#brown curl stim

[weheartstims]

Hello Again!

May I please request a stimboard for the POC Lesbian flag? Preferably with body/hair stims?

Thank you very much!

A stimboard of the POC lesbian flag with hair and body stims!

🤎|🧡|🤎 🧡|🤎|🧡 🤎|🧡|🤎

Banner credit: 🩷

[hellokittystims]

Tight curls 💙

Hair series part 1

not in order: x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x

[bratzforchris]

Five Love Languages, M. Sturniolo

Summary: The five love languages look a little different for Matt and his girlfriend, but that's always okay<3

Pairing: Matt x neurodivergent fem!reader

Warnings: Mentions of autistic burnout, this is entirely self indulgent

Word Count: 2.9k

A/N: I think we need more representation around here, especially for different neurotypes and disabilities <3 This fic is based off of this Instagram post :) I am autistic and have ADHD, and this was so much fun to write--if you'd like to see the same thing but for another boy, drop a request in my inbox!

Infodumping༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

“Matt, come here! Now!” You squealed from your shared bedroom, your joy infectious as you bounced up and down on the bed happily. 

You could hear the sound of your boyfriend running up the stairs, followed by him bursting through the door, slightly out of breath. “What’s up, honey?” he asked with a smile, noting your happy stims and luminous grin. 

“Taylor’s going on tour!” You giggled, shaking your hands in small fists as a way to release all the happy, all-consuming energy that came with engaging in a special interest. 

“Oh really?” Matt asked genuinely, sitting beside you on the bed. “Tell me more, hun!” he encouraged you, kissing your cheek gently so as not to get in the way of your movements. 

“It’s going to be a tour where she goes through every era,” You smiled, happily bouncing on the bed. “We have to go.”

“We will,” Matt rubbed your knee softly. “As many dates as you want.”

“Really?” Your eyes lit up at the thought of getting to experience your special interest with your favorite person. 

“Really, honey. What album are you most excited to hear?”

Matt looked at you kindly, his eyes shining with love. He absolutely loved watching how excited you got over your special interests. You had been a huge Taylor Swift fan for over ten years now, and the brunette wished that he could bottle up your happiness whenever you engaged with her music. He would almost equate your joy to that of sunshine, baby animals, and glitter. Where some people thought you were “just a fangirl” or “too obsessed”, Matt loved listening when you infodumped about Taylor Swift. The sheer dedication someone could have to a singular topic was beyond impressive and adorable to him. 

“That’s really hard, Matt,” You whined playfully, still happily stimming and flapping your hands. “I really like Lover a lot because it reminds me of you, but I also want to hear reputation because it’s just so iconic. Like the whole snake aesthetic after the Kim and Kayne thing was just perfect. But then I also love folklore because of the love triangle thing and also because it’s just so experimental. Did you know that there was only eleven months between Lover and folklore?” You asked your boyfriend, becoming more animated as you spoke. 

“I didn’t know that!” Matt responded, clearly very invested in the conversation. “Here hun, why don’t you play with this instead? I don’t want you to hurt your wrists, sweetie.” he explained softly, passing you a fidget toy that was laying on your nightstand.

You blushed as you took the toy from him, not even realizing just how bad your wrists were hurting. “You’re the best boyfriend ever, do you know that?” You asked him, slowly crawling across the bed and into his lap. 

“I think I had an idea or two.” Matt smirked. 

You began to play with the fidget toy with one hand and Matt’s hair with the other. You still felt the need to stim, your nervous system buzzing with happiness. Whenever you felt the need to fidget, you loved to mess with your boyfriend’s hair, and he always let you. The way his soft, brown curls slid through your fingers and the way his natural highlights hit the light gave you such good sensory feelings. 

“Thank you for listening to me…I know it’s a lot sometimes.” You whispered shyly, hiding your face against his hoodie. 

Matt rubbed circles on your back as you played with his hair. “I love listening to you talk Taylor, baby. I think it’s interesting.” he grinned. 

“You do?”

“I do,” he booped your nose. “I think it’s cute too.”

“Do you think she’s gonna go era by era?” You asked, still too excited to focus on much else besides your special interest. “I hope so. That would be so much fun.”

“You’re gonna have to teach me everything,” Matt giggled. “I can’t be one of those boyfriends who goes and looks miserable.”

You squealed, untangling your hands from his hair and planting a kiss on his lips. “Oh hun, you’re gonna be the most educated boy in the stadium. You’ll know more Taylor lore than Taylor

Parallel Play ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed happily, pulling your blanket closer around yourself and taking a sip of your coffee. Thankfully, Matt had a completely free day with nothing to film, which meant you could just enjoy each other’s company. These days were few and far between, but you treasured every one because of how unmasked and free they allowed you to be. 

You sat your mug down on the coffee table and picked up the yarn and crochet hook you had set out earlier. Matt sat at the other end of the couch, feet in your lap as he focused intently on his book. You felt your heart swell with love as you took a peek at the cover, and noted that it was a memoir about understanding and aiding your partner in their unmasking journey.

Matt was by far the best boyfriend you had ever had when it came to accepting and loving you, neurodivergence and all. Finding a man who didn’t fetishize or infantilize being an autistic woman was hard, but the brunette was a diamond in the rough. Like right now for example, when he was spending his Saturday morning that he had off learning about how to understand the way your brain worked.

You blushed and picked up your crocheting, beginning to work on the blanket you had started earlier in the week. You had picked a chenille yarn in pretty pastel colors, and the rainbow of yarn, as well as its soft feel made you smile. You began to crochet, taking a peek at Matt every so often. Occasionally, your boyfriend would look up at the same time and catch your eye, sending you a soft smile before going back to reading. 

The silence wasn’t awkward, nor was it uncomfortable. Matt had a way of making you feel loved and safe, even without speaking the words out loud. Having grown up with his own mental health struggles around anxiety, your boyfriend understood the importance of “being alone together” and just existing in each other's orbit, without the need for words. 

“Thank you.” You whispered shyly after about thirty minutes of silence. 

“For what?” Matt asked you, closing the book and setting it on the pillow next to him. 

You sat down your craft as well and moved to snuggle into his arms, angling yourself so that you could hear the beat of his heart. “For just letting me be me.”

The brunette buried his nose in your hair, speaking softly against his head. “I love you.”

“You just let me be and we can do our own things without feeling awkward or weird,” You explained. “It’s comforting…and it makes me fall more in love with you.” You giggled softly, a blush creeping up your neck.

Matt held you closer to his body, arms wrapped around you protectively. “You’re perfect, baby. All of you.”

As you snuggled further into his hold, the two of you fell into companionable silence again, enjoying each other’s company. It really was the little moments like these that made you realize just how lucky you were to be in such an accepting, caring relationship. 

Support Swapping ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Over the past year of dating Matt, you had fallen into a wonderful routine with your boyfriend, one that allowed you to distribute your spoons more easily and allowed him a slight break from his anxiety, especially socially. 

“Support Swapping” as you two called it was great help and was arguably one of the best parts of your relationship. Being autistic and having ADHD, you tended to struggle with executive functioning, always focusing on the wrong things instead of doing what you needed to maintain a healthy lifestyle. If you were hyperfixated on something, your mind could block out all reminders and signals from your body to eat, drink, rest, and use the bathroom. Once you finally realized how depleted you were, it would inevitably lead to an autistic meltdown because of the overwhelming sensory urges of hunger, exhaustion, and thirst. 

Matt, on the other hand, oftentimes struggled with parts of his job that came along with being a content creator. As much as he loved being in front of the camera and giving the fans funny content, he despised writing and sending emails. Nick could edit out anything that made him seem a little too weird or awkward; he couldn’t control how the recipient would take his email. You however, had loved writing ever since you were a little girl and actually took great pride in being able to communicate effectively through the written word. 

When you had voiced these concerns with each other and how they made both of you feel emotionally, it was clear there was only one option, and that was to support each other, just like you were on this particular day. It was nearing dinnertime by this point, the sun setting over the LA skyline as you tapped at the computer in Matt’s office. You had been hunched over the computer all day, filling out paperwork and emails for collabs that Matt had to do. You typed up all the notes for him, pasting them into a document, where he could then sign his name and send them off. Between your love of the written word and routine, writing the same thing over and over again was like a weird therapy for you. 

“Sweetheart?” You heard a soft knock at the door before Matt entered the room. 

“One sec.” You hummed, eyes still trained on the screen. “I’m almost done.”

“Babe,” Matt spun you around in the office chair so that you were facing him. “I love you and I adore you for doing this for me, but it’s almost seven. Time for dinner.” he chuckled, planting a kiss on your lips. 

“Oh,” You blushed, not realizing how much time had gone by. Just then, your stomach rumbled, making Matt give you a knowing look. “This is why we help each other and remind each other.” You snorted, facepalming yourself softly. 

Matt kissed your forehead gently, helping you out of the chair and guiding you towards the kitchen with a soft hand on the small of your back. Before you two left the office, though, he sneakily closed out your computer, making sure you would spend the rest of the evening resting. Your heart swelled when you walked into the kitchen and saw your and Matt’s small dining table completely laid with dinner and drinks. 

“You didn’t.” You smiled, turning towards your boyfriend. 

“I did,” Matt picked you up and kissed you as you wrapped your legs around his waist. “I know how distracted you can get when you’re working, sweetheart.”

You blushed as Matt sat you down at the table, knowing he was absolutely right. “You take care of me so well.” 

Matt rubbed your knuckles softly as he sat down in his own chair. “That’s what a partnership is for,” he smiled, the adorable crinkles around his eyes that you loved oh-so-much on full display. “We take care of each other.”

"Please Crush My Soul Back Into My Body" ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You sighed, growing restless as you shifted around in the backseat of the van. The triplets were filming their weekly Friday car video, and you had decided to join on this particular day. You absolutely loved playing Over/Under, but the effects of the evening were beginning to wear on you. Between Chris frequently changing topics to almost anything that wasn’t Over/Under and Nick’s yelling, you were starting to become overstimulated. 

You shifted, trying to pull your hoodie off since it was starting to irritate you, only to loudly smack your arm on the hard, plastic door of the car. All three boys looked your way, making your cheeks burn with embarrassment. 

“Are you okay?” Matt asked with a chuckle, but his eyes held a concerned look. 

“Mhm,” You nodded, trying not to let your frustration show. “Just a little too hot.”

“We should finish up. Nick’s second timer has already gone off.” Matt turned in his seat and stretched, trying to discreetly end the video. 

Matt knew you almost as well, if not better than you knew yourself, and he could tell that you weren’t super comfortable, despite your best efforts to hide it. Even he had to admit that Chris’s frequent change of topics and Nick’s yelling was getting to be a lot, so he couldn’t even imagine how you were feeling. Luckily, his brothers seemed to take the hint, and the boys swiftly ended the video, with you whispering a little ‘bye’ in the background. 

As your boyfriend began to try towards the triplets' LA home, you shoved your earbuds into your ears, closing your eyes and leaning your head against the window. You were overstimulated and exhausted, and the next person to add to sensory overload was going to catch it if you didn’t try to calm yourself. You were so caught up in the awful feelings taking over your body and your anxiety that you didn't even notice that Matt had pulled into the garage and Nick and Chris had vacated the car until your boyfriend turned in his seat, patting your knee. 

“You okay, baby?” he asked softly. 

“No…” You mumbled, trying not to choke on tears. “Too much.”

Matt understood what you meant and gently helped you out of the car and into the house without another word. On the way to your shared bedroom, he quietly shushed Nick and Chris, mumbling a little ‘overstimulated’. Both brothers were aware of you being autistic and immediately piped down, silently feeling terrible for you. 

Your boyfriend sat you down on the edge of the bed, handing you a fidget toy from off your nightstand. Despite the discomfort you were experiencing, you felt your heart swell as you watched Matt gently take off your socks and shoes, before standing up and looking at you. 

“Do you want your headphones?” he asked you in sign language. 

You could’ve cried right then and there because of your sheer love for Matt. Ever since you two had started dating and you had explained that you used ASL to communicate when you were feeling overstimulated, the brunette had taken it upon himself to learn as much of the language as possible. He was still rather beginner level, but it was the thought behind it that made you want to squeeze him and pepper his face with kisses. 

You nodded to his question, and Matt swiftly replaced your earbuds with better quality, noise canceling headphones. You sighed softly at the relief, standing up and wrapping your arms around your boyfriend's waist. “Thank you,” You signed against his chest. “I love you.”

Matt hugged you back gently, almost like he was scared you would break. “Pajamas?” he asked again. 

You nodded once more, and your boyfriend gently helped you into soft, sensory approved pajama pants and one of his faded, soft shirts. You quietly got curled up under your weighted blanket as Matt bustled around the room, getting himself ready for bed, but the pressure wasn’t enough. You needed something more. As your boyfriend crawled into bed, you rolled over onto your side, tapping his shoulder gently. 

“Will you lay on me?” You signed. 

Matt smiled, kissing your forehead gently. He grabbed the remote and turned on your comfort show on the television, before laying his head softly on your stomach. You smiled and sighed contently at the feeling, running your fingers through his soft, brown curls. That was one of your favorite stims, and the feeling of Matt’s pressure, combined with stimming and noise canceling headphones, was slowly calming you down. 

Over the hour that followed, Matt softly laid more and more of his body weight over top of you. He knew that deep pressure therapy helped you regulate your nervous system, especially when you were overstimulated. If some extra love and cuddles would help, he wasn’t going to be the one to complain. Sure enough, by the time he looked up at you, you were fast asleep, a happy little smile on your lips. 

Penguin Pebbling ༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

Matt looked over at you from his position on the couch as you giggled, happily kicking your feet. “What’s so funny?” “Check your Tiktok.” You laughed, a happy little smile taking up residence on your face as you stimmed. 

Your boyfriend smiled at whatever antics you had going on, migrating to his phone. You let out a little giggle as you watched Matt’s facial expressions change, from that of confusion, to that of happiness. 

“You really sent me one hundred and fifty different cat videos?” he asked, though his tone was playful. 

“They reminded me of you,” You whined, throwing a stuffed animal at him. “You’re the one who always sends people images of sleeping kittens and says ‘that’s me’.”

Matt chuckled as he sat watching every single video. He knew how important sharing was to you, especially when it had to do with the people you cared about. “Penguin pebbling” as it was called, was the act of unconventional gift giving as a sign of affection. Your boyfriend absolutely loved when you did this, because it was pure love. It wasn’t big, expensive gifts or luxury vacations. It was the smallest, most accessible thing in the world, yet you took time out of your day to do it. 

“Have I ever told you I love you?” the brunette asked, sliding onto the floor beside you and kissing your cheek. 

“Maybe once or twice.” You grinned. 

tags ♡: @jake-and-johnnies-slut @chrissfavwh3re @suyqa @mbsbaby @herxyz @lovingchrissposts @caffeinatedscorpio @bunny-cotton @crazychrisl0v3r @sturnioloxlver @whicked-hazlatwhore @blahbel668 @sturncakez @junnniee @biggesthat3r @sturniolowhore @mggcult @emmagirouard @athaliahxoxo @bitchydragonparadise @ilydeaky @soggyslugg169 @not-phone-guy @books0fever @stingerayyy2 @sunsetsturniolos @mimi-luvzyu @mayhem-72 @faygo-frog @oobleoob @aemrsy @billsslutt

note ♡: if you'd like to be added to my taglist, click here <3

[the-cat-and-the-birdie]

My Autistic Hobie Headcanon:

Hobie's Happy Place

Give him a weighted blanket and it's over.

Pressure is a really positive stim for Hobie. He loves weighted blankets. Put one on him and suddenly he's calm as hell. Stops talking and his breathing evens out. Kinda zones out as he gets comfy.

They keep one in the dressing rooms and tour buses so Hobie can center and ground himself. The performances can get intense and he gives it his all, so it's nice to go back to the tour bus and collapse in bed with his blanket.

Five minutes later and he's out like a light.

He likes to sleep with his head covered and curled up, or arms over his head. It's the only time he looks small.

On particularly stressful nights after patrol he may lose speech, coming home to his weighted blanket and walking around the boathouse in the dark (lights are too damn bright)

And he sits on the floor of his bedroom listening to music and zoning out, wrapped in his weighted blanket that's covered in patches. That's how he decompresses and calms down

If he can manage it, he'll make his favorite tea. Sitting outside to watch and listen to the waves, with his weighted blanket and mug in hand

Hobie Brown in his sensory happy place

[megalony]

No School

This is an Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by Anon- I've merged two requests together as I thought they fit well with this fic. I hope you all like it, feedback is always great.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@butlegendsneverdie@langdonzvoid@jennyggggrrr@rogmeddows@radiob-l-a-hblah@rogertaylorsbitontheside@chlobo6@rogertaylors-lipgloss@sj-thefanthefan@omgitsearly@luckytrashgooprebel@scarsout@deaky-with-a-c@killer-queen-ofrhye@bluutac@vousmemanqueez-blog@jonesyaddiction@milanosaurus@httpfandxms@saint-hardy@7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls@mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@noonenuts@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula

911 Masterlist

Summary: Chris starts to have a lot of stimming and when it gets worse, (Y/n) decides to keep him home from school. But it's not always easy with Chris and a newborn to look after.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A soft smile formed on (Y/n)'s lips and she quickly put her phone away when she noticed the school doors finally open and the kids started to flock out. Her eyes scanned through the sea of kids until they landed on the familiar flop of brown curls and the red rimmed glasses that stuck out in a crowd.

She opened her arms when Chris came speeding over to her and he almost took her down with his force that caught (Y/n) by surprise. Her arms coiled around him and she leaned down to kiss the top of his head, but he didn't let go for a moment or two.

"Did you miss me?" (Y/n) could feel her smile fading when Chris turned his head so his cheek was pressed into her stomach but his arms stayed bound around her waist so tightly (Y/n) felt like he was snapping her in two. She bit back a groan when he pressed his head a bit more into her stomach and she could feel him pushing down on the stitches that stretched out just below her belly button.

"Baby, everything alright?" She tangled her fingers in his curls and shook them gently, sighing in relief when he finally looked up at her.

"Yeah, home?"

"Let's go then," Apprehension flooded (Y/n)'s voice and she curled her right arm around Chris's shoulders. She kept him close to her side and reached her left arm out to push the pram that held Lottie sleeping peacefully. "Have you had a good day, what did you do?"

This wasn't like Chris. He always came out of class with a bubbling smile and he had to list off everything they had done and tell (Y/n) every aspect of the day. And then he would reel it all off again to Eddie when he came home from work. Chris was never silent when he came out of class and he was never uneasy like this.

"Read story in English, we going home?" Something was definitely wrong, he was desperate to get home. That only happened when he was nervous or upset about something and he wanted to go home so he could feel safe.

"We're going home baby," It seemed the best idea to stay quiet and have a silent walk home. He might be overstimulated and he was only going to keep asking for home if (Y/n) tried to divulge him in conversation. He needed to unwind and settle down.

She briefly let go of his shoulders to sling her bag over the pram handle but (Y/n) quickly held onto him again when he looked up at her and stopped walking. Waiting for her touch before he started to walk again. And (Y/n) didn't like what she saw when she looked down at her son, he was starting to stim.

His hands were occupied holding and moving his crutches and he was concentrating on walking which stopped his usual stims which happened mainly in his hands. But when she looked down at his face, he was having a lot of facial stims. His nose crinkled and his lips parted and pulled into a long frown before his jaw dropped like he was silently screaming. It used to upset (Y/n) when he stimmed like that as a child, it felt like he was angry with her or silently screaming at her but it was just his way of expressing his energy when the rest of his body was busy.

He kept clicking and moving his jaw and his neck shook a little from time to time, he was stimming a lot this afternoon.

(Y/n) patted his shoulder and squeezed him into her side, walking close beside him as they headed down the road.

It was routine that Eddie would drop Chris off at school in the truck on his way to work and then when (Y/n) picked him up, he would walk home. It tired him out and got him worked up ready for dinner and ready to unwind for bed. Eddie was doing a two-day shift at work and he had been there since yesterday afternoon so he couldn't drop Chris off this morning.

But Buck had gladly picked Chris up in his own truck and dropped him off to keep up his routine and spend some time with him. And they got donuts on the way as well which had made Chris very happy when he got to school.

"Stay close," (Y/n) squeezed his shoulder when they approached the main road and got ready to walk on the crossing.

She felt him nuzzle into her side and it made her smile as they stepped onto the crossing and started walking again. Another two blocks and they would be home and he might perk up and feel a lot better. Halfway over the crossing, some car started beeping. (Y/n) couldn't work out if someone was trying to bib their horn at them on the crossing or if it was friends driving past one another or one car having a go at another.

Whoever it was had made the wrong choice because the noise startled Chris out of his thoughts.

"No!" Chris let go of his crutches, letting them fall down to the floor as he pulled away from (Y/n) and slumped down to his knees in the middle of the road. He sank back on his heels which dug uncomfortably into his bum and he raised his hands up to cover his ears.

The facial tics got worse until his neck and head were violently shaking and he started to rock back and forth on his knees. He let out a small scream when (Y/n) moved, thinking she was about to walk away from him and he reached out and dug his nails into her hand to stop her from moving. He screamed again, louder this time until (Y/n) went down on her knees in front of him and he realised she wasn't moving away but was moving closer.

"Baby it's alright-" (Y/n) rolled her lips together when Chris scratched his nails on the back of her hand and pulled her palm to cover his ear. He went back to rocking and started to press his forehead against her arm every time he rocked forward towards her. His mouth opened and closed rapidly and his teeth clacked together when he clenched his jaw.

"Get off the road!"

(Y/n) snapped her head up, eyes overcome with anger that spread across her face as she tried to see which idiot shouted that at her.

As if she would just sit down in the middle of a busy road with her children if she didn't have to? What did they think she was doing, having some kind of silent protest with her son and a newborn in the pram? She wasn't down here by choice, Chris was frightened and he wouldn't walk if something startled him, he wanted to feel safe so he dropped down to his knees.

There was no way (Y/n) would apologise for this. Chris had nothing to be sorry about and neither did she, someone frightened him and he needed to feel safe. He wasn't doing anything wrong, even if he was disrupting the traffic it wasn't by choice.

"Do you need help?" A gentleman leaned out of his car window, worry lighting up his face as he looked over at them.

"It's okay, we'll move in a second."

"Not safe! Mummy, not safe!" Chris doubled over until his head was resting on (Y/n)'s thighs and he kept rocking forward, bashing his forehead into her legs.

"You're safe sweetheart I promise, mummy's here,"

With shaking hands, (Y/n) reached over Chris and started to dig through his bag as he continued to cover his ears despite the cars all stopping and no more horns blared out at them. She grabbed the dark blue noise-cancelling headphones out of his bag and gently tilted his head up towards her so he could see what she had in her hands. His eyes locked with hers for a few moments before he carefully lowered his hands and let (Y/n) put the headphones over his ears.

"Mummy's here, I've got you." (Y/n) moved his crutches until he got the hint and picked them up. She hooked her hands under his arms and slowly stood to her feet, pulling Chris with her despite the aching it caused in her lower stomach.

She wasn't supposed to be lifting anything heavier than Lottie, and Chris was certainly a lot heavier than his baby sister, but he needed (Y/n)'s help. Once he was on his feet and his head was burrowed into her side, (Y/n) wrapped her arm back around him and slowly walked across the road with Chris and the pram.

She nodded and raised a hand towards the man that had offered to help; he had at least been understanding and patient with her while she got Chris off the road.

"Let's get you home,"

At least it was only two more blocks until they reached home and no more busy main roads along the way.

When they reached home, (Y/n) moved Lottie into the kitchen and left her in her pram for the time being since she was napping. Her hand slipped down into Chris's once he dropped the crutches and she walked him into the living room. As soon as they were near the sofa, Chris didn't want to sit down which wasn't like him. He stayed stood up and started to sway back and forth, pulling (Y/n)'s hand along with him.

"Shall we have the tv on?" (Y/n) went to remove his headphones but he pulled out of her reach and blinked rapidly, he wanted them on.

She knelt down in front of him and wrapped an arm around his waist, pulling him into her chest. He brushed his nose against her neck and waited patiently while (Y/n) grabbed the remote and put The Land Before Time on the tv. He could still hear with the headphones on but they made all noises very subtle and quiet so he wouldn't get overwhelmed. And having a show on he loved and had seen before would calm him down, he didn't have to concentrate fully on the tv it could just be in the background for him.

"I'm going to go and start on dinner, are you okay?"

"Hm,"

(Y/n) didn't quite believe him but she kissed his temple and headed into the kitchen so he could settle and calm himself down.

Every now and then (Y/n) peeked back at the living room, just to make sure that he was alright and calming down but it was strange that he wasn't sitting down. He had been at school all day and had a tiring day but he was still up on his feet, moving about and burning energy. He usually sat and watched the tv or did some colouring but he was moving about.

When she heard a high-pitch scream, (Y/n) dropped the kitchen knife on the counter and ran to the doorway but stopped when she set her sights on her son.

He was only stimming.

(Y/n) narrowed her eyes but stayed in the doorway, watching Chris closely. He was stood in front of the sofa facing the tv. His right hand was waving frantically at his side like his wrist was broken, stimming very fast and violently. And his left hand was curled up into a fist so he could bite down on his thumb. His eyes were screwed shut, his head was tilted down and he was leaning forward so much he was almost head-butting the coffee table.

He stretched his left leg out behind him and kicked it out before he leaned back up, then started to sway back and forth, still shaking all over to stim. When he opened his eyes and looked at the tv, the exact moment one of the dinosaurs roared, Chris screamed loudly and stomped his foot down.

(Y/n) couldn't quite tell if he was stimming happily or if this was him getting anxious. His face was obscured by him biting his thumb, he seemed to be trying to smile but every time he screamed or made a squeal, his lips tensed and curved down and he rocked his head down.

Something had definitely unsettled him today.

***

"Are you going to eat something, baby?" (Y/n) leaned back in her chair and tilted Lottie a little higher up in her arm, keeping the bottle pressed to her lips but her eyes were focused on Chris.

He was sat at the table, rocking back and forth even though (Y/n) had turned off the radio because he wasn't eating. He had his usual breakfast, toasted waffles and a fruit pouch and glass of orange juice, just like he did every day during the week. The weekends were reserved for homemade pancakes. But he had taken one or two bites before he stopped and went back to stimming.

He didn't look happy.

"Can you tell me what's the matter?" She put down the empty bottle on the table and turned Lottie round so she was resting on her shoulder so she could wind her.

(Y/n) leaned forward and nudged her foot against Chris's leg, something that usually made him smile but today he wasn't having any of it.

"No school," He wouldn't keep eye contact with her as he spoke and he tilted his head down to look at the table as he pushed his plate away, clearly finished.

"Chris, can you tell me what's upsetting you baby? I can't help if you don't talk to me,"

"No school." His voice was more firmer this time and he leaned back in his seat before he bit his thumb and stretched out his other hand. He slammed his hand down on the table as he started to rock back and forth, bashing his shoulders back into the wooden chair. His hand continued to hit the table, not hard enough to hurt or become violent but enough to make a thumping noise that he clearly found sensory.

"Okay breakfast is over, leave the table please."

(Y/n) tried to keep Lottie perched high on her chest but she had to stoop forward a little to ease the pain in her stomach. Every time she stood up straight it felt like her stitches were taut and coming loose. Hunching over was the easiest way to walk even though she tried not to so she didn't look funny and could keep moving about the house and interacting with Chris.

She pulled Chris's chair away from the table and held it down so he couldn't tip it back in case he went a bit too far and had an accident. She didn't even get chance to tell him to go sit in the lounge before he stormed towards the front door.

"Chris-"

"No!"

He plonked himself down on the floor near the shoe box and grabbed his school shoes. For a second, (Y/n) thought he was going to put his shoes on and change his mind but he just started to bang his shoes on the floor and squeal unhappily.

"No school," (Y/n) muttered quietly to herself as she walked into the living room to settle Lottie down in her baby swing. The slow rocking movement settled the newborn instantly and saved (Y/n) walking up and down with her and lifting her up and down like she had done when Chris was a baby.

She could feel her stomach aching and tensing when she knelt down on the floor to settle Lottie in the grey fluffy swing. A quiet groan passed through (Y/n)'s lips and she grabbed the sofa, using it as leverage to get up again but her stomach was pulsing and aching.

Why did Eddie have to go back to work this week?

It wasn't as bad as when he was in the army, at least he was coming home to (Y/n) at the end of the day. She wasn't waking up in the middle of the night to have a conversation over Facetime with him, crying when the picture froze or started to go fuzzy and she couldn't see her husband. But that time she'd given birth naturally, not like with Lottie.

A C-section was easier in the moment but it was worse to recover from. (Y/n) could barely stand up straight, she couldn't bend down properly or lean over very far. They had Lottie sleeping in a little cot that joined onto the side of their bed so (Y/n) didn't have to lean far down to pick her up and settle her down in case it ruptured her stitches or tore her muscles. But she couldn't do any heavy lifting yet which was hard with Chris needing help. And when Eddie was at work, (Y/n) had to give herself injections to prevent blood clots in her legs and she felt sick every time she had to do it.

"No school!" Chris launched his shoe down the hall away from him and stomped his heels down on the floor while he banged his hands down. He only stopped when (Y/n) knelt down in front of him and held his hands up to her chest.

"If you're staying home with mummy, you'd best go put some pjs on and find a movie to watch because I feel like a sofa day."

"Stay home?"

"Yes, you can stay home baby so go take your uniform off,"

Chris took a deep breath, trying to process what she was telling him before he reached up for the wooden rail Eddie had drilled through the house so Chris could use them instead of his crutches. He pulled himself up and shuffled towards his room, the anxiety already melting away as he went to change.

(Y/n) grabbed the rail as well and hoisted herself up, bypassing the shoes she couldn't be bothered to put away yet.

She grabbed her phone from her pocket and clicked on the school's contact. If Chris was staying home today, (Y/n) wanted to know what they had done yesterday to upset him so much. He loved his routines and school was a routine, he saw his friends, got stimulated and was always busy. He loved being at school so for Chris to demand to stay home, it made (Y/n) certain something had gone wrong yesterday.

"Hi sweetheart, how are you and the kids?" Eddie grabbed a bagel from the packet and tossed it onto his plate before he moved towards the table where he had placed his morning coffee.

He felt more alive than he should have considering he had worked through from two in the afternoon until around midnight. He stole a few hours of sleep before getting a shower and livening back up for the morning shift he was doing today. Hopefully he would be home just before Chris came back from school if they had no dire emergencies to attend to today.

"Hi babe, uh, I just thought I'd let you know I'm keeping Chris home with me today."

"Oh, has he been sick?" Evan knew what Chris was like, he wouldn't usually tell them he was feeling sick, they would have to spot the signs and make the call to keep him home. Or he would actually be sick and then they would tell him he wasn't going to school, even though half the time he wanted to go to keep up routines.

"No, he's had a mini meltdown this morning and a lot of stimming yesterday. I rang the school, the sensory room was closed yesterday so he had to do English instead. And they told him Hydro wouldn't be on today either, as you can imagine he was not impressed."

Eddie took a bite of his bagel and slouched back in his seat, feeling sorry for his boy he wished he could be home with right now to cuddle.

When they moved Chris's schools, they had been impressed that his new school had a small sensory room that was perfect for Chris. It had a lot of different LED lights and lights on strings that he could play with. There were books, number blocks, a light up board that he could interact on. A small water-bed to sit on in the corner with cushions and teddies and a projector.

The room was over half the size of a normal bedroom making it more like a cupboard, but it was perfect for Chris because he could have one to one sensory time and he could be away from everyone else if he needed to unwind. It was his routine that every day for at least twenty minutes, he could spend some time in the sensory room.

And the school even had a small pool they used for hydrotherapy and they had groups of five kids that could go for swim lessons once a week.

These were part of Chris's routines now and when the school told (Y/n) Chris knew these routines were changing, it all clicked into place. This was why he had been unsettled when he came home and it was why he was adamant he wasn't going back today. If his routines would be swapped today he wasn't going, he couldn't handle change without advanced notice and alternate preparations being made.

"Fuck, is he alright now?"

"He's a lot calmer now, he's in pjs and he found us a movie to watch."

"I know what will cheer him up, pass him the phone a minute," Sitting forward in his chair, Eddie waved his free hand out at Buck and beckoned him over. "Buck, I got a special assignment for you. Talk to your nephew, he needs cheering up."

He handed the phone over to Buck whose brows narrowed in surprised intrigue but he grinned and took the phone and the moment he started to speak, Eddie knew Chris would be feeling better already.

***

"Ola baby," Eddie curved his fingers over (Y/n)'s hips and pulled her back into his chest so he could bury his face in her neck and attach his lips to her skin. He felt the shiver that rippled down her spine and he soaked it up, keeping her penned between his chest and the counter as she let go of the cup of tea she had been making.

Her hands moved to hold onto his arm while she leaned her head back on his shoulder and kissed the top of his head.

"Hi babe,"

"Hm, you look good in my stuff," He tugged at the shorts she was wearing which were very familiar to him. She was wearing his loungewear set; the black shorts and plain white top he normally wore for bed but Eddie had to admit they looked a lot better on his wife. The top was hanging off her left shoulder along with her bra strap that had slipped down and she had either pulled the shorts up high or they had shimmied themselves up because her thighs were on display.

"It's comfy," (Y/n) whispered as she closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. All of Eddie's clothes were baggy on (Y/n) and that was exactly the kind of clothing she needed right now.

She almost groaned when he dug his fingertips into her flesh at the same moment he bit down on her neck. She felt his hands move until his arms were wrapped around her middle and he pulled her back again so her bum was pushed back on his groin.

But when his arms gave a loving squeeze around her middle, (Y/n) held a deep breath and tried to stiffle a groan.

"Are you okay?" Eddie tensed his arms and stayed put against her but he moved his head so he could kiss his way up her neck. His lips attached to her jaw and he nipped at her skin when she didn't answer him. He felt the little jump she gave against him and he knew all her movements, he needed to make sure he hadn't hurt her by mistake.

"I'm fine," (Y/n) pressed a finger beneath his chin and pushed his head up so they were level enough to kiss his lips properly. She could feel the resolve in him fading away and when his hands moved back to her hips and spun her around to face him, she felt a bit better. She didn't want to worry him when there was no need.

Her eyes fell closed again and she could feel herself melting into his touch, especially when his hands went round to grab her bum and his teeth pulled at her lower lip. But her fingers dug into his shoulders and she gasped against his mouth when he pulled her against him.

"What's wrong?" Eddie's voice was soft, his breathless words whispered against her lips that he was barely touching, barely parting. His hazy eyes locked on hers and he could see she was about to lie to him.

"Nothing-"

"It's not nothing, baby tell me. Are you hurt?" He moved one hand up to grab her chin between his thumb and index finger and when she leaned forward to kiss him, Eddie raised his head higher so she missed his lips.

"I'm okay,"

"I'll be the judge of that,"

She didn't know what he meant until she felt his hand leave her chin while his other hand stayed cupping her bum. He trailed his fingertips down her chest like he was about to tease her but when he ghosted his hand over her abdomen, his head ticked to the side and his smile dropped when she flinched.

He knew something was wrong and he hated when she didn't tell him things like this. If she was in pain he had to know so he could be careful around her and so he could look after her.

(Y/n) tilted her head back and closed her eyes, bracing her hands on the counter behind her when she felt her husband grab the hem of her- his- shirt and pull it up to see the problem. She could feel his fingertips hooking into the edge of the large square plaster she had taped to her abdomen and he was careful when he peeled it back to see the problem. It didn't hurt when he removed the plaster but (Y/n) shivered when she felt his sharp breath and the way his fingers dug tighter into her skin.

"Mi amor… when were you going to tell me you've pulled your stitches?" His voice was dark and gritty like gravel and it sent sparks shooting all the way down to (Y/n)'s feet.

He knew what effect he had on her when he called her that and spoke to her in that tone of voice. And she knew what it did to him when she tried to hide things from him.

Her eyes shot open when she felt Eddie moving away from her but the spark of fear in her chest died down when she looked at him. He moved his right hand to cup her hip and he stood close enough to her that she could lean forward and kiss his shoulder, trying to ease her way back into his good books. It made him tut at her as he stretched up behind her to grab the medical box in the cupboard.

"Well?" He swatted his hand down on her hip when she didn't answer him and the jolt made her squeak against his shirt she was smothering her face in.

"I wasn't,"

"(Y/n)-"

"It's only two and it didn't even bleed that much… I had to keep bending down with Chris when he was getting upset and this morning I stood up and it just, tore a little. It hurt before I pulled them, it's annoying, baby."

(Y/n) had two children to look after, she couldn't go around being careful and doing very little when Chris was upset and needed comfort or like yesterday in the middle of the road. And she had to lean down when she was moving Lottie or helping Chris up and making the beds and getting dressed. Little tasks were hard at the moment and she was leaving a lot of stuff for Eddie to do when he came home because she didn't want to rip her stitches. It wasn't fair.

All she did was bend down to change Lottie and when she straightened up, her stomach cramped and a tiny bit of blood soaked onto her top. She tried to do the stitch back up and and covered it up and for the rest of the day (Y/n) took it easy and her and Chris watched movies all morning and afternoon with Lottie in her swing.

Deep down, (Y/n) knew she couldn't keep it a secret from Eddie for very long but she didn't want to bother or worry him.

"You've just had a baby, I'm afraid it's gonna hurt mi amor but I need you to be careful. If this happens again, you call me and anything you can't do, don't worry about it just leave it for me. I'll tie you to the bed if I have to," He swatted her hip again before he crouched down to be level with her abdomen.

He set the medic box down by his side and rummaged through for an antiseptic wipe. He was relieved it was only three stitches, not two like (Y/n) thought, but it was much better than what it could have been like if she really overworked herself.

He kissed her stomach after he cleaned the wound and felt her tense and hiss against him before he tried to do the stitches back up. This was something Eddie had done a lot as a medic in the army, he could stitch someone up in the dead of night with minimal lighting and far less equipment.

(Y/n) watched her husband fondly and reached her hand down to tangle her fingers in his hair but when she gave a small tug, he growled and looked up at her sharply.

"You're a tease, stop distracting me,"

"Sorry," She wasn't really and he could hear the humour in her voice.

When he was done, Eddie kissed the corner of her stitches and put another large plaster over, just in case it was tender or started to bleed again. He rolled down her shirt and stood back up, feeling her arms loop around his neck as she stared up at him with a soft smile. He curled his arms around her waist, looser this time with a small pocket of air between their stomachs so he didn't lean on her stitches.

"Thank you."

"Anything for you, mi amor." Just as his hands cupped her bum and his lips barely brushed against hers, Eddie felt another pair of arms curving around them.

He felt Chris's arm around the back of his thighs and his other arm wrapped around (Y/n). He burrowed himself into their sides and tilted his head up to look up at his parents with a cheesy grin that had them both grinning from ear to ear. He started to giggle when Eddie leaned down and scooped him up in his right arm and sat him on his hip while his other arm stayed curved around his wife.

They certainly had been having a pyjama day since Chris was in his new Dino pjs and his dark blue dressing gown that matched the one they had bought Eddie for Father's day last year.

"Ola, were you missing out?"

[pttwice]

little adhd!sana hc

first and foremost sana is a cuddle bug - if she could, she would be cuddling with the members 24/7

she usually regress anywhere from 3-7 but mostly 5-7

sana is very proud of herself because she can potty by herself

momo and jihyo are her main caregivers and she absolutely adores nayeon whenever momohyo aren’t around because nayeon will just sit and listen to her talk for hours

even if her mamas saw her five minutes ago, they have to say hello to her if they leave the room and come back in (bonus points for mohyo if they call her love bug)

her love language is physical touch! she thrives off of touching and holding hands

depriving herself of physical touch is also a way that she punishes herself :(

even if she hasn't done anything wrong, she won't let anyone touch her - holding hands is even off limits

it takes a lot of encouragement and love to let sana know that she hasn't done anything wrong for her to let someone touch her or for her to touch someone else

she starts really slowly by sitting very close to whoever she thinks is upset with her and then carefully easing into holding a finger and then eventually a hand

it doesn't matter if she can't fit on jihyo or momo's lap. if there's space, she will find some way to fit and curl herself into them

her favorite foods are tteokbokki, takis, and yogurt (raspberry yogurt is her favorite)

whenever she goes on walks with her mamas, she gets happy hands and stims if she sees a dog

she has a really hard time paying attention if she can't move so her mamas and the members try to hold her hands and move them or rock her so she can focus better

she talks a lot so it's a bit difficult to watch tv and movies with her - but, if she has a toy to play with or something to stim with, she'll be focused for at least half of a show or movie (breaks in between are a must so she can walk around or play a game to let some energy out)

she loves playing tag and it's one of the easiest ways to tire her out if they need to be in the car or on a plane for a long time

even though sana doesn't like playing video games, she loves watching mina play them - it keeps her entertained and she can talk to mina wihout mina actually having to listen

if she's upset at her mamas, she'll still ask for them to hold her but she refuses to give them kisses until they talk about what made her upset

getting what she wants is kind of sana's thing. all she has to do is look at momo with her honey brown eyes and she folds - momo would give sana the world if she could

if she’s in a very good mood, she’s extra giggly and will keep saying hi to the members. she really likes saying hi to nayeon. she goes “hi, nae nae” and then giggles after each time

she has a hard time with dance practice and momo usually has to take extra time to guide her through the steps, but momo doesn't mind since she gets to spend extra time with her love bug

sana is one of the happiest littles. she's always bouncing around and clinging to her members, but they absolutely adore her and love doting on her

i thought i posted this yesterday but it never made it through :(

[galaxyedging]

1 am ramblings. Frankie x GN!Autistic reader.

Warnings: none.

People think of Frankie’s Standard Oil cap as ever present. For the most part, it is. After the army, Frankie grew his hair long. It was his own little way of reclaiming himself and trying to reclaim what was lost.

Throw Frankie into the pilot seat of any vehicle, and he'll get where he needs to go. That he's sure of. When it comes to styling his hair, he is completely lost and directionless. His soft, wayward curls are stuffed under his cap. Until you come along.

Time is put aside each week to condition and detangle his curls. You rake your fingers through his tresses distributing product while massaging Frankie’s scalp. It's blissful and Frankie has to admit his hair looks good. His opinion is confirmed by all the admiring glances he gets. It takes about a week for the cap to reappear. He wears it everywhere yet still insists that you look after his hair. The process feels so intimate that you can't deny him. Even if you are confused by him covering up his beautiful curls.

One night, when Frankie asked can you do his hair, you have to refuse. The whirl of the bathroom fan, the harsh glow of the lights, the thought of the products between your fingers and the warm, damp air, it's all too much to think about after a long tiring day.

“Frankie, I…” in that moment it slips, the mask you wear that is just as much a part of your daily wardrobe as Frankie’s cap is part of his. Normally, just as Frankie’s cap is slipped off and hung up as he enters your home, your mask comes off too. Today it still stays in place after you having to keep it in place even more than usual.

As soon as it begins to slip, Frankie sees it, the bone deep exhaustion. The mask you wear is heavier on some days than others. Some days it seems light but the weight of it catches up. Frankie remains silent as he guides you to the sofa. Wordlessly, he lays you down. Lifting your feet, he tucks them up under you. Then he covers your curled up form with a blanket. The TV is put on low with your favourite show playing. Frankie sits in the chair to your left. He does nothing but provide comfort. After a nap, he makes you a simple, hearty meal. Then he waits.

“Apparently I don't look Autistic.” There it is. That's what had you clinging to your mask. It wasn't just there to hide the stims, or the expressions that might seem impolite, or the difficulty in making conversations seem effortless. It was there to hide the pain. The frustration. The disappointment. Having to lay yourself bare to be seen.

Frankie holds you close and tries to sympathise. He thinks of the times he's clean shaven, his curls cut off and his skin hasn't seen the sun for a while. He can pass for white so people make assumptions. They deny his heritage, a part of his identity. Frankie knows it all runs much deeper than that with you but he's trying. You can feel it, you always do.

“Thank you.” You smile against his chest that he has you pulled close to.

“For what?” He kisses the top of your head.

“For trying. For being here. For being my safe space.” You squeeze him just a little bit tighter.

“Always.” He soothes his hand up and down your back.

“Frankie? Why do you still wear your cap, even when we do your hair?” The thought just tumbles out with your guard down.

“I don't like the looks I get. People stare. I feel…” he purses his lips, searching for the right word. “...exposed. I guess. I'm not used to people looking at me like that. The softness in their gaze. I'd rather wear my cap and share my curls with you.”

“So I'm your safe space, too?” you tilt your head up to meet those deep brown eyes.

“You always have been.” His lips find yours in a soft kiss.

It's funny when you see yourself as broken. You don't realise that even when you don't feel like you can fix yourself, you can mend someone else.

[feerz]

He's got them beautiful big brown eyes constantly full of misery. He has daddy issues. He's just some guy having a horrible time. He spends an hour constantly stressed about his upcoming death and then dies. He's a communist. He is in a love triangle situation between the only two people who genuinely care about him and see him as a person. His friends leave him all alone after he has an ugly argument with his bf Judas, after which he proceeds to curl up on the floor, stimming, trying not to cry. He then proceeds to have a breakdown at his dad and cries for real this time. His bf betrays him with a kiss. He gets stripped, whipped and crucified, and looks very good covered in blood. He's god's innocent puppet. He is doomed by the narrative.

[hargrove-mayfields]

________

Steve traveled a few hours for this.

Robin and Dustin came with him, taking turns driving since neither of them really liked to, but there wasn’t much choice. They would’ve brought the boys’ mom, but going a few states away isn’t something Claudia can do with her job if she still wants to retire in a month.

She’d entrusted Steve and Dustin with her car and settled for car-pooling with Joyce to work until the boys and Robin got back.

He really appreciated that. This trip is a very big deal to him; a visit to literally the only place left in the country he can visit his decades long hyperfixation. The Rock-Afire Explosion, in all its horribly tacky 1980s glory. Settled today at an independent arcade restaurant.

There’s one closer to home, but it isn’t the right group. Some corporate sellout place that uses digital screens and shit. Another is closed off to the public unless he was going to pay way too much money to see his favorite characters barely functioning. So to West by god Virginia it is.

They made it, and have spent probably two hours straight at this literal wonderland. Robin and Dustin are mostly hanging out in the arcade portion, dishing out little golden tokens into skee-ball games and spinning wheels for tickets. Actual print tickets. Just when he thought this place couldn’t get better.

Steve though, he’s mostly been parked in front of the stage the entire time. A basket of chicken tenders later, even though the place is known for pizza- which Steve in his post ileostomy world can’t eat- he’s still not going anywhere.

Each and every time the show selector board lights up again, he’s wheeling his way over and choosing one from the draw. So far, he’s seen probably half of the whole show tape, happy stimming his way through each song and skit that he’d wanted so desperately to see in person ever since the last Showbiz Pizza closed in Indiana during his early childhood.

This time, when it comes back on to signal the cooldown is over, he’s beat to the draw.

A small boy of about 10 or 11 years old comes darting past in little light up sneakers, on tip-toes to reach where the buttons are mounted up on the wall. He’s got a mop of blonde curly hair on his head, where it’s longer in the back pulled into a tiny ponytail, with the band of some strap-on glasses tucked underneath.

Steve looks over his shoulder to see where the little guy came from, and sees a man who looks almost identical. But not just any. The one approaching him is someone he used to know, an old crush that got away.

Billy Hargrove in the flesh.

It’s been over thirty years. These days, Billy is inked from shoulder to wrist, even more tattoos peeking out from just under the v-neck t-shirt he’s wearing. His hair has lightened, probably from the California sun that darkened his freckles and added more to any uncovered spot of skin. Those pale, almost peachy colored curls don’t do much to hide the dark graying streaks.

Steve is the same way, a whole patch of greyish-brown blooming at the front of his hair, and crows feet by his undercast eyes. Aging hasn’t done him particularly well, not the way it has Billy. That is what he thinks at least, still never quite breaking out of his self-critical shell. His mom says he’s still charming at least.

Being love-sick all these years hasn’t helped though. He wonders what Billy will think of him now.

Billy who, with an absolutely adorable laugh, calls after his boy, “Mackenzie! You gotta wait your turn little dude!”

Steve rushes to insist, “Oh, no, he’s alright!” After all, he’s the grown ass man getting his entertainment from a group of cutesy animal robots.

If that little boy in his cute sneakers wants to have fun too, he’s not gonna be some gatekeeping elitist about it. Not when he sees the wristband on his little wrist that proudly declares his extra 21st chromosome. He recognizes the rainbow infinity on the beaded bracelet beneath that one too.

Steve gets it. Hyperfixations and special interests are pretty huge for him too. Mackenzie being so excited about the band he’s loved for so long is not something Steve would ever dream of squashing out.

Not even when the young boy takes to climbing up the side of Steve’s wheelchair.

Billy intervenes and picks him up right away though, “Hey, hey. We don’t touch that, Kenz. That’s his legs.”

Mackenzie’s slanted eyes get big, his little head whipping towards Steve to apologize, “Sowwy!”

But the little guy was so genuine and curious, there’s no way Steve could be mad about that, “It’s alright! Here, do you wanna push a button?”

Billy looks relieved that Steve didn’t start freaking out on his kid, motioning with a little nod of his head that it’s okay for Steve to take Mackenzie’s little hand and guide it towards one of the buttons.

Together, they choose a blue one. Steve’s already watched this specific show, but it’s one of his favorites since it involves all eight characters. For some reason, he hopes the kiddo really likes it too.

Nothing happens at first- the animatronics have to get air pressure back in them before they can start -so Steve takes the few seconds of delay to roll back to his table. It doesn’t really surprise him when the two friends he’s made join him. Father and son in swivelly red chairs at the table Steve parked beside.

When the lights come up on stage, Steve finds he doesn’t want to look right at the show and stare the way he usually does. Instead, he watches the wonder in Mackenzie’s deep and emotional eyes.

Kids like him don’t do much to hide their emotions, which is honestly a huge inspiration to Steve, who grew up masking and hiding his disability. Pretending isn’t fun, and even though he just met this little dude, watching him just be himself makes Steve happy too.

They’re both letting their hands flutter about by the time the first set is finished, the hiss of air signaling the animatronics are done until the next time.

Mackenzie whips around in his seat and all but shouts at his dad, “Baba, t’ey sang to me!!”

“I heard, buddy! Wasn’t that cool?” Billy enthuses back.

Little Mackenzie nods his head over and over, giggles replacing his words.

Surprisingly, to Steve at least, he then looks to Steve for his opinion too. There is so much trust and adoration in that look. He hasn’t seen that since Dustin was a kid way back when Steve had first been adopted.

Steve gives a thumbs up for some reason, “Yeah, it was awesome!”

He reassures the little boy, but Billy is looking more skeptical. Not judgemental or anything, just aware of the surprised tone in Steve’s voice.

Non-confrontationally, he informs Steve, “Just a heads up.. I might’ve told Kenzie we were friends. I saw you and I panicked.”

Yep. That explains it. The sheepish looks from Billy combined with the excitement from his son.

Steve is actually really flattered that someone he used to think was so cool would want to be his friend.

“Highschool bullshit aside, I always kinda wondered what it would be like being close with the Billy Hargrove.”

“Well I still have the same taste in music.” Billy announces, after a moment to think on important fun facts about himself.

It makes Steve chuckle softly, “This tacky pop is probably painful for you then.”

Billy shrugs it off, “Hey, I heard some Springsteen in there. And the Beatles always get a pass. I can get by on this.”

Suddenly Mackenzie gets impatient with them having their own little conversation, and tries to get Steve’s attention. He taps him gently first, then starts waving and curling his hands into shapes.

Steve recognizes the gestures Mackenzie is making as sign language, but he doesn’t understand a word of it. It’s one of those things he always wanted to learn, and wished he knew, but never sat down and dedicated to. His communication board was way easier for non verbal days.

His confusion must be clear, because before he can even say anything, Billy starts acting as translator, “He wants to know your favorite member of the band.”

“Oh that’s easy! I love Beach Bear. His surfer theme and his curly blonde hair are so cool!” The answer is easy for Steve. He doesn’t mention the part where the character has always reminded him of someone his heart long yearned for.

Mackenzie seems to explode with happiness anyways, butterfly hands going faster than Steve can even finish his sentence. He guesses that’s his favorite too.

The excitement takes over totally, just then Makenzie taking off running unexpectedly.

Billy is up out of his seat so quick, jogging past his little one and intercepting him before he can complete his mission. It’s obvious Mackenzie had wanted to jump onto the stage, instead having to crash into his fathers open arms.

Before the little guy can get upset, Billy turns it into a hug. He’s so gentle, his hold on his boy loose, not crushing like the prone restraints Steve grew up with.

This is teaching through love, not fear. Steve may have just learned something about love himself if the way his heart skips a beat is any indication. He tries not to tear up.

Billy cups his hand real soft on the back of Mackenzie’s curly head, advising him, “Please don’t run off like that, baby. You could get hurt.”

“Sowwy.” Mackenzie apologizes, almost automatically.

Once again, Billy takes action to make sure his son isn’t feeling confronted or yelled at, “It’s okay, bud. You’re doing a really good job today, buddy. Daddy’s proud.”

With that, he carries him back over to the show selector to press one of the buttons that has now since lit up again, choosing a show with help from Steve through a series of pointing and lighthearted laughter from the trio.

They end up picking yet another one that Steve already heard, but Mackenzie clearly hadn’t, so Steve feels okay leaning aside with Billy and chatting while the boy dances and enjoys the show in close range.

“You’re really good with him.” He compliments softly, not just impressed but super enthralled

Instantly Billy’s face lights up with a smile, “Thanks, Steve. It’s just been me and him, I’m trying to fix a lot of shit his mom put into his head.”

Steve is going to say something, but Billy gets bashful, and interrupts it, “Sorry. Trauma dump.”

“No, it’s fine. I definitely get it. My uh.. my mom was the same way, you know.” Steve admits, to make Billy feel less embarrassed about it.

“Here, here.” Billy bumps their shoulders together, a weirdly intimate interaction, one that most people would be too afraid to do lest they break poor paralyzed Steve (not going to happen).

“It’s hard. I love my kid. More than the fucking world. I flew hours to this place just to let him be happy. But goddamn it’s not easy to unravel the shit that was done to me. To him too.”

“Listen, that happy, sweet little boy that ran over to me isn’t afraid. He’s not hurt, or scared, or hiding from anything. You’re doing great.” Steve compliments, all genuine.

His dream of six little nuggets of his own might not be something he’s going to have these days, but he admires Billy for his family. Not just because of his crush either. There’s always been a side to Billy that was so emotional and tender, and he’s amazed at how easily Billy can use that for good.

A lot has changed, but not really. Steve just wonders what Billy thinks of the fact Steve hasn’t made strides in growing a family or becoming some successful mogul.

Apparently he isn’t appalled, because he’s blushing as pink as Steve has probably been all day, as he says, “Thanks, Steve.. I needed that.”

And then there’s nothing left to say. Steve opens his mouth once, then closes it again, too overwhelmed to think of anything. All he wants to do is blab about how he’s been in love with his old rival the whole time.

The pause in conversation isn’t silent, between Mitzi Mozzarella singing her little mechanical heart out, kids laughing about something fun or crying about not getting the prize they wanted, and various machines begging to be played. But it feels intimate anyways.

A moment for just Billy and Steve, in all their nearing middle-aged glory.

It’s Billy who starts things back up, after checking that Mackenzie is getting enough to drink for all the moving he’s doing, “So. D’you really think blonde surfer guys are cool?”

“Maybe.” Steve goes along with it, seeing the opportunity to flirt in the way Billy held onto that one small moment, and tugging hard on that red string of fate, “They definitely get bonus points for having cool tattoos and being good parents, I’d say.”

Billy’s face looks absolutely frazzled, eyes big and smile all crooked and wobbly. And then he laughs, a loud, hearty laugh that has butterflies going through Steve’s whole chest, “Looks like you finally beat me at my own game, H.”

So they have been flirting.

In celebration of not reading the situation wrong, Steve turns it up ten more, leaving a locationally relevant move for Billy on purpose, “Do I get a prize?”

Of course the prize isn’t a stuffed toy or a handful of bubblegum, but rather, a kiss. A sweet, shy kind of kiss that has them bumping their noses together by accident. It’s all they can really get away with, considering where they are, but it’s enough. A thousand words in one chaste press of their lips together. It’s how Steve knows right away this was meant to be all along.

For what could have been several more hours they sat and talked, just the two of them in their little corner of the restaurant, occasionally taking breaks to go play a game, or take Mackenzie to the bathroom. In that time, they go from practically strangers, to having agreed to live together.

See, Billy and MacKenzie actually bought one way tickets. The California cost of living was way too much for single dad finances, and they had plans to settle in a rental trailer park, after a tour of a few states around the area, doing cheap stuff to make it seem fun. Like they weren’t searching for a place to live.

No way was Steve going to let Billy and his disabled kid be homeless in their rental car. Absolutely not.

He sent Claudia a text, and she said instantly she’d be getting Dustin's old room in order to house Mackenzie, and Steve could share his room with Billy. The situation is one plenty of people have already criticized, saying Steve at forty something is too old to be living with his adoptive mother. Adding a alternative queer man and his kid with down’s syndrome to the mix was destined to be the talk of the town, just as it was when Dustin moved out into an apartment with Lucas and Erica.

The fact is, he doesn’t care.

Steve hasn’t done babysitting since he was paralyzed in his twenties, but he’s more than happy to watch Mackenzie while Billy works. As soon as he saw him he felt like family, and Billy agrees Steve and he are soulmates. To him, this is just completing part of him that anguished and mourned and longed for so long.

The three of them together with Steve’s mom and caregiver, sounds like a dream to him.

“Who wants funnel cake!?” Robin appears out of nowhere, two greasy paper baskets in hand. But she freezes, “Wait a second- Hargrove?”

Okay, so there is a lot to catch her up on. Steve is more than happy to tell the story of rediscovering Billy, his beautiful son, and their long-lost love for each other.

_______

[the-babygirl-polls]

Jesus Christ - Jesus Christ Superstar

Propaganda:

He's got them beautiful big brown eyes constantly full of misery. He has daddy issues. He's just some guy having a horrible time. He spends an hour constantly stressed about his upcoming death and then dies. His friends leave him all alone after he has an ugly argument with his bf Judas, after which he proceeds to curl up on the floor, stimming, trying not to cry. He then proceeds to have a breakdown at his dad and cries for real this time. His bf betrays him with a kiss. He gets stripped, whipped and crucified, and looks very good covered in blood. He's god's innocent puppet. He is doomed by the narrative.

Other Additions:

Im talking specifically about the 2012 uk arena production's version of JC

[scopostims]

leftover stims :•]

[ID: A 3x3 stimboard.

GIF 1: Someone twisting their hands around, they're wearing gloves that fade into a dark black with claws on the fingers.

GIF 2: Someone holding a small shirt out and a corgi steps into it, then sits down.

GIF 3: A camera with a large flash on it going off.

GIF 4: Someone squishing a small, realistic fake eyeball.

GIF 5 (center): Someone slowly knitting a brown rectangle with pink needles.

GIF 6: Someone tilting a metal, slightly spherical charm on a necklace back and forth, inside is a doll eye that opens and closes as they tilt it.

GIF 7: Someone putting a floppy disk in a briefcase then closing it.

GIF 8: Someone wearing long acrylic nails shaped like black spines moving their slightly-curled hand into frame.

GIF 9: A perfectly loop of machines winding wire into a coil, bending the end into a loop, then cutting it and letting it fall down.

End ID]

[nonobadcat]

A real world AU Gothic Romance - Final Chapter

Artwork by the amazing @obsidianne-art

Pairing: Ghost Shigaraki X Fem!Reader

Rating: Readers 18+ only

Content Warnings: PnV relations with a literal ghost, toys, mirror

Chapter Three Word Count: 3.9k, Ao3 Mirror

Part I ---❤--- Part 2

Sunday October 23rd, 2022

At six in the morning, you awoke to the screech of a train horn, and a full bladder. Wiping your half-matted hair out of your face, you creaked to your feet and wrapped yourself in the comforter. Dragging your warmth with you into the bathroom, you climbed onto the toilet with one eye open…

…and proceeded to pee fire.

By nine in the morning, two inquisitive text messages and one graphic description of chafed skin summoned your best friend to the landline like a fox to an injured bunny. 

“Well, of course you’re gonna give yourself a rug burn using something rough like that!” Serenity spat into the phone. “What were you thinking?!”

Um… how horny you were for some dead man’s dick?

Gripping the cold pack between your thighs, you winced. “Since when is thinking involved in that kind of thing?”

An annoyed snarl echoed from the other end. “Look, if you can’t use your fingers, you need to use a toy or something!”

You scrolled through the adult toy listings, eyeing up the options. Fake glass cock. Fake silicone cock. Fake plastic cock. Fake hot pink plastic cock with a little vibrating branch that looked like Vienna sausage. Hitachi wand. Egg thingy. Silver bullet? That sounded more like a solution to a werewolf infestation than something you wanted to put between your legs.

 “Give me a break Ren-Ren! There’s too many different options,” you protested,  scratching the back of your neck. “How am I supposed to know what to buy?”

You could practically hear your best friend’s headache as she loosed an indignant sigh. “All right. I got you. Do you want inside or outside stim?”

“Um…” you scrolled past a fake tentacle with weighted Kegel eggs. “Both?”

“Then order a rabbit.”

“What’s a rabbit?”

“Heaven have mercy,” she muttered. “Sit yourself down because this is going to be a long talk.”

Monday, October 31st, 2022 4:013 pm

Eight days after your sexual re-education lecture, a text message notification dinged your phone as you passed through the center of Smalltown, USA. Pulling into the old brownstone library, you parked your car and took advantage of the only five bar signal in Podunk County outside of the Walmart plaza. Not even the smell of garlic and deep fried something pouring out the vent from Wang’s Chinese Buffet could distract you from your excitement. The message was from USPS.

Your package has been delivered.

Oh good, Mrs. Murray’s pack of angry, push-face Pekingese hadn’t eaten the mail lady. You weren’t so sure when you saw her tearing down the sidewalk last week, being chased by bubble-fluff Cujos who probably asphyxiated for their efforts.

As you looked up from your phone’s screen, blustering winds painted the smooth cement walkway to the library doors with curled, brown leaves. A plastic sign reading “Trunk-or-Treat - 5pm - Halloween” flapped in the wind. You eyed the library's posted hours before cutting the engine. Perfect. For once, you were done with house calls early enough to go inside. Snagging your purse, you schlepped up the walkway to the glass doors and pushed your way in.

Paper cut-out ghosts and fresh pumpkins from “Miller’s Prize Winning Patch” coated the warm lobby with seasonal excitement. Tiny rubber bats flapped from the door frame, leading visitors up a trail of plastic “Big Foot” tracks to the circulation desk. Pinned into a vintage, slate colored silk dress with billowing mutton sleeves, the head librarian paused her frenzied typing just long enough to adjust her golden Prince-Nez spectacles. She tugged at the frilly trim of her high collar, fussing with the long lace. The upturned brim of her wide, feathered hat reminded you of a bowl. It didn’t budge as she lifted her head to face you. Considering the number of long, pearl tipped pins she’d inserted through the felt, it probably would have shrugged off an EF5 tornado by having a glass of sherry.

"Good afternoon, Mrs. Curtwright." You folded your hands neatly on the desk. "I'm sorry it took me so long to make it in. Work has been savage."

The librarian smiled and turned to the squat metal, bookcase marked “holds”. She pulled down a heavy grey text labeled “Miller’s Antiques Encyclopedia”. “It’s just so good to see that old house cared for by someone who really appreciates its history,” she replied, passing you the massive reference book. 

“Speaking of which, do you know what happened to the Shimura’s son after the fire?”

She hummed, tapping her chin. “Not off hand.”

You sighed. “Oh well.”

“Did you find another picture in the old furniture?”

“Uh…” Your cheeks burned as images of the naughty dream drifted across your mind. “Something like that. There was a young man in his twenties with wavy white hair. He looked a little different but I could swear it was the same person.”

“If you know the date, we can check some of the old town records.”

“There wasn’t a date on this one.”

She tugged at her sleeve. “Do you remember what his clothing looked like?”

You crossed your arms. “A red velvet jacket with these fasteners that looked like a marching band uniform.” Closing your eyes, you tried to picture the outfit you were wearing. “There was a woman in something that looked like your dress. It was really tight fitted with these slightly poofy sleeves—”

“Poofy at the shoulder or the wrist?”

“The wrist? Sort of anyway. The end of the coat was wide like a funnel.” You scrunched your face. “It was short and the shoulders were smooth, like a normal suit coat.”

“Bell sleeved jacket with Bishop sleeve shirtwaist. Probably Edwardian then. Did the dress have an S-shape that made the chest and butt stick out?”

You nodded.

“Pouter pigeon. Classic Gibson Girl look,” she murmured, leaning into the conversation. “Must have been the early years. Was there a hat?”

“Yes. It was kind of puffy and made of felt.”

“Did it have a brim?”

You pinched the air. “Maybe a small one?”

“A beaver felt Toque. I’d guess 1901 to 1904. By 1905 they were back to the Leg-of-Mutton style shirts.” She jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Let’s go check the old town records.”

Leading you across the open floor, she motioned to some leather bound volumes on the far wall behind the “Historical” desk. Labeled by decades, each volume was four inches thick. She tugged down the 1880-1910 binder and gingerly flipped through the yellowed pages. You leaned on the beige, laminate countertop, peeking over her shoulder. All at once, a single certificate caught your eye.

“There! Shigaraki! That was the name I saw.” You pointed to the small slip of paper. “What is that?”

“Huh…” She turned the book so you could read it. “Adoption paperwork. It looks like little Shimura was adopted by someone named… well… the first name is smeared but the last name is clearly Shigaraki.” Mrs. Curtwright wrinkled her long, roman nose. “I wonder if he was related to the old Dr. Garaki that used to practice in town.”

You cocked your head. “Why are you making that face?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper and cupped her cheek. “He was a notorious grave robber. They tried to run him out of town but he had some rich friend from New York that prevented it. Supposedly, the buddy had underworld connections.” 

“Oh…”

The librarian winked at you. “I’m not sure how much I believe that. Why would a crime syndicate come all the way to this little town?”

As you thought back to the scars on your dream lover’s face and how powerful his grip had been, the idea of him being more dangerous than you first realized didn’t seem that out of place.

Mrs. Curtwright flipped the page. “Oh, it looks like they changed his whole name after the adoption. No wonder Tenko Shimura disappeared from the records at the end of the Victorian era.”

Printed on the fragile paper in ink the color of night was the name you’d been searching for: Tomura Shigaraki.

After a quick stop off for $7.99 per pound Chinese buffet take-out, you rolled down the solitary drive to your Second Empire home. Pointed wrought iron trim along the edge of the tall, Mansard roofline looked like rusty knives against the thick, overcast sky. A cold, late autumn breeze slapped your cheeks. Pulling the hood of your Carhartts up, you crunched up the gravel drive to the front door. You snatched the “discreet” cardboard package off the front porch and fumbled for your keys. The old oak rattled in the breeze, its leafless twigs snapping against each other like dried chicken bones being crushed under foot. With a shudder, you headed inside and locked the door behind you.

Wang’s fried food and wonton soup proved every bit as delicious as the smell promised. However, sitting alone at a table built for many left a cold disappointment balled in your chest. You picked at the scrumptious meal, surveying the empty walls and vacant shelves. Maybe some photos would help? Did you have any printed pictures aside from the Shimura kids? Pressing your forehead against the smooth wood, you groaned. 

“I need to get out more.”

After dinner, you settled in the front parlor to await any visitors. Nursing a cup of warm apple cider, you sat in the bay window, clutching a wide plastic bowl full of Kit Kats, Reese’s Pieces, Snickers, Fun Dip and SweeTarts. Dusk descended on the world outside. Trick-or-Treat hours came or went, but no costume coated child made the long trek up the barren gravel drive. 

“Guess this isn’t suburbia,” you muttered, eating your tenth candy of the night. “The kids probably go to Trunk-or-Treat because the houses are too far apart.”

Disappointed and lonely, you flipped off the porch light and retreated upstairs with your package. 

Flopping onto the bed sheets, you rattled the white and red box. The flesh colored, rubber-free cock flopped in its clear plastic packaging. Heat filled your cheeks as you tugged open the safety seal. As you flexed the internal rod, the moveable skin wrinkled in your fingers. You snorted with laughter, positioning it into a raunchy curve. Taking your new toy into the bathroom, you cleaned it gently with unscented soap before sticking it to the side of the porcelain basin. Giggling to yourself at your suddenly well endowed sink, you flipped on the shower and started in on your nightly routine.

Twenty minutes later, with the bedroom door locked, you peeled the plastic organ off the side of your sink and wet the base. Bathed in the flickering light of a single wick oud and musk scented candle, you snatched up your bottle of “personal jelly” from the nightstand. Then, you headed for the bare, wooden floor just beside the heavy, mahogany bed. Tossing the comforter pillows down, you fluffed them into a makeshift nest. The fake cock came down on the wooden bedframe with a lewd smack. It wiggled for a moment before standing tall directly in front of the antique oval mirror. Heat glowed in your cheeks as you adjusted the bendable shape into a less intense curl.

On the other side of the room, Tomura leaned against the other side of the ornate frame, strong fingers crawling at the glass. Blazing red eyes watched tentative hands smearing the textured organ with gelatinous lube. Then slippery digits found their way between your legs. Closing your eyes, you leaned back against the pillows. Tomura licked his rough lips as soft thighs spread for his viewing pleasure.

Smooth but firm, you teased apart your folds, working your way towards your sensitive nub. The pad of your finger lifted hooded flesh, tickling the nerves with deep, slow swipes. Musky moisture pooled in your core as a low moan slipped from your swollen lips.

One finger dipped inside, tracing over stippled flesh as it followed the curve of your body. Your wrist ached, pressing your palm tight over your clit as needy hips rolled of their own accord. Your eyes squeezed shut. Tossing your head back against the side of the old bed, you pinched one pert nipple between your fingers.

“Tomura…”

At the sound of his name, Shigaraki’s hard teeth bit his thin lips to blood.

Groaning as your hand pulled away, you climbed to shaky legs before kneeling in the nest of bedding. Lowering yourself to your forearms, you shuffled back and reached behind your hips. False flesh slid between your thighs as one hand pressed it hard to your core. The dildo’s artificial skin puckered. Thighs clenched tight, you rode its length, letting all the world fade into the feel of its sultry friction between your legs. Your body quivered as gaze drifted into a glazed stare.

Tomura groaned, savoring the erotic sight. Positioned directly in front of his mirror, you glided across the toy. The teasing sway of your tits combined with occasional peaks at pebbled nipples was exquisite torture. A bead of thick pre-cum rolled down his fingers. His eyes never left your blissed out face.

Spreading your hips and squeezing your lips, you pressed the rounded head in between your folds. Tickling yourself with the tip left your body shaking with need. You sunk back, letting your new purchase worm its way past your entrance. Quivering hands fisted the blanket. When it dipped inside, your eyes went wide.

“T-Tomura!” you stuttered. 

The toy’s delicious curve was well worth the trouble. It fit like a hand in a glove, following your body’s arch to that tender spot along the front of your pussy. Drool pooled at the corner of your lips as you leaned into the sensation, letting the veiny craftsmanship set your nerves ablaze. Slick fingers gilded across your clit as you rocked yourself back and forth between twin pleasures. 

Shigaraki’s eyes bulged, following every nudge of your hip as you rode his pathetic replacement. Irritation bristled across his skin. He clenched his jaw, watching the toy with burning envy as it slipped in and out of your body. A steady stream of breathy curses poured from his mouth as he waited for the right words to come from yours.

“Tomura… ohmigosh Tomura!” you moaned. “Need your cock.”

Not yet. Not until you said it.

“Please! Please! Tomura! Ngnnn—w-want you so bad.”

So close! Too close!

As you bottomed out against the base, you let your tongue hang like a dog in heat. Saliva pooled at the tip before dripping onto the blanket below. Tomura’s nails raked the glass. The candle light flickered. You looked dead in the mirror and fixed him with a lust drunk smile. 

“Take me, Tomura Shigaraki.”

All at once, a hard hand pinched your jaw. You glanced up, only to see a feral snarl. Massive, tombstone wide teeth flashed in the thin light. Pale waves of ghost white hair framed his heart shaped face. Blood dripped from his broken lip as he sneered down at your intoxicated smile.

“T-thought you’d never come…” you mumbled.

Red eyes glowed in the din. “Thought you’d never ask,” he snarked back.

In one smooth motion, Tomura dragged you to your wobbly feet. You stumbled into his chest. Wrapping his arm around your shoulders, he kicked the comforter aside. The mattress squeaked. One massive hand pressed your cheek first into the springs as the other hoisted your hips against his. “You know you really ticked me off, putting on a show like that.” 

“S-sorry,” you muttered, scooting back against him. “Didn’t know what else to do…”

He rolled his eyes, slotting himself between your thighs. You gasped as cool, firm flesh clipped your raw clit. His hoarse voice growled in your ear. “No more games and no more toys. From here on in, the only one you wag your tail for”—a thick, cold weight pressed against your hot entrance—“is me.”

You nodded.

He chuckled, patting your cheek. “Good girl.”

Tomura canted his pelvis to meet you. One stroke at a time, he worked his way inside, spreading goosebumps along your skin. Icy fingers spread your lower lips, soothing your friction sore nub. Warm breath steamed from your every pant as your ghostly lover molded your pliant body to his cock. When he finally seated himself deep inside, an experimental roll of his hips left you writhing in the sheets.

“Oh no, no, no .” He taunted. “You’re not getting off that easy.”

Grasping the meat of your thighs, Tomura set a steady, bouncing pace. Every thrust pressed you deeper into slippery sheets. Your clit tingled. Crawling pleasure prickled up your nerves. His girth filled you to the brim, baring you to him in ways that set your skin ablaze. Soon, the rhythmic creak of the mattress was drowned out by mewling cries of unbridled ecstasy. 

“Like that, do you?” he demanded, pressing into your farthest walls. 

“Mmmm To-Tomura,” you moaned, arching your back. Another grind of his thick cock left you slurring your words “A-ah! L-love it!”

He leaned his weight forward, licking the shell of your ear. “Slut,” he rasped. 

“D-on’t mind”— You buried your warm face in the bedding and grinned—“being your slut.”

With a curse, Tomura ripped himself out of your body. You flopped to the mattress with a confused whine before turning to face him. Before you could speak, he grabbed your shoulder and flipped you on your back. Cracked lips smashed against yours in a frenzied kiss. Cold hands dragged you over the side of the bed, as he hoisted your legs over his hips. When he broke the kiss, a skeleton wide grin split his face from ear to ear.

“Oh?” A creepy chuckle shook his chest. “Is that so?”

With a snap of his hips, Tomura buried himself deep in your cunt.

You yelped, clawing at his shoulders. Long hair tickled your cheek as he pressed his nose into your neck. Hard teeth nipped at the delicate skin. He reached between you, boney fingers toying with your clit. With a gasp, you writhed on his cock. His free hand cupped the back of your head, tilting your face.

“Take a look at how naughty you are,” he whispered.

When you saw yourself in the mirror, your breath caught in your chest. Though you could see him plain as day, there was no one reflected in the glass. Instead, your body hovered in midair, back curved and nipples tight. Between your thighs, glistening in the candlelight, your naked core clenched around nothing. Heat flooded your brain, torching all rational thought. You gulped.

Tomura turned your gaze back to him. Half-lidded eyes paired with his smug grin sent a shock of lust though your insides. He chuckled at your expression before rolling his hips again. When you gasped, he smothered it with another hungry kiss.

“Mine,” he growled.

Locking your hands beside your head, Tomura trailed his scratchy lips down the column of your neck. You whimpered, turning your cheek into the sheets. Squirming legs clamped to his sides. An eerie chuckle rumbled from his chest and he buried his nose in your hair. The wet smacks from each firm thrust filled the air like a lewd base beat. When he settled upon one particular motion, you choked on your own voice. 

“Oh?” He sneered. “Here?”

Tomura leaned into you, rolling his head across your walls. 

“T-Tomura!” you whined, arching your back.

A shiver wracked his body. “Again,” he commanded, pressing into the spot that left your vision swirling grey. 

Your toes curled. “Tomur-ah!” 

He sped the pace, pounding you against the sheets. The springs squeaked their protests but you couldn’t hear them over the sound of his feral panting. “Again!” he hissed.

Closing your eyes, you wrapped your legs around his back. “Tomura…” you moaned, pulling him tight against you.

Shigaraki swore again, wrapping his arms under your shoulders. Burying his face in your neck, his movements stuttered. Tingling waves of pleasure rippled down your thighs. You tensed, clamping your body down until the electric vibrations rattled your brain. He surged forward, pounding relentlessly into you. 

“Gonna take my cum aren’t you? Take it like the good little slut you are."

As coarse white hair clipped across your swollen clit, your world swam behind blurry tears. Half formed thoughts slurred from puffy lips.“Want it. Want your cum so bad!”

Tinged with the taste of copper, his feverish kiss threatened to suffocate you. You tongue met his in an intoxicating dance. Saliva dribbled down your chin as your body coiled tighter and tighter. Just when you were about to snap, he whispered one final order:

“Say my name.”

“TOMURA!” you yelped as your world exploded into white hot bliss. 

With a strangled grunt, Tomura emptied himself inside you. Out of breath and shaking, he collapsed on top of you, grinding his hips against you over sensitive skin. As his seed leaked around the sides of him, you pressed your forehead against his. Clammy skin met flushed flesh as you tried to still the spinning room around you.

Climbing to his elbows, Tomura swept the stray hairs away from your sweaty brow. A cruel cackle filled the room. Scarlet eyes gleamed with villainous mirth as he lifted your chin. 

“Boo," he whispered.

 ❤ ~Fin~ ❤ 

Need more dark, gothic romance with hot villains? Check out my original reader insert novel:

Maid For Your Master by Afipia Felis

Available world wide in paperback and ebook.

CW available here

Reviews from readers like you:

"...The fantasy world is lush and the descriptions feel very historically real... This is a story written [with] the kind of dark heroes who feel real, and who don't immediately reform when the heroine batts her eyes at them..." - (Amazon)

"...It also has a lovely dark plot that really gives off the best historical tropes in a really well thought out world :)..." - (Amazon Kindle)

"Delightfully Devious! One thing I also particularly enjoyed about this book was the POV. Its very seldom that you find well written novels written this way. This was a very thrilling book and I can't wait to read more!" - (Goodreads.com)

Read the first three chapters for free on Amazon and Google Play.

Artwork:

Character design by Obsidianne-art

Chapter seven Excerpt By NoNoBadCat

Taglist:

@THE-LADY-WRITES-WHAT @wonwoosbestbuddy @OCEON6  @dabisqueen @shig-a-shig-ah-ah @feral-creep @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-loveuet-love @smilinghowever @imaginedheroine @CLOUDS-NO1-FAN @MOONTHECREATOR @HARLEYWRITESFANTASY @MANJIROSGIRL @vamperilous @MADDY-HAT @cakernofakers @builtd-different25 @kurtasim @shiggyniggy @koreluvsspring @smilee-spooks @beware-thecrow

@m0nim0ni @minnieplier-blog @blehitsriot @moonwad @saikis-seceretcoffeejelly @nainainairi @bakuhoe37 @un-deadinsomniac @nonominchan @utena-akashiya @molita111 @nekolover93 @pimp-in @slaughterbat777 @chxrryvibes @blackchemicals @coldsaladpainter @flamme-meuf2-shiggy @aphorditeslust @just-yer-average-key @rekoii @justnothingguys @weo0o

@rekoii @down-with-the-shigness @softkao @night-shadowblood-writes2

[hellokittystims]

Loose curls ❤️

Hair series part 2

not in order: x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x / x

[plscallmeeren]

D I F F E R E N T

Hermione Jean Granger x Lavender Brown x Reader

Request: sorta

Summary: Lavender, your girlfriend, is very affectionate and jealous of Hermione, who is obviously interested in you. You have no complaints as they slowly compete for your attention (not smut, but one kinda steamy scene)

Warnings: Swearing; semi-public stim; if you comment make it make sense I will agree

Word Count: 1.1K+

You laughed at Lavender kindly as she systematically evicted your roommate and her best friend Parvati from the room, closing the door behind her. You set your book down, welcoming her into your bed. It was almost time for your next Transfiguration class, but you didn't particularly mind.

She cuddled up to you, entangling her legs with yours under the covers. "I miss you, (y/n/n). All those classes you're taking..."

"Hey, I'll always make time for you," you whispered, holding her a little tighter.

Lavender hummed, planting her palms firmly on either side of your head before kissing you, her entire body moving in tune with her lips as she leaned impossibly closer to you. You tangled your own hands at the base of her hairline, deepening something that already felt as close as yourself.

She rolled onto you, straddling your hips, making you groan. "Skip your next class for me?"

"Sorry, baby, I've already missed too much," you apologized, hands wandering down her back to cup her ass. "But I'd be happy to go to the Prefects' bathroom with you this evening?"

She murmured something incoherent but definitely unimpressed, shifting restlessly so that your fists clenched.

"Fine." She lay back down beside you, expression sour. "But I'm expecting a minimum of three times. And I want to spend more time with you in general. I feel like everywhere I look, there's just that Granger girl..."

Your thumb caressed her cheekbone, passing over constellations of mild freckles, pointing towards the streaking gold of her hair. "It doesn't matter. It's all you. Hermione is my friend. Okay?"

"I guess."

"No, really. It is all you, because you are beautiful and kind and passionate - don't bother thinking about anyone else. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Good." You cuddled a little longer but soon you had to make your way through the maze of moving stairs, the talking armor and the drinking portraits. She stayed behind, feeling ready for your return already.

The class was mostly dull; a monotone repetition of something that obviously appeared bland to Professor McGonnagle also, because she seemed just as close to falling off her chair as half the class.

Unlike Hermione, of course.

"So," she turned to you, both your fabrics transformed into little doll's dresses, "you think your dress would suit me?"

You eyed the skimpy cut (you had accidentally lost some of it in transformation), then looked back at Hermione. "I'm sure. Not many wouldn't." You smiled sincerely, hoping she wouldn't take it as you flirting. It was just a compliment - that was all.

She blushed furiously. "Well, I have some dresses I could show you sometime... I'm free tonight-"

"I have a girlfriend," you reminded her curtly, brows raised. Her brown curls wisped before her large eyes, lips slightly parted as her hands fidgeted in her lap.

"Right. I didn't mean- I mean- I thought-" McGonnagle cleared her throat at the front of the class, and Hermione seemed all too glad to avert her attention.

You sighed, unable to pay attention to the class. Hermione was certainly very attractive and from what you had seen, kind and clever, too. She would never be on the same level as Lavendar, your girl, who you knew and loved, but...

Your eyes wandered over her back, the studious hunch of her shoulders and the wild mass of hair...

Before you knew it, forty minutes had passed and you hadn't taken a single note.

•••

You had Herbology with Lavender, which turned out to be the most interesting theory lesson you'd ever had in the subject.

She had moved your right hand to her thighs, grinning at you when you had pressed your finger into her clit through her pants. Throughout the lesson you irregularly stroked her - either with a digit or two, or the side of your hand, or your palm - and she would always grip her seat like her life depended on it, pressing her lips together forcefully as to not make a sound.

There was Charms and Care of Magical Creatures, and finally there was only you and the night.

You skipped up two stairs at a time on your way to the bathroom, making sure to flash your prefect's badge particularly loudly, not that anyone was around.

You swung the door open, beaming already, finally her dark silhouette was framed against the light-

Except it wasn't Lavender.

"Hermione?" you asked carefully, purposefully avoiding eye contact with her towel-wrapped bosom.

"(Y/n)! I, uh- I didn't realize- I was just finishing up-"

"No, don't," you stopped her flustered state, wincing at how it sounded. "I mean, don't hurry for me. I'll wait outside, it's fine."

"You could also stay, you know-"

"I've had enough of you!" A loud voice followed a loud bang. "Why can't you just let me have something? But no, you always have to take them-"

"I haven't taken anybody! McLaggen never fancied you, and I certainly didn't want to be with him. Ron left because of you, nothing ever happened between us. And (y/n) isn't leaving you even though I'd like it because for once someone does love you properly!"

Both girls were silent, breathing heavily, while you watched, brows raised, feeling slightly unwell.

Before you could tell what was happening, however, they embraced, a mass of waves and curls that emanated quiet snivels. You blinked, unsure what was going on. How did it happen? One second they were fighting, the next...

"I'm so sorry, I didn't mean it, they obviously weren't right for you anyway...," Hermione cried into her shoulder, clenching her fists around the purple fabric of Lav's shirt tighter.

"I know it wasn't your fault, and I'm so sorry about Krum, that must've been really hard," your girlfriend replied, holding your friend like her life depended on it.

"We're just so different, I guess I found it easy to blame things on you."

"I get it, I did it, too. And you know- I mean- if (y/n) would have us, I could share. I think there's enough love there for both of us... I don't know if we... but I don't want to take anything away from you again, Hermione..."

You blinked again, more aggressively this time. What were they deciding without you? Of course you liked both of them, but wouldn't that cause tension? Would you be able to pay them both enough attention? How...

"What do you say?" Hermione asked, now turning to you. Her towel slipped slightly, making you gulp.

"I honestly have no idea what's going on, but I think so, yeah."

————

—> my exact words after writing this bcs it's two am I have to go to school tomorrow why am I doing this to myself nothing makes sense and I don't know why my type like bold italic left right middle stuff isn't working I'm so tired you can literally feel the quality declining as it goes on

[dootznbootz]

just so you know, YOU'RE 🫵 the reason i draw odysseus with very curly hair now. I imagined him with slightly curly hair before,, but now he has CURLY hair. You once mentioned how sometimes he even has perm and i haven't been the same since.

And i love it it's genuinely so much fun to draw

YEAH!!!! I love curly curly curl curly Q you do!!!!

He gets it from his mom and Ctimene has it too! It's a "Hermes descendant" thing >:D Another Hermes thing is Freckles which they all have >:D

It's mostly because of the "Hyacinths in full bloom" as WOW that's PRETTY. (part of where "Pretty boy conman" comes from)

It gets frizzy a lot and he'll often just shove it into his Pileus. (Thick curly hair needs a LOT of care. It's literally because of the "divinity" in him that it's not a constant mess) Man is kind of like Merida with curls (not color though!)

It's long too and it's where some of his brain is >:D he's like Samson where if you cut it, he loses his power. He get stupid :P

To ME, it's basically THIS but longer, and sometimes gets "poofier" depending on stuff like weater, bedhead, hathair, HELMET hair, etc. (Or straight up like Wolfy's new Art except more red/brown as I basically SCREAMED "That's it!!! It's a mane of HAIR!!! LONG AND CURLY!!!! lksdjf lkdsj " )

I think it's kind of funny/ironic for his hair to be a "mane" despite the fact that he's never described like a lion in the Iliad (from what I remember) while the other men were. He's the one that has a literal lion's mane but he's never compared to one because...personality. He's described as one in Odyssey but still!!! It's IRONY!!!! >:D Plus it's Penelope's favorite fidget/stim and Baby Telemachus' favorite thing to yank >:D

A cute little thing 🥺 I have long hair and one thing I used to do was "hide in it" from my family to play and be silly in. When Odysseus and Ctimene are really little they did the same with their parents 😭 Especially as they can "hide easier" by just flopping the giant curls over their faces. They thought they were sneaky 🥺

[collectivecloseness]

omg how did I miss that ask about catboy kurt that is so cute!! Tbh I immediately would've thought puppy kurt because idk I guess because Joe has a very infamously puppy-like face lol. But kitty kurt totally makes sense! He seems like the type who likes to curl up in your lap and nudge you with his head when he wants attention 🥰

Absolutely puppy!Kurt works so so well and I would definitely love to talk about him too! But catboy Kurt Kunkle is also such an amazing thought lmaoo

(Obviously hybrid stuff ahead so just skip if it’s not for you! :))

Cat hybrid Kurt is a headbutter. Sometimes it’s to get your attention, sometimes it’s affectionate, sometimes it just feels good to him to do so. But he will absolutely ram his head into you if he needs to get his point across about something also. Even if you’re saying “Ow! What the hell? Kurt. Stop.” He wants something from you and he will keep going!

But then he’ll also lovingly nuzzle his head/face right into you too so it’s very sweet <3 💕 If not sometimes a bit ticklish, especially because he’ll be on top of you and pushing you down with his face with little to no escape

Attention whore of a cat hybrid, Kurt is a slut for attention anyway, but he’s so dramatic about it like this. He can be kinda fickle and sassy and a bit stubborn, and will bite down on you quickly just to get you to look up at him, even if he’s staring daggers at you when you do because hello why are you on your phone and not looking at him right now??

Biting you biting you biting you. Only quickly though. Enough to get your attention. And to move away before you pull his face off of you, don’t push him away >:(. Gaining your attention and pulling back so you’re immediately looking right at him once you’ve assessed ‘the damage’, and then he can tell you what you’re doing wrong; mostly not giving him ‘adequate attention’.

Clings onto you, and will accidentally scratch you with his fingernails. But it’s worse when he’s climbing all about, getting on the head of the sofa and crawling down you because clearly he was so uninteresting before this. Kurt will wait in the shadows and pounce; one second you’re putting your keys by the door, and the next Kurt is on your back in a surprise attack and is clinging on so you can’t shake him off, asking why were you twenty minutes late today he was so bored without you.

But kitty!Kurt is also so sweet. He absolutely curls up on your lap. Ends up dozing off on you some afternoons, but if you wake him up (because he’s heavy, and he’s breathing wetly into your neck, and he’s twitching in his sleep), then he’s complaining and trying to tiredly drag you to bed so you’ll nap with him. He’ll curl up to you in a much more comfy way in bed. He just wants to be all close and warm with you and snooze right now, please?

And again, the nuzzling is very very sweet of Kurt. Sometimes a bit ticklish, but he loves doing it so much until you’re positively snorting with laughter, his own chuckles escaping him as he scrunches his cute face up, not letting your face move anywhere away from him.

When Kurt’s feeling soft and domestic he will gently push and rub his hands into your body, you’re not sure if it’s kneading type behaviour or a stim, or Kurt just likes it cause he’s Kurt. He loves just moulding your thighs and your tummy and your chest and even your face, anywhere he can get at you. Although again, he’s pressing you down and you’re gonna be stuck with him on top of you if his eyes have turned to full moons and he’s caught up on smooshing your cheeks over and over.

Kurt baps at your nose too. Lightly and lovingly though, not full on smacking you. Not unless his coordination’s fucking him over again. Sometimes you wake up with a tickly nose, and Kur’s big brown eyes staring down transfixed at you. His face super close as he studies you, in his very Kurt way. And oh he’s straddling you to do so, good morning to you too man.

He will give you small little licks as well. I hc Kurt definitely does lick you occasionally in an everyday type au, but he’s very sweet with it in this one. Gives you little kisses planted all up the side of your face, then a small kitten lick there too. Kurt likes grooming you, which also spreads his scent everywhere so you stink like Kurt™️, and other hybrids can smell him on you, and vice versa.

It’s also a really nice way of spending lots of time together, and with him getting to be affectionate and mark you up and be loving with you, just in the somewhat quiet he rarely let himself have before you.

But he likes just sitting with you as you stroke through his, freshly washed, hair, and you kiss over his face softly, whilst he gives slow and small licks all over your face. Gentle laps here and there to your chin, your cheek, your nose, your head, your lips - which turns into him being able to kiss you very happily. Although Kurt does have to learn that yes you are going to wash off if he has absolutely laved your face in his spit, and he’s just lapped at your hairline as well, you are going to take another shower, yes he can join you while you do so.

He loves that you allow him to express his own way of love with you, you’ve never thought he was weird, or told him off for doing something he’s trying to be nice with, and he’s so thankful for you for that.

And after a long day of working on his social media and his life and all of that stuff that makes his head buzz, Kurt loves being able to crawl to you from behind, spooking you as he silently crawls up and over the arm rest, before snuggling in your lap. Purring into your neck, pushing his head in there because it feels stimulating for Kurt and it’s nice and warm and soft and smells like you, and a mix of you and him after he’s finished politely lapping and gently nibbling at it. All while you stroke his bare back with your soothing nails, and read to him. Answering any and all his questions that pop into his mind while he’s snuggling with you, and speaking with him so softly every time.