#And I might say more another time if I'm honest

[seitmai]

As always many thoughts...

You laughed at his unexpected response as he ran his rough fingers along Rose's fuzzy hair. "Don't forget about the seafood platters." "Sweetheart, I'll never forget about the seafood platters," he promised, turning to look at you as his head sank back against the couch.

Of course he wouldn't 😅

"I am." His brown eyes remained fixed on yours. "I am. I told you I was. I want them close, but not too close. Like, I don't want them next door where they can hear me call you my filthy little slut or something." "Bradley," you said, laughing again as he took Rose in his hands to burp her. "They don't need to know the ins and outs of how you call me Daddy while you're gagging on my cock either." He kissed the baby on her forehead. "Sorry, Nugget. I'll teach you one day how babies are made, and you'll probably cringe the whole time."

Hahah this whole conversation cracked me up 😂

You couldn't believe how quickly he shut it down. "It was just an idea," you mumbled, watching him snuggle the baby. "So you wouldn't have to miss Rose the whole time while you're away."

Ok rude of Bradley, it was just a nice thought 🙄😒

You nodded and hummed, lips brushing the scars on his neck. "I'm just happy you remembered." "Sweetheart, I remember everything," he promised. "And I propose that we plan a trip for the three of us before the year is over. We can go anywhere you and the Nugget want."

🥰🥰🥰

"We'll be fast," he replied confidently, turning off the stove burner. "You're never fast! You like to linger!" "It's a new era, Baby Girl. The mom and dad era. I'll learn how to be quick so we can finish before she wakes up."

Haha I can't with him

"Oh, I love this so much," he whined as his other fingers found your clit. "I'm not happy about making this quick. I might need more later."

Of course he does 🤭

He could already hear Rose getting restless in the nursery down the hallway, her soft cries ramping up as Bradley slammed his cock into his wife. He wanted to make sure he got you off before he was done, but then you went and said something so hot, he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. "I could always nurse you later if you want." "I take it you're interested in my offer." "Absolutely," he rasped, pulling his pants up so he could go say hi to his daughter. "If I ever say no to your tits, something is definitely wrong, Baby Girl. That would be your cue to take me out back and finish me off."

🤭🤭🤭

"When's the wedding?" you asked Jake as you dropped your tray next to his at lunch. He was eating the most delicious looking burger and a slice of pizza, and your soup and salad looked pitiful next to them. Seemingly no matter what you did, you'd stopped losing weight since the baby was born, and right now you were so exhausted, you couldn't even think about starting an exercise regimen.

Oh no, she is too hard on herself 🥺

"We've been engaged less than a month," Jake drawled, shoving some of the accompanying fries into his mouth. "Maybe some of us can wait a little longer to get hitched than your husband could, Angel."

Oh don't act like a saint Jake, we all know you wanna marry her sooner rather than later an if Cat had a buch of trauma and needs time because of that, they would have been married already 😅

Jake heaved a deep sigh, dragging a fry through ketchup. "He already calls me 'dad'. His speech was delayed, but it was still one of his first words, probably because I was around so much. I want to make sure Cat's ex doesn't get any rights, and if that means I need to hire another legal team before we get married, then so be it."

Dad Jake 🥹🥰

Maybe you could just get pizza. But you shouldn't. But it sounded so good as you watched Jake eat his. But your hips and belly were already so big, you couldn't let yourself.

Maybe maybe there is something else going on, hmm 🤭

"You look like a DILF."

He sure does 😌

"Be honest, how many of these do you think I'll need?" You snorted. "Unless every night is happy hour at the Copacabana, probably none. But knowing you, I'd pack at least two."

Hahaha this is so Bradley 😅

"This sucks," Bradley said for probably the hundredth time in the past hour. Standing at the curb at San Diego International Airport with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter, being forced to leave them for a week, was actually awful. He didn't want to go. He wanted to continue to cradle Rose against his chest with his arm wrapped around you until he missed his flight. "You need to go or you'll miss your flight. And then Mav will be on my case about it."

He just loves to be with his girls 🥰

Before he ducked inside, he cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted, "I love you!" He watched you blow him a kiss and then pull away from the curb before he headed to the counter to drop off his bag.

🥰🥰🥰 

To his absolute delight, all he had to do was ask nicely and flash his most charming smile, and he was handed the keys to a brand new, black Bronco. It was a model year newer than your red one back at home, and he was excited to scrutinize all of the little differences as he drove it around for the week.

He is living his best life 😅

Was he really that guy? Did he already miss his kid enough that he had to open up the photo gallery in his phone and scroll through a few pictures before he could drive away?

Yes, he absolutely 100% is

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," she said, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "All the way from Top Gun. I've been waiting to meet you for weeks, Sir."

Oh oh this feels like trouble 😬🫣

Aim for the Sky Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is required to travel for a week, and both you and he are exhausted. He's hoping this will mean fewer deployments in the future, but in the present, he's going to need to remember where his responsibilities lie.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, lactation kink, body image, fluff, smut, DILF Roo

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Once again, your parents extended their stay to spend more time with Rose, but when they finally flew back to Maryland, it felt strange to be on your own with your daughter. You and Bradley fell into a regular routine once more, but it took him days before he came clean about being stressed out. When he got home late from work to find you on the couch feeding Rose, you could tell by the set of his shoulders that he'd had a long day.

"Can we talk about some things?" he asked, bending to untie his boots. You'd been wanting him to confide in you for days, but you were already exhausted again from the late night feedings and had pushed the comments Bradley made to Jake to the back burner.

"What's on your mind?" you asked, secretly pleased that he leaned down to give you a long, needy kiss, complete with his big hand on your neck, before kissing Rose as she ate. It had been a few days since you and he were intimate, and your body was already responding to him as he dropped down on the couch next to you.

"Can we just move to La Jolla? Nothing stresses me out when we have copious amounts of champagne and oral sex."

You laughed at his unexpected response as he ran his rough fingers along Rose's fuzzy hair. "Don't forget about the seafood platters."

"Sweetheart, I'll never forget about the seafood platters," he promised, turning to look at you as his head sank back against the couch. "Your mom and dad are serious about moving out here."

Your smile started to fade away. "Yeah, Roo. They are. And I thought you were pleased by that fact."

"I am." His brown eyes remained fixed on yours. "I am. I told you I was. I want them close, but not too close. Like, I don't want them next door where they can hear me call you my filthy little slut or something."

"Bradley," you said, laughing again as he took Rose in his hands to burp her.

"They don't need to know the ins and outs of how you call me Daddy while you're gagging on my cock either." He kissed the baby on her forehead. "Sorry, Nugget. I'll teach you one day how babies are made, and you'll probably cringe the whole time."

You sighed and reached for Bradley, cupping his jaw in your hand and stroking his mustache with your thumb. "My parents are seriously getting their house ready to sell. So just give it to me straight."

He nodded. "I don't want them over here all the time, okay? I love them, I really do, but they take over our house when they come. And even though we finished the attic so they could have a place to stay when they're here, Rosie can move her bedroom up there when she's older. So it wasn't a waste of time since the contractor saw your tits."

"It was a photo of my tits! I didn't just whip them out for him to see!" Now Bradley was laughing as you said, "It sounds like you're worried about having some boundaries if my parents become our new neighbors."

"Yes," he replied, nodding as you ran your fingers along his jaw. "That."

"I'm sure we can have a conversation with them and address all of your concerns." Rose seemed to be done burping, and you were treated to the view of Bradley cuddling your four month old against his chest. "Now, can you tell me what else made you have a bad day at work?"

"What makes you think I had a bad day?" he asked, placing soft kisses on Rose's cheek. "I could never have a bad day when I get to come home to my girls." You sighed as he ran his nose along her hair and inhaled deeply before he met your gaze. "Okay. It's not the end of the world, but Mav informed me that I need to take a trip to the Naval Airstation in Fort Worth. I don't really have any details yet."

"Okay," you replied softly, finally voicing what had been on your mind. "Well, maybe Rose and I can come with you for a few days? I can't remember exactly how much vacation time I have left, but it could be fun. And you did say the next trip should be for the three of us to enjoy together."

Bradley shrugged and immediately said, "Fort Worth in August? Baby Girl, it's going to be miserably hot. I know you, for some reason, miss the east coast humidity, but this is going to be gross. Ask Jake about it, he's from that ridiculous state."

You couldn't believe how quickly he shut it down. "It was just an idea," you mumbled, watching him snuggle the baby. "So you wouldn't have to miss Rose the whole time while you're away."

His head tipped back as he sighed. "I'm taking this new position so I can hopefully deploy less often and be here more later on. Even if I have to start working longer days, a week or two away from home is nothing compared to five months."

You bristled. "I understand that, Roo. We've talked about this so much. But maybe try to be a little bit more patient with the idea of my parents moving here so I can have a support system when you're busy?"

When you stood and rushed toward the bedroom, Bradley was right behind you, hand reaching out to grab your shoulder while he still held Rose tight. "Are you mad at me?"

Your stomach roiled with irritation, annoyance and disdain. You hated when you got like this, because he was the one who could bring out the best and also the worst in you. "I don't know."

-------------------------------

You were kind of quiet at home. Bradley hated it. You were a bit more vocal during sex, but that certainly didn't make him feel any better about the rest of it.

"I have my dates for Fort Worth," he informed you when he strolled in from work with some yellow flowers and a new book for Rose. Today was important to him. He wasn't sure you'd remember why, but he still wanted to acknowledge it.

"When?" you asked, continuing to make dinner while he looked around for the baby. "She's napping in her crib," you added, seemingly knowing he always wanted his daughter nearby.

"Second week of August," he replied. "So, pretty soon. But just for a week." You nodded as Bradley walked closer, and he realized what you were cooking. "Marry Me Rooster?"

"Yeah." Your voice was soft as you looked at him over your shoulder. You were also still wearing your khaki uniform, and he could tell you were tired. He was tired, too, but he wanted things to feel more natural around here again. He didn't want to accept that this was just how things would be now when the two of you were taking turns getting up with Rose all the time.

He wished he hadn't made such a fuss about your parents, because he really did love them, and it would be nice to have some help occasionally. And now he felt like you were continually annoyed with him, and he had to figure out a way to fix this.

Your voice broke into his thoughts. "It's kind of a special day?" 

You sounded unsure. Like you thought maybe he didn't remember. But a smile immediately found his lips, and he gestured to the flowers. He should have known you'd remember. You remembered everything. You just made him a seafood platter to celebrate Carole's birthday the other day.

"I proposed two years ago." You visibly relaxed at his words as you took the flowers in your hands. He stroked the diamond ring on your finger as he said, "I couldn't wait another minute after I found this in the storage unit. I needed you to wear it. I needed you to say yes." You melted into his arms, and he kissed your forehead. "Can I go ahead and propose something else right now?"

You nodded and hummed, lips brushing the scars on his neck. "I'm just happy you remembered."

"Sweetheart, I remember everything," he promised. "And I propose that we plan a trip for the three of us before the year is over. We can go anywhere you and the Nugget want."

Your eyes lit up as he cupped your perfect cheek in his hand. "I have so many ideas, Roo."

"I knew you would. Can I make another proposal?" When you raised one eyebrow, he whispered, "How about we mess around before Rose wakes up?"

He was already wrapping his arms around you, turning you toward the hallway when you said, "But what about dinner?"

"We'll be fast," he replied confidently, turning off the stove burner.

"You're never fast! You like to linger!"

"It's a new era, Baby Girl. The mom and dad era. I'll learn how to be quick so we can finish before she wakes up."

This was the closest thing to a true quickie Bradley had experienced in a long time. Maybe ever. You were pushed up against the wall just inside the bedroom, belt jingling with your pants down around your thighs. He was going hard at a nice, steady pace with his hand inside your bra. Your warm milk dripped between his fingers and along his palm as he whimpered. 

"Oh, I love this so much," he whined as his other fingers found your clit. "I'm not happy about making this quick. I might need more later."

He could already hear Rose getting restless in the nursery down the hallway, her soft cries ramping up as Bradley slammed his cock into his wife. He wanted to make sure he got you off before he was done, but then you went and said something so hot, he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. 

"I could always nurse you later if you want."

When he came, his vision flooded with dizzying color. Bradley lapped your milk from his hand, moaning your name as his hips eventually slowed. Rose was wailing now as you bent down to pull your pants up, cum dripping down your inner thighs as you looked at him with a little grin.

"I take it you're interested in my offer."

"Absolutely," he rasped, pulling his pants up so he could go say hi to his daughter. "If I ever say no to your tits, something is definitely wrong, Baby Girl. That would be your cue to take me out back and finish me off." You laughed when he said, "Happy engagement anniversary. I'll go take care of the Nugget."

-----------------------------

"When's the wedding?" you asked Jake as you dropped your tray next to his at lunch. He was eating the most delicious looking burger and a slice of pizza, and your soup and salad looked pitiful next to them. Seemingly no matter what you did, you'd stopped losing weight since the baby was born, and right now you were so exhausted, you couldn't even think about starting an exercise regimen.

"We've been engaged less than a month," Jake drawled, shoving some of the accompanying fries into his mouth. "Maybe some of us can wait a little longer to get hitched than your husband could, Angel." You rolled your eyes dramatically at him, but you were fighting a smile. "I'm trying my best to make sure that everything is in order for Jeremiah, if I'm being honest."

"Like what?" you asked, blowing on a spoonful of your soup.

Jake heaved a deep sigh, dragging a fry through ketchup. "He already calls me 'dad'. His speech was delayed, but it was still one of his first words, probably because I was around so much. I want to make sure Cat's ex doesn't get any rights, and if that means I need to hire another legal team before we get married, then so be it."

Tears stung your eyes as you patted his cheek gently. You knew you were lucky that you and Bradley were together and that he would do anything to take care of his child, but right now you were just so happy for Jeremiah. "He's such a sweet kid, Jake. And you love him so much."

"I do," he replied before taking an enormous bite out of his burger. You let him chew in silence while you picked at your lunch. Right now, you really wished Bradley was here, but the chances of him showing up were slim when he was out shadowing Maverick again. He was leaving in a few days for Texas, and you were feeling pretty emotional. It would just be you and Rose at home for a whole week by yourselves.

"Well, if you're looking for a nice venue, I know a good parking lot."

Jake barked out a laugh. "There's too much sentimental Bradshaw bullshit in that parking lot. No way I'd be allowed to get married there."

Then Cat showed up, and Jake's attention immediately shifted to her. You poked your salad around on your plate, wondering why you were so damn tired. You still had four more hours of work to get through before you had to pick Rose up and make dinner. Maybe you could just get pizza. But you shouldn't. But it sounded so good as you watched Jake eat his. But your hips and belly were already so big, you couldn't let yourself.

Your afternoon was filled with checking code that someone in Annapolis had entered, and they'd done a really shitty job. When you left your office, your eyes were tired, and you could feel yourself caving. You ordered a pizza and picked it up on your way home with Rose. Then you ate half of it on the couch while you fed her. And when you were done, you really wanted to cry, because you didn't know why you couldn't control yourself right now.

"I'm starving," Bradley groaned when he walked in. "You got pizza?" he asked, shoving two slices stacked up on top of each other into his mouth and moaning. Then he dropped down onto the couch and polished them off while you switched Rose to your other side. "I need to remember to pack my dress blues for Fort Worth."

"Why?"

Bradley shrugged and reached for the next slice. "Apparently, there's some sort of reception for the aviators that are selected for Top Gun in the fall. I don't know how much sway I'll have, but I'm really hoping I can pick some good ones for the next generation of the program since I'm aging out."

"You're not aging out, Roo!" you gasped. "You chose a different career trajectory!" 

"I mean..."

"Stop. You're not old. Don't even try to tell me you're old."

"I'll be forty soon."

"You're thirty-eight."

"That's almost forty."

"You look like a DILF."

He reached for the last slice of pizza, folded it up and ate it while he reached for Rose. Like usual, she curled up on her father. Her features looked so much like his, but he was always the first one to argue with you about that, so you said nothing while he chewed up his food.

"I need you to help me pack for hot as hell Texas. I'm thinking just shorts besides my flight suits and uniforms?"

"I'll help you as soon as Rose goes to sleep for the night."

Bradley took the reins for the rest of the evening while you tried not to fall asleep before the baby. That was much easier said than done, but at least Bradley supervised tummy time while Tramp licked Rose, and then he gave her a bath. He read bedtime stories and changed her into pajamas so you didn't have to, gently setting her in her crib before joining you where you sat in bed yawning.

"You okay?" he asked, brushing his lips along your cheek before heading to the closet to start pulling out clothes to pack.

"Yeah. I just wish I didn't order the pizza, because it's empty calories, and it probably made me feel worse and more exhausted in the long run."

"But it was delicious," he muttered, piling up some of his favorite tropical print shirts. "Be honest, how many of these do you think I'll need?"

You snorted. "Unless every night is happy hour at the Copacabana, probably none. But knowing you, I'd pack at least two."

"See, you understand," he muttered with a smile as you chose two of your favorites and handed them to him. It was strange watching him load things into a duffle bag for something other than a deployment or special mission. You knew exactly how long he'd be gone. You knew it was just for a week and that he could FaceTime you and Rose whenever he wanted to, but it still felt like you were sending him away.

"We're going to miss you." 

He immediately tossed the bag onto the floor and joined you in bed. "Don't cry, Baby Girl," he whispered, swiping at tears you hadn't realized were already filling your eyes. "I'll barely be gone at all. And I don't even have to finish packing tonight. I can do it later."

You nodded and let him envelope you in his warmth. That's how you eventually fell asleep.

----------------------------------

"This sucks," Bradley said for probably the hundredth time in the past hour. Standing at the curb at San Diego International Airport with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter, being forced to leave them for a week, was actually awful. He didn't want to go. He wanted to continue to cradle Rose against his chest with his arm wrapped around you until he missed his flight.

"You have to go now so hopefully you can do this less frequently in the future," you whispered, voice shaky with emotion. You looked really tired, and Bradley knew you wouldn't get much of a break this week. That's why he'd arranged for Nat to check on you at home a few times whether you wanted her to or not.

"Count on it, Sweetheart," he murmured, placing kisses to Rosie's soft hair as her little fingers poked at the insignia pins on his uniform. "And I need you to be a perfect Nugget for Mommy. I'll call later tonight after I get settled in the barracks."

"Okay." Your voice was muffled as you buried your face against his neck. "I love you."

"I love you both," he promised, collecting his final kisses from Rose before buckling her into her car seat in the back of the red Bronco. Then he got a particularly filthy kiss from you that left both of you grinning before you started to shove him toward the airport entrance.

"You need to go or you'll miss your flight. And then Mav will be on my case about it."

Before he ducked inside, he cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted, "I love you!" He watched you blow him a kiss and then pull away from the curb before he headed to the counter to drop off his bag. 

He hated traveling like this, in his uniform. It felt like everyone milling around, trying to check their bags, was looking at him. He was only wearing it today, because he wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at a base he'd only visited one time years ago. The last thing he wanted was to seem unprepared in front of an admiral, so he wore his khakis as a precaution.

"Lieutenant Commander. Where are you headed?" asked the airline agent when she looked at his pins.

Impressed, he replied, "Dallas-Fort Worth."

She took his duffle, wished him a good flight, and then Bradley slept for the entire time he was in the air. Maybe you weren't the only one who was exhausted, because the nap seemed to do wonders for him. He woke up feeling rested, and just as soon as he sent a text letting you know he landed, he was off in search of a rental car.

To his absolute delight, all he had to do was ask nicely and flash his most charming smile, and he was handed the keys to a brand new, black Bronco. It was a model year newer than your red one back at home, and he was excited to scrutinize all of the little differences as he drove it around for the week.

"Don't like the lack of a car seat," he muttered, tossing his bag onto the backseat where he was so used to seeing Rose's infant carrier. 

Was he really that guy? Did he already miss his kid enough that he had to open up the photo gallery in his phone and scroll through a few pictures before he could drive away? Apparently he was, and it made him ache to be away from her. This was so much worse than going to La Jolla without his daughter, because right now, he had neither of you.

When his stomach started rumbling for dinner, he drove to the barracks and showed his identification, only to be told his room wasn't ready yet. So he went right back out to the Bronco in search of dinner. He knew the name of a tavern popular with officers in the area, so he typed it into his GPS and headed in the direction it told him. He had to laugh, figuring he was about to walk into the Lone Star version of the Hard Deck, but that's kind of what he wanted right now. Dinner somewhere that felt comfortable if not familiar.

"Oof." It looked like a dump compared to his bar at home, but it seemed popular, and he was hungry enough that it didn't matter. When he walked in, he took a quick survey of the space before grabbing an empty stool at the bar. He ordered your favorite beer and a sandwich and took his phone out, careful not to set it on the bar in case the owner was part of some sort of association along with Penny.

He tried reading an article, but he felt as though he was being watched. Bradley tried to ignore it, fairly certain he didn't know anyone on base here, but the feeling nagged at him while he ate. The twang of music playing on the jukebox was distracting, but not distracting enough. When he finished his food and wiped his mouth with a napkin, he picked up his bottle and drained the rest of his beer while he glanced around. 

Then he saw a young woman in a flight suit playing pool not too far from his spot at the bar. Her bright blue eyes were focused on his face, and her lips curled into a grin before she bent to sink her shot. Her patches told him she originated from Virginia Beach like he did, and that her call sign was Indigo. As Bradley turned, ready to sign his bill and leave, he saw her approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I help you?" he asked, turning her way again with one eyebrow raised. She was attractive, even up close, and he remained silent while her gaze traveled from his face down to his chest where his name tag was displayed. Then she gasped in delight.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," she said, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "All the way from Top Gun. I've been waiting to meet you for weeks, Sir."

------------------------------

Well, I hope BG is having a nice time at home without her husband. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[hard-core-super-star]

brought you together so nice [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!natasha romanoff x sub!reader x switch!wanda maximoff

summary: natasha takes care of you until wanda comes back. needless to say, the witch is more than happy about the arrangement you both came up with in her absence.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NO INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but even more feelings; mommy + daddy kink; slightly more established dom/dub dynamics; a dash of pet play (as usual); bondage; gagging; soft domme nat + bratty wanda!!!!; vibrator use [R receiving]; praise + degradation + a dash of humiliation; hair pulling; spanking; aftercare

wordcount: 4.1k

a/n: well, well, well...guess who got too attached to another series? yup, me 😅 these two have taken up more of my mind than i originally thought so here is part three of this little series. i don't have a plan to make another full part, but i might mess around and write a few blurbs here and there. we'll see what happens. anyway, thank you for all your support, especially regarding this little series. i'm thinking of opening my requests back up until the start of the new year so keep an eye out for that ;) [commissions are still more than welcome, though!] okay, i'll stop rambling for now, hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

Natasha could be sweet when she wanted to.

That was the first thing you learned after agreeing to become her and Wanda's submissive. 

The rules and details weren't too clear yet, the redhead promising to answer all your questions as soon as the Sokovian came back from her mission. Still, she did what she could to fill in the gaps of your knowledge, allowing you to ask her as many questions as you pleased before showing you, in great detail, what she meant.

Despite the cold exterior you'd learned to love, she was much softer with you than you'd ever imagined. Sure, she was still a mean domme at heart, but she wanted to show you heights of pleasure you'd never experienced before.

And she went to great lengths to guarantee it.

It quickly became clear to you how much she loved impact play. Even outside of play sessions, she would always come up behind you, landing a hard smack to your ass before pulling you into her arms. You didn't mind, even when she did it in front of the others.

(Although Tony did whistle at you guys once and promptly earned himself a punch to the stomach. He laughed it off but made sure to never tease the Widow about her behavior with you again.)

You knew there were a lot of things you didn't know or fully understand, but Natasha always seemed to find a way to make you feel more excited than nervous about it. It was almost funny how quickly her personality changed once she allowed you to see past her walls.

Sure, she was still a little mean and more than a little snarky (which is exactly how you liked her, if you were being honest) yet there was a softer, affectionate, side that started coming out more and more.

She told you it was simply because Wanda wasn't around and she wasn't allowed to "break you in" without her around. Maybe it was a silly excuse perfectly crafted to keep you on your toes, but you didn't really mind.

Well, except because you really missed Wanda.

Being without the witch was harder than you thought it would be, but the Widow kept you busy enough to forget the empty spot beside you in their bed.

Your bed.

That was the second thing Natasha made you learn. 

Yes, you were technically an addition to their relationship, but you weren't an outsider. You never were.

That was the third thing you learned.

Both Natasha and Wanda had their eyes on you from the very beginning. They loved each other, and their relationship made them happier than they could put into words, and yet they always felt something was missing. A third energy to keep them in check. To stop them from getting too rough, too mean with each other. To help remember how to be soft after spending so much time fighting with the world.

It was...strange, but you couldn't deny what they meant to you. The attraction you felt toward them had always been there and after Wanda opened that door...well, let's just say there was no going back.

You didn't understand how real that was until now.

Because somehow, someway, after carrying guilt you didn't even need to have in the first place, you were here.

You were theirs.

You were waking up in their bed with Natasha's arms wrapped tight around your waist.

A shudder ran down your body as the redhead's lips met your bare shoulder, peppering kisses across the skin. "Morning, detka. Sleep well?"

"Yeah," you reply as a smile forms on your face. "You're a fantastic cuddler."

"Shut up," she mumbles. There's a clear lack of annoyance in her words despite her attempts at sounding tough. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Your grip on me begs to differ."

At your response, her hands move to grip your waist, her nails digging into your soft skin. The sensation makes you gasp, your back arching almost instantly. You can feel the redhead smiling against your skin. It hasn't been that long and she already knows your body better than you do.

"Sorry, were you saying something?" She says, taking advantage of your reactions to grind against your ass. "You seem a little distracted."

 It's a bit of a cruel game but it's one she loves to play with you. Truth be told, she loves playing with you, period. You're so different from Wanda, so much more responsive, more honest about your constant neediness.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you mumble, not so subtly grinding back against her.

Just because you were slowly learning the rules regarding your place didn't mean you didn't love pushing Natasha's buttons whenever you could. Which really only happened in the mornings and during aftercare. Those were the only two moments when the older woman allowed herself to be soft with you, to let you see behind the walls she'd expertly put up to keep everyone out. Everyone except you and Wanda, it seems.

Her voice remains low, straddling the border between a tease and a warning. "Is my good girl trying to be a brat?"

Your heart skips a beat at her words. At the mention of being her good girl. Of being hers.

After the rough beginning your relationship had, you never thought you'd be let into her heart in any way. And yet here you are. You're her good girl, her kitten, her darling submissive.

"No..." You trail off, trying to decide whether to behave or push her buttons a little more. Ultimately, your desire to be a little shit wins out. "...Daddy."

Natasha chuckles behind you, her hands moving from your hips and toward your breasts. She gives them a soft squeeze as her thumbs tease your hardening nipples. "Oh, kotenok, you woke up cheeky this morning, huh? You know what mouthing off like that will earn you, right?"

You do know. She's told you many, many times before, usually while she's praising you for being so good for her and drawing out orgasm after orgasm from your overstimulated body.

However, she's never actually acted out any of her warnings. It's a good thing, you know that, and yet you can't stop yourself from wanting to see what it will feel like. To explore what that kind of submission will do to you.

"Yes, Daddy. I know."

She hums before going right back to kissing across your shoulders, nipping at your skin just to get you to arch into her teasing hands. "I see...you want to be punished, don't you? Want Daddy to remind you of your place until there's nothing else inside your mind?"

You're about to reply when you're interrupted by F.R.I.D.A.Y. "Miss Romanoff, Miss Maximoff has asked me to notify you of her return."

Your cheeks flush, even though the disembodied voice can't see what exactly you're up to this morning. At the very least, F.R.I.D.A.Y. is a lot less nosy than Jarvis ever was. Although, if you're being honest, you liked him better before he turned into a robot.

"I'm assuming she'll be at the Medbay for a while?" The Widow replies, her mind no doubt full of the things she'll do to you to pass the time.

"Yes, it seems she'll be there for the next half hour."

"Good. Thank you, Friday."

The AI doesn't reply and you can practically imagine her making a swift exit out of the room, leaving you to face whatever it is that the redhead has come up with.

"y/n..." Natasha purrs, her breath hot against your ear. "I have an idea. Why don't we give Mommy a nice surprise, hmm? Don't you want to be her pretty welcome back gift?"

You're not sure what being Wanda's "welcome back gift" will entail, but you can't deny your curiosity about it. Especially since the witch has no idea what you and her girlfriend have been up to. You have no doubt she has her suspicions, she is a mind reader after all, but it'll still be nice to surprise her.

You agree before you even know what you're doing, and Natasha wastes no time in springing into action.

In a matter of minutes, you go from lying comfortably under the covers to being spread out on your back, your limbs tied to each corner of the bed. You're exposed, vulnerable, and you love every second of it.

Of course, Natasha isn't satisfied with that. No, to top off the pretty sight you make, she places a deep, dark red ball gag between your lips. You shouldn't be surprised since, after all, you did ask for it.

"There we go," the redhead hums appreciatively, her eyes taking in the beautiful sight. "Now, just sit tight, okay, detka? I'll be right back."

You whine instantly, but she pays no mind to you, quickly making her way out of the bedroom and going to look for Wanda. You're not exactly happy about being left alone yet, there's nothing you can do. All you can do is throw your head back in frustration and wait for your lovers to return.

You're not sure how much time goes by, although there's no doubt in your mind that Natasha does her best to draw out their return just to mess with you, but eventually, they make their way back to you.

The sound of the door opening makes you practically vibrate with excitement, your hips wiggling from side to side without thinking.

"Well, would you look at that," Wanda says as she steps further into the room. "Looks like someone was having fun without me."

Natasha follows her in, standing behind her and wrapping her arms around her waist. There's something so domestic about the action that makes your heart clench.

"I had to get her ready for you, darling," the redhead replies as her chin finds the other woman's shoulder. "She looks good, doesn't she?"

"She sure does. I take it you worked out your issues?"

"We came to an...agreement, yes. I couldn't let you have all the fun."

Wanda chuckles, the corners of her mouth quirking up into a fond smile. There's no mistaking the fire in her eyes, though, the desire simmering below the surface. "And you said I was crazy for wanting her to join us."

The Widow grumbles, clearly not quite ready to admit her girlfriend was right. "You're still not off the hook, you let her believe you cheated on me."

"When are you going to let that go?"

"I'm not sure, maybe you should make it up to me."

Natasha's eyes remain on you but Wanda turns around, silencing her girlfriend's complaints with a fiery kiss. All you can do is watch, feeling left out and far too involved at the same time. You're slowly getting used to their competitive antics.

Their kisses turn desperate in nothing short of a few seconds, leaving you far too desperate and needy while you squirm around on the bed. They take their sweet time getting back to you, though, instead letting their hands wander over each other's bodies.

You'd love to complain but you're still gagged so talking is pretty much impossible. More than that...you can't say you're not loving the view. It makes you feel a little dirty, like you're watching an intimate scene you shouldn't be, and it brings a rush unlike anything you've ever felt before.

They know, because of course they know, and your obvious arousal only motivates them to tease you.

Natasha moves first, expert hands reaching for the hem of Wanda's shirt and lifting it over her head in an instant. "I missed you."

"Are you talking to me or my boobs?" The witch replies with a perfectly raised eyebrow.

"I'm talking to all of you."

"Nice save, 'Tasha."

"Shut up."

There's something comforting about the scene in front of you, even as your frustration builds. You've been with them before, but it's different this time. You can feel the change in energy, the easy chemistry that flows between all of you now that Natasha isn't trying to push you away.

"Come on, I think we've teased our good girl long enough," Wanda says, taking the redhead's hand and leading her toward the bed. "Isn't that right, sweetheart? You're feeling a little frustrated, hmm?"

You nod desperately in response, tugging at the rope that holds you down. Your actions only make both of your lovers chuckle.

"Look at her, she's drenched and we haven't gotten started yet," Natasha comments, her eyes trailing up and down your body like a predator assessing its prey.

"I'm guessing this means training's going well."

"She's a quick learner. A bit bratty sometimes, though."

The way they talk about you as if you're not a part of the conversation has you clenching around pure air. It doesn't help that the Widow is so accurate in her assessment of you. You love being submissive, being under their control, but you can't deny how much fun it is to disobey. To push against the boundaries she's set for you, not to defy her but to tease her. Maybe even test her a little.

It's far too fun.

"Is that right, sweetheart?" Wanda asks, even though your body language makes it clear how correct Natasha is. "I thought you liked being our good girl. Because if you don't, well...you know what happens to naughty girls, don't you?"

Of course you know. It was one of the first things the redhead taught you. Sure, the rules and terms weren't too fleshed out yet since Natasha had wanted her girlfriend to be a part of the whole exchange, but she'd gone over most things with you. Rewards, punishments, hard limits, all that stuff.

You're unable to tell the witch that, though, thanks to the gag in your mouth. Your incoherent mumbles seem to entertain her for a few seconds while Natasha sneaks off toward their closet.

Wanda's chuckle cuts through the air. Your attempts at convincing her you've been good clearly amuse her. "I know, baby, I know you like being good. Otherwise, Nat wouldn't be so attached to you."

"I'm not attached," the redhead grumbles.

A month ago, her words would have made your heart drop into your stomach. Now, though, you know she's only playing a part. She has no problem telling you how she feels outside of a scene, but when you're playing, when you're being their pet, she's right back to being mean. Right back to degrading you and humiliating you until you're riding the edge of pleasure and pain.

"Keep telling yourself that, darling."

"Oh, I will."

Their banter is borderline comforting. You've loved spending time with Natasha, but this, being with them and seeing their personalities come together, this is where you thrive.

Well, it's not like you're doing much. Then again, they like you most when you're like this. Vulnerable, at their mercy, and so obviously loving every second of it.

Wanda climbs onto bed with you, crawling over your body until she's hovering over you with a gentle smile that steals all your worries away. "'Tasha's such a liar, isn't she, sweetheart? It's okay, let her act like she's the big bad."

You want to laugh, but it's a little hard when she's leaning down to pepper kisses all over your face. The action is far softer than what you were expecting and it makes your heart soar.

You were ready for a rougher training session, for a trial run meant to show you what you had been missing in the witch's absence. But this? This is really good too.

Wanda continues her loving assault on your skin, trailing kisses down your jaw and toward your neck. You tilt your head back in response, earning a soft giggle muffled against your skin, as she kisses and nibbles all up and down your throat. There's no doubt in your mind that she's littering your skin with hickies and noticeable marks, but you find you really don't mind it.

The witch steals your attention long enough for Natasha to gather a few supplies before making her way over to you. You feel her set a few things down next to you, but you don't get to see what they are. Not that you really mind considering how busy your mind is.

"Stop hogging her attention, that's not very fair."

"It's not my fault you left her so fuzzy-headed. Poor girl didn't even stand a chance, huh?"

You shake your head, a few muffled whines making their way out of you.

Natasha chuckles as she shifts onto her knees next to you. Her hands find their way between you and Wanda's bodies, teasing your skin as she explores the territory she's spent the past few days claiming.

"Oh, please. This is nothing. You should've seen the state she was in last night."

The reminder makes you squirm in your restraints, trying to get closer to them to no avail. You know how desperate you look, how absolutely needy you are, but you can't find it in yourself to care. This is what you had been waiting for. To be completely theirs. To surrender to them and accept everything they were willing to give you. Sure, it was intimidating and yet it felt incredibly right.

"Are you trying to make me jealous?" Wanda responds, working her way down your body, expertly avoiding the areas where her girlfriend is touching you.

"You deserve it. Wasn't this your fantasy?"

"Maybe. It was hers first, though. Isn't that right, detka?"

The change in topic makes you blush. It shouldn't be surprising to hear that the witch had already known about your feelings for her but it's still a little embarrassing. At least she seems to enjoy it.

You nod, your movements slightly frantic and no doubt fueled by the feeling of her lips on your flushed skin. She takes her time dragging her lips up and down your inner thighs as Natasha teases your hardening nipples.

"Such a good little slut. I bet you're already so fuzzy. Just want your cunt played with and nothing else." The redhead distracts you with her words, leaving you completely unprepared for Wanda's continued assault.

You don't hear the thrumming sound of the vibrator coming to life, but you sure feel it against your sensitive clit. Your whole body shudders in response as your hips buck in a desperate attempt to escape the overwhelming sensation.

Your reaction makes the witch laugh and she leans down to press a few more kisses to your thighs. "There you go, that's what I like to see."

Her words feel more like humiliation than praise and yet you can't find it in yourself to care. Not when it feels so good that it borders on painful.

"Excuse you, we were having a little chat." Natasha's tease is coupled with a firm grip in your hair as she tilts your head toward her. "I'll have to train you if you don't fix that attention span, pet."

"Be nice, Nat, it's not her fault she likes me more."

"God, you're such a brat, Maximoff." Her free hand leaves your body to land a sharp smack against Wanda's ass. "I'll put you in your place too, if I have to."

The witch hums in response, very clearly pushing herself back against the redhead's hand. "You know I'd enjoy it."

Natasha spanks her again and the sight has you bucking your hips faster as you search for more pleasure. You let out a string of whines, already feeling yourself on the edge of an orgasm. It's a little embarrassing how quickly you're reaching your limit but in your defense, you've been worked up ever since you woke up. You were bound to lose from the beginning.

"Don't tell me you want to cum already, sweetheart? We've barely gotten started."

You want to defend yourself, but your attempts are instant failures. Natasha seems to get off on how pathetic you sound, though.

"It's alright, kitten, why don't you go ahead and cum for me? Mommy hasn't earned her reward just yet."

Wanda opens her mouth to object but she doesn't get very far since the redhead goes right back to spanking her.

You're not used to seeing the witch in a slightly more submissive position. She always seem to straddle the border between being fully in control and immersed below Natasha's dominance. This change of pace is more than welcome, though.

The vibrator gets pushed harder against your sensitive clit and the pressure sends you over the edge almost instantly. You don't get a chance to warn them, all you can do is give in to the sudden pleasure as your body trembles beneath them.

They're both distracted by the sight of your orgasm crashing into you so suddenly. So beautifully.

"What a good girl," Natasha murmurs appreciatively. "You could learn a thing or two from her, Wands."

"Whatever." You miss the way the witch rolls her eyes since your eyes are more than a little blurry and there's a soft ringing in your ears. "It won't be my fault when she forgets her place, Daddy."

That earns her another spank, but she's too busy moving the vibrator away from your drenched cunt to care. You whine softly at the loss of contact even though you feel far too sensitive to take much more.

Apparently, you look as out of it as you feel because the older women take a few moments to let you catch your breath.

Wanda's hands gently stroke up and down your legs to keep you grounded while Natasha shifts closer, her hands reaching out to undo the ballgag. "How are you feeling, kotenok? Do you want to keep going?"

Your throat's a little dry, but you manage to form a reply. "I'm okay. Just need to catch my breath."

The Widow nods before reaching over to grab the bottled water on the nightstand. She helps you take a few sips of water while Wanda continues to caress your skin, both giving you as much time as you need to recover. It's such a small thing and yet it's a reminder of why you're so attached to them. Why you need them more and more with every day that goes by.

Your relationship with them might have had a bit of a rough start, but you couldn't imagine a better outcome. Couldn't imagine two better people to surrender your heart to.

"Someone's in a romantic mood," Wanda pipes up with a soft smile.

Her words cause an instant response in you and you feel your face grow warmer by the second. "Why are you in my mind right now?"

"Because your thoughts about me are so loud," she replies almost instantly. "Don't look so embarrassed, detka, I think it's cute."

"Shut up," you mumble, momentarily forgetting where you are and what you're in the middle of doing.

Wanda's smile turns slightly dark and her hand comes down against your thigh before you can even think about what you did wrong. "Where'd your manners go, huh?"

The sensation makes you shiver, but Natasha reaches a hand out to stop the witch from smacking your thigh again. "Time out, darling. I don't think we're quite ready to keep going."

You want to argue with her and yet you make no real effort to. As much as you might want to keep going, you can't deny how overwhelming it all was...and how desperate you are for some cuddles.

"Sorry," you mumble.

Wanda instantly shushes you as she uses her magic to undo the restraints keeping you tied down. "Nonsense, you have nothing to apologize for."

The second your limbs are free, Natasha's hands are on you again. This time, though, she merely maneuvers you onto your side so she's able to slide in behind you. The second her arms wrap around your waist, your shoulders let go of the tension they've been holding. 

Wanda wastes no time in joining the two of you, laying down in front of you and reaching up to play with your hair. "Just relax, we have all day to pick up where we left off."

"Don't rush her, little witch."

Natasha's words make you chuckle and you lean forward until you're practically buried in the witch's chest. "I'm okay, guys. I don't break easily."

A beat of silence goes by as they allow you to soak in the afterglow, in the feeling of their embrace.

But the Widow really can't help herself.

"Are you sure? Maybe we should test that out."

Her words are a tease, but none of you can deny your curiosity...or your arousal.

Needless to say, you spend most of the day tangled up in their bed.

Your bed.

With the two women who mean the absolute world to you.

[curioussubjects]

How is there a throuple on prime time TV?And why are they the medical staff on a luxury cruise?

I'm still not sure how Doctor Odyssey is a real show that's airing every week and not some fever dream, but since it seems to be that it is a real show, here's why I think it's yet another medical procedural drama...and on a cruise!

While polyamory has become more widely acknowledged in the mainstream, it's hardly normalized or even common in both media and people's lives. Likewise, queer representation, especially that of bisexual men, is still far from being without controversy (if it's allowed to be represented at all, as Supernatural fans like myself well know).

So, again, how in the world is Doctor Odyssey, which very explicitly centers the developing sexual and romantic relationship between Max, Avery, and Tristan a thing that exists? Or, to put it another way: if we have a story that is unusual for most people and even uncomfortable for many of them, how can that story be told without alienating the audience?

The answer: tell it in a way that feels familiar, and maybe a little detached from reality. So, medical procedural drama on a cruise! Ok, let me explain:

Why a Medical Procedural Drama?

Not only has the the genre been a staple of American television since the 90s (thanks, ER), it's a type of story that is told in formulaic ways. It is, after all, a procedural. Both its familiarity and predictability allow the audience to sit back and enjoy the story unfold with its expected beats. This type of TV is meant to be fun and easy to watch. Such shows might give you some current issues beats to ponder as you watch, but they're not making you do a lot of work.

But why medical as opposed to law enforcement, which is a much more common type of procedural? Because, thanks to the legacy of shows like Grey's Anatomy and House MD., medical dramas have a lot more leeway to be dramatic AND unrealistic while somehow preserving the veneer of realism. It's this allowance for dramatics and breaches of realism that create a comfortable bubble of "sure this might as well happen" that prevents the audience from being alienate when faced with a wide variety of topics that can be as accurate or fantastical as the plot demands.

Polyamory, within this broader landscape, can be a Very Special Episode that just so happens to span every episode, and viewers can be carried through that plot by the familiar patterns and conventions of the genre.

Why on a Cruise?

Oh, aren't medical procedurals so cliché? How can we make it interesting?? I know, put them on a cruise! We haven't put doctors on a cruise yet! (totally 100% real conversation on ABC)

Sure, the cruise premise stinks of gimmick, but what if that's the point? Surely, most people would see a show like Doctor Odyssey and imagine that what makes it different is that it's set on a cruise. Yeah, that's not completely untrue, but the cruise serves a much more important purpose than being a differential on a pitch.

In fact, the cruise, like the medical procedural, is another liminal space that allows for multiple ways to engage in fantasy or reality as the plot demands. Mainly, and most crucially, though, the cruise is a bubble, an illusion, which is a point the show itself makes in the pilot episode. It is unmoored (heh) from the expectations of land, like accurate representations of healthcare, or say...monogamy as default. As such, the cruise makes not only for a dynamic choice of setting, but a very intentional one.

Reality Check:

The interplay between genre and setting is crucial. The audience, with all its expectations, of what a medical procedural drama is know what they're tuning in for, and they can easily imagine the dramatic (or ridiculous) nature of the cases that will be present in a luxury cruise. True enough, as I mentioned before, the pilot episode starts by being very honest that the cruise is an illusion: the captain shows and describes all the craft and skill that goes into creating a safe space for passengers to engage in fantasy. The genre savvy audience is then invited into aligning not with the cruise passengers, but with the crew.

Except Doctor Odyssey isn't really about the medicine, or the cruise, is it? It's about Max, Tristan, and Avery. So the audience is given a choice at the metanarrative level: be the passenger or be the crew. Be aware that the point of the story is the polyamory or tune in for medical staff...on a cruise! Win-win! What I think is fun and clever about all this is that no matter who you choose to align yourself with, you can't ever truly escape reality lurking in the wings. The polyamory is simply there no matter how resistant the audience, but the setting and the genre create a buffer around it.

Sure you can have a threesome on a cruise, it's like Vegas. No big. Nothing threatening to social conventions. It's not real. But reality has a way of reasserting itself: in the tragedies that befall the passengers on the ship, or their mishaps, or the cherished memories they'll look back on. And while the crew upkeeps the illusion, they aren't immune or completely separate from its effects (good and bad). No one can divest themselves from what they experience on the cruise and neither can the viewer.

Through genre convention and its setting, Doctor Odyssey (and I mean, look at this title alone lol) navigates the unfamiliar waters of accepting the richness of the human condition (to echo Captain Massey), and brings the audience safely to shore with a new understanding of what relationships can look like.

And this is how Doctor Odyssey managed to get produced and make it to air, and we get to be unhinged about Tristan, Max, Avery, and the YEARNING. Thanks for coming to my Ted Talk etc.

[zingaplanet]

hi, i adore your blog so much. <3. what are your thoughts on the state of fedal in 2024, especially as we approach (cries) rafa's retirement at davis cup?

Ergh I missed this one sorry! Although this might be prime timing considering what just happened during the retirement. I've been wanting to be as candid on this as possible for a long time and voice what all of their fans are thinking but I'm afraid I might cause quite some pain. So forgive me lovely tennisblr, here are just my two cents:

If you ask me what their relationship is like now, I've got to say I have no idea and I think that's a v telling answer. Fed retired end of 2022 and has been busy doing insane sponsor stuff for the whole year. He still showed up at tennis stuff (e.g., for Andy at Wimbledon, etc) but we can never tell how much engagement he actually has with the players anymore. Hence, even though he mentions Rafa a lot more often than others, I think we need to take it with a grain of salt here because the media sharks are simply pouncing on every opportunity to get a story from this too.

One thing I am quite sad about tho, is how everything after the mega publicised retirement ceremony seems to be a bit too PR-stunty. I get it, the rivalry was a big thing in the tennis world but with that photo going viral and winning all sorts of awards, being used in motivational sports speeches etc - it kinda transcends tennis now. Federer and Nadal have both always been bigger than tennis, but perhaps now that they are getting the attention together, it's getting a bit much.

When they mentioned each other throughout interview snippets all year, only sometimes do we get to see what's going on behind the scenes. Other times, from my perspective, it feels sadly like they have been media briefed after the whole whirlwind about how to make this as positive a press for them as possible without revealing too much. On this, I have to say, Federer is still a maestro - I have never seen an athlete with as much PR talent as him. I work a lot in comms and he is a simple branding wet dream, he says all the right words you want to hear, the same message in many different versions of sentences, but never actually reveals what's going on. Rafa used to be much more of a trainwreck early in his career but he has improved so much with age. He still sometimes, fascinatingly, slipped up tho, and seemingly only during Spanish interviews, when he's a lot more honest. In several of the Spanish tv and radio interviews he did this year, he seemed to hint that on the one hand, Federer is the only one he still speaks to regularly in tennis, but on the other hand, he gives a strange indication that they're not as close as they used to be?

I think it's quite predictable though. After Federer retired, they were now freer to build on the friendship without any of the rivalry hurdles - but at the same time, I think they didn't realise how much the intensity of the rivalry played such a central part in what made "them" special. It's such a push-pull enemies-friends delicate line they've been mastering how to tread all these years. It could be difficult to find footing now that tennis no longer binds them, and their initial obvious differences (you know, the "calm Swiss maestro - passionate Spanish fighter" kinda narrative) begin to show again. I don't necessarily think this means they can't connect without tennis ever again, it's just a bit like your school friends. When you graduate, you no longer have that connection of going to class together or hanging out during recess - but the truest bonds always survived, and after a few rough years, your good friends are still there.

If I'm honest, I think they are at the point where they're a bit unsure what to do with one another but might be forced to play a bit of a part as the media has lumped them "the eternal rivals turned friends fairytale". I honestly feel like the media and public interests might have made it a bit awkward between them. You can see a little bit in their PR stuff - Rafa namedropping Fed a little and sometimes a bit tired when he constantly got asked about Federer in his post-match pressers recently, and Roger doing stuff like the letter. The letter is v generous, heartwarming, and such a loving tribute - and I have no doubt he wrote it himself but it's a v public thing that would've and could've landed better just being delivered in person directly? Or perhaps in a speech for him. But the whole social media stuff seems a bit fishy.

Of course we all don't know what he did or didn't do privately, the same goes to whether this is all really true or they are both just v busy dealing with a big change in their lives (Fed newly retired doing a gazillion sponsor stuff and travelling the world, Rafa dealing with a career ending injury and retirement) - they might simply not have the headspace --or even want-- the other to be such a significant part of their lives at the moment, as these two new things they are experiencing are something uniquely theirs.

The retirement ceremony is a whole other story I could write lots of paragraphs about (don't encourage me!). But I think if we learn something this year, I think it's that athletes unequivocally deserve personal space, and we should never meddle with their personal lives too much.

For the first time in their lives, they will now be fully retired, out of the limelight, able to enjoy all the things we take for granted (like travelling anonymously! or trying out restaurants in new cities)! It's what they deserved after giving us 20+ years of blood, sweat, emotion, and passion on the court and in the limelight. They both owe us nothing. I think if they both disappeared from the spotlight next year (albeit unlikely) or decided to just grow their friendship in private and never appear publicly together again - that is completely their right. We can only show them support and thank them for all the amazing things they did to make our childhood and our lives so wonderful.

[3gremlins]

i started another rook and i really didn't intend to make them so "i want that twink obliterated" but uh my hand slipped XD

this is björn ingellvar* (they/he, but sadly the game doesn't let you use mixed pronouns so i just use they/them in game) which just means bear and i realize they're not terribly bear like in appearance, but i think i'll rp it in personality more (ill be honest i liked the sound of it mostly and it had a meaning i can work with). Ingellvar was hard to pair with (i did consider making them a grey warden but i didn't vibe with thorne just yet and the mournwatch aspirational armor is kinda neat) Anyway they're a mourn watch warrior and so far a little more diplomatic/charismatic than my crow rogue rook. I had sort of thought to either romance bellara or emmerich this time round, but now i'm considering neve (trying to make myself make different choices! still an elf but eh). it's weird b/c when i started my other rook i didn't like any of the voices other than erika ishii's for them and this time i gravitated to one of the masc ones instead. so funny how characters shape themselves a bit, it's like oh this came together this way and now this voice is the one that is right. *various DA reddit threads suggested that nevarra is partially prussian inspired which does track with emmerich being an old german name. I spent several hours pouring through old german names which do also have a lot of cross pollination with various scandinavian names on several name etymology websites. Technically the german variant would be bjoern but whatever.

early thoughts on warrior: it feels a lot more underpowered than rogue from the outset. The weapon type swapping is a lot more awkward- rogue just uses r2 on controller to swap between knives and bow which feels really natural and fluid (and how a lot of other modern rpgs work, so you expect it). The war/mage use the d-pad to swap and it's just not as good of a feel (tho it is an interesting choice? the warrior swaps between sword & board and two handed, and mage swaps between staff and knife w/orb). i was def a bit like oh am i screwed, do i not get a ranged attack? but you sort of do (i think it would have been fine if war had arrows but i can see why they wanted to make it different) I like the idea of the captain america shield throw, but having to charge it up feels kind of bad (esp coming from the rogue where you just shoot your bow until you run out of arrows). Would have been better to have the shield throw just do something like that. (started towards the mourn watch tree and the shield throw is feeling better but wish it was better out of the gate you know?)

blocking is also a lot more important to the war kit and i'm bad at it (didn't really need to do it on rogue, just dodge quickly a lot) so we'll see if i can even stick to this. i don't want to block things except with my head, game. warrior also doesn't feel especially tanky per se, idk. doing this one on adventurer mode again but might turn it down (tbh rogue felt so op at the end there, i prob could have turned up the difficulty and been okay. maybe another future rogue rook if i'm ever feeling like a challenge ). i'm intrigued by the specializations (esp reaper i think) and i do think it'll get more fun as i unlock more skillz, but out of the gate a little clunky (i also started a mage rook and they also feel a bit weak compared to rogue. might like war more than mage for once??).

>>>> 2nd pt endgame knowledge spoilers behind cut!!! do not click if you haven't finished the game at least once! <<<<

playing this a second time and knowing everything you can actually spot the Varric CLUES early. There's a point where you're talking to solas in that first fade convo and he actually cuts himself off from saying that varric is dead, like you get the TINIEST hint of the "de" before solas elongates it into it a "is good at his own half truths".

also in conversations with harding her palpable sadness hits harder and her dialogue makes a lot more sense. When neve comes into the recovery room to talk to you the first time (i think it's whoever was injured?), she doesn't even look at varric and talks over him a teeny bit too. It's really subtle, they did a good job of laying clues you wouldn't catch unless you knew (at least for me, idk maybe yall were onto them sooner lol)

[hephaestuscrew]

I have such emotional thoughts about Ep40 Limbo and Minkowski telling Eiffel "I'm sorry, okay? I didn't want it to matter. I was trying to make it not matter." It's such an insane thing to say about learning without any context or detail that your friend and crew member was convicted of kidnapping and child endangerment.

It's one thing to learn that someone did something awful and not to care because you don't care about them or their morals (the SI-5 approach). It's another thing to learn that someone did something awful and not to care because you can empathise with them and it's who they are now that matters (the Hera and Lovelace approach). And it's an entirely different thing to learn that someone did something awful and to want desperately not to care but to be unable to stop yourself from caring.

When there was no specificity to Eiffel's tragic backstory, Minkowski successfully made it not matter. Back in Ep15 What's Up Doc?, when Hilbert was hinting at Eiffel's secret that he wouldn't want Minkowski to know about, she trusted him with no "hesitance or doubt". In principle, on an abstract intellectual level, his past doesn't matter to her. But as soon as she has some of the specifics, her ability to trust him without question is shaken, because that trust isn't just about the abstract intellectual level. It's emotional too.

Eiffel really matters to Minkowski, so of course she doesn't want what she learned about his past to change that. But part of what matters to Minkowski about Eiffel is that she trusts him, that she believes that he does the morally right thing when it counts, and that he's the kind of person she thinks he is. The particular way in which he matters to her, when combined with her personality and her values, means that the bad things he's done in the past have to matter to her too. Because the way in which he matters to her is tied up in her sense of him as an ultimately moral person, the spokesperson of Team What's Wrong With Handcuffs.

In typical Minkowski fashion, she wants to make herself not care about it through sheer stubborn power of will. Maybe if she doesn't speak to him, she can pretend she doesn't know. Maybe if she pretends she doesn't know, she won't think about it. Maybe if she doesn't think about it, it won't matter to her. Maybe if it doesn't matter to her, then she can rebuild her idea of him as a good person on her own and she won't ever have to talk to him about it. But three months roll by, and it still matters to her. It still matters to her, and she still wants it not to.

[ranoutofficssoiwritemyown]

You decide to sleep on the couch after an argument

love and deepspace

characters: Zayne, Sylus (pt2 with Rafayel and Xavier here)

note: they might be a little mischaracterized so bear with me.

Zayne

Usually, arguments with Zayne don’t get this heated. There was no yelling, not on his part at least, but he could be really cold with his words when he wanted to be. Not that you were any better. Some things you said hurt him to no end. So you came up with a decision - to sleep on a couch tonight. To be honest, it was more because to be petty, than not wanting to spend a night beside him. You gathered your pillow and blanket and got comfortable on the couch, which made Zayne sigh out loud when he entered the room.

“What is this?”

You turned your back to him as an answer. Another sigh comes out of his mouth. He’s exhausted, physically and emotionally, and you acting like a brat doesn’t ease anything at all.

“I know you’re mad, dear but is this necessary?”

No answer.

“Alright”

He left the room and before you could convince yourself that you didn’t care he was back with a blanket of his own and took a seat in an armchair. You turn your head towards him in confusion.

“What are you doing?”

“I guess we’re not sleeping in bed tonight”

“I’m not. You can go”

“I believe I didn’t stutter”

You scoffed and turned around again.

“suit yourself”

Minutes pass and sleep doesn’t come to you. Whether it’s because of an uncomfortable couch or an absence of his arms around you is hard to say, but after turning around thousands of times and still not being able to sleep is frustrating.

Finally, Zayne had enough of watching your struggle.

“How about we go to bed?”

“No” came your response after a second of hesitation. With a small amused smile on his face, he hovered over the couch.

“What do you say… I take you to bed and you can curse me out for it tomorrow?”

You shifted a little but didn’t answer, which made his smile widen. He gathered you in his arms and your lack of objection was all he needed to take you to your room and tucking you in bed. Even though you seemed to warm up he didn’t know how far he could push you, so kneeling beside the bed to be on your eye level he started:

“If you still need space I can-”

“Stay”

He smiled at you tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Okay”

He got up and kissed your forehead before slipping in beside you and pulling you closer.

"I'm sorry..." you mutter

"Shh, we'll talk about it tomorrow... but I'm sorry too"

You smile a little. You two will sort this out tomorrow.

Sylus

What Sylus says, goes around. His word is the law. This is what he’s used to. That's how it's always been.

Then you came into his life and even though he’s still in charge of how things go in the N109 zone, you just need to say the word and everything will be how you like it. No questions, no hesitation. He would give you the world if you so much as whispered the need. Whatever you want, whatever you need, he will make it happen.

Unless, when it comes to your safety. Now don’t get me wrong. Sylus knows you can defend yourself and then some. But when it comes to the N109 zone, there are things Sylus knows better than you. Additionally, The fact that you can be reckless in your battles does nothing to help ease his worries.

That was the reason for the heated argument tonight. Sylus with his harsh words and snarky remarks always finds a way to infuriate you. So you two go on and on for half an hour now and none of you seems to back down. You storm off to your room and take your things to get comfortable on the couch. However, on your way out Sylus blocks your way. He raises an eyebrow at the blanket and pillow in your arms.

“Now, what exactly do you think you are doing, sweetie?”

“move”

“I asked you a question”

“I’m not sleeping beside you- Sylus” you exclaim as he hoists you over his shoulder. you punch and scratch his back but to no avail.

“Careful with your claws, kitten”

He drops you on the bed climbing over you.

“Now listen, this is what will happen. You will stop acting like a wild kitten and sleep beside me. I am sorry for hurting you but we will discuss it tomorrow, when we are both a lot calmer. Understood?”

You don’t want to give in so easily. You also don’t want to sleep without him tonight. So you nod avoiding eye contact. He, however, doesn’t accept it and raises your chin with his finger to make you look at him.

“Use your words, sweetie”

“Yes”

“Splendid” He removed himself from you so you could get under the blanket. He laid beside you and pulled you closer so your head was resting on his chest.

"Sy... I'm sorry too"

"So I'm Sy now?"

This man.

"Nevermind, you're still a prick"

You try to remove his arm but he holds you tighter as he laughs.

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry, sweetie"

You felt him kiss the crown of your head as he caressed your shoulder with his thumb. you return to your previous position and listening to his heartbeat, sleep lured you in soon enough.

[moonlight-prose]

smut prompt #8 for logan 👀💗

forty five minutes in the closet

a/n: not me literally writing this in right where you left me ch4. hilarious and iconic timing, because i was fighting the urge to just have them fuck full on in that closet. so here's my chance to do just that. for funsies i'm shoving it into that universe. do not look at me for using that gif. i literally can't deny myself the sight.

summary: an alternative scene to what really happened in that closet.

OR wade wilson forces logan to play seven minutes in heaven. (it was longer than seven minutes if we're being honest.)

word count: 2.6k+

pairing: logan howlett x f!reader

warnings: EXPLICIT SO MINORS DNI, exhibitionism, dirty talk, logan is filthy af and we love that, spit, fingering sort of, p in v sex, quickie, rough sex, biting, he's down bad for his honey what can i say, panty gag, a formal apology for how fucking horny and unhinged this is.

The closet felt smaller than intended—even as your back was pressed to the wall hard enough to feel the cracks in the drywall that stretched to the ceiling. Laughter filtered through the thin wooden door as Wade told yet another joke about shit you couldn't discern. Even if you asked him to explain, you'd still be confused come morning.

Logan leaned heavily against his side of the closet. Approximately two feet of space between you. The tips of your shoes touched his boots. The faint scent of cigar smoke still lingered from where he ripped it out and tossed it in an ashtray. You wouldn't have cared if he smoked in here. You might have asked for a puff.

He insisted on keeping the air clean in case you had to breathe.

Wade claimed you were playing seven minutes in heaven. Seven minutes of alone time with the man who made your head spin. In a proximity close enough to feel the heat of his body from where you stood. Although you'd been standing there for four minutes (you were keeping count via the watch on Logan's wrist) and the group seemed to have forgotten about the both of you entirely.

"Do you—um—know what usually happens here?"

A smile curved on his lips—eyes scrutinizing you with a look that told you he was teasing you. "Yeah. I do. I'm old, not stupid."

"I just wanted to make sure..." In a swift move you barely saw, he rose to his full height and crossed the invisible line holding the two of you on opposing sides. "Oh–"

"Honey." His voice was low, yet you felt as if he was screaming in your ear.

"Yes?" you breathed—eyes fixed on the way his chest took up your space. His flannel was stretched across it and for a moment you wondered if you started salivating at the sight.

"Are you nervous?"

Another raucous round of laughs broke through the darkness that surrounded you. But you could barely hear them over the echo of your own heart. It hammered loudly against your chest—quickening the closer he got. The more his large frame began to engulf you in a warmth you only dreamed of. You clamored to come up with a response, to flippantly push off his advance with a tease of your own.

His hands pressing on either side of your head to the wall behind you killed every ounce of bravery you had left. All your worries and thoughts about what lay on the other side of that door were extinguished. Logan leaned down, his nose brushed yours, and inhaled deep enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

"I can smell you," he rumbled. "Sweet like honey."

A searing heat built beneath your skin, burning from your cheeks down to the tips of your toes. Your mouth opened—words still fighting to be formed—but he didn't need an answer. Not when he could smell the arousal that pooled between your thighs. How you subtly shifted to find a bit of friction in the hopes of something more.

"You mind if I kiss you bub?"

A piece of you fractured in the darkness of that closet—settling comfortably in his own chest. You might ask for it back after all of this, but Logan felt his chances of you walking out as his were growing the longer this went on.

Glancing up—eyes wide and darkened with lust—you bit back the whine that crawled up the back of your throat. "They'll hear us."

He shrugged, shifting close enough for you to almost taste the whiskey off his lips. "Good."

"Logan–"

Lips pressed to your cheek, drawing a soft sigh from your parted mouth. "Somethin' tells me they're just waiting for it." His hand left the wall to trail along your waist, dipping slowly with a kiss to the corner of your lips. "And somethin' also tells me...you like that idea."

It's not as if you were entirely opposed to the idea. Actually most nights (if not every night) was spent with you imagining what it would be like to feel him this way. To be stretched with his cock so much you would feel a delicious burn.

You craved it.

He knew solely from the wanton look on your face. The way your eyes fluttered the further his hand went.

"You gonna let me in or what honey?" he cooed, fingers dipping beneath your skirt to seek out the slick that soaked the lace of your underwear.

Surely the seven minutes had run out, leaving the both of you to make a choice. Stay here and keep going for everyone to catch you. Or walk out, find a room, and continue this in private.

The thought of waiting a second longer snapped at your heels with an air of impatience you let consume you. What the fuck did it matter if they heard you getting fucked against the wall? What did it matter if you'd never live this down as long as you lived?

How could you actually think about shame when Logan's fingers were pressed against your dripping cunt, seeking out your clit through the thin fabric that divided you.

Sagging against the wall with a soft moan, you gripped his flannel in your fist and yanked his lips to yours. He groaned, falling into your body and effectively pinning you to the wall, as his tongue met yours. And suddenly you realized...you liked how whiskey tasted off of his tongue.

He devoured you with the kiss, swallowing each moan and stunted whine as his fingers made quick work of finding your clit. Rubbing quick circles, he plunged his tongue into your mouth - licking at your teeth with a fervor that seeped down into your stomach. It was messy. His spit mixed with yours, staining the skin of your cheek. Your slick coated the inside of your thighs as he pushed the fabric into you roughly.

Yet none of it felt enough to ease the ache that spread rapidly down to the tips of your fingers. Your heart twisted as he gripped the back of your neck—leading you in a kiss that divulged down to nothing but teeth and spit.

You wrapped an arm around his shoulders, your leg hooking around his hip, in the hopes of dragging him closer. To feel the hard bulge against the rough denim of his jeans.

"Look at you," he mumbled against your cheek. "All pretty and leakin' for me."

A sharp burst of need pulled tight at your stomach—the breath torn from your lungs. "Inside–"

He smiled. "C'mon honey. Use that smart head of yours. Gimme some words."

His words were a brutal tease that scraped against your skin. Yet that coupled with his fingers that seemed to hold an edge of desperation, left you gasping for air. Fingers dug into his shirt, lips found his in the hollow darkness, and you begged for mercy. This was your penance. The altar he intended to bend you across.

Oh how you longed for him to follow through.

"Fuck me," you managed to get out between sharp intakes of breath and heady kisses. "Please Logan. It hurts.

The sound that emanated from deep in his chest could only be described as feral. You'd never heard him like that before. Bordering on the line of unhinged and sanity. A flare of want pulled at your body, echoing loudly in your chest.

You wanted to hear it again. To feel him break beneath your palms as he rutted into you with need. You ached to watch him whittle himself down to the barest of his senses. The animalistic urge of lust he kept hidden for weeks on end.

"Yeah?" His words were a snarl against your ear, teeth scraping your jaw as he ripped his hand away. "'M gonna make it better. Gonna take away the pain."

Nails scratched at the back of his neck when you heard his claws slide out—cutting through the fabric that clung to you. It was sopping wet; proof that you hadn't in fact been lying about your need. Logan felt his cock leak in his jeans at the sight—how your slick clung to his fingers as he swiped along the gusset.

"All for me," he sighed.

"Uh-huh." If you thought you sounded needy before, that was nothing compared to this moment.

He eyed you briefly. The hazel you'd grown fond of now dark and clouded with lust. The plea for more lay on the tip of your tongue—ready to be laved against his skin the longer he took. But then he brought the fabric to his mouth, his tongue running across it with a broken groan. The breath was punched from your lungs—legs shaking as a wave of slick poured out of you.

"Oh fuck–" you gasped, cupping his chin to catch his lips in a kiss.

The clink of his belt buckle echoed like a gunshot in the small space. Your heart began to race. Fingers shaking as you watched him tug his cock free; fisting the red and leaking tip with a throaty moan. Saliva filled your mouth at the mere thought of him sliding between your lips. The image of him feeding you his cock with a smile.

He fanned the flames of your simmering fire, offering you pleasure with ease.

His hand gripped your other leg, positioning it over his hip before pushing you up along the wall. The yelp was muffled by his lips; your hands finding purchase against his hot skin.

"Gotta be real quiet now bub," he mumbled, sliding his cock along your drenched cunt.

The head tapped against your clit once, twice. By the third time your teeth were dug into your bottom lip so hard copper burst on your tongue.

"I promise."

He chuckled, breathless. You joined.

The compact space stretched out before you, expanding with each joined breath and laugh. Passion intertwined in your chest, reaching for him with a tender touch of reverence. And nothing existed but the two of you.

"Hey Logan."

His cock jumped at the sound of your voice so light and airy. "Yeah honey?"

"If I don't tell you after this." Your hips canted into his, grinding towards where he positioned himself. "I had a really nice time tonight."

His heart fluttered as your words settled into his skin—soaking up your warmth. "Me too."

The laughter diminished the second he pushed forward, sliding into you with a slickened thrust that left his body shuddering. You swallowed the sob that wrenched from your chest when he kept going. Stretching you until you felt the burn begin to seep into your body. You weren't prepared for how addicting it felt; how mindless he made you.

Seven minutes had surely blended into fifteen, giving the group no doubt of what you were doing. That only solidified when he bottomed out and you moaned so loud it nearly gave him a heart attack. His fingers clamored for something in his pocket—his lips sliding against yours to silence the endless whimpers. He filled you until you saw white behind your eyes each time they fluttered closed.

"They're gonna hear ya," he muttered. You caught a flash of lace before it was being pressed to your lips—willing you to part them and hold the fabric between your teeth.

Logan gave you one minute to find your brain in the muddled thoughts that filled you, before pulling out. Only to slam back in. Your cry was muffled—eyes rolled back—and he felt a searing triumph begin to form in his chest. At the sight of you in a messy state of bliss.

His hips slapped against yours, the wet slide of your cunt a loud echo. Adding to the symphony of his groans and your whimpered sounds. Your spit soaked into the lace, fingers digging hard along the planes of his back, and he felt you gush at the feel of his teeth sinking into your neck.

"So fuckin' sweet for me," he grunted, cupping your ass to push you back and forth on his cock. A shift in the angle had you going dumb. Eyes wide and glazed with tears. "My pretty girl huh?"

Fuck you wanted to scream. You longed to hear his name bounce off the closet walls and spill into the foyer of Wade's damn apartment. To remind them that time was still passing and their limit had reached the vastness of infinity.

He pounded into you with sharp gasps of praise, words that fell on ears deafened by the rush of blood that ran right to your head. Oxygen felt secondary when his cock kissed the wall of your cunt with such accuracy it left you blinded. Enough to have you sobbing into the spit soaked lace - tears spilling down your cheeks.

"You take it like it was fuckin' made for you yeah?"

You nodded, breasts bouncing as he fucked you along his cock—his other hand pressed to the wall. You took it like it was made for you, because it was made for you. Logan belonged to you. Whether he knew it now or not.

"I can feel you squeezin' me," he gasped. "Gonna cum?"

"Mhm," you mumbled, the squelch of your cunt loud enough to block out the laughter from the outside.

"Then do it honey." His thumb found your clit, swirling it with sharp pointed circles. Your toes curled in your shoes—head falling back to the wall with a soft thud. "That's it. Fuckin' cum for me."

"Mmff–" A sob of what morphed into his name tore from the depths of your body. Rendering you a shaky mess in his arms as you clamped down around his cock.

Slick poured out of you, coating the hair along the base of his stomach in your essence. Logan growled at the sight. His eyes narrowed and teeth bared with each stunted thrust of his hips into yours. Claws punctured the drywall behind you as a way to keep his body level. To ground himself as he came with a hoarse groan he quickly muffled into the top of your breast.

Grinding into you, he emptied himself entirely. Rope after rope of his spend now filling you to the point of dripping down to his balls.

You felt the need to drop to your knees and taste him.

To clean him entirely and place him neatly back in his jeans. But the movement of your body no longer remained an option—your legs numb and back sore from being pounded into the wall.

He removed the gag with a huff, kissing you gently with his thumbs pressed to the tops of your cheeks. A soft caress. A contract to the rough way he manhandled you.

"I can't feel my legs," you sighed into his mouth, tongue swiping along his bottom lip.

"You're not supposed to." The weak slap to his chest had him laughing louder than intended.

"Don't worry. Wade won't notice if you carry me."

He groaned, his teeth scraping at the flesh of your breast. "Don't fuckin’ say his name or I won't be able to fuck you again tonight."

You giggled, running your hands through his mussed hair. "Whiskey dick?"

"Shut up–"

"He's told you–"

Lips sealed over yours, hips pushing yours until the sigh stuttered from your chest. "Don't fuckin' start honey."

You smiled into the kiss. "Or you'll finish?"

A thump rammed against the door, startling the both of you. You half expected it to swing open and expose Logan with his jeans down to his knees and his softened cock still inside you. But all that came through was Wade's laughter—his knuckles rapping on the wood.

"Did he rise babygirl?" he shouted much to the detriment of the group who booed behind him.

"I will cut you open through the door!" Logan snarled. A triumphant laugh rattled the walls as Logan lowered you to the ground. Only for Wade to get the last official word.

"HE ROSE!"

[uronlywon]

I'M NOT HIM - s.jy ( 심재윤 ) ; drabble ➤ an attempt to get over your ex . . .

pairing .ᐟ best friend!jake x afab!reader

contains .ᐟ dom!jake, mention of heeseung as an ex, jealous jake !!

warnings .ᐟ MINORS DNI, smut smut smut, porn with little plot, slight dubcon, pet name use (baby, good girl), little blindfold use, skin biting/sucking, mentions of mark making, unprotected sex (use protection pls), oral (fem rec), creampie, let me know if i missed something !

vee's note .ᐟ first drabble? it's more like a scenario but idrk... i'm afraid that this might be really terrible but i need some sort of filler while i continue to write bittersweet, which might i say, is taking forever.

wc .ᐟ [ 1.4k ]　　other works . . . masterlist ; read more !

YOU HAD JUST BROKEN UP WITH YOUR EX, LEE HEESEUNG.

To be honest, you kind of saw it coming, but it still painfully hurt you, you two had been together for almost 2 years. You caught him cheating on you with another woman in your shared bedroom, which you found absolutely disgusting.

If you weren’t going to be with Heeseung anymore, who else would satisfy you as good as him?

Maybe your best friend can; Jaeyun.

So you showed up at his place, holding nothing but a blindfold in one of your hands.

You quickly found your back pressed into the soft mattress of Jaeyun’s bed. Clothes were discarded all over the ground, the blindfold tied around your head.

For a few minutes now, he had peppered your neck with plenty of kisses, leaving a couple of red and purplish marks in his tracks. He suckled on your perky nipples, taking one in his mouth whilst his fingers flicked and twisted the other, stifling a soft moan out of you. It baffled him how pretty your breasts were, perfect curves topped with rose-coloured buds.

He continued to nip at your plush skin, from your jaw to your collarbone, painting you with his mouth as if you were his masterpiece in the making. You looked so pretty under him like this, even though you can’t see him.

After getting enough of your neck and chest, Jaeyun flipped you over onto your stomach, the sudden gesture startling you. With the blindfold on, it was hard to tell what things were going to happen next.

Jaeyun took his hard cock into his hand, pumping it a few times before bringing it to meet with your soaked pussy. He decided to ditch the condom, you never mentioned anything about it anyway. You could feel him prodding at your entrance, immense desire growing as you wiggled your hips closer to him, “Hmn-.. Please, hurry..” You whimpered out.

“Eager are we?” Jaeyun teased, a small chuckle escaping from his lips, “Good girls have patience. You’re a good girl, aren’t you?” He asked, voice almost completely oozing with lust.

You don’t respond.

Your brain was entirely clouded with just desperation that you could only let out another whimper.

A smirk forms on Jaeyun’s face. He never thought he would have his best friend, on his bed, spread open for him to use. He’s always had a tiny crush on you, he won’t deny that.

With Jaeyun’s cock already lined up with your pleading hole, he began to slowly let his length sink into you and oh man, was he big. The little moans he drew out from you only fueled him more, the desire to ruin you only becoming stronger.

Not long after, he bottomed out, his whole dick sitting deep and snug inside of you. “Fuck, Y/n, so tight for me,” He muttered, whilst beginning to thrust himself in and out of you slowly to get you adjusted to his size. Your cute tiny noises only grew louder.

“Mmf— More, please-” You begged, hands mindlessly grabbing the bed sheets beneath you, grip tightening until your knuckles were almost sure to lose their colours. “S..So good! Heeseung!—”

Heeseung?

Right. Maybe Jaeyun should’ve known better. You weren’t here for him, you were here for yourself.

And you wouldn’t be here right now if your precious boyfriend didn’t cheat on you.

You would be fucking with Heeseung instead.

With his jaw clenched, Jaeyun fucked into your went cunt faster and harder, the sound of both of your skins slapping against each other filled the lustful atmosphere. “Ignore it,” He thought to himself, trying not to think too much about it. All that mattered now was your pleasure and not his feelings.

Whilst fucking into you, he let his hands trail to the soft skin of your waist, his hands wrapping around your small middle, giving it a harsh squeeze in the process. “More.. More, more! Hee!” You chanted, the pleasure you were currently receiving clearly not enough for you. 

Hee.

It was getting harder for Jaeyun to keep his composure, the way you called out for Heeseung when he wasn’t even there, the constant ‘Heeseungs’ and ‘Hees’ clearly starting to irritate him. He used one of his hands to effortlessly spread legs wider for him to gain more access, then he proceeded to thrust into you whilst keeping himself in check. “Fucking.” Thrust! “Ignore.” Thrust! “It.” Thrust!

Your body began to grow limp, and you felt a familiar knot forming in your tummy, just waiting to burst. “Ah- ‘m so close!” You exclaimed, trying to chase your orgasm by rocking your hips at the same pace as Jaeyun’s.

“Yeah? Y..You’re close?” Jaeyun panted out, it was obviously a rhetorical question. “You like this cock this much, huh? Gonna come for me like a good girl, aren’t you?” He continued, stringing out more questions and praise.

It took all of your remaining consciousness to muster out a singular sentence. “Mhm! Hah— ‘mma come for you like a- g..good girl..,”

“Whose good girl?”

Was that a stupid to ask? Yes. Jaeyun knew he wasn’t the one you longed for, but he still had a slither of hope lingering in his head.

“Yours! Hee- Heeseung’s good girl!”

Wrong answer.

Then everything happens so quickly. Before you know it, you’re flipped onto your back again, blindfold ripped off your face as well as you pending orgasm. You no longer felt his dick inside of you, leaving you clenching on air. “What the fuck?!–”

When you take in everything that just happened, your eyes engulf your surroundings. The purple LEDs, how humid the room is and—

And…

Jaeyun.

Before you got the chance to say anything at him, or get upset at him for ruining the moment, he suddenly thrusted back into you, making you jolt. Then a series of words started to come out of his mouth. “God, Y/n.. Please, stop calling out to that fucker.” Jaeyun began, ‘that fucker’ referring to Heeseung. 

“Jae—”

“No. Listen.” He cut you off, obviously not done saying everything he intended to. He proceeded to speak whilst bucking his hips to meet yours, groaning softly. “Can’t you just accept it, Y/n?”

Accept what?

“Like- Can’t you just accept Heeseung doesn’t want you anymore? I mean, he cheated on you for fuck’s sake.”

Wow. You never expected somebody to ever say those words to you whilst they were fucking the shit out of your cunt.

“Please!” He beseeched, growing vulnerable as his thrusts picked up in pace. “Accept that—”

“I’m not him.”

The three words do something to you. Seeing your best friend at your mercy was not something that was very common, even though he held the most power in your current situation. But you couldn’t muster out a proper response, due to the sensation of being fucked into by him.

The way Jaeyun’s hips worked magic was dizzying you, or maybe it was the fact you just got edged?

Soon enough the pleasure was too much to bear, pleasure pricking at the corner of your eyes as your awaited orgasm approaches you. “Jaeyun!–” You called out, and you called out his name.

“Yeah, baby..? Fuck, say it again- Say my name again.” Jaeyun asked desperately, his own name rolling off your tongue pleasing him.

“J…Jaeyun! ‘m close- let me cum, please!”

Oh, he was gonna let you cum. If you answered correctly this time.

“Whose- good girl are you, huh?”

Panting, you make eye contact with him, the purple LED lights illuminating his face. Damn, you never realised how fucking attractive your own best friend actually is. Your eyes flutter in exhaustion, and he smirks at you.

“Yours..”

“Can’t hear you.” 

“Yours!”

Jaeyun’s hand comes up to your tummy as he continues to snap into you. He rests it on top of your abdomen before progressively applying pressure. “Who’s ‘yours’, hm?.”

The pressure on your lower stomach only adds up to your awaiting orgasm, each thrust bringing you closer to it. “Fuckfuckfuck! Jaeyun!- Gonna cum—”

“I know, baby. I know.” He grunted, drawing his cock in and out of you even faster, chasing both of your highs, getting sloppier by the minute. “C’mon baby, say it. Who’s ‘yours’? Whose good girl are you?”

You’re almost there. So, so close to cumming.

“J-Jaeyun’s good girl!” You exclaimed, loudly.

The smirk displayed on Jaeyun’s face only widens, “Good girl.” He muttered out, completely satisfied. “Shhii.. Cum with me, baby—” He moaned out, head throwing back as he chased both of your orgasms.

With one final thrust, the both of you come undone, your release coating his dick entirely whilst he fills you to the brim with his warm cum.

LIKES ONLY GO SO FAR ! IF YOU LIKE IT, REBLOG IT.

vee's note .ᐟ sorry you had to read that because it sucks.

©𝘶𝘳𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺𝘸𝘰𝘯, 2024 𝘈𝘓𝘓 𝘙𝘐𝘎𝘏𝘛𝘚 𝘙𝘌𝘚𝘌𝘙𝘝𝘌𝘋 | 𝘱𝘭��𝘢𝘴𝘦 𝘥𝘰 𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘱𝘺, 𝘱𝘭𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘢𝘳𝘪𝘻𝘦, 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘴𝘭𝘢𝘵𝘦, 𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘪𝘧𝘺 𝘰𝘳 𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘢𝘭 𝘢𝘯𝘺 𝘰𝘧 𝘮𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘭𝘢𝘪𝘮 𝘪𝘵 𝘢𝘴 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘰𝘸𝘯. 𝘳𝘦𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨𝘴 𝘢𝘤𝘤𝘦𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘥

[clockwayswrites]

Birdritch part 2 Yeah, there's a subscription post now...

Danny pulled another sweet potato fry from his bag before refolding the top to keep it warm. He’d finish all the fries before he even got home, he knew that, but that was future him’s problem. Right then being able to munch on the sweet, salty goodness as he took a shortcut through the park was just what he needed. There was something about Robinson park that always settled him.

It was probably because of the park’s wild, otherworldly nature that came from Poison Ivy’s control. It almost felt ghostly in how unreal it was. It was another thing Danny tried not to think too hard on and just enjoyed. It wasn’t that Danny was ignoring the fact that he was half ghost (as he always tried to convince himself), he just wasn’t dwelling on it anymore. Ghosts had consumed his life for so long and he needed a break.

Even before his accident (it was easier to just call it an accident when people asked about his scars), his parent’s obsession controlled their house, family, and lives. He got now that it wasn’t normal to grow up not cooking because the food might eat you. Or because your parents were too busy in the basement lab to remember. His time away from Amity Park in college made Danny realize that Jazz and his childhood had been at best unsafe and at worst negligent.

It had taken Danny a lot of therapy to be able to say those words.

Being honest, Danny still needed a lot of therapy, but there was only so much progress he could make when he couldn’t really explain that he was half dead and had spent the end of his childhood fighting ghosts, the government, and his parents. He was half tempted to try and track down Harley Quinn and see if she was up to taking on a new patient. (Danny was pretty sure that she wouldn’t rat him out to the authorities.)

A vine thrashed suddenly in front of Danny, hitting the sidewalk with a meaty thump.

Danny froze.

Fuck.

His phone was out of power.

He couldn’t check if something was going on in the park.

While Poison Ivy was much more Pamela Isley than rogue these days, as seen by the city just letting her have control of much of the park, she was still temperamental and the right— or wrong— sort of thing could set her and her plants off. (Sometimes the plants went off on their own. Everyone knew not to be a sleaze bag in Robinson park.)

Slowly Danny started to back up.

Several more vines wretched themselves out of the ground around him.

He could hear shouting somewhere off to his left. Out of the corner of his eye he could see movement from the plants that direction.

Alright, not angry at him then.

Danny crept forward slowly, keeping his motions as calm and small as possible. Just because they plants weren’t angry at him it didn’t mean they weren’t a threat to him. His best chance was to stay on the path and head in the direction away from the noise.

And away from the over sized flowers.

Well fuckity fuck.

Most things Poison Ivy could do weren’t really a threat to Danny. He could phase away from vines, after all. But the flowers? The flowers had pollen and pollen was an unknown; one that Danny didn’t want to be known. Sam was rather certain that the pollens could effect Danny in odd and unknown ways due to his half ghost nature.

He had refused to let Sam experiment on him to figure it out. Comparing her fervor to his parent’s helped shut that idea down for good. Danny didn’t regret avoiding being a lab rat, even as he was staring down the ruby red flowers to his right. He still just had to keep his motions as calm and small as possible.

The flowers were only an issue if they let their pollen out.

Danny started to move in as wide of an arc as he could around the flowers.

While they were closed up he was safe.

Danny’s left hand spasmed.

The paper bag of food crinkled.

The flower petals unfurled.

Fuck.

---

AN: I know there are issues, another no read through late night post, but I'm getting my serotonin where I can. Stay delightful, darlings.

[sardonic-the-writer]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐗-𝐌𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐨𝐞𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐋𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐏𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞

↳ includes: charles xavier, erik lehnsherr, logan howlett, marie lebeau, and peter maximoff

↳ warnings: x-man type violence maybe? nothing much

↳ notes: just some self indulgent headcanons about how the gang would deal with someone who hates skin on skin contact. this is based on my own personal experiences, so it might not cater to everyone. charles and erik are written to be more of themselves around the first class era, peter is himself as seen in apocalypse, and marie & logan are more set in the first movie's portrayal of them

↳ song: heavy metal lover—lady gaga

masterlist | commissions | carrd

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐗𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐫 [𝐏𝐫𝐨𝐟𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐨𝐫 𝐗]

• Oh this is not one bit of a problem for Charles

• He's never needed physical contact to connect with people. Whether that's because of his powers, or his 'natural charm' as he calls it, you aren't sure, but your strange request for no contact never seemed to put him off his friendship with you

• Charles has his own ways of bonding with you, no hugs or handshakes required. Instead of nudges used to alert the other of a particularly funny joke, he'd just send you flashes in your mind regarding the situation. The end result was always the same; with the both of you grinning at each other while the rest of the room was left to make their own assumptions as to what you were thinking about

• "Seriously, it's creepy when they do that. They could be talking about anything." Alex whispered to Hank one day as you and Charles stood across the room from each other, not caring if the Professor was able to hear him or not. The only sign that you were even talking was the occasional huff of laughter Charles would let out as you scrunched your nose up in a toothy grin

• "Oh, I wouldn't say that." Hanks eyes gleam from behind his glasses as he watches the two of his friends. "Charles tells me most of it is just really bad jokes, if you want to know."

• As if on cue, the spell between you and Charles breaks as you delve into a laughing fit, and Alex and Hank can't help but shake their heads at each other in slight amusement as they watch

• He does an excellent job at speaking for you when you can't quite explain to new people why you are the way you are—as long as you'll let him, of course

• Maybe it's because he's been in your head, or just because he knows you so well that he can say exactly what you're thinking before you even know it. And sometimes, he doesn't even need to explain much at all. One carefully worded sentence backed with that steady tone of his is enough to make even the most ignorant of people understand

• "No handshakes for them, please." Charles had found himself saying that sentence more times than he could count since getting to know you, but he never found himself growing tired of it; even when you eventually found the awkward courage to start speaking on your behalf. Especially when you started speaking on your behalf

• Charles is a very patient man, and he couldn't be happier than to wait for you to open up to the world like you had done for him, even if it does take a while

𝐄𝐫𝐢𝐤 𝐋𝐞𝐡𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐫 [𝐌𝐚𝐠𝐧𝐞𝐭𝐨]

• I'm going to be completely honest with you. At first, Erik finds your habit of avoiding touch annoying

• It's a weakness in his eyes that you have every opportunity to avoid acquiring. He doesn't see the point in being afraid of something so miniscule

• When he first meets you, he's probably an asshole about it. Erik doesn't go out of his way to touch you on purpose, but he won't take extra steps to stop himself from doing so. If the back of his hand brushes against yours as he storms away from another one of Charles' annoying lectures? Then so be it. Who cares if you pull back from him like you've been burned, clutching your skin tightly as you glare at his retreating form

• It will take a while for Erik to begin to understand you, much like it does for him to understand a lot of things about the rest of the world. I won't say that he ever officially apologizes for his past behavior toward you, but he definitely drops hints that he does regret it

• "Never thought I'd live to hear the Erik Lehnsherr himself say sorry for something he did. Next you'll be telling me you've always liked humans." Your eyes were wide in faux surprise as you stared at him one day, looking like you had just heard the best news of your life. It was a good thing you and Erik had a much better relationship than when you had first met, otherwise he wouldn't have had a second thought about shutting you up

• "All I said was that maybe I maybe could have been a bit nicer to you." He sighed, already regretting this entire interaction

• "Oh, you're not getting off that easy." You were already scrambling for the door, completely missing the way Erik rolled his eyes and flicked his hand up in preparation. "Charles! Charles, you'll never believe what just happened—"

• He ended up using your belt buckle to drag you across the room before you could embarrass him any further

• Once he's warmed up to you, I'd like to think that he's definitely used the fact that lots of people wear rings and bracelets to his advantage to stop people from touching you at bars or in crowds

• He swears up and down he doesn't get attached to anyone, and especially not someone that associates with the X-Men of all groups, but you've definitely have had a few people look at their hands around you in confusion while he's around. Almost as if someone else had a say in their actions

• "Big softie."

• "You do know I could kill you if I wanted to."

• "I'd like to retract my last statement, please and thank you."

𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 [𝐖𝐨𝐥��𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞]

• Logan doesn't give two shits about your strange request

• Not in the way that he ignores it like Erik, but rather in the way that he literally doesn't give a fuck if you want to be touched or not. He wasn't planning on touching you anyways, so it's not like he really has to think about it

• If anything, Logan is one of the only people who can even begin to understand your mindset. He's never been too fond of people just outright touching him without a warning first, especially if they were strangers, but that's what you get after being experimented on for years

• He'll have to get to both know and like you before he starts taking your words more seriously. Otherwise, all you're getting from him is a gruff noise of disinterest and a roll of his shoulders as he blows past you

• Or ar least that's what he'd like you to think

• "Watch it, pal." You barely had time to process what that noise was next to your ear before Logan was standing dangerously close to you. You were about to ask him to back away before you saw his hand up, and when you looked at his hand you saw it was closed around a strangers wrist; the likes of which was outreached in your direction and just about to make contact with you

• Logans rough tone and sharp glare had sent the fellow stumbling away with an apology, and left you standing there with a bewildered look on your face. It only grew larger when he refused to look at you afterward

• "Don't let it get to your head." Was all he huffed out in your general direction before walking off to continue the mission the both of you were on. Through the com's in your ears, you could hear the rest of the team asking you what was going on, and with a slow upward tick of your lip you finally answered

• "I think Wolverine here has gone a bit soft on my end guys."

• You were given the cold shoulder for the rest of the week by Logan, and every time he glared at you, you couldn't help but try to hold in laughter

• "See, this is why I'm not nice."

• "No no no I take it all back, I swear. You're so mean. You're the meanest, toughest person here, never done a good deed in your life—"

• "Shut the fuck up."

𝐌𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐞 𝐋𝐞𝐁𝐞𝐚𝐮 [𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞]

• She doesn't understand why you'd choose to have people not touch you

• For Marie, not being able to hug someone— to even so much as hold hands with the people she loved —is a curse. She wasn't such a fool to think that her mutation itself was the curse, Charles had managed to drill that thought out of her head a long while ago, but the side-effect that came with it would forever haunt her

• So when she found out that you actively took strides to make sure no one ever touched you (if possible), she was in disbelief

• "I just don't get it." She'd confessed to you out of the blue once. "How can you stand it? If I were you—"

• "But you're not." You cut her off and shrugged, voice devoid of any meanness or annoyance at the turn of conversation. "I get it. I must seem crazy to you. I'd imagine that you'd jump at the chance to be able to touch someone again. But that just isn't me. I can't stand the feeling of being touched. Makes me feel gross; inside and out. I don't ask you to understand it, just that you respect it. Yeah?"

• She had nodded slowly at you, not expecting the sudden explanation. It wasn't unwelcome, however. Quite the contrary. She'd rather understand you than stew in quiet confusion

• From that moment on, even if Marie thinks you're a little crazy in the head, she does her best to make sure that both herself and others take your wishes to heart

• You have to admit, it's nice having her look out for you. And it helps that she's one of the most powerful mutants on campus; one sideways look from her, and she could send anyone in the opposite direction from you if you need

𝐏𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐌𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟 [𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫]

• You're constantly having to remind him that you don't like people touching you

• It's not Peter's fault he forgets sometime. His brain is always going going going from one thing to the next. Thinking about the next mission, the quickest way to get from one end of the country to the other, how to beat that stupid kid at the arcade that keeps leaving him and his high scores in the dust—

• Okay so maybe he could do a bit of a better job of trying to listen

• "Peter, reach for the back of my neck again and I'm gonna break both of your legs." You didn't even have to turn around to know that he was itching to latch onto your neck, most likely to take you on a surprise trip a few states over. Or maybe just to the mall. He was spontaneous like that

• When you did manage to look up from your notebook and back at him, you found that Peter was already a good few feet away from you, holding up his hands with a deceivingly innocent smile; but respecting your wishes all the same

• "You sure you're not a secret nun or something?" He poked fun at the way you refused to let anyone touch you, even going as far to squint at you in an unconvinced manner. You ignored his clear misunderstanding of nuns to snort in amusement

• "No."

• "Could have fooled me, babe."

• He sped away before you had the chance to throw your papers at his head

• Peter's probably the kind of guy to constantly tease you to your face, but the moment you're not in sight and someone's ragging on you, he'll shut them down. He's done it many times to stray students in the hallways of the school who talk just a little too loud about your personal boundaries

• "I'm just saying, man, they're a little weird. The other day, I asked to borrow a pencil, and they threw it at me. While standing less than a foot away. It's just strange—"

• Less than a second later, the student was sent falling to the floor over his shoelaces, which were suspiciously tied together in contrast to moments ago when they had been placed in neat little bows

• The only sign that this hadn't been a freak accident was the telltale burst of wind that sped by the student and their friend, a faint laugh following in its wake

[dinogoofymutated]

Kissin and shit - Morph, Colossus, Gambit, Quicksilver. Heehee. here they be! I might or might not do more. It really depends bc I'm doing these as a writing exercise more than anything lol. TWS: Alcohol consumption mentioned, lots of overly enthusiastic smooching. Sexual references but no smut.

Morph

    “I love you- I love you so, so much” Morph doesn't have a minute to reply to you as you kiss them senselessly. Every once in a while when you separate to breathe, they try to speak, only for you to interrupt them with more kisses each time. Morph hums in a confused but happy sort of way. You’ve basically thrown yourself onto them, kissing them again and again until they loose their balance and the two of you topple backwards. The moment you realise you’re falling your hands slide behind their head to cushion the fall, and after a wide-eyed moment of shock both of you are laughing.

    You kiss all over their face, eyelids, cheeks, that little bump where their nose would be- and you don’t stop even as they start to fully fall victim to their laughter. God- did you love that sound! You catch their lips in a kiss again, and they hum in appreciation, panting when you finally pull away with a genuine smile on their face.

    “Not sure what I did to deserve that, but can you tell me so I can do it again?”

Colossus

    Piotr is struggling to keep up with your fiery, passionate kisses. He’s just a quiet as he always is, but you can feel his chest heaving against your own. His breath hitches as you drag your teeth across his bottom lip, before moving your kisses down his neck. You’re gentle with your kisses and nips- lavishing him with all of your love. He’s still silent, not a sound leaving his mouth, but you can feel his large hands squeeze around you just slightly. 

    “Piotr? Are you okay?” You ask when you finally pull away. He’s more red than you’ve ever seen him before, flushed from his ears and all the way down his neck. He doesn’t respond to you at first, his blown pupils looking back and fourth from your lips to your eyes a he fights the urge to pull you closer and kiss you until the next morning. 

    “Yes… Yes. More than okay.”

Gambit

    “You’re so drunk.” You giggle, hands buried in Remy’s hair before he pulls you into another drunken kiss. They’re wet, messy, and sloppy kisses, but you can’t seem to get enough of them. You can taste the alcohol on his toungue as it slides against your own, feeling the slight sting of the taste.

    “Pot callin’ the kettle black, Cher. You’re just as drunk as I am.” Remy chuckles, having pulled away for just a split second before you reel him back in again, your skin buzzing with delight from the feeling of his body against yours. His hands drift down to your thighs before he’s hiking one up against his hip.

    So what if you were both a little drunk? To be honest, even if you were sober, you knew that the two of you would still have ended up in the same place you are now- smoochin.

Quicksilver

    “We really need to get going.” You say, and yet you’re still kissing Pietro, holding onto his tie that he hadn’t even been able to put on before the two of you had gotten carried away. He snorts a laugh against your lips, picking you up and wrapping your legs around his waist in a split second, his lips hardly leaving yours the entire time.

    “To what? Father’s stupid gala? We have plenty of time.” Pietro sighs, pressing his forehead against your own, pretty, white lashes resting against his cheekbones with his eyes still closed. “I’ll just zip us over when we’re done.” He says, walking you over to your desk where he sets you down- french kissing you the entire way there. You hardly have time to pull away and breathe to respond to him.

     “Believe me, Speedy, if we don’t get going, we’re going to be here all night.”

[cho-aaacho]

Jealousy isn't really your style, is it?

Masterlist

Characters : Gojo Satoru, Geto Suguru, Nanami Kento, Fushiguro Megumi, and Choso.

Gojo Satoru

He becomes increasingly silent—too silent until you can't detect his emotion. His appetite vanished as waves of jealousy showered on his mind. You don't even notice that at first, thinking he might be tired from work.

However, as the sun goes down to the horizon and is replaced by the moonlight, his smile fades whenever your eyes meet his. He refrains from calling you endearing nicknames, skips the usual sensual morning kiss, and avoids his favorite cookies. When you suggest playing video games, Gojo simply groans and leaves you alone.

What's happening to him? Did you hurt your sweetheart? No. Until the sky falls, you don't have a heart to hurt your sweetheart.

You can't let the stillness linger; you can't leave everything unresolved. It's so hurtful, to be honest. Why would Gojo be so selfish like this? You need to find out what's going on with your little sweetheart.

That night, Gojo stood in his favorite spot within the apartment, drowning in the beautiful goldfish in the aquarium. Golden and yellow, reflected in his eyes like sunflower petals.

He gently tapped his finger on the aquarium's glass, making the whole atmosphere feel so cold. Gojo seemed unusually relaxed, in contrast to the person he once was. 

"I know I might come off as a boring and annoying man. People often say that, and I usually don't care about it at all because I understand it's not important. But when it comes from you—please... I don't want to hear that."

You do not quite understand what he means, but Gojo appears deeply hurt. His azure eyes, his words, his breath, the cologne he uses this time, the way he gazes at you—something feels off and unplaced.

This is the first time you've seen him so blue and so pained that the warmth in his lovely presence is almost undetectable. Everything is gone.

"Hey, I'm not sure if you've noticed, but it hurts me when you smile at other guys. I want you to be mine, and only mine, and no one else. Please don't do that again, because you're irreplaceable. If I lose you, I can't find another like you."

Geto Suguru 

At first, he doesn't show his jealousy because Geto is the sweetest.

However, there comes a moment when he becomes more affectionate—increased physical touch, frequent kisses, hugs, showering you with praise, texting you almost every hour.

And when he does these things, he always leaves a sarcastic comment like, "I'm a better man, aren't I?" or "Can you see how much I care about you more than anyone else?"

and "I hope you're not blind enough to understand my affection."

also "I know you're not stupid enough to leave me alone. Because I hate being a loner."

It's somewhat annoying because Geto rarely behaves like this. It's simply... so strange, leaving you confused about whether it's a prank by the twins, if something horrible has hit him, or maybe he is too much into reading a weird romantic novel.

That morning, when you are sleeping on his lap, feeling his love, warmth, and kindness, he delicately traces his fingertips across your cheeks, down to your jawline, then meanders to your nose, pinching it gently, leaving a small chuckle before circling back to playfully tease the contour of your lips.

He leaned closer, sealing a gentle kiss on the nose tip and moving before grazing your lips with a small nibble. "Did Satoru ever kiss you like this? I doubt he has done this to you."

Your eyes fluttered open, confusion etching your expression. "What do you mean, Suguru-kun?"

He sighed. "Don't think I haven't noticed, cutie. I may not match Satoru's strength, but I'm not stupid. What were you up to with him last week? You seemed quite charmed with him, didn't you?"

He added. "Should I end both of you, so he can't have you and you can't have him? But I lack the heart to harm you, sweet love. Stop talking with that man. Because I hate sharing my love with someone else."

Nanami Kento

A tough man, he doesn't even realize if jealousy is starting to invade him; perhaps you might label it as denial. 

He puts on a facade that everything is fine, brushing off any concerns by assuming them to be mere imagination or work-induced stress.

No, you didn't cheat or talk with another man. You're always a nice woman to Nanami Kento, and of course, never in your wildest dreams will you hurt your man. 

However, a weird sensation starts to trouble him the next day when his coworkers engage in silly gossip about him and you. 

Whispers float behind him, dripping with a sarcastic tone like, "How could a good woman like her date someone like Nanami-san? He's so boring."

and someone chimes in. "Yeah, I heard she dumped Gojo-san and went with him; why does she think like that?"

From that moment onward, everything feels upside down.

Each day, each time, every time he sees your face, catches your gaze, and hears your voice echoing in his ears, all of these hurt him. 

He feels like he doesn't deserve you and thinks that perhaps you can find another guy, someone special, someplace that would make you safe and happy, someone who could make you feel at home whenever you run to them. 

And that man is not me.

"I realize I might not be as caring as other men, or perhaps I come off as too boring for someone like you. Honestly, I don't wish for your kindness to be shared with anyone else—even a fleeting smile from you stirs a deep ache within me. Maybe it's an obsession, but if you allow me to share my jealousy, I don't want you to meet that guy, Gojo Satoru. For heaven's sake, I fear losing all control and ending up hurting you. I love you." 

Fushiguro Megumi

Honestly, his anger management is the worst. There are scenes when he appears calm, collected, and cute, but, again, it's merely a facade he is creating, especially in your presence. 

When the flames of jealousy shower on Megumi, flirting with his life, everything transforms into a hellish field.

He loses his temper and becomes easily offended whenever Yuuji attempts to engage in conversation with him, roasting everyone in sight. The situation continues until Maki beats him and tells him how annoying he is.

He has a terrible urge to throw punches at everyone, driven by the need to tell them that you belong to him. He needs to make it clear that you're already committed to someone else and that your heart is sealed with Fushiguro Megumi. Only with that man and no one else.

His intention is not just to show his obsession but also to dissuade others from bothering both of you. He longs to compel them to kneel, satisfying his fleeting sense of pride.

It's pretty hilarious because whenever Gojo catches wind of it, he bursts into laughter and playfully teases Megumi all day. Well, it's natural for anyone to have jealousy within them, but... doesn't Megumi take it a bit too far?

You've observed this pattern and tried to convince your dear boyfriend that everything around him is just his imagination. He shouldn't be worrying, and he just hurts himself by treating people like that.

Yet, Megumi is Megumi.

"I don't think I'm overreacting to this. When I'm upset, I express it openly. It's frustrating when people assume I'm obsessed with you—I'm not. I just don't want you to get involved with someone who isn't worth it for you. I fear you'll end up hurt. You can choose me; I can prove not only to you but to everyone that I am the one who truly deserves you."

Choso

Choso isn't typically the jealous type, but when he notices a certain closeness between you and his brothers, everything changes. 

He genuinely cares for his brothers, going to great lengths to ensure their happiness and love. He values the bond you share with his brothers and cherishes the love and affection you have for each other.

However...

It's hard for him to put it into words. Everything is stuck in his throat and sealed inside his head. 

Every time he sees you with his brothers blossoming an indescribable feeling within him, it's a burning sensation that's hard to bear. The flame is starting to burn him alive.

The way you share meals with them or laugh at their jokes—all of these irritate him to the point that they make his heart beat so fast. Choso is aware that these emotions are too complicated; he can't hate his brothers, but the heart has a way of contradicting logic. 

How could God put love in his heart?

He fondly recalls the first snow you experienced together, the gentle embrace of summer against his skin, and the golden glow of spring's sun. 

But he still wonders when he falls in love with you. Maybe since the first time he met you? Or else?

"I find immense joy in sharing my time and days with you. My brothers seem to love you as well. Everything about you is beautiful, and I cherish the moments we share. I fear losing you and our precious time; that's why I act this way when you're with them. I want to be the one you choose."

[neuroticboyfriend]

Another thing I just realized. If you isolate, especially for a long time, and then start coming out of your shell... You're not gonna suddenly be fine with being around people, being seen by others, or having social interactions.

Whatever reason you were isolating is going to follow you. You're gonna be uncomfortable. You're going to try to hide. You're gonna have a hard time trusting others and being honest about yourself. This is natural.

Change doesn't happen over night. Taking action to put yourself in social situations is only the first step; learning how to be yourself around others and who you want in your life is a whole other ballgame. It's going to take time for you to discover how you want to exist in the world.

That's okay. It's frustrating as all hell. It's scary putting yourself out there. Sometimes it might feel like you'll never connect with someone else - that you'll always be an outsider no matter what you do. You might feel stuck and doomed, but you're not.

You are capable of growth and healing. There are people who want to be your friend, who will love and support you in ways you didn't think was possible. They will be patient with you as you struggle and change. Not only that, but they'll be proud of all the progress you made, and continue to make every day.

I say this to you, and myself. I'm experiencing this firsthand, and I've been being so mean to myself for not living up to whatever standards I've placed on myself. I can't push myself to be someone I'm not ready to be, to do things I'm not ready to do. I only have today, and who I am today.

So everyday, I can put some effort into exploring myself as a social creature. I can be more gentle and patient with myself through the process. It's not going to perfect; I'm just one person, and you are too. We'll both be okay and get through this. We are allowed to take things one step at a time, one day at a time.

One day we'll be able to look back on where we are now and see how much we've grown, how much happier we are. Until then, we'll hold on for the ride and keep going. ♡

[luveline]

I am so incredibly sick rn and desperately craving some Hotch comfort—maybe bau!gf who desperately tries to hide the fact that she’s sick even when she’s burning up and can’t keep her eyes open, and Hotch who just wants to take care of her!!

thank you for your request! i hope you feel better soon. —hotch fights to take care of you when you hide a fever. fem!reader, 1.4k

Spencer knows you're sick, but he's the only one who's figured it out so far. Everybody else is too busy. 

He pushes your coffee toward him and exchanges it for a cup of water without saying anything. You're relieved to find it's ice cold, fighting to drink it without spilling it, or worse, pressing it to your furnace of a forehead. 

"Just go home," he says. 

"I like it here," you say lightly.

"You're fatigued, obviously running a fever, and probably disoriented if your eyes are anything to go off of." 

"Are they?" you ask, eyes fluttering closed. 

You prop yourself on your hand. Having a desk right next to Spencer has its ups and downs. Ups including physics magic, surprise trinkets, and all the donuts you can eat. Downs include this —he's too good at his job but bad at taking a hint, so while he's realised that you're sick and tired and should probably head home, he hasn't stopped to think you might be keeping it a secret for a reason. 

If you take more sick leave already after your week long bout of food poisoning only a fortnight ago, it will look like you're trying to take advantage of Hotch. You don't want the team thinking you're cheating and you don't want Hotch to think this is how it’s going to be. You’d never use him like that, but it’s so early into the relationship that there’s no way for him to know that for sure. 

You take a measured breath. You're the kind of sick that yearns for bed, head heavy, a pounding pain behind your eyebrows and a nose you can't breathe through. Your lips are chapped despite the thick layer of balm you applied that morning. The weight of a bowling ball rests in your sinuses. Your head begins to list forward. 

"Y/N?" 

You look up, rubbing your forehead as nonchalantly as you can manage. Hotch stands with a hand on the railing of his half-platform, eyebrows pulled together as they tend to be. 

You like the sound of your name on his lips, even if it's said with question. 

"Yeah?" you ask. 

Before, it would've been, Yes, sir? But Hotch told you (while in boyfriend mode, assumedly) that it makes him hot around the collar (though he'd said it more delicately), so now you save it for special occasions, like when you want to get your way, and when he looks especially perturbed.

"Something wrong?" he asks. 

He can't like the way you say, "I'm fine," maybe he spots the far-away look in your eyes, your poorly concealed wince as your head throbs, maybe he just knows you. He gives you a look bordering reproachful and turns away. 

"My office," he says.  

Spencer sends you a pointed look. When he realises you aren't awake enough to glare back, he nudges you encouragingly. "Be honest," Spencer says. 

You almost fall up the short steps to the landing in front of Hotch's office. You don't knock before entering, and later you'll realise how odd this is. Hotch hasn't even sat down, instead straightening a paper from the wrong side of the desk. 

"What's wrong? Another migraine?" he asks. 

"No. I'm alright, did you want something?" 

He turns around fully. You like seeing him after hours without his suit, arms behind his tired neck and eyes half-lidded, but this look is just as good on him: furrowed brows, a hand twitching toward you but not touching. He tries not to cross the line here at work because when it starts it never ends. Your evaluations have to be cross examined and approved by a higher up, you are not permitted to room together on cases, and you have to report to HR every three to six weeks to reaffirm that Hotch isn't being coercive. It's odd and invasive at times, but these are things you have to do to be together. You'd do worse. 

"Did I want something?" he asks. It's more patient than incredulous, but the incredulity is definitely there. 

"From me?" 

"I want lots of things from you." He breaks eye contact with you and turns back to his things, shuffling papers into a manila folder. You blink dozily, wanting a hug and needing him to let you go back to your desk lest you give in and lean against his broad chest. "Like for you to take care of yourself." 

"I'm fine." 

"Forgive me if this is something I shouldn't say, but you don't look okay. You look sick." 

You summon your most convincing smile even while his back is turned and enthuse your tone with some practised pep. "Well, it's not the most romantic thing in the world." 

He ties the cord on his manilla envelope and clicks open his briefcase. It's a testament to how sick you are that you didn't notice it there, nor his coat thrown over the edge of the desk. 

"You going somewhere?" you ask curiously. 

"I'm taking you home, honey." 

You shake your head. "No, you're not. I'm fine." 

Hotch puts his coat on regardless. Briefcase closed and in hand, he walks the short distance to you and scans your expression for any give. "Let's go home." 

"Hotch–" 

"Home," he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "No more 'Hotch'." 

You take a step back but not one more than that, startled by his readiness to leave, and his reluctance to believe you. You're a bad actor and he's trained in the art of untangling deception —it isn't going to work. You give it a valiant effort. 

"You don't have the resources to give me the day off. You definitely don't have the resources to take a day off with me, and that's fine because I'm not sick." You rub your face clean, dust off your work blouse. "I have a headache, it's not so bad." 

Hotch actually smiles, then. You worked for him for three months before you realised he could. It isn't what you're expecting. It disarms you.

"Liar," he says, ducking down to give you a kiss. He sounds amused and sorry at once, an impossible combination marked by his small smile and his protective hand at your elbow. 

Every kiss is like a shock. Not because Hotch is particularly abrasive to the senses, the opposite —it feels right. 

"I'm not lying," you say.

"Take the day off with me, then." 

He knows he's being a bit of a bastard, evidenced by his smile, but he sobers for your sake. "You're lying to me, but that's not what matters. I can feel your head like a flame and I'm not even touching it. And you've kept your secret well, honey, but Reid's a good friend." 

"What did he tell you?" you murmur. 

"You fell asleep for sixteen seconds." 

"When?" you ask in disbelief.

"A couple of minutes before I called for you." Hotch squeezes your arm. 

"If we go home you'll have so much work to do when we come back," you lament. 

"It'll be the same as any other day," he says. He's slipped into his most dulcet tone, the kind he uses with family. "I am… desperate, to take care of you. I can't do that here. Please oblige me and let me do it at home." 

"Oblige you?" you ask. 

"Being your boyfriend isn't working. I thought I would try boss instead." 

You relent, finally. You genuinely can't abstain from him anymore, not when he's being as ridiculously charming and gentle as he is, his hand steadying at your elbow. Plus, your brain is probably gonna explode inside of your skull any second now if your headache is anything to go by. You drop your face into his chest and sigh, relieved when his hand moves to your shoulder, and his cheek presses to the top of your head. 

"This is inappropriate," you mumble. 

"You're really not well, hm?" he asks, just as quietly. "I'd be negligent if I didn't take notice. Doubly negligent if I didn't take you home." 

"Human resources…" You mean to say more. He's solid, he wants to hug you, and he smells like his expensive cologne. Hotch has a presence about him that's automatically comforting once you overcome the intimidating. Sometimes, even, the intimidating helps it along. You feel sheltered by his arms. Totally safe. It's probably why you nearly pass out in his embrace right there and then. 

"Okay," he says, rubbing your back. "Alright. I'll let human resources know your complaint, honey, don't worry. Let's get you to the car." 

[tacticaldiary]

A Cracked And Fissured Door

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x Reader

Genre: Hurt/Comfort

"You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking."

It stings, if she's being honest. Being kept at an arms length when in public. Most people know about them, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

Masterlist

"If he sends us out before next week I'm quitting." Soap groans, back cracking as he flops down forward on the bar. "Three ops in a week? What do I look like, a machine?"

Gaz snickers, raising his glass to that. "Bloody might well be at this point."

She hides a smile behind her own drink, leaning back into the bar. They had done three ops in a week, mission after mission after mission. It had been pretty rough, just as Soap said and she was more than ready to crash and burn and sleep for three days straight but abandoning their tradition of getting drinks at this specific bar everything Saturday was not something anyone on the 141 was willing to break.

"Just be glad we got the weekend off." Ghost says from beside her. She smiles warmly at him, is rewarded with a slightly blank look.

The flicker of her smile is hid behind another sip.

"Betcha your gonna take advantage of that, eh?" Soap nudges her, looking pointedly between her and Ghost. The latter rolls his eyes and says nothing.

"Only thing I'm looking forward to is an actual mattress." She knocks back the last of her drink and stands, shrugging Gaz's arm slung over her shoulder. "Speaking of which, I think it's about time we call it a night." Casting a glance at her boyfriend, who merely nods in confirmation and pushes the stool back himself, she nods at the others. "Don't cause too much trouble, boys. Text us when you're home safe, yeah?"

"We just got shot at for a week, don't think a car ride home is gonna be the end of us." Soap snorts.

"You never know." Is all she says before stepping out of the bar with Ghost, who offers her her coat to shrug on.

"Hell of a week." She comments, glancing at him gratefully as she shrugs on the warm fabric.

"Just glad it's over," Simon says simply.

Walking back to their car, she can't help but cast quiet glances at him as they walk. She knows Ghost notices them, chooses to keep looking ahead and keep the silence.

Truth be told, she aches to touch him.

Aches to feel his skin on hers, to feel the callouses of his hands brush against hers. His heat, ever all-encompassing makes her feel safe in a way no bulletproof vest ever could.

"Think I might ask Price to assign me desk duty for a while." She jokes, knocking their shoulders together gently.

To the untrained eye, to someone who might not have been tuned to what makes Simon Simon, it wouldn't have been noticeable, but he leans subtly away so they don't touch again.

She doesn't mention it, but it makes her heart heavy.

It's nothing new. She's not sure why she's even surprised anymore.

Trying again, her arm hangs beside her, purposefully brushing against his gloves. The frown on her face deepens when he shoves his hands into his pockets.

Maybe it's the exhausting week she's had, but it gets to her, infects her heart, mind, and soul with the insecurity she keeps locked behind a cracked and fissured door in her mind.

It stings, if she's being honest.

He's not the most...social person. Closed off and private, but baring her soul to someone she loves and getting so little in return...

Being kept at an arm's length when in public, even though their relationship is not a secret. Most people know, actually, so she's not sure why he's so...cold and distant when they're not alone.

The car ride home is silent, but not in a comfortable way their quiet is usually shared. Simon seems to pick up on it, because he grips the steering wheel a little too hard, the tension in his shoulders a little too foreign.

Gaz had no problem touching her. A friendly punch to the arm, an arm around her shoulder. Soap was a touchy person by nature, nudging her and ruffling her hair.

So why was it that Simon always pulled away?

The one person who should love her the most, who should be proud of loving her...why does he pull away and pretend this thing between them doesn't exist.

She doesn't get it, hasn't understood for the past two years they've been together. Pushing was not something she'd considered given his stubbornness and private nature, but there's no denying she's always felt a twinge of hurt whenever he disregards her in public.

Was he...ashamed? Of her? Did he not want to be seen with her?

The thought latches itself onto her, sucking away the usual confidence she carries and leaving her a nervous mess. It makes her sick. Before she knows it they're back home but she can't find herself to walk any farther than the front door that's shut behind her.

He doesn't comment on it, just casts her an inquisitive look before moving to the kitchen in view.

Simon always did like a cup of tea before bed.

"Simon?" The word comes out a little garbled, caught in her indecision, and morphed into something muffled. He hears it, because of course he does, and hums. Doesn't look up from where he's rifling through the cupboards for his kettle.

The air is cold in her lungs, freezes up with nerves, and this is all so ridiculous. It's stupid and she shouldn't be feeling this way but she does because she just does.

Trust was a precious jewel, a diamond only given to those who trusted enough to keep it unmarred. Necklaces and earrings and bracelets, she feels like she could make millions of intricate pieces with the bits of trust she had bared for Simon to take and keep as his own.

Simon knows what she loves, what she hates, how she feels about anything and everything. The rhyme and reasons, the way she ticks, and what throws her off kilter. He knows it all, it's been given willingly and eagerly to the man who took her heart with that rough demeanour on the tarmac two years ago.

She had given him all her gems, the shiniest and the dullest ones, but he's never even been bothered to spare her a piece of coal.

When she doesn't speak immediately, he pauses his movements and sets down the kettle on the counter with a 'clink'. "What's the matter, love?" He straightens up.

"Do you want to be with me?" She blurts out, unable to fathom leaving this conversation for another day. Not when she's so worked up and hurt and feeling.

His face stays blank, and when he responds it's almost as if he's doing it carefully. "What do you mean?"

"I mean what I asked." The sides of her coat are clutched with a knuckle-white grip, nausea making her an inch away from ruining the lovely carpet they'd picked out together when they'd first moved in.

Simon furrows his brows. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"That's not what I asked." Unease starts to curl up in her gut. "Do you like me, Simon?"

"Of course I fucking like you, what are you talking about?"

"You sure don't act like it."

There.

It's in the open now. Simon stares at her for a moment, shocked or stunned or whatever emotion that causes him to clam up for a moment.

He never really was good at this part of their relationship, but this...it was vital. It was important because she refuses to let this problem define what they have together.

"You don't touch me when we're not alone." She starts, "You act like I'm just no one when we're out together. You barely acknowledge me any more than anybody else, pull away when I try to touch you." It feels good to let this all off her chest. Months and months of trying to figure out what was going on. "Tell me why. I just want to know why."

"I'm a private person-"

"No Simon, that's not what this is." She shakes her head, emotion rising inside her. "You just...you make me feel like you only want me when nobody's looking. Like I'm...like you want to keep me a secret."

Her eyes are glassy because saying it hurts so fucking much, but it needs to be said. It needs to be voiced, he needs to listen and acknowledge-

"You know that's not true, so it shouldn't be a bloody problem-"

"Do I?" A laugh burst out of her, unexpected and short. It's enough to cut him off, cause him to narrow his eyes. "You've never told or indicated that to me. Not once. Not in two years."

"It's common sense. I wouldn't be with you if I didn't want you." She can tell he's trying to stay level, to meet her in the middle but all caution gets thrown to the wind because is he really trying to argue with her on this?

"No, it's not." She insists, trying not to raise her voice as anger bubbles up inside her. Was he not getting it? Not understanding that this was hurting her? That he was hurting her? "Sometimes I-..." She swallows, "Sometimes I'll be having a great time, like today. I'll be laughing and enjoying myself and then I'll glance at you, or try and do something as simple as brush shoulders, and I'll watch you push me away. Or pull away." Her voice waver but she fights to keep it steady. "And it makes me feel miserable because what is it about me that makes my own boyfriend not want to accidentally touch me?"

"Why didn't you tell me before?" He says, hackles raised at being put on the spot like this. Ghost doesn't mean to, but this is all so new to him and the only thing he knows how to do in these rapidly changing situations is to be sharp and jagged and tense. "If you're so miserable, why are you still here?"

"Because I love you!" She cries out. "And I can't help but think that I might never get the same back from you." Her grip on her coat tightens.

There's a beat of silence.

"I never asked you to. You knew what you were getting yourself into."

His words cut through the quiet, as sharp as the blades he keeps strapped to his thigh.

"Oh, fuck you." She whispers. "Don't give me that bullshit. That's not an excuse for not trying-"

"Not trying?" His voice gets slightly louder. "I try every day. I try to be someone you deserve but you're bloody well making it difficult when-"

"Just stop!" She yells over him. "Stop. I'm not asking for something you can't give. I'm just asking for an explanation."

"I can't-"

"You can!" To her dismay, her eyes burn with tears that are bound to fall in a few seconds, but she's too far into it to turn around now. "It's been two fucking years, Simon. Two years. I've never pushed or pressured you, I've listened and sat here and tried to be the one you can come to, but you never do." She sniffles, wiping her tears away roughly.

He stays silent, visibly frustrated but letting her talk.

"Do you know what they say back at base?" She spits out. "About me? They say I've forced you into being with me." A hollow laugh. "That I've got some dirt on you that keeps you quiet, or that I'm just someone you pass the time at night with because everyone thinks that you want nothing to do with me during the day. They talk about why we're still together, why you're still with me when you clearly have no interest." Her tears are long forgotten, left to trail down her cheeks in rivers of hurt. "They say...they say I'm only on the 141 because of our relationship."

And that was what hurt the most. Her own skills undermined like that.

That startles him enough to pull his brows in confusion "I didn't know..."

"Of course you don't, why would they say it in front of the man who looks like he could snap their spines in half?"

She waits for him to speak. To say something, anything, but all he does is stare at her with those half-blank eyes that she can never decipher and it infuriates her because did he not just listen to what she's told him.

"You know what, forget it." She chokes out. "I'm done. I'm fucking done with this." She gestures to them both, vaguely watching his eyes widen with muted panic. Getting shoved into a woodchipper would be less painful than the hurt that tears through her chest, hiccupping on swallowed sobs.

"Hold on-"

"I can't be the only one keeping us both afloat." She reaches behind her for the doorknob. "I don't want that. I love you, Simon. I really do, but it hurts so fucking much when you act like I'm disposable, like you're ashamed of being seen with me."

The door is pulled open by her, and then roughly shoved shut by Simon. He moves quicker than she could register, behind the counter one moment and right in front of her the next. His hand stays firmly on the door, keeping it shut as he leans down to catch her gaze.

"Ashamed is the last thing I am about you." He says quickly, clumsily. "I-...fucking hell that's not right at all, love."

Simon is...he's panicking.

The thought strikes her immediately with the way his chest rises and falls quickly, the lack of that cold clipped grace in his voice.

"I don't care." She chokes on a cry, hands planting themselves firmly on his chest to shove him away. It's like nudging a brick wall. The man is immovable, standing in place with their bodies so close it feels like they're sharing heat. "I'm tired, and you're making it worse so let me go." He grabs her wrists, presses them against himself to keep her in place. His hands are warm, rid of the gloves he usually dons.

She's met with every inch of that scarred face of his. She hadn't noticed but he'd discarded his mask as he'd been rushing around the counter to get to her.

"Listen to me." He breathes, trying to get his thoughts straight and keep her there with him. He can't lose her, can't let her walk out the door because he's afraid that she might never come back. "Please."

It's the last word that pauses her struggle. Simon...he was someone who operated on orders and demands so the frantic and silent plea pushed into the word is enough to make her still for a moment.

And a moment is all he needs.

"I've never..." He thinks for a moment. Never has she seen him look so frazzled. He tries again. "Everyone I've ever loved has been killed." Her eyes widen at the declaration. "My family. My friends...everyone." His breath fans over her face with how he's leaned down, hot so very him. "I think I'm afraid if I show the world I love you it might try and take you from me too." Simon's voice breaks at the end, as if he's voiced something from his nightmares and despite the pain she's feeling the sound slices through her. "And I can't...I can't live with losing you too."

With bated breath, he waits for her to respond. Part of him can't bear to look her in the eyes after the admission but he finds himself staring at her face anyway, drinking in any sign of hope.

Hope. How long has it been since he's felt the warm rays of such a feeling?

Slowly, so slowly it makes his breath hitch, she tugs her hand free on his. For a moment Simon thinks she might push him away again and his heart sinks like a stone, but then her fingertips graze his face, her hands cup his cheeks and suddenly they interlock behind his head, pulling him in.

Simon crushes her into him, tucking her head under his chin with a shuddering breath of relief. He's not lost her, not completely.

Hope.

There was still such a thing for a man like him after all.

"I'm not going anywhere." She mumbles into the crook of his neck, the feeling of his lips moving on his skin sending a shiver up his spine. "I'm so sorry, Simon. If you'd told me that before I would have tried to help-..."

Simon shakes his head immediately, arms tightening around her. "I chose not to tell you. The thought of coming home and seeing you on the ground...bloody...like them." He swallows past the lump in his throat. "Fuck, I'm sorry I hurt you, sweetheart."

Simon didn't apologise often, so when he did that means he knows he's fucked up.

She does not tell him it's alright, that she forgives him or that he's fine. Because he's not. His apology, his honesty doesn't make the months of hurt go away. It still aches at her like before, but this time the ache has a meaning behind it. It has a reason.

They hold each other for a moment, against the door, two people knee-deep in a problem that's been brewing for weeks and weeks, bubbled over the edge in the ugliest way possible.

"I need you to try." She whispers after a moment, the barest of smiles gracing her face when he nods slowly.

"I know." He says simply against her hair. Gently swaying in each other's hold, both are content to stay there for a while, to calm their racing hearts with the knowledge that the other is still there, is real and solid under their hands.

And it's enough.

                                  · · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Change is a slow trek to an ever extending finish line.

Simon keeps his word. If there's anything it's good at, it's resilience. Though it makes him antsy and paranoid and dare he say slightly nervous to open such a part of him to somebody again, he tries.

He tried because he'd rather saw his own arm off than be the one who gives her a reason to leave. Not her. Not the best thing that's happened to him in years, the person who's managed to wake up Simon after years of being Ghost.

A subtle brush of hands as they walk.

An arm around her shoulder while they drink.

Thighs and sides pressed together as they take their seats on a heli.

The squeeze of her knee from under the table.

It builds and builds into something warm and new and fresh, a feeling that overshadows all the worry he had about the universe having a vendetta against him because if there was one good thing that Simon Riley wanted to keep, it was her.

Their weekend is filled with conversations, real conversations about things they've kept to themselves, worries and concerns, and moments of hesitance. He tries his best, though some words die on his tongue before he can get them out. She pushes him, but never more than he can take. Heart, body, and soul, she knows him like the back of her hand but he's the only one who can truly let her into his mind.

All that aside Simon also has another more personal task to work through once their weekend is over.

After paying some not-so-nice visits to more than a dozen people (to his absolute fury), she never once hears a peep of another disgusting rumour ever again.

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(26/07/2023)