Jay

With the way that ableism is unfortunately making a rise with Borderline Personality Disorder, Narcissistic Personality Disorder, and cluster b disorders in general becoming the target of therapyspeak and unfair labeling, I thought it best to make a collection of drabbles that's accepting of mental health [all mental health, not just cluster B disorders]. I don't care how OOC this is, I feel like we can afford to have a bit of OOC when it comes to comfort. :D

The mental illnesses and medication needed aren't specified, which I hope makes immersion easier. If this is received well [and you guys want more], I can write more mental health-care esque fics and headcanons. :) We need to take care of ourselves, especially in a world like this.

Enjoy, and...take your meds. :P [With milk and food! Whatever your pharmacist or pill bottle tells you.]

Included: All prime assets, Emily Barlow, Easterman, Ex-pops [Pitcher, Night Hunter, Danny], Amelia, Dorris.

TW for Dr Futterman threatening to give Phyllis a lobotomy. With...fatherly love, of course. I guess.

Antis and minors begone <3

Easterman —

"You know, darling...medication is medicine for the brain."

Obviously. But you kept your eyes on Easterman with intrigue; he was able to capture you with a simple sentence. His talent.

"And when one is sick...tell me, is it shameful to take medicine?"

"...No," you answered after a moment of silence. He looked at you expectantly, a brow raised. "Would you shame a veteran, who shed blood for this country, for taking pills to silence the screams in his head?"

"...No."

"You could, arguably, brave it out. But who are you trying to impress?"

"...Nobody."

"My point exactly, my dear." Easterman took a sip of water as he shook your bottle of medication, "So why is sickness of the mind any different?"

...He had a point.

He held out your medication, his expression soft. "Life is not about suffering to impress others, I hope you come to learn this."

Emily —

"You took your medication?"

"Mhm."

The silence was comfortable as Barlow's manicured fingers took the little cup full of pills into them, her brows furrowing. "Now, what did Easterman say about lies?"

Some pills lay at the bottom of the little paper cup, her gaze questioning. To be fair, she never specified which medication. The ones you were on, or the ones you were forced to be put on.

"You're not pathetic for needing them, you know," she murmured, "The other reagents in here suffer for the same reasons you do. They just aren't..."

It took her a moment.

"...Eager, to accept their issues."

She refilled your glass of water, "Better to be sane than insane in this place, darling."

Amelia —

Behind her glasses, you could see Amelia's gaze was concerned as she noted the two little pills still left in your cup.

"Gotta take em, y'know," She whispered, sitting down in front of you; the other reagents were engaging in armwrestling, unable to hear you or care.

"They'll force em down your throat. It's not pretty."

You just hummed, wiping your face. "I know."

Amelia gnawed on her lip for a moment, reaching into her attire to pull out a chocolate bar.

Used as payment around here due to its rarity, it was almost as if she was paying you to take your medication.

"For each pill...you get one quarter of the chocolate bar. Deal?"

She got you good.

Dorris —

"Still not takin' them fuckin' meds, huh?"

Dorris exhaled smoke from her mouth, her body laid against the table with a carefree manner; despite that, her tone sounded pressed.

"You gotta, darlin'. Lest you want them freaks forcin' em down your throat." She raised a brow. Did you truly want that?

You were silent, the cup of medication still in your hand. She bit her lip before murmuring,

"Henrietta would want you to."

That's good enough for you.

Leland Coyle —

"Medication? That helps ya feel better?"

His scoff was one of disbelief, his brow raising behind his glasses as he stared at you. "And you're not takin' em? Are you fuckin' stupid?"

"They make me feel horrible."

He simply clicked his tongue, shaking his head slightly as the cigarette between his lips bobbed, "But they'll also make you feel better, ain't that the fuckin' point? It's worth it."

Having a cop scold you for not taking medication was...odd, but...he seemed to know it was working.

"Take em and I'll fry the next sonovabitch that spawns in here, eh?" He smirked, "That good enough?" Good enough for you, bad enough for the Pusher that just came through the elevator's doors.

Mother Gooseberry —

Motherlike in every sense of the word as her free, puppet-less hand guides a small, white pill to your mouth. "Open up, dearest! Pills make us happy!"

But you did no such thing, keeping your face stoic. The theme park around you did nothing to sway you, either.

"No no, Phyllis, the BLUE pills are whats make us happy," Futterman scolded, "White makes your brains hurt."

"Hush now, Doctor Daddy," she scoffed, "You're a dentist, not a head scientist."

"If I was, I would've given yous a lobotomy a long time ago!"

You just took the pills so they'd stop yapping.

Franco Barbi —

Instead of his usual "take the pacifier", this time it seemed to be;

"Take the medication."

His gloved fingers had a small white pill between them, almost carefully. He wasn't new to pills. Shit, he marketed them at one point. Just not the...head kind, if you catch his drift.

"Come on, sweetness," He whistled, "It ain't gonna fuckin' hurt ya. I'll even hold ya hand- you want that? You wanna hold my fuckin' hand?"

And that's how you ended up holding Franco's hand as you swallowed each pill, his eyes eagerly watching your throat shift to push the pills down into your gut.

"Good job," he patted your cheek, "Now, uhh...be a dear and stay away from my mules, capiche?"

He doesn't even have to ask.

Otto and Arora —

"You know..."

Otto moved the pill around in his fingers, looking at it with amusement. "This is usually where we bribe a poor, innocent fool with money or something grander."

"Are you suggesting Reagent is a poor, old fool?" Arora questioned, her hand by his neck toying with your fingers.

"Not at all, my dear. But I do think bribery is a must in this circumstance if they refuse to take their medication."

Arora hummed. "I see."

You stared at him with confusion, blinking lazily. "And what exactly can you bribe me with?"

He looked around for a moment. "Well, my dear...I do think this shopping mall is at our disposal, no?"

"A...lowly shopping mall," you could hear Arora's disgust, "in exchange for their health. An insult, really."

Otto simply rolled his eyes, but you took the pills anyway.

Pitcher —

"Aggghhh."

In Pitcher language, that clearly had meant, "take your medication you little shit". You knew him well enough to know that; he loved using threats. He never went through with them, but you wouldn't exactly deny a guy coated in molotovs ready to be lit.

"Not worth the brain fog I'll have, Pitch."

He gave you an unimpressed expression, the gasoline coming off of him swaying your nose. Pitcher gave you brain fog, but it was consensual brain fog. You even got physical affection out of it.

Not like you remember most of it, but whatever.

He gently smushed the pill against your closed lips, his eyes unblinking. "Raggghh."

...He meant business.

Night Hunter —

"Glooow woooooorm," his accented voice was quiet and yet so bold as he roamed the dark hallway. "I told you to take those little pills, and you've defied me."

It took no effort to find you, hiding behind the curtains. The orphanage was full of wonderful hiding spots, such as...those.

"Really?" He scoffed, pulling the curtains away. "An insult. An insult to me, I tell you!"

"I'm not taking them. Fuck that."

"Well fuck you, too. I won't if you refuse to do what I've asked of you."

Shithead. He cared...somewhat.

Danny —

"A tiny little thing, this is."

The pill looked like an ant in the giant's large fingers, his eyes scanning the pill to the best of his ability. "And you're afraid to take this lil thing, honey?"

"Not afraid. Just not...happy with what it does."

"Hm."

And that was that until he bent down, placing the pill into your hand. "I can't force ya to do anythin' ya don't want to, but...if it can make ya feel better, why not take that shot?"

☆ DR. H. J. EASTERMAN Stimboard ☆

[TW: needles, medical imagery, pills, cigarettes, hands]

Suggestive asf but anyway

The hand on the clock moves on, ticking quietly, without rush or delay. Even so, time seems to stretch on to him, sitting in the armchair that’s technically both is and is not his, the clothes the same story. He pulls at the neck of his sweater, noting the softness of the alpaca wool despite the barrier of his gloves. He readjusts the item again to sit flush against his body. 

Between him and the older segment, there’s not much of a difference. Not in the terms of their physique, although now that he’s wearing the other’s clothes, he notes where Zandik’s body has changed and how. It’s woven into the threads of the wool, tailored to fit the body of the forty-five year old man, not his self ten years before. 

It’s clothing more akin to the clothes worn by the natives of Snezhnaya. But his own self frozen in time does not have the means to assess and interpret that change other than with an educated guess. For his mission, however, he cannot be impatient or frustrated. So he focuses again on the book in his hand, resting his cheek against his fist as he reads.

Segment 18

He’s definitely more leaning on the desperate side. Like he’s just so excited to finally stick his dick in between your thighs that all reason is lost. 18 definitely complains that he can’t properly be inside of you, but he’ll settle this time. His thrusts are more erratic compared to some of the others, and he cums REALLY fast. And the whole time you can hear him trying to keep quiet while biting his lip until it bleeds because it hurts his pride to be heard whimpering. Sometimes you can even feel his earring swinging against you as he’s thrusting. 18 would also feel you up during it…like his hands are groping your thighs, tits, whatever he can get his greedy little hands on.

Segment 25

He’d probably be a bit more refined compared to 18, but he’s still not the brooding guy he makes himself out to be. He starts off slow and sensually, getting a feel for the difference in grip of your hole versus your thighs. 25 focuses on the smooth glide of his dick, the grip he has on your hips, the way he can faintly smell your neck and lotion. The more he zeroes in on your scent and feeling of your body, the faster his pace picks up. 25 would slowly start to get faster, his breathing becoming heavier, but remaining mostly silent. If you were lucky, however, you might hear a soft moan or two. As he cums, the grip he has on your body tightens ever so slightly, and his glasses even slip down his nose as he shakes from the aftershocks of orgasm.

Segment 35 / Omega

He is most definitely taking control of the situation. He’s whispering all up in your ear either praising or degrading you (whichever he feels like) as his cock slides between your thighs with ease. By this point, he’s a lot more experienced, and a lot more cocky. He’s probably the most rough with you compared to the rest of the segments, but don’t think that they’re gentle, either. Omega would probably opt for thigh jobs when he’s trying to switch things up, or when the two of you are doing field work and don’t want to be caught by anyone else. Every now and again, he’d brush his shaft right up against your sex, and maybe he’d slip it in briefly before pulling it back out to continue fucking your thighs. He might even press the tip of his mask by your shoulder when he gets close just to see you squirm a little bit.

Segment 45 / Prime

He’d be much more….polite(?) to you. Granted, the nature of a thigh job is pretty vulgar. He’d be similar to Omega, but a lot more romantic with it. He mostly opts for praising you, but he can degrade you every now and again. The ratio of praising to degrading would probably be around 75:25. While he’s thrusting in between your legs, he’s slowly running his hands up and down your sides, but he’s definitely still going to be teasing you during it, don’t be mistaken. Prime is rough, but not as rough as someone like Omega. He might crane his neck down to your ear so you can also finish, but he’s a lot more satisfied when he knows it’s because of something like his voice or the glide of his hands.

Segment 65

He’d be a GENTLEMAN don’t lie to me. Similarly to 25, he’d probably be more slow and sensual with it, romantic like Prime, but it’s even more nice. He, too, runs his hands over your body, but he does it like he plans to commit every curve and dip to memory. 65 would probably kiss the back of your neck or the slope of your shoulder while he’s thrusting between your legs, and he’s definitely telling you how perfect your body feels. He’s probably not much of a talker during sex in general, but especially not so much during a thigh job. He might grunt or curse, but he isn’t super vocal unlike his younger counterparts. However, something he might place his top hat on your head as he rests his head atop your shoulder. Unfortunately, he doesn’t last very long, but he’s happy to indulge in your whims.

Zandik

When you first proposed the idea to him, he was dumbfounded. Not at the idea itself, but because you wanted to do it with him and not a younger segment. He’ll still oblige, of course, but silently pleased that you still find him attractive after time had worn down his body into an elderly man. Most sex with Zandik is sweet rather than lustrous, yes it plays a part, but it’s gentle. It takes some time for him to get it up in the first place, but he’ll either take the time to get his dick hard, or take something viagra-adjacent. Zandik is for sure burying his head in the crook of your neck, fully wrapping his arms around your waist and stomach as he slowly pulses between you. Similarly to 65, he doesn’t have a very high stamina. It’s the lowest, in fact. But who says you can’t give your old man a treat every now and again?

Bonus! Webttore

So I personally headcanon him to be around 20 years old, so he’d be like a freaky mix of 18 and 25. He’s just as desperate as 18 is, so his hips are moving at a mile per minute. However he’s MUCH more vocal than everyone else, moaning and grunting without a care in the world. He wants you to know how good you make him feel, what can he say? It drives him crazy that he isn’t really inside of you, but he’s close enough to your sex that it’ll have to do. When he gets close or cums, he’s biting the junction in between your shoulder and neck, his sharp teeth grazing and puncturing the skin.

Anyway

MDNI

So I’m thinking in a modern au right….

Imagine being a pornstar and you lowkey have a secret admirer

college zandik who is in premed and never really goes out of his way to talk to anyone because he just….lowkey dgaf. He’s very set on his goal of becoming a doctor, and it takes a lot to distract him from that.

college zandik is also one of the most unintentionally sexy creatures to walk the earth. Near constantly half lidded eyes with these unfairly long lashes, glasses that sit on the bridge of his hooked nose, messy hair that always looks intentional, and a figure that’s not quite a tribute to time in the gym but just lottery-grade genes. The way his sweatpants hang from his hips is ridiculous, not to mention…well, nevermind that.

college zandik runs on coffee, spite, and pure drive. The most sleep he’s gotten in the past 6 months is probably 5 hours in one night. Even when he’s not in class or on campus, he never takes breaks from studying. It destroys his social life, but that’s not even in the realm of his mind.

college zandik is also still in the time of his life where sexual urges can get difficult to ignore once it’s been a while since taking care of them. Because of this, he’s adapted well.

He’d made a ritual of ‘rewarding himself’ when assignments or exams went well. While studying, sometimes, he’d have his tablet propped up in front of him, playing a video of you on a livestream stuffing a dildo continuously into your hole, legs spread wide open for the camera’s view.

college zandik would pump his cock to each stroke, eyes locked on the way you greedily swallowed up the toy that he’d payed for, listening to you moan his ridiculous undercover handle. His cum would splatter on the floor in a humiliating puddle, and he’d be left to clean up the evidence.

He’d sent you more money than he probably should have since finding your page. He’d pay for your coffee runs, for things you had on various wishlists, for toys he could watch you use and thank him through strings of sugary sweet moans.

college zandik fucking loved your body, and loved the way you could use it to assert so much control over him.

Little did he know, you were giggling with delight when he finally slid into your DMs (not for free, of course). You’d fully expected him to be some middle aged man with a family using you as an outlet to indulge in his guilty pleasures.

When he finally mustered up the courage to send a photo of himself, you browsed Pinterest three times, fully convinced he’d taken someone’s aesthetically pleasing, sexy selfie to use as a front. But nope, that was him.

college zandik was completely obsessed with impressing you, so he’d comply with whatever you asked. You wanted a video of him desperately stroking his cock to a photo of you? Of course. You wanted him to send an audio of him just moaning your name? Done.

For him, it was an act of degradation to please you. For you, it was the sexist man you’d ever seen bending to your will for reasons you couldn’t understand.

After that, you started sending him photos and videos free of charge.

college zandik was confused at first. He loved to give to you, but now you were the one giving to him. But more than that, you were starting to text him about more than just plain sexting.

About your day,

The things you were excited about

The things you were annoyed about,

And he started getting comfortable too.

Of course, that didn’t mean you weren’t still phonefucking 24/7. college zandik had grown more bold.

Tell me exactly how you want me to fuck you into the mattress.

You’ll cum as many times as the number I’m holding up on my fingers.

Maybe this whole time, you’re actually the one who’s been my bitch.

Heavens, had he grown vulgar. Dominant. Controlling.

You were irritating your neighbors to no end every time you fucked yourself deep on one of the dildos he’d bought you, closing your eyes and allowing yourself to envision the image of a sexy nerd on top of you, aggressively rearranging your guts, pulling your hair, cutting off your airflow, throwing you around.

Your livestreams had become so obviously self indulgent, having accidentally let a ‘zandik’ slip from your lips while you touched yourself for thousands of patrons watching you do it.

They started to speculate you had a boyfriend.

That might be nice.