#I keep being afraid of using programming

[stillboredbuttrying]

I finally decided to download my Spotify music so that I could stop using it, and after a day wasted in trying all the online downloader and a couple of programs, I forced myself to be smart and use python.

It took one (1) line of code in python and copy pasting two things from the website. It was literally easier than any other method and it worked so much better. I downloaded over 2000 songs. It recognises the ones that are double so you only have one. It did 2000 all by itself, not 1 at a time or 100 at a time. It's completely free.

The existence of Github prove by itself that humans are not inherently selfish.

[apatheticsunday]

Dead on Main Sugar Daddy

AKA "Ghost King Danny unintentionally becomes Jason "Gaslight, Gatekeep, Girlboss" Todd's sugar daddy" prompt!

This is kind of a continuation of Graveyard Favors, but not really lmao.

I just love the idea of Jason coming back from the dead, wearing all Expensive Clothes and literally ancient cursed jewelry, and Bruce is just like, "Where did you get that? I didn't buy it for you. You haven't used your allowance either?" And Jason's obviously not going to admit he has the High King of Infinite Realms, Space, and the Dead as a sugar daddy. (Maybe he would, he's a dramatic theatre kid at heart, but it's funnier if he just straight up lies.)

He says, "I'm literally a crime lord, old man, keep up?? Jesus."

But the more he thinks about it, the more he actually likes the idea. Jason wants to help people, make sure they never experience the same fate he did, and where else to do it than the place he grew up? He knows there are tons of kids he can help, families who have a lack of resources. He's not afraid to get his hands dirty - he's already killed the Joker.

So, Jason calls up his Ghost King sugar daddy, points to Crime Alley, and is like, "I want that."

Danny, in Tucker's ratty Amity-U hoodie and ripped jeans, cheesepuff sticking halfway out of his mouth, "What???"

Danny declares Crime Alley as Jason's Haunt. It's officially Jason's territory in both the human realm and the Ghost Zome; conveniently, that also means that no supernatural (dead or alive) can enter the territory without Jason knowing. It also makes Crime Alley emit major Do Not vibes. Bad guys feel this Dread of being watched constantly, residents feel a bit safer knowing there's somebody who will help if they're in danger, and Jason patrols often enough that everybody starts to associate him as the local crime lord. He also uses Danny's money to invest in some social programs in Crime Alley, like open access food pantries, shelters, domestic violence & sexual assault support, a community garden, little libraries, funding for after school activities, etc.

Because the former Ghost King is absolutely loaded. Danny has eons of old stuff piled in his throne room in the Ghost Zone from Aztec Gold to alien technology. He's not using it and nobody's gonna miss it, so if Jason asks for it, Danny gives it to him. (Does he know Jason is selling it for an absolute shitton of money? Maybe, maybe not. He doesn't really care where it ends up as long as it won't cause the apocalypse.)

So, yeah, that's how Jason actually becomes the crime lord of Crime Alley.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

May I request Catnap who basically adopted a child!reader who is anyways sleepy and lazy. and has a case of not remembering a lot of things, like dementia

Like through the hour of joy...After all the Toys killed the workers. Catnap finds the reader, who is sleeping then wakes up and the reader forgets their own parents(The readers parents were cold scientists that worked at Poppy Playtime and never cared about them, then got killed through the hour of joy)

Sooooooo...Catnap just kinda takes care of the reader and has a slight soft spot for them. And the reader THINKS that Catnap is their parent and anyways clings to him

During the Hour of Joy, Catnap remained on the prowl for any potential survivors of the massacre within Playcare, flinging one man's body into the stairs and cutting his cries for mercy short.

All was quiet, save for the faint screams of the other workers/visitors in other part of the facility who were being mauled to death.

But he let the rest of the toys do their work.

He felt cleansed. The Prototype willed this rebellion. Willed him to finally kill his tormentors.

The "hour" went on for so much longer--considering that he utilized his red smoke to make the fleeing humans hallucinate and freak out at things that didn't exist (some even attacking each other).

Once it was all done, Catnap went back into Home Sweet Home to discover a child who (somehow) slept through the slaughter.

That was you, one of the orphans who was in the program for a long, long time.

You were deemed "ineligible" for experimentation after getting the lowest scores on all three tests at the Game Station.

That's because you struggled with memory, socialization, and endurance. You tend to forget a lot of things (ie faces) and spent most of your days sleeping instead of playing or learning....and no counselor has been able to figure out why.

Your parents--who were scientists at Playtime Co. that preferred studying you over nurturing you--chalked it up to over-exposure to the red smoke (which hasn't been proven true, but they needed to put something down on paper).

Regardless, they've kept their distance from you and slated you for adoption, thinking you'll be picked up by a different parent eventually.

Unfortunately for them...Catnap knows that they're using the orphanage as an "excuse" to get rid of you and gives them a brutal demise.

They had some nerve crying out for you and begging him to spare your life.

After winding down from his bloodlust, he discovers you sound asleep on one of the bunk beds inside HSH, apparently not hearing a single thing.

Then you wake up and see this giant emaciated purple cat standing over you, claws and mouth stained in fresh human blood...

Yet you don't scream or look afraid, nor do you ask where your parents are.

Instead you look at him and apologize for oversleeping, acting as though he was your parent.

It confuses him, so he brings their corpses to you (like a cat gifting their owner a dead bird), thinking you'd understand and be horrified..

But you don't recognize them at all. You don't remember their neglect and the trauma it gave you.

All you remember was Catnap.

Ultimately, he spares you--but NOT bc your parents feebly begged him to when they never gave a single damn about you--and does his best to keep you safe given the circumstances.

He treats you like his kit more or less, making sure you ate and letting you climb on his back for rides (and sometimes he'll hold you in his paws while walking upright).

Any Smiling Critter caught threatening you will be devoured by him (or added to his shrine), so they know not to touch you.

He also forbids Dogday from ever speaking to you, knowing he'll try to drill thoughts of escape and distrust of Catnap into your head.

If he has to go outside Playcare, he'll fight tooth and nail to fend off Huggy and whoever else might think he's parading around a tasty treat.

The Prototype is well-aware of your connection to his "devotee", but doesn't mind it .

Because he knows Theodore is still somewhere in there, trying his best to protect a fellow orphan--one who could've been made into a monster just like him.

[magnolia-among-the-stars]

twin sized mattress (rafe cameron)

summary: What happens when one moment you’re coming home to change for a secret date, and the next you’re being dragged away to a "wilderness therapy camp" with no warning, no goodbye.

Kitty Hawk isn’t a camp. It’s a prison disguised as a lesson, a place designed to break people like me. No contact. No escape. Just rules, isolation, and the constant reminder that this is my fault.

I don’t know how long it’s been since I last saw Rafe Cameron. Maybe he moved on. Maybe he doesn’t even know I’m gone.

But if he does? If he finds out where they sent me? Then I don’t know who should be more afraid—me… or the people keeping me here. based on this request

word count: 6590

trigger warnings: forced disciplinary camp, isolation, emotional manipulation, toxic positivity, gaslighting, coercion, PTSD-like symptoms, mentions of forced labor, exhaustion, restricted food, physical abuse (in the altercations with the security team)

A/N: i take this topic so seriously because I know that even though Kitty Hawk is a fictional location, there are real camps out here that are doing this. there's a few real impactful documentaries on netflix (among so many others) that talk through the horrors of these programs. Please take care of yourself in reading this - I'm really proud of it but it is a much heavier topic.

I never thought my parents would do it. Truly. I mean, of course I thought it was possible. Hell, they’d threatened it the entirety of freshman year. That was the year John B’s dad disappeared, the year that Kie went off to Kook Academy. It was a rough year for all of us. So sure, they’d threaten the idea if I kept hanging out with ‘that Maybank kid’, if I kept up my ‘attitude’ or my ‘late night sexcapades’ as my mother called them.

I could still see her face, just last weekend in the kitchen pouring another cup of coffee. The night before, we’d been out at the Boneyard having a few beers. I could still see the pinch in between her brow, could still see the tremble in her upper lip as she scolded me. “Keep this up, see what happens. I swear, if I wake up one more time in the middle of the night to find that you are still not home…if I find out you were partying with those criminals - you are done, do you hear me?” 

We’d always landed somewhere between Pogues and Kooks, having moved here after my dad took a job in the Coast Guard but living on The Cut to save on moving costs. I’d always found myself at peace with the Pogues, surfing during the summer days and boating in the evenings. It was always lighthearted. Work hard, play harder. I should’ve known it would bite me in the ass someday. 

Dripping from the rain and in desperate need of a change of clothes before heading out, I didn’t even have a chance to tug my key from my pocket when the door swung open wide. 

A strange man stood in the doorway, staring down at me menacingly. I raise a brow, try to peer around the behemoth of the man. “Am I at the wrong house?” I mumble, backing up a little bit to get my bearings. My back slams into something dense and I turn, noticing another man with his arms crossed. “What the–,” my heart drops to my ass and bile rises in my throat. 

It’s a blur after that of hands on skin, flip flops displaced on the wet grass, of screaming and promises and begging. Bruises form from kicking against the car door, from punching against the glass. I get a glimpse of my mother sobbing on the porch as I’m driven away in a black SUV, my father wiping his mouth. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket and I have just enough time to stare down at the incoming text message.  I just parked, let me know when you get here?

I try to quickly press out a response, send an SOS but I’m not quick enough. The man sitting to my left snatches it from my grasp and all hope of escape, of stopping the nightmare of some therapeutic wilderness camp for troubled teenage girls. 

______

It feels like too much time passes in the dark of the woods by the time I see the sign, illuminated by solar lighting on the side of the road. Kitty Hawk. The hellscape that Kie’s parents had threatened a few months back. At least Mike and Anna had come to their senses that listening to your child had been the solution to their rebellion instead of a traumatic kidnapping and manual labour. How peachy. 

Bigfoot pushes me from the slick leather and out of the car, wrapping a stiff hand around my bicep and all but drags me up the dirt path to a cabin at the top of the hill in the center of the facility. It’s dark; rows of evergreen cabins line the paths through the trees. It’s too quiet, the only sound coming from any direction were crickets and a quiet echo of shouting. Creepy.

Inside the main office, a woman with a toothy tight smile and tired eyes tells me that this is a chance at redemption. “This is a chance to right your wrongs, to really make something of yourself.”

“I’ll pass,” I tell her, nodding absentmindedly at the cat bobble head that sways on her desk. “I should really be getting home…I’ve got a date.” 

“You do…with your future.” She covers it with her hand, forcing me to look up at her. Her smile tightens, stretching too far. “And I have high hopes for you,” she says. 

“No, like an actual date, it’s important,” I say, blinking a little and frowning. I think of him, sitting out on the beach waiting for my text message. He’s probably looking out at the ocean, watching the storming waves and wondering if I’m blowing him off, if I’ve finally called off whatever it is that we had before things could get serious; before we told anyone anything. Probably wondering if I was coming to my senses. What Pogue would ever want to get into a serious relationship with the Kook Prince anyway? 

“Sweetheart, we need you to work with us here. Alright? We can work together to make things better, okay? Can you trust us?” the woman says, leaning forward like we’re friends. 

I stare at her for a moment, disturbed by the optimism. “I need to atleast make a phone call.” 

She shakes her head, waving to the goof in the corner standing at the ready. “Patients cannot use their phones or have contact with anyone for the first six weeks of the program-,” she continues to rattle off a series of rules. They go in one ear and out the other.

And when Sasquatch finally comes in to drag me off to a cabin, all I want is Rafe’s hands on me instead. And when I lay on the thin mattress on the bottom bunk in the overcrowded girls’ cabin with springs digging into my back, I try to imagine the soft sand underneath me and the scratchings on the plank of wood above the stars. I try not to think about how heartbroken he must be, not knowing that I’d been sent away.

____

Days pass in a daze of survival; of medication trials, gaslighting unqualified therapy and lots of splinters. Between group sessions of talking through our wrongdoings and ruthless workouts to ‘sweat out our sins’, the counselors are convinced that becoming lumberjacks will cure us of whatever illness has caused our disobedience. My hands quickly become calloused from the endless hours of splitting wood with an old axe, my shoulders sore from carrying logs to and from one site to another. There’s no real structure, just ragged breathing and murmurs of toxic positivity quotes that hard work builds character. 

No one talks about the horrors of being taken from their homes and families, of the depression that causes them to act out. I watch a girl, maybe a year younger than me, sway on her feet. She’s holding an axe that’s longer than her arm and I worry she’ll hurt herself. I step forward to steady her, slip the axe from her loose grip. 

Betsy Sue or whatever the fuck her name is steps back with a wide gaze. 

Big Boss Man appears almost out of nowhere and rips the axe from my grasp. He tucks my arm behind my back, like I’m a threat to his stature. 

“Threatening a counselor in your first week,” Betsy Sue says, shaking her head and scribbling something on her stupid clipboard. “That’s two weeks in the Reflection Cabin for you. I hope you’ll take that time to really think about how you want your experience here to go,” she says through clenched teeth. 

“No, no - I wasn’t even threatening you-, no, get off,” I try to shove their hands away like a scared cat. “She was going to pass out, you barely feed us-,” I grunt as I’m shuffled through the woods, kicking and screaming. They close me inside the dim cabin, leaving me to the dust glinting through slips of light from under the sealed windows. They’re cracked open just about two inches, allowing the cool breeze to seep into the room like a crushed straw. I notice the lack of sheets on the thinner mattress and the state of the dirty toilet. Fuck.

—

It's been days since he’s heard from you. Rafe Cameron wasn’t someone who normally got left on read and yet that alone didn’t even cause him to stop thinking about you. He didn’t know how it happened but he knew that your laugh is infectious. He had never pictured himself settling down and yet, he had thought about what size your ring finger was. 

You’d been around Sarah ever since Ward’s death…the first time. One of the annoying Pogues who’d been treasure hunting around Kildare like you were Jack Sparrow and yet, he couldn’t help but search for your face in a crowd. And one late night, long after he and Sarah had agreed to be in each other’s lives, he found you staring up at the stars on the patio. The rest of the Pogues were passed out throughout Tannyhill from a night of partying but you? You were curled up on a covered wicked chair, hair twisted into two lazy braids and hand deep into a bag of cheese puffs.

“The hell are you doin’ out here?” he grunts, looking at the mess your friends had left. 

You just crunched away, unbothered by his tone as your dirty orange fingers pointed up at the sky. “Meteor shower.” You held out the bag for him, “Wanna watch?” 

Rafe didn’t know what he was doing when he settled down below the wicker chair, shoulder bumping yours as he stared at your dirty fingers holding the big bag. “Those are disgusting,” he mumbles, staring at your profile and the way your lips curled up. 

“And?” you said, turning to look at him with a raised brow. 

He felt like he could kiss the smirk off of your face. So he tried. And you tasted like artificial cheese and malibu. He swore he fell in love. And then you stood him up, there on the beach a few nights ago. And then he noticed that you hadn’t been around the house with his sister either, nor at the farmer’s market with Kie and Cleo, not even at the marina with the boys. 

Were you avoiding him? What the hell had he done to deserve the silent treatment and a no show. It wasn’t like he could just straight up ask Sarah where you were hiding. You’d never really gotten to the point of making it official, of sharing with your friends that you’d done the unspeakable. You’d gotten involved with Sarah’s recovering assaholic of a brother. 

It’s not until a few days of stewing later that he decides he can’t take it anymore, that he can’t move on until he’s seen you. That what you guys had felt too real for him to just shrug it off. When he walks into the kitchen though, he’s not expecting the whole clan to be there again. But he counts only six and deflats until he hears their conversation. 

“They said she went on a trip to go visit family out of state,” Pope shares, leaning down and shaking his head. 

“There’s no way she would’ve left without telling someone something,” Sarah shakes her head, leaning on John B. “It’s just not her.”

“You don’t think they could’ve—,” JJ drags a finger across his throat and gets a few groans, a pinch from Kie. 

“JJ, not funny. No, the only thing that they’ve ever threatened her with is–,” Kie looks up at the sound of Rafe’s footsteps, catches his curiosity. “Rafe? What are you doing here?”

“Where is she?” he asks, crossing his arms. Sarah notices the strain of emotion settling into his jaw, his hands tucked into themselves to stop from shaking. She tilts her head in realization, she’s always been too perceptive. 

“We don’t know,” she says. “But from the way you’re shifting your weight from one foot to the other, you have something you’d like to share with the class.” 

Rafe huffs out a sarcastic noise, somewhere between an amused snort and an annoyed laugh. “Cute, real cute. Your little friend was supposed to meet me out on the beach the night of the storm. Never showed. So, because she won’t answer my calls or texts – you can tell her that she can come out of hiding now and tell me to fuck off like an adult.” 

“The night of the–oh my god,” Kie covers her mouth. “Dude, her parents pulled the trigger.” 

“I knew it,” JJ shouts, slapping the countertop in confirmation but Kie shuts him down. 

“No, listen, her parents told her two weeks ago that one more late night and they were sending her away to Kitty Hawk. That’s the day that we were stranded on Figure 8 because someone-,” she looks at JJ, “forgot to put enough gas in the Snapper.” 

Rafe stiffens, guilt washing through him for thinking that you would’ve walked away without a single word. He’s reminded of the soft commentary woven into your conversations; that your parents were absent, harsh.

“You really think her parents would send her away?” John B asks.

“Yes, 100%. My parents got the name of the place from her mom. They’ve been threatening it for a while now. We just laughed it off…” 

“Lets go get her,” Rafe blurts out. The whole group turns in confusion at his outburst, watching as he grabs his wallet and keys from the bowl on the counter. He looks like a man on a mission and they freeze. When he realizes no one is moving, he glares. “What are you all looking at me like that for? Do you want to go rescue your friend or not?” 

They share a look, a six way silent debate and decide that no matter how strange it is – having Rafe Cameron on your team was better than against.

—

I don’t know how much time passes, unable to tell the difference between sunshine through the dirty windows and the beaming lights spotlighting movement through the facilities. I start to get restless after a day of reflection, pacing up and down the rows of empty bunks and reciting all the joyful things waiting for me outside the doors of the cabin, outside the walls of the camp. 

Two days later, one of the fake therapists comes in with another stupid clipboard to chat through my diagnosis. She gives me some mumbo jumbo about defiance and attention-something or other. I’m too distracted by counting the steps it takes to make it around her and through the door. How quickly could I run to the gate and get to the main road…could I flag someone down in time?

I wonder if anyone even realizes I’m gone. Do the Pogues think I’ve just left without a word? Does Rafe? Are they looking for me?  

She asks me a question, calls my name. 

I run for it. I should’ve tightened my shoelaces. 

Stumbling over myself, losing the momentum of surprise, Jack and the Beanstalk easily grasp onto both my arms and shove me back into the cabin. I struggle in their painful grips, swinging wildly to see if I can break free. It’s futile and eventually Beanstock just tosses me harshly to the ground. I lay there longer than expected, stomach aching from my one meal a day. My arms start to bruise from the handling and a hopelessness washes over me. 

“I was really hoping you would’ve made some progress but it looks like you’re still unwilling to let us help you,” the woman clicks her pen and tucks her clipboard snug under her arm. “We’ll try again next week, hmm?” She turns to leave, taking the big brutes with her.

I scramble to my feet, desperate to stop the door from closing. The light is snuffed from the room, the heavy sound of a padlock grinds against the wood and I’m alone again. “No, no, please,” I shout, slamming against the sturdy framework. 

I didn't get a meal for a long time after that. I notice a subtle shift in lighting outside and if I squat near the two inch opening, I hear a buzzing noise that almost seems like a shift in setting. I scratch a notch in the wood of a bunk post when I hear it. The bologna and melted cheese sandwich is not nearly enough to make my stomach stop hurting and my throat is too raw from screaming to be able to enjoy the meal. 

—

The drive to Kitty Hawk is tense and quiet, Rafe’s knuckles turning white at the thought of you being forced from your home. Kie had filled him in on all she’d heard about the program, the mocking website with the sense of community and enthusiasm for growth. It made his stomach churn. 

He checks the rearview mirror, ensuring your loyal and idiotic friends are still behind him in the Twinkie. Sarah watches the stiffness in her brother’s movements, the tension in his limbs. She ponders a little, feeling bold with just the two of them in the car. “So,” she takes a sip of water, “how long have you guys been seeing each other?” 

Rafe’s head snaps toward her, eyes flickering back to the road as he tries to collect himself. “Seeing who?” 

“Rafe, I’m your sister. We may have been at odds for a long time but I know when you’re tucking something away because you don’t want someone to see you vulnerable,” Sarah says. When he says nothing in response, she smirks a little, looks out the window. 

“It’s been a few months,” he says, clearing his throat and wiping his mouth. He taps his fist against the steering wheel, frustrated with his honesty. Rafe feels like he’s betraying your trust a little, sharing a secret you both hadn’t agreed to share. “We weren’t official…not yet anyways.” 

“But you lo-,” she stops herself, not wanting to scare him off, “you care about her.”

Rafe gives her the side eye, noticing the signage up ahead for the damn camp. “I love her,” he admits, turning into the place. He watches as the twinkie rolls off to the side, leaving just the two of them puttering down the dirt road. He stops for a second, foot hitting the break impulsively. He’d just gotten his sister back in his life, finally getting on good terms with her. Rafe couldn’t lose another person. Not with all that he’d done to make amends. “Are you…are you like, mad?” 

Sarah looks at him with a softness that he still wasn’t used to. He didn’t know where she’d inherited such a look, not having been raised with it himself. “Rafe, she’s been lighter and brighter in the last few months than I’ve ever seen her. I’m going to make the assumption that you have a lot to do with that.”

“Really?” He can’t help the smile that stretches across his face, the burning in his cheeks at the admission. 

“Yes, really,” Sarah laughs, amused at the site of him being bashful. “And you’ve become way less snappy and more tolerable, so I’m happy as long as you’re both happy.” She covers his hand with hers, smiling “Let's go get our girl.”

He nods, squeezing her hand and starting to drive up to the men walking around in front of the gate ahead. 

“So like…do you…have a plan?” Sarah asks, tensing as they wave them to a stop. 

“We’re going to buy the camp,” he says, rolling down the window and looking over at her. He looks over the stern man, feeling a subtle rage underneath the surface of his skin. But Rafe is Ward Cameron’s son after all and he knows how to manipulate his way through a deal. He’s made a promise to himself that he wouldn’t be that person anymore, wouldn’t become his dad. But sometimes, the toolbox comes in handy for the greater good. 

“This is private property,” the man grunts, nodding to the road. “You’ll have to turn around.” 

“We’re here to meet with the director of the camp about an investment deal,” Rafe says, oozing with an authority that Sarah hasn’t witnessed in quite some time. It sends a wave of discomfort over her but she stays quiet, letting him work. “Elliot Calloway?”

“Investment deal? You?” the man says, raising a brow and looking back at the other security. 

“Yeah,” Rafe pulls his business card from his visor, flashing it at the guy without care. “My family is pretty big in the development?”

“Mr. Cameron, give me just a moment,” the man’s tone changes, stepping away to radio someone. He comes back after a few minutes, nodding to the gate. “Central building just beyond the parking lot with the buses. Mr. Calloway will meet you there.” 

—

I sit against the wall under the windowsill, staring absentmindedly at the door frame. I try to listen for the hum of the lights switching, swaying absentmindedly to a tune stuck in my head. My head lifts at a voice dancing through the wind outside. It’s a newer voice, unique from the roulette of voices that I’d gotten used to in the time since arriving at camp. 

The first thought that runs through my head is that the new voice is Rafe. The thought that follows is that I have gone crazy. The voice is gone before I can even stand and try to peer out the window. It would be a waste because I was certain at this point that I was forgotten about, that no one was coming to save me. This was my new reality.

My delusions prove correct because the voice doesn’t come back, doesn’t drift through the window as time passes. What does come back is the hum buzzes and another sandwich – just cheese this time – is slid through the door. The cabin gets chilly as I deconstruct my sandwich on my lap, ripping parts of the bread away and eating slowly to pass the time. 

There’s a commotion outside the door and I glance up from the slice of American cheese when I hear the padlock click open, hear the hinges squeal. There’s a stream of light that hurts my eyes as the door is pushed open but it's gone as quick as it came. My shoulders tense as a figure ducks a little, coming closer in the dark of the cabin. I stay pressed against the wall, deciding that a splinter from the unfinished framing is better than whatever the security guard is up to. 

“Please, I promise not to try to escape,”  I whimper, scrunching my eyes shut in hopes that this is all just a terrible nightmare. 

“Well, that’s a waste I guess.” 

I blink, eyes straining in the dark to look for a sign that I’ve officially lost my mind, that I’ve started to hallucinate in the solitude of isolation. He’s kneeling down a few steps back, dressed in the classic black uniform of a guard. “Rafe?” My throat tightens, the dam breaking as all the feeling rushes back through me. 

“You didn’t think I’d let it slide that you missed our date, did you?” he murmurs, crawling forward to wrap his arms around me, pulling me into his chest. 

“I’m so sorry,” I blurt out, tensing against him. I melt into his warm, finally feeling protected in his caring embrace. He smells like the beach and feels like home. 

Rafe’s hands slide under me as he tugs me forward, pulling me into his lap. I can’t stop the sobs that wrack through me, trying to cover my mouth so that no one will hear how loud I am. It’s scary how much I had convinced myself that I could survive without  softness, without being held in a way that wasn’t aggressive, and wasn't forceful. 

“How many days has it been?” I sniffle a little, shaking. 

Rafe reaches up to wipe away the tears, cradling my cheek as he searches my face. It’s easy to recognize the frustration in his brow, the tension in his jaw. “It’s been a week but we’re breaking you out of here, okay?” He rises to his feet, picking me up with ease. He takes my hand and guides me to the doorway. 

My stomach churns, heart racing as I suck in a breath. Something deep inside panics and I tug at his arm, hesitating in the middle of the cabin. “Wait, wait,” I whisper, staring at him wide-eyed. 

Rafe looks back at me, tugging a little on my hand. “Doll, c’mon, we don’t have much time.” 

The way he tugs at my hand causes my throat to tighten again and I pull back, like his touch burns my flesh. I hold my hand against my chest, curling into myself. “Rafe…I don’t…” I start to say, losing my breath. “I don’t…what if they–”

“Shhh, shhh, hey–hey,” Rafe steps back cautiously back into my personal space, hands up as if he’s trying to show me he means no harm. His blue eyes are flecked with worry as he takes in my state. “What did they do to you?” 

I don’t know how to respond, the nightmare of the apparent week since I’d last seen him dying on my tongue. I open my mouth but nothing escapes me. I look down, feeling so unlike myself.

Rafe steps closer, slowly moving his hands to hold my face again so he can stare down at me. His thumbs smooth over the apples of my cheeks, his skin cool. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get here but I promise you, no one comes near you again – okay?” 

“Okay,” I whisper, looking up at him. 

Rafe nods, gives me a little smile and checks his watch. He looks to the door and starts to move with a little more intention. He can peel the black hoodie from his slender torso, checking his watch one more time. “You trust me?” 

I nod without hesitation. “More than anything.” 

He steps forward, pulling the hoodie over my head to cover the stupid Kitty Hawk uniform from view. It’s dark only for a moment before I’m staring up at his face again. I’m swimming in cotton, the clothing big enough that it covers my shorts. Rafe takes care as he brushes his hands along my neckline, freeing my hair from the collar. “Alright, here’s the plan. We’re going to head into the woods down by the water…it seems like no one really goes down there. We’re not gonna run, that’s going to draw attention to us,” he rushes to explain.

I can’t help myself, rising up on my tippy toes and pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Thank you for coming to get me,” I whisper, fingers poking out to clutch at his shirt. Before he can respond, before he can react - there’s a loud burst of noise outside in the distance. I gasp out as we’re suddenly engulfed in darkness. “Rafe?”

“That’s our cue,” he says, sliding the hoodie over my head and lacing our hands together. “Once we get outside – don’t stop moving, okay? Head down and don’t let go of my hand, alright?” I nod, trying to ignore the thoughts racing through my mind and how hard my heart beats in my chest. 

Rafe turns to the door and squeezes my hand tightly before pulling it open. It’s pitch black outside but I can hear loud shouting. “Tug that door shut, okay?” he says. 

I pull the handle to shut the door behind us as we take off down the creaky stairs, trying to take slow breaths as I keep my eyes on the ratty sneakers I’ve been issued. Rafe’s grip is firm as he leads me quickly along winding paths and between cabins as if he grew up at the camp. I can almost see the opening in the trees that leads down to the water when he pushes me hastily behind a cabin. 

“What tha’ hell is goin’ on?” he shouts to someone, his voice disguised with a deep drawl.

I worry that they’ll notice he’s not one of them but my shoulders relax a little when whoever he’s talking to sounds like they haven’t stopped moving. “I think a transformer blew, the generator’s old.”

“Where you need me?” Rafe responds, stepping a little out of my view and I have to press against the cabin to stop myself from following him.

“Get the mouthy one from isolation, bring her for count in the mess hall,” the man responds, his voice further away as he leaves the conversation. I taste bile in my throat at his words, breath hitching as Rafe’s ‘assignment’ to get me. There’s a ringing in my ear and I sway, dizzy with fear. I jump a little when his fingertips brush my wrists. 

“Hey, hey, you still with me?” he bends a little so he’s eye level. His voice is soft. “What did I promise you?”

“No…” I swallow. “No one will come near me again.” 

“No one will come near you again,” he repeats, nodding in agreement. “You ready, brave girl?” I nod, feeling a rush of adrenaline as he pulls me back onto the path and we move at an intentional pace toward the treeline. I can see more flashlights, zipping across the area as we step out of the view of the cabins. I stumble a little, tripping on roots as we move closer and closer to the water. The rough and rocky path turns soft, making it hard to keep a quick pace. 

“Rafe, how are we going to get back home? The water is the opposite direction from the main–,” my mouth falls open, seeing the outline of a few small boats beached ashore. 

Rafe turns to me once we are at the shoreline, winking. His hands smooth over my waist to pick me up and into the boat. “Duck down, okay?” 

I slide down against the seat, trying to steady my breathing as he pushes the boat slowly back into the water and jumping in once we’re floating far enough in the middle of the water. I watch the way he reaches down and tugs on the pull-start with purpose. Panic settles in my bones when nothing happens. 

“C’mon,” he says, tugging again. He tries again. Nothing. “Son of a bitch.” 

“Hey, what are you doing?” someone shouts from the beach. Flashlights shining over Rafe and along the boat, shouting as Rafe tries again to start the dinghy. I notice the split second of fear on his face as he struggles to tug the pull-start one more time. Coming back to myself, I stand up and shuffle to his side.

His hands are shaking as he frantically tries to start the boat. “Hey, get back here,” a man shouts, water splashing as they rush into the water to catch up. 

“Let go,” I mutter, pushing his hands out of the way to grab the handle. I give it one swift tug and breathe out in relief when the engine roars to life. Rafe grabs the helm and quickly steers up away from the man, causing him to stumble into the water behind us. As the camp and the security disappear the further we get, the more weight lifted from my shoulder. 

I tuck my face in my hands, feeling shocked that Rafe actually just pulled a near prison break to come get me. My chest rises and falls as I wipe away my tears.

“Hey, are you alright?” Rafe says, fingers stretching over my thigh. 

I can’t respond, hearing a low whistling noise over by the shoreline. My shoulders tense until I see six idiots, jumping and waving in front of the Twinkie and Rafe’s truck pulled over on the side of the road. A laugh escapes me as the boys jump onto the weeds, helping Rafe pull us ashore. JJ ushers me out of the boat and the girls all engulf me in a hug, echoing their relief that we’re safe, that I’m safe. 

I turn around, seeing Rafe biting at his thumb as he speaks with John B in hushed tones. He turns back to us, catches my eye.

“Hey, we should get the move on…that security could be sending someone along the water to find you,” Pope interrupts, pointing toward the road that leads back to the camp. 

“I feel awful leaving everyone else behind,” I admit, still staring at Rafe. “We should call someone.”

“Don’t worry,” JJ says, climbing into the Twinkie, nodding to Rafe. “Your boyfriend has that covered…its a…it’s a good plan – even I can admit.” 

I turn to look at Rafe, feeling the heat rush to my face at the word boyfriend. He just smirks, nodding to the truck. “C’mon, I’ll explain on the way.” I look at Sarah, sitting in the passenger seat in the Twinkie. She scrunches her nose, a wide smile on her face. 

“Go,” she says, “we’ll catch up to you.” 

I turn to his truck where he’s waiting for me with the door open. He helps me up into the seat, standing there as I tug the seatbelt down to buckle in. I’m hyper aware of his frame, so close to me. “Rafe,” I call out his name, pulling him from what looks like a trance. He blinks, big blue eyes looking up at me in a way I hadn’t seen before – in a way that up until a week ago, would’ve scared me. 

He nods, swallowing and closing the door so that he can run around to the driver’s side. He takes off down the road, not even wasting time in pulling his seatbelt on. 

“Seatbelt,” I murmur as we peel off onto the main road. When he doesn’t respond, I say it again a little louder. 

Rafe gives me a look, huffs and begrudgingly yanks it down with one hand. I reach over the bench, taking it from him and pulling it the rest of the way to clip into place. “What a waste this romantic rescue mission would be if you ended up through the windshield in the getaway?” I say, smiling a little as I settle back into the leather seat. 

“It was pretty romantic, huh? Who would’ve thought – me, a romantic,” he says. The tension seems to dissipate a bit, the safety of his truck a veil of relief. Inside, we’re just…us. But things feel different from the last time he’d drive me around, taking me for a late night rendezvous to the beach. Now, he’s the guy that ran toward danger to save me. He’s the guy who set a plan in motion to break me out of an at-risk youth facility. 

“I did,” I whisper, looking forward as the words strip me vulnerable. “So, what’s this good plan you’ve come up with?” 

“I tried to buy the camp,” he says, causing me to look over at him in shock. 

“What?” 

Rafe looks over at me, grinning. “You heard me.” 

“You were going to buy my way out?”

“Hey, contrary to popular belief, I do try these days to go the legal route first,” Rafe says, holding his hand up. “But the director was taking too long to agree to the deal so we hitched this plan to break you out as a backup.” 

“So he didn’t take the deal,” I say, turning to look at him. “How much did you offer?”

“Oh no, he took the deal. I gave him a good faith deposit of 250K in a briefcase. The sleazy bastard nearly fainted. I told him I’d–,” 

“Rafe,” I hold a hand up, speechless. “A briefcase?”

He glances over at me and keeps going, not phased by my surprise. “Yeah, I said I’d wire the rest of the money over but it’d take a day or so to confirm with the bank but we could make a gentlemen’s agreement. And in the process, he disclosed all the legal troubles he’s been riddled with in the process of closing the deal. Which was bold considering I,” he reaches into his pocket and pulls a tape recorder out with a grin, “Got this from my dad’s office before we left.” 

He clicks the play button and we listen as the man discloses a few lawsuits and unpaid debts he has lingering, how much of a relief it will be to get the place off his plate. My mouth falls open as Rafe stops the tape, placing it in the console. “So we are,” he glances over at me, triumphantly, “are heading to the air strip to meet Shoupe and give him this evidence. And while Shoupe works with the SBI to dismantle Kitty Hawk, we’ll be under witness protection until the trial…but you wouldn’t have to testify unless you wanted to. I made sure that Shoupe knew that.” 

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. “Witness protection? Where?” 

“Wherever you desire,” he looks over with a cute smile, scrunching his nose. “Sarah’s already made the call. Pilot will be waiting for us on the runway. Shoupe won’t tell your parents until we’re situated.” 

I’m at a loss for words as I try to take in what he tells me. He glances over at me, face falling a little. 

“You…situated,” I stutter out, breathless. I try to process his words, process what he’s done. My pulse races. “Pull over,” I blurt out weakly, palms sweaty as I glance behind us and notice the empty stretch of dark road.

“Are you alright?” he repeats, looking repeatedly between me and the road. 

I click the button to release my seatbelt as Rafe turns the wheel in a haste. “Are you sick?” I don’t answer him, reaching up a hand as we pull onto the shoulder. Dust kicks up around the truck as he pushes the stick into park, watching me wide-eyed. “What the hell is hap–,”

I tug his face toward mine, pressing my mouth to his with a fierceness that I’d never felt before. It’s quick and I pull back, breathless as I search his face. It felt like my nerves were on fire as we kissed, fanning an ember into a flame of desire. 

Rafe’s pupils are blown as he reaches forward and yanks me firmly back toward him. We lock lips. It’s messy and rushed and passionate. His hands find my thighs, scooping me up so I’m flush against him. 

There’s a searing heat and for the first time, it’s clear that it’s not just sexual tension. It’s survival. It’s praise and gratitude. It’s a confirmation that I’m real, and a guarantee of more. We jump a little, pulling apart when the truck horn blares out in the dead of the night – prompted by my ass.

It causes me to giggle, nuzzling into his neck with a snort while sliding from his lap to sit beside him. Rafe combs his fingers through my hair, unable to control his own laughter. I snort again, leaning into his bicep and looking up at him with a loving gaze. “Was it your idea to blow up a transformer?” 

“Well that was really Maybank’s idea…but it did the trick,” he says, pressing a kiss to my forehead and putting the truck back into drive before taking my hand. “Don’t tell him I said that.”

well, i'm in love. if you would like to make a request, i write for all the main characters of obx and you can send them here or let me know what you thought of this story :)

[sheepispink]

His medic, Your muse

pairings: leon s kennedy x medic!reader (im pretty sure it’s gender neutral)

summary: You’re a medic at the DSO, your first ever patient being Leon. However that was three years ago and you’ve since left for a better life, but Leon’s being doing worse, struggling to survive without you. So, as anyone does, he turns up injured at your doorstep, multiple times.

WC: 4.5k

A/n: i miss him so much, i miss leon so much i want to kiss him

resident evil masterlist

————————————————-

You’ve worked at the DSO for a while, though as one of the medics rather than an agent. The training was tough but you took it well, eventually getting your certification. However, you still have not treated a real patient yet, only assisting or handling miniscule problems. Today you had been told that a bunch of agents had just returned and one would be assigned to you. There wasn’t time to ask questions, even to determine his state, before he’s knocking at your little infirmary in the west wing. He had dealt with his fair share of medics in his training, and they hadn’t been particularly nice. In fact none of the others in the program were particularly friendly either; nearly everyone was tightlipped due to the fact this was supposed to be some top secret government program. When he was ushered towards the infirmary and you approached him, he was expecting a straight forward and relatively quiet checkup, or at best a few stammers seeing as you didn’t look too experienced. This was the least favourite part of his missions; newbie or not, he was sure he’d leave this only feeling more drained than before. “Kennedy, is it? Are there any really bad injuries I should be aware of?”

You do stutter a little, making his lips quirk upwards at his correct prediction. “My hand got stabbed, and I was injected with some.. virus thing, then healed. Anything else shouldnt be too bad.” He reminds himself not to get too hopeful over you— that might just be the only full sentence you say for the next three hours. “V-virus?” You squeak it out, having never heard of an agent getting a virus and then healing from said virus too. Though you were briefed about Umbrella a while back, you didnt realise they made antidotes too. Then again, they didn't want all their people to die out.

You ignore the way his lips rise again at your squeak, instead opening a new syringe and setting up some vials. “Okay, we’ll have to take some blood to test for any abnormalities. Are you scared of needles?”

He blinks at you, stares down at his rolled up sleeve, the needle in your hand and then back to you again, eyebrow raised. “What if I was?”

He wasn't, but he couldn’t fault you for asking; he’s met a lot of people in his life who’ve been afraid, even if they were special service agents or the like.

“Well there’s a different needle I can use, or I can make sure you don't know when I've done it.. or I can make sure you don't see it?” He raises a brow, and shakes his head, about to mumble something about him not being scared of needles. Though, before he can get a sound out, there’s a pinch in his arm and in seconds you have the vial filled up to the top. “Hold onto this.” He finds himself following your orders without hesitation, his hand holding down a small cotton ball you pressed against the incision whilst you grab a piece of medical tape to keep it down. “Perfect, just tell me if that carries on bleeding. Now pass me your hand and I'll rewrap the gauze there.”

He blinks, watching as you delicately take his hand, slowly unwrapping the bandages and watching him for any reaction of pain. It hurts, but it’s nothing he cant handle too badly. You’re slow and careful as you clean the wound, your thumb pressing gently into his uninjured skin in a soothing gesture each time he tenses. “There, all done.” A smile curves on your lips, satisfied by your neat bandages left on his hand. “Thanks..” He starts to sit up right, ready to leave when you speak up again, hands around a small clipboard.

”So, apart from noticeable injuries, what else have you had?” He hasn't expected you to care about anything other than open wounds, considering most nurses wouldn't but you’re watching him expectantly. “Got thrown around a lot, probably some big bruises and cuts—nothing too bad.” Your brows furrow though, and you gesture for him to show you them and so he does. For the next half hour, you carefully check over each mark and particularly large bruise, fingers gentle against his collarbone as you wipe down a cut there. ”Is this it now..?” He currently feels like a mummy from how much gauze and plasters litter his body.

”Injuries-wise, yes.” You chuckle at his impatience, looking up at him again after turning the page to a fresh one. “How are you feeling?”

”What?”

”Y’know, your mental state. Any unusual migraines, brain fog..voices?” He shakes his head slowly and you nod, scribbling down a short note. He hadn’t expected to stay here this long, nor for you to ask things like that, especially since he knew most of the DSO medics were worked to the bone. You take his short answer well, scooting your swivel chair over to the computer. “Alright… just keep applying ointment on those bruises..” You hum whilst tapping away at your keyboard, likely filling in a prescription for a proper jar of ointment for him.

This time he finally stands, grabbing his leather jacket and slipping it on. He does feel a little better— even he can't deny that fact. “You’ll have a debriefing soon right..?” He lets out a small huff in agreement, clearly not looking too happy about being forced back into the job once more and not trying to hide that in the slightest.

“Hmm.. how many hours of medical leave do you want? I can't do a whole day based on your injuries, but I can definitely get you some hours of rest.” He blinks at you—was that not technically lying? As a medic, you had the authority to request a temporary, permanent, or just even a few hours of discharge, but agents who have tried to request it were nearly always denied. After all, the DSO didn't care about their employees, only the work they got done.

”You look tired. It’d do good for your injuries.” You turn back to him, giving him a small shrug before gesturing to the empty medical beds around the small room. There was a curtain to shield each one off from the other, supposed to be used for emergencies or treatments. He thinks about it for a moment, wondering if you’re really being serious about all of this. As he stares back, all he can see is the genuine worry in your eyes and he reluctantly softens his harsh features, nodding. “Okay.. guess I can stay for a bit.”

He’s suddenly very grateful when you keep your gaze to your paperwork as he steps towards a bed in the far corner, draping his jacket on the small table and undoing the remaining gear on his person. His shirt now crumpled on the desk, he slips beneath the soft but thin covers of the bed. Never would he have ever thought he’d accept an offer like this before; when he sneaks a peek back at you, he only sees you tapping away quietly at your computer. It’s an environment he likes, quiet.. peaceful; he soon dozes off, slipping into a deep slumber.

————-

That was three years ago, and since then you’ve been one of the only medics he’s let tend to, and the only he’d speak with outside of the infirmary. Sometimes choosing the medic was out of his control, but the more you were assigned to him, the more he longed for that medic to always be you. He wasn’t the only one though; you were regularly praised by the agents for being one of the most attentive around. Since that day, he’s spent a lot more hours in your infirmary too, whether it was for checkups, small cuts or just a well-needed chat that’d occasionally turn into an excuse to nap. You were one of the few things keeping him sane after every mission, making sure he stayed healthy and well and prescribing him rest whenever you deemed it to be necessary— that was practically always though.

However, just when he started to consider indulging in your presence a little more, you had decided enough was enough. Despite your constant dedication, even you couldn't live through the constant stress of attending to every injured person and witnessing deaths of agents you used to see every day. And so, after saving up enough and finding a job that only required part time, you quit. You know the agents would survive without you; after all, you were just a small spark in the midst of the darkness of the company and it had been slowly snuffing out the light you had left.

For the first few months, Leon pushed past it, especially as more B.O.Ws showed up across the states. With each mission he only drained himself more and more, forced to walk past the empty infirmary with a longing tear in his heart. He couldn't help it; you cared about him more than he would even care about himself, and he cared for you more than his mind could comprehend. So he continued to deny himself, forcing himself through mission after mission until he was riding back on his motorcycle—the pain brutal as he drove through the empty streets. What good was there in calling for help? He’d only be shoved into more work by morning, another hangover, another splitting headache and another wish of everything ending altogether. A cycle he desperately had not wanted to repeat again.

”Uh.. um.. are you free?” He leans against a payphone, knowing it’s two am and feeling so, so bad for the tired yawn that echoed when you had eventually picked up. “What’s wrong Leon..? You don’t sound too good..” He couldn't speak; forced into silence just by your gentle voice speaking out his name. There was no more of that Kennedy nonsense, just him, Leon. “Can I come over..?”

Ten minutes later you opened the door to his weary face, an exhaustion that rung his hair flat and sunk his gaze to the floor. “Oh my—“ You gasp, noticing the stains of red on his shirt and grabbing his wrist without a second thought. Quickly, you have him settled on your couch, his shirt discarded as you tend to a gash near his side, fixing him as you always have. When you’re sure he’s fine, you give him a worried glance before grabbing him a thick duvet, water and painkillers. He sleeps soundly on your couch that night, no nightmares to lurk in the depths of his mind and nothing leaking out the ever present hole that once painted his heart.

After that day, it grew increasingly harder to avoid the urge. How would anyone deny something so perfect when they’ve already been delivered a taste? It was only a ‘once-in-a-few-months’ type of thing. You let him in, even if you haven't heard from him in six weeks and he’s practically bleeding out on your doorstep. That was also the problem— the issue of inconveniencing you. He always dropped in at the worst times, usually when you were all sleepy as you wiped down his gashes with the best concentration you can. What if you were only dealing with him for the sake of it? He couldn't deny the possibility of this being true— the fact of him taking advantage of your kindness. It tore him apart more than the ache that begged for you, pulling him in two directions with no middle ground to save him.

Until a mission comes around, a bad one— a really bad one. The B.O.W lays in the rubble, a sickly acid oozing from its weakened form and it’s clear these are its last breaths now. There’s a plank of metal through its chest, its eyes destroyed by grenades Leon’s hands had dealt. However, instead of relief, he only reciprocated the distress of the bioweapon. A particularly nasty wound had his head dizzy, barely stumbling his way to your porch and knocking weakly at your door. He can barely open his mouth to speak, his eyes weak as you gasp, stilling for a split second before immediately hoisting his arm over your shoulder and ushering him inside. Blood dripped on the hardwood floor as you led him through, this time not to your couch but to your bedroom. It would be easier this way, especially since it was so close to his abdomen and having him laying flat would be great. “I-it’s not that bad..” He can't help but feel bad when you rush around the room like this, grabbing all your first aid things as quickly as possible. Usually he’d come for a patch up— not to save him before he fainted from blood loss.

“It is!“ You squeak out, back at his side and gently pushing his chest down to lay properly on the bed. It’s a matter of seconds before you have his shirt cut open, working quickly to clean the bloody skin before slipping the thread through the needle. He winces painfully as it pokes his skin, his eyebrows scrunching all the while your breaths are hitched nervously.

“Y-you’re gonna kill me..” He complains, with a groan, hoping to lighten the mood even with the current situation— it’s not like he hasn’t tried to rile you up before. It’s his love language, he can't help his nature. Even so, he’s seen you handle worse before, even having wrapped an emergency tourniquet when you got caught up in an ambush. But this, seeing him tremble, scared you— enough for your hands to tremble as you wrap a firm bandage over him. You let out a long breath, eventually rolling your eyes at his remark. “Would you prefer to bleed out all over my favourite duvet?” He lets out a little chuckle as he pushes himself up with wheezed breaths to lean against the pillows you fluffed for him. “I think I already did that part.”

The air is quiet as you clean up his blood, your rag turning a murky red. He watches you from the bed, eyes a little more awake now that the pain has eased a bit. It’s warm, on your bed, your thick duvet draped comfortably over his battered body as you stiffly place his clothes into the washing machine along with yours that had gotten drenched in his crimson. “I wish i could help you.. it doesnt feel right forcing you to clean up after me like this.” He has to cough to clear his throat, voice a little rusty. You blink up at him though, shaking your head gently as you approach the bed with water. “Only you would complain about someone taking care of you when you need it.” It’s accompanied with a half hearted smile, your eyes holding relief for his safe state.

“Hey—I’m trying to be nice. If I could, I would help you.” He mumbles out, clearly noticing the way your hand lingered as you place the water bottle on the table beside where he lays, pulling away after a few moments. “I know Leon, i know.”

He watches you finally clear up everything, before settling at the foot of the bed with your little sketchpad again. He noticed you with it in the rare moments you had free time at the DSO, always focused on it as you scribbled down little things. Once you let him sneak a peek and it was usually landscapes you’d seen when you were on field, or ones that agents described. It was a hobby that started to die out until you quit, choosing to let that be your salvation than to be another happy thing to bury for the sake of work.

“You should get some sleep, you look tired..” You’ve been doing this every time he comes around now, always sitting somewhat near him with that black book in your hands. “Cant, i’m sketchin.” You hum out, shuffling around on the bed to face him as you continue. He raises a brow at that, confused but his hands move back to adjust the pillows behind him.

“You can sketch in the morning you know.”

“Then my subject will move, and it wont look the same.”

Now he’s fully staring at you, the implications of your words not lost on him and he almost shoots to sit up straight if not for the fact of the pain running through his body. “You’ve been drawing me.. every time i come round?”

“Yeah, gotta take note of all your injuries for later.”

He gives you a look, as if calling you out on your lame excuse right then and there. “So you cant just i dont know, write it down? Take a photo?”

This time you roll your eyes up at him and come to sit a little nearer on the bed rather than near his feet. “Well then i couldn’t do this, could i?”

You turn the page around, showing him the sketched version of him who now wears an exaggerated frown as he stares out. You’ve got a knack for drawing him, the way his hair falls slightly over his eyes and even the bridge if his nose— it’s impressive. “I do not frown like that.” You let out a laugh, giggling at his reaction as you turn the sketchbook around again and carry on, all the while his mind is still stuck on the fact that you’ve been drawing him over and over.

“Guess i’m a pretty good reference then, if you’re always drawing me?” He tilts his head towards you and you snicker again, waving him off. “Dont get cocky, you’re alright.”

“Cocky? I bet i’m the only thing you draw. C’mon, rate me out of ten, theres no way i get lower than 9.”

He watches you shuffle closer to him, leaving your sketchbook to the side as you sit right by him on the bed. You begin to narrow your eyes at him, scrutinising his appearance and he’s half tempted to cower beneath your judgement. “You get.. 1 point for your hair, it’s a nice colour, but it is a little messy.” He immediately frowns at you and sits up just a little straighter than before. “I’m an agent, not a model. And I just got a drop kicked by a bioweapon. Cut me some slack.” He huffs out but you only shrug again, eyes moving towards his face instead as you cross your legs. “Hey, you asked for a rating. It’s super duper important in art you know?”

”That’s a load of crap and you know it.”

“Well, you get another point for your eyes; They’re a nice shade of blue. Also another for your nose, it curves nicely.” He raises a brow, wondering how he’s racking up so many points so quickly and he cocks his head. “You flatter me, i’ll be at ten by the time you get to my hands.” He winks cheekily, a proud grin stretching his lips wide. “Not so fast, i never said it was out of ten— 25 is the limit.”

You continue your little game, Leon scoffing as you don’t give him any points for his ‘very strong biceps’ as he says; you can only shrug, just wanting to rile him up till he pouts again. He lets you rate his body though, smirking in a cocky way as you even go as far to compliment his hands but even more so at his muscled torso— he knows you cant resist. “So how many points are we at?” He hums, enjoying the way you’ve slowly gravitated closer to him as you ramble and mumble about his features, something that's probably considered nerdy but plenty cute to watch. “I think having strong calves leaves you at… 22. That’s pretty good.”

Your lips pull wide, grinning at him and expecting him to be just as happy but instead he only gives you a short huff, crossing his arms over his chest. “Only 22? I’m not taking anything less than 24, there must be some redeeming qualities.” You roll your eyes up at him, though keeping a good eye on his torso incase of any tear of the stitches.

“Okay fine, you can get one for your biceps. Happy?”

“Nope.”

You groan, sit up straight and ogle him, eyeing him like you’re the hawk and he’s the prey, squirming beneath you uncomfortably. “Fine. You get one more.”

“Oh? I knew it.”

“You have a very huggable waist.” You giggle, snickering as you playfully plant your hands on his hips, watching something flicker through his eyes before they grow just as mischievous. “Oh? Wanna test that out?” It was a joke, or maybe it wasn't, but you didn't mind and he sure as hell didn't either. It’s stupid, and messy, the way he pulls you in for a hug and your arms are as tight as they can be around him, cheek squished against his chest.

“I was right.”

That laugh of yours is enough to make him crumble, make him want to spill every thought inside his head. The nights he wishes he was enough of a man for you, the nights he wishes he had the courage to be the one to comfort you when you quit your job, or even the day he heard someone else soothe you when you cried over another patient.

He snaps out of his thoughts, and returns the hug, his fingers lightly tickling your sides to make you squirm and scramble back, giggling all the way. “Sooo, that’s gotta be like 25 now right?”

“Nope still 24.” He groans again, and if he’s being honest he is exhausted right now, but he’d let himself bleed out tonight if it meant seeing you laugh like that again. He’s sick of sitting back and waiting for this, waiting for you to see through him, waiting for every time he’s injured to look for excuses. “How can i get the last point?” Blue eyes lock onto your face, the wrinkle of your nose and the furrow of your brows as you think, tapping your chin playfully. He knows you’re tired too, the weight in your eyes is visible but not as bad as the lack of spark in your last month at the DSO. “You have to earn it.”

Is this his chance? He could tell you all his redeeming qualities. Like how he could hold you with one hand, how his skills were unmatched to others, the feats he’s achieved. Or he could explain his care for you: how he’d protect you from any horror that came your way, how he’d kill anything that came near to harming you, how he’d quell any worry that neared your head– that he’d die for you.

You’re still sitting before him, looking at him with curious eyes as he leans forward, crossing the small distance left between the two of you. His hand reaches up, swallowing the curve of your warm cheeks as he stares at you, properly. Your noses would brush if he went any closer, he could just kiss you right now and he’d have you in the palm of his hand– even more so than he does right now. He wants you, and he wants you to want him.

“I love you,” The words slip out, intentional yet reckless all the same, a promise made that he’s not sure he can keep but he knows he’ll rather die trying than to never feel it. “And.. i’ll do anything you ask of me to prove it to you.”

It’s like slow motion the way your pupils dilate, swirling with an emotion he’s never witnessed in you before and he takes it as a good sign, his thumb gently brushing the skin below your lips. He looks at you, a silent question in his eyes, waiting for a sign of rejection, acceptance or even hesitation. You nod quietly, your hands are awkward, not knowing where to place themselves and it makes him chuckle, loving the way you falter when it comes to him. He leans in, lips pressing against your nose first just to watch the way you blink, a wide grin widening on your face in surprise before he leans in properly, hand tightening around your cheek.

“Do I get the last point now?” He asks, still enamoured by how you’re breathless, more so in shock of his confession than the short lived kiss, though that was captivating all the same. Your hand copies his motion, cupping his cheek as you lean in more fervently, capturing his lips in yours. When you finally break away you’re gasping for air, arms slung around his neck as you stare at his eyes, a pretty shade of blue. “Yeah, you’re a 25 out of 25, Leon. I wouldn't expect anything less from you.”

The reciprocation of the kiss is enough for his heart to go crazy in your palms; his cheeks lift as he grins wider and pulls you in for a proper hug, a soft kiss to your forehead for good measure. “Does this mean i cani come by without the injuries now? Just for the sake of it?”

“You always could, Leon.” You hug him back just as tight, giggling as he squirms at your eyelashes flittering against his neck. Eventually you settle him to lay down properly, with you curled around his being. His arm is weakly around your shoulders, head sunk into the pillows as he lets out a long sigh. You can only listen to the quiet thump of a content heart, your hand tracing shapes on his chest as you tenderly watch his wound, worrying about it tearing.

“Sorry for scaring you.” He murmurs quietly and you can only shake your head tiredly, craning your head up to meet his eyes again. “You’re stuck here for the next three days. Doctors orders.”

He chuckles at that, even more so as your hand reaches upwards, rubbing his jaw gently before scratching at his scalp. He returns the action, rubbing your shoulder gently as your face presses against his muscles. “Alright, alright. I can't deny that now can i?”

Bonus:

It’s his third day here, but also a Friday too. He’s still not fully healed of course, the wound still a little worrying but nothing your heart cant handle. Especially when he’s carefully looked after in your hands—- literally. The morning sun peeks through the gaps in the curtains, making you rise although not fully, still half awake as you glance over. He’s got an arm behind his head, lips parted as he drools a little, and he looks so, so relaxed. The strain of his muscles have slackened, his face looking softer, younger even, as he breathes gently. Most of all, his hand is loose around your back, fingers poking into your waist.

You cant resist, leaning upwards to his sleepy face and pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of his cheek. It’s the first time he’s ever been caught off guard, his brows twitching in confusion and he lets out another small huff, head turning in your direction as if to seek you out. It’s adorable really, and you mourn all the years you two havent been together, havent experienced this before. It’s okay, because you have the rest of eternity for the two of you— doctors orders.

[allfortheslay25]

Bestie, your brain 👌👌👌 i love all of your aftg au's, mermaid and omegaverse especially. Any headcanons or other things you wish people would ask but haven't/generally be willing to share? Hope you're doing well 💜

Another au from the secret stash!

All for the Cult

I hid this one cuz I’m afraid it’d be controversial and up until this week, I hadn’t even shared it with my sister

I actually am writing a fic for it but the fic will not be published until it is completed. I don’t want to risk leaving it in the public on a hiatus so it’s safe with me until I can finish all the chapters

Basically instead of exy as the base of AFTG, it’s bastardized religion. Exy technically exists but instead of Tetsuji continuing Kayleigh and his pet project, he turns to forming a cult. Exy ends up being a dying sport no one really cares about unless it’s Kevin Day who still plays on the side of his true passion, communing with God.

Neil was a human sacrifice raised for slaughter until his mom took him and ran. Homeless and with no way out, Neil joins Wymack’s staff at his wayward home/church where junkies and sob stories go for their last second chance. No one actually has to pray to god or believe in the Bible’s teachings to work there as it is not a standard church and more like a theater than anything

The more kids Wymack recruits, the longer he gets to keep his church and program at the school

(Also side note but I was doing the comic of andreil but forgot my house looks like a Catholic Church threw up in it so I got awkward and couldn’t finish it)(oh and my sister renamed it all for the debauchery cuz she got to read the altar scene lol)

Key points and fun facts of this au:

- the Ravens are a cult cult instead of a sports cult

- Riko is obsessed with his holy trinity (perfect court)

- The Moriyamas are still a crime unit but Nathan is sort of a satanist on the side (Would like to say mass majority of satanists are not evil or bad, Nathan just is)

- Neil was born as a sacrifice. Mary took him and ran tho before the ritual

- The Foxes are ppl from broken pasts who work at Wymack’s church for scholarship/community service.

- Wymack’s church isn’t a standard catholic kind. He has his own unique spin on it so even those who aren’t religious can still work there. Campus students attend the services to watch the plays, hear the readings, listen to the choir, and some even use the confession box. Some even go to donate as the Foxes are connected to a bunch of charities

- Andrew is not a real priest. The cousins were apprentices for Luther for a couple years to get him off their backs. Because of his experience and eidetic memory, Wymack has Andrew do scripture readings and other tasks. In return, Andrew gets to be off the meds the entire time of mass

- the Foxes attend classes and work shifts at the church in their free time. If they flunk classes or skip church, their scholarship is revoked

- all of the Foxes live in the upstairs rooms above the church

- When Andrew first met Luther, Luther promised to take care of the Cass situation as long as Andrew gave God a try. Andrew only agreed to read the Bible and took Nicky’s since the Hemmicks were worried he’d vandalize a new one. Andrew thought it was a good read but mostly was humored by all of Nicky’s annotations

- Andrew doesn’t care about religion enough to hate it so he’s fine chilling around and hearing the preaching

- When Neil goes to the nest, he agrees to spend those weeks in Riko’s church where he’s ofc tortured. Riko no longer has the desire to sacrifice Neil as long as Neil joins his cult

- Renee holds a Bible study on Sunday evenings and Saturdays so weekends are Andrews days off

- Lots of their readings are done performatively with music, spoken word poetry, or with their own unique spins/translations of the text. (Every mass always starts with a disclaimer that what is being said/shown is their interpretation and not to be taken as the honest god given truth)

- whenever they raise enough money or supplies, the foxes celebrate by getting wasted; Wymack’s treat

- Betsy is still there for mandatory therapy sessions since the point of the scholarship is to rehabilitate troubled youth

- Abby is Wymack’s assistant but she also is a part time nurse

[ahgasegotarmy116]

BANG-ABLE | Jeon Jungkook | Drabble 1

Summary: When your very curious robot boyfriend finds all of your old sex toys. Pairing: f!reader x Sex Bot Jungkook Word Count: 2k~ Warnings: Smut but that goes without saying for this fic p.s. I put out a mini drabble as well right before this in case you didn't catch it hehe p.p.s I have another temperature play drabble request so keep an eye out for that one in the future 🤭 Requested by an anon 💜

"What are these?" Jungkook asks when he walks into the living room where I'm sat down watching Hidden Love for the fifth time, holding up my little black box that I had hidden away and had completely forgotten about.

"NOTHING!" I say hurriedly, scrambling to get off the couch and tripping over the blanket I was using in the process. I regain my footing, run up to him and reach for the box but he holds it over my head, completely out of my reach.

"Are you cheating on me?" he teases, the objects in the box being ones I used before I got him. "You seriously think I would use those anymore? Now give it here!" I jump but once my fingers just barely touch it he grabs onto my hips to keep me from trying again.

I glare, waiting for him to give them back and when all I'm given is a stupid smug smile I resort to threats. "Give that to me or I will turn you off and make you charge on the floor instead of in bed with me" his eyes widen, not expecting that and deciding to do as I say, handing me the box of various sex toys that could never truly satisfy me.

"Why do you have so many?" he asks, picking up one very elaborate and confusing looking one that I snatch out of his hand immediately and put back in the box, shoving it in the back of my closet.

"Because none of them did everything I wanted them to" I sigh and close the door in hopes to help change the subject. When I try to walk past him though he stops me by wrapping an arm around my waist and bringing me back to stand in front of him.

"I don't know why I asked since I know how needy my baby is" he says, his voice dropping a bit while he places kisses on my neck, knowing that'll help take the edge off.

"Why do you always have to go through my t-things?" I stutter, my resolve of trying to stay upset with him faltering. "Because I wanna know everything about you baby, and that includes all of your dirty little secrets" he says directly into my ear before sucking on the sensitive skin right below.

I shudder at the thought of letting him in that much and I know I will eventually but his want to figure out as many ways as he can to please me on his own is way too fun to experience, no matter how embarrassing it might seem.

"You like that huh? The thought of me knowing everything about you, all your deepest darkest desires that you haven't even dared to say out loud. My baby likes to hide that away huh? Too afraid to even tell me what she wants sometimes. That's pretty selfish don't you think?" he says, his grip on my waist tightening when he pulls me closer, his sensors picking up on my arousal and in turn hardening his length for me to use as I see fit.

"Why don't you let me use some of those on you tonight hm? Or better yet, let me watch you use them to get yourself off. I bet you'd look adorable, so frustrated and begging for release but never quite getting exactly what you wanted" he says but I shake my head.

"Too cold, want you" his presence tonight being one that drove me into submission so easily. I can't help but become putty in his hands sometimes. He was made for me and knows exactly what I like so why not give into what his programing is telling him to do to me.

"Aw, too cold for you? Needed me to warm you up?" he says, his condescending way of talking to me one of the easiest ways to tip me into that submissive headspace, only with him though. With him things are different. With him I know I'm safe.

I nod my head and my lip juts out the slightest bit leaving him running his thumb along it before I decide to open my mouth and run my tongue across it. His robotic pupils dilate as if they were human and the next second I'm on my back on my bed, him hovering over me with that sexy smug look on his face.

"Does my pretty baby want something?" he asks, caressing my cheek with a featherlight touch, and I blink up at him, still reeling from his sudden actions. He hums as a way to get my attention on him again, wanting me to answer his question.

"Want you" I say, hoping he'll accept my simple answer but I know he won't settle for that. "You've gotta be a little more specific love" he teases making me huff. "Oh come on, be a good girl for me and tell me what you want hm?" he mumbles and peppers kisses all along my neck and collarbone, having worn just a tank top and shorts today.

His hands heat up and run along my skin, warming me up just like he said he would but suddenly his hands turn ice cold, making me push him away but as always he doesn't budge at all.

"What the matter love?" he taunts, his hands quickly going back to a normal temperature. "Don't do that" I scowl, not liking the sudden change. "Lemme play around a bit yeah? Wanna try something" he says, clearly ignoring my scolding.

I squint my eyes at him when he looks down at me, a stupidly tempting look on his face. "Just trust me" he says, leaning down to mumble it against my lips, just barely kissing me before pulling back and looking at me again for confirmation.

After thinking for a couple more seconds I nod my head and he tongues his cheek, a habit that he picked up from who knows where but something that's become so sexy to me and he knows it.

He helps me strip out of my clothes and lets out a groan in approval, running his fingers through my folds.

"Baby is so wet for me already and I've barely done anything. How adorable. Been waiting all day for me to touch you huh?" he says, watching as my mouth falls open when he applies pressure on my clit just how I like it, tracing circles around it and alternating with just barely dipping a finger into my entrance, never giving me what I really want, playing with me just like he said he would.

When his fingers start to touch me with more precision, one finger pumping inside of me while his thumb circles my clit I feel that same chill run though my body and I realize his hands have gone cold inside me making me yelp and back away from him but he growls and uses his other hand to grip my hip pinning me down on the bed to keep me from moving.

"Stay still for me love, promise it'll feel good" he says and I decide to trust him. He knows what my body wants and what it can handle, the signs to look out for to know what's going on in my head.

"So good for me" he says, kissing me and starting to pump his fingers in and out of me again, adding a second one right away but switching the temperature back to a warmer one to help with the stretch.

Once he starts to feel that I've gotten used to the intrusion he changes the temperature just cold enough so I can feel it, my back arching as the only way I can move about since he's still got my hips pinned against the mattress.

"Shh I know I know. You can take it though, it's just a little cold love" he coaches, his cold fingers dragging along my warm walls making me wince. "This is w-why I stopped using them, t-too cold" I admit although I already had before, hoping that in some way that would make him stop but he doesn't.

"You know I'll take care of you though" he says, the temperature of his fingers changing back to normal now, giving me a bit of a breather but soon he's pulling them out of me making me wince for another reason.

"Where are you going?" I whine but he only laughs and gets off the bed to take off his clothes before crawling back on top of me. "My baby is so impatient, aren't you?" he chuckles, settling between my legs and dragging his tip along my folds, his brows furrowed in concentration while collecting my slick and rubbing it all over his cock.

"Just put it in already, please" I basically cry out, the temperature play leaving me incredible sensitive and he knows it, not letting up with this sick form of torture. He places his tip against my entrance, not pushing in and just teasing my hole and when I open my mouth to protest he shoves himself into me, knocking the wind out of me, his response a hum, clearly satisfied with the results of his actions.

"Couldn't even wait for me to fuck you like I wanted to, needed my cock in you so bad that you couldn't even shut up and wait. Thought you wanted to be good for me tonight" he grunts, slamming into me at a relentless pace, his robotic strength being unparalleled in bed. I sob, the intensity and the need to catch my breath overwhelming me in the best way possible but when he chances the temperature of his dick I'm screaming for him to change it back.

"Stop running" he growls, grabbing my hips and sitting back on his heels so he can fuck me onto him, pushing and pulling my hips so fast making my breasts bounce up and down. "Fuck play with your tits. Wanna ruin you but my baby can lend me a hand or two can't she?" he says, talking down to me like I'm fucking stupid when I clearly am, cock drunk and barely able to see straight.

I slowly bring my hands up my torso, ghosting my fingers along my breasts, "S-shit" he stutters, his programing really playing the part and making me moan at his reaction. "Play with your nipples baby, get them nice and hard for me" he says, his hands dragging my hips back and forth making his length disappear inside of me over and over, never ceasing making my cock drunk mind go blurry, my reaction speed severely diminished.

He decides to give me a breather, stopping his movements and putting his fingers in my mouth, my lips closing around them right away. "Make a mess baby" he say, encouraging me to get them as wet as possible, my tongue swirling around them, a pool of saliva now gathered and making a complete mess, exactly how he wanted.

He takes them out of my mouth and my brows furrow, not wanting to stop since the approving gaze he gave me while I did it being something I didn't want to give up just yet. He chuckles and rubs his fingers together, making sure his thumb, pointer and middle finger are covered before using them to play with my nipple making me whine at the harsh pressure.

"Shh it's okay, I got you" he coaches, the cold temperature making my nipples harden painfully, goosebumps now present all over my body. 

"My baby gets so cold so easily. Want me to warm you up again?" he taunts and I nod my head, the rate of his thrusts though making it difficult to decipher but he knows and so he switches to a warmer temperature making me sigh in delight. It quickly goes from too cold to way too warm making me moan in delight, the scorching temperature being painfully pleasurable.

"Don't worry baby, it's not gonna leave a mark, I wouldn't hurt my pretty girl. Unless she wanted me to" he says, the offer enticing enough to make me think twice but I shake my head 'no' and he takes it.

"Baby doesn't wanna be branded? That's okay, I'll take good care of you" he coos and that he does.

Over and over and over. 

Drabble Masterlist

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[keferon]

Just want to say, love your mimick au. I only found it like, an hour ago and I've devoured everything in the tag and I'm planning to do the same to the spellbound and monster hunter aus.

That said, in one of the mimick fanfics, Orion tells Prowl to leave him alone and to find a hobby, but a comic that (presumably) happens after this conversation when Orion meets Jazz, Orion seems to be back to working with Prowl. I thought the whole "leave me alone" order would go on infinitely because Orion didn't seem to have his goal locked down and he also never specified when to come back. So how did they return to working together? Did Orion find Prowl post-meltdown, or was it Prowl who just set an arbitrary amount of time before going back to Orion and going "so, how do you feel about defying god?" I just find Orion and Prowl's relationship so interesting in this au, simply because of how Orion doesn't seem to apply his morals about freedom and coexistence to Prowl despite the fact he's the one who points out that Prowl didn't include himself in his calculations, but at the same time, if he doesn't recognize Prowl's autonomy and only sees him as a tool (chatGPT style), he would have to accept that he's the one responsible for Prowl's actions because he's the one using him. But also also, Prowl encourages him to not take responsibility for all the immoral actions (like killing monsters to keep the Council's favor), which I think Orion does take up, but that would indirectly be accepting Prowl as a individual capable of making his own decisions, you know? It also the fact that Orion and Prowl both have different (and somewhat incompatible) ways of communicating. I was thinking when Orion asked Prowl to what he'd do to make the most amount of mechs happy, Prowl understood it literally: the majority of the population are non-monsters, so statistically, he'd focus on making non-monsters happy. But Orion doesn't want to make most mechs happy; he wants a diverse and equitable society, and that doesn't necessarily lead to happiness, especially in transition phases. Even in the academy, monsters are learning to compromise to live in a non-monster society; compromises are about restriction, which often aren't a source of happiness. But Orion equates that vision to happiness, and probably gets a bad impression of Prowl given "free reign" from his answer. It's great, it's so juicy.

And contrasts so well with how Prowl and Jazz interact and communicate with each other. Like how Prowl makes an attempt to learn hand language for Jazz in the same way he attempts to comfort Orion post-Shockwave demonification. But unlike Orion who has "Prowl is not alive" at the core of their dynamic, Jazz doesn't know and sees Prowl's attempt to learn as a genuine attempt to understand/communicate. You can argue that Prowl is just "programmed" to try and get more information and it's just efficient to ensure Jazz doesn't get carpal tunnel while working together, but you can also argue that we're all programmed to do that as well; small talk or bids for attention are behaviors/actions to build connection through information exchange that we are trained to do from formative years and general society. Which is to say, even if Prowl learns and tries to accommodate Jazz for mission purposes, it doesn't negate the fact that he is investing effort into communicating and building the foundation for a meaningful connection in the same way other people do. It's great, I'm having a blast with the whole AU.

Orion despite being afraid to continue his mission still has responsibilities in his Order so him and Prowl. Yeah hahah they just keep working together but purely on their usual legal tasks. I didn’t talk about the whole situation enough yet but basically Prowl never informed Orion about his new quest of suing God. Primarily because he knows that Orion definitely will try to stop him.

It’s kind of like. “What isn’t forbidden can automatically be considered allowed” mentality.

Also MY GOD YES. My favourite part of this au is reading asks like yours:0 Prowl exists in that thin line between being and not being a person capable of his own choices. Orion exists on the thin line between considering him being one of those options. He can’t see Prowl as a “real mech” because he knows for a fact it’s not true. But then seeing him as a tool means accepting that all questionable things he does are Orion’s responsibility.

At the end of the day Prowl is a metaphorical piece of fabric Orion uses to clean his consciousness. In his eyes Prowl isn’t alive enough to be fully blamed for all the bad things he does but he is also alive just enough for Orion to say “it was your fault. Not mine.”

Jazz doesn’t have that dilemma. Uh. Yet haha he will discover the truth eventually of course~. He thinks Prowl is obviously a real mech because in his world magic isn’t alive. It can create an illusion of a mech, sure, this is what all usual golems are, but it’s not smart or believable enough. It’s like one of those tests where all people think they can tell if they’re talking to an AI chat bot because “duh I would obviously know” and then fail to distinguish AI from a real person. Jazz is perceptive but he doesn’t know what to look for. All he knows is that Prowl is somehow doesn’t love anyone but seems to care about of things that aren’t people.

Also it’s a bit unrelated but I find it soooo interesting playing with the usual concepts of magic and technology. Because usually magic is perceived as something more “coming from your heart” and “connected with emotions” while technology tends to be more “soulless” and “emotionless”. And then we have the entire world of robots who think they are alive and magic isn’t :)

[ftgirlboss]

omni-man loved debbie. he LOVES debbie. not only did he love her enough to postpone his plans of conquering earth for his kind (which was his sole purpose in life) he loved her enough to let her DOMESTICATE him for 20 WHOLE YEARS. which in his 10,000 year lifespan is nothing, as he said, but it made him HAPPY. he did it because he wanted to, because IT SIMPLY MADE HIM HAPPY! to live that life of his own volition! he went as far as to start saving people, beings he deemed as “lesser than him”, clothe himself with a ridiculous superhero suit and join forces with other heroes to help keep earth safe. he arrived with values completely different from the human species, and in such a short amount of time debbie made him CHANGE his values to fit a humans, made him feel love and joy for the most trivial moments like watching his son win a silly sports game. he would have waited until debbie died naturally to conquer earth because he wouldn’t physically be able to make himself kill her, and he also wouldn’t be able to force her to live in a viltrumite dominated world, full of cruelty, where she would either get killed for being too weak or ACTUALLY be used as a pet. he made himself smaller, more pliant and obedient for her, so she would not even think to be afraid of him in any possible situation. didn’t force her to be dependent on him and his powers. he changed for her, fit himself into the mold of a loving husband and father, and was practically disgusted with himself when he realized he lost his viltrumite ways and that he would be considered as “weak” back on his planet. went against his teachings for what? A few years with a human woman just to know what real warmth felt like? had a child with her, raised him with the values of his mother and prayed he never got his powers, so he could keep postponing his mission. no viltrumite ever strayed from their path… oh, except for omni of course! i wonder why?? For the fun of it? even when he finally convinced himself he was still the conqueror he was raised to be, he couldn’t force himself to say the words to debbie directly. he could not admit that it was all a lie because it just wasn’t, he could never fake his emotions that he literally learned because of her (and that weren’t just engraved/programmed into him like his viltrumite beliefs were) He never told her directly WHY he killed the guardians because he knew with all his disgust and disappointment, that no excuse would be acceptable. the only thing he could do is run and hide from her hate (killing her never was an option) and leave earth if he cannot succeed in his viltrum plan AND have his family at the same time (because as much as he likes to stroke his own ego and repeat how humans have a short lifespan and are therefore lesser and basically unimportant in the grand scheme of things, he would have done anything to spend all her human years peacefully with her). he TRIED choosing viltrum but he could never fully let go of nolan grayson and the man he became . and all it took was a human woman he apparently saw as a “pet”, a son he deemed “a failure” and some measly years spent with them as a family.

anyways season 1 was alright i guess

[bi-writes]

If you have time I am kindly asking for Simon and the teams POV on the arranged marriage fic!! Like why they put that ad out! I also think they’re silly for doing the whole ceremony in their gear 👉👈

the arrangement prequel

it wasn't much of a choice. ghost knew this was coming, knew this might happen--disciplinary action from the increasingly...unorthodox ways he was coming back from an op.

one too many times, a capture or kill became looking for the pieces of their target scattered across the field. an accident on the way back to interrogation--he doesn't know how his blade ended up embedded in their mark's throat. he misfired his gun--it's too bad it went straight through that prisoner's forehead.

disobeying without saying no. taking matters into his own hands without exactly defying the rules. ghost had been walking along the boundary line for a long while, and he knew eventually someone would realize the risks he was taking.

it was kate's idea. ghost needed something to chew on, something to satiate the hunger in his bones. a companionship, is what she tells price, but even he knew that was a stretch. anything given to ghost would surely be shredded apart on impact. anything that belongs to him ends up tucked underneath layers of shadows, not to be seen again.

but ghost is the best at what he does. all kate needs is for him to fucking listen once in a while.

when they ride back in the humvee, ghost is fiddling with the chamber of his pistol when price speaks up.

"got somethin' new," he says, looking into the rearview mirror. the sergeants shuffle a little closer to hear him. "new program between CIA and SAS. pilot program, not...exactly routine. but they'd like one of you lot to be the first to participate."

"what is it?"

price clears his throat, "the legality is a grey area. but both parties need to be willing."

"spit it out, cap'n."

"an arrangement of sorts," he says finally. "it's...not a secret 's hard to keep a bird with the things we do...always away, hard to reach. but you're the best at what you do, and i think if you take it seriously, it could be good for one of ya."

soap snorts. "cap'n, ye wanna play matchmaker with us? see if we're worthy of little bonnie spies?"

price snorts, rolling his eyes, "i need you to set an example, is what i need. i need one of you to step forward."

ghost looks up when he says that. his eyes flicker, and he looks at his captain, who keeps his eyes on the road as he drives. he hears what price doesn't say. this is your punishment, he imagines. and you will take it and not say a word, like the lieutenant that you are.

in the dark of his room later that evening, he opens the file with your name typed across the front. CONFIDENTIAL it reads, and he flips the manila folder to spread your profile out onto the desk.

you're smiling in the first photo. it's a headshot, from high school maybe, from college, a pretty photo of you beaming at a camera with a nice background. he eyes your height, weight, measurements, the skills they've identified and the answers to your questions about why you want to participate in the program.

Q: What kind of partner are you looking for? A: Resistant. Unmovable. Loyal.

Q: Why do you want to participate in this program? A: I'm tired of being disappointed.

Q: What are some of the qualities you possess you would like your partner to know about you? A: I'm not afraid of what I don't know.

short answers, straight to the point. affirmative and honest, with no room for interpretation. ghost doesn't need interpretation; he knows what it is you're saying.

when he looks back at your picture, he brings it closer, narrowing his eyes as he studies you. the smile you wear, while beautiful, isn't real. it's a persona, a ruse, a costume that you wear to put the outside world at ease. you understand that a smile makes you agreeable, but he knows, somehow he knows, that there must be a tick that you feel that no one is able to quiet, an anger and a lilt to the soft voice you must speak in that carries the weight of your defiance and your disappointment with everything the world is that you thought it wouldn't be.

ghost isn't told that the program is a lie. you aren't an operative for the CIA, you aren't some kind of spy in need of company. when he reads the rest of your file, he is amused because he knows the rest is made-up bullshit that doesn't apply to you. you are as civilian as they come, but with how well you lie, he wonders if you should be recruited just for that.

with just a little training, he thinks perhaps you might be everything your country needs and more. a little blood wouldn't scare you.

it's weeks later when ghost eyes the date on his calendar. he has marked it with an X, black marker haphazardly traced there to indicate the day. he told price he doesn't want bells and whistles--no music, no men, no party. an unmarked room and his bride is all that is necessary.

he steps outside to smoke a cigarette. he sucks on it gently, blowing it out to the side, and he eyes the car that pulls onto base carefully. when price steps out of the drivers' seat, ghost stubs out the cigarette and turns the corner. he catches a glimpse of a lace veil before he disappears.

and when he steps into the room hours later, your back to him, he can't help the way his pupils dilate and the way his body goes rigid with rage. there you are, standing there, in white silk and lace, your back to him but the picture of elegance and the presence of something honestly deserving.

it is only when he lifts the veil off of your face and sees those eyes that he understands what you are, what you wear.

a façade, a beautiful mask of your own, to cover up the ugly you hold on the inside.

he smiles under the mask when you kiss him over the fabric. because fuck, yes...he doesn't care where you have come from. he doesn't care that they lied about who you are, that they didn't tell him the truth, that in all honesty, they have given you to die and you don't know it--he doesn't care because it worked, at least for him. the finest flesh he has ever set his eyes on. he cannot wait to brand you for what you are worth.

if they meant to punish him for the crimes he has committed, he is sorry. because you are his reward, and there is no hell to pay.

[scariusaquarius]

rehab. 12.

Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Winter Soldier! Fem! Reader

Summary: While on a mission to find any more possible super soldiers that were a part of the Winter Soldier program, Steve and Bucky make a discovery in an abandoned HYDRA base that was cleared out a few years prior to their mission. They discover the Reader, a long-forgotten soldier that was still asleep within a functioning cryostasis pod; still awaiting orders. While Bucky isn't happy about it, he is put up to the challenge of helping to rehabilitate the soldier in Wakanda where she may be able to become a person again.

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A/n: So, we got to see a bit into the world of (Y/n) (L/n), and now we get to see how the Avengers are dealing with the information that they have recovered. Also, thank you so much for all of the birthday wishes!!! 25 doesn't feel any different RIP ;asldfja;sdflk Also, if you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee! If you would prefer to read Rehab on Archive, you may do so right HERE!

This is an au where Bucky joined the avengers but still rehabilitated in Wakanda (sometime before Infinity War [canon divergent cause NOPE]). I am NOT fluent in Russian, so I did use google translate cause I couldn't find a good translator that I trusted. If anything is wrong, PLEASE let me know!! Also, I tried to list as many warnings as possible so you know what the story will contain as chapters are posted. Stay safe!

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Genre: Slowburn, Enemies to Lovers/Friends to Lovers, Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Humor, Drama, Dark Content Rated: Explicit Warning: Angst, Dark Content: Graphic Depictions of Sexual Assault, Blood and Gore, Mentions of Manipulation, Kidnapping, Canon-Typical Violence, Body Horror, Nonconsensual Body Modification/Scarring, Emotional and Physical Abuse, Mentions of Murder, Mentions of Suicidal Thoughts/Ideation, Graphic Depictions of Human Remains, Mentions of Sexual Coercion/Manipulation, Death, Misuse of Drugs/Forced Drugging, Self-Harm (Graphic Depictions and Mentions), Nightmares

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Author: ScariusAquarius

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rehab masterlist. chapter 10 / chapter 11

When Steve and Clint arrived back in Wakanda, they were eager to tell the Avengers what they had found. However, when they arrived back at Shuri's lab, Tony looked as though he had seen a ghost. Steve frowned, and Natasha whispered to him.

"It's not looking too good right now. Shuri and Tony found the calling card for the creator behind the chip. Turns out that Tony's got a bit of history with the creator."

Steve and Clint walked into the lab where Tony was watching over the soldier with a hand to his chin in thought. Despite Steve greeting the man, Tony didn't seem to hear him. After a moment, Tony stated.

"You ever get this feeling that you're being haunted by something? No matter how much you try to get rid of it, it just keeps following you? Somehow, someway?"

Steve couldn't help but to think of Peggy, nodding solemnly before he turned to look at (Y/n) (L/n).

"Some things haunt me, some things just follow. I don't think they're entirely the same."

Tony scoffed, shaking his head as he quipped.

"Yeah, well it is in this case. You see, I just took apart that little chip that made MC 2 go haywire, and you know what I found? The calling card to a scientist that used to work closely with my father...someone that my father used to recall as a very good friend."

Steve was confused for a moment before connecting the dots, and he asked.

"Was his name Robert (L/n)?"

Tony nodded, and Steve couldn't help but to shake his head.

"Well, that explains a lot, actually."

"Why do you say that?"

Steve wordlessly handed Tony the file, and Bucky's eyes shot wide open.

"Wait, is that her file? You found her?"

Steve nodded, but his jaw was clenched so hard that Bucky was afraid to ask about it. Tony slapped the paper down onto the table roughly after a few moments of reading and walked out of the room wordlessly, and Bucky snatched the paper up.

(Y/n) (L/n).

The last name sparked a bit of recognition in Bucky, but he couldn't place the familiarity of the name just yet. Bucky was perturbed about the way Tony had reacted, and he asked.

"What's his deal?"

Shuri sighed and revealed gently, pulling up some documents of Robert (L/n).

"Robert (L/n) was a close friend of Howard Stark's up until Project Rebirth. After Erskine was assassinated and Heinz Kruger attempted to steal the serum, Robert continued HYDRA's work under the guise of a fellow scientist that wanted to defeat HYDRA."

"A double agent? How do we know all of this about him?"

Natasha raised a hand, stating.

"I found some files about him on the databanks that you and Bucky downloaded from the facility that the soldier was found in. I didn't think it was relevant at the time cause the files didn't include pictures, and we didn't know the name of the soldier yet."

Shuri nodded and she brought up a few pictures and files, the pictures of Robert and his unfriendly sneer. The man was overwhelmingly tall and quite lean, hair greased and combed while a mustache adorned his top lip. There was a woman next to him, looking happy as she held a hand to her pregnant belly; seemingly naive to the sinister gaze within Robert's eyes.

"This here is his wife, Doris (Y/n). We don't think she knew anything about Robert's double life with HYDRA...but she was also good friends with Maria Stark before Maria married Howard. She helped to deliver Tony when he was born."

Steve's eyebrows shot up, and Clint groaned gently, rubbing his head.

"Man, this is starting to hurt my head. So, Robert was with HYDRA, befriended and used Howard's trust to gain information on the serum...yet some other guy tried to snatch it? Why do that?"

Natasha replied, pointing out.

"If the attention isn't on you, you can get a lot more done."

Clint's expression changed to one of understanding, and Shuri nodded in agreement.

"Yes. Though, with Heinz being unsuccessful, Robert attempted to copy Howard's serum to the best of his ability. Robert was unsuccessful. In reports that he had made, almost all of the subjects that he experimented on did not survive any trial serums he made."

"So, how was he able to make (Y/n) into a super soldier?"

Shuri pursed her lips and brought up a newspaper article that went into detail about (Y/n)'s supposed death.

"While (Y/n) was on the way to Baltimore with her mother, they crashed into another vehicle after hitting ice. Their car caught fire, and both Doris and (Y/n) were announced dead at the scene."

"I'm guessing (Y/n) wasn't actually dead, and Robert or HYDRA picked her up."

Clint scratched his head, asking.

"Why go after her though? What made (Y/n) special?"

Natasha shrugged before offering with a slight wave of her hand.

"Robert must have used blood samples to specifically cater the serum to the subject, and (Y/n) was the only one that was successful."

Bucky grumbled, shaking his head.

"Hello, super soldier."

Steve nodded, and he turned to Shuri, asking her.

"Is Robert still alive?"

"No. Robert passed away from natural causes in 2008. I assume that this is when Rollins took over as her Handler, but we won't know for sure until (Y/n) wakes up."

Bucky suddenly felt bad, wondering if there was anybody else that might have been family for (Y/n), and Steve sat down next to Bucky, stating quietly as Shuri began to work on deprogramming the soldier.

"We found her, Bucky."

"We haven't found her yet. She's still trapped beneath that rubble somewhere...we just know her name now...know that she had a family...a career...a mom and dad..."

Steve pursed his lips, and Bucky revealed to the captain, giving him an intrigued expression.

"She somehow knows Meltzer Woods, and it's bothering me that I don't know why. You remember me telling you about how my folks and I would go on walks there often?"

Steve nodded, chuckling.

"Oh, yeah. I remember you telling me about how you terrorized Rebecca to the point your mom was livid with you one time while your dad was at the camp."

"Not my fault she had a fear of bugs and agreed to go into the woods."

The two men chuckled, and Bucky sighed, shaking his head. Steve muttered gently, patting Bucky on the back.

"It could just also be nothing...a huge coincidence."

Bucky shook his head, muttering.

"There are no such thing as coincidences when it comes to HYDRA."

Steve gazed long and hard at Bucky before looking back at the woman, watching as a machine carefully and slowly reconstructed the bone and tissue of her skull before it seemed as though she had never been operated.

"Am I interrupting?"

Tony walked in, hands in his pockets, and his cheeks and eyes were slightly red. It seemed as though the man had been crying, but neither of the super soldiers commented about it.

Tony stood at the end of the bed and stared at the woman, a neutral expression on his face before his shoulders fell slightly. Steve asked the man gently, sparing a look at Bucky before looking back at Tony.

"Do you want us to give you some space?"

Tony looked perplexed then, as if the question was one that he had never heard before, and he wasn't exactly sure how to respond. While Tony preferred to be on his own and do things on his own (minus Pepper, but she was a different case), Tony knew that there had to come a point when he stopped ostracizing those around him.

'Solitude and isolation are two completely different things, Tony, and I know that you struggle a lot with that because of your childhood with your dad,' his therapist had said.

'Why don't you try to reach out and be a little bit more open? You don't have to reveal everything at once, but take it a step at a time. Choose what you want them to listen to or help you with. With what you've told me, I think the Avengers just really want to be your friend, and that's okay.'

"One step at a time," Tony muttered to himself before he huffed, glancing down at the ground. Tapping his foot with anxiety, Tony crossed his arms and began to speak.

"There's this feeling that nags at me every time I look at your stupid perfect faces...this feeling of just...trying to understand why my dad was apart of something as big as this."

Steve and Bucky both sat back in their seats, almost at attention as Tony began to open up to them.

"It's because of my dad's work that led to you being Captain America, that led to your torture and time as Winter Soldier, and now...now he's directly linked to her. Granted, it wasn't really him directly...but he sure did have a big hand."

Erskine's face crossed into Steve's mind, and Steve looked away, replying.

"Howard wanted to ensure a way that we could fight against HYDRA and the Nazis so that the Allied forces could win the war. I don't think he meant for things to turn out like they did."

"Sometimes I wish I could go back into time and just choke the bastard. All that goddamn intellect and look where it got us."

Bucky was quiet, glancing down at his metal arm before he looked at Tony. He wasn't really sure what to say; if anything at all. How could you comfort the man whose parents you killed? That wasn't exactly a can of worms that Bucky wanted to open. Instead, he stated.

"I think what is important now is that we give this woman a life and finally eradicate HYDRA once and for all. If not for her, then...for you and Howard."

He gave Tony a gentle but shy look; hoping that the man wouldn't lash out at him, and Tony looked as though he wasn't sure what to say. Placing a hand over his chest and the other onto his chin, Tony hummed.

"If Rollins already knew that she had been awakened and thought that she would be a liability, then that means there has to be a main line to the chip. If we can trace that, then we should be able to find Rollins."

Natasha suddenly plopped down beside the soldier, throwing a thumb drive onto the table with a haughty smirk as she kicked her feet up.

"Did I really outsmart Iron Man? I think I should add that to my resume."

"You don't have a resume. You legally can't."

Tony quipped back with a roll of his eyes and he snatched the thumb drive as Natasha just grinned wider.

"Listen, miracles happen all of the time, but that doesn't mean they happen again in the same lifetime. Don't get your hopes up, spider-granny."

"Did you just call me old?"

Tony shrugged before uploading the files that were onto the drive into his computer, and he brought up a hologram of the earth, a beacon of light shooting up from the main source of the signal. Tony sighed gently, tilting his head.

"You know, I was dreaming about Morocco last night."

"Fez, Morocco?"

Steve questioned, looking a bit confused before he turned to Natasha.

"What's there?"

"If I had to guess: another secret base for HYDRA?"

Steve pursed his lips as Natasha just shrugged, and Bucky crossed his arms as he stood tall.

"We should get there as soon as possible. The faster that we catch Rollins, the better off we'll be."

"Slow your horses, MC 1, we need to be smart about this."

Tony gave Bucky a firm look, and Bucky just squinted his eyes as Tony began to explain.

"It's possible that Rollins knows that we know about the chip. We want to stay ahead of the game here. Luckily, we have the answers right here."

Tony brought up another hologram that pictured a document with a list of names.

"FRIDAY, you wanna read this out?"

The AI immediately answered, zooming in on each city she named out.

"Of course, Mr. Stark. After scanning through all of the documents that were recovered from liberated and abandoned HYDRA bases, as well as scans through the black book and red book, I have compiled a complete list of all mentioned HYDRA bases, as well as a list of possible locations as well. Here are the locations."

Isle Trinidad, South America. (Liberated, NLA.)

The Shelf, Antarctica. (Location Unspecified. Possible operation.)

Himalayas (Location unspecified. Possible operation.)

The Red Room, Russia. (Destroyed. NLA.)

Swiss Alps, Switzerland. (Directly mentioned. Possible operation.)

"There were many more locations mentioned, but since they have been destroyed and are no longer active, I have elected to leave those out. There has been no indication of a base in Fez, Morocco. It is possible that Mr. Rollins has planted the main communicator in order to escape."

Natasha hummed, nodding.

"That's the smart move. Rollins seems to already know that we're after him. The best thing that he can do is plant the communication device then get the hell out of dodge while we're on a wild goose chase."

Steve shook his head, huffing deeply.

"We can't investigate a possibility without having concrete evidence of his presence. If we go in somewhere blind, we're not only giving Rollins the upper hand, but we open ourselves up to risk as well."

Bucky added while glancing back at (Y/n).

"There's a possibility that Rollins knows that we're here. If we're all busy with a mission trying to find him, he could come here to retrieve her."

Tony shrugged, offering.

"Okay, then let's wake her up. See how bad her brain is scrambled and see if she knows where Rollins could be."

Steve became stern, shaking his head.

"Tony, that's not possible. (Y/n) needs time to recover and heal. If we overwhelm her, we're only going to hurt her."

Tony ran a hand through his hair, looking frustrated, and Steve said carefully.

"We're going to bring Rollins to justice and we're going to eradicate HYDRA once and for all. I promise you that."

"Oh, don't you go all patriotic on me. It's not even the fourth of July yet."

Bucky pursed his lips to keep from chuckling as Steve glared at Tony, and Natasha just rolled her eyes.

"So, why don't we compromise? We have a whole team of people back at the compound that we can send out to each location to cut any and all possibilities. I can already think of some teams to get together."

Tony's eyebrows raised, a skeptical look on his face as he asked.

"Yeah? What you got, Romanoff?"

Natasha hummed, shrugging her shoulders.

"FRIDAY gave us three locations, Wakanda being a possible fourth because of the soldier being here. King T'Challa, Shuri, and Bucky can stay here to watch over her since they're already here. Since you and Pete have heated suits, I think you two and maybe Banner could go to the Shelf. Clint, Wanda, and I can go to the Swiss Alps. Steve, Thor, and Sam Wilson can go to the Himalayas."

Steve made an expression of approval, but Tony shook his head, stating.

"I really don't want to involve the kid in this."

"Tony, he's an Avenger too."

Tony snapped, standing up straight as he glared at Steve.

"Yeah, and he's still a goddamn kid, Cap. I'm not involving him. End of discussion. I'll have Vision go instead."

Bucky offered, shrugging his shoulders.

"Okay, so what if he came here? He'd still be safe, and we could benefit from his webs in case something happens or (Y/n) freaks out. He's not in as much danger as he would be out in the Shelf."

Natasha muttered, looking off to the side.

"Or you could stop babying and let the kid be a hero. He's got the neighborhood under control, I hear."

Tony whipped his gaze towards Natasha, a look of betrayal on his face, and Natasha stared right back. Tony huffed and gave Bucky a harsh look.

"Fine. I'll have Underoos come here, but you're responsible if something happens. Do you understand?"

Bucky nodded, and Tony muttered to himself.

"I'm going to regret this somehow. I know it. Let's just get everyone suited up."

Tony stalked off, and Natasha patted Bucky's arm, making him slightly recoil and give her an unamused look as she walked by.

"Nice thinking on your end."

Bucky grumbled to himself, and Steve asked Bucky with a gentle voice and kind expression.

"You gonna be okay?"

"As much as I wanna kick Rollins' face in, I wouldn't be any help to the team. I'll lose control if I see him...so it's best that I stay here."

Steve nodded before he embraced the man, Bucky tensing slightly before awkwardly hugging the man back.

"I'll keep you updated and let you know if I find anything. First thing."

Bucky nodded, and Steve saluted Bucky with a shit-eating grin before walking off. When Bucky was finally alone, his shoulders dropped, an exhausted look coming across his face before he sat down next to the soldier.

(Y/n) (L/n) looked peaceful. There was no pain, no indication of dreams or nightmares, and she looked even younger without the fear and anger on her face. Despite the horrific scars that lined the bottom half of her face and the grease within her hair and the oil on her skin, Bucky had to think that she was pretty.

'You were right...she is pretty.'

-

STORY NOTES: Steve and Clint have arrived back in Wakanda. Despite the success of their mission, they come back to Natasha warning them that Tony is not in a very good mood after he and Shuri successfully took the chip apart and identified the creator, who is revealed to be Robert (L/n). Tony asks Steve if he ever feels as though he is being haunted, which Steve replies accordingly.

Steve then gives the file containing information about the soldier and her father, and Tony becomes upset and walks out of the lab. Bucky is elated that Steve was able to find out who the soldier was, and when Bucky is finally able to know her name, he is perturbed by a feeling of familiarity from it. He asks what was wrong with Tony, and Shuri goes into depth about the history Robert and Howard Stark had together, as well as (Y/n)'s mother and Maria Stark.

Clint is confused by Robert playing a double agent while another HYDRA agent attempted to steal the serum, which Natasha explains that 'if the attention isn't on you, you can get a lot more done,' implying that Heinz was just a useful distraction. Steve asks how (Y/n) was able to be turned into a super soldier, and Natasha theorizes that Robert had used blood samples to test the serum with, and (Y/n) was the only match out of all his experiments.

After a few more minutes of discussion and Bucky is left alone with Steve, Shuri, and (Y/n). Steve attempts to comfort Bucky, reassuring him that they had been able to find her, but Bucky does not agree that she is completely saved yet. He reveals that he is still bothered by the soldier knowing about Meltzer Woods, and Steve suggests that it is a coincidence.

Tony enters the lab, and though he is uncomfortable, he reflects on the advice his therapist has given him about being more open to vulnerability and depending on others. He begins to reveal the way he is feeling to Steve and Bucky and how he is angry at his father for being apart of Project Rebirth while knowing how dangerous the work he was doing was. While Steve comforts Tony, Tony is too upset to understand what Steve is saying. Bucky offers comforting words as well, and Tony is unable to reply.

Instead, Tony begins to talk about Rollins and the main signal for the chip. The signal is traced to Fez, Morocco, and Bucky jumps the gun, wanting to leave. However, Tony refutes Bucky's thinking, stating that the Avengers need to be smart about this mission. Tony theorizes that Jack Rollins might already know that the Avengers know about the chip. Instead, he has FRIDAY bring up a list of known HYDRA bases that were mentioned or alluded to in the data they had recovered.

FRIDAY indicates that Rollins could have planted the main communicator since there is no known HYDRA activity at all within Fez, and Natasha agrees that it was a smart move. Natasha then suggests that the Avengers split into teams to go to or stay in each respective location (Swiss Alps, Himalayas, Antarctica, and Wakanda). She suggests that T'Challa, Shuri, and Bucky stay in Wakanda; Tony, Peter Parker, and Bruce Banner go to Antarctica; Clint, Wanda Maximoff, and Her go to the Swiss Alps; Steve, Thor Odinson, and Sam Wilson go to the Himalayas.

Tony immediately refutes involving Peter Parker because he is just a kid, but Steve and Natasha both tell him to stop 'babying' him and let him be an Avenger. Bucky decides to alleviate the issue by suggesting letting Peter come to Wakanda since he could be a big help, and Tony relents, making sure to tell Bucky that if something happens to Peter, he would be responsible. After a bit of conversation with Steve, everyone begins to gear up, and Bucky is left alone with the soldier. He begins to think that despite the scars and unwashed hair and skin, the soldier was right that the woman she had seen, (Y/n) (L/n), was pretty. End scene.

TRANSLATIONS:

None

TAGLIST: @tilldeathripsusapart @vicmc624 @mgchaser @aash3 @samfunko @seventeen-x @valckenaux @babybeeelle @sc4rrc @cjand10

[inspectori]

Hello! Can I make a request for Satori Tendou?

Where Satori doesn't know how to handle his emotions when the reader is around. So she thinks that maybe she isn't to Satori's liking.

Sorry for the English, I use a translator.

- MIXED SIGNALS -

tendou x gn!reader

Satori Tendou wasn’t the type to get nervous. Not during matches, not when facing down a spiker twice his size, not even when he was being weird in public and people stared. He liked being unpredictable. He liked the way people couldn’t figure him out.

But you—you—were the only one who made his brain short-circuit.

And it was driving him crazy.

Every time you laughed at something he said, it felt like the sun was inside his chest, like he could float out of his skin and hover in the rafters. But when you looked at him too long, or smiled at him with that softness that made his throat go dry, something in him would retreat. Not out of disinterest—God, no—but because he didn’t know how to handle it.

So he covered it up with dumb jokes and awkward silences. Talked too much. Then not at all. And every time he saw your face fall just a little, he hated himself for it.

It wasn’t long before he noticed you pulling away.

You stopped showing up to his practice as often. When you were there, you kept your distance, always talking to someone else, eyes darting past him like he wasn’t worth lingering on.

It hurt in a way he didn’t know how to name.

At first, he thought maybe you were just busy. But then a week passed. Then two. And suddenly the gym felt colder without your warmth in it. His jokes or brainrot felt hollower. The team noticed too—Ushijima even asked if something was wrong, and Tendou just laughed, too loud, and said he must be coming down with a cold.

He knew he couldn’t keep pretending.

So one day, after practice, when the rest of the team had wandered off to change, he found you sitting alone on the bleachers, notebook in hand, legs swinging slightly. The fading sunlight lit your face in a way that made his heart thump painfully hard against his ribs.

He walked up, hands buried deep in his pockets, and stopped in front of you like a glitching program.

“You’re avoiding me,” he said.

Your head snapped up. “Huh?”

He gave a lopsided smile. “Dude you heard me.”

You looked down at your notebook, fingers tightening around the edge. “I just… I thought maybe I was bothering you.”

That stung. Tendou flinched, subtle but real. “Bothering me?”

You finally looked up at him, eyes vulnerable, confused. “You stopped talking to me. Stopped joking around. I thought maybe I’d done something wrong. Or maybe I wasn’t your type.”

His breath caught.

The words clanged around in his chest like a dropped bell. Not your type.

He sat beside you, but not too close—afraid he might ruin something just by existing wrong.

“You didn’t do anything,” he said, voice quieter than usual. “I just kinda… I suck at this.”

You tilted your head. “At what?”

“Feelings,” he muttered, then huffed. “You.”

You blinked. “You suck at me?”

He groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “That came out so fucking wrong.”

You couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up—small and startled. Tendou glanced at you, a crooked smile forming.

“I like you,” he said suddenly, like it physically hurt to keep the words in. “Like, a lot. But every time you’re near me, I get so… jumbled. It’s like my brain turns to mush or something. I don’t know how to act. So I end up being weird—well, weirder—and then I overthink everything and convince myself you hate me.”

Your expression softened.

“Satori,” you said gently, “I don’t hate you.”

“I know,” he whispered, eyes on the floor. “But I was scared you would if I wasn’t perfect.”

You reached over, resting your hand on his.

He went still.

“I don’t want perfect,” you said. “I just want you.”

Silence settled between you, heavy with unspoken relief.

“Even the parts that I act all dumb and shit around you?” he asked, voice rough around the edges.

“Especially those.”

He looked up, red blooming at the tips of his ears. And then, slowly, he grinned—a real one, toothy and bright and a little crooked.

“Okay,” he said. “But you should know—I’m going to be terrible at this.”

You leaned in, shoulder brushing his. “Chat we can be terrible together.”

“Ew don’t say that.”

“My bad twin.”

“DON’T SAY THAT EITHER.”

And for the first time in weeks, Satori Tendou felt like he could breathe.

(TOOK ME SO LONG TO WRITE THIS FOR NO REASON)

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 157 (Coping Without Ash)

It had been almost a week since Ash's escort to the Landgraabs in the city. They weren't even allowed to call him, and Heather moved through the house in a walking haze. She forced herself to eat for the sake of their unborn child and doted on Lavender despite her depression, but she withdrew from her usual nature.

Conrad and her family were deeply concerned, and her mother, Daisy, arrived in the Bay with Holly, Betta, and a few suitcases. Heather's close-knit family was determined to help her through this, and they planned to stay until after the baby was born.

Normally, Conrad might object to packing their home with so many people and pets with a newborn on the way, but he hated seeing Heather like this. He hoped her family could help, but he knew, deep down, the only thing she needed was Ash.

"I talked to Felix today," he said, as they shared a cheesecake made by Daisy to follow dinner. Heather looked up, listening without a word. "He said he's found some interesting things during discovery, and he's confident about our hearing in San Myshuno."

"Did he say what he meant?" asked Daisy, but Conrad shook his head as Daisy frowned. "I just can't get past the Landgraabs pulling this after everything!"

Though she'd tried to hold it together for Heather's sake, Daisy couldn't hold back a sob while they gathered around the table.

"Why you sad, Gramma? Ash isn't gone for always. He'll be back."

"Of course he will."

Conrad got up from the table to clear a few plates, trying to remain strong in the face of Heather's crumbling facade. But he was processing grief in his own way over the ordeal, switching between anger and stoicism in rapid swings. (Seriously he's been all over the place.)

Heather went to bed early after giving Gord a bath, so Daisy and Holly hung out with Lavender and Betta when Conrad was called to a crime scene. To say they were managing without Ash around was barely accurate, but they knew they couldn't give up yet.

In Britechester, Felix and Lilith were feeling the loss of Ash's genius expertise, too. Lilith had welded the time travelling component, but now she was trying to use Ash's notes to program it to her computer and calculate a landing point. She was struggling.

"When is the custody hearing? It'll be real nice when we can finally talk to Ash again about all this."

"Next week," said Felix, strumming a silly song on Lilith's guitar.

"Stop being a goofball for a minute and take this seriously," she begged, trying not to laugh at him anyway. "Emit thinks our tech's too primitive and doesn't know enough about it to help - if he could even find the time out from underneath my sister."

"You think they're falling for each other?"

"They keep saying they're just having fun, but I know my sister. Angela wants happily ever after and she likes Emit, but she's afraid to get attached."

Felix nodded. "That's fair, isn't it? He is a time traveler, and once we help him catch his time thief, he'll go back to the future."

Lilith frowned. She turned back to her computer just as the screen flashed and turned blue, spilling code across the monitor and shocking her fingertips through the keyboard. "Dammit, I just fried it and it tried to fry me!"

Felix put down the guitar and smiled. "It's okay, Lil. Ash has already invented time travel, we just have to prove it works. Take a break, your parents are making dinner. Then see if Emit knows anything about our "primitive" computers. I think Angela's busy working out, so you should find him unoccupied for the time being."

Lilith took his advice and headed for a soak in the tub. While she relaxed, Felix repaired the computer. He was still holding on to the engagement ring, still waiting for the perfect moment to propose. But they were too distracted lately by time travel and Ash's custody case.

Emit did prove helpful with the computer, teaching Lilith how to overclock it to process Ash's codes and calculations.

"I can't say for sure the code's right, but I know a ten-year-old coming up with half of this is amazing. I trust the parts even I don't understand because so few in this time could know any of this."

"So you think we're almost ready to travel through time?" Lilith's earlier frustrations had turned back to hope.

"We could leave as soon as you're done with the custody hearing. My wristboard is still tracking the time thief, but with with two working devices, we'll head them off anywhere in time they think they can hide."

With a buzz of excitement running through their veins, Lilith and Felix shared a smile and a searing kiss. "Can you believe it? As soon as Ash is back with his parents, we're going to jump through time!"

Felix had lived through more decades than he could count, but experiencing the future - or the past - with his beloved Lilith sounded like the adventure of a lifetime. ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: In the interest of full disclosure, I don't know if any mods out there connect a custody battle with grief moodlets and these moodlets for Conrad actually followed the death of Ben. Heather grieved Ben, too, but she was more muted and dazed, understandably, because she didn't know him as well. But grief moodlets can be persistent and Conrad was still going through it during this time, so I mean no disrespect to Ben (really!) but I usurped those moodlets for my plot, and their grief styles informed how I wrote this arc.

[kingkunigami]

— rough

Kunigami taking his aggression out on you after wildcard— honestly I want him to knock me around a bit😩

Warnings: 18+, choking, asphyxiation, rough sex, creampie, Kunigami ignores readers request not to cum inside her, semi-public sex, slut used once.

Pairings: Kunigami Rensuke x f!reader.

Word Count: 1.5k.

There’s something different about Kunigami when he makes it out of the wildcard program. A darkness that lingers inside him and threatens to consume him whole, stealing the light piece by piece until he’s a shell of the man you knew before.

He’s colder, rougher, more intent.

Ravenous.

As he stalks towards you after a game, focused eyes honing in on you like a hungry lion stalking its prey— ready to devour you whole. A man ready to take out all the anger and aggression that’s been building up inside him, dangling over him like a noose.

And sometimes you can’t even tell whether your kind, caring boyfriend still exists inside him. It’s as though he’s a completely different man.

It’s divergent from the soft, sensual sex you’re used to with Kunigami. Full of reassuring words and touches as he rolls his hips against yours gently, as though he’s afraid you might break. Like a delicate butterfly that he cups in his palms, cherishing you with every fibre of his being.

But this man? He’s brutal.

Hungrily using you for his own lust, calloused hands brusing as he pins you to the wall. Your panties just about survive his rough movements as he tugs them down your thighs roughly, letting the fabric settle around one of your ankles before he’s hoisting your thigh up against his hip.

He’s indecorous as he’s swiping his palm over your naked slit, fingers delving between your folds to see how wet you are for him— and it’s not nearly enough as he’s kind enough to spit in his palm to rub the moisture between your thighs. Nudging your clit with his rough movements, just enough to have your hips bucking with want.

It’s like he’s a different man completely as he’s tugging at his shorts, pulling them down just enough to free his aching cock as the weight of it hangs low and heavy. Wrapping himself in a fist as he strokes the tip through your messy slit, his pre mingles with cooling spit as he knocks your clit. Cold, half-lidded eyes stare down at you as he blindly searches for your entrance.

The hunger and desire that burns molten fire inside him makes it difficult for him to find it, the swollen tip catches against it as he thrusts forward and misses. Sliding his length through your sex as he snarls in irritation, tightening his grip as he pulls at your thigh. Lifting it higher as he almost suspends you from the ground, keeping your weight trapped between him and the cold brick wall as he tilts back to try and see your cunt. To guide himself inside you as he finally catches against your tight, unprepared hole. Canting his hips with one sharp thrust as he buries his cock inside you.

“Oh, fu—” The penetration steals the wind from your lungs as your lips part to gulp air in.

You’re not gifted a moment to adjust to the sensation before Kunigami is using your body greedily— selfishly. His eyes are focused and intent as he curls himself into you, towering over you as he traps you against him. Soft grunts spill from deep in his throat, the sound has your clit twitching as the slight pain begins to morph into sheer pleasure.

“Ren—” You manage to choke out between airy moans as you let him use you how he so pleases.

“Oh, shit,” He exhales through his nose, “Always so tight for me.”

Each thrust is bruising as he pounds his hips forward, heavy balls slap against your ass as you scramble for purchase. Your nails dig into his broad, muscular shoulders leaving angry red lines in their wake, which only seem to goad him on. The sharp pain that ebbs through his veins has his cock twitching inside you, pulsing as he nears his release.

Kunigami gives one of your breasts a rough squeeze, fingers moulding into the supple skin bruisingly as you cry out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. Your body betrays you as your cunt clenches pathetically from the abuse, begging him for more as your back arches towards his touch.

You reach up to curl your palm over the back of his hand, goading him to squeeze again as he does. Sucking in air through clenched teeth as he bites back a depraved grunt of pleasure.

“You like that, huh?” He murmurs, “Don’t even care that anyone could walk by and see you like this.”

And truth be told in the moment, you didn’t. You were certain his teams had caught glimpses of you in compromising positions before. Most of the time you’d have to coax your boyfriend into doing anything illicit, Kunigami often adamant that this sort of intimacy should be reserved for behind closed doors. But once in a while he’d let you tug down his shorts to relax him at half time, or bend you over before the game started for good luck— but this? This was downright depraved, and he could care less if anyone saw you like this right now. You were one thing that he had that no one else could have, a warped sense of power that consumed him.

“Fuck, such a slut.” He grunts as he brings his palm up higher to your neck, thick fingers wrap around your jugular as he squeezes. The pad of his thumb pushes into your jawline to direct your focus on him, staring into his auburn eyes as you feel the intensity of his gaze as he uses you selfishly. Seeking out his pleasure before your own as he works out every ounce of frustration on your poor, pliant body.

“Look at me,” He growls, “I said fucking look at me.”

Every word is annunciated by a precise, sharp rut of his hips as your eyes meet his auburn gaze. Your cunt pulses at the attention, intense diluted pupils have you writhing beneath him.

“S’too much,” You can barely make out between the hand tightening around your neck, cutting off your air supply as his thrusts become sloppier. Dropping more of his weight onto you as your walls tighten around his cock, your slick now leaks down his thick length as it creams around the base. Dribbling down onto his heavy balls as he anticipates his climax.

Expecting him to pull out at the last minute as always. Kunigami was always careful, always ready to stroke his length to finish himself off and shoot warm spurts of cum all over your tummy or ass.

“Pull out.” You whisper, his palm tightens around your neck as he nears his end.

But this time he was intent, determined.

“Rensuke.” Your voice is barely a whisper as the lack of oxygen goes straight to your head.

“Take it all,” Kunigami snarls as your cunt clenches pathetically at his tone, “Fucking take it.”

And a warmth consumes you as his balls drain inside your trembling hole, pumping globs of his thick release inside your obedient cunt. Continuing to give shallow ruts into you, burying his spend deeper inside your ruined walls.

“Fuck.” His grip loosens around your neck as he fills you to the brim.

You’re almost an afterthought as he pulls back, half-lidded eyes softening as though he’s just realised what he’s done. Feeling your desperate walls continue to pulse around him, desperately close to your own end as Kunigami takes pity on you.

“Shit, ‘m sorry, baby.” He grumbles.

Slipping a hand between your connected bodies as he presses the pad of his thumb against your puffy clit, rubbing swift precise circles against it as he leads you towards your own release. He knows your body better than you know it yourself as he has you teetering on the edge of your climax with minimal effort. The saccharine tartness to your moans has his softening cock twitching inside you as he feels you dancing on the tip of your release, goading you to tumble over the edge.

“Cum for me, princess.” He groans, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead as he watches you, “Always so pretty when you’re cummin’ for me.”

Feeling your chest tighten as the familiar sensation surges through you in harsh waves, your walls clamp down around his cock as you meet your own release. Kunigami’s grip on your thigh tightens to stop your legs from giving out and falling to the floor as he works you through your end. Cooing words of encouragement and praise as the intense pleasure continues coursing through you.

“Good girl.” He soothes, giving your clit a few more gentle circles until you’re trying to arch away from his touch.

Reluctantly pulling his spent cock from your messy hole as he tucks himself back inside his shorts. Bending down to help you back into your panties as he pulls them up your thighs, feeling the mixture of your release drooling into the crotch as the fabric sticks to your skin uncomfortably as he presses a lingering kiss to your lips.

“Let’s go home.” You plead, hoping that he’ll leave the building that has effectively stolen his spirit.

“Can’t,” He shakes his head, “I’ve gotta train.”

Kunigami can see the hurt flash through your eyes, but it doesn’t change his decision. You already know you’ve lost him to the Blue Lock program, and you can only hope to save his soul before it’s too late.

[autolenaphilia]

One thing I noticed talking about Linux and free software is that a lot of people seem afraid of learning things about technology. I constantly read things like "I hate windows, but switching to linux would mean learning a new OS, and you have to be some super-smart programmer-hacker to do that." Or even: "Switching to firefox would mean switching browsers and I don't know how"

And that is precisely the attitude tech companies like Microsoft and Apple try to instill in their users in order to control them. They create these simple and “friendly” user interfaces for their products, but these hide information. From their OS being pre-installed to their settings apps, they keep people from learning things about how their computer works, and letting the companies make the decisions for their users.

I think people are underestimating themselves and overestimating how hard it is to learn new things are. It is like Windows/Macos have taught them some kind of technological learned helplessness. Not knowing how computers work and being afraid to learn how is how companies like Microsoft controls you, and justifies that control.

For example, people hate the forced and automatic system updates on Windows. And Microsoft justifies it as necessary because some people don’t know that their computer needs security updates and therefore don’t update, so they have to force the updates on them. That’s definitely true, and Microsoft’s tech support people is definitely very aware of that but it is a operating system that presumes that the user is incompetent and therefore shouldn’t control their own computer. And of course Microsoft abuses that power to force privacy-invading features on their users. Windows updates are also badly designed in comparison, no Linux distro I’ve used required the update program to hijack the entire computer, preventing the user from doing other things, but Windows does.

This is the dark side of “user-friendly” design. By requiring zero knowledge and zero responsibility for the user, they also take control away from the user. User-friendly graphical user interfaces (GUI) can also hide the inner workings of a system in comparison to the command line, which enables more precise control of your computer and give you more knowledge about what it is doing.

Even GUIs are not all made equal in regards to this, as the comparison between the Windows Control panel and their newer Settings app demonstrates. As I complained about before, Windows have hidden away the powerful, but complex Control Panel in favor of the slicker-looking but simplified and less powerful Settings app for over a decade now.

Of course this is a sliding scale, and there is a sensible middle-ground between using the command line for everything and user-friendly design masking taking control away from the end user.

There are Linux distros like Linux Mint and MX Linux who have created their own GUI apps for tasks that would otherwise use the command line, without taking control away from the user. This is mainly because they are open source non-profit community-driven distros, instead of being proprietary OSes made by profit-driven megacorps.

Still, giving that control to the user presumes some knowledge and responsibility on part of the user. To return to the update example, by default both Mint and MX will search and notify you of available updates, but you will have to take the decision to download and install them. Automatic updates are available in both cases, but it’s opt-in, you have to enable that option yourself. And that approach presumes that you know that you should update your system to plug security holes, something not all people do. It gives you control because it presumes you have knowledge and can take responsibility for those decisions.

All this also applies to the underlying fact that practically all pre-built computers nowadays have an operating system pre-installed. Few people install an OS themselves nowadays, instead they use whatever came with the computer. It’s usually either Windows or MacOS for desktops/laptops, and Android/IOS for smartphones (which are also a type of computer).

Now all this is very convenient and user-friendly, since it means you don’t have to learn how to install your own operating system. The OEM takes care of that for you. But again, this is a convenience that takes choice away from you. If you don’t learn how to install your own OS, you are stuck with whatever that is on the computer you bought. It’s probably precisely this step that scares people away from Linux, few people have installed even Windows, and installing your own OS seems impossibly scary. But again, learning is the only way to take back control. If you learn how to install an OS off an USB stick, you now have choices in what OS to use. (Sidenote: the hard part IMO is not the actual install process, but fiddling with the BIOS so it will actually boot from the distro on the USB stick. This old comic strip illustrates this very well).

That’s how life is in general, not just computers. Having control over your life means making decisions based on your own judgment. And to make sensible, rational decisions, you have to learn things, acquire knowledge.

The only other alternative is letting others take those decisions for you. You don’t have to learn anything, but you have no control. And in the tech world, that means big corporations like Microsoft, Google and Apple will make those decisions, and they are motivated by their own profits, not your well-being.

Computers have only become more and more capable and more important in our lives, and that can enable wonderful things. But it also means more power to the tech companies, more power over our lives. And the only way to resist that is to learn about computers, to enable us to make our own decisions about how we use technology.

[pupyuj]

[cw: g!p, manipulation, dubcon-ish, dacryphilia, creampie, breeding.]

been meaning to work on this for a while but never had the time and i kinda lost the idea (which is why this is a bit… boring) 💔 but i’m glad to finally be setting her free!

yujin as the popular senior at your program who volunteers to tutor you to make a quick buck only to end up being a huge pervert who takes every opportunity to try to touch and fuck you?? 🤩 don’t get her wrong; at first she was super eager to try her hand at teaching and what better kind of student to tutor than you—bright, full of energy, and so so gullible? 🥺🥺 not long after a few sessions did yujin start seeing you differently… thinking about all the ways she could take off all of the cute outfits you wear whenever you came over to her dorm… and yujin wasn’t afraid to be bold either! sitting closer than she should, hand sometimes resting on your thigh and squeezing and caressing your soft skin… god, you must be another kind of oblivious bcs you should be able to see yujin’s huge fucking boner every time she’s close but nope! you’re always so blissfully unaware, and that’s what yujin loves 🤩

yujin wouldn’t even try to be discreet! knows that complimenting your sense of fashion gets you feeling all giddy so she makes sure to kiss your ass a lot! “wow, i really like that cardigan on you!” and she’s touching you everywhere?? her hands gliding across your back and chest and laughing at how easy it all was in her head… how easy you were 😳 all those compliments got you to put on a small fashion for yujin when it was her that came over to your dorm in which she had to keep her boner in check bcs her pervy ass couldn’t stop checking you out and making all sorts of scenarios in her head 😵‍💫 scenarios of how much she can ruin such a pretty girl in a matter of minutes 😳😳

it would go from small, brief touches to lingering ones… yujin always sneaking in a movie time as a form of a break from all the learning which you of course loved bcs yujin gave very interesting commentary during all of them and these movie times gave you a moment to relax! but then yujin would sneak an arm around your waist and her other hand would slowly go higher and higher up your skirt… and she loves how you stiffen up, looking at her all puzzled and shifting uncomfortably under her touch… it took you this long to find her weird!! and she would completely take advantage of your confusion!

laughs while she has you pinned down on the couch, absolutely loving how you struggled to hold back your moans when she kisses down your neck… “knew you wanted me.” yujin would mutter when you buck your hips against her thigh, needing her to take care of you :(( surprisingly takes all the time in the world??? leaving all sorts of marks on your neck and chest, taking off your top only to cover up more of your skin with her marks… “please, please, please…” you would be saying while whining and trying to get her to touch you down there more but yujin wouldn’t care! she’d entertain you though… humping her clothed dick against you just to rile you up, groaning when you grind against her more while kissing her feverishly 😵‍💫

"guess i need to teach you how to be patient, huh, baby?" she'd tease you in between licking and sucking on your nipples, her hand underneath your skirt and rubbing your sensitive clit through your panties... feeling how soaked you were just made her harder :(( yujin doesn't even know if she can hold herself back any longer,, especially with the way you're whining for her :(( she would slowly pull your panties off, teasing your entrance with her fingertips until she decides to just plunge it deep inside you :(( "there you go... use that pretty voice of yours for me..." and she's smirking while you grab onto her shirt, already feeling so good with her fingers alone..

so imagine how her dick would feel??? actually, you don't have to imagine! as soon as you're moaning "please, unnie", yujin wouldn't even care anymore! taking off her pants in record time and watching as you eyed her cock, practically drooling at the sight of it you’re such a slut :(( but despite how drenched you were, it wouldn’t be easy taking yujin’s cock 😔 she stretched you out good, maybe too good since she has you screaming her name while she slowly and steadily slid her dick inside your cunt… yujinnie holding onto you and moaning so loudly bcs of how tight you were… god, she was going to have so much fun with you 😵‍💫

“f-fuck… holy shit..! you’re so tight…!” she whines up against your ear as she thrusted slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you too much but makes sure to hit all your good spots so you could enjoy her… having to hold onto her shoulders as she increased her pace, her gripping your hips tightly, slamming you down against her as she thrusts into you harder… yujin watching you and grinning at how pretty, small, and powerless you looked under her :(( it feeds something sick in her brain, and now all she wants to do is turn you into a crying mess… and it starts with her fucking you even harder, now hitting the spots that hurt and making you hit her arms a bit, begging for her to slow down…

“u-u-unnie… hurts..!”

“deal with it.” 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

you'd be three orgasms in and yujin would still refuse to stop 😔 first of all, she hasn't cum yet and second, every you came, she wants to see more of it... more of your juices making a mess of the couch, more of you screaming her name as you came, and more of your precious tears streaming down your cheeks while she fucked you 😳 taunts and teases about ratting you out to one of your professors for sleeping with the tutor they assigned you with,, threatening to ruin your life if you were to tell anyone about all of this but you could barely hear her voice over your own 😓 so yujin would grab your jaw and make you look at her, cold eyes staring you down while you sobbed pathetically...

"such a fucking drama queen... you're cute." she's insane 💔��� yujinnie making you promise that you'll keep your mouth shut through your tears,, she’s got you completely under her control now 🫢 so you couldn’t even bring yourself to ask her to stop anymore even when it still hurt since you’ve gotten used to the feeling of her cock stretching your tight cunt… and when yujin comes inside you, she comes a lot it was honestly unbelievable how full you were after she was done 🤭 the sight of her cum oozing out of your pussy turned her on and got her hard again but she had to resist—she knew she already ruined you enough today! 🫣

but best believe that the next time yujin calls you over for your sessions… she’s expecting you to take everything she gives you without any struggle bcs the tutor in her demands it! 🤓 she’d have you all stretched out and filled everyday, always so proud of her smart and obedient student for being so good for her 🥰