#'there's way more important things than this!!!'

[ao3cassandraic]

I actually don't think this is hard at all.

The balance is where you can still do useful stuff.

For me, that's "basically no news because if I see news I flip out and become incapable of doing anything." Because the doing, not the knowing, is what's important.

One way I make this work: leaning on trustworthy others to do the figuring-out-what-to-do for me. Americans of Conscience Checklist, 5Calls, ResistBot, all those. I recommend them highly.

[merrinla]

More finds in the cut content. What's interesting is that this is post-game content. I don't know if these are pieces of DLC or an extended epilogue. Rook and Lucanis drink wine in a gondola. In one version, Lucanis refused to be First Talon and left the crows. The Viper arrives to Treviso to hire Lucanis to kill the local Venatori. The lines in the localization file are out of order. I've organized them as best I could, but I'm not sure if everything is correct.

The gondola scene

Rook: What are we celebrating? Revenge? Saving the world? Lucanis: How about a quiet moment? Rook: Is it quiet? Really? Lucanis: If it's not quiet, it's at least clear.

Option: If only the Antaam were gone. Rook: Treviso's beautiful. Too bad it's filled with Antaam.

Option: You're surprisingly romantic. Rook: Who knew you were a romantic? Lucanis: You bring it out in me. Rook: Yeah, yeah. I'm a bad influence.

Option: Let's not go back. Rook: Let's stay here forever. Lucanis: A little. Not forever.

Rook: What? No fancy glasses? Lucanis: That's Caterina's style. I'm more pragmatic. Lucanis: Well, more pragmatic than her anyway.

Option: Learn from your elders. Rook: There's nothing wrong with a bit of class. Lucanis: (Chuckles) I'll remember for next time. Rook: Oh yes. This is so pragmatic. Lucanis: I know.

Option: Casual's better. Rook: Less clean up. Rook: That's why we're having drinks in a gondola instead of the kitchen. Lucanis: Knew you'd understand.

Lucanis: Is it wrong? Enjoying ourselves while the Antaam terrorize our home... (Crow Origin) Lucanis: Is it wrong? Enjoying ourselves while the Antaam terrorize Antiva... Rook: Does it feel wrong?

(apparently Rook moved, causing the boat to rock.) Lucanis: Careful. Gondolas are more fashionable than they are stable. Rook: They're plenty sturdy. Rook: See. Nothing to— Rook: Oops? Lucanis: You were saying? Rook: Sorry. Lucanis: (Chuckles) Classic Rook. Rook: I've made things awkward. Lucanis: I like this side of you. Lucanis: More wine? Rook: I saved the wine? Lucanis: (Laughs)

(Talon's version) Rook: How are you settling in as First Talon? Lucanis: There was some initial... friction with Caterina, but she got over it. Lucanis: She thought I'd do things her way and was surprised when I had my own ideas. Rook: Really? You'd think she'd be the most welcoming. Lucanis: No.

Rook: Have you spoken to Caterina or the others? Lucanis: Letters here and there. We haven't met since the party. Lucanis: I don't want to cut ties. Lucanis: But Caterina needs to get used to the fact that I'm no longer her heir. Rook: Are you used to it? Lucanis: I was never comfortable with the role to begin with. Rook: So, no regrets? Lucanis: (Sigh) Rook: It's a yes or no question, Lucanis. Lucanis: It's not. You've enough experience with regret to know that.

Rook: I respect your decision to walk away. Lucanis: It wasn't an easy decision. Lucanis: It was hard. Walking away. Rook: It was hard watching it. Lucanis: Let's not talk about me.

Rook: It's not an interrogation if you care. Lucanis: Why not? I've been thoroughly interrogated. Rook: (Snorts) Is that how it works?

Option: Your priorities have changed. Rook: You've changed your tune. Lucanis: I am. On what's important.

Lucanis: Rook. I owe you. For my life, my freedom.

Option: Consider it paid in full. Rook: That debt was paid when you helped us defeat the elven gods. Lucanis: No. That was a job. What you've done for me...

Option: I needed a mage killer. Rook: I had selfish reasons. Lucanis: Rook. I'm serious. Lucanis: Whatever your reasons...

Lucanis: The Venatori killed the man I was. Lucanis: You put the fight—the life—back into me. Rook: I... Thanks.

Lucanis: If you need someone taken care of... Just say the word. Lucanis: Your enemies are House Dellamorte's enemies. (Talon's line) Lucanis: Your enemies are my enemies.

Option: You make murder sound sweet. Rook: Awww. That's sweet. And scary. Lucanis: Of course those are the same thing to you. Rook: I was only teasing. Lucanis: How am I supposed to argue when you say things like that?

Option: I'll settle for friendship. Rook: Or we could just be friends? No killing required. Rook: I still care about you—as a friend. Lucanis: Didn't want you to get the wrong idea... Lucanis: We're still friends. Lucanis: If that's what you want... Rook: Appreciate it.

(non romance/friendship version?) Rook: Oh, I'm aware. Just haven't figured out what I want in return. Lucanis: (Chuckles) Lucanis: For a price. Rook: And you'll charge me... Lucanis: Like I said—a fair rate. (Talon's line) Lucanis: I'm not a Crow anymore. Rates are negotiable. Rook: Still sounds pretty Crow-y to me.

Rook: It's passed sundown. Lucanis: (Sighs) Rook: Time to go? Lucanis: I've business before we return. Rook: What kind of business? Lucanis: Competitive analysis.

Lucanis: Don't worry. I'll collect. Rook: Fun time over? Lucanis: I've business before we return. Rook: What kind of business? Lucanis: Competitive analysis.

Possibly lines from a subsequent quest.

Rook: Business at a Chantry. Not very Andrastian of you. Lucanis: What in our experience together makes you think I'm a good Andrastian? Rook: (Chuckles) Fair enough.

Rook: You sound like you have a plan. Lucanis: Always another mark. Rook: I take it the Antaam are the subject of this so-called analysis? Rook: Why do I get the feeling there's going to be less "analysis" and more stabby-stab? Lucanis: Keeps Wrath content. (Wrath is Spite's previous name?)

Lucanis: Viago said it'd be a fitting spot. Rook: You've proven it's a good spot for an ambush. Rook: And you're loud. Which do you think will attract the Antaam?

Meeting with Ashur. It seems as if Lucanis and the Viper were discussing their business, and then Rook came.

The Viper: If you don't trust my intel— Lucanis: I trust your intel and... Lucanis: Fortunate the Rook is here to save the day. Rook: The Rook can detect sarcasm!

Option: Ashur, you shouldn't be here. Rook: This isn't Minrathous. Rook: Ashur, if the Antaam find out you're here... The Viper: I've paid the right people so that they don't.

Option: You two make quite the pair. Rook: The Viper and the Demon. Sounds like a nursery rhyme to scare children.

The Viper: I was just leaving. Rook: Leaving so soon? Rook: You don't have to. Lucanis and I could show you the sights. Rook: There's wine tasting, Antaam assassinating, gambling— Lucanis: Rook. The Viper: You're ruining Rook's fun. Rook: Think about my offer.

The Viper: Should I pay now or— Lucanis: Just go.

Rook: What did he want? Lucanis: Some of us have work to do. Lucanis: It's about time I take care of things at home.

Rook: Who's the mark? Lucanis: Venatori who fled Minrathous after Elgar'nan's fall. Rook: That's why Ashur was here. Lucanis: He's the one who hired me to dismantle the Venatori in the first place. Lucanis: Might as well finish the job.

The most unclear part. Maybe it's related to the quest to kill the Venatori that Viper pointed out.

Rook: Can't take the huge door. Lucanis: The Venatori are inside. Strike from above and we'll take them by surprise. Rook: Above, eh? Rook: Good thing I'm not afraid of heights.

Rook: Not sure why Antivans even build doors. Rook: We never use them. (Crow Origin) Rook: You never use them. Lucanis: We're the Antivan-fucking-Crows.

Rook: We need to be cautious. Rook: If we're not careful, he'll kill the girl. Lucanis: Not if he's dead.

Lucanis: Focus on the self-important bastard. I'll take care of the rest. Rook: They're all self-important—and why do you get so many? Lucanis: Their predictability makes them easy targets.

Venatori: Two, four, six piggies come to slaughter. Venatori: Be grateful. Your meager existence will serve a higher cause. Rook: I'll show you a higher cause right up your— Venatori: (Grunts!) Venatori: Uh—God killer! Right he— Lucanis: Mage killer. Venatori: (Yells in pain) Rook: Lucanis! That's cheating! Lucanis!

Lucanis: Fucking Venatori. Rook: (Sigh) You can take the blood mages out of Minrathous, but…

[sttoru]

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. caleb x female reader. fluff, suggestive/smut-ish, tiny bit of angst. not proofread. aftercare with boyfie caleb ^_^

caleb is nothing but sweet to you, in public and in private. but he’s especially considerate after he collapses on the bed, with both your bodies sweaty from the passion you shared. aftercare is mandatory to the colonel—it doesn’t matter when or where you two do it.

“you okay, sweets?” caleb’s voice is a rough rumble, his voice hoarse from exhaustion. you nod wordlessly while trying to calm down after your intense climaxes. his strong arms hold you against his chest with ease, “breathe in ‘n out, mhm, there ya go. atta girl.”

he watches you mimic his pattern of breathing and grins in response. you always blindly followed his instructions—that trust and vulnerability of yours is something he adores and wishes to keep that way. his large hand settles on the back of your head to pat your hair soothingly. you slowly come down from your high and limply rest your head against his hard pecs.

“you did so well, i’m really proud of you,” caleb pinches your cheek like he always does, making you huff and stick your tongue out at him playfully. your boyfriend chuckles before doing the same thing again. he can’t help it; you’re too adorable for your own good.

you shake your head and nuzzle your face into his chest. “mmmh, hurts,” you whine as you try to move your body. your hips are already sore from exertion and they ache whenever you try to move them an inch.

caleb’s eyes darken at your little whine. “hurts? where?” he cups your face immediately to tilt your head, your eyes locking. you’re a bit taken aback by the sudden change in his tone—from laid back to concerned and protective in a split second.

“ah, no, my hips are just a bit sore. nothing out of the ordinary,” you quickly reassure your lover. you know how overprotective caleb gets, and if he had accidentally hurt you in any way, he’ll feel extremely guilty for the rest of the day.

caleb’s frown slowly disappears, but the concern still lingers in his softening eyes. he sighs in relief and a small smile tugs at his lips. “i’m sorry, baby. i’ll make it up to you,” he croons with a breathy chuckle following right after.

his large hands, warm and callused from all that he experienced, settle on your bare hips to massage them. you hum in relief and your eyes close to enjoy the warmth spreading through your tired body.

a loud ringtone suddenly cuts through the lingering tension between you two, snapping you out of your daze. caleb faintly clicks his tongue before turning his head towards his nightstand. he grabs his phone with one hand to check the caller’s id.

the brown-haired man beneath you tenses up. you can feel it almost immediately. his other hand stops massaging your hip for a second before it continues, this time more slowly. caleb’s gaze is cold and his jaw is clenched as he tries to figure out what to do.

“not gonna pick up?” you ask curiously as you lift your head from his chest. caleb quickly tosses his phone away after pressing the red decline button. he shakes his head and that charming smile of his quickly returns to his face.

“nu-uh. no one’s more important than you,” caleb grins and boops your nose. it’s an attempt to distract you so you wouldn’t ask any more questions about the possible caller. and it seems to work, considering you laid your head back on his bare chest, snuggling up to his bare body beneath the crumpled sheets.

you breathe in his musk and can’t help but love it. the faint traces of his cologne mixed with the scent of his body—it’s a heady combination. caleb seems to do the same, his nose buried into the strands of your hair, breathing you in. you smell like home and he loves it, lives for it really.

eventually, you decide it’s time to detangle yourself from your lover. as much as you want to keep him inside and beneath of you, you need to clean up and go to the bathroom.

caleb hisses when you try to roll over and change positions which had caused you to instinctively clench around him. he tightens his muscular arms around your waist to keep you squished on top of him, refusing to let you move.

“stay like this for a little while more, yeah? i promise i’ll let you go in a bit,” caleb whispers in your ear before his tongue teasingly licks at your lobe. he smirks against your skin and you can feel it. you know it’s a lie—he will not let you go for the rest of the night. hell, he might even be ready to go another round.

even if he technically has to leave to take care of all kinds of things. things that will keep you safe and out of harm’s way.

anyway, caleb will deal with the consequences of skipping his duty later. for now he’ll settle to cherish this serene moment with his beloved, before reality comes crashing down again.

[brawberryz]

The other family

Batfam Yan! × Negleted Coraline!Reader

《Platonic》

Note: English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error

Pt: 1 2

Empty

That's how the mansion felt since you disappeared, your defiant yet adventurous energy had disappeared

The only thing left of you was your abandoned room full of dust, no one had dared to enter

Maybe because of guilt, of believing that they were not worthy of you

They were a horrible family for you and they knew it, and now you were lost somewhere alone and scared

Your disappearance affected everyone in different ways

Richard, who was once the pillar of the family was deteriorating

He still remembers all the times he pushed you away or said he didn't have time, he would do anything to go back in time and apologize to you

Jason, had become more aggressive than usual

He had thought that maybe some criminal or villain had kidnapped you, if Bruce hadn't stopped him Jason would have massacred every criminal who crossed his path

Tim, had been working extra hard he didn't even sleep

He and Bruce were trying to find any clues about you but nothing seemed to work, his room was a mess full of papers and coffee cans and energy drinks

He hoped you were okay and that if you came back you would forgive him for all the times he pushed you away from him

Barbara, she was also trying to find any clues about you, she hacked all the cameras in the city to find some kind of trace of you but there was nothing

She wanted to cry, cry from helplessness she was supposed to be like a sister to you

But all she did was push you further away from her, maybe she focused too much on her own responsibilities that she left aside the most important thing

Her family and you

Cass, had been patrolling more than usual looking everywhere

You couldn't be that far away, but sometimes you thought you just left the mansion

Which wasn't weird, they had treated you like garbage all your life it wouldn't be a surprise if you moved out of the mansion or Gotham

Stehp, She had been patrolling with Cass and Jason but unfortunately they couldn't find any interesting clues either

She was one of the only ones who dared to enter your room, but she hadn't found anything

Just old clothes and some of your belongings, your room felt so empty without you

Maybe what made the mansion feel like a home was you, but you weren't here anymore and maybe you would never come back

Bruce, since you left his life had changed

The same feeling from when Jason had died was back but this time stronger

He tried to keep your disappearance private but for some strange reason all of Gotham found out, now everyone knew that Bruce Wayne's daughter was missing

And of course there was no shortage of rumors, many people said they were a bad father and although he hated to accept it he knew they were right

But he swore that he would find you, and he would put aside his principles and morality if it meant having you back

Damian, he was one of those affected since you left, he had changed completely

He didn't even have that same emotion when he had to go on patrol and most of the time he spent locked in his room

His performance at school had dropped, he wanted to pretend that he didn't care but he knew that wasn't true, since you left he felt as if something important had been taken away from him

And he doesn't understand it, he treated you in the worst way, he insulted and humiliated you

But why does he feel so bad now? Maybe it's the guilt that's consuming him, if you came back would you forgive him for everything?

If you came back would you let him be your brother again? He just wants everyone to go back to the way they were before but it seems as if fate and the world were against him

_

Richard knocked softly on Damian's door, he had been trying to get him to come down for breakfast but his attempts were in vain

He knew Damian was going through a difficult time like the whole family, but he couldn't stay in his room all day ignoring reality

"Leave me alone Richard! I'm not going down..."

Damian shouted at him from the other side of the door

"Fine... but if you're hungry I'll save your breakfast"

Richard said before leaving, he knew he shouldn't pressure Damian but it was very noticeable that something wasn't right in him

Maybe the others didn't notice it but he knew that Damian had been crying more than usual, Damian's red eyes were a clear clue to that

Damian snuggled deeper into his sheets, you hated this and he hated this family

Because of everyone's fault you were now missing, and maybe you would never come back

He just wanted everything to change, he wanted to be with you and He would do anything to not be here

_

Damian was walking through the halls of the mansion, he had been looking everywhere for his cat Alfred but he just couldn't find him

When he was walking through a particular hallway he noticed a strange half-open door

That made him raise an eyebrow, strange...

He had never seen that door before, perhaps his father had built a new room, he could swear that before in that place there was only a wall

Curious he approached the door, opened it completely and there was nothing

It was just a dirty room, but something caught his attention

There was a small piece of furniture in the middle of the room and something was on top of the furniture

It was difficult to know what was on top of the furniture because of the darkness of the room, there weren't even windows

He got a little closer and there he saw it, it was a doll But not just any doll

It looked too much like you, but it seemed strange to him that the doll was a little broken, one of its button eyes It was loose, only leaving one button on.

But the doll wasn't alone, there was another one too.

As soon as he saw the appearance of the other doll, he felt that something was wrong.

The other doll looked like him, but this time this doll had two button eyes, and this one didn't look damaged like the other doll.

But something seemed strange to him, there was a key with a rather peculiar appearance.

It looked worn and strange.

He grabbed the key, he thought it would be useful for something, but just when he was about to close the door again, something caught his attention.

A door.

A door in the wall of the room, he quickly entered the room again with curiosity.

He crouched down to the height of the small door, how was it possible that someone could pass through here?

He tried to open it but it was locked so he decided to use the strange key he had found, maybe that was the key

And just as he predicted the door opened, his eyes widened in surprise when he saw the blue hallway full of swirls that was inside the door

Was this a dream?

No... it couldn't be, this was real

He felt like he shouldn't go in but something inside him told him to do it, maybe it was curiosity that made him enter that strange place

But he did it and decided to go in, he just hoped he wouldn't regret this stupid decision

_

The halls of the mansion looked so different, since he crossed the other door it seemed like he was transported to another place

He thought that the door had taken him to the same place, but it wasn't

The mansion was more colorful and full of life, it felt like a dream

But that didn't last long when he felt something push him into a room

When he was about to attack the stranger he saw you

You

I was alive...

You looked disheveled and it seemed as if you hadn't slept properly for weeks

But what caught his attention the most was one of your eyes, it was a button

Part of your face and right eye had dried blood, he could imagine the pain you felt when they put that in your eye

"What the hell are you doing here!?"

You whispered looking at him scared but angry at the same time, this isn't supposed to be happening

Damian isn't supposed to be here, if the others find out it will be the end of you

You couldn't let him have the same fate as you, you weren't going to allow it

"I think it would be a better question to know what YOU are doing here!"

Damian looked at you accusingly, it took him by surprise that you were here

A part of him was angry that someone had hurt you, he swore he would kill the bastard who dared to touch you and hurt you

"It's hard to explain-"

Before you could finish speaking the two of you could hear a cheerful voice approaching the room

Damian noticed how that voice was very similar to Richard's, before he could ask anything you quickly covered his mouth

"Little sister, lunch is ready now you must come down if you don't want it to get cold!"

You reacted quickly and grabbed Damian to hide him in a small closet in the room

When you were about to close the door you gave him a signal to keep quiet, he a little unsure just accepted confused

You closed the closet door to quickly leave the room

And there he was, "richard" or that's what this thing called itself, but you knew it wasn't him

Just an imitator like the whole family

"I'll be down in a moment, I just have to-" you couldn't even finish your sentence when you felt a hand grab your face, you swallowed nervously when you felt him looking at you, maybe his eyes were button-like but that doesn't mean you didn't find them creepy

"You seem too nervous, are you hiding something from me?"

His cheerful tone quickly changed to a serious one, you quickly denied that he couldn't find out that someone else besides you was here

"No! I would never do that, besides you shouldn't keep secrets, right?"

You said trying to hide your nervousness, the grip on your jaw tightened and made you let out a sound of pain.

"Okay... don't be late, lunch will get cold!"

He said quickly changing his tone of voice to a more cheerful one, he let go of you and then left while his presence disappeared through the huge hallways

The pain in your jaw was still there, sometimes you wanted to reveal yourself to them but you knew it would only cause you more problems

And you still didn't want to end up dead with your soul in a mirror

You entered the room again and took Damian out of the closet

You dragged him through the hallways to take him back to his dimension

You ignored the questions he asked you, you weren't in the mood to fight with him, you had to get him out of here before it's too late

"Stop complaining and hurry up, I have to get you out of here as soon as possible.."

He frowned and fell silent, he had too many questions about your appearance and why you were here

You reached the room and you took him to the small door

"Okay, go in now and go!"

You told him trying to get him to come in, he held back not wanting to go in

"And what about you!? You have to come too, you can't stay here!"

Damian tried to take you with him, he wasn't going to let you stay here with these strange creatures, he wasn't going to lose you again

"I have no choice! Do you think I want to be here!? But...but I have to stay, I was stupid and I did things I regret" small tears formed in your eyes, you hated this, you would do anything to change fate "but I won't let you end up like me, so go now!"

He tried to resist going in the door, he wasn't going to lose you again

"I won't let you-"

Before he could finish speaking you gave him a hug, small tears falling from your eyes

Damian hugged you back, as if he was afraid you would leave or disappear

"Remember that your sister loves you, never forget that..."

He could barely react, you pushed him towards the door, the spiral-shaped hallway absorbed him and he couldn't do anything, he saw your face for the last time as you gave him a smile

And the door closed, for the first time he had seen you smile, smile at him and now he will never be able to see that smile again

Damian's body shot out of the room, his body hit the wall and he felt dizzy

He tried to get up to go back into the room, but it was in vain

He saw before his eyes how the door disappeared and only the wall of the hallway was left

"NO!"

He tried to break the wall, but he found nothing, if Richard hadn't found him and stopped him he was sure that he would have broken the entire hallway

Richard tried to get him out of there but all he did was scream saying that you were there

Richard thought that your disappearance affected Damian too much

_

"You have to believe me, father!"

Damian yelled at Bruce, the whole family was calling him crazy

They thought your disappearance was affecting him too much, he wasn't crazy

He swore that everything he saw was real

"You don't understand, Damian"

"Understand what's wrong father!?, (name) is missing and-"

He knew where you were, they just had to believe him, maybe that doll was a clue to your whereabouts

That room was a key clue to knowing your whereabouts but no one seemed to take him seriously

Damian tried to speak again but his father interrupted him, silencing him

"Because I've already been in that world!"

"What?"

Taglist

@hearts4mica @crazycaoticsimp @sirenetheblogger @caged-birdies-blog @l-stvrlightt-l @lilithskywalker

_____>

If you have any questions about this AU I'll be happy to answer them

I hope you all like this chapter since I won't be posting anything new this week

If I have a little time I'll answer some question

[gloomwitchwrites]

aftercare with the boys???

Okay, but I love this question. The wonderful thing about aftercare is that it doesn’t need to be complicated and intricate for it to be effective. Good aftercare is tailored to the couple (or multiples if there are more than two people engaging in sex). But also, not everyone is great at aftercare, and figuring out what works for you might take some trial and error. And let’s also be realistic here, not all of the 141 is going to knock it out of the park…they are human after all.

MDNI

written w/ gn!reader

John Price

Seasoned and experienced, Price understands that aftercare is the standard, not the exception.

Whether it’s just a casual one-night affair, or a long-term relationship, Price goes out his way to make sure aftercare happens.

Price doesn’t assume what your needs are. Instead, he presents options before sex happens. There are a few things that come standard like getting you a glass of water, but there are more specific things he wants to know like whether or not you want a shower afterward, and if you want to take that shower alone or with him.

His favorite form of aftercare involves physical touch. If you’re open to it, Price wants a good cuddle with lots of intimacy.

He’s more than happy to chat you up afterward if you need that. Or, if you just need to yap and for him to stay quiet, he can do that, too.

Affirmations, affirmations, affirmations.

Will follow up with you the next day via text or call to make sure you’re doing okay.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

A firm supporter of aftercare.

He’s not one to fuck and leave. Kyle prefers the long-term commitment. He likes the intimacy.

Won’t ask you before sex what you need for aftercare, but will ask after it’s all done. Kyle keeps a list of different options and will cycle through them depending on how intense the sex was. If the two of you engaged in rougher sex, he’s more likely to try and focus on taking care of you physically.

Will take the initiative on a few things like getting you a glass of water and providing snacks (or ordering delivery.)

Prefers giving massages instead of cuddling (but doesn’t hate the cuddling.)

Does enjoy watching a movie or television show after as a distraction.

Conversation and closeness post-sex is extremely important to him.

John “Soap” MacTavish

This goober doesn’t even know that aftercare is an important part of sex. It takes him a bit to figure it out y’all.

That being said, it’s not until Johnny becomes entangled in a serious relationship that the pieces start to fall into place for him.

While others may go for a more sensual approach, Johnny is all about comfort and having a laugh.

When he cuddles, he cuddles hard, and if you try to wiggle away, think again.

Lots of talking, chatting, and verbal affirmations. This man isn’t only telling you how much he loves you, or that he had a lot of fun, but also is doing his best to make you smile and even laugh.

He is the kind of aftercare partner that is absolutely looking up memes and funny videos for the two of you to watch together.

Would have edibles at the ready (if you want them) and endless snacks.

Open to watching something on television or a movie but make it low stakes. Needs to be a comedy or a trashy reality show.

If the two of you bathe or shower, it’s together. No exception.

Lots of touching.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

Aftercare is a complicated topic when it comes to Simon.

If he’s only there to get his dick wet, don’t expect aftercare. He will get you off, and find his own release, but don’t expect too much after the fact. But he won’t be a brute or an asshole either.

Aftercare comes when you least expect it, when the casual starts to become serious.

It happens almost accidentally, or rather suddenly, and completely on Simon’s terms.

Perhaps the two of you were engaging in some rough sex—at least rougher than normal—and Simon notices some bruising/tender skin. Maybe when he bit down, he drew blood, even if he didn’t mean to.

He immediately starts cleaning you up, tending to any marks he finds. It’s not a quick dab of a cloth but a full onceover. Simon observers every inch of you, checking to make sure you’re fine.

He does a verbal check in as well, because he understands that a physical check isn’t always enough.

Afterwards, he’s taking you for a bath or shower.

Then, it’s an ice pack or heating pad if you need it.

Don’t expect an outpouring of affection, but he will provide a few affirmations to reassure you.

And he will cuddle. It won’t be anything tight or super close, but rather an arm around you to draw you closer to him.

main masterlist

[soup-cansam]

Three things to consider:

1. Trump and Musk are circumventing the legal order because they don’t have the support or apparatus to do this the normal, legal way. It is dismaying how much damage they’re doing but it also means their position is weaker than they’re trying to project. They don’t have the support of the legislature directly (although Republicans in the Senate and the House are complicit, they won’t vote to actively approve the worst of their excesses) and they don’t have the support of the people in general. Trump won 49% of people who bothered to vote, and his margin of win was 1.6%, the slimmest ever.

2. Following on from that, your local reps, House and Senate, absolutely hate getting calls from people. They do not want to be reminded that their position is tenuous and that they can be thrown out on their ass if they don’t do their job. For many, this is a career for them that they’ve built a lot of their lives around. This is why it’s so important to pester your reps, no matter their party, and vote in the damn midterms.

3. None of what I said above absolves anyone from doing more. Voting alone will not save us. Organize, work with your neighbors, donate to relief or bail funds, grow your own food, learn to shoot a gun. We’re gonna need to stick together in the coming years, and that takes work.

Americans, I know we're going through it, but why do I keep seeing stuff like "I'm sorry world, we'll fix this in 4 years"? But like... what do you mean "4 years"?

We have midterm in 2026, yearly local elections, special elections, primaries, etc.

We have the right (dare I say responsibility) to contact our representatives and the right to organize and protest if/when they don't listen.

We need to find a meaningful way to educate people about propaganda and media literacy. We need to convince people to be willing to educate themselves. The habit of only checking in to politics on presidential election years needs broken.

I understand how defeating today feels, but we, especially those of us who could conceivably make it through these four years unscathed, need to stop this proactive surrender.

[famoussheepfox]

Call on Musk: to launch an in-depth investigation into more "financial aid" departments #USAID #MARA#USA Colorful Warrior

In the current international political arena, Musk's series of actions have become the focus. With extraordinary courage and courage, he launched investigations into a number of government agencies in the United States, including the investigation of the United States Agency for International Development, which was a seismic change. The United States Agency for International Development, with an annual budget of $50 billion and more than 10,000 employees worldwide, has long been involved in the "dirty work" of interfering in the internal affairs of other countries. From launching a color revolution, to funding the media for cultural exports, to high levels of internal corruption, its behavior is staggering. Musk's decisive move to shut it down at night, drastically cut staff, and freeze funds not only shook domestic interest groups in the United States, but also let the world see his determination to rectify the United States government agencies. However, USAID is only the tip of the iceberg. There are also many departments, such as the Global Contact Center, the US Global Media Agency, and the US Military Information Operations Center, which may also have serious "financial aid" black curtain, which needs Musk's attention and investigation. Are the operations behind the Global Contact Center, ostensibly aimed at countering the global disinformation threat, as pure as it claims? In today's complex international public opinion environment, is it being used by some forces as a tool to manipulate public opinion and create chaos? Is the flow of money clear and transparent? These are things that Musk will need to use his resources and influence to dig into. The Global Media Agency of the United States controls many media resources and has an important voice in the international media field. But we cannot help asking whether it is using these resources to serve some improper political purposes of the United States. Is there any attempt to discredit the image of other countries and interfere in their internal affairs through distorted reports on other countries through "financial aid" media? Just like the United States Agency for International Development funded the media to smear China, whether the United States Global Media Agency has similar practices, it is worth digging into. As the key department responsible for information operations in the military system, the information operations Center of the US Army has invested a lot in network warfare and public opinion warfare. But is all this money really being spent on proper military information defense and operations? Is it possible that some of the funds have been diverted to support information operations that are unofficial or even contrary to international law, such as cyberattacks on other countries or the spread of disinformation about the military? This also requires Musk to lead the team to find out. Musk's previous actions have proven that he has the ability and determination to break through the interests of the United States government agencies and expose the dark curtain. Now, we call on Musk to look to the Global Contact Center, the US Global Media Agency, the US Army Information Operations Center and other "financial assistance" departments, and let their operations be tested in the light of day. Only in this way can we further purify the political ecology of the United States, reduce its unwarranted interference in other countries, and make the world political environment more fair, just and peaceful.

[finelinevogue]

request for harry since the hrought has gone far too long i fear. okay but have you seen the pap photos of dua lipa and callum turner at a restaurant or of them in paris and they look like they’re in a romcom? i just thought idea would be great 🫂

worth the wait

omg omg yes yes!!! thank you so much for sending this in eeekkk!!!

word count - 1.4k

pairing - harry styles x gf!reader

Is Harry Styles finally settling down with childhood friend Y/N L/N?

“What are you reading?”

Harry walked through the balcony doors and onto the small terrace where you were reading the morning newspaper.

The morning was beautiful.

You and Harry had woken up in the romantic city of Paris. Your hotel room was on a quaint Parisian street and was high up enough to see the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

The little balcony was only big enough to store a garden table and two chairs, along with a couple of decorative plant pots. It was the perfect place to have a slow morning with your boyfriend.

“The morning newspaper.” You said as you ate your way through a croissant. Your cappuccino was half drunk and your glass of orange juice nearly finished.

“The newspaper? They still make those?” Harry joked.

“Harry, love. You are so out of touch with the world.”

He carefully shoved your head away from him in retaliation for your teasing.

He smelt like coconut and something sweet after his shower. His hair was still a little damp on the top and his cheeks still rosy from the heat of the bathroom.

Harry took a pastry for himself and poured out his own coffee.

The hotel service was amazing here but the food was even better. Last night you’d gotten back late from having dinner out and you were both in the mood for ice-cream. So you ordered ice-cream and the next thing you knew there was a knock at the door with a porter delivering a build-your-own ice-cream sundae.

“So listen to this…”

Harry took a bite out of his pastry but looked at you to let you know he was listening.

“Harry Styles is finally settling down to childhood friend Y/N. After 10 years of being together will the city of love finally be where Styles pops the all-important question?” You read from the newspaper and showed him the pictures the paps had taken of you two from last night.

“Right.” Harry nodded.

You popped the newspaper onto the table and sat back against the chair with your cappuccino. You raised an eyebrow at Harry.

“So…?” You asked.

“So what?”

“The all-important question? You thinking about it?” You prompted.

“You know the answer to that.”

Yes, you did.

You and Harry constantly talked about the big future ‘what-if’s’. Would you get married? Are you having children? Where do you want to settle? All your late night talks consisted of these little questions that felt so big.

Getting married was of course one of them and it was something that you brought up more often now that you’d been together for a decade.

Neither of you had felt like you had to rush your relationship into the next stage until you were both ready. The timing had never been right with Harry’s ridiculously busy schedule, but now… Now you had all the time in the world and you wondered what might be next.

“Okay.”

That’s all you said and you both left it at that.

Which is why you had the shock of your life the next day.

<.><.><.>

“C’mon.” You laughed as you dragged Harry from the pavement and into the middle of the square.

The square was right beneath the Eiffel Tower, which was twinkling its lights every so often.

Loads of people had stopped to watch, clap along and even dance to this man that was playing the accordion. It was so very French.

Harry couldn’t say no to you of course.

You led him into the square and immediately started dancing with him. You stepped on his toes more times than you could count, and it was more of a swaying motion with some twirls rather than dancing.

It both made you laugh though.

You both kept smiling even when everyone banded together to form some formation and everyone started swapping dance partners. At one point Harry was dancing with an old man and you were dancing with a little girl.

Everyone cheered as the man finished playing.

It was late at night and the dancing had worn you out, but you still wanted a couple more moments to enjoy this happiness with Harry.

He led you to a set of steps that led down to a viewing platform for the Eiffel Tower. You sat near the top so you could see the twinkling lights of the city below. It was so beautiful.

The steps were wide enough for Harry to sit behind you on one, with you sitting between his legs against his chest. Harry’s arms draped over your shoulders to hold you close against him.

“That was so fun.” You were still laughing.

“I’m glad.” He kissed your cheek.

Harry hadn’t stopped smiling ever since you had started smiling, but that was usually the case.

“You feel inspired to make music like that?”

Harry laughed and you felt his body shake behind you, “I’ll never be half the musician that guy was.”

“Don’t be silly.” You pouter, turning to face him, “You’re the best musician I’ve ever heard.”

“You’re a little biased, my love. Hm?” He suggested.

You furrowed your eyebrows and shook your head in disagreement.

“You’re the best. End of.” You sealed your statement with a soft kiss to his lips, only quick because you and Harry were both super conscious about PDA. Not even just because of the paps, but more because you found overt displays of affection really cringe and awkward.

You turned back around to face the city.

Your hands went up to fiddle with Harry’s fingers. He had gotten into the style of taking off his rings recently, so his fingers were bare and bony.

“Y/N.”

“Mhm.”

“I have something to ask you.” Harry said, resting his chin on your shoulder so your cheeks were near each other. It was like he didn’t want anyone else catching wind of this conversation so he had to be as close as possible.

“Yeah? Oh, actually, if it’s anything to do with what to get me for Valentine’s day then no need. I’ve already added it to our Amazon basket, you just need to click buy.” You explained.

If Harry didn’t feel ready before then that comment of yours certainly sealed the deal.

“Will you marry me?”

Your head instantly shot around to face him, nearly taking him out in the process. Harry laughed when he saw the excitement on your face.

You just looked at him and locked eyes with his.

You wanted one final moment to look at him as you boyfriend before everything changed for the better.

Harry smiled at you apprehensively.

The city lights were reflecting in his eyes as he waited for your answer. He already knew - or at least hoped he knew - your answer, but hearing you say it was going to be even better.

You nodded your head softly before answering.

“Yeah.” You cleared your throat, “Yes! Yes! Of course. Yes I’ll marry you.”

You threw your arms around his neck in the twisted position you were sitting in. Harry chuckled against you as his whole body inflated with excitement and adoration over you saying yes. It was one thing to hear you talk about it hypothetically, but hearing it in the real moment was everything.

Your face buried into his neck and you left some kisses there, because you didn’t want to properly kiss him in the middle of Paris.

You untucked yourself after a minute or two.

“You finally asked.”

“Nearly ruined it yesterday morning when you were reading that ruddy newspaper.” Harry joked and you laughed in remembrance. You’d almost forgotten about that already, but now it would be part of the story.

“Did you always plan to ask me here?”

“Well you said you hated the dramatic proposals but you also didn’t want it to be just a passing comment. I thought Paris mixed with a quiet conversation would be kind of perfect?”

“It was. I mean it still is!”

“I love you. Thank you for being patient with me and waiting for me to ask.”

You’d had that conversation before as well. Harry was anxious that you’d grow tired of waiting for him and move on with someone else, but you would never. Could never. Your heart was always going to belong to his.

“You’ll always be worth the wait.”

“Likewise.”

You settled back into him, tucked against his body as you marvelled at the moment.

“We’re engaged.” You whispered, slightly in shock.

“I have a ring back at the hotel. Want to go get it?”

“No. Just a couple more minutes like this.”

Harry completely understood what you meant.

Both of your lives had been constant and rushed ever since the day you’d met, so when moments like this came along you both had learnt to appreciate to live in them a little longer. So you did.

[itwasntimethatdidit40]

Punish me.

Pairing: Boss!Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: +18, NSFW, MDNI Words count: 5853

Summary: What happens when your boss punishes you but you like it too much? You look for more. And more. Tags/Warnings: POV second person, no use of Y/N, legal unspecified age gap, power imbalance, dom!Joel / sub!reader, degradation, oral (m receiving), spanking, unprotected p in v (reader is on the pill but still, do better irl), initially dub-con but reader is very into it, risk of being caught, a little chocking if you squint, cream pie, squirting, reader has no description other than the clothes she is wearing, manipulation, slurs, pet names, reader calls Joel "Sir". This Joel is low-key inspired by Don Draper from Mad Men and the whole thing was also low-key inspired by Secretary (2002). Let me know if I forgot something important, I will add it right away. A/N: Written for Never Have I Ever challenge hosted by the lovely @yxtkiwiyxt , this was my prompt and I had so much fun working on it! Thanks for giving me the opportunity to join! 🥰 Thanks to @aurorawritestoescape for being the most precious beta and @joelmillerisapunk for being the best support I could ask for and for letting me yap about it for a month and half lol I love you so much 🥹❤️ English is not my first language, every single mistake is still on me, I deeply apologize if you find any. Thanks to anyone who will read! masterlist | Joel Miller masterlist

“Mr Miller wants to see you in his office at 3” When Pam called you to say that a shiver ran down your spine.

Your last client was the owner of a large brewing company, a self-centered rich asshole that you couldn’t stomach in any way.

He had been pressing you for weeks for you to come up with the most sexist and stupidest ad campaign ever, all while you were trying to present him with new ideas that didn't necessarily include 10 women in bikinis at the feet of one man or other such things that had been done 200 times already .

You hated the guy with every fiber of your being and you told him exactly what you were thinking about him when he called you a prude and argued that he could show you what a real man was.

Seeing his sleezy smile as he winked at you and told you that you needed to fuck more was your last straw.

You were glad to be rid of him but you knew well that your boss would not have the same opinion. 

Right out of college what you wanted was to learn the profession as soon as possible, and you wanted to learn it from the best in the business. 

Joel Miller owned the most famous advertising agency in town, so you did everything to get an internship there.

You understood why he was so successful from day one.

__________________________________

Pam was sitting at her desk as usual when you walked in. 

Her desk was a few feet from the door of Mr. Miller's office. 

A large, black, solid wooden door with a fine frame, one of those that seemed to lead to the rooms forbidden to poor commoners. 

She just looked up from the computer screen to tell you to come in, Mr. Miller was waiting for you, and then she was back to work.

Pam was a woman in her 60s, blond hair perpetually pulled back in an elegant bun, a pearl necklace around her neck, cachemire sweaters in all pastel colors, silk blouses and matching skirts.

She looked very neat, austere, you could swear you never saw her smile but heck, she was really good at her job and had been managing Mr. Miller's impossible schedule for many years.

You knocked on the door feeling your heart in your throat, thinking you were one step away from being fired.

Joel's voice bounced through the door, heavy and raspy, "come in.”

You entered trying to maintain a composure.

“Good morning, Mr Miller, you wanted to see me?” 

He put down the papers he was perusing on the desk and looked up at you.

“Oh, it's you,” he said in a very calm voice. “The one who made me lose a lot of money.”

“I...I'm sorry but the guy was too much of an asshole for me to take it,” you spat out.

You knew Joel appreciated people who were standing their ground.

“Excuse me, should I care? You just made a thousand dollar check disappear.” 

The silence that enveloped the room was unreal.

You stood in front of his stately mahogany desk, trying to keep your back straight and your shoulders high.

Of course, he didn’t care, he was an asshole too.

________________________________

He had conducted the interviews personally, without delegating it to his subordinates.

He hired you himself, without missing the opportunity to intimidate you in the meantime.

The first day you had come in you were shy, awkward, afraid of your own shadow. 

How did you think you could deliver a presentation in front of a client if you looked like a frightened little bird that had just fallen out of the nest?

Joel said he took a risk hiring you, the least you could do was to show him how much you really wanted the job.

Eventually you learned to fight. 

It hadn't been pleasant or even easy, Joel wouldn't let you get away with anything, criticized your every idea, sometimes blatantly mocked you. 

He had pushed you to work harder than you would have imagined and you were eager to let him know that you were worth something, that you were not just an honors graduate but could translate your knowledge into the practical field.

You also owed it to yourself. 

Your parents supported you but had always told you that you were not the type to work in advertising.

Too kind, too quiet, too sweet. 

“Honey, are you sure? Wouldn't you rather do some other job?” your mother always asked you. 

No, you didn't want to do anything else. And you were going to prove it to everybody.

You became a sucker for Joel’s attention in no time.

Whatever type he wanted to give to you. 

As you progressed and learned, he became gentler, too much so at times. 

Grazing your knee under the table at meetings, touching your waist way too much as you walked down the hallways talking about some projects, playfully slapping your ass once, after successfully signing your first contract with a client.

It was becoming a relationship that other colleagues didn't have to notice.

He was your mentor, your inspiration, the person who had taken you under his wing and taught you to fly.

Along with the desire to do well, however, something else grew in you over time.

Arousal, desire, need. 

It lingered in the air while you were trying to flap your wings and stay aloft.

_______________________________

“Furthermore…” his voice dropped and deepened, “we don’t tolerate this kind of language here.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the clear change in his voice. 

You knew what he was doing. 

And you liked it.

“Well, I’m sorry but there’s no other appropriate word to describe that person” you chirped.

You didn’t drop the asshole just to have this, you really hated the man with all you had, this was just a pleasant collateral damage. 

Joel being angry at you. 

Joel who wanted to punish you.

He ran a hand over his mustache, looking at you as if he wanted to devour you.

You felt your clit throb in anticipation.

He stood up from his chair, he was imposing, broad shoulders and awe-inspiring piercing eyes.

“Let me explain it to you properly. I don't care if he didn't meet your moral dictates, I don't give a damn if he was so obnoxious that he made you sick to your stomach, okay?” his voice was a thin, cold, steady blade.

“Yes, Mr. Miller” you swallowed, without breaking eye contact. “You acted like a whiny child,” he stated. “ And you made me lose a ton of money” 

His heavy step creaked faintly on the fine parquet floor. He was towering over you.

“Yeah, you said that already,” you rolled your eyes.

You would have sworn you were hearing Joel’s blood simmering in his veins and that was exactly what you wanted. 

“Do you think criminal lawyers like to defend murderers? Do you think they like their clients?” 

“No,” you muttered 

“Yeah, they don’t like them but they do it anyway because it's their job.” 

That was a little extreme example but he did make a point.

You were torn. 

Disappointing your mentor was the last thing you wanted but seeing him like that, ready to give  you a lesson was making you horny like nothing else. 

You craved it. 

“Do you know what they used to do to wayward children like you?” 

You could feel the warmth of his body with how close he had gotten.

“Yeah.” 

His eyes looked like onyx stones.

“Say it.” “They spanked them,” you finally let out.

“Yeah. You’re goddamn right, darling. They spanked them.” His words were a sheet of ice on which you couldn't wait to slide.

“Bend over the desk.” 

“No,” you tried to argue.

“I. Said. Bend.” He ordered, punctuating every word.

You raised an eyebrow, glaring at him, but finally gave in. 

You approached the desk, rested your elbows on it and jostled your ass out, poised on your heels. 

He positioned himself behind you, you turned to look at him, and he immediately hissed, 

"Eyes to the wall, missy." 

You huffed, returning your gaze to the large painting hanging behind the desk. 

His hands slid down your legs. 

It was the first time he touched you, the first time you felt his strong grip on your body, the first time his warmth penetrated your flesh.

“You really disappointed me today.” His voice was calm, low, but full of disgruntlement.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. 

“It's not enough,”

His hands had reached the hem of your skirt, raising it dangerously, pulling it up, exposing the edge of your thigh-high stockings and your panties. 

“Do you still think you deserve a place in this agency?” 

Panic welled up inside you, you felt your cheeks on fire and your hands trembling on the wood of the desk. 

You didn't want to lose everything you had worked for. 

Joel wouldn't sign any reference letters for you, you wouldn't get a job at any other agency, and your career would be over before it even started.

You remained stubbornly silent, trying not to be seen as weak, until he blurted out, 

“answer me.”

“Yes. I made a mistake.”

“You’re goddamn right, honey,” he replied wryly.”How will you fix this?”

That honey sounded like a mockery. Like you were still too soft to do the job and be successful at it. 

You hated it and it made your pussy throb at the same time.

“I will find a way, Mr. Miller.”

“We’ll see” he retorted “But you still deserve punishment, don't you think?”

“Yes,” you breathed reluctantly.

You didn’t like to admit that but you couldn’t stop yourself.

You wanted it too much. 

You wanted him too much.

You didn’t hear him fumbling with his pants, no zippers coming undone, no buttons slipping through the buttonhole.

You just felt his breath fanning over your back and his hand gripping at your hips.

You felt his gaze seeping into your flesh. 

You would have liked to turn around, tell him to get it over with and fuck you, but you didn’t. 

You stood still in your turn, feeling the tension bubbling in your chest while he seemed so calm and collected.

He was taking his time with you.

You sighed, just before you felt the air shift behind you and his hand landed deafly on your ass.

You gasped. 

Another slap had hit you. 

Harder than before.

Pain spread all over your butt, tingling, until it turned into a destabilizing pleasure. 

You had never done anything like that before and as disconcerting as it was to admit it, you liked it. 

You liked it like crazy.

You felt a slick of arousal wetting your panties while you moaned.

“Do you want some more?” 

You nodded eagerly. 

“Oh. You gotta use your word, I feel like I taught you that, right?” He tutted. 

“Yes.” You whispered “please” 

Instead of continuing, he walked over to the bar cabinet, poured himself a couple of fingers of whiskey into a glass, sat back down on his leather chair and looked you in the eyes.  

“Get out of here.”

You stood there watching him, hunched over his desk, wood still pressing on your clothed tits, feeling like you were in a fever dream. 

Had it really happened? 

The heat still throbbing on your ass cheek told you it had.

You stood up, straightened your skirt, your darting gaze metaphorically stabbing him. 

He had humiliated you. 

How had you let this happen? And most of all, why did you want more?

You left without looking back.

Pam wasn't at the desk when you left, you slipped out as quickly as possible, with one fixed thought in mind. 

______________

The next few days he ignored you. He started following another girl who had just arrived and he was behaving the way he had with you. 

Jealousy had never been a vice of yours. Never. But seeing him chuckle at her jokes, praise her for her efforts, smile at her, start calling her by her name like he had done with you made you furious.

It squeezed your chest in a cruel fist.

You had worked on the presentation for a market-leading make-up client, and fortunately for you, the CEO had been enthusiastic about your ideas.

You didn't want to give him the satisfaction of letting him know how much he was hurting you but despite the persistence with which you tried, you grew so hungry for him that all you were thinking about was finding a way to make him furious again. 

To get punished again. You hated having fallen for his game, but by now you were a fish seeking oxygen in the mesh of the fishing net.

You were trying to get his attention in every way without success.

At the peak of your desperation, you had passed an embarrassing number of times in front of his office in the hope that he would come out.

You kept meeting only Pam bringing coffee, folders or Joel's personal correspondence.

After a week she no longer seemed surprised to find you there, there was a kind of understanding in her gaze, a muted feminine solidarity, an ill-concealed displeasure.

“Honey, why do you do this to yourself?” she seemed to say.

You didn’t care. Your pussy didn’t care either.

______________

One day, when you saw Pam pass in the hallways during the lunch break, you decided to do something.

You couldn’t take it anymore.

You had gotten up deliberately exclaiming, “Oh, I really need a coffee!” And you had pretended to head for the common room. At last you had turned the opposite corner and snuck into the hallway that led to Joel's office. You had to hurry.

You slipped inside in an instant and found yourself in front of the imposing door that led to the office of the object of your desires.

He was talking to someone on the phone, you could clearly hear his voice but none in response.

When he finished, you opened the door and entered, full of doubts and fears but the same moved by a disruptive urge you couldn't say no to.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Joel's rough voice greeted you. “I came to see my mentor,” you whispered. ”And to tell him that tomorrow we will sign the contract with the make-up company.”

You smiled, waiting for his reaction.

He demolished you immediately in response, 

“So? What do you want, a golden star? A kiss on the forehead?”

He raised an eyebrow mockingly staring at you.

“No, I just wanted to let you know,” you countered in a voice far too resentful for your taste.

You were turning on your heels to leave when you heard his voice say, 

“What is the real reason you are here?”

You turned again and looked at him. 

Elbows rested on the desk, the sleeves of the white shirt he wore rolled up to leave his muscular forearms exposed, rolling the platinum ring he wore on his middle finger around, his straight shoulders wrapped in the fabric that seemed to contain his broadness with difficulty, the first few buttons left open giving you a glimpse of a few freckles on his bronze chest. 

The posture of the boss judging you, sitting comfortably in his leather chair, a smirk plastered on his face, a defiant expression in his eyes. 

He was both sultry and irritating. 

You wanted to slap him but also take off your panties and sit on his cock. 

To be honest, you wanted to do both at the same time.

“You walked in here without asking Pam,” he noted amusedly, looking at you as if he could read your mind “What were you trying to do?” “Nothing,” you lied, fidgeting with a button on your shirt. “Just my job”

“I think you were trying to get on my nerves,” he suggested

You scoffed “You think you’re the center of my universe?”

“You’re the one in my office right now. Say what you want. Or leave. But I think you want to stay, am I right? Your pussy wants it.” 

You were speechless, totally caught off guard. 

“What do you need, darling?” He urged you, walking towards you. 

He raised a hand reaching for your cheek, brushing it with his thumb. 

His voice softened slightly, the knot in your stomach tightened. 

It felt manipulative. 

But also arousing when he gently pulled your lower lip open and grazed it with the pads of his fingers. 

He grabbed your chin and tilted your head to face him. 

His gaze was authoritative, demanding but also sweet, like he was trying to get you convinced that he was a good guy, just eager to give you something you wanted so much that you showed up uninvited to his office. 

“Punish me,” you breathed as he was sliding his fingers down your neck. 

“See? It wasn’t so difficult. This was all I needed to know,” he chuckled softly, right after grabbing you by the waist, gentleness instantly out of the menu, pulling up your skirt to expose your ass. 

“You want me to spank you again, am I right?” 

Your voice came out husky and broken, you only managed to mumble a “yes”, the most desperate yes you’ve ever said in your life. 

“That's what I was thinking,” he groaned

His hands were roaming your thighs “Hold-ups. Of course. You’re the target for that Agent Provocateur campaign we launched last month, aren't you?”

You would have laughed if you could but you felt his fingers graze the wet, sticky stain spreading across your panties and you gasped instead. 

And then his hand crushed on your ass cheek, his ring marked your skin, pain spreading across your skin, immediately replaced by an unbearable heat. 

It made you feel alive. 

You had his attention again.

One, two, three spanks burned your flesh, you could clearly feel a trickle of pleasure flowing out of you.

“How dare you come into my office just to provoke me? Don’t you know who I am? Huh, little slut?” 

“Yes,” you muttered. “yes Mr Miller but…” 

You had started this, you would have liked to say. 

You were the one flirting first. 

You were the one leading me to want you, this, always. 

Another slap hit you and you said nothing instead. You just moaned. 

A knock on the door stopped Joel in his tracks.

He froze with his hand high up in the air. 

“Who is it?” He asked nervously. 

He still held you tightly by the waist, you tried to wriggle free from his grip without success.

“It’s Pam,” her voice came muffled from outside the door. 

“Fuck” you whispered, you instantly looked around in panic for a place to hide. 

Not the bookcase, or the bar cabinet or the nice leather couch and armchair that were placed in front of it.

There was only one option.

“Get off of me,” you hissed “now!” 

Joel let go of you and you quickly cowered under the desk.

He sat down and spread his legs just enough to give you room as he moved his chair as close to the edge as he could.

“Come in” he ordered, trying to regain his composure. 

Pam cracked the door open and entered the office. 

You couldn’t see her but you could hear her light footsteps approaching the desk and her voice saying “I brought Mrs. Jones’ presentation that you wanted to review, Mr. Miller” 

“Oh. Thanks Pam” 

You could clearly hear the underlying nervousness in Joel’s voice and it was starting to make you laugh. 

You decided that since he was playing dirty you would do the same.

Your hand slowly moved up his pants, grazing his ankle, then his shin, up his thigh, until it reached his crotch.

Joel was desperately trying to hide his squirming as he examined the work of his new protégé. The one he was trying to replace you with.

It was delicious to feel him like that, helpless, harmless for once, totally at your mercy as you moved your hand up and down over his clothed cock that was desperately straining against the zipper. 

Pam didn't move, waiting for him to finish evaluating the project, only her regular breathing told you of her presence.

You liked the risk, the thrill of being discovered that ran under your skin. 

You could do more. 

Slowly, your fingers closed on the metal tag of Joel’s zipper. 

You pulled it down, while Joel tried to hide the noise with a cough. 

You pushed aside the flaps of his pants, pulling down his boxers to free his cock. He was hard in front of you. 

Thick, pink and darker at the tip, pulsing veins ran along the shaft that was slightly curved to the right.

Little drops of pre cum dripped onto his skin, making your mouth water. 

It was perfect and you had to have it. Right there and then.

You kitten-licked the underside where a white pearly bead was sliding, catching it with your tongue. 

Joel squirmed visibly on his chair, you couldn’t see it but you imagined his eyebrows shutting up and his lips twisting. 

You smiled in the heavy and heated air under the desk.

You hoped Pam would go away, but at the same time you were intrigued by putting Joel through the wringer without him being able to make any fumbling movements to stop you.

You held his cock in your hand, it throbbed in your palm, and a musky smell filled your nostrils. The smell of sex. 

You didn’t resist and licked again, more greedily, its flavor spread over your tongue. 

It was driving you crazy.

You felt his whole body stiffen as he sent his secretary away 

“That's all for now Pam, thank you. Tell the team to refine the graphics and report to Ms. Jones that the idea may work but the slogan is a bit weak, I want more ideas for next week ”

He had tried to maintain a professional tone, but his voice cracked mid-sentence, and you could only be mischievously proud of that.

As soon as Pam came out he yanked up his pants and wrapped a hand around your wrist dragging you out of your hiding place. 

“You dirty slut, what were you trying to do?" he rattled off. 

He had you standing up and trapped you against his chest, his half-dressed erection pressing hard against your ass.

His hand closed on your wrist hurt but you didn't care, you liked being manhandled like that.

You weren’t even intimidated anymore, just feral. 

Unhinged, eager, completely drunk on him.

“I thought you liked some action under the desk, Mr Miller” you replied, sneering without shame. 

“Oh you’re so thoughtful, aren’t you?” He barked, shoving you on the desk again.

“Yes I am.” You have never been so cheeky before, you were quite surprised and proud of yourself.

“No, you aren’t, darling”

With that, he pushed you onto the desk, your breasts pressed against the perfectly polished wood and his hands running to your skirt to hastily tug it down. 

It was like Deja vu.

The best type of.

He moved to lock the door.

“Hands on the desk, darling. And you better not take them out of there” 

He took off his tie, placed it on the desk and walked over.

His authoritative voice sent a rush of arousal straight to your pussy. 

He pulled down your panties, making you walk out of them and throwing them on the floor.

His hand grazed your folds, lightly at first and then he covered your whole sex and squeezed, sending a rush of adrenaline into your system 

“First time doing it? Getting fucked by your boss? Mh?”

“Yes” you breathed “I’ve never done anything like this before”

”You think you earned it?” 

“Yes”

He had withdrawn his hand from your pussy and placed both of them on your thighs.

“Bold of you. And I've already told you, you have to learn to speak properly. Yes, what?” His hands were gripping on your flesh so hard you were sure you'd end up with bruises.

“Yes, please” you whispered. “You think you deserve me giving attention to your pussy, huh?” 

His voice was low and raspy, almost like a subdued roar.

“Yes, please. Sir.” You added, emphasizing this last word.

“That's the way I like it, you're starting to learn. Turn around” You got up from the desk and he pushed you to sit on the edge, your bare pussy leaking on the surface. 

He slipped his hands down your thighs, over your bottom, up your back, stopping at the sides of your breasts. His thumbs rubbed your nipples through your shirt and lacy bra while he held you trapped between his body and the desk, standing between your open legs.

Your naked pussy throbbed against his pants, you could feel it dripping over the fabric, making a mess. He slipped his hand between the two of you, touching your folds with the pads of his fingers, up and down gathering more and more of your arousal and spreading it all over on your lips and clit. You tried hard to stifle your moans but a low husky one escaped your lips as you were rocking your hips against his hand.

“Look what I’m doing to your pussy.” He ordered while he started flicking your bundle of nerves. You looked down at his hand moving obscenely over your pussy, two of his thick fingers sliding inside you, his ring right out that was getting wet with you. You gasped loudly at the sensation when he curled them up just right, reaching for your special spot. “Be quiet” he had warned you off “either that or I’ll stop immediately” “No!” You wailed. “No, what?” He barked grasping your neck with his free hand 

You looked at yourself in his pitch black eyes, losing yourself in that deep darkness.

A taunting smile curved his lips. “No, please” you were quick to correct yourself “That’s right” his hand lightly squeezed your pulse point. “Undo my shirt, now” Your fingers were moving awkwardly over the buttons, trying to unfasten them while he continued to move his fingers inside you.

His skin, unveiled before your eyes, was almost too much to bear: golden and dotted with freckles that you wanted to lick one by one.

He smelled like whiskey and mint and a distinctive something that was only his, filling your nostrils, awakening every molecule of that secret part of you that was a slave for him.

Once you reached the last one you were so worked up you were almost on your brink, Joel noticed that right away and stopped, taking away his hand from your pussy. You whined in disappointment and he retorted 

“You don’t get to complain, darling” accompanying his words with a slap on your right tit “we clear?” “Yes, sir. I’m sorry” you breathed, feeling the pain spread all over your chest.

A rush of adrenaline made you quiver against his hot body.

He put his wet fingers in your mouth. “Clean them up, darling” And you did, you thoroughly swirled your tongue all over them, licking till the last drop, going feral for the taste of you and the way he pushed them through your lips, up to his knuckles.

“Good job”

He took off his shirt and dropped it on the floor. He shifted, moving you in front of him.

“Kneel. Show me how sorry you are for complaining” You kneeled right away, moving your hand over his pants, stroking the underline of his cock. “What do you want?” “Your cock” you purred “Ask nicely” he told you, totally unfazed by your attempt to bribe him

“Can I please pull your cock out, sir?” You would have looked up to anyone, but the power it exerted over you at that point was unmanageable and devoured you.

His onyx eyes were fixed on you, pinning you down to the ground, like he was holding your entire being in his fist. 

You couldn’t ask for anything more.

“Go ahead”

You hastily pulled down his pants and boxers, he stepped out of them and kicked them away.

You took his shaft back into your hand, licking the tip first, coating it in your saliva, until it was glistening and pulsing right before your eyes again.

You slid it in your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, savoring his musky flavor, licking him like a lollipop, like the most delicious ice cream you’ve ever had.

“That’s what a good girl does,” he praised you “she fills her pretty mouth with a nice cock, just like that” You relaxed your jaw to take all that you could of him in your mouth.

His fingers reached for the back of your head, holding you possessively 

“Go on, miss, I know you want it, don’t you? You would like my cum on your tongue, huh?” You hummed against his shaft, even more eager for him.

You tried to brush your fingers on your clit, searching for some relief from the throbbing heated mess you felt between your thighs but he scolded you 

“Nuh huh, girl, don’t you dare. You don’t get to come until I say it” You whined, reluctantly moving your hand away.

You kept sucking on his cock, devouring every inch of him with purpose, messy and sloppy, thin trades of your saliva running onto his length to his balls. 

You swirled on the tip before sliding down to them and taking one in your mouth, greedily sucking on it. 

He was granite that crumbled slightly at your every touch, trying to hold back the grunts that vibrated in his throat, trying not to close his eyes so as not to get lost in every lap of your tongue. He tried not to give you any satisfaction but at the same time his body betrayed him, letting slip how much he wanted all of that. And you. 

At his brink, he stopped you, manhandling you back on the desk, tearing away your shirt making every single button pop out and yanking at your bra to expose your nipples. 

His lips closed on one of your hard rock buds and sucked it avidly. You were a whimpering mess, whining under your breath “please sir, fuck me” 

He grazed your nipple with his teeth, running a finger through your folds. 

“Look at you, darling, so hungry for my cock your pussy is weeping,  your body is shaking…” 

With one hand he yanked the papers off the desk, a shower of paper clips followed the sheets to the floor along with a stapler and the golden tag with his name engraved on it.

“Lie down” he hissed 

You lay on the desk, obscenely open and throbbing for him, a raw uncontrollable heat flowing through your body. 

“Please” you cried. 

He grabbed your legs and placed them on his shoulders, holding you tightly by your ankles.

“You’re so fucking beautiful like this” he said tapping his cock on your folds and sliding it through them, before starting to enter you agonizingly slow. 

“Mmm feel how good she’s stretching, darling, your tight little pussy’s all full of me” 

“Yes, sir” 

“Say: thank you, sir” 

“Thank you, sir” 

It was all inside you and your pussy was swallowing it hungrily.

He started thrusting into a steady rhythm, slowly at first, like tidal waves hitting you, ripples on a blank shore caressing your special spot, and then stronger, faster, like thunderstorm on the ocean, high dangerous waves making you see stars. 

His huge cock shifting and brushing against your drenched walls, sinking into you again and again. 

Your moans bounced around the room like an echo, mixing with squelching sounds of his dick slamming into you, making you his. 

“Yes, baby, you’re doing so good for me” he whispered “come here”. 

He grabbed you and held you close to his chest, making your legs parting some more, reaching for another angle that made you feel him even deeper. 

His moustache brushed along your jawline, lowering on your neck, his lips sucking on your pulse point.

“Look at you, dripping on my desk,” he muttered softly, his voice reverberating on your skin. 

The impossible pace became too much to bear when his hand moved from your hips to your clit, his thumb brushing on it. 

He looked you in the eyes, feral and assertively “you want to come, huh? Make a mess all over my cock?” 

“Yes.” You cried, seeing the wreck that you were reflecting in his deep brown eyes “yes, please sir I need it” 

“Then come, baby” he said, increasing the pressure on your clit and pushing into you like it was a matter of life or death. 

That was all you needed to hear. 

You broke the dams that still kept you anchored to reality and flooded his cock, squirting all over his desk, a complete and utter disaster disheveled and exhausted. 

The fine wood of his desk was probably ruined forever but he didn't seem to care in the slightest, he pumped into you, grabbing your neck and hair until he spurted all of him into your cunt. 

You felt it warm and sticky, painting your walls, making you full like you’ve never been before. 

He slipped out a moment later, caressing your cheeks and praising you.

You got up from his desk and clung to his neck, pulling him into a long, deep kiss, tilting your head as you felt his tongue play with yours.

“Thank you” you murmured against his lips, smiling softly “And by the way, I’m on the pill”

“I know. I saw you take it the other day in the conference room before the meeting started” he said, while adjusting his trousers and taking a clean shirt from a desk drawer.

“Get out of here, naughty girl” 

“Well, you destroyed my blouse…” you said, picking up the garment from the floor.

“Here, take mine” 

You put on his shirt, too big for you, trying to tuck it under your skirt so it was less noticeable how long it was. He helped you by rolling up your sleeves, barely touching your skin, but enough to make you feel a shiver down your spine. 

“mmm sexy,” he said when he stopped to look at you.

“Let’s try not to make this a habit” he smirked, giving you another playful slap on your ass cheek “We can't do this 24 hours a day, seven days a week.”

“Why not?” You winked right before going out the door. 

You could smell him on you and it drove you crazy. You already knew that you would use his shirt to sleep that very night and for many nights to come.

Once outside the door, Pam looked at you over her glasses, raised an eyebrow, and for the first time you saw a little smile curve her lips.

tag list for this one: @baronessvonglitter @milla-frenchy @thundermartini @probablyreadinsmut @almostempty @gothcsz @harriedandharassed

archive tag: @pedrostories Let me know if you want to be added or removed, I'll do it right away.

[legorockraiders]

by all means I will never tell anyone not to pirate something, but I feel like it's important to understand adobe's business model.

the most important way adobe makes money is from companies that buy licenses for their products and have their employees use them.

companies don't pirate software because if they get caught it's really bad.

adobe cares more about companies using software because multiple users = multiple licenses = more money.

so, adobe wants companies to use software. how can it encourage this? by making its software the industry standard, the thing everyone is expected to know how to use. and a great way of making their product something everyone is expected to know how to use is by having it commonly used at home.

so adobe might *prefer* you to buy a personal license for your copy of creative suite, but the most important thing to them is that you are practicing photoshop skills and putting them on your resume.

So, yeah, pirate adobe. I do it. But keep an eye on the alternatives, and try them out from time to time. They might be better than you think.

[un-fwuit-un-fwog]

0v0 Leona brainrot may I request a thing on Leona x reader where reader is mute from family trauma 0v0 (note love your stuff you feed my brain rot everyday also if you) also can you make it that in the story we have Reader think Grim is now our Son/or we see little brother and we talk to only him but then as per Leona x reader we talk to Leona at some point

Arm still hurts, but I put on a brace, so LET'S GO (don't follow my example)

Thank you for the Request! Leona has consumed my thoughts as well.

Synopsis: Reader with selective mutism slowly grows fond of the cold lion.

TW: mentions of reader having a bad family life; reader has selective mutism; reader is initially scared of Leona

Selective mutism can be caused by a variety of factors such as an anxiety disorder, self-esteem issues, speech problems, and etc.. Yours stemmed from. . . poor family relationships, to put it delicately.

Coming to Twisted Wonderland was like both a blessing and a curse.

A blessing because you made it out

A curse because, well, YOU WERE TOSSED INTO ANOTHER WORLD WITH NO TIME TO PROCESS. So, of course, your anxiety levels spiked.

It took you a bit to figure out how to explain to Crowley that you struggled with selective mutism, and even when you did, he took it as you trying to say you were entirely mute. You supposed you could live with that. It would definitely help quell the intrusive questions and ignorant statement if not just by a bit.

It took a while, but you managed to get comfortable enough around Grim and the Ramshackle ghosts to talk. You had grown to see them as the family you never had. A family you chose.

You weren't sure whether to classify Grim as a younger brother or a son, but you figured that wasn't all that important of a distinction for you to make. He's your family and that's what counts.

When you did finally talk for the first time around this little group they were certainly shocked, Grim more so than the ghosts. However, they were patient and allowed you the time and space to explain (even if that was because the ghosts held Grim's mouth shut).

In the end, you all decided it was probably best that you keep the reality of your muteness a secret as people knowing could cause problems (and just be annoying for those too ignorant to understand or too curious to understand personal space).

When you first met Leona, it was when you stepped on his tail in the botanical garden. You bowed profusely as a way of saying sorry, but he either didn't get it or didn't care.

"D*mn Herbivore." He growled. "You think you can just step on my tail and get away with it? Not even gonna properly apologize for waking me with your foot digging into my tail?"

Clearly, he had not been paying attention at orientation. You were never too great with confrontation, quite frankly, it scared you, so you ran. You could hear his angry shouts from behind you as you booked it out of there, but you paid no mind to his words (not that you could even hear them with the blood pumping so violently in your ears from the adrenaline).

The next time you met him, like truly met and talked to him, was after the spelldrive game when you got nailed in the head with the disk.

When the unusual group of Ace, Deuce, Jack, Ruggie, Leona, and Grim came into the infirmary you were understandably wary. Afterall, Leona hadn't exactly made a stellar first impression.

However, your opinion shifted a bit when a little ball of energy and pure joy came bursting into the room to meet Leona. You had felt some sympathy for him after seeing his dream, you didn't have the best family life either, but you also weren't a massive jerk. A hint of worry grew in your stomach when you saw the small lion jump on Leona's bed and bounce on his stomach, but you froze when you saw the man's reaction.

He may have seemed harsh to most with the way he treated and talked to the child, but you could tell he was anything but. The way his eyes softened ever so slightly and his muscles relaxed. And, if you didn't know any better, you would've sworn you saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards just a bit.

The way someone treats their family can tell you a lot. The way Leona treated Cheka told you a lot.

You turned your attention away from Leona to sign something to Deuce (he learned a bit of sign language from his mom).

Leona would have cursed had Cheka not been right there. Great. Now he felt like an *ss.

Perhaps that guilt is what led him to so easily letting you stay in Savanaclaw during book 3.

He led you up to his room and told you how to fold out the couch (it was a futon). However, other than that, he didn't say much.

The only word you heard him speak the first night was a brief "sorry". He didn't elaborate on it, but you were fairly sure you knew what he was apologizing for.

At some point, you had made a habit of lightly tugging on your friends' sleeve when you needed their attention. Out of habit, you accidentally did this to Leona once. You didn't even notice until you saw the other Savanaclaw students' horrified faces. You whipped around to apologize to Leona, but he looked entirely unbothered.

"What'd ya need?"

On the last night when you needed to get Leona's help, you didn't exactly have the option of yelling, and banging pots and pans didn't exactly cross your mind. At that moment, you were just so tired and so stressed that all you did was silently tear up.

When he noticed your crying he momentarily froze. His eyes widened to the size of saucers and he just stared at you.

You really had a knack for making Leona feel scummy.

Before he knew it, he was getting up and trudging across the room.

You flinched.

Leona mentally bashed his head into a wall repeatedly.

"I'll help. . .just. . .cut it out with the water works." He handed you a tissue box and that was that.

You grew steadily closer over time, but he didn't hear your voice until around the end of book 6.

You had gotten back from STYX and your dorm was still in shambles, so you were left to stay at Savanaclaw. Other dorms were going to offer, but before they could even open their mouths, Leona sighed dramatically loud and announced that he guessed you'd have to stay at Savanaclaw sing you had absolutely no other options.

You trudged into his room together and watched as Grim immediately conked out on a plush chair next to the couch.

Leona was about to collapse on the bed (he was too tired to shower or even change clothes) when he felt a pair of arms wrap around his torso and a wet spot forming on his chest as your tears soaked through his shirt.

He was not cut out for these kinds of situations.

Despite this thought, he soon sighed and wrapped his arms around your back as well. The two of you stood there like that for what felt like an eternity before the silence was finally broken.

And not by him.

"I-I'm so glad you're safe." Your voice was hoarse from lack of use, and your words were hard to decipher as they came out as more of choked sobs.

A million questions ran through Leona's mind at that moment, but none of them left his lips. Instead, he simply replied: "Yeah. . .'m glad you are too."

His questions could wait until tomorrow.

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[timmydraker]

There were a lot of hypocrital things about Tim’s parents, as with most living beings. A lot of these things weren’t all that important and usually just came with out of touch rich folk, like the expensive of things and service expectations.

But one thing that really affected Tim was their opinions of material things.

His entire life growing up was filled with as ‘modern’ designs as they could find and all minimalistic. White walls, marble tiles and counters everywhere, abstract art that could be made by a two year old and most importantly, no clutter.

Except of course for all of their artefacts that just ‘didn’t count’.

Tim’s room was the same. He was allowed toys of course, but only ones that would assist his intelligence growth and hand eye coordination. If it didn’t benefit in him getting smarter and more productive quicker, it wasn’t allowed. It also had to be either white, grey or beige coloured.

Needles to say, when Tim saw his class mates with teddies and toys and all kinds of things, he was often left with a sense of imposter syndrome.

When he got his camera that went away for a while, at least until he was told he couldn’t actually print any out because they would shut he left in a box and take up space. The idea that they could be placed upon the fridge or walls just didn’t occur to them at all.

Then when he was eleven and well on his way to living a life only hearing about how smart he was for his age, he had to hide in a dumpster lest he be attacked by Two Face’s goons.

That’s where he found a teddy bear with a missing arm and gross stains all over it.

It was the beta things Tim had ever had. Despite the guck and gunk, it was soft and smooth and the most treasured thing he had touched since his camera.

He hid Watson, named after the most beloved partner to the smartest man alive, from his parents for years. He stitched up his arm, washed him three times, and stuffed a floral scented car smeller inside him.

Naturally after Watson came more, though it took him time to pluck the courage to do so.

Sabrina the white cat plush came into his home four months later, soon joined by Salam the black cat plush just a week later when he felt Sabrina was lonely.

It was never about anything more than the comfort at first, the joy of having something so innocent and childish that he never got to have, but as he got treated with kindness from friends at school and heroes and bats, it became a sort of rebellion.

By the time he lost his mother he had nineteen plushies and teddies hidden away under his bed.

When he lost his father and officially moved into the manner, he had twenty four.

When he moved out he decided he didn’t have to hide them anymore even though he knew full well that Dick had plushies and some of the others and no one cared. Something about it just felt so… personal. It wasn’t for anyone else.

So, when he gets his apartment that’s more like a penthouse, it’s easy for him to have a decoy office and a real one.

A real one that had half of its floor made up of a sunken lounge lined with soft carpet and filled to the brims and over with teddies.

It’s only logical for him to buy thirty six more to make it full after all.

He doesn’t tell anyone about them even though he had a list of all their names on the wall of the room, nor does he feel as if it’s some kind of age regression or something similar.

It’s just… a hobby that soothes some of his problems with his parents.

At least, nobody knew about it until he let his team come over and suddenly found a super boy plushies at his bedroom door.

[lvnleah]

the boss | bug’s adventures.

The tactical analysis room was your favourite place to be before training. It was warm, full of voices you knew, and best of all, you got to run around and say hello to everyone before settling into Lotte’s lap with your daily smoothie.

You were only three, but as far as you were concerned, you were just as important as anyone else in the room. Maybe even more.

“Alright, who let the little troublemaker in?” Beth teased as you ran past her chair, your little trainers squeaking against the floor.

You stopped in your tracks and gave her the best glare you could manage. “I not trouble!”

Beth smirked, leaning back in her chair. “Oh, really?”

You pointed at her accusingly. “You is.”

The room erupted in laughter, and Renee, standing by the screen at the front, just shook her head fondly. “I don’t know she any of you even try arguing. You know She always wins.”

You grinned and took a dramatic sip from your smoothie which was just like Lotte’s, but without the weird protein stuff. Just fruit. Because you were very clear that the other stuff was, in your words, yucky.

“Careful, bug,” Renee added, watching as you took off running again. “We don’t need any injuries before training!”

“I’m fast,” you declared proudly. “Faster than all of ‘ou.”

That earned some amused scoffs from around the room.

“Oh yeah?” Alessia grinned, reaching out to tickle your side as you ran past her. “Faster than me?”

You giggled, swatting at her hand. “Yep.”

Alessia gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “Wow, just like that? No hesitation?”

“Nope.”

Emily, sitting next to her, snickered. “She’s got no mercy, Less.”

“None at all,” Alessia agreed. “I might cry.”

“You big,” you pointed out matter-of-factly, tilting your head at her. “You can’t cry.”

“Hey bug, be nice yeah?” Lotte reminded you, “It’s okay for anyone to cry, we need to be nice to everyone, okay?”

“I always nice, Mummy!” You huffed, arms crossed over your chest, “It’ okay to cry, Lessi!” You said, patting her knee. 

“Thank you for your permission, bug,” Alessia laughed, shaking her head. 

Lotte, watching from her chair with an amused smile, patted her lap. “Alright, Bug, come here before you actually take someone out.”

You made one more dramatic sprint across the room before clambering onto Katie’s lap first, because she always let you get away with things like stealing her hat. You plopped it onto your head, adjusting it until it sat just right.

“Oi, that’s mine,” Katie pointed out. “Yer’ a little devil!”

You crossed your arms. “Mine now.”

Katie smirked. “Oh yeah? And what if I take it back?”

You narrowed your eyes, gripping the hat tighter. “I’ll tell Mummy.”

The room erupted in laughter again, and Lotte raised an eyebrow. “What am I supposed to do about it, Bug?”

You thought about it for a second before shrugging. “Dunno but you fix stuff.”

With that, you wiggled off Katie’s lap and made your way over to Leah, who lifted you easily onto her knee. “Oi, what about me little miss? No hello?”

You grinned. “Hi, Le.” Then, very seriously, you added, “Mummy’s smoothie is still yucky.”

Kyra burst out laughing. “Tell her again, I don’t think she heard you.”

You turned in your seat, looking right at Lotte. “Yucky smoothie!”

Lotte sighed dramatically. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

Emily leaned over, grinning. “What’s wrong with it, Bug?”

You wrinkled your nose. “It’ got bits and it’ green.”

Alessia laughed. “The spinach?”

You nodded furiously. “Yucky.”

Beth leaned in with a teasing grin as she tickled your stomach. “But what if that’s what makes Mummy strong, huh? Maybe you need some ‘yucky bits’ to get as fast as you say you are.”

You squealed. “No! I don’ need bits to be fast! I’m already fast!” You turned to Renee, who was still standing at the front, arms crossed and watching the chaos with a fond smile. “Tell ‘em, you the boss!”

Renee chuckled, shaking her head. “Oh, I believe you, Bug. But maybe you should prove it, yeah?”

Your eyes lit up, and before anyone could stop you, you wiggled off Leah’s lap and bolted across the room, dodging between chairs and weaving past legs like a little whirlwind. “See? Fast!”

Lotte just sighed, watching you bounce on your toes, clearly ready to take off again. “Bug, come here before you knock someone over.”

You sighed dramatically, because everything you did had to be dramatic, but made your way back over to Lotte, climbing onto her lap with a huff. She adjusted you easily, one arm wrapped around you as she took a sip of her smoothie.

You wrinkled your nose again. “Still yucky, stinky too!”

Katie reached over, tapping your nose lightly. “You know, for someone who says they’re nice, you’re very passionate about Mummy’s smoothie.”

“I am nice!” you insisted. “I just tell the truth.”

Beth laughed. “Can’t argue with that.”

Renee clapped her hands once, bringing the room’s attention back to her. “Alright, enough distractions. You lot have training, and I’ve got things to go over.”

You sighed again, clearly unimpressed by the change in focus. “Boring.”

“Hey,” Renee scolded lightly, though her smile gave her away. “You like it in here, don’t you?”

You nodded, taking another sip of your smoothie. “Yeah. ‘Cause I get cuddles. I be the boss today?”

The whole room laughed, and Lotte pressed a kiss to the top of your head. “Alright, little miss Sassypants, time to behave while Renee talks.”

You huffed but snuggled closer, resting your head against Lotte’s shoulder. “Okay… but after, I wanna race.”

Renee raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And who are you challenging?”

You grinned, eyes scanning the room before pointing directly at Alessia. “Lessi!”

The room exploded with laughter. “Oh, so first I’m not allowed to cry, and now you wanna embarrass me in a race?” Alessia laughed. 

You nodded. “Yep.”

Emily leaned in, grinning. “Better warm up, Less.”

You beamed, wiggling excitedly in Lotte’s lap. “I gonna win.”

“Oh, we’ll see about that,” Alessia teased. “I might have to drink a special yucky smoothie to make sure I’m fast enough.”

You scrunched your nose in horror. “No, Lessi, don’t do it!”

The room erupted in laughter again, and Lotte chuckled, squeezing you tighter. “Alright, that’s enough troublemaking for now.”

You giggled, leaning back against Lotte’s chest, content as the chatter settled and Renee started talking again. You were a little whirlwind and no one minded your little personality. 

[magicallygrimmwiccan]

My dad lost his job when I was 7, and my mom ended up having to pull ridiculous hours at her work, due to short staffing, and also just to get enough money to keep us afloat. I also wasn't an only child- my sister's 7 years older than me, and while she was starting to go to a public high school, my parents refused to pull me out of private school, even if it would open up more money for them, because they were concerned about their clearly-abnormal child in our city's public school system. My mom wasn't around for a lot of important things for me- she missed over half of my middle school band concerts, and about half of my sporting events, and I only had a couple hours a day I could really spend with her for the most part.

They still managed to find ways to let their kids have a fun time, and feel loved. The zoo in our city was free, and they discovered early that I loved just walking around and looking at the animals, so that was a common weekend trip. My parents also raised my sister and I to be readers, and so the library was a great free option as well. My sister ended up spending a lot of time out of the house with her friends, and while I didn't do the same (due to not having a lot of friends), my parents still made sure that I felt loved and that I had what I needed.

Were my parents perfect? Hell no. No they were not. My dad and I had an argument multiple times a week as I started entering middle and high school, and my mom to this day feels awful about how much of my childhood she missed due to work. But they tried. Did I have the latest technology and the latest fashions and all these toys and shiny new things every other week, like a lot of my classmates with much richer parents did? No. But They did their best, and they tried to provide as much as they could afford.

Money doesn't correlate to happiness. Money doesn't correlate to love. Effort does. Assuming that all of the reasons your parents failed you were due to low income is incorrect, classist, and awful.

I know it's coming from people who also grew up poor and are reaching for explanations for the way their parents tried/failed/fucked it up, but it is genuinely classist to ascribe parental indifference to low income. I knew so many people growing up who had nothing and worked themselves to the bone and loved their kids fiercely. do not tell me coming up with treats for your kid is something only the moneyed classes can do.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

A Real Good Doctor (Part 2)

Doctor Harry

Part One

Where Y/N and Harry run into each other and one thing leads to the next.

Word Count: 8,273

Content Warning: Mentions of blood, falling, surgery, and light smut.

Harry pulls open the door to the café, stepping aside to let Y/N walk out first before following close behind. The air is crisp, carrying the scent of muffins  from the bakery next door. They walk side by side in a comfortable silence for a moment, sipping their coffees as the city moves around them.

Then, without any hesitation, Harry speaks. “Why didn’t you text me?”

Y/N glances up at him, caught off guard by how straightforward he is. He is not teasing, not smirking just asking. She shifts her coffee cup between her hands, looking down at the sidewalk as they walk.

“I didn’t think I was supposed to,” she says honestly. “I figured the number was just for medical stuff. Like if something went wrong with the stitches.”

Harry nods slowly, considering that. “That’s fair,” he says. “But you could’ve texted anyway.”

She exhales, still looking ahead. “I just didn’t want to bother you,” she admits. “You’re a doctor. You have way more important things to deal with.”

Harry stops walking for a moment, and she pauses too, turning to face him. He studies her for a second, then shakes his head. “I wouldn’t have given you my number if I didn’t mean it.”

Y/N presses her lips together, feeling a small pang of regret. She had not considered that. She had assumed it was just a polite gesture, nothing more.

She nods, shifting slightly on her feet. “I guess I didn’t think about it that way.”

Harry gives a small shrug. “Well. Now you know.”

There is no pressure in his tone, no expectation—just a simple statement. And somehow, that makes it feel even more significant.

Harry takes another sip of his coffee, his gaze flicking toward Y/N before he speaks again. “It’s not every day you rescue a cute girl off the sidewalk.”

Y/N lets out a short laugh, shaking her head. “Is that in the medical textbooks? Proper procedure for stumbling across injured pedestrians?”

He smirks slightly. “Something like that.”

The conversation settles between them as they continue walking, the cold air biting just a little more now that they are no longer inside the café. Y/N tucks one hand into her coat pocket, shifting her coffee cup to the other as they pass a row of shop windows, each one glowing softly with warm light. The displays are decorated for the upcoming holidays, twinkling string lights casting a golden hue onto the sidewalk.

Harry glances at one of the windows, where an array of books is stacked beneath a sign that reads Winter Reads to Get Lost In. Y/N follows his gaze, her lips twitching slightly.

“You a big reader?” she asks.

He hums, considering. “Not as much as I’d like to be. Work keeps me busy.”

She nods, taking another sip of her drink before tilting her head slightly. “Speaking of work, what kind of doctor are you?”

“Trauma surgeon,” he answers easily.

Her eyebrows raise slightly. “That sounds… intense.”

He gives a small shrug. “It can be.”

She studies him for a moment. “So my knee was probably the least exciting thing you’ve had to deal with.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I wouldn’t say that. At least you were conscious. That’s more than I can say for a lot of my patients.”

Y/N winces slightly at that, imagining the kind of high-stakes situations he must deal with on a daily basis. “And you still had the energy to stop for coffee and go on a run?”

“I try,” he says. “Some days are easier than others.”

She watches him as they walk, noting the way his shoulders sit slightly tense, like he is used to carrying more weight than just his own.

“So when you’re not patching people up, running, and drinking overpriced coffee, what do you do?” she asks, shifting the conversation to something lighter.

Harry glances at her, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly. “You make it sound like I have no life.”

She grins. “Do you?”

He laughs under his breath. “I guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

Y/N rolls her eyes but feels herself smiling as they continue walking, the city stretching out ahead of them.

As they walk, their conversation flows effortlessly, jumping from books to coffee preferences to the best running routes in the city. The air is crisp, but the warmth of their drinks and the easy conversation makes it feel less biting.

After a brief lull, Harry glances at Y/N, his expression thoughtful. “What are you doing this weekend?”

Y/N hums, taking a sip of her coffee. “Not much, I think. Why?”

He hesitates for only a second before saying, “I was thinking�� maybe we could get dinner?”

She slows her steps slightly, looking up at him. There is no teasing in his expression, no smugness—just a simple, casual invitation.

“Oh,” she says, a little caught off guard, though pleasantly so. “Like a ‘thank you for stitching me up’ dinner or…?”

Harry smirks. “I mean, if that’s what you want to call it.”

Y/N bites her lip, suppressing a smile. “I think I could be convinced.”

“Good,” he says with a nod. “Any place in mind?”

She thinks for a moment before her eyes light up. “There’s this Thai place I love, but it’s kind of a hole in the wall.”

Harry raises a brow. “You’re not talking about Saap Thai, are you?”

Y/N’s jaw drops slightly. “Wait—you know it?”

“Know it?” He scoffs. “I’ve been going there for years. Best pad see ew in the city.”

She laughs, shaking her head. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or concerned that we both love the same obscure Thai place.”

Harry grins. “I’d say it’s a good sign.”

Y/N pretends to consider. “Fine. I guess I can meet you there this weekend.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says, his voice warm.

As they continue walking, Y/N feels a quiet excitement settle in her chest. A few weeks ago, she never would have imagined any of this happening. But now, here she was—planning dinner with the doctor who quite literally picked her up off the sidewalk.

Their walk naturally loops back around to the coffee shop, the familiar scent of espresso and baked goods greeting them once more. Through the window, Y/N spots Poppy sitting at a small table near the front, scrolling on her phone, but not-so-subtly glancing up every few seconds as if to check on her progress.

Harry follows her gaze and nods. “Looks like your friend is waiting.”

Y/N exhales, part of her wishing she had a little more time before they had to part ways. “Yeah, I should probably get back before she starts interrogating me.”

Harry smirks, shifting his coffee cup between his hands. “I should let you go, then.” He tilts his head slightly. “But I’ll see you this weekend?”

Y/N nods, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach. “Yeah. Looking forward to it.”

There is a brief pause before Harry steps closer, wrapping one arm around her in an easy, natural hug. For a second, she freezes, caught off guard, but then she relaxes into it, letting her arms wrap around him in return.

He is warm, solid, and his scent—clean, fresh, with a hint of something woodsy—lingers in the air between them. It is the same scent she noticed in his car, the same one that clung to his hoodie when he had wrapped her knee. Now, pressed against him, she can tell it is just him, and something about that makes her heart pick up slightly.

Harry pulls back first, his expression unreadable but not unkind. “Take care of yourself, alright?”

Y/N nods, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she steps back toward the door. “You too, Doctor.”

He huffs out a quiet laugh before turning and walking down the street, disappearing into the flow of city traffic.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N steps back inside the café, bracing herself for the inevitable interrogation waiting at Poppy’s table.

The moment Y/N steps inside, Poppy looks up from her phone, her eyes already wide with excitement. She doesn’t even try to hide her smirk as she leans forward on the table, both hands wrapped around her coffee cup like she has been waiting for this moment all her life.

“Well?” Poppy says, dragging out the word. “Are you going to tell me, or do I have to start guessing?”

Y/N sighs, setting her coffee down before sliding into the chair across from her. “Nothing happened,” she says, though the warmth in her face betrays her.

Poppy scoffs. “Nothing happened? Babe, I watched you walk off with a literal doctor who carried you through the streets of New York. And then you come back forty minutes later looking all—” She gestures vaguely at Y/N. “Like that.”

Y/N raises a brow. “Like what?”

“Like someone who just got asked on a date,” Poppy says, eyes sparkling.

Y/N groans, covering her face for a second before peeking through her fingers. “Okay. Fine. Maybe he asked me to dinner this weekend.”

Poppy gasps dramatically, nearly knocking over her coffee. “I KNEW IT!” She slaps the table, drawing the attention of the barista behind the counter. “I knew there was something there! Oh my god, tell me everything. Where? When? What did he say?”

Y/N sighs, unable to fight back a small smile as she leans back in her chair. “We’re going to that little Thai place we love.”

Poppy gasps again, clutching her chest like she has just received the best news of her life. “Oh, this is fate. This is a rom-com. He just happens to love the same restaurant? Babe, this is how love stories start.”

Y/N rolls her eyes, but the truth is, a small part of her is thinking the same thing.

“It’s just dinner,” she says, though even she does not sound convinced.

Poppy grins knowingly, stirring her coffee. “Mmmhmm. Sure. And next week, I’ll be helping you pick out an outfit for date number two.”

Y/N shakes her head, laughing, but she does not deny it.

On the weekend, Y/N stands in front of her closet, scanning through her options with a mix of excitement and nerves. It had been a while since she had gone on a proper date, and despite telling herself that this was just dinner, she could not ignore the way her stomach fluttered at the thought of seeing Harry again.

She pulls out a nice top, something flattering but not too dressy, and pairs it with high-waisted pants that hug her just right. She slips on a pair of flats, knowing she wants to be comfortable but still put together. The outfit is simple, effortless, exactly the balance she wants to strike.

Stepping in front of the mirror, she smooths her hands over the fabric and exhales. Her hair falls just right, and her makeup is light but enough to make her feel confident. She wants to look nice without feeling like she is trying too hard.

Checking the time, she grabs her purse and phone before heading toward the door. Her heart beats a little faster as she steps out, the anticipation settling in as she makes her way to the Thai restaurant where Harry is waiting.

Y/N arrives at the Thai restaurant just a few minutes early, the familiar scent of spices and sizzling dishes drifting through the air as she approaches the entrance. The small, tucked-away spot is just as cozy as she remembers, warm light spilling from the windows onto the sidewalk. She pulls open the door, stepping inside, her pulse quickening slightly as she glances around.

Harry is already there. He stands near the entrance, scanning the room before his eyes land on her. His expression shifts instantly, a small, genuine smile appearing as he takes her in. He looks effortlessly put together in a dark button-up with the sleeves casually rolled to his forearms, paired with well-fitted trousers. He looks good—really good.

“Hey,” he greets, stepping forward slightly. “You made it.”

She laughs softly. “Would’ve been awkward if I didn’t.”

He smirks, then gestures toward the host stand. “I got us a table. Ready to eat?”

“Absolutely,” she says, feeling the warmth of anticipation settle in her chest.

The host leads them to a small table near the window, tucked away just enough for them to have some privacy. The restaurant hums with quiet conversations and the clinking of plates, the atmosphere intimate but relaxed. They sit across from each other, the flickering candle on the table casting a soft glow over their faces.

Harry leans back slightly, resting his forearm on the table as he glances over the menu. “So, do you already know what you’re getting, or are you one of those people who has to read through the whole thing every time?”

Y/N tilts her head playfully. “I like to consider all my options.”

He huffs a quiet laugh. “I already know what I’m getting.”

“Let me guess. Pad see ew?”

Harry raises a brow, impressed. “Good memory.”

She shrugs, smirking slightly. “You said it was the best in the city.”

He nods, then gestures to her. “What about you?”

“I always go for the green curry,” she says, setting the menu down.

“Solid choice,” he acknowledges, closing his own menu just as their server approaches. They place their orders, and once the server leaves, Harry leans in slightly, his gaze settling on her with quiet curiosity.

“So,” he says, “is this the part where we ask all the typical first-date questions?”

Y/N arches a brow. “Is that what this is?”

He tilts his head slightly, considering. “Would you be here if it wasn’t?”

She exhales a soft laugh, shaking her head. “No, I wouldn’t.”

His lips twitch with amusement. “Good to know.”

She sips her water, meeting his gaze. “Alright, then. Typical first-date questions. What made you want to be a doctor?”

Harry thinks for a moment, his fingers tapping idly against the table. “I guess I’ve always liked the idea of being able to help people. My mum was a nurse, so I grew up around it. Seeing the way she cared for people, how she made a difference in their lives—I wanted to be able to do the same.”

Y/N listens intently, watching the way his expression softens slightly when he talks about it. There is no arrogance in his voice, no sense of self-importance. Just sincerity.

“That’s a good reason,” she says, nodding.

He shrugs lightly. “What about you? What do you do?”

“I work in publishing,” she says. “Mostly editing manuscripts before they go to print. It’s not quite as life-saving as your job, but it has its moments.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” he says. “Books have probably saved more lives than I have.”

She smiles at that, tilting her head. “That might be the nicest thing anyone has said about my job.”

Their conversation flows easily, moving from work to travel, to childhood memories, to the small quirks that make them who they are. Time seems to slip away as the food arrives, the dishes filling the space between them as they eat and talk, neither of them feeling the need to check the time.

At some point, Y/N realizes how natural this feels—how easy it is to be here with him, to talk to him like they have known each other longer than just a few weeks. It is effortless, but not in a way that feels fleeting. It feels like something that could last.

And judging by the way Harry looks at her, like he is just as caught up in the moment as she is, she thinks he might feel the same way.

They were caught up in the moment, lost in the conversation, in the warmth of good food and easy laughter, until the sudden vibration of Harry’s phone cut through it. He barely noticed it at first, but when it rang again, more insistent this time, he sighed and pulled it from his pocket.

His eyes flicked to the screen, and immediately, his expression shifted. His relaxed demeanor tensed, his jaw setting as he read the caller ID.

“Sorry,” he murmured, glancing at Y/N before standing. “I have to take this.”

She nodded, watching as he stepped away from the table, pressing the phone to his ear. She could not hear much, just the low hum of his voice as he spoke in short, clipped sentences. His hand raked through his hair at one point, his posture stiff as he listened to whatever was being said on the other end.

When he finally returned, his expression was tight, his lips pressed together in a way that told her the night was about to change.

“I have to go,” he said, exhaling through his nose. “There was an accident. I need to scrub in.”

Y/N immediately sat up, nodding in understanding. “Of course. Go.”

He hesitated, glancing at the half-finished plates in front of them. “I feel bad cutting this short.”

She smiled softly. “You don’t have to. This is your job. People need you.”

His brows furrowed slightly, like he wanted to say something else, but he did not have time to linger.

“I’ll pay for it,” she added, waving a hand. “Consider it repayment for saving my leg.”

Harry shook his head, clearly not liking the idea. “I should at least—”

“Harry,” she interrupted gently, tilting her head toward the door. “Go.”

He sighed, but there was a flicker of appreciation in his eyes. Without another word, he stepped forward and wrapped her in a quick hug. It was warm, firm, and over too soon.

“Rain check?” he asked as he pulled back.

She smiled. “Absolutely.”

He lingered for only a second before nodding and rushing out the door, disappearing into the night.

Y/N watched him go, the space he left behind feeling oddly empty. With a quiet breath, she sat back down, staring at the table before shaking her head with a small smile.

So much for a typical first date.

When Y/N got home, she kicked off her flats, set her purse down, and immediately pulled out her phone. She already knew Poppy was waiting for an update, probably pacing her apartment in anticipation.

Y/N: So… the date was going great.

It took less than five seconds for Poppy to reply.

Poppy: WAS??? Babe, what happened???

Y/N: His job called. There was an accident, and he had to go into surgery.

Poppy: NOOOO. You’re telling me your date got interrupted because he had to go save lives?? That’s both tragic and ridiculously hot.

Y/N: I mean… yeah, basically.

Poppy: Ugh. What a man. Okay, but how was it before he had to go be a hero?

Y/N: Honestly? It was really nice. We talked, laughed, and we even like the same Thai place. It was just easy.

Poppy: So you like him.

Y/N stared at the message for a second before sighing.

Y/N: Yeah. I do.

Poppy: I KNEW IT.

Y/N: But what if his schedule is always like this? What if this happens all the time?

Poppy: That’s something you’ll figure out if it turns into something serious. Right now? It’s one date. And judging by the way you’re texting me, I don’t think it’s going to be the last.

Y/N chewed on her lip, thinking about the way Harry had hugged her before leaving, the way he had asked for a rain check like he wanted to see her again.

Y/N: Yeah… maybe not.

Poppy: Oh, babe. You’re done for.

Y/N laughed, shaking her head before tossing her phone onto the couch. Maybe Poppy was right. Maybe she was done for. But strangely enough, she did not mind the thought.

Later that night, as Y/N sat curled up on her couch, half-watching a show she had no real interest in, her phone lit up with an incoming call. The name on the screen made her heart stutter for a second.

Harry.

She hesitated, unsure if he had meant to call her or if it was some kind of mistake. But after a moment, she swiped to answer, bringing the phone to her ear.

“Hello?” she said cautiously.

“Hey,” Harry’s voice came through, low and warm, a little more tired than it had been earlier. “I hope it’s okay that I called.”

Y/N sat up slightly, tucking her legs beneath her. “Yeah, of course. I just… wasn’t sure if you meant to.”

He let out a quiet chuckle. “I did. Texts felt too informal. I felt bad about leaving so abruptly and—” He paused for a second. “I don’t know. I wanted to hear your voice.”

Her stomach flipped slightly at that. She swallowed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “You really didn’t have to feel bad, you know. You were literally saving lives.”

“Still,” he murmured, then exhaled. “How was the rest of your night?”

“Uneventful,” she admitted. “Poppy demanded a full debrief, obviously.”

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. “I can only imagine.”

Y/N smiled before tilting her head slightly. “How did surgery go?”

There was a brief pause, then a sigh on the other end. “It was rough,” he admitted. “Multiple injuries, a lot of moving pieces. But we managed. Patient’s stable now, which is what matters.”

Y/N could hear the exhaustion in his voice, the weight of whatever he had dealt with tonight still lingering. She could not even begin to imagine the kind of pressure that came with his job.

“You must be exhausted,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” he admitted, “but I wanted to check in.”

A warmth spread through her chest at that. “Well,” she said, smiling slightly, “I appreciate it.”

There was a quiet hum on the other end, followed by a brief silence that felt comfortable rather than awkward.

“Rain check still on?” he asked eventually.

Y/N’s smile widened. “Yeah. It is.”

“Good,” he murmured. “I’ll let you get some sleep, then. Just wanted to call.”

“Thanks for calling, Harry.”

“Night, Y/N.”

As she hung up, she stared at her phone for a long moment, unable to shake the small, ridiculous smile that had settled on her face.

The next morning, Y/N woke up to a text from Harry. She had not been expecting it so soon, but seeing his name pop up on her screen brought an immediate warmth to her chest.

Harry: Morning. Hope you slept well.

She smiled, rubbing the sleep from her eyes before responding.

Y/N: Morning. I did, surprisingly. You?

A few minutes passed before her phone buzzed again.

Harry: As well as I could after a long shift. But I’ve got the evening off. I was thinking… if you feel comfortable, maybe we could have dinner at mine instead of a restaurant.

Y/N sat up a little straighter, rereading the message.

Harry: A proper date this time. No stitches involved.

She huffed out a quiet laugh, shaking her head.

Y/N: That does sound like an upgrade.

Harry: I promise I won’t make you run this time either.

Y/N: You’re really selling this.

Harry: So is that a yes?

She hesitated for only a second, not because she was unsure, but because the idea of going to hisplace made this feel a little more personal, a little more real. But she wanted that.

Y/N: Yeah. I’d like that.

Harry: Perfect. I’ll cook. Do you like red or white wine?

Y/N: Red. But now I feel bad that you’re doing all the work.

Harry: You can bring dessert if it’ll make you feel better.

Y/N: Deal.

Harry: See you at seven?

Y/N: See you then.

She set her phone down, feeling an unfamiliar flutter in her stomach. This was different from meeting at a restaurant. This was stepping into his world, seeing him outside of work, outside of the rushed moments they had shared so far.

Y/N stood in front of Harry’s door, balancing a sheet of homemade brownies in one hand while smoothing down her sweater with the other. She took a deep breath, trying to shake off the last bit of nerves before pressing the doorbell.

Within seconds, the door swung open, and there he was. Harry, in a dark knit sweater and fitted jeans, his hair slightly tousled, looking far more relaxed than he had the last time she was here.

“You actually baked?” he asked, glancing down at the brownies with a small smirk.

She scoffed. “Excuse me, I happily took on the responsibility of dessert.” She lifted the tray slightly. “And these are homemade, by the way. Not store-bought.”

Harry placed a hand over his heart dramatically. “I’m honored.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing, as he stepped aside to let her in. The warmth of his home greeted her instantly, the scent of something rich and savory filling the air. He reached for her coat, sliding it off her shoulders before hanging it by the door.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, gesturing toward the living room as he took the brownies from her.

Y/N stepped further inside, taking in the space properly for the first time. The last time she had been here, her focus had been entirely on her bleeding knee, on not ruining his furniture with her mess. Now, she could actually look.

His home was beautiful, but not in a showroom kind of way. It was warm and lived-in, filled with small details that made it feel personal. A large bookshelf lined one of the walls, stacked with an impressive mix of medical journals, classic literature, and a few well-worn novels that she suspected were old favorites. A record player sat near the corner, a small stack of vinyls beside it. The couch looked plush and inviting, a cozy knit blanket draped over the armrest.

“This place is beautiful,” she said, turning back to him. “I can actually appreciate it now that I’m not panicking about getting blood everywhere.”

Harry chuckled, setting the brownies on the counter before leaning against it. “Yeah, you were a little preoccupied last time.”

She smirked. “Just a bit.”

He crossed his arms, watching her as she took everything in. “Wine?”

She turned toward him, nodding. “Please.”

As he grabbed the bottle and two glasses, she let herself settle into his space, feeling more at ease than she had expected. This already felt different from their rushed encounters before. This was slower, intentional, and as Harry poured the wine, she realized just how much she was looking forward to the night ahead.

Harry poured the wine, handing her a glass before raising his own slightly. “To a proper date,” he said with a small smirk.

Y/N clinked her glass against his. “No injuries this time,” she added before taking a sip. The deep red was smooth and rich, warming her instantly.

Harry leaned against the counter, watching her with an amused expression. “So, homemade brownies, huh?”

She arched a brow. “Surprised?”

“A little,” he admitted, tilting his head. “Didn’t peg you for the baking type.”

Y/N scoffed, feigning offense. “Excuse me, I am a woman of many talents.”

He smirked. “Oh yeah? Like what?”

She tapped her fingers against her glass, pretending to think. “Well, I can run—most of the time, without falling. I can read an entire novel in a day. And I make a mean grilled cheese.”

Harry laughed, taking a sip of his wine. “Impressive resume. But I’m gonna need to try one of these brownies before I believe the baking claim.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “You’ll be thanking me later.”

He nodded toward the living room. “Come sit while dinner finishes up.”

She followed him to the couch, sinking into the plush cushions as he took the spot next to her. The warmth of his home, mixed with the lingering scent of whatever he had cooking, made everything feel comfortable. Easy.

“So,” she said, turning toward him slightly, “is this how you usually spend your nights off? Cooking elaborate meals and drinking expensive wine?”

Harry huffed a quiet laugh. “Not exactly. My nights off are pretty rare, so when they do happen, I try to enjoy them. Sometimes that means cooking, sometimes it means catching up on sleep.”

Y/N took another sip of wine. “Well, I feel honored that I made the cut.”

“You should,” he teased, smirking over the rim of his glass.

She nudged his knee with hers. “And here I was thinking you were this super serious doctor with no time for fun.”

Harry raised a brow. “You think I’m serious?”

“At work? Absolutely,” she said. “You were all business when you stitched me up.”

“To be fair, you were bleeding all over my floor,” he pointed out.

She laughed, shaking her head. “True. But you did joke about battle scars, so maybe I should’ve known you weren’t completely serious all the time.”

Harry shrugged, the corner of his mouth lifting. “I have my moments.”

Their eyes met, and for a second, the playful teasing faded into something quieter. Warmer. Y/N felt it settle in her chest, the realization that she liked sitting here with him, talking with him like this.

Before she could say anything else, a soft chime sounded from the kitchen. Harry glanced toward it, then back at her. “That would be dinner.”

She smiled, leaning back against the couch. “Alright, Doctor. Show me what you’ve got.”

Harry chuckled, standing up. “Prepare to be impressed.”

Harry made his way to the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves as he moved with practiced ease. Y/N watched him for a moment, sipping her wine, enjoying the sight of him in his element. There was something effortless about the way he moved—graceful, confident, like he belonged in any space he stepped into.

“You need any help?” she called out.

He glanced over his shoulder, smirking. “I’ve got it under control.”

She grinned, setting her glass down before getting up anyway. “I don’t mind playing sous-chef.”

He shook his head but didn’t argue as she wandered over, leaning against the counter beside him. The warm, savory scent of spices and herbs filled the air, and she peeked over his shoulder at the dish he had been preparing.

“That smells amazing,” she said, genuinely impressed.

Harry gave a modest shrug. “It’s a simple dish. Just takes a little time to get the flavors right.”

Y/N raised a brow. “So you can stitch people up and cook? Overachiever.”

He chuckled. “I try.” He glanced at her, a playful glint in his eyes. “What about you? Besides baking world-class brownies, what’s your specialty in the kitchen?”

She exhaled dramatically. “Grilled cheese, remember? I do it really well.”

“Ah, right,” he said, nodding seriously. “That’s a tough one to master.”

She smirked. “Don’t mock me, Styles. You haven’t tried it.”

He held up his hands in surrender. “You’re right. Maybe next time, I’ll let you cook.”

Something about the casual way he said next time made her stomach flip. She busied herself by grabbing a couple of plates from the counter, trying not to read too much into it.

A few minutes later, Harry was plating the food, and Y/N helped set the table. Once everything was ready, they sat across from each other, the dim lighting adding an unexpected intimacy to the moment.

Y/N took her first bite, humming in approval. “Okay, yeah. This is incredible.”

Harry smirked, taking a bite of his own. “I’m glad you approve.”

They ate and talked, falling into the same easy rhythm they had earlier. Y/N learned more about his life outside of work—his love for music, the way he sometimes played the guitar to unwind, his favorite places to travel when he had the rare chance. He asked about her job, about the books she had worked on, about the things she wanted to do outside of publishing.

Time passed quickly, their plates empty before they even realized it.

Harry leaned back in his chair, sipping his wine. “Alright. I think I’m ready to try these famous brownies now.”

Y/N grinned, standing to grab the tray. “Prepare to have your expectations blown.”

She set the brownies down between them, cutting a piece for each of them. Harry took a bite first, pausing as he chewed.

Y/N narrowed her eyes. “If you say anything less than amazing, I’m walking out that door.”

He swallowed, setting his fork down before nodding. “Alright. I won’t say it.”

Her jaw dropped. “Harry.”

His lips twitched, and finally, he gave in. “Fine. They’re amazing.”

She let out a satisfied hum, leaning back in her chair. “That’s what I thought.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “You’re very competitive.”

“Only when I know I’m right,” she said, flashing him a teasing smile.

Harry took another bite, shaking his head fondly. “Noted.”

The night continued, conversation flowing effortlessly between them. At some point, they had both abandoned the dining table, moving back to the couch with their wine. The music from the record player hummed softly in the background, adding a warmth to the space that Y/N found herself completely at ease in.

Harry motioned toward the couch, nodding for her to join him. “Come sit. I’ll clean up later.”

Y/N hesitated for only a second before giving in, grabbing her wine glass and settling onto the couch beside him. Maybe it was the warmth of the room, the soft music playing in the background, or maybe it was the wine, but she felt drawn to him in a way that was impossible to ignore.

He sat close, not enough to cross any lines, but enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. He took a slow sip of his wine, his gaze flickering toward her before he smirked.

“You know,” he said, setting his glass down on the coffee table, “for someone who nearly took themselves out with a sidewalk crack, you carry yourself pretty confidently.”

Y/N let out an incredulous laugh, lightly nudging his arm. “Are you ever going to let that go?”

He grinned, tilting his head slightly. “I mean, I did quite literally save your leg. You might owe me a little good-natured teasing.”

She rolled her eyes but could not help the smile tugging at her lips. “Fine. I’ll allow it. But if you ever trip over something, I will be keeping score.”

Harry hummed, pretending to consider. “Fair enough.”

She took another sip of her wine, setting the glass aside before shifting slightly to face him. “So, is this your signature move? Luring women in with wine and homemade meals?”

He raised a brow, smirking. “If it was, do you think it’s working?”

Y/N’s breath hitched slightly, caught off guard by how effortlessly he turned the teasing back on her. She bit her lip, narrowing her eyes. “I think I’m going to need more evidence before I make a final judgment.”

His smirk deepened, his green eyes flickering over her face. “Guess I’ll just have to prove myself, then.”

Something shifted in the air between them, a quiet tension settling in, thick and unspoken. Y/N could feel her heartbeat pick up slightly, her stomach flipping at the way he looked at her—not in a way that was rushed or expectant, but like he was simply waiting. Giving her the space to decide what happened next.

She exhaled, shaking her head with a soft laugh. “You really are annoyingly charming.”

Harry grinned, resting his arm over the back of the couch, his fingers just inches from her shoulder. “I try.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, his smirk softening into something more genuine. “How’s the knee?” he asked, nodding toward her leg.

Y/N glanced down, instinctively reaching for the fabric of her pants before looking back at him. “You want to see your handiwork?”

He chuckled, setting his wine down. “Of course. I take pride in my work.”

Rolling her eyes but smiling, she shifted slightly, pulling up the leg of her pants just enough to reveal the faint scar where his stitches had been. The skin had healed beautifully, barely a trace of the injury left behind.

Harry leaned in slightly, his fingers brushing over her shin just above the scar. “Not bad,” he murmured, tilting his head as he studied it. “Looks like I know what I’m doing.”

She laughed. “I’ll give you credit where it’s due.”

His thumb traced lightly over the skin for just a second before he looked up at her. “You said this one healed better than most?”

Y/N nodded, exhaling through her nose. “Yeah. I’m kind of clumsy. I have a few more from… various unfortunate incidents.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Care to share?”

Smirking slightly, she pulled up the sleeve of her sweater, revealing a faint, thin scar along her forearm. “Kitchen accident. I may or may not have grabbed a baking sheet straight out of the oven without a mitt.”

Harry let out a deep chuckle, shaking his head. “Impressive.”

She moved her hand to her knee, pointing at a faint scar along the side. “This one was from when I fell off my bike as a kid.”

He nodded, his gaze flickering over her skin, his fingers still resting against her shin. “Seems like you’ve been keeping me in business for years without even knowing it.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, but before she could respond, Harry’s voice dropped slightly, his smirk returning.

“Well,” he murmured, his thumb grazing over the edge of her knee, “if you ever need a more thoroughcheck-up…”

Her breath caught as his words sank in. She looked up at him, finding his green eyes already locked on hers, dark with suggestion. His hand rested lightly against her thigh now, the warmth of it seeping through the fabric of her pants.

Her gaze flickered over him—the sharp lines of his jaw, the way his tongue flicked briefly over his bottom lip, the tattoos that curled up his forearm, disappearing beneath the sleeve of his sweater. Everything about him in that moment felt intentional, his presence heavy in the best way possible.

She swallowed, tilting her head slightly. “Is that part of your medical expertise?”

Harry’s smirk deepened, his fingers pressing slightly into her thigh. “Only for special patients.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had known there was something between them since the moment he had knelt in front of her on the sidewalk, but now—sitting here, with his hands on her, his voice low and smooth, his eyes watching her like he was waiting for her next move—she realized just how much she wanted to find out where this could go.

Y/N barely had time to process before Harry's hands tightened around her waist, his grip firm but gentle as he pulled her flush against him. The heat from his body engulfed her, the air between them humming with a palpable desire.

His eyes scanned her face intently, gauging her reaction. "Is this okay?" he asked in a hushed tone, his voice hoarse with anticipation.

She nodded, a gasp escaping her lips. It wasn't enough. She nodded once more, this time with urgency, her fingers clutching onto his sweater as if to pull him even closer herself.

That was all the permission he needed.

Harry's lips found hers, tentative at first, seeking permission as their mouths explored each other. But when she responded eagerly, he deepened the kiss with fervor. One of his hands trailed up her back, his fingertips dancing along her spine, while the other hand remained on her thigh, pressing her firmly against him.

His taste was intoxicating – reminiscent of rich red wine that warmed her in a way that made her head swim. It was how he kissed her that left her breathless – unhurried yet confident as if he'd been longing for this moment.

Y/N's hands wandered up to Harry's broad shoulders, feeling the tense muscles beneath her fingers. Her heart raced as he tilted his head, their noses brushing against one another before their tongues tangled in an intimate dance that sent shivers down her spine.

When they finally broke apart just enough to catch their breaths, Harry's forehead rested against Y/N's as they shared a hot exhalation.

"Well," he breathed out, a thumb caressing circles on her hip. "That escalated."

Y/N released a shaky laugh, keeping her eyes closed. "Yeah. Not complaining though."

Harry chuckled softly, tightening his hold momentarily before relaxing again – as if still unsure whether or not to let go. "Me neither."

She opened her eyes, finding his already locked on hers, the green of them dark with desire. He scrutinized her for a moment, and for the first time since this began, he appeared hesitant.

"I don't want to rush anything," he confessed in a gentle whisper. "Tell me if this is too much."

Y/N smiled softly, shaking her head. "It's not."

His lips curved at the corners as his hand moved from her back to cradle her cheek, his thumb stroking softly along her jawline. "Good."

And then, as if that was the reassurance he needed, their mouths fused once again – an explicit display of unspoken yearning. 

Y/N barely had time to catch her breath before Harry kissed her again, deeper this time, like he had been holding back. His hand cradled her face, fingers threading through her hair as he pulled her even closer. The warmth of his body, the way his lips moved against hers—it was overwhelming in the best way.

She felt herself sinking into him, her hands exploring the solid planes of his shoulders, the way his muscles tensed beneath her fingertips. Harry let out a quiet sound against her lips, his grip tightening at her waist before he shifted, guiding her back against the couch.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he murmured between kisses, his voice rough with restraint.

“I don’t,” she whispered, her breath hitching as his lips trailed along her jaw, down to her neck. “I really don’t.”

Harry exhaled sharply, pressing his forehead against hers for just a moment before nodding. “Come with me,” he said, his voice lower now, edged with something deeper.

He stood, pulling her up with him effortlessly, his hands never leaving her as he guided her toward his bedroom. The moment they stepped inside, the energy shifted—more intimate, more charged. The dim light cast soft shadows across the space, the faint scent of him lingering in the air.

Harry’s hands found her waist again, but this time, they moved slower, more deliberate. His lips hovered just over hers, waiting for her to close the distance. She did.

Their movements became unhurried, hands exploring, lips seeking. Harry took his time, his touch reverent, like he wanted to memorize every part of her. He guided her gently onto the bed, his body pressing against hers, his kisses deepening, his breath growing uneven.

“Are you sure?” he asked one last time, his green eyes searching hers, his thumb stroking slow circles against her hip.

Y/N swallowed, her heart pounding, but there was no hesitation when she whispered, “Yes.”

Harry exhaled like he had been waiting for that, then kissed her again, slow and consuming, as the rest of the world faded away.

The night unfolded slowly, each moment stretching with quiet intensity. Harry took his time, his touch gentle yet sure, as if he was memorizing her, learning her in a way that felt deeply personal. There was something unspoken in the way he moved—no rush, no urgency, just deliberate care, like he wanted her to feel everything, every thrust, to know this was not just a fleeting moment.

Y/N responded in kind, matching his pace, her hands mapping the lines of his body, tracing the tattoos inked into his skin. She felt the strength in him as he moved within her, the way his muscles tensed beneath her touch, the way his breath hitched when she explored the places he liked most, like the spot where his shoulder met his neck. It was intoxicating, feeling him unravel beneath her hands just as much as she was beneath his.

The room was warm, wrapped in the soft glow of the bedside lamp. The faint sound of the city outside was distant, muted by the heavy presence of him—the weight of his body, the heat of his breath, the way he murmured her name against her skin, and the way he moaned with pleasure.

He kissed her deeply, lingering as he pulled back just enough to look at her. “You okay?” he asked softly, his thumb brushing against her cheek, his voice quieter now, rough with emotion.

She nodded, her lips parting as she exhaled, still catching her breath. “Yeah,” she whispered. “More than okay.”

A slow, satisfied smile pulled at his lips before he kissed her again, sealing whatever words might have come next.

Everything about him was careful, intentional. The way he moved, the way he held her, the way he whispered her name like it meant something more. And maybe it did.

By the time they finally settled, tangled in each other beneath the sheets, the night had stretched into early morning. Y/N felt the rise and fall of Harry’s chest beneath her cheek, his arm draped lazily around her, fingers tracing light patterns against her skin.

Neither of them spoke for a while, content in the silence, in the warmth of the moment.

Then, after a long breath, Harry murmured, “That was worth the wait.”

Y/N huffed a quiet laugh against his skin, tilting her head up slightly. “Yeah?”

He looked down at her, his expression softer now. “Yeah.”

She smiled, letting her fingers trail along his arm, tracing one of the tattoos there. “So… do I get to keep my status as your favorite patient?”

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as he tightened his hold around her. “You were always my favorite.”

Y/N felt warmth bloom in her chest at his words, though she knew he was teasing. Mostly.

She sighed, her eyes growing heavy as sleep started to pull at her. “Hope you don’t have an early shift.”

Harry hummed, pressing a slow kiss to her forehead. “Don’t worry about that,” he murmured. “I’m exactly where I want to be.”

And with that, Y/N let herself drift off, safe in the warmth of him. 

Y/N woke to the feeling of warmth surrounding her, the faint scent of something woodsy lingering in the sheets. The room was dim, early morning light barely filtering through the curtains. It took her a moment to remember where she was, why she felt so comfortable, why the bed beneath her wasn’t her own.

Then, she felt movement beside her.

Harry.

She turned her head slightly, blinking the sleep from her eyes as she found him still lying beside her. His arm was draped over his pillow, hair slightly tousled, his breathing slow and steady. He looked completely at peace, his features soft in the early morning light.

A small smile tugged at her lips. She had not expected to wake up like this, wrapped in his sheets, in hisspace, but it felt… nice.

She shifted slightly, stretching out her sore muscles. Harry stirred at the movement, inhaling deeply before his eyes fluttered open.

His gaze met hers, and for a second, he just looked at her, like he was still processing where he was, too. Then, a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face.

“Morning,” he murmured, his voice thick with sleep.

“Morning,” she echoed, her voice quieter now, almost hesitant.

Harry let out a low hum, stretching his arms above his head before rolling onto his side to face her. He reached out, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. “Sleep okay?”

She nodded, her smile growing. “Yeah. Better than I expected.”

His smirk was lazy, teasing. “Better than your own bed?”

She scoffed, nudging him lightly with her foot beneath the sheets. “Don’t push it.”

He chuckled, letting his hand rest on her hip, his thumb tracing absentminded circles against her skin. The weight of his touch was grounding, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Stay for breakfast?” he asked after a moment, his voice quieter now.

Y/N hesitated, not because she didn’t want to, but because she hadn’t expected the night to bleed into the morning like this. She thought maybe she would slip out before he woke up, before they had to talk about what this meant. But now, with him looking at her like that, like he wanted her to stay, she felt the hesitation fade.

“What’s on the menu?” she asked, raising a brow.

Harry grinned. “That depends. Do you trust me in the kitchen?”

Y/N bit her lip, pretending to consider. “I suppose you did impress me with dinner last night.”

He rolled his eyes, tugging her closer playfully. “You’re impossible.”

She laughed, but the sound was cut off when he leaned in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss against her lips. It was different from last night—less urgent, more lazy, like he had all the time in the world to do this.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against hers. “So… breakfast?”

Y/N sighed dramatically, pretending to give in. “Fine. But only because I want to see if you’re as good at pancakes as you are at stitches.”

Harry smirked, his fingers grazing over her bare skin beneath the sheets. “Guess you’ll have to stick around and find out.”

She laughed softly, knowing full well that she had no plans of leaving just yet.

[4nicolas]

satoru gojo is physically unable to NOT touch you when he’s around you. it’s an impossible task for him, he needs his hands on you at all times and vise versa.

when you pass by him, he’s giving you a hug, running his hands up and down your back. before you leave he has to give you a kiss goodbye, maybe a bit more than one if you let him.

whether you’re in the kitchen trying a new recipe or simply doing laundry, satoru finds a way to touch you, he’ll hug you from behind, nuzzling his face into your neck, his hands intertwined around your waist. and if you pull away from the hug he’ll chase after your hands, pulling you back in.

when the two of you were watching a movie together he loved holding you, or having his head in your lap. he especially loved when you would run your hands through his hair, or gently scratch his undercut.

your touch was so addicting, anything you did to him made him overjoyed. he loved you so much, and he loved getting confirmation that you loved him too.

when you got home, you’d instantly greet him with a hug, he would squeeze you back, loving the feeling of you in his arms.

when you two go out for dinner or lunch he always finds a way to sneak his hand into yours, feeling giddy as he walks beside you hand in hand.

he loved when the two of you would call it a day and get ready for bed. stripping down to almost nothing so you could cuddle skin to skin. satoru absolutely loved the feeling of your skin against his.

he would hold you so impossibly close throughout the night that you have to practically peel yourself off of him and out of his grasp to breath.

when he had you in his arms he always held you so close and so tight as if you were gonna disappear any second. he wanted your body as close as possible, and if you weren’t molded together what was the point?

if satoru had a long or particularly exhausting day his favorite thing to do was come home to you and fall into your arms. you always made sure to cherish and love him.

your voice and touch instantly calmed him down and made him feel better, everything about you increased his mood.

all day whether it be when he’s teaching or doing missions you’re on his mind. he’s thinking about you and wondering what you’re up to, wondering if you miss him as much as he misses you.

he can’t help but call you every so often every ten minutes he needed to hear your voice, if not only helped him focus during missions but made him feel more at ease.

exorcising curses was not only a physically taxing job but also a mental one. even the strongest sorcerer needed his lover to comfort him after work.

and if he ended up teleporting to you after a mission or two so what? he missed his baby and you were far more important than any curse.

you’d get onto him, telling him he needed to do his missions, he was the most important sorcerer and as much as you hated it he wiped out a big portion of the cities’ curses.

he begrudgingly would go back, fufilling his duties for the day, but only after a quickie or two. it’s a stress reliever and your body and love gave him the energy to complete the rest of his tasks.

the highlight of his day is when he got to come back home to you. grinning at you with that big boyish smile as if he hadn’t seen you in weeks. it made you feel butterflies even after years of being with him.

oh man he loved you so much. everything you did he loved. he cherished your voice, your smile, your eyes, yours hands, everything about you. you were just so perfect.

how did he get so lucky as to have you? everyday you made his life so much better and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

he especially can’t wait for the day he puts a ring on your finger. he knows that’ll be so much better.