. This is perfect!” You beamed at him. “About the payment…what time will you like for me to come to your house?”

“Anytime that suits you this Saturday, Miss” He said.

You nodded and were about to ask for one tiny detail when you felt the hair on your neck stand. Even before you saw him, you could feel his presence. His body was like a magnet and the pull he had on you was almost unreal.

“Its Missus”

Your husband seemed to have materialized out of thin air, his voice as imposing as his personality. Lee’s hand wound around your pregnant belly and you shot him a pleading look that he promptly ignored. Instead, he glared at the stranger you were talking you, his touch around you possessive and tight.

“She’s my wife. You look at this round belly, she’s pregnant with my child. If you think I’ll allow you to sniff around her knickers in my own backyard –”

“Sir, you misunderstand!” The man said and looked at you with disbelief. He had come here to make you a simple delivery, not get on the wrong side of the town’s sheriff.

“Do I now?” Lee made to approach the man and you quickly held him back by pulling on his arm. Lee was positively seething, and you knew if he had his gun on him it would be pointing at the poor guy.

“Honey, lets go inside and talk.” You knew how your husband could get when you spoke to other men. Despite having claimed you in every way possible, despite the proof of his ownership growing inside your womb, he still felt threatened by any and every man. Your pregnancy had only made him overprotective and it was a wonder you had been able to do what you just did.

“I think I’d rather stay here!” Lee shouted and you quickly planted yourself in front of him, both hands resting on his chest in an effort to calm him.

“Mr. Jeffords, if you’d kindly leave.” You said without turning to look at the man behind you. Your eyes were intently fixed on your husband knowing how volatile he could get. You heard the man behind you shuffling away as fast as he could, probably running away to the closest pub to tell the patrons how the Sheriff’s wife was treated. Not that it bothered you anymore what anyone in this town thought.

“Who the fuck was he?” Lee asked, his drawl more pronounced in his anger.

“Can we go inside? I would rather sit and talk.” You said. Lee frowned, both in annoyance and concern as he took your hand and led you back inside your house. Ever since your pregnancy, he had become more…mellow. Softer somehow.

You sat on couch and you watched in wry amusement as Lee made sure your legs rested on a cushion despite his apparent anger. He had changed his behavior towards you in the past few months but there were times when he lost control. You weren’t scared of him anymore, but you didn’t push his boundaries a lot. Having a loving and caring husband was more than you had expected out of your marriage and that was more than what other women could say.

“I leave you alone for some time and you’re off skipping with a strange man in the garden. What do you have to say for yourself, wife?”

“I want to say that you are being absolutely ridiculous.”

Lee put his hands on either side of you behind the couch, effectively caging you in. His blue eyes boiled in a raging storm, reminding you again in their own way who was in charge here.

“You seem to have forgotten who wears the pants in this relationship darlin’” He whispered, dipping his head, and kissing you slowly. His tongue slipped past your lips and claimed your mouth, and you fisted his shirt. He broke away and you leaned forward to follow, not ready to let him go just yet. Lee smirked and pulled back, knowing what he was doing.

“You don’t like me wearing pants anyway. You want easy access” You huffed, and Lee traced your jawline with a finger and you almost bite that appendage before he pulls it back chuckling.

“You’re the only woman in the world who makes me feel this way. I’m fucking pissed yet all I wanna do is slide home inside you and fill you again and again.”

Heat pools between your legs and you unconsciously squeeze them closed. Damn pregnancy hormones. Your libido almost surpassed your husband’s, but it seemed seeing you waddle around with his kid made him even more of a horny bastard than before and your sexual appetites were well taken care of.

“Who was he Y/n? Don’t make me ask again.” Lee said sitting next to you. Icy tinge of anger coated his tone and you looked him dead in the eyes, your expression completely unguarded.

“He was a jeweler. I – I ordered something.” You said, your eyes downcast.

One of Lee’s hands pushed your cardigan away and started playing with the strap of your dress. You leaned into the warmth of his body, your nose at his throat.

“What was that about you going to his house?” Lee asked, voice still hard but his hands were gentle as always.

“For the payment. I didn’t want to borrow too much money from you and so I thought I could pay him my way”

Your head was pulled back by the back of your neck, his face right in yours and breath washing over your parted lips.

“Your own way? And what’s that? Laying down on your back and opening those legs?”

Remorse filled his eyes the moment those words left his mouth as tears filled yours. There it was- the cruel person you had initially married making his sporadic appearance. You struggled in his hold, wanting to get away but he held your wrist, trapping your body in his arms.

“Let me go you bastard!” You screamed.

Lee shushed you, pulling you in his lap and cradling your wiggling body softly. You hit his shoulders and threatened to poison his tea if he didn’t unhand you, but he held fast, one hand around your waist and the other pressing your head into his chest. You didn’t realize when you had stopped flailing your hands and bunched them in his shirt. You sobbed and his hand caressed you, apologies whispered right in your ear with guilt and love.

You sniffled and wiped your dripping nose on him for good measure. You hated this part of your relationship as much as you loved it. One comment from him would make you fly off the handle and you’ll shout and rage but only find solace in his arms. Similarly, he will get mad about the littlest of things and breath fire but late at night he’ll crawl under the covers with you, his hands worshiping your body while he muttered sweet nothings mixed with apologies. You both were tied by an elastic band that no matter how farther apart you go, you snap back and come home to each other.

“I’m sorry my love” His lips moved all over your face, pressing kisses on your cheeks and chin and neck. “I am sorry”. You lay in his arms and held him, consoling him and yourself at the same time.  

“I was going to babysit his children and bake him a cake for his wife’s birthday” You whispered and felt his arms tighten around yours. He sighs and rocks you, lips never ceasing their journey on your skin.

“You should try leading with explanations” He says, and you give a muffled laugh causing him to vibrate in mirth too. You look at him from under your lashes and pull him down for a sweet sweet kiss, letting your tongue brush the back of his teeth and relishing in his shiver. He pulled back long enough to lay you on your back before carefully hovering over you, the straps of your dress being pulled away.

“When will you start producing milk?” Lee asked, his tongue making circles around your engorged nipple. He had been very pleased with the effect of pregnancy on your breasts and loved to nestle his face between them.

“Few more week I think” you said between moans, tugging at his hair and pushing more of your flesh in his mouth.

“I want to drink from it. I know our baby will need it, but you’re gonna be a good wife and save some for me, yes?”

His words made you hotter than before, slick coating your thighs and ruining your panties. His hands teased the offending garment down, sliding smoothly along your damp skin and finding the treasure you hid between your legs.

“I’m yours my love. Every part of me belongs to you. Whatever you want.” You sigh in pleasure and become putty in his hands. It was so easy to let go with him, forget yourself in the feel and smell of him.

You felt him removing his trousers and then he’s inside you, sinfully filling you to the brim. Your breath hitches as his hips snap against yours, gentle in their ministrations. You bucked against him, asking for more and yet he went slow.

“Lee, I need more. Harder!” You beg and your husband groans in the crook of your neck. His hand teases your bud, one hand holding his weight so as not to crush you.

“Must not hurt the little one” Lee said, and you whined in displeasure. You tried to push against him, get him deeper but he resisted with a hand at your hip. Tears of frustration leaked down your eyes and he licked them away, taking the taste of salt in a messy kiss.

“Please, need it so bad” you plead. “We’ll be careful”

He relented, still not going rough but a little firmer and faster. Your voice increases in cadence, high pitched garbled words escaping you as you lose your mind. Your nails are digging in Lee’s shoulder, leaving marks he proudly wears as battle scars.  Sweat travels from his hairline and falls on your body, the couch shaking from your rocking motion. You’re both making salacious sounds that echo around your house, uncaring if they travel outside. Nothing compares to the feeling of him rubbing against your soft, fluttering walls. You’re urging him on, goading him into letting go. His mouth is on yours, teeth clashing together and hands clenching painfully. His pelvic brushes against your bud and you’re falling, howling your pleasure and feel Lee twitching inside you, his seed mixing with your creamy essence.

You pant and lay together in a heap, his arms protectively wrapped around you. One hand gently rubs your slightly protruding belly, the most tender expression on his face.

“What did you order from the jeweler?” Lee asked and to his surprise you blushed and buried your head in his shoulder.

“It’s embarrassing.” You mutter and he titled your head to his.

“My love, I’ve tasted your nectar from the source and had you on your knees for me enough times for you to abandon all shame. I’m surprised you can still blush after all the filthy things we do to each other.” The bastard was smirking, and you pouted.

You reached out with your hand and got the silk pouch from the table, pulling out from within a silver armlet with an aquamarine stone in between. The stone was the exact shade of Lee’s eyes and you held it out for him to take. He did so, brows furrowed in confusion.

“This is for me?” He asked incredulous and you nodded. “Why?”

Your face flushed again but you met his eyes.

“It’s a talisman” You said and saw him roll his eyes.

“Y/n, you know I don’t believe in this shit.” He said, trying to give the armlet back to you. You pushed his hand back and looked at him imploringly.

“I believe in them Lee! You remember that old lady last month whose son you arrested? She – She cursed you. Said you’ll die a horrible death. I can’t get those words out of my head. I won’t lose you.” Lee pursed his lips at you, still not convinced.

“Lee, we’re in the family way. You’ll have a son or daughter in a couple months. I can’t sleep at night with worry that something will happen to you. I – I can’t let anything happen to you. This stone…it’s a symbol of health and hope. It will keep you safe.”

You had never been as afraid of anything in your life as the curse of that woman. You were never one to put too much faith in religion and superstitions, but when it came to your family you worried about everything. The very feel of this town is ominous. If wearing a piece of jewelry can protect your husband than you’ll make sure he wears it even if you have to use every last trick of seduction to convince him.

Lee looked at your determined face, jaw set stubbornly, and he smiled. His hand cupped your face and pulled you into a breathless kiss before resting his forehead on yours.

“My pretty girl, my love, my wife” He breathed against you mouth. “Don’t you know I have no need of anything else in this world but you? You are my strength Y/n. You keep me sane and woe betide anyone who tries to separate us.”

You clutched his collar and pulled him flush against you, your eyes blazing, and he looked at you in wonder. “You listen to me Lee Bodecker, you will wear this armlet whether you want to or not. No amount of sweet promises will get you out of it.”

Lee laughed since he had rarely seen you this fierce. His blue eyes beheld you in your glory, still naked in his arms and watery eyes that shone brighter than the sun. In that moment he knew he had never seen a more beautiful woman and he nodded.

“Whatever you say goes my love. I belong to you.”

You sealed the deal with a kiss, promising him a reward for agreeing later tonight.

+++++

TAGLIST IS OPEN

More Lee Stories: Sweet Tooth

Drabbles for Lee : Drabbles Masterlist

#dark!lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker #dark!lee bodecker #the devil all the time #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan

[cybertronian-cupid]

ooooo now im curious about tfp megan mass displacing himself to action figure size and his non-binary s/o fucking him *wink wonk*

*winks back and cackles* Some play time is in order it seems!

I decided to try writing something different this time around: s/o has a cock in this one, however, there is fingerfucking and spike sucking way before the dicking happens.💥~Gregoria🏩

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They adjust their grip, pinning his arms firmly against his chassis and drag their tongue across his heated metal, causing Megatron to struggle against their grip.

“Stop playing,”

They smile and press a quick kiss to his face, narrowly missing their lip being bit into a bloody mess. They make a point of dipping their fingers in the small container of flavoured lube and spread it across the insides of his thigh plating with agonizingly slow strokes.

“You wanted to be this small didn’t you? What else am I supposed to do other than play?”

They press their thumb firmly between his legs, nudging the decorative plating on his pelvis.

“I don’t plan on breaking you.”

His hips jerk up impatiently, and their other thumb pushes his lower body firmy back against their palm.

“Stay down, I won’t do this again if you plan on cutting my face.”

They nibble on the thin metal, knowing their teeth have a bigger chance of breaking than his plating suffering any real damage. He seems to like the attention, the sound of his spike transforming from its housing bumping against the tip of their nose.

They can’t help but let out a coo when they move back to get a better look. His spike looks adorable with how small it is now, the biolights pulsing erratically, prefluid gathering at the tip. They coat it with some more lube, chuckling at his impatient grunt.

“So needy,”

Whatever complaint that was about to come out of Megatron is interrupted by his moan when they wrap their tongue around his spike and suck, lips squeezing against the sensors, lube enhancing the almost oily, iron flavour of his lubricant.

They increase and ease the pressure on his valve cover, smiling at his attempts to keep his optics focused and his noises contained. His panel pops open after a hard prod, lubricant rolling down their palm and wrist. They push their thumb inside, and his spike twitches under their tongue. Their teeth scrape over it as they suck hard, popping off just in time to delay his overload. His optics are pinpricks focused on their mouth, needy wheezes accompanied by the pulsing of his valve against the pad of their thumb. They press a deceptively gentle kiss to the tip of the tiny thing, smile full of teeth as they move away. Their fingers tightly pinch his spike, transfluid sliding down his shaft in pink droplets. He’s so close and they’ve barely done anything.

“Work for it.”

They push his pelvis up with the base of their palm, gliding his spike through their fingers, knuckles rubbing at the bulging protrusions between his seams. He begins thrusting his hips in a shaky pace, wide optics staring at them. Their gaze is fixed on his spike, bobbing between their fingers and finally picking up the pace when their tongue wets their lips. Their erection presses against the fabric of their boxers, already imagining how Megatron’s digits will feel when he returns the favour.

His noises turn frustrated, and they take his spike in their mouth, sucking on the tip until his thick transfluid is shooting to the back of their throat. The lubricant flowing from his valve managed to reach the crook of their elbow, and their cock twitches with need.

“You always make such a mess,” they tsk fondly, rubbing the pad of their thumb across his valve. His engines give a whine, his fans kicking up a notch. He always gets louder when he knows it’ll get him a good valve fuck.

A good, hard, proper fuck. There’s a wet patch that seems to agree with the idea.

They push the tip of their thumb inside,and his legs press firmly into the flesh of their wrist.

He attempts to take more of it in, looking at them with pleading optics. They withdraw their hand and his optics somehow open wider, a pitiful sound raising deep from within his chassis.

“Oh hush, I have a surprise in mind for you,” they press their index and middle finger firmly to the mesh.

His fans whir louder in anticipation of the stretch, vents wide open and blowing hot air. The fast flickering of his optics and the amount of drool dripping from his mouth, has them slamming their fingers into his valve up to the second knuckle. They feel the vibrations of his engines through the tightness clenching around them and start slowly easing out, having to really pull with how reluctant he is to be empty again. Their cock throbs in warning and they squirm in their seat.

They pull their fingers out almost all the way and push them right back in, pressing their thumb hard against his node each time their fingers slam back. The wider they work him and the harder they thrust draws higher and higher whines from his vocalizer before it shuts off for good.

His plating is so hot it’s nearly burning them and their fingers hook at his pauldrons, pressing him down with each of their thrusts when they add a third finger. They lick their way up from his once again hardening spike, all the way up to his neck plating.

Feeling his mesh flutter, calipers straining with their movements, they force their fingers deeper, and can see his outer plating shift when their knuckles.

He’s going to look so fucking good stretched around them.

The groans of what they can only assume at this point is pleasure bordering on discomfort let’s them know that his valve is finally spread to its full capacity, their fingers scissoring him with no issue.

They manage to wrench them free and flip him over, changing their grip. They feel his legs attempt to push his body up and they slam him back down, squeezing tightly, reaching into their boxers for their erection, slicking their precum and Megatron’s transfluid over their shaft in frantic strokes.

“You earned my dick, so stop squirming and let me fuck you already!”

That draws a surprised sputter of engines and even heavier gushing of lubricant as Megatron tries to spread even wider in his eagerness. They line themself with his valve, the pulsing mesh spread wide enough that they should be able to fuck him.

Not wasting much time they shove the head of their dick inside and make it halfway inside before screaming out a curse and falling to their knees. It’s like a damn vice, and they feel just a smidge of regret at having half of their dick crushed. A much bigger part however is eager to get all of it inside of the hot, wet mess of his valve.

The way his circuitry burns and fuel lines pulse at the strain of something this big making its way inside of his frame, they are sure that there won’t be a fleshlight on the market to compare.

The plating in the middle of his frame warps outward with their effort to force more of their dick inside. They can hear something garbled and strained passing from Megatron’s vocalizer and they stop, only to have their balls squeezed by Megatron’s pedes when he finds a way to slam himself down on their dick fully, his stomach plating now fully warped outwards. They have to steady themself on the floor, trying to get some air in their lungs.

“Motherfucker,” they hiss through clenched teeth “you’re insane.”

His pedes nudge their balls again, pressing into the flesh just enough to register as pleasurable. They let him adjust for a moment, and then lifting him off and slamming him back down, grunting through clenched teeth when they feel his insides shake with an overload. They pick up the pace and revel in the sloppy sounds, the fleeting feeling of his valve trying to clamp down again and failing, the transfluid of each next overload dripping down on their cock and then on the floor when they lean forward and start thrusting into him with their hips.

They grunt half formed words and groan when they finally cum, feeling it seep through the seams of his armor and his valve, registering the mess they’ll have to clean up in some far away part of their mind.

Their grip turns slack while they thrust through their orgasm, followed by slowly easing Megatron’s still spasming valve off themself. The amount of cum that spills out of it makes their cock throb again when they tuck it inside their boxers.

“You are the neediest toy I've ever owned, do you know that?”

They flip him over and let out a bark of a surprised laugh..

“How can you be hard after this?” and they flick at his once again erect spike, fingers pumping once, twice and sure enough another overload tears out of him. The way he drools, his plating shifting even looser and his purple mesh almost glowing, makes the way their hands are starting to hurt from the heat of his frame at least a little more bearable. They move him to their other hand, standing up from the floor on unsteady feet and head to their bathroom.

Yeah, they are absolutely doing this again. Maybe even today, if his vocalizer comes back online and they can hear him beg for their cock.

#The dick envy was strong with this one~G🏩 #valveplug #tfp valveplug #tfp megatron x s/o #tfp megatron x reader #tfp megatron x nb!s/o #tfp megatron