#I have not really bothered to formally frame that because I do not really want to deal with Being an Educator

[grison-in-space]

dear friendly office admin: I am aware that yes, when I saw you three hours ago on my way to pee and assemble chambers downstairs, I lied and said Matilda was not with me rather than explain that she is expected to lie quietly in my office until I come back.

I am also aware that coming to show me YOUR small dog as I was packing up and getting ready to leave was probably intended to be a friendly gesture. it is just that after three hours contorting myself in a hot stuffy basement room to run wires and cut zip ties at improbable angles, I was not especially interested in anyone else's animals. I was going to retrieve my damn dog and gear, slink home, and vegetate quietly in a corner for a while.

and of course Matilda decided to cosplay a rabid badger because this is how she handles soliciting play. because she is a small monster. (no, really. it is bizarre. it confuses the hell out of me. but it does seem to be a desire to initiate play.) and now I feel like the weird disruptive one. I don't even know what that lady does.

[k-hotchoisan]

Hongjoong x fem! Reader

Rule #4: got you wrapped around my finger babe, you can count on me to misbehave. Swamped with exams and finals, it was hard not to feel stressed. Thank god your new teaching assistant was there, right?

The finale of the guide—the rules of being a heartbreaker are simple, but whether or not anyone is able to implement them without letting themselves falter is another thing. So do you falter against the four men you entangled yourself with?

Word count: 6.2K

Warnings: general smut, dick sucking, dom!hongjoong, creaming, multiple orgasms, spanking, choking, studentxteacher

A/n: THE FINALE!!!!! Ngl I was struggling to find a way to tie loose ends together on top of thinking of a smut scene. And as we buckle up for the final ride, I want to thank everyone who has been interacting with this series, giving it so much love! ❤️💞 MAY YOUR TOILET SEAT BE ALWAYS COLD!!! THANK YOU FOR WAITING!

Tag list: @yourfatherlucifer @inniesworld (from twt!) 💌

❤️ how to be a heartbreaker: main guide ❤️

You couldn’t stop thinking about Seonghwa. When you thought about him, San flashed through your mind, then Wooyoung. You bit your lip. You simply wanted to have some fun, obviously, but at this point you were having way too much fun, being dicked down by three different men, and all of them able to send you to different realms of pleasure. You wondered if you had struck gold or entered a beast’s cavern by doing this. Nonetheless, one thing was for certain—you fucking loved the attention and how each of them fucked you so well, in their own unique ways. You could get addicted to each of their tastes at this point—as long as you didn’t get emotionally tangled with them.

Seonghwa had sent you back to your apartment before leaving for his work, and you stretched, still dazed over the sex you and Seonghwa had. You slapped your cheeks, keeping yourself in check. This was lowkey dopamine-inducing.

You left your laptop to charge in your room as you headed into the shower to freshen up. You only had one class today and you could come back to clear the remainder of your assignment.

The next few days you were stuck on campus, as the semester was ending, so were the deadlines, and for a good while, that took your mind off the three men, since you didn’t have the time to reply to their messages anyway. Miyeon barely had time to meet up with you, only doing so during her pockets of free time because she was caught up in her own deadlines, and sometimes she had to stay overnight in school to finish up. Being a fashion major was a lot more harder than you realised.

You started spending more time at a smaller campus library since it was a lot peaceful and quiet , despite being slightly out of the way. You did ping Seonghwa that you’d be pretty busy to meet him (well, if he wanted to meet) as well.

On some days, you stayed in pretty late and you’d see a boy with his nose in his books as well. He seemed to be always dressed in casual-formal clothing and he had stacks of papers beside an open laptop, his face hidden behind a pair of glasses and his laptop. But you didn’t have time to bother with the identity of that male because you had assignments waiting to be completed.

The next day, you attended your tutorial class and you spotted a new face standing beside your lecturer. Your professor briefly introduced the male as teaching assistant Kim Hongjoong, and you overheard whispers and squeals of how handsome the new teaching assistant was. Yeah, he was really good looking—all his features fitted all perfectly—even if the thick, black-framed glasses hid most of his features. He bowed slightly and walked over to the teacher’s desk, taking a seat. He scanned the class before beginning shuffling his papers before him, beginning to be engrossed with them.

The class quickly ended and you caught Hongjoong staring at you for a spilt second before breaking the contact. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion—for some reason it was as if you saw him around before. You shook your head at the insignificant thought, because you had deadlines to fight with, and your main worries were if the library still had seats.

On the way, you spotted a familiar figure from a distance and it seemed like he spotted you as well, as he stopped in his tracks for a moment before jogging over to you, his smile spreading across his face. His arms wrapped around you as you had to process the sudden physical affection from him.

“Wooyoung!” You greeted. “Don’t you have class?”

“Yeah, I’m on the way”, he replied. “But genuinely y/n, it’s so nice to see you around. I hate to be cheesy but I really missed you.”

You smiled sheepishly. “Sorry for kind of ghosting you and also for the things I said. Had a lot of stuff going on too.”

Wooyoung shrugged it off. “No, you’re probably right about it. I shouldn’t be an ass, going around and playing with girls like that. What you said kind of hit a sore spot for me though.” He paused for a moment. “I heard about what happened with San from him though. Dick move from him honestly.”

You took a sharp breath, tucking your hair behind your ears. “It’s whatever. It’d be stupid to keep on harping over this. I made it clear to him too anyway.”

“That’s great to know”, and he stepped closer, and your breath hitched. “I really, really missed you though. Let’s play again sometime, please?”

You felt your cheeks flush a little at how direct and flirtatious he was being. He didn’t stop there, as his fingers snaked in between yours, and he continued, “I stopped breaking other girls’ hearts already. I promise.”

You somehow found that so endearing and borderline adorable. He was pretty fuckingwhipped for you. You lifted both of your intertwined hands up close to your lips and smiled. “Of course. But after my deadlines and finals okay?”

Wooyoung’s contagious smile appeared as he nodded, releasing both of your fingers. He jogged back to his friend after waving bye to you. You stood there, swimming in your thoughts, thinking of when to meet Wooyoung again because truthfully, he was really fun, both on the streets and between the sheets. But you decided to hold that thought for another day as you picked up the pace to your usual library spot.

The library was pretty packed and that was starting to irritate you. It wasn’t Wooyoung’s fault that you didn’t make it in time because you willingly entertained him, but it was annoying that you couldn’t find a seat. You walked down each aisle, hopping to see a vacant spot at least, and you do—one seat left within a long row of occupied ones and was facing another student. You brisk walked over, approached the person sitting opposite it, asking if the seat was taken. His face looked vaguely familiar but you couldn’t put your finger on it.

When he gave you the green light, youplopped your stuff onto the vacant table before sinking into the wooden chair, switching on the table lamp and pulling your laptop out.

The long table started to empty as dusk fell and your mess started to expand across the next table. Man, it felt never-ending with churning out the study notes. You stood up and stretched a little to get the blood circulating through your body, and your eyes landed on the male sitting opposite you. He was still engrossed with what it seemed like marking assignments? You glanced at his face and it clicked. It was the new teaching assistant! He blended too well into the ambiance of the library, that’s for sure.

“Ms y/n, I can feel your boring a hole in my head, you know”, he stated, still not looking up, and your gaze immediately travelled elsewhere after being caught red-handed. He finally looked up at you and you side-glanced him, soaking in his features. Shit, he was really quite the looker, and him staring right into the windows of your soul—even through the glasses—was starting to make your legs feel like jelly.

You plopped back down onto your seat, hiding behind your laptop screen. This time you felt Hongjoong’s stare right onto you.

As the evening dragged on, you began packing up, feeling the hunger pangs since it was dinner time already. You glanced at Hongjoong one more time, and this time he’s very engrossed in his work, tapping away vigorously at his keyboard. You decided to leave him be, considering he seemed to look determined to finish whatever he was up to. Pulling your bag up to your shoulders, you pushed the chair in as quietly as you could. But even that caught the male’s attention.

His eyes flickered to you. “Going off already?” He asked, and you could see the slight eye bags under his eyes.

“Yeah I’ve got other stuff to do”, you replied, forcing a small smile.

“Well, I’ll see you in class tomorrow”, Hongjoong responded, as his gaze goes back to his papers.

“See you Mr Kim,” you said, before adding, “try to get home early and eat something okay?”

And you swore you saw a glint of smile on Hongjoong’s face as he gave you a small nod before returning back to his papers.

“Assistant Kim has marked your assignments and I’ve checked through them. Should you have any questions regarding your grades or the assignments, feel free to approach either one of us”, your professor announced as he passed half of the load to Hongjoong to hand out.

As you waited for your name to be called out, you began getting lost in your daydreams, which got interrupted by your name being called by Hongjoong, who had to repeat your name twice. You snapped out of it and quickly rush to him. You met his eyes, expressionless, and then you glanced to your assignment.

It was a decent grade, but you wondered about the comments that were marked in red by Hongjoong’s rather messy handwriting. You turned to the teaching assistant, “Assistant Kim, could we go through the assignment together?”

Hongjoong raised his eyebrows but nodded. “Let’s meet at the library in the afternoon when you’re done with your remaining classes then. See you then.”

For some reason, your heartbeat quickened. Never in your years in uni did you approach your professors one to one. You walked back to your seat, and you classmate tapped your shoulder as she gushed, “oh my gosh you’ve got guts asking Assistant Kim for a one on one consultation!” You scoffed.

“It’s nothing. It’s not like he’s gonna eat you up.”

She sighed dreamily. “He’s so cute though. I’m too shy to approach him.”

It was pretty valid though. Truthfully, you just wanted to ask about your grade and assignment, you already saw a whole line of students choking the queue with your professor, so you deduced that it wouldn’t hurt to just approach the teaching assistant.

Surprisingly, Hongjoong barely took up spaces in your mind as you were trying to keep up with your classes. During your hour break, you went to catch up with Miyeon, who despite her endless amount of assignments, still put in the effort to look flawless. Nonetheless, you could tell her finals were wearing her down quite a lot.

“Hi bestie”, Miyeon greeted, giving you a tight hug. You returned the hug, hoping it’d energise her. The both of you linked arms as you stepped into the food court.

“What are the chances of a really cute guy as my teaching assistant?” You brought up, knowing she loved that kind of gossip.

“Oooh who is it?” Miyeon hummed as she poked the chicken with her chopsticks.

“This teaching assistant named Kim Hongjoong. The girls in my module have been fawning over him since the semester started.”

Miyeon shook her head. “Don’t think I’ve heard about him before. Got a picture?”

You pulled out your phone, attempting to search the student portal for his teaching profile, and Kim Hongjoong’s profile popped up, albeit his photo seemed pretty outdated, looking a lot more, um, nerdier than how he looked now. You flipped you phone over to let Miyeon see. Her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“That’s him?”

You turned your phone back to you to inspect the photo. “Damn, that’s probably an old photo.” And the both of you snickered as you finished your food and catching up.

You were dreading to get back to the library, having to bury your nose in books again until dusk broke, or however quickly you were able to finish your study notes. You reached your table and you felt someone staring right at you. You glanced to the side and Hongjoong was there already, sitting beside you instead of opposite you. “Hi sir”, you greeted hastily, hoping you still looked presentable. You were about to at least settle down and apply a layer of lip balm or two and fix your hair but there Hongjoong was, with indifference in his expression as he greeted you back with a soft voice.

“Do you want to take five before we dive into your consultation?” He asked, his focus back on his laptop screen. You started wondering if it was gonna get even more awkward, so you declined. “It’s fine, we can get started right away”, you replied, taking a seat beside him, and his cologne hits you instantly. The session was barely starting and you felt yourself spiralling a little already.

“So,” Hongjoong began. “You actually did pretty well for this assignment. What did you want to consult about?”

You tried to best to focus and forget about the scent of Hongjoong just whirling around you. You glanced at your paper, and pointed out a few parts you wanted to clarify. Hongjoong, despite only a teaching assistant, was probably a hidden gem of some sort because even though you were fighting for your life trying to get his scent out of mind, you still managed to understand what he was saying to you.

When he finished, you beamed, pleased as you scribbled down his pointers, finally understanding.

“Thank you Mr Kim!” you smiled, meeting his gaze. Despite his professionalism, you saw a glint of satisfaction in his eyes. “Anything else?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Do you want to go through the exam guide then? The exam is coming up, isn’t it?” Oh right. That’s what you were studying for as well. Prof had handed out the exam guide like two weeks ago. You pulled out the guide from your bag, remembering you had scribbled down on the paper what you wanted to clarify but gave up immediately when you saw the snaking line of students.

Hongjoong gently took the paper from your hands as he studied what you wrote, and you suddenly felt self conscious of your hand writing. But Hongjoong simply pulled out a pad of sticky notes seemingly out of nowhere and started to tunnel in parts of the exam guide to take note, on top of going over your scribbled questions.

Time passed more quicker than your expected and you were able to cut your study notes down since Hongjoong was able to answer your questions.

“Thank you Mr Kim~ if I ace this exam, I’ll treat you something nice”, you hummed as you studied your study notes. Hongjoong only smiled in reply.

The next few weeks your spot in the library was beside Hongjoong. At some point, half way through your study session, you suddenly questioned him, “Sir, don’t you have an office? Why spend time in the library?” Things became more lighthearted the more you spent your time with him, but of course you were cautious since he was your teaching assistant.

“You can call me Hongjoong,” he corrected you. “And I do. I just don’t really like how cramped my desk is, since you know, I’m a teaching assistant.” You nodded slowly in acknowledgement. You went back to finishing up your notes and a sigh of relief escaped your lips as you slowly shut down your laptop. Holy fuck, you were set for the exam. Hongjoong only glanced from the sidelines as a smile smile spread across his lips. He knew you were gonna do fine anyway.

The exam days came and went, and if it wasn’t the exam anxiety eating you up, it was Kim Hongjoong. His smell was starting to be very familiar—almost comforting, given you spent almost every week together. Even during the examinations, he’d sneak you small smiles as he gaze met yours while he walked around the classroom.

Sprawling your upper body as you laid onto the study tables outside class, you were relieved that the exams were over, only the final assignment left. Footsteps stopped at the bench you were at, and you, thinking it was Miyeon, automatically went, “hey babe-“ until you looked up. Hongjoong’s had an eyebrow cocked, and you slowly looked away as your hands slapped over your mouth.

“Babe?” He reiterated, almost smiling. You turned your head right back at him, hiding your embarrassment with the fakest smile.

“I thought you were my friend. I am so sorry”, you apologised, eyes still widened in embarrassment. He moved and took an empty seat beside you, and you realised how close he was the moment his familiar smell hits you. It registered even more the moment he turned to face you, your faces almost inches apart.

“Can I help you Hongjoong? The students are gonna say something if you’re this close to me”, you teased, the embarrassment from before gradually fading.

“Class ended like fifteen minutes ago, and this place is pretty far from our class, isn’t it?” Hongjoong teased back. Fuck butterflies, you had a whole ass zoo in your stomach.

You tilted your head in amusement, unknowingly inching nearer to his face. “Very funny, Hongjoong”, you humoured him. “What do you have for me?”

And Hongjoong was almost lost in your eyes for a good second, and if one wasn’t eagle-eyed, they’d miss the speed of how quick Hongjoong’s glaze flashed to your lips before going back to your eyes immediately.

“I’ve got news”, he announced as he slowly backed away from you, taking you in full view. “Your grades are out.”

You expression immediately switched over, scrabbling to open your laptop to log into the student portal. Hongjoong was leaning in, still smiling.

You logged into the student portal and your cursor flew to the ‘Grades’ section as you clicked. The webpage loaded and your grade was splayed across the screen. You had passed with flying colours. The dopamine rush hits you as you squealed. You turned to look at Hongjoong, who was staring at you fondly the whole time. “I knew you’d do fine, y/n”, he reiterated.

“And now I owe you a meal. Well the semester’s almost over. I’ll treat you when I submit my final assignment”, you promised. Hongjoong nodded, satisfied with the agreement. Of course , he wanted you to clear this semester with a peace of mind.

With a final click, you push the submit button and your hands went up in the air in relief. “Fucking finally,” you cried out. Miyeon laughed. She was a lot more chipper since she was also finishing her semester. You felt a weight lifted from your shoulders, that’s for sure. The sudden reminder of having a meal with Hongjoong bubbled to the surface and you feel your heart racing. Right, you promised him.

“Oh look who’s here. Is that the teaching assistant you were talking about?” Miyeon whispered. Your gaze followed hers and you spot a gorgeously dressed male walking over. It was definitely Hongjoong. He was evidently in good spirits as he approached.

Miyeon’s smirk grew wider as she pretended not to notice and held her phone at her ears, pretending to be in a call. You couldn’t help but laugh at how shady she was looking

“Hey, y/n”, Hongjoong called out, his hands only carrying a leather briefcase. He’s dressed in a shirt, tie and trousers today, he had forgone his usual glasses, and your breath was almost taken away by how fucking good he looked. Almost.

“Hi Hongjoong”, you greeted, already used to calling him so casually. “What’s up with the look today?”

“Had a presentation so I needed to dress up a little”, he replied. “I think I aced it.”

“Mmm. Right. You sure would have”, you observed, eyeing him down. He did the same to you, looking at how your outfit was hugging you at the right places.

“Right. You haven’t forgotten our little arrangement right?”

“Well, you found me at the right time when I just submitted my report”, you hummed.

He placed his bag on the bench table and leaned towards you. At your peripheral vision, Miyeon’s eyes widened in disbelief as she was doing her best to suppress her laughter.

“Excuse my friend here. She’s having a whale of a conversation with her other friend”, you waved off before Hongjoong started to catch onto something.

Hongjoong gave Miyeon a tiny nod and she smiled back politely before glaring back at you.

“I’ll steal your friend for a date she promised me,” Hongjoong smiled as his hands grabbed your shoulders gently. And there it was—his scent again. Miyeon blinked twice before feigning laughter, telling the both of you to go ahead.

As the both of you settled into his car, a “damn you look good without glasses”, slipped past your lips. Hongjoong’s smile spreader over his face and you see it in its glory—his teeth were perfect and his smile fitted his face so fucking well.

“So you’re saying I look ugly with them on?” Hongjoong laughed as he begins revving the engine. You rolled your eyes. “You know what I meant, Kim Hongjoong.” Playfulness only danced in the glint of his eyes.

You tell him the location of the restaurant and the both of you set off, carrying your conversations in the car.

Unable to decide on a place to eat, the both of you ended up settling on eating at a local kimbap place. The conversations were mostly about school and assignments.

“So Hongjoong, why don’t you have a girlfriend? You know you’re like, insanely popular with the girls in our class right?”

Hongjoong almost choked on his food at the suddenly statement. “I’m flattered to hear that”, he coolly replied as he downed half a glass of water. “I think I just think my tastes are pretty, um, specific. We have really good looking girls in our class, but I don’t know, I just don’t think about them.”

You nodded in acknowledgment. For the most part, you observed him during consultation sessions right after class, and he would always have that virgin ass gap when a female student would approach him. It was pretty ridiculous now that you thought about it. Then your mind wandered when he had interactions too close for comfort during your study sessions and that one time when you called him ‘babe’ by accident.

You pieced things together quite quickly, but at the same time, you wondered if he realised it himself—or if he was just playing dumb with you.

“What about you? No boyfriend?” He asked, passing the baton over to you, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Nope. I haven’t really decided on committing”, you answered. Hongjoong didn’t seem fazed by that answer, probably because he knew you were still pretty young.

The dinner went on pretty smoothly, the conversation finally drifting past mostly school-related to more personal things from there.

“It’d be a waste to just end the night here, especially since it’s the last day of the semester”, you hum into the night.

“What are you trying to insinuate?” Hongjoong asked suspiciously.

You turned to him and rolled your eyes playfully. “I’m saying, that I’m not done with the night yet. So I’m going off?”

“To where?”

“I don’t know. All I know that it’s too early to go home”, you replied, gently bumping into him.

“Alone?” He asked in disbelief.

You nodded. “Why not? Might get a couple of drinks on the way.”

“I have beer at home”, he spilled, almost immediately. “You don’t need to wander around by yourself.”

You turned to Hongjoong, and you realised he’s eyeing you up as his body stiffens.

“I don’t drink beer”, you answered, a smile curling to your lips, and you saw him slowly getting frustrated.

“We can buy on the way”, he quickly replied, inching closer to you. You let him stay on the fence of suspense for a second before blinking and agreeing. Hongjoong lets out a rather loud exhale.

He brought you to his car and the both of you drove off, stopping at a nearby convenience store to get your liquor of choice, then going back to Hongjoong’s place.

Hongjoong told you to make yourself at home while he went off to freshen up a little, and you go ahead and sink into his soft couch. It didn’t take him long to come back and he spotted you lying on his couch comfortably, your head craning over at his presence.

You sat up and he walked over, taking a seat beside you, your knees bumping against his. He cleared his throat and reaches for the alcohol in the plastic bag. The cap is popped open and you take the drink from, humming “thanks” as you take small sips. He stares at you in disbelief.

“I…was gonna drink that”, he said, blinking. You stared back at him.

“Are you saliva conscious?” You asked, before tipping the bottle upwards, your lips touching the tip again.

He shakes his head, something else clouding his mind as he stared at you lick the rim of the opening. He took the bottle from you after you offer and took a big gulp, telling himself not to over think.

But it only got worse from there. When you came back from a bathroom break, as you tried to walk past him, you trip on air and landed right onto his lap. As you tried to squirm back, it only got more complicated as you end up grinding against his crotch on accident, and Hongjoong’s patience was running thin. He tried to get you up, but that only caused a soft moan to escape your lips as his touch around your waist sends you small electric shocks.

Hongjoong snaps.

He grabs your shoulders and pushes you against the cushions, his gaze digging into yours.

“You’ve really had fun playing around with me, huh?” Hongjoong whispered as his fingers ran up your waist to your chest, then to your shoulders, and finally your neck.

You smirked back at him, inching closer to his lips, and he was ready to dive in, until you pulled away, a sly smile flashing across your lips. Hongjoong couldn’t decide if he loved it or not, but he’s done with your teasing, because before you knew it, his fingers were grabbing your jaw, and you saw something spark in his eyes as he turned your head to face him. His hand slowly traced down to your neck, and his grip tightened, sending electric shocks down your spine.

“But you love it don’t you?” You hummed as his grip relaxed, staring at him directly in his eyes. Hongjoong takes a deep breath, evidently unable to control himself.

“Well, you certainly made things a little more interesting for me”, he replied, lust taking over his gaze, and that only made you shiver in anticipation.

You loved how Hongjoong had his fingers wrapped around your throat, like he owned you, hitching your arousal. He gave your throat another squeeze, and your eyes rolled back a little more, stars splattered across the inside of your eyelids.

“You seem to be in bliss, darling. You like my hands around your neck that much?”

Your eyes rolled back to meet his, and your lips curled into a smile. “Yeah. I’d love it even more if you fucked me while you choke me like this”, you replied, your hands snaking around Hongjoong’s. You see hints of rationale snapping in his eyes and his breathing grew heavier. He dived in for a hungry kiss, licking and consuming every part of your mouth. You could barely keep up, especially since he still had his hands around your neck.

He removed his hand from your neck, staring at the soft pink imprints his fingers left on your neck. He wanted to paint it even more, mark it even more, like his own canvas, and the thought of it only went directly to his dick.

Of course, you were always there to be the instigator.

He unbuckled his slacks and pulled it off, leaving on his boxers and his erection painfully pressed against the fabric. You wondered how much more you should push him, because it was getting pretty evident that he loved it rough.

He tugged his tie loose, trying to undo it, all while his gaze never leaving yours. Since he enjoyed looking you so much, you wanted to rile him up even more, so you climbed on all fours and tugged his boxers down, and his cock freed from the fabric, a thin string of precum staining his boxers. Hongjoong’s significance wasn’t really his length, but definitely, definitely, his girth. You tucked a lock of hair behind your ear, soaking his tip with your saliva. He groaned, his hands immediately travelling up to your hair, and tugging. Fuck, the electricity that travelled down your spine felt so good. You continued to go in deeper, taking in as much you could, feeling his cock twitch in your mouth.

“Fuck, y/n, you’re really a cockslut huh?” He grunted, bucking his hips, pretty much fucking your face at this point. His precum and your saliva were pooling at the corners of your mouth as your the vibrations of your moans only encouraging him to fuck your face even more. You fluttered your gaze right up at him and he almost loses it—you looking up at him innocently, with his cock shoved in your mouth. He pulled you hair back, and your lips leave his cock uncovered, now completely soaked, a string of fluid connecting from your mouth to his cock. Even that sight was driving Hongjoong up the wall—and he hadn’t even started fucking you yet.

His fingers stroking your chin as you looked up at him, you found yourself getting lost in his wild gaze. His hands found your hair again, and he pulled as his lips starved collided with yours, his kisses more aggressive than ever. The sensation of your hair being pulled tingling your pussy, the way Hongjoong’s tongue was soaking yours with his spit.

You managed to pull away slightly to speak, “Hongjoong”, you breathed, “need your cock in me, please.”

Hongjoong cocked an eyebrow. “You’re already begging? But since you asked so nicely” His grip releases, and he lets you fall back on his office couch. He slipped his tie from his neck and tightened a knot on both of your wrists. The flashback of you doing that to Seonghwa flicked into your mind, suddenly remembering how fucked out and desperate he looked withering before you, and now you were below Hongjoong, in Seonghwa’s position now.

Hongjoong‘s fingers wrapped around your neck now, and you felt your sanity slipping every time he squeezed your throat gently. Before you could even prepare yourself, Hongjoong already pushed his tip into you, and then his whole length so quickly. The fact he was thick only made things a whole lot more mind-breaking for you, his cock stretching you out on top of stuffing you full. You threw your head back in absolute bliss, your legs shaking as he bottomed out on you, his cock just filling up every space in your cunt.

“Look at you, taking my cock so well. You’re squeezing me so much. Too big for you?” He teased, lightening his grip around your neck for you to respond to him.

“Hongjoong”, you cried out. “Fuck, your cock feels amazing.” Hongjoong smiled as his ego inflated.

“That’s a good cockslut. I’ll make sure you’ll see stars for the next few days even after today’s fuck.”

He pulled out almost completely, and slammed right in, the nerves in your walls feeling every part of Hongjoong’s cock, the sensation had you fighting against the restraints, and a voiceless moan escaped, the arousal heightening even more with his hand around your neck. He continued fucking you into the couch, releasing his grip from time to time to soak in your pleas and moans.

He released his grip around your neck, his lips diving to your neck, biting and sucking, leaving a wake of bites on your neck and shoulder as his hands travelled to both of your thighs to hold them up, and he continued fucking into you.

“So good. So fucking good, Hongjoong”, you whispered into his ear as he continued to litter more hickeys across your bare skin. “Fuck me deeper, please.”

He smirked as he slammed right into you, sending more sparks behind your eyelids. Your legs trembled from the pleasure, loving how deep Hongjoong’s cock was driving into you.

“Hongjoong, I think I’m gonna cum”, you cried out, the knot in your stomach tightening.

“That’s my good girl”, he hummed, gently combing your hair back behind your ears. You were spiralling—how the fuck is he so aggressive and so gentle at the same time?

You bursted into pleasure as your orgasm consumed you whole, loving how he fucked you so deep as you creamed on his cock.

He began rutting into you, desperately trying to reach his orgasm. “Cumming… fuck”, he trailed off as he pushed in deep, spurting his cum right into your quivering hole. Your body was shaking from the pleasure as he released in you, whining and whimpering.

Hongjoong pulled out, and grunting at how sensitive his cock felt as he pulled out of you. His cum leaking out of your pussy only made you shiver even more, as he stared at your pussy quivering and pushing out his semen. He looked proud.

Hongjoong then walked over to grab a box of tissues after releasing his tie from your hands. He kneeled down, in front of your spread legs.

“Don’t move”, he instructed as you were still trying to catch your breath. He pulled out a handful of tissues and gently wiped you down. When he deemed that your pussy was not overflowing with his cum at least, he discarded the used tissues into the bin. He rubbed your thighs as you slowly sat up, then taking your hand into his, looping his other arm around your waist as he led you to his bathroom. Your heart fluttered how gently he was treating you, especially after fucking you so hard.

“Thank you Hongjoong”, you couldn’t help but say, avoiding his gaze. For fuck’s sake, he was the teaching assistant. And you just had sex with him in his apartment. His place was really out of the way, so when he offered you to stay the night, you agreed.

Only you realised it was a mistake when you changed out to one of his dress shirts, with only a pair of underwear underneath, Hongjoong couldn’t help himself, towering over you the moment you sat on the bed, trapping you between his arms before hungrily kissing you. The sight of you in his shirt had turned him on so much that he insisted you leave the shirt on when he pulled down your panties, and fucked you senseless with his shirt on—twice. He made sure that he unloaded everything into you, panting about being getting hard again the moment he pulled out and seeing you with cum leaking from your cunt while your face was flushed with pleasure, in his dress shirt. For some reason, that set him off.

Mingi was around your apartment with Miyeon, and he jumped as he read a message from his phone. “Y/n, I think you best prepare yourself.” You turned to him, confused, “for what?”

“It seems like San, Woo, Hongjoong and Hwa found out you slept with all of them and Hongjoong wants to meet you.”

“I mean they were fucking good though, like, no lie.” This only earned Mingi’s eye roll.

“I don’t know how you did it but, you definitely got these men hooked. You’d better find a way to settle this.”

Sure enough, a message pinged on your phone from Hongjoong, asking to meet up at a nearby cafe.

You entered the cafe, already knowing what to expect, as you neared a table with four familiar men. Wooyoung had his arms crossed with a pout on his face, San was looking up at you with thinned lips as he scratched the back of his head, Seonghwa with his usual smile, giving you a polite bow as you approached, and Hongjoong pushing his glasses up.

“Right. I forgot you all knew each other,” you huffed. “Can I help you all?”

“Y/n, I know you’re still kinda upset at me for what happened but Seonghwa?? I knew I saw that bike from somewhere”, San sulked.

“That’s what you get for being dick, San”, Wooyoung scoffed, earning a shove from the other male. “I still really liked being around you.”

Seonghwa cleared his throat. “Y/n, I know you weren’t looking for anything serious but what are the odds of it being all four of us?”

You had your hand on your hip, and you shrugged, “Maybe it’s fate.”

Hongjoong spoke up, “we called you here because we wanted you know your plans moving forward.”

“What plans? I thought it was like a fun thing yknow?” You played dumb.

“We…want you to choose”, San asserted.

You stayed silent for a moment, the four boys were nervously awaiting for your answer, even if they didn’t show it.

“I mean I would but that’s only if I lose the game,” you responded.

Wooyoung looked the most confused out of the bunch and he’s the first one who spoke up, “what game?”

“First who falls in love is a loser”, you smiled, already celebrating your victory as you leave the boys staring after you, realising they’d lost, terribly.

[audreydoeskaren]

Hello, could you please do a review of Chinese Dress: From the Qing Dynasty to the Present Day by Valery Garett? Or at least give a perusal? It looks really good to a naked eye. There's clothes for different occasions, ethnic groups, and social classes. But it was also written by a white British woman, and from what I can tell her research comes from (stolen) collections in UK museums.

Also, I am confused about a passage on wedding dresses; she says Cantonese peasant women wore dark blue or black cotton for their weddings (pg 172), but I thought Chinese wedding dresses were traditionally red. (I am Chinese; I am an adoptee researching my culture; on a personal note, if it's true then I'm bummed because nobody deserves a boring wedding dress and red is so gorgeous)

Many thanks!

(Here's a pdf of the book for reference)

In my opinion, any book on Qing Dynasty fashion that uses a court dress laid flat as its cover image should be immediately dismissed, and that is exactly what I would say about this book. Unfortunately it's yet another ethnographic account coming from a white anthropological perspective, as you've identified, and is only useful if you want a caricature of your culture. Like most authors on Qing Dynasty fashion, Chinese or not, Garrett takes the 19th century as the starting date of the dynasty and offers absolutely no information on anything prior to that. This is because of both the lack of resources available to her from before western colonialism and the general framing of Qing Dynasty fashion; a common mistake, but not an excusable one. The erasure and misrepresentation of fashion in the PRC is disappointing. The book is from 2007 though, and it reads like other books from the same time, so it's not even bad in a unique way. I cannot stress this enough but please use recent literature wherever possible.

About the wedding dress thing, I wouldn't say there is one single 'traditional' color since formal wedding dresses of the Han upper classes during the Qing had multiple pieces and were not monochromatic. In the first half of the twentieth century, wedding qungua had a black jacket and red skirt, but were also embroidered with gold or silver. Blue and black were common colors for the working class in the 19th century, and it makes sense for peasant women to wear what was economical. Having fancy weddings that were a special occasion was, really, an aristocratic and bourgeois custom, and I assume working people often just couldn't be bothered.

This reminded me, I really should finish that series on Qing Dynasty Han women's fashion. Seeing published white authors be cringe with such audacity kind of motivates me.

[ashes-writing]

stranger things ● the new girl pt 7 ● g.emerson

warning

heaaavy kissing / saliva shared. petnames (bunny, sweetheart, angel), PDA, a lil angsty but sweet, there is/will still be bullying, confrontations, smoking/ w**d / alch + parentless house parties cos teen drama/romance, total absence of sci fi plot and no deaths. 1 through 3 did not happen, either. Gareth is aged to 18 so.. season 4 = his senior year.

<- reader/you is female, with female parts, clothing/personality/hair/petnames and nicknames. this is self indulgent, when is it not with me, and i am.. not even a little sorry either.

word count

2762 exactly. for any missing context part 6 <- click to read.

summary

He pulls you onto his lap and you lock eyes, swallowing down a huge lump the second it starts to build in your throat. “Gareth?” you question, confused.. Because it hasn’t quite clicked for you.

taglist + shoutouts

-- taglist is here <- click to be taken to the doc and added. if you're here for eddie/steve or other characters and you don't want to be tagged in my Gareth writings, please lmk.

@tbmunson bestie. babes..babeeee. i love you sooooo much and i really hope you're having a good day today. also, this may be hella fluffy, oops rip. your daily reminder that you inspire me.

@littlestarfighter03

@nana90azevedo you are toooo sweet, omg. your comments had me giggling and kicking my feet and you don't know how much they mean to me, you really do not. thank you!

@allelitesmut

@chaoticcancer

@caravelofthesun

@dylanwritesgood

@eddiemuns0nl0ver

@just-a-blue-nerd

@slyisbehindyou

other links

masterlist ● gareth's masterlist ● about + rules

You’re settled in on the sofa with a stacked plate of grilled cheese and Sprite. Young and The Restless is just starting but you can’t pay attention, your mind won’t just shut down like you want it. You keep thinking about what happened at school this morning. And it’s not even the rumors -or Molly choosing something you told her, a traumatic time for you, to use against you and hurt you when it’s not even true.

It’s the fact that no thanks to these stupid rumors starting up all over again, you’re almost absolutely certain that by the time Gareth Emerson hears them, he’s going to write you off like so many others in the past.

And you don’t even blame him, it’s not like you were a thing. You wanted to be with him. Everything feels a little better when he’s around. But now, you think to yourself, that’s likely not going to happen.

You take a few shaky breaths and wipe your eyes. 

“I’ll get her back.” you mumble.

You’ve only just taken a bite of the sandwich and it’s like sandpaper in your mouth but you refuse to just not eat. You’ve just tossed the sandwich back onto the plate for now when you hear a vehicle door slam shut.

,, probably just the lady next door.” the thought comes and you turn your attention back to attempting to follow the storyline of the soap opera, sipping your Sprite. And you don’t even realize you’re crying again until you feel the warmth of tears slipping down your cheeks again.

The silence in the house is almost oppressive right now. It’s crushing.

A little too thick, a little too much. You’re overthinking everything. 

The door’s being knocked on and you jump a little at the burst of sound as it intrudes.

“Damn it, guys.” you mumble as you slip off the couch. You’re not even bothering with the formality of actual clothing because you’re at least 90 percent sure that it’s just Mari, Edie and Adi because they called earlier and even though you told them you were fine a thousand and one times, they said they’d come over later. After school.

So you’re not expecting to throw open the door to your parents house and find Gareth Emerson standing on the other side. Leaning in the doorway, filling up the frame. 

“G-gareth?”

His cheeks are on fire and he doesn’t have the first fucking clue what to say. But he knows you’ve been crying, from the looks of it, you’ve been crying since you walked out of school earlier. He steps up to you, pulling you closer by the hips. “ ‘S okay.. C’mere, bunny.” he’s quiet. Coaxing you right into his arms which he wraps around you. You break. And you’re crying all over again, soaking the white part of his Hellfire shirt in inky mascara tears. All he does is stand there and hold you, hands moving up and down your back to soothe you.

You’re choking up as you tell him everything, all of it. Including every single rumor that went around about you at your old school so he’d have context as to why you’re so upset right now. 

“Hey.. Shhh.” Gareth coaxes, gripping your jaw to make you look up at him because even though it’s killing him to see you this upset, he wants you to know that he doesn’t believe anything Molly’s been saying to anyone who will listen all day. He had a grand speech well-planned and rehearsed on his way over, but.. He’s in front of you right now and that’s all gone out the window.

,, She loves you, man. Do somethin’. Fix this.” the thought comes and it’s what prompts him to pick you up, step into the house as he’s holding you in his arms. You’re deposited on the couch and he goes back to your front door, shutting and locking it.

You’re still making an attempt to process why he’s even here to begin with, Hawkins is really, really small.. Surely he had to have heard everything Molly started up all over again -or some twisted and over the top version of it. He seats himself on the sofa again and pulls you close. Lets you lay your head on his shoulder. And for a long pause, minutes that drag out to hours it seems, you both sit there in total silence. You’ve calmed down just a little, he can hear and feel the way your breath has leveled out.

“You’re missing lunch, Gareth.” you mumble quietly. He glances down at you and shrugs. “It’s not a big deal. They were having that congealed whatever anyway.”

“O-oh.” you stammer around the O and take a shaky breath or two. And you can’t take it anymore, you have to ask the question.

“You uh.. You’re here. And still talkin’ to me.” you go quiet, the question you were about to ask falling flat because you got halfway there and you realized that maybe you don’t want the answer after all. 

It clicks for him then. The one thing you were most afraid of. Probably a big reason you left school walking after you got out of the principals office earlier. And normally, he wouldn’t even let himself have the teeniest sliver of hope but he heard you say everything you did out of your own mouth this morning. 

You’re in love with him.

And he’s in love with you too.

It’s something he’s still trying to get his head around, even now as he sits here in your living room.

He pulls you onto his lap and you lock eyes, swallowing down a huge lump the second it starts to build in your throat. “Gareth?” you question, confused.. Because it hasn’t quite clicked for you.

His hand raises, rests against the column of your neck. The pad of his thumb rolls over your cheek. “I didn’t believe her.”

You blink. “You..” you go quiet. The relief washes over you in waves and you’re shifting around in his lap. Trying to get comfortable without  invading his personal space too much because you’re just so afraid to do anything that might mess everything up right now. Gareth’s hand lowers and both arms wrap around your body, pulling you against him completely. He keeps his arms around you and you lean your head against his shoulder, your nose nuzzled into the side of his neck.

You don’t mean to blurt it out when you do but it comes out anyway. “The worst part about all of this was that I was afraid you would believe her and I…” you go quiet because you stop yourself when you realize you’re probably just about to say too much. Your face hidden in his neck, you can feel the way his pulse is beating strong and steady and you focus on that. Calming yourself down.

“You what, bunny?” Gareth asks after a second or two of trying -and failing, to pull himself together because the way you’re melted against him while sitting on his lap is definitely having an effect right now and the last thing he wants is to make things weird or awkward. “C’mon. You can tell me anything, okay?I-I mean it.”

You nod. Sit up a little and now you’re staring down at the way your bodies connect as you sit in his lap. “I didn’t wanna lose you.. Because of this. I’m..” your breath catches in your throat before you can get anything else out and Gareth raises a hand, gripping your jaw so you have to look at him. “You’re..” he prompts quietly, “Just say it.. Please?”

“ I’m in love with you.” you mumble, swallowing hard as you say it. “You don’t.. Like.. you don’t have to feel the same way, it’s okay if you don’t, really, I–” your words are cut off because he leans in, his mouth collides with your mouth, a thick pink tongue splitting your lips to massage alongside your own after he’s ran it over your teeth. One of his hands leaves your hips and tangles up in the thick mess of hair on your head, tugging your mouth  deeper until you’re breathless and he’s panting, trying to catch his breath without breaking the kiss because right now, it’s the last thing he wants to do. “What if I wanna, bunny? What if I feel that way too, huh?”

“You.. you do?” your words are swallowed by the slow and steady deepening of the kiss and as the shock starts to wear off, you both pull apart to breathe and stare at each other. Wild eyed and breathless. You raise a hand, settling it against the column of his neck as you continue to try and process what he’s just said.

It changes everything.

Unless he doesn’t want it to, you think to yourself, the thought makes you frown just a little and he picks right up on the little frown, leaning forward, into you. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin, it’s just I..” you laugh at yourself. ,, do not push this. Just let it happen. Stop trying to push for more. “ 

You shove the thought out.

“C’mon.” he coaxes, “Talk to me, beautiful girl.”

And he’s doing it again, he’s making you look him in the eyes. And it’s him, you can’t keep anything from him, it’s nearly driven you crazy to keep your feelings hidden the past few weeks. You swallow hard. “I wanna be.” you trail off because it’s so hard to blurt it out right now. “Your girl.” you finish softer, voice barely a whisper. But he hears it and he shifts the way he’s sitting because he’s trying not to have a raging boner in the middle of a very delicate situation because he wants all his focus to be on you and what you need right now.

“You..” he’s trying to process. He feels like he could fly, what you’ve just said is everything he wants too. His hands slide up and down your sides before settling on your face. His forehead meets yours and he chuckles quietly, cheeks burning hot, a feverish blush covering his entire body. “ You wanna be my girl? All mine?”

You nod. You can feel your skin burning. You shift in his lap because you’re trying to get closer, you’re trying to get ready to hide your face in the side of his neck again. But then he’s guiding your mouth back to his own, greedy. Hungry. A kiss filled with teeth as they nip your lips and tug until you feel aching, bruises raise to the surface of your soft pout. As the kiss breaks, he pulls away and he’s just staring at you. Quiet. Trying to process everything because today has been a whirlwind.

“You are, bunny.” he mumbles at last, leaning into you all over again. His forehead against yours and big blue eyes fixed intently on you. Your hand raises, fingers clutch against the front of his Hellfire shirt, gripping to pull him in even closer, his mouth deepening the kiss, his tongue massaging yours lazily. You’re giggling quietly through the last of your tears. 

“I think everybody ganged up on Molly. She left cryin.” Gareth mutters against the crown of your head when the kiss breaks for a while and you settle in against him. You look up, nodding. “I should’ve just punched her this morning.” 

“But it’ll be okay now, alright? I mean that.”

You take a few shaky breaths and you nod because you know. He isn’t lying. He does mean it.

He’s probably the only person you actually feel like you can trust.

“Gare?”

“Yeah, sweetheart?” he’s staring down at you, a pounding heart and the only thought in his brain is that he’s the definition of a lucky bastard. He caresses your cheek and you open your mouth only to close it several times. You’re frustrated with yourself, he can tell. Your cheeks are pink. He leans down to press a kiss against your hairline. “Just say it, ‘s okay.”

“C-can I come with you? You know… to your Hellfire thing? Don’t wanna be..” you start to say you don’t want to be alone but it’s still very much ingrained deep in you that you’re pathetic if you need someone, a holdover from all the times you’ve had to tell yourself that just to keep from trying to reach out, trying to let people in.

“Course, bunny.” he answers and you smile up at him. The two of you settle in, the television becomes mostly background noise until Gareth leans forward, reaching out for the remote you’ve sat on the low table in front of the sectional, bringing you with him as he leans. You give a weak laugh and he kisses the bridge of your nose. “How d’ you even watch this crap, angel?”

You shrug. “General Hospital is better but Helena, that bitch was on today and she annoys me so..” you laugh softly, the laughter dying away as soon as you realize blue eyes are locked on your lips and he’s leaning in all over again.

“I’m never gunna be able t’ stop doing this.” he says it as if he’s apologizing as his mouth meets yours and you sigh into the kiss, your mouth falling open to accommodate his tongue’s invasion easily. “I’m never gonna want you to stop.” you admit, breathless.

–

The door to the drama classroom opens and Eddie chuckles to himself. “You finally make it, Emerson?”

“What the hell happened?” Mike Wheeler asks, fuming to himself about having to wait to start the campaign as Gareth flips him off and takes his usual seat at the table after he’s dragged up a chair so you can sit beside him.

“Everything okay?” Eddie asks, gazing at you in concern. You smile and nod. Just the slightest hint of color creeps into your cheeks. Doe eyes settle on a few telling marks on both your neck and Gareth’s neck and he locks eyes with Gareth to mouth, “Finally?”

You’re toying with the necklace he slipped onto your neck and Eddie catches sight of light glinting off of the silver skull, nearly choking. 

He nods to Gareth, calls his name when he realizes Gareth isn’t actually paying attention. “Emerson, hey.. C’mere, man.”

Gareth wanders over to the side of the classroom Eddie’s standing on, staring out the window.

“What?”

“She’s wearing your necklace. Wanna explain? Did you fuck? What happened?”

“Later, man. But no. No, we  didn’t, okay? But..” Gareth chuckles quietly. “She is my girl. Mine. So none of that stupid flirty shit, alright?”

Eddie chuckles, and he’s snickering until he sees the stern warning look in his best friends blue eyes. “Her little friend the future librarian.. Uh.. she’s more my speed, dude.”

Gareth nearly chokes at this and he’s gaping. “Since when?”

Eddie blows out an exasperated breath and he’s stammering, he’s grumbling and he’s tugging at his hair. “We uh.. We may or may not have had words earlier… I-In the hall. She was goin’ t’ go into the bathroom and kick in the stall door on Molly before she left. Maybe I calmed her  down. Either way, I physically prevented Molly’s murder and Edie, she uh.. She was not happy about it. How’s somethin’ so cute so goddamned murdery, dude?”

Gareth’s doubled over laughing by now because of all of the group, Eddie Munson is the last person one would think gets flustered easily, but here he is. Face all flushed, stammering over his words. Frustrated beyond belief. “Oh, it’s bad bad.” Gareth says it as he stops laughing.

“Fuck you, Emerson.”

“Can we start the damn campaign now?” Mike Wheeler is frustrated.

“Keep your goddamn pants on, kid.” Eddie replies, giving the black haired boy a stern look. Gareth sinks down into the chair beside the one he dragged over for you to sit in and you lean in against his side, resting your head on his shoulder as you sit in on the beginning of a new DnD campaign.

And from what you’re seeing, it definitely looks like a fun game. You’re just not entirely sure you’d ever be able to come close to grasping the complex rules and the thought of an entire character you’d have to come up with, well.. You know you couldn’t do that.

But it’s fun to watch your boyfriend.

At the thought, your heart’s fluttery all over again.

Gareth Emerson is your boyfriend.

This is.. Not how you saw the day ending, not at all.

[polyamorousmood]

My partner and I have been together for over five years and had talked about being open to polyamory since the beginning. We've been actively polyamorous for almost two years now, and it's getting to the point where I will have to open up about this side of my life to my family and I don't know how to do that without causing possible issues (they can be old fashioned, but aren't like super religious). I would love to hear advise on how to handle this, or hear people's stories about how it went when they shared this with their families. Thank you!

I've never had any reason to tell my family I'm poly, and never will without good reason. But I will throw in my two cents ¢ (which inevitably turns into a dollar 💲).

In no particular order:

You set the tone😨🤹. Don't forget this. You can play it off as kidding if you set it up that way or you can make this a "I am willing to never talk to you again if you're a dick" thing if you set it up that way. You decide if its A Formal Talk or if you're just kissing someone on the cheek and they get to figure out what tf that means or if you're inviting them to celebrate with you.

You control the informationℹ️. Decide what details you'd like for them to know. You can even lie to them about some parts if it will make the conversation go down easier for them. This might sound sleazy, but depending on how much shit you expect them to dish, might be smart.

Tailor your speech to your audience🗣️. Idk your situation, but certain framings will work better for different types of people. Some can come around to the idea with education, others will use more information as more ways to hurt you; some family members may care about your happiness above all and come to accept it through that lens, some may need to understand it, some may be most open to it if they can relate it to a familiar concept, etc. Some want these comversations in private, some will only keep themselves in check from the social pressure of making a scene. You'd know better than I would what that looks like for them.

Starting with the safest/most open person could be a good way to test the waters. If they take it well, you can have someone on your side to tell the others, and if they take it poorly, you can re-evaluate how you want to handle things.

Genie can't go back in the bottle🧞. Once they know, they'll always know. The only way to maybe work around this is to make it out to be "just a phase" and make sure only one partner is ever mentioned to them again. Which means I recommend figuring out your line in the sand for how much BS you're willing to put up from them ahead of time. Its hard to consider what you would do if they took it really badly, but its hedging your bets for a familiar broken heart.

This is a personal preference, but I'm a fan of dropping details casually and when you're going to be leaving soon. Its conflict avoidant. It gives them time to chew on it without you having to be there "did they really mean that? If they did how are our grandchildren going to be raised? They were kidding. But if they weren't--" you get the idea. And they can run through all that and only bother you with the most important questions next time. It seems to me easier on others because they're not sure its true yet. They can toy with what the idea means without all the wight of My Child Is Coming Out To Me, if that makes sense? Will NOT work on everyone, but worth a consider imho.

[genericpuff]

The Uncanniness of Episode 165, and What Could Have Been

Alright, let's cut right to the chase, because this is like, the third time I've had to re-type this entire post because Tumblr has this stupid bug where it deletes my entire post up until the first photo upload every time I hit CTRL+Z to undo something 😒 (I have zero clue why it does this.)

Episode 165 has always... bothered me. I admittedly forgot about it in recent months, as the ongoing degradation of LO S2.2 onwards continues to rot my brain, but after stumbling upon it again, I was reminded of just how strange this episode is.

From the start, nothing really feels amiss. It picks up right where 164 left off, revealing the aftermath of Hades post-pomegranate and his first formal meeting with Hecate.

But it's as soon as we jump out of that flashback and return to the present - Hades standing before Persephone, the pomegranate tree perched peacefully in the background, that things start to get weird, in a way that I still honestly can't put my finger on.

And the spiraling into uncanniness begins with these two panels.

There's this rule in creating webcomics and writing stories - don't show or say anything you aren't intending your audience to pick up on. And when these panels were first released? I can tell you, as someone who was FastPassing back then, these two sets of panels threw the fanbase into an absolute riot. The fairly unanimous opinion from the fanbase was that Persephone had stolen the fruit for herself.

And can you blame them? The way the tree is framed, and repeated, with the camera shifting its focus, lacking the pomegranate in the shot completely, immediately told readers that it was gone. Of course, it wasn't, as was later clarified through the S2 finale and through Rachel's own wording; I believe she later stated that the pomegranate just 'wouldn't have been visible from that angle', hence why it was missing, but again, this is visual storytelling, it doesn't matter if the pomegranate TECHNICALLY wouldn't be seen from that angle, if you're going to remove it from the shot, that means you're telling your audience it's gone. It just feels too intentional, at best I might assume that that was the plan at one point, only for it to somehow end up changed along the way.

And it doesn't help that that scene is IMMEDIATELY followed by Persephone playing 20 questions with Hades.

These questions are all very specific, to-the-point, and hypothetical, concerning the pomegranate specifically, what it's done and what it's capable of doing. She's asking these questions not just for curiosity's sake, but with an ulterior motive - the writing on the wall is clear, she fully intends to eat the pomegranate, but is testing the waters with gentle but hypothetical questioning so she can gauge whether or not it would get her what she wants. Hence why she asks the marriage question - would marriage be enough, or would I have to make the trade with Erebus?

And then, of course, just as she gets the information she needs, she playfully changes the subject.

Hades does not look comfortable here. Some may argue that he's just nervous to have his photo taken with the girl he's lusting after, but again, it seems fairly obvious what's going on here. Hades has just made himself vulnerable* to the girl of his dreams (*i.e. trauma dumped and love bombed on her but that's another topic for another essay) and is now being cornered and interrogated by her. I know it's LO Hades, but I'd like to think he isn't that stupid. The sudden topic change isn't just to get a cute photo of him, it's to throw him off the scent, to make her seem innocent despite all of that earlier questioning.

In hindsight, we know now that she didn't take the fruit. She never planned to overthrow Hades. And while she wants to take things slow and 'do all the things', she does genuinely want to be with him, without it feeling forced. But I can't help but still feel unnerved at the sight of him in that selfie, watching the gears in his head turn, wondering what Persephone's going to do with all this new information after prying it out of him like a rat scavenging for its next meal.

Which brings us to Persephone. We know now that her wrathful side is purely wrath, gifted to her by Eris. Of course, often times her red eyes are applied to any sort of non-default emotion, including lust, but these are also the same red eyes attributed to her trademark appearance as the Dread Queen, foreseen by the Fates.

Again, I need to make it clear, in visual storytelling, do not show or tell anything you don't want your audience to know or infer. Why else would they suddenly draw her red eyes here after asking about the one thing that would grant her that Dread Queen status?

With Episode 165 and its strange toning in mind, let's turn to Zeus.

Zeus wasn't always an antagonist to Persephone. Zeus once supported the idea of Hades getting with her-

-but eventually shifts his opinion, after finding out about the Act of Wrath and Demeter's role in covering it up, eventually coming to the conclusion that Persephone specifically is planning to overthrow Hades. Not him, Zeus, the King of the Gods, nor any other God, but Hades. This suspicion has nothing to do with what Persephone actually did, and it's played off as a misunderstanding during the trial to set the stage for the creation of Elysium, but with the implications of Episode 165 still fresh in my mind, what if Zeus had been right? What if those suspicions weren't entirely unfounded?

Episode 165 feels like a preview for a story we never got. One that quickly and quietly changed gears halfway through and decided to shy away from the concept of Persephone actually being conniving and deceitful. I would love to say that RS set up this foreshadowing in a way that was brilliant, if it had actually paid off. All of the pieces were there, the pomegranate was gone, the stage was set - but instead, we now have Persephone playing house with Hades, hardly even doing a damn thing with her new title.

There is no Dread Queen.

[gillianthecat]

Big Dragon - episode six

~ Mangkorn has liked Yai since freshman year?! I was right, they do have a history. (Though what's Yai's side of it?)

~ Is Mangkorn saying he doesn't like girls? Or was that just the easiest/safest way to explain to his mom? Or is it a translation issue?

~ But omg this scene with showing his mom the photo is so cute. I did not realize that Mangkorn realized then how bad it had it for Yai. But I guess he's known for years.

~ How different Yai is with Nine than he is with Mangkorn. So soft and flirty in a... I don't know the word exactly. Endearing way? Like he's trying to endear himself to Nine? I was going to say submissive, but he's submissive to Mangkorn too, he just has to be a brat about it first.

this got long, so the rest is below the cut

~ I have inchoate thoughts about this, but not sure yet what the words are. I guess what I like is that neither version seems wrong or not him. In another story, Nine could be the right man for him. They just bring out different sides of him. And because we know this is the story of him and Mangkorn, we can see that the version of Yai with Mangkorn is the raw and real one. His attraction to Mangkorn flays him open and all his worst behaviors come out. With Nine he's on his company manners. I mean, he's obviously comfortable with Nine. It's not that he's being fake with him. But being with Nine doesn't dig down into the deepest parts of himself. (But in a different story, it could be with Nine he feels safe and relaxed enough to be sweet.)

~ I was right about Nine trying to give wise advice. I like this. He's genuinely trying to help I believe, but he's also making a case for himself over Mangkorn. I like this slightly messy mix.

~ So is Yai intentionally flirting with Nine? Does he even realize he is? Because he's definitely flirting. Is he trying to distract himself from his heartbreak? Is this the remnants of his high school crush coming back to life? Did he even realize he had a crush or did he just think of it has looking up to his Phi, as a type of hero worship?

~ Also I can see why everyone keeps falling for Yai, he is very cute when he's flirty.

~ Nine's actor is doing really well at portraying this self conscious awkwardness of a normally confident man trying to take his crush on a stealth date.

~ This kiss! This scene works for me. The way Nine kissed him, Mangkorn's reaction, Yai's stillness, the way he stepped away and got all formal with Nine (if I'm understanding his language correctly), the way that he seemed maybe into it at first, curious perhaps, but then when he stepped back he seemed surprised that Nine wanted to kiss him. Yes it went on a bit too long for a frozen unexpected kiss, in order to accommodate Mangkorn's response and flashbacks and walking away. But you know what, I'm so in love with this show it doesn't bother me.

~ And I appreciate how they didn't portray the kiss, or Nine for doing it, as dirty or evil. The framing of it was actually very sweet and tender. It's showing us that Nine is a valid choice, that it's just that it's not who Yai wants.

~ Oh my god they met as kids! I'm so in love with the show that I don't even mind, I think it's cute. And honestly it's not necessarily surprising that their families would move in peripheral circles - they are both from the wealthy elite, even if Mangkorn's family isn't at the ridiculous levels of Yai's (and Nine's).

~ OMG he's kept the lost childhood necklace all these years. Mangkorn I knew you were extra but I didn't realize just how extra. So his crush is even older than freshman year of university, it's from when he was like ten. This show.

~ Oh Mangkorn. It turns out you are someone who tries to run away from your problems. Or at least you had a momentary impulse to do it. But now he's not so sure. Honestly, this is not who I expected him to be or what I expected his flaw to be, but I like that it is. I'm not sure if I can explain why, I just like it. I guess in part because it is unexpected, but it also doesn't contradict anything we know about him. He has seemed so self confident but he's so devastated by this heartbreak. By Yai not choosing him despite all the baggage that comes with it. And it seems like he believes he isn't worth the baggage (see his speech of why don't you leave me then, I don't want to be the problem in your life.)

~ Oh and he's still wearing Yai's black and white!

~ I love this continuing awkwardness between Yai and Nine, with Yai's continued use of formal language. If it wasn't for that it might seem like the show is ignoring what happened, but it seems clear that it's just that the characters are trying to ignore it and pretend things are the way they used to be. And failing.

~ Oh poor Nine. My heart breaks a little for him too. This is all so realistically awkward. Nine's actor is killing it.

~ Oh god. Speaking of formal language. The way they aren't looking at each other. And, based on the mattress, I'm pretty sure this is the bedroom where they first fucked. [yep, confirmed by Yai. I will turn this luxurious mattress into a toilet. lol, you ridiculous, petty, heartbroken man.]

~ I love how being around Mangkorn brings out Yai's childish petty side. And such a contrast with the smooth way he dealt with rejecting Nine in the previous scene. It makes it more obvious just how raw and emotional Mangkorn makes him, now that we know he can act mature. (And of course this was done on purpose by the writers.)

~ All of Yai's heartbreak has coalesced into anger, and any anger Mangkorn might still have is hidden by the heartbreak.

~ This conversation. My heart is breaking all over again. Their faces. I love the way that it's framed. How Yai keeps hiding his face from Mangkorn and only turns when he's angry enough that his heartbreak won't show. Yai's behavior makes no sense on a logic level, but it feels exactly right on an emotional level. And then Mangkorn shoving the lost necklace into Yai's hand just as he leaves!

~ I can't believe I'm liking a they-met-as-children-but-only-one-of-them-remembers storyline. This show has bewitched me.

~ Oh god. I forgot about the scene from the preview last week and thought maybe the flowers were for his dad's girlfriend. But no, they were for his mother's grave. His surprising maturity with Nine tricked me into thinking that he might be trying to grow up. This scene is so good. And no one is wrong exactly. The girlfriend is trying so hard—I'm impressed with this actress who is making this small part come to life. And dad is just not able to see how broken-hearted and grieving his son is, he's only able to see the anger that comes out of it. (Also, is this dead moms week in Thai BL? My Only 12%, this; I feel like there was another but I can't recall which right now.)

~ I love it when I'm right. Yai is lonely. But also this is sad. And gives insight into his family history. Although I kind of wish I knew how long ago she died.

~ Ajo! I like her and all her outfits. And I can't help thinking of her as garlic. Even when they transliterate her name with the R.

~ I just really like this scene with Yai and Mangkorn's mom at the restaurant. I don't really have words about it now, I just like it. And i really like the mom and the actor's portrayal of her. She feels like a real, specific person, not just a generic mom figure. (In fact, I like all the women in the show so far. They all feel like interesting real people with lives of their own, even the characters we barely meet. Which is unfortunately often not the case for me in BLs, especially Thai BL.)

~ I guess I do have some words. Yai just cannot hold on to any emotional barriers around anyone in the Akira family, can he. And he is so hungry to have a mother again. I am curious how and why they arranged to meet up though.

~ Where are Pong and Park? Good question, Nine, I'd almost forgotten about them; we've barely seen them this episode. Which, I love them but the slapstick humor that accompanies all their scenes doesn't really fit with the tone of the episode, so it's probably a good choice.

~ Oh Nine, you're still trying, bless your heart. I don't mind though because it doesn't feel like he's being a creep about it. Look at Yai trying to regect his romantic overtures without rejecting his friendship. This is so awkward for him.

~ I also appreciate that it feels like Yai is actually studying as he mutters things under his breathe. That's the level of realism this show is bringing when it's not doing utter nonsense, and I love it for both those things.

~ Mangkorn is sticking with the black and white! My poor lovelorn baby.

~ I don't quite understand why Mangkorn and Hong feel so trapped by their fathers' insistence on this engagement. I believe that they do feel trapped, but it's just kind of presented without explanation. Perhaps if I was Thai, or had a similar understanding of family and family duty, it might make instinctive sense to me and wouldn't need explanation. But either way, I'm glad this conversation with Hong seems to have freed him a little.

~ And I'm glad that he acknowledges that he messed up in trying to hide the engagement from Yai. At first I was going to say that, why would he tell him, they started off as toxic fuck buddies, there's no need to tell the guy you had a fucked up drugged one night stand with about your life and entanglements. But then I remembered he's had a crush on Yai for years now, and was likely angling for a real relationship all along.

~ Speaking of which, I was hoping for more info on the whole I've liked him since freshman year thing. Because that changes a lot about how I look at their interactions in the first episode, but I need to know more to understand exactly how. (But it would make his behavior around their first hook up... something. Maybe he knew that the way to Yai's heart was through fucked up dubcon sex and blackmail? If so, he was right.)

~ I guess we don't need Pong and Park this episode because Yai's dumbass friends are here to do the comic relief 😕 I prefer the bodyguards. Though I guess it is necessary to have them for this bit about Mangkorn's reputation as a womanizer, to remind us (and Yai) how different he turned out to be from what we thought at the beginning.

~ Yai's phone case is green! (Mangkorn's color). Was it always green and I didn't notice, or is this new?

~ This kiss! [ok this show needs to figure out how to do extended freeze frame kisses without the actors actually looking like they're frozen but I'm in love with this show so I will ignore this minor flaw] Bracketing this episode with his men grabbing his face and kissing him while he looks stunned. Ending two episodes in a row with an unexpected kiss and leaving Yai's reaction as a cliffhanger. I love it. I live the parallels. And the contrast in how they are framed. Both are framed as romantic, mostly through the music, lighting and camera work, but while Nine's kiss felt melancholy, this one is depicted as triumphant. The swelling music! The swirling camera! I even like the reactions of all the onlookers (this show has bewitched me).

~ I kind of hate watching the previews for the next week because I want to experience the episode in order, and not be spoiled on all the highlight moments. But also I can't resist because I want more of these boys! Now! Anyways, next week looks delicious. It looks like Yai and Mangkorn decide to try again as if they're starting anew? And we get Nine and Mangkorn overtly competing? Be still my heart.

~ I haven't talked about how much I like the music in this show. I really like it, both for its own sake and because I feel like it tells the story so well. And it feels expensive, like the spent money on having music written, or at least arranged, specifically for this show.

Wrapping Up:

I loved this episode. I continue to love this show. And I think it's turning out to be actually good? Like well written and well structured, against all odds? But I can't tell if that's real or if I've just got Big Dragon brainrot. Or if, like Nine and Mangkorn, I'm just seduced by Yai's pretty face (and amazing acting).

wouldn't you think yai was flirting with you if he looked at you like that? i really cannot blame nine for getting confused.

[blxxditout]

Day 10: What does your muse look like? Did anything inspire his looks? From your secret Santa

He has a description in his segment of my google doc, and I've drawn him a handful of times, but I've yet to make a full ref of him. I'll go ahead and lovingly describe him again since his appearance is something that I really like about him. Putting that under the cut though. For inspiration, I'd say that Robert Pattinson was definitely kept in mind. I really liked his face, but I couldn't see it for Sid, nor could I imagine him portraying my character. Face claims are hard, especially when your character looks a specific way that doesn't align with your mental image of the muse. In spite of that and what I've been told though, Simon Henriksson from Cry of Fear wasn't taken into account despite the comparisons that could be made about their characters.

I did want him to vaguely look like a hunter from Left 4 Dead though, since originally he was going to be a zombie.

He is a tall, pale man, as sickly as a corpse but life still persists through him somehow. It couldn't be fathomed with how dull his skin looked besides the norm of a healthy glow. His eyes are sunken are the results of sleepless nights, and days spent rotting away in the dark of his room, though there is something that is unsettling about them. They're nearly unnatural with how light they are, nearing a silver while retaining a hint of blue. They say he has his father's eyes, but they were never this light, a testament of the horrific act that was done unto him by his partner. Even so, it is rare of him to express such through the windows of his soul, as it is often that they are curtained by the black mop atop his head.

His hair is a mess, perpetual bedhead that never bothered to be tamed. It curls slightly, with bangs framing his face to try to draw attention away from his striking eyes. Sid doesn't bother with his hair much, unless it's a hot day or irritating him. What he tends to wear doesn't change often, unless the Entity or someone else has bestowed upon him a new choice of attire, anything would be better than the bland clothes he likes to default to. That being said, his usual choice happens to be: a grey hoodie, black t-shirt, khaki cargo pants, and worn black sneakers. He prefers to dress for comfort rather than to dress formally, there isn't anyone he's trying to impress anymore, or would care to... save for a small few.

General appearances aside, he has a few finer details to his character that is rarely ever brought up. He has a prominent scar over his heart, taking the shape of a half of a heart(ironically) from when he was stabbed by Selene. The hair on his chest has stopped growing around there. His nails are also permanently black since he's reanimated. Even while being brought to the Fog, he still died, and I thought that it'd be neat of him to have. While his abilities are essentially non-existent save for his premonitions of the supernatural(dark sense/spine chill, etc.), he still has Scythe buried in his heart. If a killer stabs him there, they have a chance of hitting it, but they won't ever be able to physically retrieve it(he's not a kinder egg.)

Everything that I've explained here doesn't differentiate much from what I already have listed in his sheet, which is already pretty descriptive enough. Plus I have some other body headcanons: like how his teeth were made sharper upon being revived, or how he has stretchmarks on his stomach and arms. The little changes about his person from when he was alive compared to when he died/got brought back were very subtle, but they're a joy to describe. Regardless, when designing him, I didn't want to do anything grand with his character because he's not meant to be stylized. His whole point is that he was a normal guy, and then his whole life got flipped on his head. As he develops, he's bound to change and have more added onto his character, but as I see him now he is a perfect representation of what I wanted him to be.

[daydreamerdrew]

thinking about how Billy isn’t even against the traditional family structure, he’s just thinks he’s an exception to it

like, the people who were supposed to raise Billy, his birth parents, are dead, and after that he is badly burned by the person who was supposed to take their place, his uncle

I’ll admit there’s a bit of specific cultural context of how orphans/lone children were treated in the 30s and 40s that I’m missing, but Billy goes from living with his abusive uncle who tried to pressure Billy to go against his morals and steal for him in order to be given the basic necessities he needed to live, to getting by while homeless through the morally sound but not personally rewarding job of selling newspapers, to doing very well for himself with a radio broadcasting job that brought him a comfortable level of money, public respect, and constant opportunities to try to help people

his relationship with Sterling Morris is initially just an employee-employer relationship and it doesn’t ever stretch far beyond that, but it does become the defining stable relationship with an adult that he has, which I imagine to be possible specifically because it has that formal structure, rather than being framed through the less-comfortable paternal lense that has not worked out so well for him the past

and Post-Crisis Billy doesn’t ever form that kind of close personal relationship with Sterling Morris, he remains just an employer, but he does eventually develop a familial relationship with the Wizard Shazam, who was similarly not originally presented to him in that framing

when Dudley, who Billy genuinely likes and trusts and at this point knows that Billy is Captain Marvel so there’s no conflict there, offers to have Billy come live with him, Billy turns it down because he likes living on his own. after he reunites with Mary, he expects that she’ll leave her adoptive parents and come live with him and that he would, like, just support them both, which doesn’t happened because she doesn’t want to leave her parents. and when Billy’s attending a fancy private school after getting adopted by he Bromfields, he alienates himself from the other students by not masking how much judgement he has for them, not because he’s bothered that they were consistently raised by adults, but because he’s really bothered by how much they’ve had given to them, when he was literally homeless in the past and had to support himself all on his own (not a criticism that is ever levied against his beloved sister, however)

what Billy really wants is for his birth parents to be alive and for them and him and Mary to all live together like they were supposed to, but because that’s not possible he is not looking for surrogate parents and is satisfied taking care of himself if it only weren’t the fact that Mary isn’t leaving her adoptive parents and he does really, really want to live with Mary

he doesn’t articulate Ebenezer’s treatment of him into any conscious critique of the power adults have over kids or the imperfection on relying on blood bonds, it’s just that nobody is his dead and idealized birth parents, and so he’s not interested

[sylvandalism]

Last year my father bought a plot of land, at a great deal of course from a widow who wanted to move away. It’s within the same five miles that we’ve lived in for the past two decades, ever since we moved to my hometown. I was a little surprised by his choice, considering that he has always advocated for living below your means. Because (as I came to know incrementally) the plot is being transformed into a beautiful sprawling new build, a bright suburban New England house with a formal sitting room, a great room, a formal dining room, a master bedroom on the ground floor, and a lovely tiled foyer with vaulted ceilings that will eventually house the ubiquitous chandelier with acrylic beads. My sisters are mildly excited about it, bickering over who gets what room and whether they’ll have to share a bathroom. Now that the potential new house has four and a half bathrooms, they can be possessive, demanding of their privacy. I laughed and reminded them at one point we all shared one bathroom. I think it’s a little ironic because out of all of my sisters and perhaps even my parents, I wanted that house the most growing up. The luxury of having dedicated spaces for everything, separating the lived in clutter and mess from what guests would see. A beautiful mahagony china cabinet with carefully arranged Lenox dishes that would come out for special occasions, a study to work in with built in bookshelves, a den to which I could take my friends and we could prank call our classmates or watch Disney channel- all the idealized visions I picked up from our upper middle class family friends. And I although I knew even then that the trapping of suburbia were precisely that no matter how nicely they glittered, part of me still craved the comforts that my friends and classmates had so easily. What I had in comparison was a too cramped, perpetually cluttered, and sometimes sticky small house that was littered with half finished projects. The cabinets above the stove had foil on them since my mother was always cooking and she got tired of cleaning the grease off the wood. It felt embarrassing to admit: on the first level, that it wasn’t up too par with everyone else’s standard of living and on the second level that I was materialistic enough to be bothered by it. A classmate who used to bike by asked me once idly, “How do you guys all fit?” My face never burned faster. My mother often mentions the old house fondly, saying it served us well. My sisters never really seemed bothered by the house’s condition either and it seemed so vain and ungrateful to complain that I don’t think I ever verbalized it. Because the house did seem to expand for our needs (if not my wants): my parents let us paint our rooms and fill them with wall decals and picture frames and white princess beds. My mother sewed me gauzy purple curtains to match the exact color of my room. And in the basement, they got me two rows of bookshelves to display my books. We live and love openly, my mom often says. We’re  not quiet tidy little people. Having spent most of my life trying to be one of those people, it’s strange to come back and see my family planning for this new stage. I can’t help but be a little wary, knowing the significance of this lifestyle and the impact it can have on our perception of each other. My parents don’t really need to beckon to society considering that they’re closer to retirement age now. Only a few of my sisters live at home and they’re hardly socialites. It’s just a house, everyone says. I wonder how they’ll clean the chandelier. 

[carriesthewind]

I'm feeling grumpy and bad tonight, but I also know what's wrong and how to deal with it and so expect to be fine in the next few hours.

But in the meantime, and because of this, I'm thinking about how often the mental health system failed me, especially before I got my diagnosis.

In particular tonight, I'm thinking about all of the initial patient screening and health questionnaire forms I filled out, and how they not only didn't properly flag my potential issues (even my anxiety, which is part of what they are designed to do, and even though actual professionals who actually bothered to meet me and care and try generally agree my anxiety was/is, in formal diagnostic terms, pretty freaking bad), but confused me and made me question whether I was actually struggling, even during times when I could barely function enough to get to the appointments.

The screenings & questionnaires were generally based on the PHQ-9 and GAD-7, although they would often be modified with additional questions (e.g. asking about connections and contact with family and friends, or asking about sexual feelings and contacts - often in ways that I literally couldn't answer b/c the wording of the answers didn't account for the existence of asexual people). I would take these before initial meetings with a new provider, but was also often given them before every appointment, as a way of tracking my mental health over time and, presumably, flagging for series issues that needed to be immediately addressed.

The biggest problem was though, that these surveys are entirely useless to someone with a sensory processing disorder that affects their interoception. Even looking at samples of the PHQ-9/GAD-7 now fills me with an automatic sense of panic, because the entire framing of the survey isn't based around how often things have happened, but "how often have you been bothered by any of the following problems?" (emphasis added). How often have I been bothered? I *genuinely* have no idea. Not because it's been so many or so few, but because that does not compute.

So not only do most of the questions depend on being able to correctly identify my own emotions and signals (e.g. "feeling down, depressed, or hopeless," "feeling nervous, anxious, or on edge" - I don't know if I feel anxious, isn't that what you are supposed to tell me???), even the ones that try to identify more concrete behaviors are framed in a way I don't know how to answer. For example, how often have I been bothered by having a poor appetite? Well I don't really have a poor appetite, I love food, but I can't really tell when I'm "hungry" and so can end up going a long time without eating and then even if I want to eat sometimes there is nothing or little that I can physically eat, and this can cause trouble but it doesn't "bother" me (I think?), and even when it causes trouble it's the affect of not eating, not my appetite that's causing me problems, so....(there were genuinely times when I was eating so little that I was fainting, but I still honestly answered "not at all" to this question).

And so I would usually score pretty low of these screenings, and moreover, doing them week after week, time after time; even when I had mental health providers who did see my problems, who were helping, it always ended up making me feel like I must be faking? Or my problems couldn't be serious? Because I was coming in with all of these problems, many of which were similar to things indicated on the tests or were even clearly what the test was trying to screen for (like I said, pretty freaking bad anxiety), but I wasn't experiencing it in a way that was anything like what the questionnaire was describing. And I didn't have the words (and no one offered them to me) to explain that the questions didn't seem to fit me, didn't help, were only making me feel worse. So I would take the questionnaire and then get angry at myself for not being normal and for wasting everyone's time.

I don't have a solution for this, but it still makes me upset, so many years later.

[id0ntkn0w0101]

Of Dreams and Fury: Chapter 1

Hel

The air outside was cold, so I dressed for it. The tights underneath my pants were keeping me warm, but far from comfortable as I walked down the street to my parents’ townhouse. There was finally a new work assignment, which couldn’t have came at a better time come at a better time considering rent was due and I refuse to let my family cover it. I need to be the one that pays for my own shit. My glasses fogged as my breath came out in cloudy puffs in front of me, and I walked up the steps to the base of operations of the Cramer Retriever Corps.

The family business was bustling, just as it always was when the air got cold and family got on the mind. People dressed in similar uniforms as me were sat around talking or were rushing files to and from the cabinets lining the inner walls. It looked like a small police station’s bullpen or something. “Hely,” I shut my eyes and took a deep breath as I heard the most annoying voice of my life, “You here for the big one?” “Carliah,” I started on my usual correction, “I’ve told you before. At work its Helena, not ‘Hely’. And yeah, I guess so. Mom just called me at the asscrack of dawn telling me they needed me for a job. I didn’t get any details on the job.” “Well even I don’t know any details. They brought the contractor in through the back door and haven’t told anybody anything. All I know is that there’s a lot of money going on in this transaction.” “Ma still has you doing the books, eh?” “You know she’s too busy and dad’s terrible at the numbers. You should probably get in there though. Mom seemed really nervous about this one and they didn’t even bother talking to anyone else. They specifically called you for the job.”

I tried to hide my weary look, but Carly could always read me like a book. If they didn’t even bother getting any of the other Retrievers to look into it, it must be a big deal. Carly pointed towards the back room, only used for the most secretive of clients. Still, they usually at least told my sister about who would be in there. I racked my brain, thinking of every possibility of who could be on the other side of the door. Since they asked for me specifically, it might be someone I know, or maybe they asked me because it’s a big client and they want to act like their eldest isn’t a disappointment. I paused with my hand on the door handle. I could turn around right now, and nobody would even try to stop me. Despite these thoughts, I still felt my hand pressing down on the handle and the door opening.

The door opened to a blackout curtain, hung from the ceiling like the one’s in hospital rooms, there to block the view of the high-stakes clients when someone had to leave the room for a moment. I heard one of the metal-framed chairs scrape against the wooden floor and swift, but quiet steps coming closer. My mother, her dark hair tied in a tight, migraine-inducing bun stuck her head out from behind the curtain to make sure it was me, before turning back to the table I knew was in the middle of the room beyond the curtain. I shut the door behind me and parted the curtain and gasped. There, poised on the chair as if on his throne, was King Nikolai.

My mother cleared her throat as I gawked at the man who could order my execution with as little as a mutter to one of the bulky Fae guards that stood beside him. I quickly bowed down to one knee. “No time for bows and curtsies, my dear,” the King stated, his voice blunt and gruff, “Please sit, we have much to discuss and not long to discuss it.” I quickly stood and sat in the empty chair next to my mom’s. “Your majesty,” my mother started, “I’d like to formally introduce you to my daughter, Helena Cramer. She only works on our most important cases, though all of her previous ones certainly don’t compare to one contracted by yourself.” Ah, so mom was in kiss ass mode. I suppose for once she has good reason for it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, however I would much prefer to get to discussing the case,” the king said, and my mother anxiously cleared her throat before pulling one of the contracts out of the manila folder on the table. “The contract is for Lord of Fire,” his majesty said, “We have reason to believe he was kidnapped two days ago.” “But the Lord of Fire died last week,” I interjected, much to my mother’s horror, “It was all over the news. Was it faked?” Before my mother could scold me, the King quickly replied, “My apologies. The now former Lord of Fire died. His half-Fae son, however, is supposed to be sworn in as the new Lord, but I believe he’s been kidnapped.” “Is there any chance he ran away to avoid his new duties,” I asked bluntly. The King blinked back at me owlishly. “Helena Cramer,” my mother scolded. “I suppose there could be,” His Majesty said, amused, “But I doubt it. He always seemed so proper and put-together. He never missed any of the big events. Regardless he needs to be found.” “If he doesn’t want to be the new Lord of Fire, why does he need to be found. Why not just keep your money and swear in the next in line or a new family?” “Because Dorian Merrick took the Heirloom. Specifically the Amulet of Light. Both stealing an Heirloom of the Crown and absconding from your duties are considered treason. If he returns to fulfill his position, I am willing to pardon the theft, but if not-” “He will be executed,” I said gravely. The King simply nodded.

King Nikolai and my mother discussed terms of the contract as I asked occasional questions regarding the difficulty of completing the contract that would raise the price. Dorian Merrick had been kept hidden most of his life, so he knows how to hide from people. He hand a penchant for running from authorities, which explains why the King’s own people were unable to find the young man. Despite supposedly knowing his father well and seeing him often, the only physical description the King could give me was that Dorian has “a unique brown-blonde shade of hair and medium toned skin” and pointed ears he inherited from his father. The rest of the transaction went normally, with the King dropping an extremely large down-payment, no doubt increased for discretion, before he rose from his chair and shook my hand and left with his guards.

[criminalmindzjunkie]

Avoidance

masterlist

part two

Summary: Reader doesn’t know what she did to make Spencer hate her so much.

A/N: This fic is just a reminder that sub!Spencer lives rent free in my head at all times. Also, if anyone would like to be on a taglist for one shots like these, let me know! I’m going to work on getting one started.

Pairing: sub!Spencer/femdom! reader

Content Warnings: honestly way too much swearing, sexual harassment, slapping, hands free orgasm, oral sex (male and female receiving), hand job, orgasm denial, edging, unprotected sex, vaginal penetration, degradation, femdom 

Word Count: 8.2k

           I have absolutely no idea what I’ve done to make Spencer Reid hate me.

           Usually, when someone despises a person to the point of complete and total avoidance, there’s a reason. No one just wakes up and decides to resent another person for the hell of it – right? Wrong.

           Because Spencer Reid positively loathes me – and I have no idea why.

           It all started on my first day at the BAU. I had somehow landed the highly coveted job of media liaison after the previous one had decided to complete the training to be a profiler. For reasons unbeknownst to me, they thought a twenty-four-year-old fresh out of college with no prior job experience was the best fit for the position. I didn’t understand it, but I also wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

           To say that I had been terrified the first time I set foot into the bullpen would be the understatement of the century. After a very formal and very intimidating orientation with the unit chief, my predecessor, a beautiful blonde named Jennifer, offered herself up to be my personal tour guide. Jennifer introduced me to the other members of the team, and with every smiling face I came in contact with, my fears of being the odd man out were assuaged. I could tell that Penelope Garcia, tech analyst extraordinaire, would most likely be my biggest ally – and it was abundantly clear that Derek Morgan and I would probably get into a fair amount of mischief together. Elle Greenaway seemed like the obvious choice for a future drinking buddy, and Jason Gideon – well, he merely grunted at me in acknowledgment before retreating back to his office. I figured three out of four wasn’t so bad.

           I didn’t meet Doctor Spencer Reid until after lunch. Jennifer mentioned something about him guest lecturing at a local university, which surprised me considering she mentioned him being a year younger than me. Apparently, the kid was an actual genius, which was more than a little bit intimidating, but Jennifer assured me that Spencer was a sweetheart.

           “He’s a little quirky, but I’m sure you’ll love him. Just don’t be surprised if he tries to talk your ear off,” Jennifer laughs. “Last week I asked him about the weather and he went off on a tangent about climate change that lasted nearly an hour.”

           By the time Spencer strolled into the bullpen at exactly one in the evening, I was sitting perched atop Jennifer’s desk, thoroughly engrossed as she told me about their latest case. When she stops talking midsentence in favor of smiling at someone behind me, I half expect that Morgan is attempting to sneak up on me, when:

           “Hey, look who’s back,” Jennifer greets, prompting me to turn around excitedly. I was eager to put a face to the man I’d heard so much about.

           And when I turn, my eyes land on the prettiest man I’ve ever seen.

           Sharp cheekbones and a chiseled jawline are framed by shaggy brown hair, complete with beautiful brown eyes and soft, pillowy lips. As if his good looks weren’t enough, he’s dressed in the most adorably nerdy sweater vest and a pair of thin framed glasses. He’s absolutely precious – a fact that Jennifer had conveniently left out.

           “How was the lecture?” Jennifer asks him as he places his satchel on the desk adjacent to hers. Spencer perks up at this, smiling excitedly from across the divider.

           “I think it went really good, actually. I incorporated this really cool joke that I heard about quantum physics. Do you want to-”

           He stops abruptly when he realizes Jennifer isn’t his only spectator, and those lovely brown eyes go almost comically wide when they settle on me.

           “Spencer, this is Y/N Y/L/N. She’s the new media liaison. Y/N, this is Doctor Spencer Reid.”

           I give him my best smile, tacking on a small wave for good measure.

           “It’s nice to meet you, Doctor Reid. Jennifer’s told me a lot about you.”

           “Uh, y-yeah. It’s n-nice to meet you, too,” Spencer stutters. He looks positively stricken and I’m fairly sure he hasn’t blinked in over a minute. I cast a glance at Jennifer, who seems just as confused as I am.

           Well, she had mentioned that he was a tad strange.

           “I’d like to hear the joke,” I offer, only to immediately regret it when I see him tense up.

           “N-No, that’s o-okay,” he chokes out as he struggles to gather the files on his desk. “It’s n-not that good, anyways.”

           And just as quickly as he came, Spencer leaves in a flurry of crumpled papers, leaving Jennifer and I wondering what the fuck just happened.

--

           Things didn’t get better with time. In fact, they got much worse.

           In the six months that I had been working for the BAU, I could count my interactions with Spencer Reid on one hand. It wasn’t for lack of trying on my part – in my desperation to figure out what I’d done to make him avoid me, I sought out the young genius every chance I got. But every time I got within ten feet of him, it’s like an alarm would sound in his head and he’d make up some excuse to leave the room.

           The others had noticed his strange behavior, too. It seemed they all had made a sort of game out of it – calling Spencer into rooms that I was in just to see him panic, or asking me to personally deliver files to his desk. At first, I played into it, hoping that their teasing would help to diffuse some of the tension.

           After a month of being on the receiving end of Spencer’s cold shoulder, I started avoiding him, too.

           I tried to act indifferent – like it didn’t hurt me as badly as it did. I no longer sought him out, and by month two, we had a sort of understanding. I didn’t go near him, and he didn’t go near me, and that’s how it went on for four miserable months.

           Until today.

           “Reid, Y/L/N, you’re in 202.”

           I damn near drop my bag on the floor. This was bound to happen at some point or another, but I hadn’t planned on that day being today, and I was not prepared. After nine hours of running around the local police department, my body was weighed down from fatigue and I was downright grumpy. Not to mention I had picked the worst possible day to try and break in a new pair of heels, and my feet were throbbing.

           Needless to say, I was in no mood to deal with Spencer Reid’s bullshit.

           “Uh, Hotch? Could I maybe room with Elle?” I ask, sending a glare in Morgan’s direction when he snorts out a laugh. Hotch raises an eyebrow at me.

           “Why? Is there a problem?”

           Yes, sir, there certainly is. And your guess is as good as mine as to what that problem is.

           “No, but I just think that-”

           “Good. Then you should be fine to share a room with him.”

           Right.

           I spare a brief glance at Spencer, who, in the last thirty seconds, has turned the color of a tomato. I pray that he’ll speak up and voice his discomfort, but just like always, he stays silent.

           Hotch doles out the room keys and I begin the trek down the hallway, my poor aching feet groaning in protest with every step. I’m vaguely aware of the sound of footsteps behind me, and it’s not until I swipe the key into the key card that Spencer speaks.

           But not to me – no, never to me.

           “Derek, please, I’m begging you. Just switch with me this one time, and – and I’ll do your reports for a month!”

           After six months of dealing with Spencer’s aversion to me, his words should come as no surprise. And really, I’d expected as much - but that didn’t mean it hurt any less.

           “Not happening, kid. This is the perfect opportunity for you to get over whatever problem you have with Y/N. I bet you’ll even end up liking her. She’s not going to be rude to you, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

           “… T-That’s not what I’m worried abo-”

           I don’t wait around to hear the rest of his sentence. I push open the door to the room, not bothering to wait for Spencer before closing it. I kick off my heels as soon as the door clicks shut, letting out a half relieved, half frustrated  groan.

           After claiming the bed nearest the air conditioner as my own, I pluck my pajamas and toiletry bag out from my suitcase and shuffle over to the bathroom. The way I see it, the quicker I get a shower and can go to sleep, the faster the night will pass. Before I know it, this unfortunate situation will be a thing of the past.

           After drawing out the shower for as long as I possibly could, I exit the bathroom clad in a tank top and a pair of shorts, hair dripping wet and skin freshly scrubbed clean. Spencer’s sitting on his bed, book in hand and tie loosened. He doesn’t look up at me when I walk by - not that I’d expected him to. A thick silence hangs in the air as I pull a bottle of lotion out from my suitcase, and I debate turning on the TV just to make things slightly less awkward. In the end I decide against it, because I doubt even that could make this situation better.

           I prop a leg up on the bed and begin to lather my legs in cherry scented lotion, paying special care to my aching feet before moving on. It’s not until both of my legs have been thoroughly massaged and coated in lotion that I look up.

           Spencer’s eyes are locked on me, mouth hanging open and chest heaving up and down. His knuckles are white from how hard they’re clutching the book in his hands, but despite that I can still see the way they’re trembling. When he realizes I've caught him staring, he closes his mouth and gulps hard.

           I straighten up and raise an eyebrow in a silent question, and that’s enough for Spencer to snap his book shut and scramble off of the bed. He’s clumsy as he moves to his suitcase, dropping his bottle of travel shampoo twice before he reaches the bathroom. If I wasn’t so off put by whatever the hell had just happened, I might have thought it cute.

--

           As if the universe thought my current predicament wasn’t enough to deal with, the next morning I was dealt another shitty hand. This time, my distress came in the form of a young cop who couldn’t pick up on social cues to save his life. After an entire morning of dodging sleazy advances, I finally managed to shake him when his superior sent him out to go and actually do his fucking job.

           Or so I thought.

           I’m standing in the breakroom, pouring my fourth (or is it my fifth?) cup of coffee when I hear the sound of footsteps in the hall. I don’t know if I’ve developed a sixth sense about these things, or if I’m just particularly on edge today, but I know it’s the young officer before he can even cross the threshold.

           And when he does, and he sees that he has me cornered, a saccharine smile stretches across his lips.

           “Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he drawls in an accent that could probably be attractive if he wasn’t so damn skeevy.

           “Might wanna get your eyes checked,” I mutter, refusing to look in his direction as I stir my coffee.

           “Pretty and feisty. Just how I like my women.”

           “I am not your anything,” I seethe, and instead of backing off like any respectful human being would, he just chuckles and begins to saunter towards me.

           “C’mon baby, you don’t have to be that way. You don’t have to act all professional with me.”

           “Don’t call me that.” I look at him now, and the smug, self-righteous smile on his face makes my blood boil.

           “You don’t like baby? That’s fine – I’m sure I can think of lots of other things to call you,” he murmurs. He’s closer now, so close that I can practically feel his breath against my neck.

           “I’m going to tell you to stop one more time, and it would be in your best interest to listen,” I growl.

           “Or what?” he taunts. “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I jolt forward when a hand comes down hard on my ass, squeezing me harshly through the material of my skirt.

           Oh, fuck no.

           I’m whirling around faster than I ever thought possible, and then a harsh crack sounds throughout the room as my hand comes in contact with his face.

           My hand stings from the contact, but the pain is welcome because he flies backwards, stumbling and grasping as his already reddening cheek.

           “What the fuck?” he roars, eyes flashing with unbridled fury. I take several steps towards him, and to my utmost delight he nearly trips over himself in his hurry to put distance between us. I stop when his back hits the wall and I lean in until our faces are only inches apart.

           “Listen here, you limp dick fuck,” I snarl. “I’m getting real sick and fucking tired of pathetic pieces of shit like you thinking they can put their hands on women. What’s your problem? Are you so fucking tactless that you can’t get anyone to fuck you?” I punctuate my question by jabbing my pointer finger into his chest and cocking my head to the side. “Are you so unappealing that the only way you can get your hands on a woman is to wait until she’s alone and try to corner her?

           Or is it a power thing? You’ve got the gun and the badge so you think you’re entitled to just take what you want, don’t you? You think no one can stop you because you’re in a position of power. Well, I have some news for you – I outrank you, and you just assaulted a federal agent. I will not stop until I ruin your fucking career, and if you even think of trying to lie your way out of this, I’ll do a helluva lot fucking worse. After the week I’m having, I am just looking for an excuse to kick your fucking dick into the dirt. Do you understand?”

           By the time I finish speaking, my chest is heaving up and down and my eyes are narrowed into slits. The officer is so angry that he’s shaking, hands balled up to fists at his sides. For a moment, I think he’ll try to hit me, but then his hard-exterior cracks and the anger gives way to fear.

           “You – You can’t tell anyone about this,” he says, trying his best to sound menacing. But his voice wavers, and I can tell he’s losing his grip. “It’ll r-ruin my career.”

           I raise my hand up to his cheek, placing my palm over the red imprint I had left on his skin. And then I flash him the sweetest goddamn smile that ever there was.

           “I’d like to see you try to stop me.”

           I give him a pat on the cheek before turning around and heading for the door, only to stop halfway when I see that I have an audience of one.

           Spencer stands in the doorway, a coffee mug gripped tightly in one hand, mouth agape and eyes wide. He’s standing stock still, eyes darting in between the police officer and me. I let out an exasperated sigh because of-fucking-course it would be Spencer that would happen to walk in on whatever that just was.

           “Close your mouth, Reid. That’s how you catch flies,” I deadpan, prompting Spencer to snap his mouth shut.

           Without another word, I brush past him and leave the break room.

--

           I suppose the universe had decided to finally give me a break, because that afternoon we were able to apprehend the unsub. But my good fortune only went so far, because Hotch announced that we would be leaving first thing in the morning – which meant another night alone with Spencer Reid.

           He didn’t mention what he walked in on when the two of us arrived back at our room, and I didn’t expect him to. The two of us went about the motions of unwinding from the day in complete and utter silence, and by the time I emerge from the shower I decide that I’ve had enough.

           “I’m gonna go stay with Elle and Derek,” I murmur as I zip up my suitcase and slip on my shoes.

           “Oh. O-Okay.”

           And that was that.

           It’s about an hour later when my phone is on four percent that I realize I hadn’t remembered to bring my charger with me. I contemplate just letting it die, but the idea of sitting through a seven-hour jet ride tomorrow without it sounds excruciating. Then again, so does the idea of having to suffer through an interaction with Spencer.

           The phone wins out in the end, and with Derek and Elle still snoring softly in their respective beds, I slip out of the room and into the hallway. With any luck, Spencer will be in a similar state and I’ll be able to sneak in and out without him waking up.

           I think thank my lucky stars when I slowly crack open the door to Spencer’s room and see that the lights are off. I take special care to close the door as quietly as possible before tiptoeing across the carpeted floors, feeling my way around in the dark so that I don’t trip over anything.

I make it halfway across the room when I hear it – it’s quiet, and if the air conditioner had been on, I wouldn’t have even heard it at all. It’s faint, so faint that I wonder if I’d imagined it, but then that same sound breaks through the silence and I know it’s not a product of my imagination.

I hear the covers rustle, and then a low moan followed by the distinct sound of skin on skin. My blood runs cold as the moans grow louder and more frequent, rolling off Spencer’s lips in rapid succession. There’s heavy breathing and whimpering and holy fuck I just walked in on Spencer Reid masturbating.

Spencer cries out a particularly load moan, one that sounds so pornographic that it shoots straight to my core. It’s sexy and dirty and he sounds absolutely wrecked, and the part of my brain that is still capable of logical thinking is screaming get out! Get out, now!

I begin to slowly backtrack, moving at one tenth of the speed that I had coming in because the possibility of being caught is absolutely not an option. If Spencer hates me now, he’d really hate me if he found out I snuck into his room at night and heard… that.

I’m about five feet away from the door when:

“O-Oh my God, yes! Y/N, please - fuck!”

I think then that I certainly have to be dreaming, because there’s no way I’d just heard him correctly. There’s no way that Spencer – the same Spencer that scurried out of the room when I walked in – was moaning my name while he touched himself. Absolutely not.

But then it happens again and again and again – my name falling from his lips incessantly like some kind of debauched chant.

It feels like my skin is on fire – my mind a befuddled mess – and before my brain can tell me what a terrible idea it is, my feet are carrying me back into the room and I’m coming to a stop at the foot of Spencer’s bed.

Bathed in the glow of the moonlight shining through the window, Spencer looks ethereal. There’s a thin line of sweat beading on his forehead, and his usually meticulously slicked back hair is fanned out on the pillow like some sort of halo. His teeth are nestled into his bottom lip now, and all that can be heard are tiny whimpers as his hand slides up and down underneath the bed sheets. Spencer’s always beautiful, almost painfully so. But the way he looks now, shadows dancing across his face as he works himself to orgasm, is infinitely more breathtaking than words can express.

It doesn’t take long for Spencer to release his lip from beneath his teeth, and when he does my name is flying out of his mouth once more.

I take that as my invitation to speak.

“I don’t think I’ve heard you say my name before.”

Spencer’s entire body stills and his eyes fly open to reveal two dark pools full of sheer panic.

“I-I can explain,” he stammers, moving to clutch the comforter to his chest in an attempt to cover himself.

I let out a hum and sit down on the edge of the bed.

“Please do. I’m very interested in hearing about just what you were picturing me doing.”

Spencer sucks in a harsh breath. I can practically see the wheels in his brain turning -desperately trying to concoct some kind of reasonable explanation.

“I-I… I don’t… I’m s-sorry,” he stutters, and it’s so adorable how he’s squirming underneath my gaze that I decide to help him out.

“Was I sucking you off? Or were you fucking me?” I wonder aloud. He tries to hide it, thinking the covers will mask the way that his hips buck up, but I definitely see it.

“I-I…”

“Which was it, Spencer? Was I taking you down my throat or were you fucking my pussy? Or maybe I was coming undone on your face – was that it?”

Spencer lets out a low groan, and if my patience hadn’t been running so fucking thin, I probably would’ve left it at that. But after the hell he’d put me through for the last six months, I feel like he deserved to squirm a little.

“Fucking answer me.”

“Y-You were, um… r-riding me. And you s-slapped m-me.”

Oh.

This just got a lot more interesting.

I raise an eyebrow at him and I can see the way his Adam’s apple bobs up and down as he gulps.

“So, you liked what you saw today, did you?”

Spencer nods so fervently that I have to bite down on my tongue to suppress a laugh.

“Words, baby. Use them.”

“I-I liked it. A lot.”

“Apparently so, seeing as you were moaning for it like a desperate little slut,” I breeze, my tone cool and indifferent. “Have you done this before, Doctor? Touched yourself to the thought of me, that is.”

“… Y-Yes. I’m s-sorry. I didn’t m-mean to. It just kind of happened one night, and once I started, I couldn’t s-stop.”

I reach out a hand and brush away the hair that had fallen into his face, tucking it back behind his ear before continuing.

“Why the cold shoulder, then? And here I thought you hated me,” I muse, before pausing and cocking my head to the side. “Do you hate me, Doctor?” I ask, and just when I thought he couldn’t look more guilty, he proves me wrong.

“No! I just… couldn’t be around you. I felt so b-bad. You were so nice, and I was using you to g-get off,” Spencer explains. “I couldn’t look you in the eye. Not after picturing you… like that.”

I let out a sigh. Knowing that Spencer didn’t actually hate me for the last six months was a relief. Knowing that Spencer was secretly rubbing one out to me was something else entirely. Whatever was I to do with this information?

“So, you want to fuck me, then?” I reiterate. “Why not tell me this sooner?”

“The probability of you responding positively to me telling you that I, uh, m-masturbate to you was very l-low. And after what I saw today, I think I was wise for keeping that from you,” Spencer says, the last part coming out in a rush. I can’t help but let out a low laugh.

“Yes, but the guy that was coming on to me today wasn’t someone I find attractive. He was pompous and crass and pushy - and you, Doctor Reid, are none of those things.”

“R-Really? You think I’m attractive?”

I hum.

“Very much so, Doctor. But I’m afraid you may have waited too long, and now I don’t feel as inclined to be nice,” I murmur, allowing my hand to trail down from his shoulder to his collar bones before lightly grazing his nipple with my thumb.

“O-Oh my… God,” Spencer whimpers, eyes fluttering shut as my fingers continue to dance across his skin.

“But then again, I don’t think you really want me to be nice to you. I think you want me to treat you like my little play thing.” I stop my hand just below his navel and I thumb across the light layer of hair that makes up his happy trail. “You want to be my dirty boy - don’t you, Doctor Reid?”

“P-Please,” Spencer chokes out, hips jerking up when I allow my thumb to graze a little lower.

“Please what?”

Spencer lets out a frustrated groan.

“Please, I-I want you to u-use me. However you want, just as l-long as you just do-don’t stop touching me,” he rambles. He’s shuddering underneath me, his breaths coming out in harsh pants as my hand wanders lower and lower until I abruptly pull away. “W-Why did you stop?”

“Because I don’t think you deserve to be touched just yet. You’ve got six months to make up to me, after all. I think I want you on your knees for me first,” I say, and from the way his eyes seem to dilate even further, I don’t think he has any objections. “Are you familiar with the color system?”

Spencer nods.

“Green for good, yellow means slow down, and red means stop now.”

“Do you have a safe word?”

“I… I’ve never really, uh. Done t-this.”

Oh. Oh.

I withdraw my hand from its place on his leg and Spencer lets out a distressed whine. “No, please! Don’t go. I’m not a complete virgin, I promise. I got a h-hand job once,” he argues. “And I think I’ve done enough, uh, research, and I really want to try to make you cum. I want to be good for you. Please let me try.”

Spencer looks like he’s about two seconds away from crying, and I can feel my argument dying before it even leaves my mouth.

“Oh, baby, I know you’d be so good,” I coo, and just like that Spencer’s leaning towards me, desperate to have the contact. I indulge him, placing my hand on his cheek, and he relaxes into the touch. “Are you sure you want to do this with me? I’m not what anyone would call vanilla, and I don’t think you know what you’re getting into.”

“I trust you. I wouldn’t want it to be anyone else,” Spencer whispers, and he sounds so damn sincere that I feel my resolve crumbling.

“You’ll let me know if at any point you want to stop?”

“Yes. Absolutely!”

Enthusiastic little shit.

“Safe word?”

“Um… Tolstoy?”

I let out a snort.

“Alright, smarty pants. We’re going to start now, okay?”

“Yes, Miss,” Spencer pants out.

Fuck me running. He clearly has been doing his research.

“Get on your knees for me, baby. I wanna see just how eager to please you are,” I instruct as I stand up and shimmy out of my shorts. I discard my shirt, too, absentmindedly throwing it somewhere across the room. Spencer lets out a startled squeak when he sees that I’m now completely naked, aside from my underwear.

“Y-You’re so pretty,” Spencer breathes out. “Even better than I imagined.”

The sentiment tugs at my heart, really, it does, but I specifically requested that he get on his knees and he seems a lot more content to just sit and stare.

“On your knees,” I command, and Spencer jumps up almost comically fast.

“S-Sorry, Miss,” he apologizes as he lowers himself down. I seat myself on the edge of the bed and spread my legs for him.

“Don’t apologize, just do as I ask of you, okay baby?”

Spencer nods.

“C-Can I kiss you? Like on the lips first?” Spencer asks as he looks up at me with big doe eyes. It’s a beautiful thing, the image of Spencer Reid sitting in between my legs, cheeks flushed and chest rapidly rising and falling. I give Spencer a sweet smile and lean forward, and the excitement radiating off of him is practically palpable. He leans forward, too eager to wait for me to close the gap, and the action makes my chest swell in adoration.

Just as our lips are about to meet, I pause, and Spencer barely has the time to look confused before my palm connects with the side of his face. The moan it draws out of him is obscene and his hips jolt forward, desperate for some kind of friction. His dick rests painfully hard between his legs, flushed red with precum beading at the tip.

I waste no time in taking his chin in my hand and tilting his head upwards.

“Did I say you could kiss me?” I ask him, voice sugary sweet, contrasting starkly with my actions.

“N-No, Miss. I’m sorry,” Spencer pants out. His hand twitches at his side and I can see how desperately he wants to touch himself, but his desire to please keeps him still.  

“Then the answer is no. Maybe if you can prove to me that you aren’t completely incompetent at eating pussy, I’ll consider it,” I allow a moment for my words to sink in. “Color?”

“Green. So fucking green,” Spencer whines.

“Good boy,” I praise him, and the effects of my words are instantaneous. Spencer rests his cheek against the skin of my thigh and then he’s nuzzling his face against me in a silent plea for permission. After a moment, his pleas become a lot less silent.

“Wanna be your good boy - please let me,” Spencer begs as his nose brushes against my skin. “I want to make you feel good. S’all I ever think about, since the first time I saw you.”

His words send a jolt of pleasure to my core and I reward his brazen honesty with a tender smile and a nod.

“Go ahead, baby. Let me see what that pretty mouth of yours can do.”

The words barely have time to leave my mouth before Spencer is reaching out and hooking a finger underneath the waistband of my panties. I raise up off the bed just enough for him to slide them down my legs, and before I even manage to settle back down onto the bed, Spencer literally dives in. He starts with one long lick, and by the time he reaches my clit he’s crying out lewd moans against me. The feel of the vibrations mixed with the feel of his mouth on me is maddening in the best possible way, and my eyelids threaten to flutter closed under the weight of my pleasure.

“Fuck, baby – you’re doing so good,” I sigh as I lift my hand up and card my fingers through his hair. “You look so pretty on your knees for me.”

Spencer’s movements stutter when he feels my hand tangle itself into his hair, and I let out a light chuckle. I grab hold of the roots and give an experimental tug. My actions cause his hips to jolt forward violently.

“O-Oh my…” Spencer keens, raising his glossy, lust filled eyes to mine. “H-Harder, please.”

I oblige, and Spencer lets out a particularly filthy groan before lapping at my pussy like a man possessed. His hands come to wrap around my thighs and he pulls me closer to him, causing me to let out a gasp when his nose nudges against my clit. The sound only spurs him on further – Spencer begins assaulting my clit, alternating between short, kitten licks and light sucking. The control I had so adamantly been asserting over him began to slip from my fingertips the longer he worked his mouth against me, and quiet, breathy moans started falling from my lips.

“Such a good boy, Spence,” I moan as I scratch my fingernails against his scalp. “You’re making me feel so good, baby. Love that dirty little mouth of yours.”

Spencer thrives on the praise – that much is made obvious by the way he whimpers and tightens his grip on my thighs. He’s completely submitted himself to the act of getting me off, only stopping long enough to cry out when my hands give a particularly harsh tug on his hair.

“Add a finger, baby,” I tell him, allowing my hand to drift down the side of his face, caressing the sharp angles of his cheekbones.

Spencer releases my thigh from his hold and tentatively raises a hand to my entrance, eyes raising to meet mine.

“You’ll tell me if I do something wrong?” he asks, and his concern is so endearing that I tilt his chin upwards and lean forward until my lips meet his.

Spencer gasps into the kiss, shocked, but it doesn’t take him long before his lips are moving against mine fervently. His lips are slick with my arousal, and I dart my tongue out just long enough to swipe it across his bottom lip.

           “D’you like how I taste, baby?” I murmur against his lips, pulling back slightly when Spencer tries to bring his lips down against mine.

           “S-So much,” he whispers, before letting out a frustrated groan when I tease him with the slightest brush of my lips before pulling away again. “P-Please, kiss me again.”

           I bump my nose against his before I reach down and grab his hand in mine.

           “Don’t be a greedy boy, Spencer. Greedy boys don’t get to cum,” I chastise him as I raise his hand up to my mouth. I trace my bottom lip with his pointer finger as Spencer watches on in rapt fascination, before taking the digit into my mouth and sucking. Spencer chokes out a pathetic cry and his hips hopelessly buck into the air as I swirl my tongue around the pad of his finger, taking special care to coat it with spit before releasing it from my mouth.

           I guide his hand back down to my pussy, gasping when the tip of his finger brushes across my entrance.

           “Just take it slow, baby. Start with one and move up to two once you get the hang of it.”

           Spencer nods, eyes alternating between my face and my entrance as he slowly slides his finger in me.

           “You’re so warm, oh my God,” Spencer breathes out, tentatively pulling out his finger before inserting it back in. I hum appreciatively as he begins to move faster, eyelids fluttering shut when he lowers his head and begins languidly licking my clit.

           “Feels so nice, Spence. I fucking love your fingers. Knew that they’d feel like this. I can only imagine how good your cock will feel,” I ramble, one hand fisted in the sheets and the other tugging on his honey brown hair.

           I groan as he inserts a second finger, reveling in the way he’s stretching me out.

           “Curl your fingers when you – fuck! Just like that, baby. Gonna make me cum if you keep doing t-that.”

Spencer speeds up both the onslaught of his fingers and his mouth at my admission, tongue working figure eights on my clit while his fingers brush up against my g-spot. A familiar warmth starts to spread in my lower belly, and with every swipe of Spencer’s tongue against my clit, the coil in my stomach winds tighter and tighter until, finally:

“O-Oh, fuck, Spence!”

The coil snaps, sending jolts of pleasure straight through my core. I can feel the way my walls tighten around Spencer’s fingers as my orgasm rips through me, never stopping their ministrations in an attempt to help me ride out my high. Vibrations ripple across my clit when Spencer lets out a cry of his own before his movements halt completely as shudders wrack his body.

I know he didn’t just…

           I allow myself a moment to recover before I lean forward and drag my eyes down Spencer’s slender frame – and sure enough, his tummy is covered in white ropes of cum and his now softening cock is hanging limply between his legs.

           Spencer’s eyes reluctantly open when his shudders cease, and one look at my pissy expression is enough to send him into a fit.

           “I-I didn’t mean to cum! I’m so sorry, Miss. It’s j-just that you looked so pretty when you came, and you taste so good! And you were pulling my hair, and you called me a good boy and I just couldn’t do it anymo-”

           “Shut up,” I seethe, voice cold and laced with annoyance. Spencer’s mouth snaps shut and he gulps. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but I don’t remember saying that you were allowed to come. Am I mistaken?”            “N-No, Miss.”

           “Mm, that’s what I thought,” I hum. “Stand up.”

           “B-But I want to make you cum again! Can I plea-”

           “Shut the fuck up and stand up, Spencer.”

           Spencer rushes to his feet, stumbling a bit when his legs begin to shake. He corrects himself, standing perfectly still in front of me with a shameful look on his face. I scoot back on the bed and fix him with a stony look.

           “I want you to lay on your stomach across my lap. Can you do that, Doctor Reid, or are you too stupid to follow simple directions?”

           Spencer adamantly shakes his head, scrambling to splay out across my bare thighs. Once he’s comfortable, I raise a palm to his bare ass cheek and smooth my hand across the skin.

           “Color?”

           “G-Green,” Spencer stutters out.

           “Wonderful. Since you’ve decided to be a greedy little slut and cum before I gave you permission, I’m going to punish you. Do you remember your safe word, baby?”

           “Tolstoy.”

           “Good boy. I’m going to give you ten, and I want you to count them out for me. One for every month you held out on me, and four because you’re an insolent little whore who can’t do as he’s told. Does that sound fair to you?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. P-Please.”

           A harsh smack sounds throughout the room, and Spencer lets out a whorish moan that’s bound to wake the people in the neighboring rooms. The pale skin of his ass transforms to red, and I rub my palm across it soothingly.

           “O-One,” Spencer says through gritted teeth as he rocks his hips against my legs.

           “You okay, baby?”

           “Y-Yes, Miss. Please don’t stop. I deserve it. P-Punish me, please.”

           My palm comes down across his ass four more times, and with each strike I watch Spencer fall apart right before my eyes. Tears are gliding down his flushed cheeks, and his cock is now painfully hard against my legs.

           “Five more to go, baby. Keep counting for me, my pretty boy.”

           By the time my hand comes down against his flesh for the final time, Spencer has devolved into a mess of pathetic whimpers. His cock is smearing precum across my thighs as he rocks against me, and his ass is covered in a litany of bright red marks. Incomprehensible pleas are falling from his lips, and his hands are tightly fisted in the sheets.

           I lean forward and place a gentle kiss to each of his battered cheeks.

           “T-Thank you, Miss. Thank you, thank you, thank you…”

           “You’re welcome, baby. Can you go lay in the center of the bed for me?”

           Spencer gives a feeble nod and crawls to the center of the bed, carefully laying himself down and letting out a low hiss when his ass came in contact with the mattress.

           I let him rest against the sheets before I roll over and settle in between his legs.

           Spencer’s cock, painfully hard and leaking precum, sits against his belly. Spencer watches as I trace lithe fingers up his thigh, his chest rising and falling quickly as I get closer to where he demands my attention.

           A garbled groan rips from his throat when my hand grasps his cock, and I have to place my other hand on his hip and force him back down onto the bed when he tries to buck up.

           “Stay still, baby,” I tut as I drag my fist up and down at an agonizingly slow pace.

           “S-Sorry, M-Miss,” Spencer stutters. His brows are drawn together and his eyes are heavy lidded. “Need m-more, please.”

           “Mm, I don’t think you need more. You just want more. Dumb little greedy baby,” I tease as my thumb swipes across his head.

           “Oh… G-God, please!” Spencer mewls.

           “Is what I’m giving you not good enough?”

           “N-No, it’s just-”

           I raise an eyebrow at him and halt my movements.

           “No, it isn’t good enough?”

           Spencer lets out a frustrated groan and his fists clench the sheets.

           “P-Please, Miss! I’ll be your good boy, I promise. Just let me cum, please, I want it so bad!”

           Thoroughly pleased by his shameless begging, I start moving my hand again.

           “Let me know when you’re about to cum, baby.”

           That moment comes when, not thirty seconds later, the muscles in Spencer’s abdomen start to spasm – telltale signs of an impending orgasm. Spencer is so lost in the way my hand is moving against his cock that he makes no move to warn me, and just as I see his eyes start to flutter shut, I withdraw my hand.

           “W-Why did yo-”

           “You didn’t tell me you were about to cum. I thought you said you were going to be a good boy, Spencer? You sure aren’t acting like someone who wants to cum.”

           “S-Sorry, please, just… fuck!”

           Spencer’s whole-body folds in on itself when my mouth wraps around the head of his cock. I swirl my tongue around the tip, lapping up the precum that had gathered before I pull away.

           “You’ve got such a pretty cock, baby. Can’t believe nobody’s had you in their mouth yet,” I murmur, pausing to drag my tongue along the veiny underside of his erection. “Let me hear you, baby. Wanna know how much you like when I use my mouth on you.”

           “Love it so much, oh God… Feels so warm and wet. Thank you so much, Miss. God, it feels perfect,” Spencer keens as I take him into my mouth again. Mumbled praises fall from his lips as I take him deeper, and the second my nose hits the soft skin of his belly, Spencer’s hand comes up and begins to tap incessantly on my shoulder.

           “S-Stop! I-I’m close – Jesus Christ, I’m so fucking close and I really want to cum inside you, i-if that’s okay with you,” Spencer babbles, eyes wide and pleading. I smile up at him.

           “Do you think you deserve to cum in my pussy?”

           “H-Honestly, no, but I’m hoping you’ll let me anyways,” Spencer says, shooting me an adorably shy smile that has my heart doing somersaults in my chest. I let out a light laugh and shake my head, moving to straddle his lap.

           “Are you sure you want to do this, Spence?” I murmur as I caress the side of his face with my hands. “This can stop right here, if you want it to.”

           “Please, Miss. I want this. I want you,” Spencer reiterates, eyes shining and filled to the brim with adoration.

           “Want you, too, baby. You can call me my name now, if you want,” I say as I place a gentle kiss on his lips. I move to pull away, but Spencer’s hand is quick to grasp the back of my neck and pull me back in.

           While our lips move together, frenzied and desperate, I sneak a hand in between our bodies and grab Spencer’s cock. He gasps into my mouth as I drag his head in between my folds.

           “I-I won’t last long,” Spencer chokes out, eyes trained on where I’m rubbing him against me. “I’ll try my b-best, but I’m sorry if I c-cum too fast.”

           I sink down just enough that his head is the only thing inside me, watching as his face contorts beautifully as a result.

           “Don’t worry about me, baby. Tonight’s all about you.”

           With one last, chaste kiss to his lips, I slowly begin to lower myself down onto his length. The sound of our moans fill the room as Spencer clings desperately to me, hands finally finding purchase on my hips.

           “Y/N, fuck, you feel so good,” Spencer whimpers as I begin to slowly rock against him. “I-I knew it would feel good, but oh my God. I-I can’t… I’m gonna cum, soon. M’so sorry.”

           His admission prompts me to move faster, raising my hips until he’s almost completely out of me before I’m slamming back down.

           “Spence, you feel so good. Such a good boy – my good boy.”

           “Yes, yes, I’m all yours! Only yours, please!” Spencer whines. I lean forward, and the change of angle is enough for both of us to cry out.

           “Are you gonna be a good boy and cum for me, Spence?” I murmur into his ear, biting lightly against his earlobe. “I want you to cum in me, baby. Don’t you want to be my good boy?” I punctuate my words by lightly wrapping my hand around this throat and squeezing, and that’s all it takes for Spencer to completely fall apart underneath me. 

           “Y/N - fuck!”

           Spencer’s grip on my hips tightens as he bucks up into me, painting the inside of my pussy with his cum as he yells out strangled exclamations of my name. He presses his face into my shoulder as I ride him through his orgasm, whispering quiet thank yous and pressing open mouthed kisses to my skin as the euphoria floods through his body.

             I place a kiss to his forehead before I crawl off of him, having every intention of getting up and procuring a wet washrag. But Spencer reaches out to grip my arm, and his eyes look so sad that I stop in my tracks.

           “C-Can you stay? Please?”

           The insecurity in his voice tugs at my heart.

           “Of course, I’m staying. Was just gonna get a wet washrag for us. M’not gonna leave you, Spence,” I murmur. Spencer visibly untenses, but his grip on my arm doesn’t lessen.

           “Could you just stay here a little bit longer?”

           “Sure thing, baby,” I say, prompting Spencer’s lips to pull up into a pleased smile. I crawl back into the bed and lay on my back, and Spencer instantly plasters himself to my side. He hums contentedly as he wraps his arms around me, and I let out a light laugh when I catch him stealing glances at me.

           “What is it, baby?”

           A rosy blush spreads across his cheeks.

           “Can I kiss you?”

           After everything we just did, he still feels the need to ask permission to kiss me. What a sweet boy.

           My answer comes in the form of me pressing my lips to his, and that’s how we stay until he pulls away.

           “I have another question,” he says shyly.

           “Lay it on me, baby.”

           The blush on his cheeks gets significantly more pronounced.

           “It’s just that, uh, you didn’t get to cum again. And I really want you to, because you took such good care of me,” Spencer pauses, and his fingertips lightly graze the inside of my thigh. “C-Could I please eat you out again?” Another pause, and he retracts his hand. “I-It’s okay if not. I understand if you just wanted this to be… a one-time thing. I guess I was just kind of hoping that it w-wouldn’t be. But that’s silly – you were just doing me a favor. I’m sorry I asked.”

           Spencer cringes as he finishes speaking, not even giving me a chance to reply before he’s trying to pull away. I tighten my grip on his arm, and Spencer gives me a weary look.

           “First of all, I don’t think I would ever say no to being eaten out – especially if you’re the one offering. Second, this is definitely not a one off. I have lots of plans for you, pretty boy,” I explain, and the relief that radiates off of Spencer is almost palpable.

           “Thank God,” he sighs, and then he’s scooting down the bed and settling in between my legs.

--

           And if the rest of the team notices the way Spencer starts following me around like a lost puppy - well, they’re all kind enough not to point it out.

[nxrthmizu]

Crash and Burn

fandom | miraculous ladybug

genre | salt, lila salt

pairing | n/a

w.c | 3.2k

author's note | hey remember that lila salt fic i promised? this isn't it but this is something i made today so yep. please accept this as an apology for yknow. me promising to write and. not doing it.

Enough was enough.

“Marinette, stop accusing Lila! She just wants to make friends!”

“Take the high road.”

“Be a good model student, Marinette.”

Enough. Was. Enough.

Marinette had the connections, the power, the choice to make Lila’s entire world crumble apart. The only thing that stood between the liar’s demise was the tiniest pinch of morality and self-restraint— And no, that self-restraint did not come in the form of Tikki. Even the kwami, who had to be an aggregation of all the good and nice things in the world, was fed up and ready to retaliate.

“What a joke.” Lila cackled, tossing a chunk of her sausage hair over her shoulder flamboyantly. The two girls were in the bathroom, with Lila smirking in front of the sink and Marinette a little distance away from her. “You can make my world crumble? What is this, a threat?”

“A promise.” Marinette corrected. “Stop telling lies. Come clean to every one. No more lying about knowing celebrities left and right, no more making excuses about not being able to take your own notes, no more making up ‘diseases’ just so your life gets a little more convenient. To be frank, I really don’t care what happens to you— But by making these empty promises to introduce my classmates to great ‘celebrities’, you’re ruining their futures. Stop.”

“And what are you going to do if I don’t?” Lila sneered, face twisted into an ugly grin. “You going to cry in front of the class? Try and convince them that I, the one they adore— That I am lying?”

“No.” Marinette’s eyes were clear when she met Lila’s. The clouds of self-doubt that used to hover over the bright, shining star inside her soul had now dissipated, letting the bluenette emit a confident, glowing appearance as she met the liar head on. “I’m just going to keep my promise.”

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila headed off to a modelling shoot after school, pleased at the prospect of spending more time with Adrien. There were a couple tendrils of Marinette’s words hanging behind in her mind— Did the girl mean what she said? Did she actually… Was she actually capable of causing Lila’s downfall? … Surely not. Marinette may have once been the ‘Everyday Ladybug’, but there was no way she was that competent, there was no way the girl was capable of plotting.

The Italian hummed, brushing away thoughts of the annoying bluenette from her mind. She was going on a photoshoot— One that was going cause the rise and burst of her career, the one that was going to make her name a globally-known one. Unfortunately for Lila, her plans were going to be derailed quite soon— In fact, as soon as Gabriel Agreste’s car rolled into the parking lot of the shoot location.

“Explain this, Mlle. Rossi.” Gabriel’s nostrils flared as he pointed to the tabloid article on his tablet. The Italian girl froze, the headlines seared into her eyes, big and black and bold, shooting poison right into the core of her body, paralysing her cell by cell starting from her heart. “What is the meaning of this?”

‘Adrien Agreste Reported To Be Harassed by Fellow Model’— The image under the caption was one that was clearly taken by a hidden photographer. The picture was framed with leafy foliage, which suggested that the camera was tucked up in a tree. Despite the distance, it was quite obvious in the image that Adrien was reeling away, disgusted and uncomfortable as a faceless woman in an orange blazer, back turned to the camera— Invaded his personal space.

The subtitle was the cream on the cupcake.

‘Witnesses State Gabriel Agreste Ignorant of Workplace Harassment’.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

As if things couldn’t quite go down a worser path, Lila returned home to a fuming mother and an unexpected visitor.

“Lila! You come here right this instant!” The diplomat demanded as soon as the front door opened, her daughter shrinking slightly at the tone and pitch that her mother was using. The last time her mother had been this angry— Well, it was when she got expelled from her last school. “I can’t believe what you’ve done! If it weren’t for your kind classmate, lord knows how long you would’ve continued with this!”

The Italian meekly followed her mother into the living room, eyes widening until they were as large as saucers, mouth agape at the last person she expected to see sitting on the couch.

Marinette smiled kindly, waving at the girl, looking every bit the part of the innocent, pure, kind child that every parent wanted to have. Before Lila could release a torrent of questions about what the hell Marinette Dupain-Cheng was doing in her living room, her mother charged on, beginning to take out her anger on her daughter while a literal angel sat on the sofa, cradling a box of pastries from her family’s bakery.

“Your friend here tells me that you’ve been taking absences from school to go on trips to help humanity!” Mme. Rossi exploded, waving her arms around madly. “She says she’s here to share her notes from the classes you’ve missed! You’ve never left Paris this year! What’s this I hear about flying off to the kingdom of— What was it called again, Marinette dear?”

“Achu.” Provided the bluenette helpfully, the diplomat’s expression instantly softening when she talked to the other teen in the living room.

“Ah, yes. Thank you, dear.” The woman turned back to her daughter, instantly snapping on a mask of anger in a matter of a fraction of a second. “What’s this about flying off to this kingdom of Achu to help homeless orphans with some random prince?”

“Um…” Lila piped up, wriggling as her brain churned at 200 lies per hour, trying to whip up a cover of some sort.

“I’m not done! Your friend here is such a helpful child that she even went as far as to ask her family doctor is there’s a cure for your… Lying disease!” Mme. Rossi practically roared, breathing flames as if she were an intimidating dragon, her daughter flinching away from the heat. “I’ve never heard of anything more ridiculous! And then there’s the fact that you lied to your classmates about having tinnitus?!”

“I actually do have tinnitus!” Lila cut in forcibly, widening her eyes to make herself look more pitiful. “I was just afraid to tell you because I didn’t want you to worry!”

“Bullshit!”

“Um… Sorry to interrupt, Mme. Rossi,” Marinette piped up, the diplomat instantly cooling down as she faced the bluenette, a soft smile tracing the Italian woman’s lips. “But it’s getting rather late and my parents would love me home soon. I also have some tests to revise for tonight, so I think I should get going.”

“Oh, of course, dear.” Mme. Rossi hastily got up to help the bluenette to the door, shooting a warning glare at her daughter— ‘Sit still and don’t you dare go anywhere’, the glare read. “Feel free to come over again anytime you want, dear. I’m not home often, but you are such a sweet child. I’m sure Lila could learn a lot from you.”

“Thanks for having me as well, Mme. Rossi. I really like your home. I left the pastries on the counter— Make sure to warm the curry puffs before you eat them.” Marinette returned the smile, bowing slightly to the older woman as a sign of respect.

“Thank you for the pastries as well, Marinette. I ought to visit your parents’ bakery sometime when I’m free.” Mme. Rossi opened the door kindly for the bluenette, waving the girl off with an affectionate smile. Her parents must be so lucky to have such a sweet little thing like her, Mme. Rossi sighed internally, turning the key so she locked the door. And she seems to be a high-scoring student as well.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

Lila seethed, having been grounded by her mother. As far as Mme. Rossi was concerned, there was a boarding school not too far away from their current residence, and by the next week, the Italian girl would be transferred over. Lila had never hated Dupain-Cheng as much as she did in that moment.

Still furious, the Italian snapped her laptop open, too angry to bother with the fact she might’ve scratched the surface. Clicking into the web browser, she started to type in the words ‘Ladyblog’— That was, before a news article caught her eye.

‘Jagged Stone Interview Reveals Underage, Obsessed Fan’.

What on Earth…

As soon as Lila clicked into the link, the news footage from the interview immediately begin to play. The date stamp on it showed that it had aired last night— Which meant that she would’ve missed it, since her mother was too busy yelling at her to turn on the television to watch Nadja Chamack’s daily news.

“As soon as I heard this rumour about some underage teenage girl claiming that she had saved my cat on an airport runway, I called Penny and asked her to book a slot for me to clarify this,” Jagged Stone said grimly, dressed in more formal attire as he sat in the comfortable, cushioned chair of the news station, with Nadja nodding equally seriously beside him. “Let me clarify— I’ve never owned a cat. I’m allergic to fur. The only pet I’ve had was Fang, and he’s an al-li-ga-tor. Not a cat. Whatever the girl is claiming, she’s obsessed and making up stories.”

“It’s also kind of bewildering that she saved it on an airport runway,” Nadja continued, shaking her head in disappointment. “That kind of thing only happens in dramas— It’s too dangerous for anyone besides authorised workers to be on airport runways.”

“Right, right!” Jagged agreed instantly. “The whole rumour is just really baffling.”

“M. Jagged, may I ask what kind of effect these rumours have on a celebrities’ career?” Nadja continued, leading the conversation on like a professional.

“Well, rumours that circulate around tend to have really bad effects, and the worse ones can hang around for a long, long time. Tabloids are often spun off from rumours, baseless and with no evidence. Those tabloids will never truly disappear, so they can leave a mark on a celebrity’s reputation as some people will believe anything— Even things they read from un-cited tabloids.”

“That is simply terrible. Have you ever had any cases of rumours created by underaged teens before this?”

“I’ve had quite a number, but none of them really got as big as this one. From what Penny has found from digging around, the teen girl managed to spread the rumour through her school and onto a once-popular blog.” Jagged explained. “Penny has also found out that the same girl has claimed that I’ve written songs for her to thank her for saving my cat! I would never write songs and dedicate them to an underaged girl— Trust me. If I could do such a thing, I’d already have written a dozen in honour of my niece— She’s my favourite designer.”

Nadja smiled at that sentence. “Then—“

The news footage cut off abruptly as Lila slammed her laptop shut, too upset to continue watching.

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

On the other side of Paris, Alya was pacing around her room frantically, wondering why on earth Lila wasn’t picking up on her calls. She’d left at least four dozen messages to the Italian, who was absent from school that day. There had been a couple whispers here and there about why she was missing— Rose had suggested another impromptu trip to Achu.

Lila’s absence wasn’t the weirdest part of the day, however.

That award would go to Marinette, who walked into class with a smile, the slightest sprinkles of delight colouring her bluebell eyes when she spotted Lila’s empty seat.

Growing in frustration, Alya threw herself onto her bed, phone clattering onto the mattress with her. Within the next few minutes, however, her phone suddenly started exploding with notifications. Excited at the prospect of Lila finally texting back, Alya turned on her phone, only to be disappointed by the notifications all clamouring from the class group chat.

Kim had sent a link to the chat— Without hesitation, Alya clicked into it, frowning when she saw Nadja and Jagged appear on the screen. Throughout the interview, the colour on the Ladyblogger’s face only paled by the second until she was as white as a sheet, and if it were halloween at that time, she would’ve won the best costume award for being a ghost.

There must… There must’ve been a mistake.

A notification from Lila’s number made the blogger perk up, instantly clicking into the conversation— But her newfound hope didn’t last very long.

[Lila]

Hi, Alya. This is Lila’s mom. She’s currently grounded right now. Is there anything important you need to tell her?

[Alya]

Oh, nothing much… I just wanted to ask where she was.

[Lila]

She’s at home.

[Alya]

Okay, thanks.

Flopping onto her bed, Alya begin thinking, revising over the past few months like it was an old clip. Lila’s exciting adventures and interactions with celebrities of every kind— Lila going overseas and face timing the entire class— Lila letting her in on the secrets of being Ladybug’s friend…

… Marinette trying to tell them that Lila was lying…

──────── ⋆⋅❉⋅⋆ ────────

The class was awfully silent the next day. Adrien was absent as well— A social worker was looking into his home life as a result of the tabloid that arose. Things for the blonde could either get better or worse from then on, as the matters were still foggy and things hadn’t cleared up yet. The blonde maintained contact with his friends, however, calling and texting them whenever he could.

“Class, settle down.” Mlle. Bustier stepped into the class, looking very tense and uncomfortable. “Today, we will have a guest, so please be on your best behaviours, alright?”

Just as the teacher finished speaking, a tall, regal-looking Italian woman entered the classroom, a cowering principal and a meek-looking Lila in tow. The class brightened slightly at the sight of their friend— But by the way she wasn’t looking into their eyes… Things weren’t going to be good.

“Good morning. I am Mme. Rossi, Lila’s mother.” The woman begin speaking, her firm and no-nonsense tone instantly making every student sit straight, their eyes too afraid to look anywhere else but the Italian diplomat. “It has come to my attention that my daughter has been taking absences from school to do charity work— And I have to clarify that this is a lie. Lila has been doing nothing but holing herself up in her room, lying to me and saying that there are no classes due to akumas.” The Italian diplomat glowered at Damocles. “What’s even more baffling is the fact that neither her homeroom nor the principal bothered to check up with me despite a student having extended periods of absence with no note or email written whatsoever.”

The class was so quiet that they could hear the quiver of Mlle. Bustier’s trembling lip.

“In addition, I’ve been kindly told that Lila has claimed to have a lying disease, which is the most ridiculous thing I’ve heard this week.” It was impossible to miss the way the Italian diplomat was glaring daggers at both Mlle. Bustier and Damocles. “No one bothered to look it up online to see if it’s actual disorder, nor did anyone call me to confirm and ask for a doctor’s note, which is standard procedure.” Chills burst over the room, making every one shiver as the woman hissed out her words.

“Mme. Rossi, we didn’t want to disturb your busy schedule—” Damocles begin, only to be blown backwards from the sheer intensity of Mme. Rossi’s glower.

“M. Damocles, standard procedures exist for a reason. Unless you’d like to tell me about any other things you’ve been letting my daughter get away with?”

“N— No, Mme.”

The Italian diplomat continued on her war path. “My daughter also claimed to have tinnitus, am I correct?”

“Y— Yes, Mme.” Mlle. Bustier answered when it seemed like no one was going to.

“And I heard that the class seating arrangement was shifted to accommodate for that?” The homeroom teacher didn’t dare answer this time, for it seemed like whatever she said would be the incorrect answer. “And apparently, my daughter has also been faking broken wrists and requesting for her classmates to complete her work for her.” Mme. Rossi was practically breathing flames at that point, “And I am incredibly upset at the lack of action from the homeroom teacher.”

No one could breath.

“I have many concerns about the running of this schooling facility, and I expect to discuss this with M. Damocles privately after this. However, there is still something to be done.” Mme. Rossi swept her gaze towards her daughter, who found the floor incredibly interesting at that point of time. “Lila? Something you’d like to say to your classmates?”

“… I’m sorry for lying to you.” Lila mumbled resentfully.

“Louder, Lila. No one can hear you.”

“I’m sorry for lying to you!” Lila swallowed, bursting like an explosion that had finally been triggered, tears in her eyes and fists hatefully curled. “I’m sorry for lying about my diseases and injuries. I’m sorry for making you do my work,” She spat. “Sorry for causing any inconveniences.”

Mme. Rossi raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Is that all?”

Lila glared at her mother, who was completely unfazed. “Oh, so you want an apology from me? Fine!” She turned to the class, a maniacal glint in her eyes as she sneered at the class, a few gasps puffing from around the room as they caught their first glimpse of the liar that resided in the ‘harmless’ shell of Lila Rossi. “I’m sorry that you are all such idiots that you all fell for everything. I’m sorry that Marinette has such terrible, untrusting classmates that turned their backs on her even though she was still a goody-two shoes till the end, even though she still wanted to help you sorry peasants. I’m sorry that you were all so goddamn gullible! There! Good enough for you?”

Shock was etched into the faces of every human in the classroom— Including Mlle. Bustier, M. Damocles, and Mme. Rossi themselves. Clearly, that part of the apology had not been part of the plan.

“Did I miss something?” Said a sweet voice, followed by the presence of a bluenette, her hair tied in a half-up. A royal blue blazer decorated her lithe form, accompanied by a smart-looking white blouse and a black plaited skirt. Formal had never looked so good on anyone— And if someone didn't know better, they'd think that the bluenette was a young lawyer, emerging victorious from her first successful case.

“Marinette!” Alya exclaimed.

“I’m sorry that you’re such an annoying, little, pest.” Lila bit in the girl’s face, disdain colouring her features as she ignored her mother’s enraged gasp behind her.

The bluenette simply smiled, unaffected by the liar who had crashed and burned like the liar once wished upon her. Marinette Dupain-Cheng stood at her full height, the perfect image of grace and poise as she maintained her composure, quite unlike her nemesis, who thrashed under her mother’s restraining hands.

“And I’m sorry that you didn’t take my promise to heart.”

this can count as adrien redemption depending on you cause ehhh i dont like how passive he is but i havent caught up with the recent episodes, he might have become better. idk.

also where the hell is my miraculous taglist i cant find it so eep. no tagging ppl ig oops

[neon-junkie]

Ok so going off the fic with the batch taking your suppressors every once in a while, how would they be if you wind up going into heat? Would they do like a group session or assuming the heat takes a few days would they take turns? You've got this thought living in my head rent free

I do plan on writing a full fic where you go into heat, but for now, here are some thoughts. (gender-neutral reader)

I was meant to briefly write a few things for this, but uh, this is 2k words... sorry, not sorry hehe.

---

So, it all comes down to what your heat is actually like. Is it a single day thing? Does it last for a few days? Are you somewhat stable? Or are you a complete and utter mess? Are you whiny and desperate? Or snappy and demanding? So many factors to consider!

Either way, the Batch is going to help. They'll do a mixture between a group session, and taking it in turns. They chalk up a rota, and spend a few hours with you every day, taking care of your needs, however you see fit.

The first shift is spent with Hunter, of course. He's going into this blind, just like everybody else, since Tech can only find so much about your heats. You've not had one in years, so you're also uncertain on how things will go.

Hunter is extremely caring. He's heavily concerned, not just for your physical needs, but for your mental wellbeing. Hunter needs to make sure that your heat doesn't scramble your brain too much, and the second you show signs of things becoming overwhelming, he's there.

At first, he attempts to be calm and caring. He'll fetch water when needed, and ensures that you're eating, whenever you can stomach food. Hunter won't come onto you until you ask, and even then, he's still soft and gentle. Fuck, he's worried he's going to hurt you - you're hyper sensitive right now, so every touch feels tenfold.

It isn't until Hunter removes your underwear that he realises just how bad you are. Fucking hell, you stink, and Hunter has to shut his eyes and let out a deep breath as he attempts to calm himself. Curse his heightened senses, they're really not helping right now.

He wants to relieve you with his fingers and mouth, he wants to hold back as much as possible, but no matter what he does, it's not enough. You need to be full, over-flowing, stuffed to the brim, and after hours of listening to you beg, he finally snaps. Hunter swiftly fees his cock, leaving the rest of his armour still on, and pulls your knees up over his shoulders. He folds you in half, mating press style, and lets out a heavy sigh as he slides into your slick heat.

Even now, Hunter's trying so hard to be careful and gentle, but you're clawing at his armoured back, whining and moaning his name, and he decides that fuck it, he's going to pound this heat out of you, or at least attempt to. Hunter manages to keep you busy for a few rounds, enough to stabilise your heat for a few hours, until he eventually has to tap out from exhaustion.

His shift is up, thank the Maker, and he crawls back to his room due to exhaustion, leaving poor Echo to take over where he's left off.

Echo, like Hunter, attempts to be calming and gentle with you. It doesn't take a genius to realise that Hunter's just spent the last few hours tending to your needs, mainly because the air stinks of sex, but for now, you're stable.

Echo has a nap with you, letting you curl up against his chest, huddled under the warmth of your blankets. Thankfully, you manage to get some rest, only to wake up hours later with that throbbing pain between your thighs again. Your whimpers wake Echo up, and he's greeted to the sight of you mewling in his arms, grinding yourself against his thigh as your heat worsens as every second passes.

Sadly, Echo isn't entirely sure what to do. He's not hooked up with anyone since before Skako Minor, and despite not losing his cock in the blast, he hasn't really touched himself since then. He considers himself to be inexperienced, somewhat of a virgin, and he can't keep eye contact as he explains that to you. However, he insists that he wants to help, he just needs you to take the lead.

Despite the overwhelming desire to mate, you manage to suppress your needs, enough to give Echo the reassurance that he requires. This time, you're the one being gentle as you straddle him, slowly undressing him whilst you make out. Echo is the one whimpering as you slide down onto him, holding yourself steady until he gives you the signal to move.

Fuck, you're aching, burning up between your thighs, but you continue fighting your natural urges. Echo notices this, and encourages you to pick up the pace, telling you that he's content and relaxed with how things are going. You trust him, and you know that if he needs you to stop, he'll tell you to. With that knowledge in mind, you pick up your pace.

To your surprise, Echo begins bucking up into you. Your heat is so damn tight, wet, slick, and ah- Echo only manages to last a single round. Knowing that you're aching right now, he swiftly cleans himself up, and leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead as he tells you that he's going to get you more help.

Tech is surprisingly not on his holopad as he enters your room. He's somewhat formal, informing you that he's here to tend to your needs, and help however possible. You're biting back a laugh, but your cheeky smile is wiped off your face as Tech shows you the little device that he's been working on this whole time.

It's some sort of vibrator. You're able to attach it wherever you need it to go, and Tech helps fasten it in place, smirking to himself when the device turns on, and you instantly let out a groan. It's perfect, stimulating you enough to keep most of the heat down, but you're still aching to be filled up.

Tech has no problem filling in that role, and informs you that mating press is the perfect position to hit all the right spots. He swiftly strips down before manhandling you into position, and wastes no time sliding into you, letting out a groan as his cock begins filling you up. Of course, Tech's thrusts are calculated and accurate, paying attention to how you react to different angles, speeds, and so on. You tell him exactly what you want, and Tech delivers.

With Tech's accuracy, and the vibrating device working away, you reach peak multiple times, as does Tech. He fills you up, over and over, until you're overflowing with his (and the others) loads. Tech can't help but push his leaking release back into your hole, making a smug comment about how you seem to be so desperate to be filled up, yet you can't even hold onto what he gives you? Tut tut.

He's sweating by the time you two are finished, both out of breath, exhausted, and somewhat stable. Tech makes quick work of cleaning both of you up, and doesn't bother redressing as he crawls into your bed, pulling you tightly against his chest. Your heat is far from over, but for now, you can enjoy some more rest, before the next Batcher comes along to tend to your needs.

Wrecker is up next, and thankfully, he brings food! Haven just woken up, your heat hasn't returned to its agonizing state, so for now, you can enjoy some snacks whilst you and Wrecker mindlessly chat away.

After snacks and a cuddle, your heat begins building up once more, and Wrecker seems surprisingly eager to help you out. You've spent the last day being pounded over and over, leaving your hole open and leaking, giving Wrecker an advantage when he slips his thick cock into you. The others have filled you up perfectly, but Wrecker is something else, boarder lining painful. He remains still as you adjust to his size, and when you're ready, he goes slow.

However, Wrecker holding back and going slow only seems to make you worse, and you practically have to beg to get him to speed up. He knows he's big, and he doesn't want to hurt you, but seeing as you're almost in tears from the sensation between your thighs, Wrecker decides to pick up the pace.

When Wrecker delivers, he delivers, and goes above and beyond to help you out in any way possible. He's worth the stretch, and his massive frame is doing things to you, peering up through your hazy eyes to see nothing but Wrecker, towering over you, keeping you pinned beneath him as he fucks you senseless.

Wrecker's grunting and moaning as he cums, and he only needs to stop for a few, brief seconds before picking up speed again. How he can fuck like this is a mystery to you, but you're not going to ask questions, especially when you're this cock-dumb.

Finally, after hours of progress, and days of your overall heat, the burn is slowly starting to settle down, and it's only taken four men to help you out! Wreckers' load spill out of you when he finally pulls out - not like your bed isn't already soaked. He wraps you in a blanket and settles you on the floor as he pulls on some light clothing and strips your bedding, insisting on cleaning up before the final person takes over his shift.

When your bed is remade, you're left bundled up in it, and Wrecker ensures that he's smothered you in more than enough kisses before leaving your room.

Crosshair takes a while to arrive, and you almost drift back to sleep whilst waiting. He's brought you some water, and helps you up as he hands it over. He doesn't say anything, at first, but when he finally speaks, all he tells you is that your room stinks. Like, it reeks, and it's drifted out and smothered the entire ship. Crosshair is laughing as he tells you that Hunter has had to camp outside, as the smell is really getting to him, but Crosshair is here to finish things off.

Crosshair makes a comment about how you've saved the best for last, and places the kindest, most tender kiss you've ever felt on your temple, before he shrugs the blanket to you and gets to work. Whilst the others have been gentle in their own ways, Crosshair isn't - he knows what you need, and he's insistent that he's going to be the one who fucks this heat out of you.

Crosshair wants you on all fours, head down, ass up, wrists pinned behind your back. You're still stretched out from Wrecker's thick length, and Crosshair's chuckling as he slides in, making comments about how fucked out you are, about how you need five different men to satisfy you, about how needy and forgetful you must be if you forgot to take your supplements.

As Crosshair's pounding into you, you can feel everybody's previous loads being pushed from your hole, dripping onto the bed. Ugh, the covers are going to need changing again, but that chore disappears from your mind as Crosshair slips two of his fingers in alongside his cock, fingering you as he fucks you in an attempt to keep you full.

He can't help but make even more comments, both praising and mocking you for how well you're taking his fingers and cock. After the first set of orgasms, Crosshair flips both of your bodies over, and lays back on your bed. He has you lie on him, your back against his chest, and he holds your legs up against your shoulders as he begins fucking up into you.

Crosshair is grunting against your ear, leaving the occasional mark on your neck. He's not holding back - why would he? This is what you need, and Crosshair's here to supply it. One hand moves from your legs and wraps around your throat, whilst the other slips between your thighs to touch you feverishly. He's ordering you to cum for him, demanding it, and the final orgasm that you have almost causes you to black out.

During your hazy, fucked-out state, Crosshair carefully rolls you off him, and begins taking care of you. He cleans you up, helps you put some light clothing on, and curls up into bed beside you. Crosshair's large frame wraps snugly around you as he takes the position of big spoon, planting gentle kisses on your shoulder as he asks how you're feeling.

Finally, your heat is over, and now comes the following soreness from being fucked silly over the past few days. Oh well, it was fun, and maybe now you'll learn to take your supplements regularly?

[mylordshesacactus]

Hope things get better. Here’s a cat for you to pet 🐈

I have never played D&D, though I have done some very casual RP’ing online. I was invited to join a D&D group a while back but the learning curve seemed really intimidating and I had other things going on at the time. I wasn’t really feeling comfortable with the dynamics of that particular group either. Do you have any wisdom to impart to first time players?

It's not as intimidating as it seems! However, definitely find a DM you feel comfortable with--and a DM, and group, where you feel totally comfortable saying "hey, I'm super new and I need a crash course and patience" because you know you'll get enthusiastic support.

Like....I have a 5-person party, and 2/5 of them are complete newbies who'd never played a tabletop RPG before, never watched a D&D show or streamed campaign or anything, had no frame of reference at all.

They've been an absolute JOY to play with, and I've had a BLAST being their first DM and being able to introduce them to the mechanics. And they keep saying they like my DMing style and are having fun, so I've gotta believe them on that!

I think my general advice is threefold:

Find a DM who's happy, not just accepting, about having new players and helping you get your sea legs.

Start with a low-level adventure so your brain doesn't explode

Try to know what you're interested in!

So, in order, and under a readmore because it got long:

Find A DM Who Loves Working With Newbies

New players deserve a DM who's thrilled to have them! They deserve a DM who's excited to share something they love!

However, it's completely fine for a DM to say "hey, so, this campaign is really gonna be aimed toward experienced players" and to run campaigns for experienced players. DMs may want to make full use of obscure mechanics, or work with a bunch of house rules or homebrewed mechanics (the next campaign I'm planning is going to HEAVILY involve some homebrew nautical mechanics), or just want to have extremely tactical combat that's just not gonna be newbie-friendly.

The responsible and kind thing to do is to not place a new player in a situation where they're going to be overwhelmed and frustrated, and sour them on D&D as a whole. That's good DMing! It just means the campaign isn't a good match for your needs.

Most campaigns, honestly, can be very friendly to new players. I didn't design the Suncrest campaign with the intent that it would be "a newbie-friendly campaign TM". I just...designed an interesting campaign with the intent that it would start at level 1 and end and Wherever We End Up but probably around level 15-17. But even if there's no actual aspects that make a campaign inappropriate for a new player...if a DM views playing with you as work, or a sacrifice? That's a bad table for you.

Most DMs will be delighted that you want to play their game. The rush of joy when I got to help someone design their first D&D character? The fact that I got to be there the first time they rolled a natural 20, or killed their first monster? That was amazing. It was the most fun I've had in a long time.

It does take a little more work, though. My "session zero", a formality that I honestly might not otherwise have bothered with since all the information typically shared in a session zero had been talked over in our dedicated campaign server in the month leading up to the game starting, was 75% a crash course in D&D mechanics for the benefit of the newbies. It was completely optional for everyone but we got some experienced players joining us just for fun. We had a great time! It involved sitting down with their character sheets, making sure everything was filled out properly, explaining the difference dice and how spellcasting worked, and then running some stakes-free rounds of combat before the game.

Basically, I ran a tutorial level for them.

Not every DM is up to teaching! That's fine, and again, if they know that they don't have the skills or patience to walk someone through the very very basics, then the responsible thing to do is be honest about that--but jesus, do it without blaming people for being new! Frankly, the books are DENSE and overwhelming and hard to retain information from, and needing something shown to you before you get it is normal.

Find A Low-Level Campaign To Start

Speaking of the high barrier to entry in those dense books--the learning curve is a lot sharper the higher level you start. Having to prepare five to ten levels' worth of abilities, hitpoints, spell slots, weapons, equipment purchases, magic items, etc, ready to go from Day One, with no context or prior experience telling you what may or may not be useful?

That's choice paralysis at its finest! For a beginning player, you'll probably want a campaign that starts as close to level 1 as you can get. Lots of DMs don't like starting AT level 1 because, for example, you pretty much always end up levelling up right after Session 1, so it's easy to say there's no point. I disagree, but then, I like running low-level campaigns!

(It can also depend on the tone or the setting; if the campaign or module they're running requires an established group of experienced adventurers, it'd be weird to start at level 1 where you've got like, ten hitpoints and two abilities. However, having only ten hitpoints and two abilities is a BOON if you've never managed hitpoints or abilities in a TTRPG before!)

It's worth it, however, to clarify with a potential DM how deadly their encounters tend to be if they're running at low levels. For a lot of D&D groups, there's an unspoken assumption that if you're running a low-level campaign, a few PCs are expected to die. This may or may not be what you're looking for.

This ties into advice #3, namely:

Try To Know What You're Interested In

Now, this is kind of a big ask when the whole point is that you've never played before!

Obviously you don't know specifics, like whether you like spellcasters or whatever. You may not even be sure you know what kind of campaigns you're interested--people toss descriptions around all the time. You may not know anything about the different Official Settings! I honestly don't! I prefer to homebrew my settings! What does "low-magic" mean in this context? You don't know! You've never played! You have no idea whether you'd prefer that or not!

But you know what interests you about D&D. You know why you want to play.

Do you want to do mostly social encounters--what people call "roleplaying" (protip: EVERYTHING is roleplaying. Choosing your tactics, describing your attacks in combat, the order in which you explore a ruin, these things are all roleplaying)? Do you mostly just want to run dungeons--roll dice, cast spells, use weapons, fight monsters, get loot, rinse, repeat? Do you want a balance between those things?

What about character focus? Do you want a game that's ALL about personal growth and each character's goals with little overarching plot, one in which backstory is there solely for flavor, or something in the middle, where personal arcs are relevant but the overarching plot takes priority? What about the level of investment in character depth? There are, like I said, tables where they expect extremely deadly encounters and where it is assumed that multiple PCs will die by halfway through the campaign. There are tables that run very low-risk campaigns where there's an unspoken understanding that this is mostly a character-focused story, and that while the DM won't protect you from your own bad decisions, unless you actively put your character in clearly-telegraphed danger, it's likely that nothing will happen to them and resurrection magic is easily available regardless.

Most people prefer a balance--a game where the challenges are real (or else there's no satisfaction in overcoming them) and the risks are genuine, but where there's no....stigma, to being emotionally invested in your character and potentially devastated by their loss. This is the kind of game I run--I believe very firmly that the social contract of D&D is that it's my job to create real challenges with real dangers, but that as a trade-off, it's also my job to ensure that character deaths are meaningful. They'll be given weight and significance.

If any of my players' PCs die right now, it's very unlikely that they'll be able to resurrect them--they're level 6, they don't have that kind of money or power. And if any of my players' PCs die right now...I'm not going to fudge rolls or lie to save them, because that robs them of the story they're telling and the significance of their decisions. But I can make the death mean something, and I can make sure that the narrative remembers the fallen character, and I can certainly make sure that the PLAYER is taken care of. I find DMs whose approach is "immediately have them roll up a new character right there in session and get them back in the action, this is D&D, character death happens, move on" really off-putting.

But there's nothing WRONG with running meat-grinder dungeons or high-death-toll games! You just need to be on the same page about what the campaign is going to be like. Same as making sure everyone understands what the "rating" is and what kind of content is or is not acceptable in the game.

So, yeah! Communicate about what kind of game it's going to be, lower the barrier of entry for yourself as much as possible, and shop around until you find a campaign and a gaming group that feels right!

I guarantee it exists, and they'll be as thrilled to find you as you are to find them.

A D&D campaign can last for years, and the characters you create for them can stick with you for a lifetime. It's worth it to spend the time and energy making sure it's a good experience.