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whatsnewalycat · 11 months

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I Know

(Second Part to Bunny)

Summary: It didn't take you long to figure out that your new co-worker, Javier Peña, is a former client from your days working a phone sex line. But does he know who you are?

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Word Count: 5.3k+

Content / Warnings: professor javi, former phone sex operator reader, professor reader, co-workers, seduction, yearning, dirty talk, smut, smoking, swearing, drinking

Notes: Hi, pals. LOOK I TOLD YOU I WOULD DO A SECOND PART TO THIS!!! True to my word, baby. Hope you like it.

There’s such camaraderie in a cigarette.

At the social hour after New Faculty Orientation, smokers gather on the sidewalk outside the University of Texas San Antonio’s John Peace Library. Liquor-fueled mouths babble on, letting off thick plumes of exhaust into the cloudless sky. Blue ribbons of smoke dance off the ashy orange tips of cigarettes between puffs.

All these academics broken off from the crowded meeting hall into bite-sized chunks, generally determined by field of study, familiarizing themselves with the colleagues they’ll come to rely on. Within this horde, you ask yourself: Who will have a lighter when I can’t find mine? Who will commiserate with me over a smoke when I have my first work-related breakdown? Facilitate those necessary micro-therapy sessions that get me through the hardest days?

Dr. Natalie King, whose poison of choice is menthol flavored, chatters on about her excitement to be working at her alma mater—a proud Roadrunner, through and through, eventually asking, “Where did you work before this?”

“This is my first job out of my doctoral program.”

It’s mostly the truth. You take a drag off your cigarette, then blow a chimney stack out the corner of your mouth.

“Oh, straight into academia, huh?” she smirks, and when you grin, she comments, “Brave girl. Well, if you ever have any questions about the clinical side of things, feel free to reach out to me. Lord knows us gals have to stick together in such a male-driven field.”

A flash of light catches your eye, the glare of sun off the library door opening. An attractive, dark-haired, mustachioed man steps out into the bright, buzzing Texas sun. He slides on a pair of yellow-tinted aviators and pats his shirt pockets, fishing out a little white and red box. He plucks a cigarette from the pack and meanders up to your two-person sample study in women’s psychology, asking Natalie, “Got a light?”

She nods and starts digging through the purse hanging off her shoulder while the man shifts his weight to one leg and pushes the cigarette between his plush lips. He takes a cursory glance around at the other smokers as Natalie curses under her breath.

“I got it,” you pull a lighter from the pocket of your slacks and hand it to him.

“Thanks,” he murmurs around the filter and lights the tip, inhaling until it’s a glowing ember, then gives it back to you.

“Dr. Natalie King,” your companion introduces herself, sticking her hand out to him.

He gives it a firm shake and says, “Javier Peña,” then turns to you and holds out his hand.

You take it and tell him your name through an exhale of thick smoke, meeting his dark eyes through the sunglasses. He holds your gaze for a moment, then steps back and brings the hand to his hip, jerking his head towards the library, “What’re you two in for?”

Natalie answers that you’re both Doctors of Psychology, then goes on to explain which classes she’ll be teaching when the 2002 Fall Semester begins next week.

While she does this, you tilt your head at him, trailing your eyes along the sharp edges of him. The steep slope of his nose, the squared off corners of his jaw, the defined muscles of his neck. He holds himself like there’s a restless energy burning beneath his skin, shifting his weight from leg to leg, eyes working over his surroundings. On guard.

There’s something about him that piques your interest. His voice, warm and deep and smooth, unearths nostalgia from deep within your gut. You mentally sift through acquaintances, friends of friends you might have met at a party, people from your hometown, et cetera, trying to figure out how you know him. It’s strange because you think you would remember meeting someone so handsome.

Your eyes flick to his left hand. No wedding ring. A shiny silver wristwatch catches your attention, though, when it jiggles a little. You glance up, find his eyes locked to yours, and don’t look away until Natalie asks him what he’s teaching.

He pinches the cigarette between his lips and takes a long drag, exhaling words warped by smoke, “Criminal Justice.”

“I see,” Natalie drops her spent torch on the ground and grinds it into the sidewalk with the toe of her brown loafer, then crosses her arms, “What were you doing before this?”

“Not much the past few years,” he cocks an eyebrow and shrugs, “Helping my dad out on his ranch down in Laredo, but I was DEA before that.”

“Oh wow, ok.”

You frown, “What did you say your name was again?”

He flicks his gaze to yours and answers, “Javier Peña.”

Recognition punches you in the gut. Your face gets all hot and you drop your eyes to the sidewalk, “Oh, ok. Well. Great to meet you, Javi.”

You stomp your cigarette out, turning to Natalie with a sigh, “Should we go back inside?”

“Sure.”

Don’t look don’t look don’t look—fuck.

Your eyes betray you. They snap to his. Those dark eyes, studying you with precision, narrowing just enough to twist your stomach in a knot.

Natalie starts towards the library doors, and you trail behind her, ignoring the burn of his stare following you inside.

—

Throughout the next couple weeks, when your paths cross, his gaze lingers.

Sometimes you don’t even notice he’s there until your brain’s ancient hardwiring sends out a primal pulse of warning, making your nerves to crackle. During workshops and interdepartmental meetings. While walking the halls. In the faculty parking lot. And, of course, on your smoke breaks.

You wonder what information he obtains in those small moments before your heart thuds and face flushes, urging you to put as much space between yourself and his meticulous gaze as possible.

Each instance summons the ghost of his voice as you walk away, greeting you with a cool, “How’s Bunny doing tonight?”

Asking you, “Can you do something for me, sweetheart?”

Asking, “Are you touching yourself? Let me hear it.”

It forces you to revisit the evolution of your intimacy, how the two of you gradually went from “It’s nice hearing your voice,” to, “I thought about you all week,” to, “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too. Don’t suppose you make house calls, do you, Bunny?”

These memories start to bleed into your thoughts with alarming frequency.

You think about him when you brush your teeth in the morning. When you go to sleep at night. Every free moment in between. When you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror, you wonder, “Does he think I’m attractive?” Then scold yourself for giving a shit.

“It doesn’t matter,” you lie to yourself, “He wasn’t talking to me, he was talking to Bunny.”

—

Only a few students and staff roam the campus at this time of day, when overnight dew still clings to the blades of grass hidden from the sun. This particular spot, a tucked-away path between the Biosciences Building and a parking garage, usually only has one visitor each morning: you.

Every once in a while, the hum of a car engine sounds from behind the big oak tree you’re propped up against, followed by the slam of a car door, then the echoey shuffle of shoes against concrete as whoever makes their way to wherever.

Mostly, though, it’s peaceful.

You raise the 22-ounce styrofoam cup of watered-down gas station coffee to your mouth and pause, gauging the heat of the steam that brushes your lips. Too hot. Lowering the cup to your lap, you spot a robin a few yards away. It hops across some damp grass, tilting its head this way and that; its keen, beady eyes scan for movement below the earth’s surface.

A deep breath expands your lungs and your eyes drift closed. You concentrate on the cool ground beneath your legs. The oak tree holding your body upright. Your head rolls back against it, like you’re trying to soak up some of its fortitude for the day ahead of you.

The dry scuff of footsteps on the cement sidewalk tugs at the edge of this meditation. They come to a stop nearby, then you hear a familiar timbre ask, “Mind if I join you?”

Your eyes snap open, spine straightening as you squint towards the source: Javier Peña.

Heat trickles through your body as you survey him. The navy blue fabric of his fitted suit stretches across his broad shoulders in a way that’s really not fair. Sunlight douses him in brightness, and his dark eyes seem to glow in the warmth. He shifts his weight to one leg and plants a hand on his hip, glancing around before he pulls a pack of cigarettes from his pocket and plugs one into his mouth, then holds the pack out to you. An offering.

Against your better judgment, you nod in approval.

A little smirk makes the dangling cigarette bob between his lips. He saunters over to where you’re seated, visibly relieved when the shade of the oak tree falls over his body. With a quiet grunt, he sits down next to you, unbuttoning his suit jacket, resting his back against the sturdy tree.

Again, he holds the red and white pack of cigarettes out to you. You take one, murmuring, “Thanks,” as you shove the filter between your lips and light it.

He does the same and takes a sharp inhale, exhaling blue smoke, “Nice spot you got here. Quiet.”

“Yeah,” you chuckle, heart thumping loud and hot behind your ears, “How are your first few weeks going?”

“Fine,” he shrugs and flicks ash from the tip of his cigarette, “Pretty different from what I’ve been doing these past few years.”

“Right, on the farm?” you inquire, purposely getting the vernacular wrong to throw him off your trail.

He doesn’t correct you, just nods, “Although, some of these kids are stubborn as cattle.”

You laugh at this, “It’s been an adjustment, huh?”

He hums in accord, and you can feel his eyes on your profile, studying you.

Your insides twitch. Skin tingles. You take a drag off your cigarette, then say, “Yeah, same here. I’m straight out of school, so it’s pretty surreal being on this side of the fence.”

“I bet,” he murmurs, “Wha’d you do for work?”

“Customer service, call center stuff.”

You’re not sure why you didn’t just make something up. Say you did manual labor or clerical work or something.

Maybe it’s because you know how earnest he is, and any potential lie would feel like poison in your throat. Maybe it’s because the space between you feels electric and sacred.

Maybe there’s a small part of you that wants him to figure it out.

“How’d you like that?” he asks as he blows a cloud of smoke away.

“Well,” you sigh, looking down at the coffee cup pinched between your legs, avoiding his gaze, “I liked it, actually. I talked to a lot of different people. It was interesting. Plus, the paycheck was nice.”

Again, he hums in acknowledgement, then chuckles, “Hopefully this gig pays better.”

“Yeah,” you snort, “A lot better. It was fun while it lasted, but this… this is my purpose, you know?”

You glance over at him now, and his eyes lock to yours. The intensity of his stare inspires tiny flutters from deep within your core. Right when you start to ask yourself, “Does he—?” Javier nods, “I know.”

These two words give you a head rush. Your mouth gapes, and his gaze flicks to the open space between your lips. It lingers there for a beat too long before he looks away and takes one last drag off his cigarette. He crushes its glowing orange cherry into the earth and murmurs, “I better get going.”

“Oh—yeah, ok,” you frown, following his form as he rises to his feet and brushes grass from the seat of his pants, “It was nice talking to you.”

Javier smirks down at you, those devastatingly warm brown eyes softening when he asks, “See you around?”

“Sure thing,” you smile.

He stares at you for a moment, shifting his weight from one leg to the other, then turns and leaves the way he came.

—

Later that night, your office phone rings.

You pick it up and pinch the receiver between your ear and shoulder, “Hello?”

“What’s up, Doc?”

A knot twists in your belly. Your eyes flick to your closed office door, then to the lecture notes scrawled on index cards all spread across your desk.

“Hi, who am I speaking to?”

Like you don’t know. Like the rich notes of his voice don’t instantly send shivers down your spine.

“Javier Peña,” he answers. In the background, there’s a clink, followed by the slosh of liquid pouring into a glass.

Nostalgia hums thick beneath your skin. Hundreds of conversations flash through your head and shimmer between your legs. You lick your lips and ask, “What can I help you with, Professor Peña?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice again like this,” he murmurs, then clarifies, “Over the phone, I mean. I missed it.”

A few things happen in quick succession within the confines of your body.

First, your heart swells. You curl the cord of your phone around your index finger and smile. He missed it. He missed you.

Then, an odd feeling dims your brightness. Like you’re naked in front of a crowded room. Exposed. You sit up straight and whip your head around the empty room.

Finally, the peacekeeper inside you tells you to calm the fuck down. This doesn’t definitively prove he knows. Maybe he’s confused you for someone else. Or maybe he’s playing a joke on you.

It’s fine.

A wet swallow sounds on the other end, then he continues, “I didn’t know you’d be so attractive in person, though… Bunny.”

Shit.

Electricity floods your veins and short-circuits your brain.

“I—I don’t know what you mean,” you let out an exasperated chuckle and push your chair out behind you. The coiled cord of your phone works as a leash as you pace the width of your desk, “Professor Peña, I’m not sure who you think I am—”

“Don’t do that, sweetheart. Don’t bullshit me,” he purrs, his voice sure and steady, “I know.”

Shock steals your tongue. Your eyes clamp shut. Chest aches. Hands tingle. You take a deep, shaky breath and try to harden your tone, “Know what, exactly?”

Javier ignores your denial, just says, “Come over.”

“Javi—” you start to protest, destroying all pretense as you stare up at the ceiling.

He doesn’t say anything. The line is silent as he waits for a better response.

Eventually, you ask, “Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why are you doing this—What do you want?” you drop your voice to a whisper, “Look, if you’re trying to blackmail me—”

“Blackmail you?” he scoffs, “Do you really think I’d do that?”

You scoff, “Well, I don’t know—”

“I promise it’s not like that, sweetheart. I’d just like to have a drink with you in private, so we can… talk.”

“Now who’s bullshitting?”

The speaker crackles with an airy chuckle, “You got me there.”

“So… what do you want with me, Javi?”

You hear the metallic flick of a lighter. A sharp inhale. His words are fuzzy with smoke when he asks, “Haven’t you wondered what it would be like?”

Heat flickers deep inside you. You imagine his hands gripping your body. His mouth hot on your skin. You lean against your desk and shrug, “It doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not an answer.”

You don’t trust yourself to say anything.

He takes a drag off his cigarette, then says, “All that talk about what we would do if we were together. How well you’d take me. What that sweet little cunt would feel like wrapped around—”

“Javi, it was a job,” you whine. It holds little conviction.

He’s quiet. The low, airy hiss of his lungs drawing smoke. Then, “Are you saying it wasn’t real?”

Heat rises to your face. You open your mouth to lie, but you breathe the truth instead, “No.”

“Then come over.”

You bite your lip, looking down at your lecture notes with indecision.

“Please.”

With an exaggerated sigh, you concede, “What’s your address?”

—

Javier’s one-bedroom apartment is small and tidy. The stark white walls are void of decoration, but the tasteful home furnishings, all wood and bronze and leather, tell you this choice is less “sad bachelor pad” than it is “I want my fucking deposit back.”

What was intended to be a dining room area has been made into a home office. A large chestnut bookcase lines one wall, displaying various textbooks and whodunit novels alongside family photos. A matching chestnut desk butts up against the adjacent wall. Stacks of papers and notebooks, most aptly described as an “organized mess,” sit atop the deep wood finish.

You lean on the kitchen counter opposite him and watch him pour room-temperature whiskey into two low tumbler glasses. Each nerve ending in your body buzzes with anticipation. You try to think of things to say, small talk to make, but it all seems flat. Disingenuous. The words all die on your tongue.

This doesn’t seem to bother him, though.

He slides a glass across the counter, then rests his elbows on the surface, eyes flicking around your face as you take a sip.

“What?” you chuckle after swallowing the burning liquid.

He shrugs, “You’re just… much more beautiful than I expected.”

“Oh yeah?” you smirk, meeting his eyes, “What were you expecting?”

He licks his lips and smiles, this big, brilliant, sly smile, “Real answer?”

Fuck, he’s handsome.

“Always,” you grin in return, batting your eyelashes at him as you lean closer onto the counter.

“I imagined you so many different ways, and none of them seemed right,” he confesses, face falling into a frown, “I expected disappointment.”

“Oh,” you wince and nod, dragging the tip of your finger along the rim of your glass, “Well… are you disappointed?”

“No,” he tells you firmly. Your eyes snap to his, and he asks, “Are you?”

“No,” you breathe, searching his face.

A hum sounds from his throat. The air between you is thick and magnetic. It clings to your skin and makes you shiver.

“Tell me something, sweetheart,” he coos, his vocal cords catching an edge, “No bullshit, alright?”

Your heart gallops. You swallow hard and nod for him to continue.

“Do you want to fuck me?”

Everything seems to tilt. Marionette strings pull your spine taut. Your tongue traces your lips before you take a swig from your drink. You can’t look at him, but feel his gaze burning your face.

The counter creaks as he pushes off it. He works his way around it, slowly, deliberately, each step amplifying across your tingling skin, until he’s inches away, hovering there. Heat radiates from his body and pulses between your legs.

Javier purrs your name.

You look over at him and meet those warm, dark eyes, all hooded with want. They drop to your mouth and seem to study your lips. It’s like something tightens around your lungs and squeezes every ounce of air from them.

“I, um…”

It comes out barely a whisper.

His throat rumbles in response. He brushes his knuckles against your cheek, making you shiver, and says, “Look at you, so shy all of a sudden.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

He nods in acknowledgment, but he scoots closer. Drags the pad of his thumb along your bottom lip. A shudder racks your body and you whimper.

“I didn’t ask you if it’s a good idea, I asked if you want to fuck me,” he murmurs, hot gaze flicking between your eyes and mouth. He slides his hand against your abdomen. It stays there as he steps behind you, pulling you into the heat of his chest, “You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t, though, would you?”

“Javi—”

His lips press a damp spot into your shoulder, the warm tips of his fingers slipping under the fabric of your shirt, drawing soft circles on your bare skin, and he hums, “Hmm?”

You gasp as his touch ripples deeper, jolting your insides, making your eyelids flutter, “We really shouldn’t.”

But you reach back and place your palm on the nape of his neck, gently coaxing him to continue. He leaves a trail of slow, heated kisses to your thudding pulse. The wet velvet of his tongue rolls against you.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, threading his hair through your fingers, pulling him closer.

A pleased rumble sounds from deep inside him. His lips form a seal, sucking the tender skin of your neck. You moan at the wave of pleasure that gushes down your spine.

The hand at your navel slides over the zipper of your pants, following the curve between your legs, applying firm, flush pressure. He holds it there while dragging his tongue up your neck, then catches your earlobe in his teeth and tugs.

“Fuck,” you gasp, and he releases.

“Come on, sweetheart, say it.”

You let your head fall back on his shoulder and roll your hips against his hand. He draws it away and mutters in your ear, “All that dirty talk over the phone, now you can’t use your words?”

“Fuck me,” you whisper, pushing back into the bulge in his jeans, grinding into him.

He sucks in air through his teeth and grazes your cheek with his nose, “What’s that?”

You chuckle and drag a finger along his jawline, “You heard me.”

“Maybe I wanna hear it again.”

“Oh yeah?” you twist around to face him, hooking your hands at the back of his neck.

He drinks you in with this lustful gaze that settles on your lips and nods, then takes a step closer, backing you against the counter, pressing his body into yours.

“Is that what you want?” you drop your voice to a sultry whisper and tilt your head, “You want me to tell you how wet my pussy is for you? How it’s begging to be filled by you?”

A groan escapes his chest and you grin.

“That’s it, isn’t it, baby?”

“It is.”

Your teeth catch your bottom lip for a moment and you shrug, “Do you wanna feel how bad I want you?”

He nods.

“Go ahead, baby.”

Javi searches your face as a hand slips under the waistband of your pants, then under your panties. A thick finger slides between your lips, down the gooey middle of you, and he rasps, “Holy fuck.”

You gasp at the gentle way his touch explores you, moving up and down your folds, spreading your heat.

“That feels good,” you breathe, looking up through your lashes to meet his eyes.

He rubs your clit in soft, concentric motions, holding your gaze, his mouth gaping open when you whimper and nod in approval. Each flick of his wrist accumulates hot and sticky and alive at your core, prodding your pulse, warming your skin. Quiet gasps fall from your lips. Your eyelids flutter and you rake your fingers through his hair.

“Do you like that?” he asks, all rough edges, “Like the way I touch you, baby?”

“Yes,” you whine, “I love the way you play with my pussy, Javi, feels so fucking goood, oh my god—”

His lips crush into yours. You clamber closer, kissing him back, heated and needy, both of you making all these throaty, desperate noises as your mouths meet again and again, licking, tugging, kissing. His touch between your legs quickens, your entire body starts to sweat and tremble as pleasure twists inside you.

You’re overcome with this aching need for more.

“Javi—please,” you beg between kisses, hooking a finger under his belt, “I want you.”

His throat rumbles. He captures your lips in another kiss before grabbing your hand and leading you to his bedroom.

When he flips on the light switch, it reveals a few cluttered surfaces and a four-post bed. You pull your shirt off over your head and shuffle out of your pants as you absorb everything. The suit jackets hanging on the corners of his dresser’s vanity mirror. A stack of mystery novels on his nightstand. The white comforter, rumpled like he tried to make his bed but he’s not very good at it.

So much proof that this person who only existed as a voice in your life for so long is flesh and blood.

It’s surreal.

“Did you ever think something like this would happen?”

You turn to see Javier unbuttoning his shirt, gaze drifting along your body. His pants lay in a pile beside him. An amused smile spreads across your face when you notice his cock standing at attention. He shucks the shirt off his shoulders as you step towards him and slide your palms up his smooth chest.

“What, that I’d fuck a client?”

Javier nods. His hands land on your waist and he guides you back towards his bed, planting a few languid kisses on your jawline, mustache tickling your skin.

“No,” you chuckle, “I had a very strict no meeting policy… as you know.”

The backs of your legs butt up against the bed. You land on the bed with a soft bounce and crawl backwards to allow him space to follow. He does, running his hands along the curves of your body, leaving a trail of wet kisses down your neck, your collarbone, your sternum.

As you tell him, “You were my favorite, though,” he reaches around your back, unhooks your bra, and tosses it aside.

“Was I?”

His heated palms slide up your ribcage, over the slope of your breasts, and he squeezes them. You gasp, eyebrows threading together, and nod. He drags his tongue across your nipple, then closes his lips around it and sucks. A burst of pleasure soaks your insides, sharpening when his teeth catch the bud and grind down.

“Ffffuck,” you whine, meeting his eyes as he moves to the other nipple, licking, sucking, biting. Every motion drips hot down the middle of you.

“Do you like playing with my tits?” you coo while combing your fingers through his hair, making it stick up every which way, “You do, don’t you, baby?”

His eyelids flutter and he moans, nodding, then opens his mouth wider and takes more, hollowing out his cheeks as he sucks.

Your head falls back with a moan, “So fucking good, yes—”

Javi comes off you with a pop and rolls your nipples between his fingers, “So hot.”

You watch him work his way up your body, leaving kisses on your sternum, your collar bone, your cheek, your lips. Your hands slip around his shoulders and you arch your back into him, wrapping your legs around him, soaking up the warmth of his skin, your lips and tongues meeting again and again, exchanging soft moans, hips grinding his cock between your bodies.

“I need you,” he says, eyes all wild and black, “Fuck, I need you—”

“Take me.”

He steals another kiss from your lips before sitting up to pull off your underwear. While tossing them aside, he drinks you in, sliding one heated palm up and down the curves of your body, purring, “Look at you. Fucking perfect.”

You whimper at his praise, at his reverent touch making your nerve endings buzz. He strokes your clit with his thumb, mouth hanging open as your whole body shivers and writhes in reaction.

“So sensitive, mi conejita,” he murmurs, the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, “Do you want it?”

“Yes,” you nod, arching your hips, “I need it—I need to feel you inside me, Javi, please.”

A noise surfaces from deep in his chest, then he breathes, “Fuck, say it again.”

You thread your eyebrows together and bat your lashes at him, shifting your voice into the lusty, airy tone you know gets him going, “I need to feel you inside me, Javi. Need your cock to fill me, make me whole—”

“Fuck,” he groans, hips rocking forward just enough to breach you. A jolt of pleasure shoots up your spine and you moan.

“Do you want more, baby?”

You lick your lips and nod frantically as he works your clit faster, the tip of him teasing you. Pressure builds in your chest and pulls your muscles taut. You roll your hips and try to get more of him, more movement, following the heat pounding through your veins.

“Need more of my cock, baby, that’s what you need?”

“I need more of your cock,” you breathe, eyelids fluttering at the growing fire deep in your belly, “Please please please, Javi, plea—”

“You’re gonna come for me just like this, aren’t you?” his voice only amplifies the feeling, making your heart race, and then he rasps, “Fuck, baby, do it, let me feel you, let it go.”

You do.

It overtakes you, flooding you with pleasure, your whole body shaking from the force while Javi strums your clit fast and hard, cooing, “That’s it, mi conejita, that’s it, come for me baby. Doesn’t that feel good?”

You whimper and nod, unable to form words until your orgasm peters out and leaves you panting, staring up at him. He meets your gaze. His cock pulses inside you.

Seeing him like this, his hair all disheveled, skin dewy with sweat, dark eyes fiery and enamored…

“Come here,” you sit up on your elbow and bring a hand to his chin, coaxing him closer. He follows you down to the bed and kisses you with force, a groan vibrating on your tongue as you drag it against his.

He starts to roll his hips, filling you more and more with each thrust, the thick length of him electrifying your walls.

His lips don’t leave yours. Neither of you pull back to murmur filth to the other. The only noise in the room comes from your humid bodies pressing together, from whines and moans traded through panting breaths as you renew the kiss again and again.

You push back against his thrusts, digging your fingers into the broad expanse of his shoulders, losing yourself in the feel of him stretching you, the heat of his skin clinging to you, his mouth against yours.

Pleasure builds, hot and demanding, between your bodies. He fucks you faster, pumping into you at a frenzied pace that makes you gasp and nod, pulling you higher and higher. His hand grips your jaw and he stares down at you, searching your face, his puffy lips forming an ‘o’ as he watches your face contort.

Neither of you seem in control of the noises escaping you. They’re frantic and breathy and sharp.

At once, it’s like you’re sucked up into a vacuum. All the air evacuates your body and your muscles clench. The noises stop when you reach the crest of the wave, and when ecstasy crashes down, you let out a choked sob, convulsing around him. He groans, low and guttural, hips stuttering as he captures your lips in his and spills inside you.

A few languid kisses pass back and forth before he rolls off you. You follow the persuasion of his arm curling around your shoulders and tuck yourself into his side. He holds you here like this for a while, staring up at his ceiling while your breathing returns to normal, and eventually he asks, “Why was I your favorite?”

You shrug and watch your fingertips draw swirls into his chest, “You wanted me to be me, not your idea of me.”

He hums, grazing his thumb against your shoulder, then says, “I think that’s true for both of us.”

“Yeah?” you shift to meet his eyes.

He nods, dropping his gaze to your mouth. You draw closer to kiss him, slow and soft, and when your lips part, he murmurs, “Mi conejita.”

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becausegoodheroesdeservekidneys · 9 months

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I'm a student about to start my second year, and me and all my friends are really nervous. It feels like first year was really rough for everyone all over the place and we're all really hoping for a better second year this year! Have lecturers been noticing that too? Do you think it's because of COVID?

Oh my god yes. Jesus yes. It's absolutely the covid effect, and we're expecting to see the disruption for the next five or so years, tbh - the current 18-21 year old undergrads went through the most important years of high school during a lockdown. That not only interrupted academic development (home schooling during a time of stress, massive disruption to exams and exam-taking skills, etc), it also enormously hit emotional development (mid to late teens have the highest socialising needs of the human lifespan, and no one could meet and interact with each other.) And that latter point is having a much bigger effect than the former.

Current undergrads haven't been able to develop the same resilience, the same approach to andragogic education, the same interpersonal skills for dealing with lecturers/fellow students. University is not like school; in school teachers are giving you the knowledge, and gradually encouraging you to try and use it to formulate your own opinions. In university, we're supposed to give you the framework to then go out and do you own research. The bulk of your education comes from you, not us; we're more like facilitators.

But, we're noticing that there's a far bigger skew now towards needing to get the answer right. Anxiety is higher, and so the fear of being wrong is much more crippling for these students, and that in turn means they're less willing/able to take charge of their own education and are more passive with it, wanting to just be fed the right answers so they can rote learn them and get the Good mark. And the disconnect between that and the reality of what lecturers are expecting is pretty big, it turns out, and is causing even more anxiety and stress. Record numbers of my students have started asking me to give their assignment drafts a quick look over, just to see if they're on the right track. Which, you know, I'm more than happy to do; but I do think it's a notable pattern change from three or four years ago.

If you're worrying on a personal level though, Anon, I have some Handy Tips if they're any use!

Remember: the idea of uni is that you are doing your own research and learning on the topics your lecturers describe. They're giving you the basics, but they're expecting you to look up examples, case studies, other research papers, etc. They want to see analysis. That's what gets you the good marks. If you simply describe the information you got in lectures and don't add anything, you'll struggle to rise out of a basic pass.

What's the fundamental point of your particular course? It's important to know this, because it'll tell you how to focus your assessments and exam answers. Just within the environmental sector, you could have Environmental Science (focus: academic exploration and research), Environmental Conservation (focus: applying the academic research to actual management and solutions), Environmental Impacts (focus: philosophy and ethics), etc. In all three, you might be given a paper about the latest IPCC report, but in the first you would focus on exploring all the research papers that formed the conclusion on climate change, in the second you'd focus on case studies around the world and the applicability/feasibility of the shared economic pathways that are going to fix the problem, and in the third you'd focus on the human impacts of both the problem and the proposed solutions. You may of course include elements of all of those, but your main focus should be chosen appropriately.

Keep your notes with copies of the lecture slides in nice ordered folders. Keep a bulleted list of the topics covered in each. This makes it far easier to go and double check the right info when you're stressed out

On that note, the best note-taking system is to add notes/comments to the lecture slides where you record clarifications and things the lecturer said (INCLUDING CASE STUDIES). Don't bother duplicating effort by writing what's on the slide.

I truly do know this is easier said than done, but don't leave your assignments until the last minute. Are you struggling with motivation? You need a study group. You need to body double.

And finally, the biggest: CONTACT STUDENT SUPPORT IF YOU ARE STRUGGLING. Every time I go to an exam board and we get to a student who has failed stuff, the first question the Academic Office asks is "Has this student been working with Student Support?" Even if they aren't that helpful in your uni, working with them means they know about the things you're struggling with, and that you've clearly been trying to work around the problems. That makes the Academic Office far, far more likely to take a lenient view of a student, rather than going "Well, clearly they just don't care then, withdraw them from the program." Your Student Support should be able to help you with counselling, study buddies, a support worker that can help you organise your time and interpret your assignment briefs correctly and give you interim deadlines, etc.

Oh, and remember to schedule in rest and downtime, just as much as study time.

And... honestly, you learned a lot in your first year. The learning curve is less steep in second year, even accounting for the academic rigour increasing. By now, you're basically used to things like referencing, routines, assignment formatting, etc. There are no more surprises, really. Now's the point you can get the bit between your teeth and run.

Anyway: good luck! And enjoy it as much as you can. University is hard, no doubt about that, but it can and should be fun as well.

#asks #the professional world of careers and tasks

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flokali · 1 year

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I need a smidgen, a drip, a smudge of the feeling of getting fucked by Zhongli and he's pressing down on your lower stomach. He's pressing down on your womb, making it press harder against his cock. He can feel the way his cock just parts your walls, how deep it's going, he can feel his hardness. He takes your hand and places it there. He's fucking you nice and slow. "Feel that, dearest? That's how... Deep... I am in you." His half lidded eyes just hypnotizing you and he fucks you harder when you became too dazed. "I want you awake for this, my love. I want you to break for me, to look into my eyes while I mark you from the inside"

Warnings: afab reader, marking, dumbification/mind break-ish, sub! reader/dom! zhongli, mentions of cum, possessive behavior. ask to tag!

Moaning and s(creaming) at this….

18+ UTC!

The thing about Zhongli is that he’s both thick and long, so it’s really no surprise that he fills your hole so well.

The first time you both had sex he couldn’t really slide all of himself in, it took a lot of stretching and lube the first time he ever fully sheathed himself inside of you.

However, the feeling of overwhelming fullness that comes from the way Zhongli practically impales you on his cock is like no other; You’re always left feeling empty whenever he pulls out.

The extra pressure he applies with his large hands on your lower tummy really overwhelms you the first time, it’s like you become overly aware of every bump on his cock, every vein and slight curve of his dick.

And Zhongli? He adores the way your pussy feels even tighter than before. It’s intoxicating and it’s addicting.

The Archon always preferred slow, sensual love making over rougher, more aggressive fucking. Slowly pumping his cock in and out, using his cum from previous orgasms to facilitate his assault on your hole. He sets a rhythm, one that goes in tandem with your heart, that has your hips meeting his hungrily.

He loves seeing you like this.

One hand on your lower stomach, the other clutching your leg to spread you wide open for him. The pressure is light at first, he slowly works your tummy down until your walls are molded into the shape of his cock.

Taking your hand into his own, he presses your palm where his tip is laid inside of you.

“That’s how deep inside you I am…” He comments, his eyes glowed in the darkened room, capturing your attention.

The words aren’t vulgar but the notion has you tightening your grip around him, your legs instinctively closing against his body in an attempt to bring him closer, shove him even deeper inside your greedy hole. Your eyes involuntarily roll back inside your head as he hits the entrance to your womb.

He lets go of your leg, opting instead to tap at your cheek, demanding your attention be on him again.

“Look at me, beloved,” he grabs your chin and you try to focus on his face, however, the pleasure was becoming too much for you, “I’m going to mark you now, fill you up with my cum… you’re going to break so beautifully for me.”

It’s with that said that he finally picks up the pace, hand finally shoving against your womb, balls hitting your ass, his cock is being pumped inside you at such a pace you can feel your whole body rock in sync with the bed you laid on. His cock only grows harder inside of you, his head practically splitting your cervix open.

Your grip on reality loosens at every thrust, your thoughts focused solely on feeling good and cumming on the thick, fat cock that was violating your pussy.

You feel your tummy grow warm, and as you look down you notice a Geo symbol slowly glowing where Zhongli laid his hand. This had been his plan, to mark you both inside and out, so that whatever poor soul decided to lay eyes on you would know you belonged to him and him alone.

Your grip on reality loosens at every thrust, your thoughts focused solely on feeling good and cumming on the thick, fat cock that was violating your pussy.

#yandere genshin #<- kind of #yandere zhongli #zhongli smut #zhongli x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #dom zhongli #afab reader #๋࣭ ancient scrolls #yandere genshin impact #ㅈ

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seramilla · 1 month

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Vaggie: What do you mean you knew it?! How?!

Clara: You act a lot like Mama does when she gets growly and protective! Plus you look way too much like mama did when we were alive! I can't believe I was right though! I get to finally be a big sister!

Odette: This explains mama crying...we had all been devastated when we died and thought we'd never get to meet you...But it's nice to officially meet you hermanita.

Carmilla: Sobs and gathers her babies close.

Vaggie hasn't been hugged many times in her afterlife. The first time had probably been Charlie, when her princesa first found the lonely new "Sinner" extremely weak and fighting for her life on the streets of Pentagram City. She'd taken Vaggie home, and nursed her back to health. Her hugs are like a fluffy cloud, or a warm blanket. Welcoming and inviting in their embrace, if not a bit pressurizing and forceful when her bubbly personality starts to come on a little strong.

The second had been Carmilla, of course. Unexpected, and at first overwhelming, it had been entirely different from Charlie's hugs. There had been a sense of protectiveness there, and also a desire to comfort and console. Vaggie had never experienced Carmilla's type of maternal love before -- it was similar to Charlie's way of showing affection, but not controlling or demanding to be felt.

Clara's is somewhere in the middle -- a bit more forceful than she normally likes, but once experienced, Vaggie can't help the lump from forming in her throat. Clara almost threatens to lift her off the ground, she's holding onto Vaggie so hard. Vaggie facilitates it; she has to reach up, but puts her arms around Clara's shoulders. She's standing on tiptoe to do so, but she suddenly wants to be even closer to the girl. She doesn't even care if Clara starts to spin her a little. The demon is happy, and laughing. It starts to rub off on Vaggie, too.

And then Carmilla and Odette are added to the mix, and they're all hugging her at the same time, and wow! Vaggie decides right then there's nothing else like this feeling in the world. Vaggie had once been lost. But now, like the Heavenly song says, Vaggie feels found. Not by one, or even two, but by four entirely different souls who love her, all in their own unique way. Vaggie had never even known there were so many types of ways to be loved. Now that she's had them all, she never wants to let any of them go.

She does have to let go, eventually, however. But of the three of them, Clara is the one who holds on the longest. When she and Vaggie finally step back from each other, there's a genuine smile on both their faces. Vaggie doesn't cry again. It's a near thing, but she's honestly too exhausted to shed any more tears. She's more curious than sad at this point. So before any of them can change the subject, she looks at Clara, because she just has to know.

"How? How did you know?"

Clara laughs again, like Vaggie has just told her a joke, or is trying to pull a fast one on her. When she realizes Vaggie is completely serious, she motions up and down around the angel with her hands, like the answer should be completely obvious.

"Look at you!" Clara exclaims, continuing to motion with her hands. "The hair, the eyes, the way you fight! Even your complexion is the same! Also, you look just like Mama did when she was your age. We had pictures we could show you, if we were still alive...but you'll just have to take my word for it."

Odette steps in, as if to interject, also wanting to say her piece.

"We didn't think much of it when Lucifer asked us to give a sample to see if we were a blood match. Everyone at your Hotel did, too, by the way. Clara said that wasn't what tipped her off...it was just the way Mama acted around you after the fact. She spent an entire day with you at the hospital. You're all she's talked about for days now! Honestly, I feel pretty stupid for not realizing something more was going on here."

Clara nods, and continues on from Odette's line of reasoning. "Yeah! And I overheard Lucifer telling Mama about what Exorcists really are. After that, it was obvious!"

"You didn't tell me that!" Odette accuses her, crossing her arms, and shooting Clara a death glare, like she's just been thoroughly betrayed.

Clara gives Odette a cheeky grin and sticks her tongue out. "You didn't ask!"

Vaggie chuckles, holding her hand to her face to try and hide it from the squabbling sisters. Is this what it feels like, she wonders? To argue? To bond? To throw around silly quips at one another without getting offended, because you know it's all in good fun?

Is this what it feels like, to be sisters?

Carmilla decides to move into the sisterhood circle just then. Maybe it's her maternal instincts doing damage control, putting a stop to Clara and Odette's verbal and physical sparring match before it unfolds on the floor right in front of her. Or maybe she just wants to hug Vaggie some more. Because she does. Vaggie finds she doesn't care about the actual reason. The way Carmilla pulls her into her embrace now is far less strained and awkward, and much more natural, than before.

She falls into it like a habit; like she's been doing it forever. Carmilla's hugs are just as warm as Charlie's. She could definitely get used to this, Vaggie thinks. For the rest of her afterlife, if not longer.

"My girl," Carmilla says softly into Vaggie's ear, starting to choke up all over again, breathing softly into her hair. Seeing the overlord Carmilla Carmine cry for her, with her, will never not be novel for Vaggie.

Carmilla, her mother, is practically lifting the fallen angel off the ground, to draw her in even closer.

"Mi hija. My baby. I'm so glad that I've found you at last. Welcome home, mi hermosa."

"Gracias, Mamá," Vaggie responds, and fuck, if that doesn't sound so odd and foreign rolling off Vaggie's tongue. But it also feels so perfectly normal, and so right. Just like Carmilla, Odette, and Clara's hugs, she could easily get used to saying those things, as well.

Vaggie sends a message to Charlie later that evening, to let her know she's staying at Carmilla's overnight: "Don't wait up for me, hon. We have a lot to catch up on. I'll be back home in the morning. Love you!

Charlie responds with an ungodly barrage of heart and smiley face emojis, followed by an enthusiastic string of letters in all caps: "I LOVE YOU, TOO, SO MUCH, VAGGIE!!! I'M SO HAPPY FOR YOU, SWEETIE!!!! I CAN'T WAIT TO HEAR ALL ABOUT IT!!! YOU BETTER TELL ME EVERYTHING AND NOT LEAVE ANYTHING OUT!!!"

Vaggie smiles. She won't leave anything out. She has a lot of firsts to catch up on with her family in the coming days, so she puts her phone back in her pocket, and takes that first step.

She quite literally has all the time in the world now. But being the impatient individual that she is, she'll see how much of it she can cram into that first night. Carmilla had mentioned some of Clara and Odette's embarrassing baby stories earlier, when they'd all been around the dinner table. Thank Heaven, Vaggie thinks, that she doesn't have any of those.

#hazbin hotel #carmilla carmine #vaggie #vaggie hazbin hotel #odette hazbin hotel #clara hazbin hotel #charlie morningstar #lucifer morningstar #ask #anon #fan theories #vaggie carmilla related au

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apocalypse-shuffle · 1 year

Text

RED HOOD | BATFAMILY (assorted canon)

────────────────────

“Long Overdue” (Jason Todd & Batmom!Reader) and (background Bruce Wayne x Batmom!Reader)

| Reader was with Bruce in the past but grew distant after Jason’s death. No one tells her when he comes back from the dead until Bruce is forced to bring her in on a raid when they’re overwhelmed. -Jason and Batmom!Reader reunion.

| SFW, canon typical action/violence, cursing?, brief mention of suicidal thoughts

| This is like half fanon half UTRH/Batman:Hush. I’m really just fucking around with canon rn. Also the pictures used are just for aesthetics and have no contextual meaning to the story. (pic source - Batman: Three Jokers comic)

| 2k+ words

| parts: one, spurt, two, three, four, five, six/six point five, seven.

You brace your hands on your hips, stern twist to your features.

“I failed worse than I thought as a parent if you think a couple of dropped criminals is going to make me hate you-.”

“There’s way more than a couple,” he scoffs.

You’re swiping your hand through the air before Jason’s even finished, the furrow on your face mirroring his own perfectly.

“And I truly don’t give a fuck.”

Whatever he was about to say stops dead on the tip of his tongue and he balks, eyes widening a fraction.

“Ma…”

And it almost - it almost makes you laugh out loud. The way he says it.

The mirth that leaks into your voice can’t be helped. “Boy…” you shake your head. “Nothing about this situation is normal, your killing isn’t going to be the magic thing that throws me off. Plus, I have been looking into what you’ve been doing. I know you've killed people and honestly…I don’t care. The hero sticht was never for me, I have a code and it’s not Bruce’s, but at the end of the day none of that matters. Your choices are your own Jason.”

You swallow thickly before continuing, “You’re an…adult now, you don’t need my blessing.”

You won’t say it cause you know it’ll piss him off, but Jason didn’t operate in uncertainty the same as Bruce. So attempting to talk him out of a decision would’ve just been begging to have your time wasted. If Jason thought his way was what Gotham needed then that was the end of the discussion on his part. You only regret what facilitated the fundamental shift in his stance of what’s “necessary” to keep people safe.

In spite of what you've said Jason’s features go back to being steeped, brows meeting and jaw clenched.

“That’s- that’s true. I know that,” you hum an affirmative and his eyes flash to yours. You haven’t seen that look in years. Like he’s sizing you up. It makes the corners of your lips quirk that you get to see it at all. “Just making sure you know where I stand.”

Your brow raises.

“Uh huh,” you nod to yourself. You have an inkling about why exactly he felt the need to jump at telling you off. “Even if he gave you a hard time about what you're doing your father does still love you, you know?”

Jason shakes his head harder this time, almost snarling.

“He’s not my damn father.”

At his tone you stiffen too. The shift feels like a punch to the gut and you can’t help but react as if the hit was real. It almost feels like it was.

Jason hadn’t exactly been smiling before but if you’d thought he was being distant then, you’ve been shown for a fool now. All that grace he was giving you is completely gone.

“…,” you look over the harsh lines of his face, the way his upper lip curls, and it makes your chest ache. The conversation went worse than you thought then. Buildings blew up all the time in Gotham, and Jason didn’t seem too banged up but- “Alright. Okay, Jason, I’m just reminding you that he works in absolutes. His anger likely isn’t at you specifically, just your methods.”

He sighs out roughly and when he straightens completely out of your hold you have to swallow back a noise of protest. “I know that, but it shouldn’t excuse him.”

He crosses his arms.

“He left me,” he forces out. You squint, confused. “I was holding out for him and he left me for that damn clown. From what I gather Joker set off the explosives I tied him up with - which wasn’t my most well thought out plan but that’s not the point. The point is when it went off he didn’t save me. Bruce took the Joker and left me for dead. Not me and that green haired freak, just me. I woke up under piles of rubble by myself.”

Your face drops, you can feel it, and Jason definitely sees it by the way his scowl reappears.

“What, you don’t believe me? It’s too hard to reconcile the man you love being the type to leave me to die?”

You hold up a finger and Jason almost (almost) cusses you out, you can see it on his face, but five years away apparently didn’t stop your glare from being more effective than his. Batglare™️ be damned you were still his mother.

“Jason, Bruce has surprised me a lot today, but I’m not gonna take that out on you cause I know better. What I am gonna ask is that you not take that tone with me; if you do it again I’m walking out this room and we can try this another day.” You huff and relax back into the neutral position you were sporting before. “I understand you’re angry and- and I honestly don’t know why you aren’t more mad at me, but if this anger is not for me don’t take it out on me. Have I made myself clear?”

He doesn’t let his head duck like he might’ve years before. No, this time he stubbornly keeps eye contact but he can’t stop how a flush climbs all the way to the tips of his ears. He sighs, shoulders dropping.

“You’re right. I’m sorry Ma.” You inexplicably soften at his words and move to grab his hand, squeezing it and using your hold to pull him back in. He squeezes back the tiniest bit and you give him a closed mouthed smile. “You're being leagues more understanding than he was.”

“Well you are killing people Jay.”

“No. No, I’ve seen him treat Dent with more compassion and he kills. He murders. I watched him pick Joker over me. How am I less deserving than that monster? That doesn’t feel like absolutes or objectivity or whatever to me.”

Even in his quietness his voice crackles along the edges. You bite the inside of your lip. That was a good question. How did Bruce make that decision? Your brows move together. Your ex, even at his most logic driven, wouldn’t let that happen. Maybe with the Joker. He’d already tried the whole ‘I won’t kill you but I won’t save you either,” thing with the villain but this? Jason was nowhere close to Joker levels of bad. You can’t-

Looking at Jason now - Jason who’s genuinely letting you process what he just dropped on you - you cannot fantom what would possess Bruce to leave Jason to be overshadowed by death again. His son. Your fucking son. You sneer, teeth grinding together.

“I want to know what happened.”

Now is when Jason chooses to come back down. His anger going once more to the foreground in the face of your own rising temper.

“Ma…you don’t-”

“I do,” you stand up straighter. Jason’s schools his expression fast, but for a split second he was giving off the distinct impression of a teenager who just got caught in a lie and can’t figure out what gave them away. So where’s the lie? “Tell me.”

Jason blows air out of his nose and cuts you a slightly exasperated glare but he does start speaking.

“I- we fought. It wasn't exactly cute, we were both going hard, but the goal was leading him to where I had the Clown strung up, so I let him get more hits in than I probably should’ve.”

Jason pauses, looking over at you. You only nod, allowing him to move at his own pace. Jason’s only slightly expanding upon information you and everybody else privy to Gotham news already knows, but you doubt over the last couple years he suddenly turned pathological. Jason only ever lied out of omission when you lived in the manor so him keeping the fine details of what went down from you now didn’t ping nicely in the back of your mind.

“I begged him to let me kill Joker - for everyone’s sake,” he admits. Voice gaining levity as if he’s telling a particularly far-fetched joke before dropping back down. “I guess I should’ve known better, but I couldn’t believe it. That he’d just let Joker roam free after what he did to me - did to the hundreds of innocent lives he’s wiped off this planet. How could Batman let that go unpunished, you know? But I figured maybe he’d been holding out cause a what pixie boots me woulda done: saved the bastard despite everything for the sake of second chances.”

Another glance to you, but you don’t stop him so Jason keeps going. Voice quiet and more present yet no less intense.

“But he’s had enough second chances. We should’ve stopped giving them out to that sack of shit years ago but we didn’t, and that’s on us, but I was giving him a chance to rectify that and let me do it for everybody. To send him off to hell right where he belongs, and you know what he did instead?”

You hold his gaze even though it hurts seeing all that anger. All that betrayal.

“He chose Joker,” you say faintly.

“Yeah,” Jason nods. The smile he gives you is acidic. “He chose Joker. And I set him up for it, but only because B wouldn’t just get it over with. He just kept giving me every excuse in the book, cause apparently that was too hard of a decision to make for me. So screw it I made him pick between the two of us. Helped his indecision along. Let me kill Joker myself or kill me to stop me from killing him, since he wanted to save that monster so damn badly.”

“Jay,” you say, deflating.

A sharp shake of his head is all you get by way of acknowledgment for the assisted suicide he nearly instigated.

“Bruce’s solution? Sl-”

Jason stops. This time when he takes you in his eyes are far away, and he refuses to meet your gaze. A few deft beats before his mouth goes slightly agape but nothing comes out.

“Jason…?”

He chuckles, brushing you off. Nothing’s funny though and when he looks back to you there’s something new in his eyes you haven’t seen yet. An expression that distinctly brings you back to a fifteen year old calling to ask if you’d been lying to him too. If you’d known about Sheila Haywood the entire time and said nothing.

“Don’t worry, I’m fine.” He swallows, “It’s just…at the end I got…emotional. Reckless. Turned my gun on him and he threw a batarang into…into the muzzle and it exploded in my hand. Then in the confusion I guess Joker got free and set off the bombs…and you know the rest: I’m so good I cheated death a second time,” he smiles. Something too big and with too many teeth to seem real.

“I don’t know whether I’m happy about that ‘second time’ or not,” you hold out your other hand and when he steps to take hold of it a small grin tugs at your lips. “But that’s only cause I don’t think you know either.”

You also don’t feel like he’s telling you everything, but for now this was a battle you were willing to rage another day. As long as he was safe it could wait.

Jason’s own smile shrinks to something more genuine.

“Maybe not today, Ma.”

“Yeah, I got you,” you say. “I’m tired of crying anyway.”

There is - after all - still a draft hitting your eyes that you are hopelessly ignoring the feel of. Jason grins.

“Well I’m starting to get a little faint myself so maybe you’re onto something, Old Lady.”

For a second you stop smiling, shooting him a cross look and sucking your teeth. He backs away from you to scoop up his helmet with a lighter, more real chuckle.

“Oh am I, smartass?” You turn around and knock him on the shoulder, urging him out the door while he gives an exaggerated ‘ouch!’. “See, I’ll show you old since you think you big and bad now that you can reach the top shelf.”

Despite the lighter air you’ve managed Jason only keeps laughing for as long as it takes him to reach the door. Once he opens it he freezes before he walks all the way through and turns back to you.

“I’m sorry about…everything. By the way.” Standing on the threshold with the smallest little frown on his face, he looks like a boy again and you smile at that warry frown.

Shrugging in between rows of grappling guns and prototype pellets you shake your head, rolling the stiffness from your shoulders and letting the twinge from the wound in your arm ground you.

“Don’t worry about me, I get it. If one confrontation went to absolute shit why wouldn’t the other? Trust though, with the situation at hand Bruce is my problem not you.” You point at him. “But you better call me after this.”

Jason stays looking at you silently then gives you one nod and slips that helmet right back on. Inwardly you protest the action but outwardly you content yourself with nodding back.

When he turns away and you can’t see anything but reinforced tact gear and shiny red you find your mouth opening again.

“Love you,” you call out. Just so he knows you never stopped.

His voice is soft over the modulation of the helmet when he responds with a: “Thanks Ma,” then you can’t see him anymore.

…TBC

NOTES: Hope you enjoyed!!

Also, I’m thinking about going on hiatus after finishing Long Overdue to give myself a break and shit, so yeah. I’ll (probably) come back on some unspecified date in July though so it’s not like I’ll even be gone for that long. Or like most people give a shit, but whatever.

Also also, I don’t know if I hit the mark and if the feelings were feeling, you know? But I made an attempt, I think that’s commendable.

btw: if you’d like to leave a comment I’d very much appreciate it. this is a sideblog tho so I won’t respond.

Tagged: @aarinisreading, @niphredil-14, @mxtokko, @calsjack, @brunnetteiwik

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blindbeta · 26 days

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Hello.

I am writing a superhero series and I have a blind superhero character. I am currently trying to research how to portray this character in a respectful and accurate way.

For context, this hero is part of the supporting cast, and is a character the MC meets later on in the story. Every character in this world has some sort of superpower. His is the ability to control sound waves. While he can use them in an echolocation sort of way to detect enemy attacks, he can't use them in his everyday life as using your power is just the same as doing any physical activity, it's tiring.

Though, some blogs I've seen seem to discourage giving blind characters superpowers. I don't think this character's powers necessarily "cancel out his disability" I just want to make sure I'm writing this character respectfully.

I guess what I'm asking is, do you have any tips for writing blind superhero characters?

Blind Characters, Echolocation, and General Tips for Writing Super-powered Blind Characters

I answered a similar question that might be helpful. It explored some problems with the echolocation trope. You can read it here.

Limiting the Use of Echolocation

I like the fact that he can’t use it for very long and that it is draining, much like eye strain or using echolocation in real life. Echolocation is also challenging to learn and is not a replacement for a cane or other mobility aid. It would be unhelpful with most day-to-day activities. I’m glad you are considering the possibility of a superpower erasing his blindness and avoiding it in daily life.

Although, I still wonder about his superhero life.

Can he be an active superhero without echolocation? If it is something he relies on to be a superhero, maybe that would be something to consider. If he is an active superhero without it, you’re on a good course.

Furthermore, does he only use his powers for echolocation? I would assume not, although I could not tell from your question, as your main concern is the echolocation aspect.

Addressing Common Concerns With the Powers Often Given to Blind Characters

1. Negating blindness

Controlling sound waves doesn’t necessarily negate blindness outside of echolocation possibilities, as far as I can imagine. Aside from the overly common trope of giving a blind character a sensory-based power, that is. My concern is less about superpowers in general and more about powers that negate blindness, such as those that provide sight. An example would be a character who uses visions of the future to be able to see the way a sighted person would.

Does he still navigate in a way that might be familiar to blind readers? Does he use orientation and mobility techniques? Does he use Braille or large print or brave regular text with headaches so frequent his pockets are full of medication? Does his blindness impact his life?

Blindness need not only limit a character. Is he better able to orient himself? Can he pick up on sounds and landmarks and changes in light with more ease than his teammates? Is he used to getting hurt while playing blind football and thus able to withstand typical scrapes and bruises without being slowed by them? These are only a few ideas and they will change depending on his level of vision, exposure to the blind community, and how long he has been blind.

2. The Power to See is Boring

Additionally, these powers usually focus on addressing blindness, rather than being powers in their own right. This is the difference between a superhero with the power to see and a superhero who can manipulate emotions with a brush of their hand.

Could you consider other uses for this power that aren’t echolocation? For example, could he use his powers to facilitate or conceal communication? To amplify sound? Think of applications for the power that don’t involve echolocation or creating a way to see. Create other uses for echolocation. From your question, it seems you are already considering this.

The way you described use of the power doesn’t seem to negate blindness to me. I also think that considering other uses of this power outside of echolocation (which is often written to negate or reduce the impact of blindness) would be helpful.

Also, as I was reading your question again, I wondered if there are any other blind characters in the story. Since everyone has powers, that could be interesting to explore even if they don’t decide to be superheroes.

I hope this gives you some ideas to explore. Feel free to send a follow-up ask if needed.

#blind #blind characters #writing blind characters #blind superhero #echolocation

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honeesucker · 2 years

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One -

Pairing: ProHero!DynaMight | Katsuki Bakugo x Puppygirl!Reader

Word count: 3,331

Series Content Warnings: Little bit of a slow start... Graphic Depictions of Past Abuse & Trauma Response | Profuse Usage of Pet Names / All-around Softness | Bakugo Experienced Work-Related Trauma (causing near deafness, being put on leave from the agency, PTSD) | Eventual smut™ (will be tagged in individual chapters - to include but not limited to KiriBaku, HybridxHybrid, Hybrid heat trope, sex toy usage).

*Not proofread.

Previous | Next

Katsuki Bakugo wasn’t an undisciplined person in any way and anyone who had ever spent more than five minutes with the man would know it, back at UA his classmates knew it. His attitude and showmanship justifiable by his actions: hard work, determination to be the best at anything, unwavering confidence. So, it was no surprise that when he was presented with something that made him nervous, left him restless in bed having only gotten around five hours of solid sleep (unacceptable), that he dove head-first into internet research into hybrids, into the rescue facility itself – any reliable informative source Katsuki could get his hands on... he devoured all with a ravenous mind.

He learned that there is a largely biological difference between hybrids and those with an animal quirk. He learned that there are hybrids of different biological levels – some he learned were bred or trained to lean more into their animal natures, while others acted similarly to those with animal quirks (largely human with animal likeness or simple qualities) – the bigger difference being they were still highly susceptible to the whims of their animal DNA (i.e., still driven by instinct, still at the mercy of their biological clocks as present in their hybrid DNA in regard to migratory urges, mating patterns... things of a more engrained nature). He knew now that something he needed to consider was what would be best for him – a hybrid that, like TetsuTetsu was fiercely like his hybrid side but if you didn’t notice the ears and tail at first would just mistake him for a high-strung human, or one that while appearing mostly human would be more aligned with their animal side internally – Katsuki decided he’d wait and see what was suggested at the meeting he had set for later in the evening at the rescue facility. He read up on the efforts of the facility and was nothing less than impressed by their work to rescue, rehabilitate and facilitate safe adoption for their hybrids, but also all of their compiled free resources to learn more about anything one could think of in regards to hybrids, as well as offering in-person classes to be exposed further to important topics and nuances of hybrid life and ownership – classes, Katsuki noted, he would have to take before being chosen to take home a hybrid.

The rest of the morning was a blur of Katsuki half in, half out of consciousness due to his lack of sleep. He moved around the house way too fatigued but managed to make a simple stir-fry in the morning just to get something into his body, and later giving in to his needs and taking a two-hour nap before waking up to shower, and get ready for the first meeting at the rescue facility to get the process started... and though he held a lot of uncertainty he was also looking forward to something like this – something that might help him not feel so alone.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Katsuki was just half-watching a street food documentary series when he heard his phone ping! with a message notification.

3:37 P.M. [Shitty Hair] Hey dude! TetsuTetsu and I are on our way to pick you up... he wanted to come and see some of his friends.

3:39 P.M. [Blasty Boy] Whatever as long as the rockhead doesn’t drool on me.

3:45 P.M. [Shitty Hair] Awe are you wanting to make a good first impression Bakubro? So cute~

Katsuki slammed his phone down, a burning pink tinge to the tips of his ears as he grumbled to himself at the last message.

He just didn’t want to look dirty for the interview.

Another hour had passed before Kirishima finally texted that he was down in front of Katsuki’s building waiting for him, which prompted the blonde to thumb through the folder he had with all the requested documents, glancing at each page for the fifth time again before deciding he hadn’t forgotten anything. He threw on a well-worn leather jacket over his casual outfit and stepped into his boots, taking a final look behind him before stuffing his wallet into his pocket where his phone already sat, and heading out the door with a final click of the automatic door lock.

In the elevator his body felt like a can of compressed air thrown into a fire – ready to burst – but he just took in slow breaths (agency sanctioned therapy) and as he reached the lobby and made his way out, he walked toward the dark sportscar that awaited him, seeing the back window rolled halfway down with TetsuTetsu’s excited face glancing around at the few people on the street until he saw Katsuki.

“Hey, heeeey! Bakugo!” TetsuTetsu was shouting out the window at the man’s approach and Bakugo simply rolled his eyes at the annoying display. Opening the door and sliding into the front passenger seat just as TetsuTetsu was shouting another round of greetings out the window at him.

“Shut up ya damn brick head!” Bakugo growled out, “don’t you have a damn shred of self-control?”

“Plenty!” TetsuTetsu replied, sitting back against the seat with an excited bounce, nearly jumping out of his skin to see Bakugo... even if he just saw him last week.

“Tch,” Bakugo scowled, but Kirishima picked up on the slight quirk to the corner of his friend's lips as he pulled the seatbelt across his chest. “Dumbass acting like he hasn’t seen me in years.”

“Ready to go, dude?” Kirishima beamed at his friends who only answered with a quiet grunt. The drive to the facility was about 45 minutes from Katsuki’s apartment, and he took notice of how the further they drove the scenery changed so drastically for such a short distance. Larger skyscrapers and bustling paved streets giving way to more rural, residential areas until he saw the large facility come into view. Katsuki had been in this area before but never noticed the expansive property even one time. It was partially hidden behind rows of trees, and there was a long, looping driveway to reach the front of the facility.

“TetsuTetsu and I come here to volunteer a lot,” Kirishima finally broke the silence from the ride, “he likes to come and see some of his friends and socialize, and I help as an acting liaison since a lot of hero work does include rescuing hybrids either from disaster zones, or worse situations.”

“I never knew that,” Katsuki added, though he had his share of hybrid rescue situations, he never once contemplated where they went after they were taken away – he wondered if they all came to a safe place like what was before him. “Also never knew that you had so much damn free time on your hands to come play around with puppies and shit...” Katsuki walked past the doors as they parted automatically, Kirishima laughed, walking behind him with a shit-eating grin knowing his friends was playing his emotions off cooler than he was feeling. Knowing what he knew of his friend, he was more nervous than anything and that made Kirishima hopeful for Bakugo’s recovery. Whatever that future held, he was certain, as he watched his friend’s back while he walked toward the center desk where a staff member was waiting to greet them, that he wouldn’t be alone and everything would be okay.

Knowing Bakugo, he knew it wouldn’t be an easy process – but he could see the future becoming a brighter shade with each step.

“Ah, welcome back Red Riot!” The staff member beamed excitedly, “and welcome Mr. DynaMight!” She added, “and our little TetsuTetsu! Look how big you’ve gotten!” TetsuTetsu had a smile that took over his whole face as he puffed out his chest at the praise, allowing the woman to give a scratch at the top of his head between his tall ears.

“Alright Bakugo, you’re in good hands with Hina! TetsuTetsu and I are going to be in the common area, we’ll probably see you later once you’re given the tour. Text me if you need anything!” Kirishima was being dragged off by TetsuTetsu who was excitedly going on about who he wanted to see, his silver tail wagging so fast it blurred behind him. Hina got Bakugo’s attention, walking away to lead him toward the meeting room where he was going to be interviewed by the director, go over the paperwork and make copies of the documents he brought, thankful that this was all laid out in the call when he made the appointment – Bakugo liked to be as prepared as possible walking into new situations.

Hina had dismissed herself as she showed Bakugo where he could grab a snack or coffee, tea, water – she offered him everything even as he declined, certain anything that would go into him at this moment would come right back out. He was told the director was running a bit late but should be with him in about ten minutes. He was fine to have the room to himself to calm down, he could feel his palms slickening the more anxious he got and the last thing he wanted to do was blast the damn director with a handshake.

Maybe he did want that tea.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Across the facility in the common room Kirishima was crowded by his normal little friends, excitedly saying hello and telling him about their recent activities since his last visit. His eyes scanned for TetsuTetsu he noticed was frozen to the spot where in stood just in the doorway that led out to the garden. He followed the hybrid’s gaze to a small puppy hybrid curled up underneath a tree bathed in speckled sunlight. Kirishima watched as TetsuTetsu walked out into the garden with tentative steps and saw the puppy hybrid’s wide eyes shoot up toward him.

What a beautiful little creature.

He took in how small you were compared to most other hybrids he’s met so far (aside from the very smallest types), noting that you would definitely only come up to just under his chest, similarly compared to Bakugo a few inches higher on him at the center of his chest - maybe. Your ears were tall points atop your head, and the large, fluffy tail behind you started to give slow thumps as you watched TetsuTetsu approach. Kirishima observed his hybrid sit and pull you into his lap, rubbing his cheek atop your head and watching as your body shook a little, light catching a glistening on your cheek just before it was thumbed away. You shook your head, palming away the tears before giving a beaming smile up at TetsuTetsu whose tail was wagging wildly looking down at you, but Kirishima could see it.

The way the smile didn’t reach your eyes.

He spent more time with the hybrids gathered in the common room, always keeping an eye on his hybrid and the new little companion. Kirishima was soon being pulled multiple ways by hybrids and staff alike to help where it was needed getting lost in the bustle of what normally came with spending time at the hybrid facility – work. It was a brief moment when his eyes darted back out into the garden where he didn’t see you or TetsuTetsu that Kirishima’s whole body went cold with nerves before he settled himself, knowing that even if you both wandered the place you were in was safe. He just always felt better having eyes on TetsuTetsu since he brought him home. It was when he heard a familiar laugh that he noticed you both sitting in front of a T.V. watching Pro Hero fights, TetsuTetsu exclaiming loudly at each incredible move, and you curled up into TetsuTetsu’s lap looking so contented just to share space with someone. Kirishima decided to walk over and introduce himself, but with the way he noticed your eyes always darting around, watching the way your body jumped – just slightly – at each louder than normal noise... he knew he had to approach you carefully than most.

“Hey buddy,” Kirishima called out, lowering his normal boisterous tone to a gentler level, “what’cha watching?”

“Ah Eijiro! Look, look, look!” TetsuTetsu almost threw you out of his lap if he didn’t have an arm hooked around your body holding you to him. “It’s an old Fourth Kind fight!” TetsuTetsu’s tail was whipping behind him with a furious thump seeing the fight. You were leant against his chest with your cheek squished by his shoulder as your eyes studied the huge red-headed Pro standing nearby. Kirishima gave you a bright smile but noticed the way your eyes widened, he wondered if it was the sharp teeth or just being noticed by someone new, he kept his eyes on you with a kind expression on his face as he got TetsuTetsu’s attention back, “Hey bud – who’s your little friend?”

“Ah!” TetsuTetsu tightened his grip on you as he turned his body slightly to show more of you. “This is Tiny!” Kirishima knelt down on the floor, squatting with his butt against his legs to be less of an impending sight to you.

“Tiny huh? Is that really your name?” Kirishima kept the smile on his face, kept his tone gentle and noticed the way you shook your head slowly, but then shrugged – TetsuTetsu popping back into the conversation with a quick, “I call her Tiny because she is! Also, because she said she didn’t have one...” TetsuTetsu trailed off, attention being piqued again by the Pro Hero fight on the T.V. but Kirishima and you were having a staring contest, your ears and cheeks dusted a light pink as you rested your chin on TetsuTetsu’s shoulder.

“If it’s okay to ask,” Kirishima wanted to grab you from his hybrid and curl you up in his arms himself with how cute you looked at the moment, but knew he had to swallow down those feelings. “You don’t have a name?”

“Mm,” you shrugged, “not one I care to have.”

“Have you ever thought about choosing one for yourself?” Kirishima tested the waters, and it seemed you relaxed more around him now than when he first walked over, but you still stole tentative glances at TetsuTetsu for reassurance.

You slowly shook your head, “not really – not if everyone is gonna call me something different anyway.”

The way you said that made Kirishima’s blood turn, but he didn’t let it affect his interaction with you, opting to keep the smile and calm demeanor going, “What do you like to be called most?” Kirishima saw you falter for a moment, probably never having been asked that question before.

“I like when Tetsu calls me Tiny,” the warm smile lit up your face so beautifully, “and almost everyone else I know just calls me Puppy because... I’m a puppy, or really lots of other names too...” your voice got softer a trailed off at the end. Kirishima could see something brewing behind your eyes but didn’t push it further as you rubbed behind your neck a little nervously.

“Is it okay for me to call you eith-” Kirishima could get his full sentence out before you just grinned widely and nodded your head.

“M’okay with anything if it isn’t mean,” you say softly, and Kirishima thinks his heart is going to explode.

˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

Across the facility at the tail end of the interview Bakugo thought his heard was going to explode just the same.

“Well, Mr. Bakugo I’m thoroughly impressed with how you’ve answered my questions, and asked your own,” the facility director was thumbing through her own notes and the documents Bakugo had brought with him ensuring all was in order. “I’ve never had an adoption prospect be as informed and prepared as you’ve made yourself which is wholly impressive and says so much about how you’d go into owning a hybrid – truly impressed,” the woman was nodding and repeating herself but Bakugo wasn’t hearing a definitive yes to moving forward so he kept waiting with bated breath. “I’d like to take you for a tour of our facility and tell you more about our efforts, and what you can expect moving forward in this program, and we can meet some of the hybrids who are probably out wandering in the common room at this time as well.” Bakugo simply nodded in a daze, heart rate starting to slow back to a normal pace as he started to collect himself, following the director out of the meeting room and into a long stretch of hallway as she went on about the facilities history and all of what they offer for the hybrids in their care – all information Bakugo had read up on but hearing it as he toured the grounds was still enlightening.

Upon reaching a more open area that the director called the common room he took in the mild bustle of the room, hybrids of all types wandering, lounging and laughing with each other and staff alike.

“So, this is our common area where a lot of the hybrids who are suited for group environments come to socialize and spend their time,” the director drew Bakugo’s attention to the gorgeous garden they had, as well as a small food garden run by some of the facilities bunny hybrids who also helped out in the kitchen – they were a little skittish but super still super kind to show Bakugo around their garden. He also met a few wolf hybrids like TetsuTetsu, a cougar, two cats and a koi fish hybrid lounging in a large, open clearwater pond on the far end of the garden but what really caught Bakugo’s attention was on the other side of the garden in a separate part of the common room – more hybrids were lounging around at tables, but in front of a T.V. where old Pro Hero fight tapes were playing he saw Kirishima’s too large body sunk into a bean bag chair with TetsuTetsu curled up against his side, with a smaller form squished between them, mostly on Kirishima’s chest, nuzzled into his neck.

“Oh - that’s a sight that makes me happy,” the director sighed, sharing the same sight Bakugo was taking in. “That’s our newest hybrid, though she originally came to us just a short while before TetsuTetsu did she was also adopted out shortly after Mr. Kirishima took our TetsuTetsu in, but she’s had a hard time being placed with the right person – she's been surrendered back to us three time in the last year – she's had a rough go of it but always ends up seeking out the right people it seems.” Bakugo was drawn in to the three sleeping forms, walking closer until he was just a foot or so away. TetsuTetsu was snuggled into Kirishima’s side, mouth hanging open with the drool of a deep sleep. Kirishima was snoring lightly and had a hand brought up to wrap around the smaller form laying atop him. When his eyes laid on you, a little puppy hybrid with soft ears, tall, little triangles even as you slept, a big fluffy tail and an unnerving amount of old healed scars on the exposed skin he could see. Your face looked so peaceful, lashes shadowing on your cheeks, eyebrows drawn together in your sleep as if your dream bothered you, even a little kick of your leg across Kirishima’s stomach as you shifted in your sleep.

Something in Bakugo reached out from inside of him, his mind or his heart he couldn’t tell the difference – all he knew was that this feeling was one he couldn’t easily shake. He didn’t know if it was because you just looked like you needed protecting, or because the director said you were returned three times and he’s never turned down a challenge, but Bakugo now had his mark set on you – you are who he wanted to know more about, to bring home and keep safe, and he would jump through any hoops to make that happen.

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itmeblog · 7 days

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Random Audio Drama Writing Tips

The more characters you add to a podcast the more time it's going to take to do anything.

Details: In order to make characters matter, people need to care for them. The more characters you want people to care about, the more people your audience has to meet, grow attached to, and fortunately (or unfortunately) people need time to grow invested. This means more scenes, more interactions, more information.

This goes twice as much for nuanced characters who aren't meant to be immediately likeable.

This is not mentioning that the larger the cast the more logistical issues you are going to face even if you are doing all the voices. Like... doing all the voices, or scheduling, stamina is a big one for me (After Keryth's voice I have to take a break). How much time can you demand of these people or yourself? Are you paying them or is this volunteer?

On a similar note, the more characters you have, the less nuanced you can make them, and the more important it is to give them distinct and memorable personalities.

If you are working on a time limit (due to budget, personal preference, or just how much time you can dedicate to the project) you should decide what story elements you want to prioritize.

Details: Plot, characters, personal arcs, worldbuilding etc. Are all important parts of a story, but they all take time to express. Now you can have a big cast in a limited series but know that you may have to sacrifice bits of lore for character moments (to show/hit emotional beats) , or straight up tell (rather than show) people what the characters are about, in order to move a plot forward. This tradeoff becomes less likely the fewer characters you have or the more episodes you can create. There's probably always going to be some sort of tradeoff somewhere regardless of the set up you choose (I am sitting on so much lore because I tend to prioritize character beats and plot... not necessarily in that order)

Decide how you're going to use sound! (preferably before you even put pen to paper but that might just be a personal preference)

Details: Of course sound is very important in audio drama but how you use it is going to impact your script and the descriptions you have to provide.

I use sfx to represent a set. As in my characters are there, they are interacting with the environment, I have floor plans and objects they are holding/fiddling with, I know the texture of the ground, I know if they fling their arms they might hit a wall, etc. This means that I can often get away with cursory descriptions in dialogue that can come across fairly naturally. "Oh look the beach!" I don't need to describe the way the waves hit the shore or that the sand looks like this or that, because in the background you can hear the waves, and hear the characters in the sand and I can let people fill in the blanks on their own.

Frankly, I'm an extreme case. This takes a ton of time and makes my podcasts a bit difficult for people with audio processing issues.

Other podcasts use sfx to direct listener attention to important objects or places in the story.

An important rattle, the sound of a body hitting the floor, the clicking of a keyboard, music to indicate emotion. It's less about setting and more about overall vibes and keeping track of plot relevant objects. These tend to require a little more description in the dialogue and there's usually some sort of framing device that facilitates this (they're talking over intercom, they're making captain's logs, they're describing something to a friend, they're making a podcast, they're three narrators in a trench coat, the character just likes to talk to themselves, etc.)

And other podcasts just use music, a set soundscape, or a tape recorder background

These tend to be single narrator and they tend to read like prose! Descriptions are often lush and in depth, usually limited POV. They generally have to describe or tell you everything you need to know!

Each one has its merits and there's no rule saying you have to stick to one for the entirety of a project, or that you can't land in between! And these are relatively broadstrokes.

#random okay-ish writing advice from someone in the trenches

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strawberry-crocodile · 6 months

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Do you have any suggestions or tips for supporting my trans girlfriend? She's in her early 30s and only realised she was trans last year so she's very new to this. I realised I was non-binary around the same time (afab dunno if that makes a difference to this) so we're both navigating our way through being trans. But lately she's being really hard on herself especially in terms of appearance and not passing as much as she'd like. I don't really know how to support her through this cus saying she's gorgeous (she really is) or that she just needs to be patient with the transition aren't particularly helpful and just seem to push her further into a spiral. What can I be doing to help?

Well first, it's very sweet of you to reach out, and I'm flattered I'm someone you respect enough to ask. It sounds like you're a really supportive partner and I'm sure she's lucky to have you!

In my experience, yeah, early transition can be really really rough. I might recommend finding small things you can do to change her appearance? If her hair is long-ish maybe a cute hairclip or scrunchie can help. Early in transition my cousin gave me a cute bracelet and it really made me feel better to wear it! And I don't know how much you know about makeup, but if you're good with like, reshaping the face, that might help now and again.

The corollary to all this is not to go overboard, at least in my experience- keep hairties and makeup and earrings subtle, because for me at least something that was extremely fem mostly just made me think about the rest of my body. Try browns over pinks, for example.

Another thing- and I don't know how much you can do to facilitate this- is for her to get to know other transfems who are in other states of transition. It really helps to see and meet people who share features you hate but are still happy, confident women.

And keep her off 4chan. Whatever you do.

#blogodile

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wangxianficrecs · 8 months

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Falling Headlong by floraidh

Falling Headlong

by floraidh

T, 35k, Wangxian

Summary: In his third year of university in Shanghai, Lan Wangji promises his brother to try 21 new things before his 21st birthday. Apart from joining the Debate Society and learning to skateboard by himself...it's not going well That is until a brilliant but wild student crash lands into his life. Someone who makes Lan Wangji want to step out of his small, predictable life and try something very, very new... +++ Read for cute wangxian, romcom misunderstandings with happy endings, roller derby, romantic academia, autistic Lan Wangji POV and some very spicy noodles! Kay's comments: So, this story is really one of my comfort stories. It feels like a warm hug and I just have so much fondness for it. A modern AU in which Lan Wangji promised his brother to try 21 new things before his 21st birthday. Enter: Wei Ying, who is, of course, a whirlwind and facilitates many of the 21 things Lan Wangji will try. The vibes of this story are impeccable. It's really such a good romcom and I love the relationship progression of Wangxian and all the additional information the author provided! Really send me down a few research rabbit holes. Excerpt: “I’m Wei Wuxian. You were too fast for me yesterday, so I brought my skates today.” The young man tips forward and back onto his toe stops as he talks, making his ponytail swing. Wangji’s eyes settle on a spot above Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. “You should come to our roller derby tomorrow. Qingyang and Huaisang really want you to come.” But they didn’t invite me. Wangji thinks this distractedly because he is trying to remember where exactly he has heard the name Wei Wuxian before. “So you’ll come, right?” Still processing, Lan Wangji stands up to give himself more time and picks up his skateboard. Wei Wuxian tips forward on his toe stops again and smiles down at him. We’d be the same height if he were wearing shoes. The thought pushes coherent speech out of reach once again. With the skates on, Wangji’s eyes are almost in line with the skater’s lips, which are in the process of breaking into another perfect smile. His lips are slightly chapped, as if they have been bitten. “Not so much to say when you can’t include citations? How’s this for a quote: ‘I’ll come to the roller derby with you’ (Lan, 2018). How does that sound?” “Ridiculous.”

pov lan wangji, modern setting, modern no powers, college/university, first meetings, getting to know each other, fluff, romantic comedy, misunderstandings, happy ending, getting together, first kiss, autistic lan wangji, autistic lan xichen, neurodiversity, roller derby, skating

~*~

(Please REBLOG as a signal boost for this hard-working author if you like – or think others might like – this story.)

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kmgkmg · 11 months

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BACK TO US - 03. WATER DAY

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Soonyoung clears his throat before belatedly starting the meeting, “Water day! Wonderful leaders, sign up for the activity that you’re most willing to facilitate after lunch.”

After a few more reminders and check-ins he sat back down next to Hansol. You’re never one to be in much of a rush, so you went to the end of the line, prepared to fill in whichever remaining slot. As you walked up to the sign up sheet, your face immediately soured. Canoe Rowing - Joshua Hong.

Looking in Soonyoung’s direction, you put on your best pitiful expression to quickly change activities but he was nowhere to be seen. Joshua and Hansol were talking by the bagel bar which means Joshua still hadn’t realized your pairing yet. Yet. Soonyoung’s voice boomed from outside and once you looked out the window, you realized you were doomed. Soonyoung and another leader were picking teams for a game of water volleyball. Soonyoung’s excited self asking the kids to show off their skills to make them worthy of his recruitment.

Besides very brief interactions with him, this would be the first time you talked to Joshua for an extended amount of time since you were highschoolers. The time when you walked home from school together everyday. The time when his mom memorized your favorite foods and would invite you over for dinner spontaneously. The time when you would sing along to songs that he was learning on his guitar. The time when you knew what the other was feeling from the slightest change in their body language.

“We’re leading the canoe rowing together,” You inform him plainly. His blank expression to your statement helps in getting you out of your head with the previous memories playing through it.

He pauses for a few seconds, “...Alright.”

Soon after, the two of you were walking on the dock, campers in tow. Twenty minutes were spent going over the basics and emphasizing the importance of maintaining balance on the canoe while in the water. Once all the kids took off, you and Joshua finally got into your canoe. Your foot slips on the seat as you get into the canoe, resulting in your arms flailing as you try to stand up straight again. Joshua reaches out to help you out of instinct, but you fail to notice his attempt to assist. He awkwardly brushes both hands on his jeans, sitting down and causing the canoe to become even more unstable.

“Are you trying to make me fall, idiot?” You seethe.

A collection of ‘oohs’ can be heard from the campers as Joshua glares at you.

The moment that the campers in your group are out of earshot Joshua groans, “I never understood your high maintenance.”

You stop rowing with him, “High maintenance because I lost my footing for a second? Well, why were we best friends for our entire childhood then?”

“Beats me,” He shrugs and continues to row.

“Are you going to stay on your phone or help me?” Joshua grunts, making you finally put your phone down.

“You know saying please wouldn’t kill you, Joshua.”

“In your dreams, Y/N.”

You both sat in a heavy silence, watching the campers ahead of you giggle and have fun. Although you were hostile with one another, you couldn’t help but smile at seeing the campers happy. Both of you admired them before Joshua’s scream tore your gaze away from the occupied canoes ahead of you.

“Wasp! Wasp!” He points, standing up and trying to bat the bug away.

Water flows into the canoe as you pleaded with Joshua to calm down, “It won’t sting you if you stay calm! Just sit back down!”

“Say that when it buzzes close to your ear, Y/N!”

Your bickering continues as campers laugh at the level of childishness that rivaled theirs. The wasp circles around Joshua, causing him to move to your side of the canoe. His move was the tipping point, water flooded the canoe’s interior and as the wasp flew near the two of you, Joshua dragged you into the lake with him.

The cold sensation of the water shocks you as you submerge. You're left gasping for air as your head resurfaces.

“You can stand in this water, it’s not that deep,” Joshua lifts you by the waist, helping you overcome the initial shock of falling into the water.

Catching your breath, you grab the canoe and flip it right side up again. You were soaked. Thankfully, the sun was shining down on you, providing warmth for your freezing body.

“I hate you.” You snapped at the person who caused you to fall in.

“Hate you more.” Joshua retorted, walking to shore behind you.

a/n: is it an oar? is it a paddle? the world may never know...

taglist: @kthpurplesyou, @kokoiinuts, @fairywriter-oracle, @cookiehaos, @miruac, @fairybinie, @strawberri-uyu

(send an ask/reply to a post/dm to be added to the taglist!)

#kpopccc #kcampcouture #k-vanity #caratwritersclub #joshua hong #seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #joshua fanfic #joshua hong fake texts #svt fake texts #svt smau #seventeen smau #svt x reader #joshua fluff #seventeen fluff #kmgkmgoriginal #(the photo its an oar but canoes use paddles sooooo)

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afreakingdork · 7 months

Text

Weak Spot - Chapter 43

RotTMNT Donatello x Reader

I'm so soft for this week's chapter art by @garbagemilkshake

Warnings: Aged-up Turtles, Romance, Meet Cute, Villain Donatello, Cussing, Crushes, Xenophobia, Fear, Intimidation, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Hurt/Comfort, Love, AFAB Reader, Vaginal Sex, Sex Rough, Sex, Penis In Vagina Sex, Creampie, Teasing, Scent Kink, Sexual Tension, Breeding Kink, Multiple Orgasms, Cunnilingus, Fellatio, Marathon Sex, Somnophilia, Intercrural Sex, Bondage, Feral Behavior, Feral Donatello, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Public Sex, Dom Donnie, Human/Turtle Relationships, Turtle Noises

Synopsis: A love story of villainous proportions! Though it hadn’t come easily, as these things rarely do, you found yourself in a whirlwind romance with a handsome and mysterious mutant. His idiosyncrasies had been easy to ignore as attraction grew into something more. However, will love endure when the unknowns about him end up being far darker than you ever considered?

HUGE EAT SPLITTING PTERODACTYL SCREECH to @unknownfanartist who once did an amazing animation that inspired the crux of this chapter! I genuinely don't know if the patreon saw it, but I sure did. It still lives in my brain rent free and sometimes I just open it on my phone and stare.

Also gotta shout @thepinkpanther83 who asked for Donnie to get some loving to his poor overtaxed feet. i may have shied away from going as far as you wanted, but I hope you still like it 👉👈

ALSO I BET YOU UNCOVERED YOUR EARS WELL TOO BAD BECAUSE HERE'S ANOTHER DRUM BURSTING UNHOLY NOISE THIS TIME GOING TO @mothmans-left-nipple for giving me the INCREDIBLE TASTY DELICIOUS content of the repeated bites 😏😏😏 It was truly such a perfect addition! They always come in with the clutch finishing moves!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings Below Cut

Also available on Ao3

First 💜 Previous

Last warning for the 🍋 under the cut. Minors DNI!

Fem!Reader References/Warnings: scissoring, bra removal, folds fondling and adjusting, a mountain of slit mentions, and some clit stuff for good measure

Leaning back on the couch, you were uncomfortable. It wasn’t that you hadn’t moved in a while. In fact, the vegetative state you’d been in was pretty nice. It also wasn’t the hour. Sometime in the late afternoon, there was still enough time that dinner wasn’t quite a formed thought. It absolutely wasn’t the state of your partner. It was a limited touch day and it rarely bothered you when he needed space. It marked a sort of business as usual that you welcomed.

Still, you tugged at your shirt which felt sticky against your torso. Committing to sitting up, you glanced over the room before settling on your thighs. Through soft cotton pajamas, you could feel heat pockets boiling behind your knees. Making a little disgruntled sound at peeling them apart, you thought over the sensation.

It was almost as if you were hot.

The weather outside teetered on gorgeous which made little sense to your predicament. Rocking back to facilitate liftoff, you ambled onto your feet and headed toward the kitchen window. Sunlight poured in from an angle there and you basked in it. It marked an obvious warmth which brought your hand to the glass. The cold surface relented and said that the sun was a far cry from finishing its preheat. Autumn was seeping in and you almost wanted to ask if Donnie wanted to head up to the roof before it struck you.

It was stuffy because the weather was nice.

The A/C hadn’t kicked on because of it and you were sitting in dead air.

Almost laughing to yourself at how you missed something so obvious, you thought over what to do. A fan would only tip the precarious balance, so you quickly returned to your idea of heading out. Already picturing yourself in those comfy homemade chairs, you turned to relate this to your partner to find him at rapt attention.

The only problem was, it was in the huge novel he was reading.

Something he had supposedly been trying to get his hands on for a while, the huge tome had arrived in the mail with markings from all sorts of countries. Curious at the legality of it all, it had at least passed customs so something about it had to be on the up and up. Whatever it was, it at least wasn’t precious enough that Donnie wore gloves to read it. He was still mesmerized and had been neatly buried in it since it arrived the day before.

You weren’t even sure he’d slept even though he’d joined you in bed last night.

Smiling at him, you shook your head and headed over to relay that at least you would be on the move. “Don.”

His gaze was churning text like a typewriter.

“Donnie, I’m going to the roof. Wanna read up there with me?”

His eyes hit the end and he turned the page in a flurry as if he could not get enough.

You could just leave him.

You could walk away.

You were happy for him.

That was the honest truth.

You also desperately wanted to kick his book up like a schoolyard bully and make it hit his snout.

Resisting those urges though it technically fell into the category of not true touch, you gave a tepid sigh and rounded him for something a little more dramatic. Circling the couch, you approached your side before giving a calculated wobble. You then swung up a forearm to your head and gave a pathetic, wispy groan. “It’s oh so stuffy.”

He didn’t move an inch.

“It’s almost like I can’t breathe!” With a smooth teeter back and forth, you then pretended to faint as Victorian women did in movies.

Your weight literally thrown onto the couch, it was enough that it skidded angrily away from you. You still made it, a flop into cushions and sent one pillow over the edge to its doom. With your half now at least a foot off from its original location, you watched as Donnie lowered his book incrementally. Gaze still glued to paper, his pupil dotted off something before he sent dull irritation straight ahead.

Seeing he’d make the turn, you flopped your head back against the couch to appear unconscious.

“It seems as though I am needed.” His tone was huffy.

Knowing your eyes were squirming under lids, you tried to at least tame your wrinkled smile into one more neutral.

With a snap, his book closed and you felt the couch dip slightly as he turned toward you. “You know I could have continued to read, through your display.”

Your lips puckered around a giggle and you had to bite down on it.

“Oh no.” There wasn’t a hint of interest in his voice. “It seems as though Y/N is having a bad dream. Nothing I can do.” Weight moved on a cushion that said he was returning to his book.

“You didn’t even check.” You whispered, trying to make it sound like it was the room.

“Sleep talking, fascinating.”

You cracked an eye open to find him miming as if he were flipping through the pages, but his head was turned, staring at you.

“Look at that.”

Immediately caught, a little surprised noise wiggled in your throat.

“You need only ask.” He leaned forward, overlooking you.

“I did.” You stared back openly.

His lips dropped a minute amount. “No, you threw yourself on the couch.”

“No.” You shared his tone before twisting it to sit up straight. “I called your name a few times and asked you a question.”

His head tipped, not believing.

“I did.” You said sternly, raising your brows.

His came down with twice the weight. “I see…”

“Hey.” You kicked a foot out, but kept from touching him. “I’m glad you like your book.”

He looked down at said novel.

“No need to worry. I was going to head up to the roof and wanted to see if you’d join me.”

Brows coming up incrementally, they caught on something. “How does that correlate?”

“With the fainting?” You chuckled.

He looked to you as a confirmation.

“It’s stuffy in here. Can’t you feel it?”

Another thing lost to his distraction, you watched him take the air. “So… it is…”

“Don.”

He faced you.

“It’s okay to be distracted. I should have let you be.” You urged with a tip of your head.

“A shade too far.” He spoke more to himself. “The roof?”

“Yeah, I’m tired of that sticky feeling.” You moved to get up only to remember you’d attacked the couch. Giving an amused puff, you stepped back before dropping down. Squat with your feet adequately apart, you tucked your fingers under the ridge of the sofa to pull it back into place.

“You underestimate my weight.”

“It’ll slide.” You retorted and tugged.

The sofa gave a squeaky inch.

“Only 13 more of those to go.”

Puffing your cheeks out, you took a deep breath before heaving with your entire body.

You managed exactly three more inches before your fingers slipped free from the fabric. Momentum carrying you, your back slammed into the little coffee table and you gave a yelp. Donnie appeared at your side, setting his book aside and hovering.

“I’m okay…” You waved him off, keeping your limbs to yourself. “Pride hurts more than anything.”

He sat back on his heels.

With him moved, you sighed abysmally before reaching out and easily putting the couch back into place.

“A little back actually.”

You parted him a dry look before tapping the sofa just enough that he was pleased.

“Better.”

“Good, better, best.” You said for no apparent reason and stood. Dusting yourself off, you threw a thumb at the door. “Might go wallow alone now if that’s alright. You go back to your reading.”

Still sitting with his knees perfectly tucked under him, you watched a bit of sadness flicker over his features.

“It’s fine, it’s fine.” You brushed him off airily and moved to the door. “The sun’ll do me good.”

You heard the soft sound of him following and you slowed by the door. Waiting until he got close, you did a slow turn to gauge if you’d have to further fend him off.

Instead you found him resigned, with a comfortable smile playing on his lips.

“I’ll come get you later.”

Soothed, you gave a single happy nod.

Gaze softening, he leaned forward and just barely pressed his lips to your hairline.

You’d meant to let your eyes drift shut, but they just barely hadn’t made it when he completed the move and pulled back. The sensation was not enough and you watched him, up close, with the usual stirring in your belly. It was the feeling you often had of wanting nothing more than to curl up beside him. Squashing it down to your gaze alone, you reached back to palm the door knob and offered a sign off. “Don’t get too lost in reading, my daring literary adventurer.”

He liked the tagline and was leaning forward before either of you registered.

Muscle memory and lips pressed, you squeezed the door handle in time to keep from deepening the move. He had other plans as he chased you to a certain degree. Sensing his body would only allow him so far, you obliged with a massage that parted your lips. He drank you in, just shy of licking into you when you felt a thin edge, not dissimilar to his plastron, press to your chest. Knowing it to be different, you broke free to find his book acting as a barrier.

Giving a puff of laughter at it, you turned mirth up to him. “I’m sensing you’re at odds with yourself.”

His eyes were cast down where he was reviewing the book with a certain amount of frustration. “So it seems.”

“I’m trying to remove myself from the equation.” You reminded him with a lazy smile.

The downturn of his lips said he didn’t like that.

You finally released the knob to face him and leaned back against the door. “Options.”

“Stay trapped in dichotomy or respite in the form of a temporary split.”

“Seems like one makes more sense.” You tilted your head and waited.

He gave the faintest growl as he looked away.

Watching him and imagining that sound coming above you in an unholy manner, you shook your head to rid the thoughts.

You were just as bad.

Settling found him watching you with open curiosity. “You have an alternative.”

“My brain needs to be washed out with soap.” You rolled your eyes. “It’s spewing pure filth.”

“Do tell?” He gave a single, second long rolling purr before he leaned a little closer with the book once again appearing between you.

“Hot and heavy.” You shrugged, reaching out a finger to push against the cover.

“It occurs to me we’ve never expressly explored your fantasies.”

Your shoulders jolted with a bob of laughter. “I’ve asked for stuff.”

“Heat of the moment.” You watched his fingers retract behind the cover as the book inched closer to you. “Pales in comparison.”

“Don’t put me on the spot.” You giggled.

“Then you weren’t just imagining some scenario?” Only mere inches were separating your chest from a wealth of knowledge.

“Nothing that hasn’t been done before.” You smiled along with your honesty.

Donnie made a noise of little interest as he studied you.

“The usual.” A hard cover lightly pressed to your sternum. “You good and deep, possessively over me and doing your best to melt our bodies into one.”

“Ah.” His jaw hung open and the heat of his breath cascading over your face making your lashes flutter.

Rapidly become wedged on a shelf, you gave your own exhale to carve out a bit of freedom. “I should get going; hot and all.”

“Yes…” His lips only closed enough to enunciate. “Oppressive air.”

“Mhm.” You were staring so intently at his mouth that it’s arrival seemed willed.

Kissing with only the novel keeping you apart, your head pressed back into the door with hungry force. Head tilting to better meet him, the rotation brushed your cheek to his. The near instant effect came with an involuntary twitch that you felt through your lips. With nowhere to go you gave a note of exasperation that caused him to reluctantly pull back.

“Don.”

“Yes?” Breathy puffs ran over you as he waited.

“It’s too much. Let’s stop.”

He gave a traitorous grunt.

“Don, look” Pushing with your chest, he immediately retreated for threat you’d overtake the barrier. “See?”

Another irritated sound rumbled in his throat and his face held all the displeasure of a scolded toddler who’s toy had been taken.

You watched as he tried to search for some solution.

In a childlike torment, you imagined his coveted artifact had been placed just out of reach.

Unhappy, but given no option, he chose to sulk.

The metaphorical time out clock set, he’d have his privileges restored eventually.

He’d just have to wait.

“Or…”

He perked up at the sound of your voice.

It had been awhile since your mouth betrayed you. “Uh… I don’t know…”

His gaze narrowed. “No, you had something.”

“There’d be some inevitable contact. It wouldn’t work.”

“Try.”

You chewed your lip and found his immobility on the matter. Sighing, you translated hopelessness through your gaze as you spoke, “Scissoring.”

Instead of shooting it down as you imagined, he even moved to bypass your second guess of thinking it over. “Explain."

“Scissoring?” You knew that was wrong, but you had to make sure.

His lids lowered and his brows rose.

“I don’t know!” You pursed your lips.

“Y/N.”

“I just-!” You bit down on the complaint and groaned with a little toss of your head. Coming down you took a breath to calm yourself before looking him right in the eyes. “I feel like we could finagle it so we’d just be rubbing our…” You drifted off, suddenly unsure of comparing your sexes.

With a slight narrowing, you thought he might offer a word for it, but he instead shot his gaze off to the side in a studious manner.

You stumbled after him. “We’d need leverage, but I have an idea for that. I can’t guarantee we wouldn’t bump legs or something else in the heat of it though.”

His pupils darted as he made some kind of calculation.

“That’s also assuming you were up for sex too…” You mumbled in case that was his hang up.

He stopped with a prominent blink and whipped around to look at you. “Show me.”

Your back strengthened. “Not…?”

“Explain? No.” There was something lit in his gaze. “You cited an understanding of my situation.”

“Trust.” You parroted back the way he’d said the word a few times.

He gave a proud smile. “And intrigue.”

“Intrigue?” You wondered as you slid along the wall to get past him even though you still had a good amount of space.

“Not your fantasy per say, but allowing your full direction opens the chance for you to exert.” He had no judgment for your display and instead looked very much like a bright eyed student with his book pressed securely to his chest with one folded arm. “Giving myself over to you has an exhilarating quality as well.”

Turning in time as the thought rotated, you led the charge to the bedroom and pondered on how you liked to be his. The times you’d domineered had gone over well, but you hadn’t thought of it as a mainstay. Wondering why that couldn’t be a norm of its own, you approached the bed. “How clean is the floor?”

Donnie’s voice appeared beside you along with a weighty aura of fascination. “I loose a cleaning bot weekdays.”

Resisting the urge to glance at him, you set your jaw. “We need the bed out of the way.”

“Where?” He was quickly becoming engrossed by the unknown.

“Anywhere that frees up B.E.D.F.A.S.T.” You took a step towards your night stand and began to move it yourself.

As soon as your object was over by the closet, you turned your attention back to find the bed had silently transported itself over to the partition. In its place Donnie stood and examined the ground with the air of a dog swishing its tail.

“Need another pass?” You wondered, stepping close with your eyes glued to his ass in case his actual tail did wag.

You hadn’t seen that since his heat.

He turned to catch your eye line.

You met his gaze without remorse.

His smile brightened. “What next?”

“You’ll need to set that aside for the time being.” You flicked your gaze to his book.

It was almost startling how easily he moved to set the tome aside.

Especially after he hadn’t been able to put it down before.

His priorities were showing clearly.

“Now strip.” You ordered and loosened your posture to watch.

He failed to curtail his excitement as he reached behind his head. Catching the back of his black t-shirt, he pulled the tight piece of fabric off with little resistance and an elongation of his torso. Tossing the top aside, he then skimmed down his body and along his pant’s hem. As if looking for just the right spot, he hooked his thumbs first at his sides. He then maintained heady eye contact as he leaned forward to slide the cotton off his hips. With absurd precision, he then stepped out of one leg before folding the other back to pull himself free with a flick of his wrist. “More?”

“Need the wraps?”

He seemed to think it over before giving a single nod that said he could be persuaded otherwise.

“Wraps and mask stay on.” You quoted from long ago.

He had a fond look to him as he waited with his weight on one hip.

“Ground.” You moved forward.

He lowered in time until he was on his knees before you.

“Such a good boy.” You gave a sultry coo.

His lips parted with a set of rapid blinks that reminded you of his yet explored praise kink.

Wanting to straddle the line between that and your current course, you offered a middleman, “We’ll see just how good you can be at following orders.”

He gave a nod and you could just sense the way his heart was thudding out of his chest.

“To the wall.” You stepped forward with threatening encouragement.

Backing away, you directed him with steps that you imagined mimicked a sheep dog nipping at a farm animal's heels.

It ended with his carapace pressed against the space just below B.E.D.F.A.S.T.

You gave him a half grin before looking at the device. “Darling Protocol, activate B.E.D.F.A.S.T.”

Its four arms sprouted and sat at the ready.

“You better not interfere.”

“I won’t.” You watched as he visibly broke his heated character to add, “You can override that.”

You dropped your own façade. “Thanks.”

He nodded and you watched his eyes laden with that anticipatory desire.

“B.E.D.F.A.S.T. temporarily disengage from the neural link.” You flicked your gaze to the upper corner of your vision and added, “Also the commands are too wordy. You’ll respond on my ‘mark,’ literally. Lift your top right arm if you understand.

The machine lay dormant.

You gave Donnie a cheeky look. “Someone’s good at Simon Says.”

You earned a grin that showed a bit of his teeth.

“Mark, top right arm up.”

B.E.D.F.A.S.T. followed the command.

“Perfect.” You sauntered forward but kept your eyes trained on the panel. “I wonder what brillant creature must have programmed you.”

The faintest chirp came from your partner.

“What was that?” You were slow in kneeling down. In a curve, you tucked your knees off to one side and leaned over him. “Trying to take credit?”

“No.” The response was faint.

“Look at you.” You tilted your head. “So pretty for me. So obedient.”

His head tipped back as if to give his mouth room for a response, but he crushed it to give a shaky inhale.

“Nothing?” You tipped the other way. “Shame. I was going to reward you.”

His eyes widened at his mistake.

“I wanted to hear those adorable noises.” You reached out slowly to telegraph a touch.

He flicked a wary eye from your hand to your face until he reassured himself.

Whether he knew it or not, he’d already signaled what on him was approved. Curling your digits, you positioned it so your thumb was extended. You then just barely stamped it into the dead center of his lips. “The ones you hold back.”

A careful chirp emerged from him.

“Mhm. Think you can let those out for me?” In a gentle back and forth you traced the plump of his lip.

He pressed a kiss to your thumb before speaking in a way that said this was outside the act. “Only some.”

You wondered which were off limits, but gave a nod as you retracted your hand. “Curious about your reward?”

“Very much so.”

Lifting up, you swiped a hand over the top of your head. “You can pick what comes off first.”

“Top.” He spoke without a moment of hesitation.

“Eager.” You quirked a brow and toyed with your collar.

“Longing.”

“What about build up?” You gave a little tug.

“I’ve waited a lifetime for you.”

Caught off guard, you covered up your flush by whipping your shirt off without the craft you’d hoped to achieve. Unable to meet his eye, you then tossed the fabric into his face.

He was still before you heard him inhale deeply.

“Hey!” You pinched a bit of fabric and lifted it off. “No one said you could do that.”

“Was that prohibited?” His question held little wonder.

“Maybe I’ll leave you here and go make a snack.” You huffed, using your reclaimed shirt as a makeshift cover for your body.

For a split second he grappled with some type of response before going with, “That would be up to you.”

You hummed before relenting. “From now on, no loopholes. You can only do as you’re told.”

He leaned his head against the wall. “Understood.”

“Scoot your ass forward.” You threw your shirt by the wayside and beckoned him.

His hips slid forward while his upper carapace stayed to the wall.

Watching him carve out a scalene triangle of space, you smiled. “Spread for me. Let me see that gorgeous tail of yours.”

From where his legs were tossed comfortably to the side, he gathered them up and then split. Thighs rippling around the move, he had to lift up and adjust so his tail was on prominent display.

You knelt down and signaled a break in character by opening up your features. “Plastron?”

“I could stand some slight contact. It’s dulled.”

You nodded and dropped to your knees to crawl up between his legs.

His throat gave a little titter.

“That’s not the only thing you’ve been holding back.” You flicked your gaze to the column of his neck before returning to his face.

He raised a curious brow.

“Something-” You reached out with a single flighty digit with a swirling pattern until just the tip touched the center line between his pectoral scutes. “-further-“ You dragged your finger down, keenly aware of its weight. “-down.” Hitting the bottom you flicked your finger into a curl as if wiping something up.

He did the slightest squirm that you translated as need.

As of yet dry there, you saw what had to be a phantom wiggle of his tail. “Don’t I make you happy?”

He gave a single irritated exhale.

Giving into a laugh, you brought it up to him. “I’m going somewhere.”

“Immersion breaking.” His features held open disdain. “Nonsense.”

“Let me finish!” You giggle and leaned up. Needing stability, you then pressed a palm flat to the wall beside his head before craning into him for a kiss.

He returned it in a way where you could feel his tension unwind.

“I’m gonna have to rephrase, huh?” You mumbled against his lips.

“Absolutely.”

You had to push off to get back into position and do a roll to reclaim your character. With a dip of your lids, you found it and gave him a heated look. “I know for a fact that this’ll wag.” Without looking you tossed your index finger over to point at his tail. “I was just notified that it’s not my fault, so why are you holding back?”

As if caught, you watched him give the faintest jolt.

“I repeat my earlier question.”

You watched his lips purse for a moment and you just knew he had a complaint about loopholes.

“Touch yourself, no insertion, and don’t you dare drop.”

The mix of commands set his irritation aside and he reached wide over his body to his slit. With some more minor adjustments so his core was better exposed, he slid one of his fingers across the length of it. Coming along the seam to trace, he began to repeat the journey languidly.

Satisfied, you gave him an approving flick of your gaze before retreating.

He watched curiously as he continued to stroke himself.

In a few dancing steps, you turned your back to him and did an arm curling swipe over the back of your head. Rustling your hair, you let your fingers brush your neck as you arched into the action. Rolling your head earned you a crack and your arms came down a metered length of your sides. Sliding your hands around your ribs, you traced your bra’s band before finding the clasp. Undoing it in one blessed move, you shimmied the item off and held it out with an extended digit. Listening close you heard a little breath and swallow from your partner before you tossed the thing aside.

Moving on in the strip tease, you widened your stance and rotated your hips. It earned you the faintest squeak as you traced your own waistband. Having been lazing in something light but with enough coverage to go out in, you bunched some of the fabric before leaning forward. Presenting your ass, you then slowly rocked your hips back and forth as the fabric trended down. Breaking free from your thighs, you then dropped into a sudden squat. Having hooked your thumbs, you managed to free the fabric from your calves. Caught now in what was sure to be awkward, you conjured up a distraction by shaking your ass while you managed a mostly dignified freeing of your bottoms. Kicking them away with a swipe of your foot, you turned your head enough to give him a profile. “How are you doing back there?”

“Fi-” A chirp caught in his throat and he had to swallow it to try again. “Fine.”

“Happy?”

“Very.”

“Oh?”

“Happier if you were over here.”

“Enough to wag?” You moved one of your arms to block your chest as you rotated only enough to see him.

He gave a flat sort of noise.

“Not very.” You pouted and began to step away.

You heard the faintest noise of alarm before his voice rushed to him. “It’s not so simple.”

It was an honest answer. “How’s that?” You turned to him, forgetting the play.

His gaze didn’t falter from your face. “It would have to overtake me. A difficult set of circumstances.”

You turned the sentence over as you headed towards him. “Is it a weakness thing?”

“An open reflection of your emotions?” It wasn’t even quite sarcasm that had his tone dry.

You nodded in time as you knelt before him. “Guess I was just thinking that the sounds have come easier for you so your tail might be the same?”

His lips thinned out.

“You did say ‘only some’ though.” Sitting on your legs reminded you that you were clad only in your underwear. “You care so much, it’s hard to believe…”

“I’m still holding back.” He agreed and his gaze dropped to the floor.

Tracking it you found his fingers had slowed, but he was still attempting to follow your command. With little comedy you reached out, just shy of touching him to signal a stop.

His finger came away only enough for the back of his hand to rest on his thigh.

“Is it…?”

“Not you. Never you.” He gave a weary sigh.

Moving your lower jaw left and right you came up with enough attention that it pulled his. “Let’s just drop that part. Do you want to keep going?”

In the short time you’d left him to think, he’d gotten hung up on something else. Brows down in rapt attention with wood grain. You felt the need to wait.

It was long enough that you had to reposition your legs as they had fallen asleep.

“If-” He caught the syllable as if he hadn’t meant to release it. He then did some mental readjustments before looking at you. “I believe if given the right mindset it could be elicited.”

You straightened.

“Not a challenge.”

“Organic.”

He blinked with surprise and then again with appreciation. “Yes.”

“Yes?” Mounting excitement got you lifting up.

He gave a little smile. “Don’t-“

“Get too excited. Hush.” With another, much louder, hand slamming to the wall you knocked his head back similarly as you kissed him.

He puffed a laugh that broke your lip lock so you silenced it with your tongue. Hovering over him, he had no recourse and melted beneath you as you licked into him. His tongue rallied and you forced it to retreat until a heady sound erupted in his throat. Pulling back found him momentarily drunk before he regained himself in a flutter of his lids.

“Where were we?” You removed yourself from him and he made a several inch effort to chase you before you were too far. You gave a few feet of space before mimicking his pose. Cotton covering your center, you watched his focus wane as he looked over you.

“I have been waiting for the next command.”

“How’d you do?” You demonstrated how he’d stroked himself against your own underwear.

With his two fingers he split himself open.

The shameless display had your stomach doing flips.

Not soaked, but beads of desire had just started threading which marked him at a titillated stage.

“Good start.” You gave a weighty breath.

He seemed to like it until you cut him off.

“But-”

There was an indignity as he took an inhale.

“Could be better.” You traced your sex through dry cotton. “A wager.”

He quirked a brow.

“Whoever drools first gets to finger the other.”

“You have an advantage.”

“Worried?” You pressed a little harder creating an outline.

His pupil waged war trying to get to his periphery. “Is my speech limited?”

“You gonna chat me up?”

“Allow me to.”

“Try.”

“Ready?”

“Mirror me.”

“Done.” Starting just below your clit you swiped down the fabric and he similarly traced his slit. Working friction through fabric, you teased yourself as he did the same. “Figured you’d start.”

“Anticipation.” His lips twitched against a smile.

“Whatever shall I do?” You faked a groan and pressed your entrance.

Following suit, he kept just shy of breaching himself.

Unlike yours, his thick digit’s press gave you a hint of the sensitive pink skin within. Wanting to see him go deeper you pushed where cotton refused to relent.

For him it meant only a few centimeters.

Stroking with the same pressure, you narrowed in the zipper like parting of his slit.

“It’s hot.”

Goosebumps rippled your arms and you only scarcely heard him as the mirroring struck you. Touching yourself was like puppeteering him. It meant that the aching pressure you were feeling was similarly stewing in his own core. Each touch or lack thereof was fully under your control and you relished it. Entranced, you nimbly sent your pinky aside to toy with your hem.

For him it translated in his second finger pressing plush jade skin. “Hotter than the room.”

It took a few flicks for you to catch fabric before you yanked it just shy of revealing you.

With a massage, he pressed one side of his slit to the other and you could almost see his slick. “My skin, inside. Boiling.”

Shoving the gusset aside, your hips rocked against greedy fingers.

His hips splayed further as he breached himself. “There’s a differential perspective.”

You pressed your entrance with your middle finger.

As he did the same, his second digit mistakenly dragged to open him up a bit more. “Your skin would be downright chilled if you got your tongue on me.”

You shuddered and tested the tight ring of flesh.

He followed in perfect time. “Tongue probing. Waiting for that give.”

You gave a shallow pump as moisture meant each press went a millimeter further.

“And when it does.”

Your finger slipped straight to the first joint.

He gave a gruff chirp. “Molten core. All desire.”

You pulled out only to shove it back in.

“Licking in, catching as much of your desire as possible.”

Reaching the knuckle, you probed your depth, searching for his glans.

When you found it, his exhale came out as a stutter. “Each sound pulled, yours. That grip on shifting to the ass. Squeezing and giving stability to taste the very essence.”

Pulling out, you spread your slick to your other digits before adding a second on the next plunge.

For his finger’s girth, it spread him out and his eyes closed with force. “The unraveling comes with preclusion. Tight and burning, as it might consume you.”

Fucking yourself in earnest, there were two squelching echoes.

“It’s a heat you can’t help but chase.”

A little cry came off your lips as you bucked.

He did his own with a flesh of teeth as he presumably jammed his cock. “It’s so close, not that you can taste it. You are. It’s leaking down your face. Smeared existence trying to eat you all the same.”

You watched the first drip of his stringy slick slide down his slit and you were in motion.

Scrambling over to him, he couldn’t get his own fingers out before you joined them with your two. “Mark, bottom right form a safety bar!”

B.E.D.F.A.S.T. animated and its lower arm folded to double up. It then extended out and you latched onto it with your free hand. It gave you leverage to press your conjoined hands deep into him.

He cried out.

“Can you come like this?” With a pull you were over him, puffing hot air across his cheek.

His head shifted, but it was more of a writhe as you pulled his fingers out with yours before jamming them right back in.

“No dropping, just like this.”

His head gave a violent shake and his parted teeth revealed a gasp.

He didn’t know. “You can though. You’re so good for me. You do so much for me. Unravel for me. Please, Donnie. Please, can you do that for me? Cum so good?”

A squeak started up and wrangled out in a higher pitch than you ever heard from him.

“Go on.” The in and out sounded like a sinful stir of a decadent pot. “I want to watch you fall apart. Let go, let go.”

“I-it’s-” He choked on a near sob that dotted the corners of his eyes.

“It’s so thick?” You were almost kissing his tympanum. “Like you, my dearest? How you fill me up and spread me? How you’ve ruined me for anyone else? How I can only ever imagine getting off to you?”

You could hear the crack in his jaw as it shoved open around a sharp and loud squeak.

“This is you.” Having added all four of your primary fingers, you shoved them with his two as far as you could, feeling his body try to stretch to accommodate. “Fucking me. Making me yours. I’m yours. You’re-”

“Mine!” He screamed and you felt his whole insides shift. Instead of a rolling milking that you were accustomed too, his muscle contracted into a single tightness and what pulsed was a primary source within. His body shook around you and his head slammed back into the wall showcasing all his teeth in a similar clench. The flood reached its barrier and his cum burned your digits as it rushed the door. Resisting it as he was plugged up, you let him drown himself as strangle chirps and peeps emanated from him and he squirmed from the stuffed sensation.

“To the brim.” You whispered to him as his muscles began to loosen.

With a slight twitch that had him nearly convulsing, you broke the stiffness in your hand to retract.

His cum leaked immediately and his head rolled from its point against the wall.

“Incredible.” You moved to kiss lips that could not reciprocate. “I’m so proud of you.”

He tried to make a noise, but none came.

“Really, Don. I’m so insanely proud of you.” You leaned off the tease to enforce your honesty.

It cracked one of his lids.

“Letting go for me. Being so perfect. I can’t stand it. It means so much; you mean so much.” You smiled at him and it surfaced his other eye. “To me.”

His lips moved with a silent plea.

“What was that?” You turned your head to offer him your ear. “Deliciously ruined, you gotta find your voice. Go ahead.”

“On me.” He managed the smallest whisper.

“Hm?” You looked him over to make sure you weren’t touching him. You still had the bar and couldn’t feel any point of contact. “Need me to clean you up?”

“Need you on me.” He gasped and cleared his throat.

“Oh. Oh.” Letting go of B.E.D.F.A.S.T., you backed up. “Look at you.”

“Please.” With a squeeze of his features and a lick of his lips, an outpour began. “Need you. Need to feel you. Need you. Need you against me. On me. Need-”

“But still not direct touch?”

He nodded miserably , his eyes screwed shut with more pleas dripping off his lips.

You let him go on as you tugged your underwear off. Standing long enough to get out of them, you threw them along the floor before dropping right back between his slack legs. Semen pooled on the floor and you traced it to him where his body coiled at the touch. “You got good and soaked for me.”

“Please!”

You reassuringly hushed him and did as much leg math as you could in only a few seconds. “Mark!”

B.E.D.F.A.S.T. whirled to life.

“This knee up.” You nodded to Donnie’s right.

With a clicking groan he hiked the leg up.

“The other down, ease your prosthetic.”

He gave a faint nod and let that one extend.

“Mark, my right ankle, into the air. Don’t touch Donnie.”

One of B.E.D.F.A.S.T.’s arms extended and seemed to scan over your bodies. It then formed its cuff attachment which locked around your ankle as soon as it located it. Secured, your leg lifted and you were pulled all the closer to your partner who gave a needy squeak.

“Soon, so soon. I’m right here.” Gnawing your lower lip, you then began the careful process of threading your leg through the tent he’d created with his lifted knee. Thankful for his size, you were just able to get it through before your sexes pulled up close to one another. “Mark, I need a pole over here. Leverage!”

Reaching out a hand to Donnie’s right side, B.E.D.F.A.S.T. did some reconfiguration before it dropped a sturdy line that seemed to suction to the floor. You grabbed hold and with the slightest tug to test its strength, your ass slid on the loose cum and your slit pressed to his.

“Ah!” Donnie called out a vowel, taxed with oversensitivity.

“You okay, my dear?”

He could only give a rapid nod which bumped your sexes together.

You gave similar mewls as you switched your grip on the pole. In any other situation, you would have used his knee for leverage, but right now you were overly proud of yourself for managing this position with his aversion. With a pull, you ground against him and found nothing but a smooth glide. “So wet!”

He rolled his hips against yours.

You chased him roughly and his tail slid, wet, between your ass cheeks.

A slap echoed, but you couldn’t really stop.

Looking up, you found he’d thrown his arms back and the sound had been his hands hitting the floor for stability.

“So good.” You murmured and squirmed so his slit’s lips spread yours. “So soaked with seed. With slick. You’re amazing.”

“Y/N!” He croaked.

“Good, good, faster. Come on.” You pulled so hard you could feel the silicone coating B.E.D.F.A.S.T. squish between your fingers.

Donnie moaned loud and bucked up against you.

Friction cementing you both together, each rub slid lips with partings, but not enough traction. “Mark! Tighter! Higher!”

B.E.D.F.A.S.T. yanked your leg and your pelvises crushed flush.

“Fuck!”

“More!”

Nearly feeling bones, you cried out as a shift encompassed your clit. Donnie chased the sound and you dug your nails into B.E.D.F.A.S.T. at the thought that he could still be that coherent amongst all this.

Orgasm winding, a side to side spread you both and you pressed there for its intriguing stickiness.

What felt good for you, was dialed up entirely for Donnie because he snarled and snapped at you.

You shuddered where you were still pressed, gawking at him through a veneer.

“I c-can’t-!” Teeth barred and drool leaked through the clench.

“C-can’t what-?” You continued your ministration and a feral growl ripped through your ears.

“I-!!!” The sound burned before something else did.

Like a knife plunged, his cock dropped straight into you. Screaming at the sudden split, your hand slipped and it took the last of your senses to keep it from smacking Donnie’s leg.

Unable to stop as he warned, he pulled out halfway only to skewer you again.

The pain pleasure index spun uselessly as a buck had you skidding away from him on the many floor dripping. Latching onto the bar, you shoved back against it, earning your own scream as he bottomed out for a third time. Folds bitten in the transaction, you are forced to grind him deeper to free them. His spread pressed to what had to be your cervix and you nearly sobbed against the pressure. Chasing it in his own way, he rubbed which caused your jaw to hang open on a creaky hinge.

Eyes rolling back, you came before you realized it had built that far. Not milking but wringing him out, you could tell your squeezes were lethal. The sounds emitted from him showed his own mixture of excitement before one of your last clamps sent him over a second time. Having basically ignoring his refractory period, what spurted out paled in comparison to his usual load. Its forced depth made up for any lacking and molten seed burned your lower belly so thoroughly that your grip gave out.

The fall happened in slow motion as he and then B.E.D.F.A.S.T. wafted by your vision. The ceiling came next as an omnipresent white and your back slapped the ground. The sound gave you enough coherence to steel your neck and prevent a knock that would have rattled your brain. Shook out regardless, you laid in your collapse as Donnie chirped a worried note.

“I’m…” You slurred, tongue heavy like his cock. “… okay…!”

He gave a grunt and you felt something land just below your knee.

“I’m good.” You forced a little clearer.

Another puff of air and the weight turned into pinching fingers.

“Don?” Not wanting to raise your head, you stewed.

“Need.” His voice was warped as he pawed at you.

He was touching you.

That couldn’t be right.

“M-more?” Your gaze landed on your chest as you tried to catch sweaty palms for enough traction on the floor. “You’re good, but that may be… too good.” Exchanging hands for elbows, you got something under you enough to lift and glimpse him.

Drool strained the corner of his jaw and his other hand groped the air in what seemed like the B.E.D.F.A.S.T. arm supporting your leg.

“What are you…?”

“Up.” The hand on your leg reached out.

Brain sizzling from your orgasm, you slipped your fingers into his.

With a yank, he had you upright and it was then you realized he was still hard to a degree.

“How?” Your voice was gravel.

Releasing you as prolonged touch stung, he shook his head and finally got a good grip on B.E.D.F.A.S.T.

You watched as he tugged the arm, uselessly.

“I have control.” You reminded him as every single movement pressed your conjoined centers back together.

“Let it-” His voice shattered.

“My leg’ll fall on you.”

He shook his head, unable to clear either his throat or head.

“Let’s take a second.”

“Kiss me.” He tried anew, pleading with his gaze.

“Only if you take that second.”

He agreed with a curt nod.

Grabbing the B.E.D.F.A.S.T. pole, you yanked yourself up to meet his lips. Weak, you succumbed to him as he kissed you with an odd desperation. Unable to place it, the massage bumped his cock inside you and the sensitivity bordered on too much. Breaking the lip lock to translate that, he turned his head.

“Cheek.”

“Kiss?” You asked, still stuffed with cum and cotton.

He gave a nod before presenting his face again.

Laughing, you kissed on command and felt that touch averse tension. “Donnie…” You warned, lips still against him.

“Need it, please.”

“Still at odds with yourself? I thought we’d made progress…” You wondered and planted another on him.

Turning his head in increments, he led you down his jaw where you marked him with kisses. Each one was an obvious raw rub against his nerves, but he seemed keen on you continuing.

He’d been good enough to earn that so you relented and followed along until you neared his neck.

“Need control.”

“Of B.E.D.F.A.S.T.?” You felt him tug at the arm attached to your leg again.

“Please.” His cock bobbed within you.

He’d calmed down a little in all, but one glaring way. “B.E.D.F.A.S.T., restore neural link.”

No sound triggered, but the machine immediately began to move. It started at your ankle where, with crawling construction, it moved the cuff in a new build a few inches higher each time. It created a crawling sensation that made you shiver until it reached the thick of your thigh. An extension then appeared as support behind your back and the pole in your hand slipped through your fingers. Without leverage, you fell Donnie until B.E.D.F.A.S.T. revved to save the day.

Unfolding into an arm, the attachment that was once a pole shot forward to create a new cuff around your other thigh. Saving you from contact, your hips were split apart by the new configuration. The bit supporting your spine moved downward until it and the cuffs became a mimic for what felt like Donnie’s hands. They gripped the swell of your ass and lifted you incrementally off his cock while coaxing your legs forward. It sent your toes grazing against the ground and the whole of you doing a floating straddle around him.

“What…?”

“Lower.” He wrangled the sound. “Go.”

“Donnie…” You branded his name against his pulse with reluctant kisses.

Each one sear him like a red hot poker.

“We should stop…” You urged, nearing the joint connecting his neck to his shoulder.

With B.E.D.F.A.S.T. involved, he used his newfound control to buck up into you as a translation of his desire.

You gave a weakened cry as it stirred you towards pleasure.

He was being oddly frustrating, but only towards himself.

Frowning that into the start of his clavicle, you kissed along it with presses that you hoped showed your irritation.

Instead, his wraps appeared a looming dark wall in your periphery as his head lolled the other way until it was flat with his shoulder.

Curious at the move, you lifted up as you realized you were also no longer being led. Having been given a moment, you examined the whole of him to find he was presenting his shoulder to you in a full display. Confused, you looked at him, but his face was tucked away as if ready for something. Not sure what that was, you studied his skin for any sort of clue. The only thing you could come up with was this was the shoulder you had once tried repeatedly to mark. The opposite one to your mating mark, it almost seemed like he wanted you to try again.

Knowing that biting was a step further than touch had you waffling. The latter was clearly off the table and you parted your lips to express that. A sound emerged there that was not your own. Gaze flying to your partner, you found Donnie was belting a strangled noise of desperation. Staring him down, you waited until it subsided and he brought his head up a little. Unable to look you in the eye, his eyes narrowed with pain until it was too much and he screwed them shut. Watching the build up, you saw his chest expand with a deep breath before he gave that honed chirp you hadn’t heard since his heat.

I was unmistakable.

It shot straight through your brainstem.

The rare jewel of sounds, your teeth sank into his skin before you realized what was happening. He gave it again and you bit down harder. As if calling out to some primal part of you, he made it again and again as you tore into his flesh. Nearly maddened, blood tinged your tongue with a near repulsive heat as your jaw nearly locked down with the force. He was still giving that sound and you felt distant from your body as your teeth clanged against chorded sinew. With a grind you ripped into it and he broke his mantra in favor of a yowl.

Body unknowingly tense, your fingers hooked the upper lip of his plastron and yanked him to you. It plunged his cock deeper as you bit over and over until your jaw locked. A growl emerged from somewhere untapped and your digits dipped until your nails cut little half moons into the point where his skin melded against his shell. If he was still chirping, you could no longer tell. All you could hear was the rush of your blood which felt very much like the one gushing under your lips. Hot fury as opposed to cold machinery, you felt a tridactyl hand catch your hips and force you straight down his cock through B.E.D.F.A.S.T.’s hold. Encompassing his knot, it ripped your mouth off of him at almost the exact moment he came.

You gave a meek cry in comparison to the thick seed painting your insides.

B.E.D.F.A.S.T. released and everything moved. Your body slotted against Donnie’s in a race for the ground. Fall cushioned, his lips smothered yours and his tongue lapped at blood soak. Whimpering against the barrage, he swept up the evidence before he moved for a slower reprieve. Legs bobbing, you encircled him to show your appreciation and he gave one last honed chirp right down your throat. As something that already pierced your very being, this one branded your innard and locked your legs in a way that slid your heels slipped past his back. A motion found your skin there where his tail whacked against your foot in a rhythmic beat that gave you the strength to kiss him back with new fervor.

Lost to the makeout, you broke only for an orgasm to unexpectedly tear through you. The second of the night, you cried beneath him, tears streaking your face which he kissed away. Going slack felt like falling straight off the Earth and into the ether. Encased in pleasant nothingness, you faintly registered him pulling out because piping hot seed ran down your ass. It meant you were still on your back until you were picked up. Skin rolled around you like a jade sea and then your knees hit what had to be a towel. The fibers rough against what had to be your dried out body, the tap rushed water with a speed that said it was the tub.

You shook your head and you heard a withered laugh. “Quick wash up.”

You groaned and leaned forward where you figured porcelain was. You found the cold surface of the tub and absorbed its power until you had garnered enough to open your eyes. Donnie looked as wrecked as you as he tested the water.

Finding it agreeable, he turned an expectant gaze to you.

“I got it…” You grumbled, catching the lip of the tub on the second try.

He hovered close as you hoisted yourself in. Thinking if you sat, you’d never get back up, you instead kneeled and water lapped at your knees. You frothed a passed loofah with soap and scrubbed over your body with far too many suds. Donnie used a cup to help rinse you off before you finally pushed to fully stand on your feet. Wobbly, a towel came around you and you welcomed it.

Unable to hold you, Donnie directed you to the toilet seat. Winding up the fabric to sit there, you faintly caught his touch aversion was still in effect. That meant every moment from when he’d topped you until setting you down in here must have been torturous for him. Feeling bad for the latter half as the first was his choice, you let relief of rest settle in. The linen, though unchanged, felt plush now and you watched him plug the drain. The water filled the tub and he dropped himself into it with minor wincing. It was with his arms flexing as he adjusted his too big body for the too small tub that you caught sight of his shoulder.

Your work tented your spine.

What could only be described as sloppy, you seemed to have never bit the same spot twice. Instead, there were different layers and angles of crescents, all of which sat angry and red against his green skin. The many blood moons forewarned the worst before they dipped out of sight as he submerged his upper body in a move that threw his legs straight out of the tub. Red streaks oozed from the bites and you were forced to turn away with a meter of shame.

When Donnie didn’t surface and instead chose to soak, you eventually managed to get up and out of the bathroom. Hydrating and grabbing a snack, you returned, rejuvenated, to find him dozing. He’d since angled his body sideways for some modicum of comfort, but he looked a bit silly as only bulky legs and his head breached the surface of the bath. He’d kicked off his prosthetic at some point which meant his gams equated to one foot and a stump.

Towel tucked under your armpits, you stared the appendage down before something occurred to you. It meant having to leave, but intrigue got you out and scrounging until you found what you were looking for in the back of your nightstand. Returning found Donnie the exact same way and you knelt down into the towel meant to catch his drippings. Now with a front row seat to his foot, you gave him one last check before setting your found objects down. Reaching out with excessive care, you hoped not to scare him as you grazed the underside of his closest toe.

Your metered brush worked as his lids sprung up before his pupils surfaced.

“This okay?” You pinched a piggy and waited.

He shrugged and you didn’t feel the same twitching you had before.

Enough of a clear, you looked over the part of him that you’d never had a chance to examine. With two toes at the front and a jutting heel, his foot was massive. It made sense with his height and you almost mourned the lost one for what it must have done to his balance.

In a little shift, he angled his body so the back of his knee would catch the tub and pour his far leg over it. It meant his foot dropped to a more manageable level. Sending him a thankful smile, you sat back and leaned against the tub. Tracing his heel, you mapped that no matter the overall shape, it had the same structure as yours. Moving to palm the ball of it, you let your thumb cascade overtop where you found the skin softer also like on your own. Pushed by cleanliness, you pressed a kiss there to seal the texture to your favorite memory banks.

It was something almost plush and you wondered if it had less scaling as you relieved yourself for your intended task. Throwing a look over your shoulder found only a sliver of Donnie watching and you held up a bottle of purple nail polish for him to see.

His brows moved with faint curiosity and you lifted his foot a little to show where you wanted it to go. “Wipe it off if I can’t take the sensation?”

“Course.” You turned and pulled off a few squares of toilet paper from where you could just reach. “You’ll feel it coat the nail though, heads up.”

“Understood.” He mumbled, eyes closing against his will.

Pulling his foot into a better position, you kicked a leg up to set it on your knee. Shaking the bottle, you then readied yourself to paint. Lid free and taking a few stabs at getting enough on the brush, you took your time in calculating a proper swipe. Brushing from cuticle out, you did a clean sweep and mentally patted yourself on the back. Donnie flexed his toes curiously and you patted that soft skin to translate you needed to do more and quickly. He held still as you swiped out the first layer with only minor leakage.

He seemed alright up until you ran a nail along his bed to catch the excess. He jolted there with a slosh of water and scolded you for the feeling. Urging him that it was alright, you got caught in a minor stand-off. Too tired to keep it up, it broke for him to ask you not to do that again. You told him that might not be possible and he compromised that he needed a warning to steel himself. Moving onto the other toe, calm filtered in as he soaked and you painted. With quiet breaks, you took to massaging his arch in between coats. You found he was nothing but knotted tension and though the rub was against his current proclivities, the soothing work on those long forgotten muscles turned him into further goo. With four total coats to get solid coverage against his darkened skin and a massage to go with each minor drying, his foot was completely limp by the end. Capping the bottle, he lifted his leg to examine the work and surely caught the holographic sheen by the way he rotated his ankle.

“Good?” You asked, sleepy and cheek to porcelain. “Good.” He repeated with a sharp satisfaction.

As always, I'm am forever grateful to my betas @tmntxthings and @thepinkpanther83

#weakspotfic #rottmnt #rottmnt donnie x reader #rise of the tmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rottmnt x reader #donatello hamato #donnie x reader #rise donnie #rise donnie x reader #rottmnt donatello #rottmnt donnie #me #fanfiction #my fanfiction

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miguel-ohara-wifey · 2 months

Text

Lincoln Clays nicknames for you Headcanons

Lincoln Clay x Fem!reader

Warning: 18+, violence, mention of the mob (duh), crime, 40’s America racism, swearing, not a native Spanish speaker I’m doing my best, haven’t played the games either but I love this man 💜💜💜

Tag; @himbo-hunter-hadrian thank you for introducing me to this fiiiiiine man 💜

🧨Sparky🧨

You two first came face to face after Lincoln came to your illegal fireworks ring in search of supplies. Ordered by your boss to facilitate the deal between your people and his. The pair of you undressed each other with your eyes under the mural of the starry evening. On the scene of the exchange dwelling in the outskirts of the hollow.

As the aroma of finished rain fall permeated the meeting. Sal’s assassins bullets jumped from behind the bushes to clean everyone present out. Naturally you and Lincoln dispersed the attackers, even as some of your people didn’t make it. Once the dust and firecracker smoke had settled. He charmingly referred to you as sparky, in response to refusing to tell him your real name.

The deal carried on despite the setback, you personally promised to keep him touch with him

🍷Cherie🍷

Months rolled by as your ring aided Lincoln in his crusade against Sal. You agreed to accompany him undercover at a fancy ball. In order to steal some files for Donovan. You posed as husband and wife, so of course he called you his Cherie, you more than didn’t mind. Not to mention it was the fanciest you had seen the scrappy young vet.

You feel muscles tensing under his soft skin as you laid a hand onto his chest. Your finger tips rub against the buttons of his suit. And you shiver as the palm of his hand lands on the small of your back. He instinctively plays with the ends of your hair, and you don’t mind at all. The scenario was tense due to how natural it was. Awkwardness itself evaporated entirely when you two held each other. Every touch now matter how small you both felt over your entire being. It was as natural as breathing, as if you’d walked on phantom limbs your whole lives and finally found your other half.

A reality neither of you were ready to admit just yet, as you switched gears to the true reason you were there. After disguising yourself as the maid and being slurred at by your “boss”. Who clearly believes all hispanic people look alike. Because he didn’t bat an eye at the fact he’s never seen you work there before. Lincoln managed to slip in and out to steal the info he needed regardless.

✨sugar✨

After the victory over Sals brother, Lincoln’s dealings with your ring had found it’s inevitable end. A fact which saddened you; more so you’ll now see him less. Such despondency fell on you even when partying with his people and friends at the progress of deposing Sal. Lincoln had made it further than he could’ve believed and deserved a night of wine, whimsy, and dancing. You couldn’t say no, never to Lincoln.

You two shared a few bottles too many, before you knew it you wound up crushed between Lincoln’s body and his bed. Both of your clothes littering his floor, as his thrusts into you test the foundation of his bed frame. Your drooling mouth mewls as his sweaty body caged yours in midst of his manhood exploring your g spot. Despite his brain moist in alcohol he’s still a gentleman. In between every few minutes asking if you still want this, and if he’s hurting you. You implore him every time he asks not to stop. After god knows how many climaxes he’s subjected both your bodies too, he rolls himself beside you on the mattress.

As he whispers into your ear believing you to be barely conscious after your latest orgasm. His sugar, he then tucks you into himself. Wanting his very muscles to shelter you. You moan in approval, as you cuddle him back.

💜mi amor💜

It took only the paper thin walls of his apartment bedroom that night for everyone to know you’re sweet on each other. What you have isn’t labeled yet but that doesn’t stop him from making breakfast for you. The soreness between your thighs was washed out by the rich smell of his special pancakes in the morning. As Donovan couldn’t look you in the eyes since last he “heard” you.

The sexy, vengeful stoic you’ve come to interact with for most of your time together. Is replaced by a sexy and nurturing teddy bear. He adores using his height to his advantage weather to place something you want on a shelf he can reach but you can’t. Or to arc over you completely as he kisses you silly.

Calling you his amor is personal; he never knew his biological father and mother. An aspect of himself he’s opened to you about before. How his connection to his Dominican heritage is stingy at best, aside from a few Spanish phrases he knows. Mi Amor being one of them. It’s a signal that you’ve seen all of him both mind and body, and he’s not afraid to share that with everyone who hears him call you that

#Lincoln clay #Mafia #Mafia 3 #18+#Lincoln Clay x reader #headcanons #Mafia 3 headcanons #hcs #short and sweet #had to make something for my man #my new man #mmmmm

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hournites · 8 months

Note

for the best friends to lovers prompt- "did that kiss mean anything to you"

hope you are doing well!! i love your writing 🫶🏻

Soundless Spin

“You start.”

Doja Cat blasted through Cindy’s speakers, fancy chandeliers overhead shaking from the noise as Rick eyed the offensive Bud Light in front of him. It pained him that Blue Valley, Nebraska couldn’t shake the 20th century out of its roots–Somehow, even amidst 2020 billboard charts, Jackbox games, and Tiktok trends, the only activity collectively agreed upon tonight was spin the bottle.

“Do I have to?”

“Yes,” said Cindy, already bored at how long he was taking. Why was she facilitating this nonsense–she hates half of the school. That said, Rick also didn’t understand how they scored invites to her party. Or why the girls wanted to go. They might have not been at each other’s throats anymore with the ISA discontinued, but it wasn’t exactly like they were close friends. Since the JSA recovered the true Sylvester’s pickle brain, Rick stopped applying logic in his life when he didn’t need to. Crowded between drunk teens sat in a seance approved circle, everyone waited on Rick to start the game he had assumed was a joke.

“No, you don’t have to,” said Beth reassuringly from across the room, though Rick suspected the second it was her time she’ll nope out. She looked around the group of classmates, sober as a judge. “Please remember that kissing should always be consensual!”

Cindy rolled her eyes. “It's not that serious, Dr. Chapel Jr.” She shrugged in that nonchalant way before she stirred the pot. “Rick might land on Cameron, for all we know.”

Yolanda facepalmed. “We’re supposed to be encouraging Rick, not giving him the ick.”

Cameron shot Yolanda an icy look. She raised a brow in retaliation. “I said what I said.”

Courtney, nestled beside him, placed an ineffective hand on his knee. To Rick, she chanted, “C’mon! Spin, spin, spin, spin!”

Everyone joined in.

“Spin! Spin! Spin!”

“Fine. Fine!” he shouted loud enough to be heard, blowing hot air out of his mouth. “I get it!” He raised both hands in the air to get some of Cindy’s cheerleading friends to stop hollering, their enthusiasm giving him minor concern. “I’m doing it. I’m doing it.”

The empty beer bottle spun tightly around their sitting circle–Rick anticipated disaster, regretting his cave to peer pressure the second his hand lifted away. Anyone but Mahkent. Anyone but Mahkent, he nearly prayed in mounting desperation. It whirled around Yolanda on his right, Becky Sharpe, Cindy and the cheerleaders, tipped past Jenny Williams, slowed by Courtney, and crawled past Cameron until it hesitantly landed on Beth.

Rick jerked his eyes up, meeting her gaze. His heart stopped for, like, a minute. He’d been so caught up in who would be the worst option, he hadn’t had enough time to think what would happen if the bottle landed on one of his friends.

What the hell should I do?

Courtney covered her mouth to hide her giggles. “Wow! Must be fate.”

“Girlie,” Yolanda whisper-mimed, shaking her head and zipping her lips. “Shut up.”

It didn’t matter–Rick easily ignored Courtney cajoling them six ways to Sunday because he couldn’t hear her. The music distorted around them as he tried to pick up on Beth’s cues.

He almost asked her, should I spin again?

Then her lips lifted into a small cheeky smile. Of course, Beth wouldn’t have let herself play if she minded getting a few kisses from this game considering she was the one reminding everyone about consent. And, he came to realize, this would be his first kiss sober. It scratched an itch in his brain to think it would be with Beth. They could laugh it off later.

“Well?” some dude huffed, impatient. “Are you kissing or not?”

Rick cleared his throat. “Beth, are you sure…?”

But she was already making her way towards him, answering his question.

Okay. Welp. We’re doing this.

Instead of shuffling into the middle of the circle like a circus act, Rick let her come to him. Once she was in arm’s reach, he reached forward, hauling Beth into his lap to move her away from a sticky beer spill. It was easier, more comfortable—Less of a spectacle, this way.

“Oof.” She laughed breathlessly as he rearranged their limbs. “Hi there. This is close.”

“Sorry,” he said, embarrassed, ready to shove her off him if she didn’t like it.

Beth touched his hand. “Don’t apologize.” She was right, this was so close. He could count every curly eyelash of hers behind those dark frames. “Did you know this only had a 7% probability of happening?”

Rick inwardly rolled his eyes at her math brain guzzling out computations at a time like this. Why wasn’t she nervous? “I did not. It’ll just be a peck, okay?”

Her brown eyes brightened in the dim party room and she nodded. “Sure!”

Rick cupped her jaw, cautious to be gentle, then tipped her chin up so he could lean down and kiss her.

She was ready for it. She closed her eyes and looped her arms around his neck, meeting his quick peck with another kiss before he could end it. It caught him off guard when Beth let out a tiny sigh.

It felt good. Right. Rick couldn’t pull himself away.

She pushed herself up in his lap and then there was more. Rick’s thumb pressed against her cheek. He hadn’t had anything to drink since they first walked in, but his mind went warm and fuzzy, like that first sip of alcohol down his throat. Everything slowed around them. He didn’t know what they were doing or cared where they were, he just wanted the soft way Beth’s body pretzeled against his, her hand now moving, exploring down his neck to rest over his chest. It wasn’t rushed, or unsure, Beth was taking and he was giving or maybe it was the other way around. She let out another hum, and then there was another long lazy kiss, hypnotic enough for Rick to nearly believe that he had a soul she could’ve kissed out.

“Woah, okay! Ew? Too much.” Jenny W clapped her hands. “Time’s up! Spin again!”

He blinked out of the trance. “What?”

She gave him a shy smile. “That was nice.” Beth slid herself out of his lap seemingly unaffected nor aware of how she had just turned his life upside down.

Nice? That was—Okay. Apparently the most intimate moment in his 18 years was just “nice.” Rick was fucked.

“Yeah,” he croaked out, scared that if he spoke further his voice would crack, the tension between them was still palpable. Say something. You have to say something.

He focused on forming a coherent sentence out of his mouth. They should leave. To do what? He had no idea (yes, he did–her lips, that touch, the perfume on her neck, he needed it memorized). He also needed to process what the hell just happened, and, not surprisingly, Beth was very good at analyzing weird shit that happens to them–but not usually to both of them at the same time.

“You heard me, right? It’s your turn now.” Jenny W thrust the bottle into Beth’s hand, not giving Rick the option to get a word in.

“Oh,” Beth said. “Sorry!”

He watched in stunned silence as she returned to her spot and wordlessly spun again. It landed on a guy from Ms. Woods’ calculus support group and jealousy took a hold of him with an iron fist.

He got up and left, announcing he needed a piss, though the terrible excuse was luckily drowned out by the latest remix. Unable to stomach Beth kissing someone else, the rest of the night blurred like watercolors on a canvas.

Nothing except the bleeding dark pinks of her lips dripped into every corner of his mind, the browns of her soft eyed stare, haunting his sleep. He suffered through the blue phantom-pain of Beth in his lap. The way she moved in it and how boldly he pulled her to him without second-guessing what he was doing.

What was he doing?

~.~

“Assuming the calculations from the goggles are correct, we would have six hours in the pocket dimension.” Beth wrote notes to follow her thinking on the Pit Stop whiteboard with a green marker, her goggles projecting a diagram. “That’s one hour in our dimension, meaning hypothetically your hourglass won’t time out.

“Got it,” Rick agreed without understanding, miserably distracted by the fact this was his first moment alone with Beth since Spin the Bottle. Thick tension returned with a vengeance. He could taste how bad he wanted her to like him. Every time she caught his eye Rick was certain he’d need a fire extinguisher to douse his hot heart within him. He sat on the table, his fingers tapping anxiously against the wood surface, really wanting to kiss her again.

She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head like she didn’t quite believe him. Rightly so. He didn’t believe him, and that posed a risk for the JSA tomorrow. “Any questions, then?”

“I don’t think so.”

Beth folded her arms. “Really?”

“Fine. Yeah. One.”

She looked relieved. “Let’s hear it.” She turned around and wrote QUESTIONS on the board and set out to underline it.

“Did that kiss mean anything to you?”

Beth’s impeccable marker line careened to a crooked left. Slowly, she turned around. “That has nothing to do with our pocket dimension trip.”

“You asked if I had any questions.”

“Yes, you did. Fair enough.” She sighed in a way Rick couldn’t tell was wistful or annoyed. “Our kiss, you mean?”

“Yes, our kiss.” Even calling it a kiss, as he had in his brain the last few days, was very modest. There was not just one kiss. There were several kisses. It was an experience.

“Of course it meant something to me,” she said primly. The marker cap pressed into her inner-palm. “That was my first kiss.”

“That’s it?”

She glanced away, fixating on the antiquated mugshots of Per Degatron’s goonies, finally starting to look as nervous as Rick felt. “What more do you want me to say? It was nice.”

He almost winced—There she went again. It was nice. For a girl with her vocabulary, that wasn’t promising.

“It was a nice kiss,” she continued in his stretched silence, “and I’m glad I had it with you. I didn’t think the bottle would ever land on me, or that I would want to play until they made you go first. I’m pretty sure I went into it wanting to watch.”

He furrowed his brows, trying to read between the lines. If she didn’t want to play unless he went first, then why did she continue with her turn afterwards? She must’ve used him to boost her confidence and practice kissing, not realizing he’d read into it so much. Now Rick felt stupid.

“You’re hurt,” she said. He was about to argue, but there really wasn’t any point. Not when his voice would probably crack as he denied it. He cursed the accuracy of the mood reader still embedded in her goggles. Sensing his lingering wariness at the object above her hair, she took the goggles off and laid them aside. An offering that she wouldn’t leverage her emotional advantages in this conversation. She used the stool to step up onto the table, taking a seat next to him. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to tell you how you feel.”

“It’s okay.”

“It doesn’t have to be okay. Wasn’t it just a game?”

His hand inched closer to hers until their fingers brushed. She leaned against his side. He felt a strange catch in his breath as the warmth of her closeness untied some of the knots in his stomach. Beth was beautiful and sweet, and always bursting with compassion. How could he pretend he wasn’t falling for that? “It was supposed to be.”

She looked up at him.

“But..it wasn’t.” He met her stare and swallowed hard. “It wasn’t for me.” He dragged a hand over his forehead in disbelief he managed to say it out loud. He summoned the strength to keep going. “It wasn’t a game. It wasn’t just nice, it was…I didn’t want it to end. I didn’t want it to stop. I felt like we clicked in that moment and I woke up from sleepwalking through feelings I have for you.”

Beth didn’t say anything, like his confession knocked the wind out of her. “You like me?”

He groaned softly. “It’s embarrassing, I know.”

“No! No, no it’s not,” she objected, squeezing the hand nearest to hers, but Rick didn’t think he could handle her breaking his heart so softly.

“Can you just tell me if I need to get over you?”

“I’m not doing that.” Beth sat up straight. “I called the kiss nice because I didn’t know how else to explain how I felt. I was inexperienced and surprised at myself. I won’t lie, the thought of kissing you excited me, but I thought that was because I trust you, so it would’ve been an easy way to get my first kiss out of the way.”

Rick started to smile, thinking back on what she said. “You calculated that 7% chance.”

“I did, and then that happened. I didn’t know if that’s how kissing always felt like or if it was because it was you. So I kept playing and I had a few more turns after you left, okay, but none of those kisses were like ours. But I knew you hated the game, left right after kissing me, and intended to only give me a peck,” she repeated the last fact with fake quotation marks. “I was the one that got carried away. I was the one that was embarrassed. It was easier if I pretended it didn’t happen so I wouldn’t make things weird.”

It was such a relief to hear her say that they were on the same page. “So what do we do now?”

“Well, first, we need to go over the pocket dimension because I know you were not paying attention, which I thought was because you were feeling uncomfortable but now I think it is because you were staring at my skirt.”

“Holy shit.” Rick scratched behind his neck as heat crawled up his face. This was perilous and exhilarating new ground. He liked Beth and she knew it. He was attracted to her and she could feel it. “Uh, I plead the fifth?”

Beth laughed and flashed him that same flirty grin from the party. “But as for right now?” Rick knew he was either in for trouble or a really, really good time. “I can think of a few ideas.”

She unearthed the green marker from her pocket and gave it a spin.

#stargirl #hn talks #hournite #dctv #ask #hn fic #fluff #rick x beth #I am so glad I can post this because I had that spin the bottle scene in my drafts since 2020 probably

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