#But I think that's better than me stepping in in this case.

[slttygeto]

“will you still have a crush?”

pairing: husband! suguru x wife! reader.

genre: fluff.

note: smth very short thats been sitting in my drafts for a while and i decided to work on since my insomnia kicked in. enjoy.

suguru can feel you staring at him, which he finds quite hilarious.

you on the other hand? you were fuming. or at least trying to.

because you know the argument you just had with suguru wasn’t really an argument, and that you were probably being dramatic and absolutely—no, certainly needed to hear suguru laugh again —he laughed so hard that he had tears in his eyes and you could feel your face heating up.

god, he was so fucking attractive.

so the question was—do you have a crush on me?

suguru had responded with—we have been married for four years. which was obviously the wrong answer and your husband should’ve known that.

“okay so you hate me.”

“baby, I married you.”

“what if someone dared you to?” to which suguru grimaced at.

“I’m not 15.”

“oh but you wish you were.”

stepping closer to you, making sure that he can still see the pancakes from his spot just in case they burn, suguru bends down to your level. “what does that mean baby?”

you try your best to unaffected by the close proximity, this was your husband for fuck’s sake. but even years later, the brown of his eyes makes you feel weak in the knees.

“you’d be the age where you hadn’t met me yet.” you add with a roll to your eyes, crossing your arms over your puffed out chest.

it catches suguru off guard, but he is clearly enjoying the little show you were putting on. because a few moments later, he is resting his forehead on your shoulder and his entire body trembles.

“what— are you laughing?!”

your husband cradles your face in his hands, pulling away from your shoulder to kiss your lips while you jokingly push him away.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry that was just so—“

“don’t talk to me! you don’t even take me seriously anymore!”

“I do! I just didn’t expect that kind of response.” he tries to reason with you, but to no avail.

and so now you were on the couch pouting, and he was sitting on the other side of the couch with a plate of pancakes.

“are you sure you don’t want some pancakes?”

“I wish I put poison in them.” you mutter under your breath, and suguru still thinks you’re the funniest person alive.

“a murderer announcing how they’re going to kill their target?” he teases, leaning closer to you while you pretend to stare anywhere but at his face.

“yeah and I would make sure no one finds your body.”

“how would you do that, baby?” you raise an eyebrow at him, and he mirrors your action, bringing his face closer to you. “I am kind of a big guy. wouldn’t that be a hassle to you?”

screw him for knowing how to make you fold.

“…I would have anger fueled strength.”

he gasps dramatically. “anger fueled?”

you nod. “because you hate me.”

“because I said I married you.”

“which was basically ignoring the question ‘do you have a crush on me?’ so yeah.”

“interesting.”

“to someone who’s full of disdain and hatred, yes it would be very interesting.”

the longer suguru stared at you, the more he effortlessly towered over you on the couch, the harder it was to keep the act going. his brown eyes stare deeply into your soul as he sets the plate down, turning to face you.

it’s silent at first, just his eyes staring at you and your face slowly warming up under his intense gaze.

“…what?” you finally break the silence, blinking repeatedly.

“four years down the road, and you still blink so much when you’re nervous.”

a habit no one noticed, not even your own mother. your eyes get watery when you’re nervous, they’re truly the mirror to your soul—

of course suguru would know that better than anyone else.

you sit there, lips parted in awe at his words and your face feeling like a furnace. if there was any person in the world who could make you feel like a teenager falling in love for the first time, it would be suguru.

“..sounds like you have a crush on me or something.” you mumble under your breath, trying your best not to crack under his gaze and he laughs, leaning in to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“maybe, who knows?”

2025 © all works belong to @slttygeto. do not repost, translate or steal any of my works.

[mwphisto]

LaDs pairings and my personal headcanons on their dynamics

Warning, this post contains: threesomes, polyamorous relationships, male x male x female dynamics, mentions of dom/sub play and dynamics.

A/N: just a silly little post about the various love and deepspace pairings and what I headcanon their throuple / threesome dynamic to be like :3 also this looks way better on mobile than desktop so forgive me for my aesthetic needs lmfaoooo

Xavier x Rafayel x Reader (StarFish)

Cutest name among the pairings first of all

Possibly controversial but I think Rafayel mainly tops in this dynamic… here me out

Xavier is a freak in the sheets but compared to Rafayel? He’s very mellow. He’s so focused on you and your needs that he can drown out some of Rafayel’s antics when getting down to it.

It’s not until Xavier snaps that Rafayel is the center of attention. You and Xavier team up to put the brat of your trio in his rightful place.

Not saying Rafayel loves it… but he loves it.

Xavier x Zayne x Reader (StarSnow)

The silent but deadly duo (lmfao)

I think these two are fighting for dominance while also being civil about it? Taking turns if you will.

In this trio, you are definitely the sub with your two doms. Very little room for switching imo

It’s very rare that you get a chance to top either of them, the two of them always being two steps ahead and getting you railed until you can’t see straight.

Xavier x Sylus x Reader (StarCrow)

Prepare to never feel your legs again.

You are once again the sub in this pairing, but with some free reigns thanks to Sylus

You and Sylus like to team up on Xavier, making the prince of Philos see the stars in which he came from by the time the two of you are done with him

Xavier and Sylus have…wrestled… much to your amusement but Sylus typically always comes out on top. Mostly thanks to his evol and size. Not that Xavier is complaining… he secretly enjoys it.

Xavier x Caleb x Reader (StarApple)

They bicker all the time, they’re always fighting for your attention.

They’re both headstrong, needing to be in control and both equally as obsessed with your pleasure.

Someway, somehow, Caleb manages to get Xavier to give up — his evol held he man down — and you had a time riding him until he was a sobbing mess

Caleb would let the roles reverse willingly after seeing how much fun Xavier got to have being under you.

Rafayel x Zayne x Reader (SnowFish)

We’re looking at two bratty subs with their tamer

You and Rafayel are menaces when together, in and out of the bedroom. Poor Zayne (he fucking loves it)

A common position is you riding Rafayel within an inch of his life while Zayne holds you by your hair and helps himself to your… back door.

Roles have also been reversed, with Rafayel getting fucked senseless while trying not to slobber all over your pussy — and failing miserably in the process.

Rafayel x Sylus x Reader (CrowFish)

Sylus gets off watching you and Rafayel play.

He often partakes in the activities, don’t get me wrong, but he has a thing for watching you and Rafayel get each other off. The struggle of two switches trying not to fall into submissive tendencies… and failing. Cute.

Though, it’s not always the case, when Sylus is involved, Rafayel gets feral. You’re not leaving that bed with working legs… or any feeling in your lower half for that matter. It’s your turn to get fucked within an inch of your life and be pampered on for the coming days.

More than one bed has been replaced…

Rafayel x Caleb x Reader (AppleFish)

Kings of yearning…and stalking… and trying to act like they didn’t plot everything ever.

They initially hate each other, then they realize how likeminded they are and it’s game over for you.

They are torturing you low-key, expect to be tied up, edged until you're sobbing, and then overstimulated until you're begging them to stop. And, spoiler, they won't stop.

Evil ass dynamic for real, they feed off of each other's dramatics

Zayne x Sylus x Reader (SnowCrow)

Oh bitch. Maybe I'm biased (I am) but this combo is elite.

You've got three brat tamers who can all be brats. A group of switches if you will. Couple broken beds with Sylus and Raf? You're looking at multiple broken beds, couches, tables, chairs, fucking destroyed bathrooms, ruined carpets, you get the idea.

You are ruined every time, even if you're on top. You've gotta call out of work the next day, Zayne goes to work limping, Sylus is overly smug about the whole thing

You can plot against each other and still end up fucked stupid

Zayne x Caleb x Reader (SnowApple)

Zayne is putting y'all in your rightful places. Caleb thinks he has a shot at dominating Zayne and is sorely mistaken by the end of it. You really did try to warn him too, now he can't even walk.

Linkon's best surgeon has a time putting Linkon's best hunter and the Farspace Fleet's colonel in their places. Fucking them both to damn tears is is specialty.

We're looking at one dominant with two switches who lean towards bratty subs whether they want to or not

Punishments go crazy with this throuple

Sylus x Caleb x Reader (CrowApple)

You've never known Caleb to be shy until Sylus gets involved. Caleb couldn't stand him, Sylus found it utterly amusing. You? You just enjoyed the show.

Sylus forced Caleb to watch as he fucked you stupid, tears streaming down your face while he's balls deep and kissing you senseless. In the end, Caleb came untouched and realized that being a brat against Sylus would result in real punishment.

Even with his gravity evol, Caleb can't win against Bossman. And either way, you get to have the time of your life with both of your lovers trying - and failing - to work it out.

Either way, you'll be getting wrecked daily... multiple times.

[andy-15-07]

Hi! I.m not sure if your requests are still open of if this is where we ask for them and if its not im sorry. I was wondering if you could do something with Joel where he finds her when he is trying to save Ellie. He finds out that reader is also immune and the fireflies were gonna kill her too. So he saves her and he becomes the only person she trusts and doesn't really talk to anyone but him when they get back to Jackson. Joel slowly falls in love with her and one day on patrol he kisses her because they almost died and he think it's now or never. if not it's all good. Thanks!

Something Better

PAIRING: Joel Miller x reader

WORD COUNT: 1290 | requests are open (send requests, I will gladly answer them all)

Pedro Pascal Masterlist

It had been days since Joel had seen another human face that wasn’t trying to kill him.

Ellie was gone. Taken by the Fireflies.

His boots were soaked with blood and melting snow as he moved through the sterile white halls of the hospital, heart pounding, rifle tight in his grip. He’d done the unthinkable already. The doctors were dead. Marlene too. All for Ellie.

But just as he turned a corner toward the recovery wing, he heard a voice. Not Ellie’s. Quieter. Raspy. And scared.

"Please don’t take me back. Please... I didn’t say yes."

Joel froze.

He stepped closer and peered into one of the observation rooms. A girl, maybe a few years older  than Ellie, lay strapped to a hospital bed. Her arms were bruised from needles and restraints. She had dark circles under her eyes, lips dry, and skin pale,but she was very much alive.

And awake.

Her eyes widened when she saw him.

"Are you here to kill me too?"

Joel lowered his gun immediately. "No, darlin'. I ain't here to hurt you."

She looked so tired. So damn scared.

"They said I was like her. The other immune one. But I didn’t want this. They were going to cut into my brain."

Joel’s heart dropped. Another one? Another immune girl, treated like cargo. An experiment.

He crossed the room in two strides and started undoing the straps. "You're getting outta here. What's your name?"

She hesitated. "Y/N."

"Y/N, I'm Joel. We don’t have much time. Come on."

The drive back to Jackson was quiet. Ellie was unconscious in the backseat, safe, and Y/N sat next to Joel in the passenger seat, barely speaking.

She didn’t ask questions. Didn’t cry. Just sat still, staring out the window like she was trying to memorize the world in case it disappeared again.

Joel offered her food. Blankets. Water. Nothing made her flinch except when he touched her wrist by accident.

"Sorry," he muttered.

She shook her head, finally speaking, voice a whisper. "Not your fault. You didn’t put me there. You got me out."

Back in Jackson, life was... different.

Y/N was placed in a spare cabin. Ellie healed. People smiled again. But Y/N? She didn’t talk to anyone. Didn’t trust anyone.

Except Joel.

When she did talk, it was to him. In quiet places. On patrol. On walks. In the early morning when the rest of the town was asleep. She felt safest with Joel.

"You ever think about leaving?" she asked once, during a patrol.

"Used to. Not anymore."

"Why not?"

He looked at her. "Because you’re here. Ellie’s here. It’s the first time in twenty years I got somethin' to lose."

She turned her face away, hiding her blush. But Joel saw it.

They grew close. Closer than Joel expected.

He’d find excuses to patrol with her. She’d bring him coffee. They’d share quiet dinners. She’d sit by his fire when sleep wouldn’t come. And Joel? He found himself watching her laugh. Noticed the way her eyes crinkled. The way she said his name like it meant something.

He was falling.

Hard.

The day it all changed started like any other patrol.

Snow. Footprints. Clickers in the woods.

But when one came too close, too fast, Joel almost didn’t react in time.

Y/N did.

She threw herself between him and the infected, burying her machete into its throat. It collapsed at her feet.

Joel’s heart nearly stopped.

"Jesus," he rasped, grabbing her shoulders. "What the hell were you thinking?!"

She was panting, wild-eyed. "I thought it was gonna get you."

"So you just threw yourself in the way?!"

"Yeah! Because I care about you, Joel!"

Silence.

Their breath came in clouds. His hands were still gripping her coat.

"You what?"

She swallowed. "You heard me."

He didn’t wait. He kissed her.

Joel pulled away just enough to look her in the eyes. "I thought I lost you. I ain’t never felt that scared in my life. Not since Sarah. Not even with Ellie."

Y/N blinked, her chest rising and falling, trying to keep pace with the thundering of her heart. Joel's hand was still warm at her jaw, thumb brushing back and forth like he was memorizing the feel of her.

"Joel," she whispered. "You kissed me."

"I know. Shouldn't have done it like that, not out here. But hell... you got in front of that Clicker for me. And it hit me,I can't lose you. Not after everything."

Her eyes softened. She took his hand from her jaw and held it between hers. "I didn’t jump in front of it for fun. I did it because I care about you. More than I should. You’re the only one I trust."

He swallowed. Hard. "Do you... wanna go back to Jackson? We can talk more. Just you and me."

She nodded, cheeks flushed. "Yeah. Let’s go home."

They rode in silence the rest of the way, but their hands kept brushing. When they got to Jackson, the world was quieter, more forgiving. Snow lined the rooftops, horses snorted in the early dusk, and families bustled behind closed doors.

Joel led her to his house instead of hers. She didn’t fight it.

"You warm enough?" he asked after hanging up their jackets.

Y/N nodded. Her fingers itched to reach for him again. Instead, she paced a little, unsure.

Joel moved to the kitchen, poured two mugs of tea,one with a splash of whiskey, just how she liked it. When he handed it to her, their fingers brushed again.

"Joel, about what happened out there,"

"Let me say it first," he interrupted gently. "I've been fighting how I feel. Since the day I met you. You were scared, covered in blood and bruises when I pulled you out of that Firefly hospital. And yet, you looked at me like I was the only safe thing left in the world. I didn’t deserve that."

"You saved my life."

"So did you. You don't even talk to most people. You talk to me. Trust me. That means somethin'."

Y/N stepped closer. "It means everything. Joel, you're the first person I've felt...safe with. Like I'm not a science experiment. Not just 'the other immune girl.'"

He reached out, thumb brushing her cheek again. "You ain't just any girl, Y/N. You're strong. Brave. Kind, even after all you've been through. And goddamn if I haven’t been fallin' in love with you a little more every day."

She inhaled sharply. Her chest ached in the best way.

"I love you too," she said. "Even when you scowl. Especially then."

He laughed, quiet and rough, and closed the distance.

The kiss this time was slower. More certain. His hands slid around her waist and hers curled into the collar of his flannel. His lips were warm, chapped, familiar. The sound of their breath, the creak of the floorboards, the soft knock of teeth. All of it was them.

They moved together like they’d been waiting years.

Hours later, they sat curled on his worn couch, her legs draped over his, her head on his chest.

"You ever think about what comes next?" she asked softly.

Joel rubbed lazy circles into her back. "Used to be, I didn’t. Was too busy surviving. But now... with you? Yeah. I think about a lot."

She looked up at him, eyes glassy but sure. "I want a life. Not just surviving. A real life. With you."

Joel leaned in, kissed her temple. "Then we’ll make one. Right here. Together."

Outside, the wind howled. But inside, Joel held her like she was the last soft thing in the world.

And for the first time in years, she believed in something better than survival.

She believed in them.

[whumpsday]

Next of Kin

@medwhumpmay Day 10

Medwhump May Masterlist

content: pet whump, caretaker new master, neglect, rescue, avian hybrid whumpee

-

Inheriting an exotic bird from an uncle they barely knew would already be a huge pain if that bird wasn’t also six feet tall with a wingspan twice that.

Caretaker pulled up at their uncle’s house. They knew, most likely, they’d been chosen because they were close enough physically to make the drive comfortable for the bird, but not close enough emotionally to have already said no. They had been given no instructions other than what they could find on the internet, and everyone seemed to have wildly varying opinions on the best way to take care of these things.

At the very least, hybrids were capable of speech. Not mimicking like a regular parrot, but actual understanding. So the bird could probably just tell them what it needed.

They unlocked the door with the key their mom had given them. “Hello?”

“Hello?” a voice called back, a timid mirror of their own.

Caretaker walked toward the sound–it wasn’t hard to spot him.

The man before her couldn’t be described any way but beautiful, but not the way you’d call a human beautiful. He was covered in colorful feathers from head to toe, only his face and hands revealing that he also had skin. Reds, yellows, greens, and blues blended together wondrously, and it looked so incredibly out-of-place in a cage in their uncle’s old house.

He shied back, massive wings folded around him almost like a blanket. “Hello?” he repeated. The cage was large, definitely the largest of any kind Caretaker had seen, even big enough for Whumpee to stand up or lay down. Though they doubted Whumpee could unfurl his wings in there. It was decorated with various toys and enrichment, which he was wholly ignoring at the moment.

“Hi. I’m Caretaker. I’m going to be taking care of you from now on, I guess?” They spoke softly, trying not to spook Whumpee further.

“He’s not coming back?” the bird asked.

“No. He died. I’m sorry,” Caretaker said, awkward and stiff. How were they supposed to break the news of an owner’s death to his pet, who knew him a lot better than they ever did? “He was my uncle.”

Whumpee nodded slowly. He didn’t seem overly sad, at least. They weren’t sure if that was a good thing or not. “I can leave the cage?”

“Yeah. You’re coming to my place. Listen–I’ve never met a hybrid before, let alone taken care of one. So you’re gonna have to help me out here. Can you point out anything we need to take with us?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee pointed to the opposite wall with an uncomfortably human-looking finger. Hanging there was a key rack, only one key remaining on it.

“Oh. Sure,” they said.

What was the worst that could happen? The bird flies away or something? Honestly, Caretaker half-hoped it would happen. Not their problem and not entirely their fault.

They unlocked the cage, and Whumpee waited for them to step away before cautiously exiting. He shook himself out in the center of the living room, stretching his wings to their full length, managing to touch each wall with the tips of his wings. His arms reached up, reveling in the increase in space.

“Comfy?” Caretaker asked, and Whumpee startled, head whipping around like he’d forgotten they were there.

“Yes.” His wings drooped, brushing the floor, and he hunched over a little, so he almost appeared shorter than Caretaker. “I can take whatever I want?”

“Only your things,” they clarified. “Whatever my uncle got for you specifically. I’ll let you know if it’s something you can’t take.”

“Do I have to take everything?” he asked, head tilted.

Ah.

The cage. It was clear he hated it, and frankly, keeping a depressed man in a cage in their home sounded like the least appealing thing in the world. Not only that, but it definitely wouldn’t fit in their car.

“We can leave the cage,” Caretaker said. “Take everything else, though. Even if you don’t think you’ll need it, better to have it just in case.”

Whumpee didn’t smile, but his eyes widened and gleamed in excitement. “No more cage? Or you have a different one? Is it bigger or smaller?”

“No cage. Just don’t mess with my things and we’ll be fine?” they suggested. Maybe viewing this as a sort of roommate situation would be better. A roommate who doesn’t pay rent and just sits around looking pretty. Something like that.

“I’ll be good,” Whumpee promised. “I don’t pick at things. I don’t take things that don’t belong to me. I’m a good bird.” The way he said it was slightly unnatural, like he was reciting something from memory.

Caretaker gave him two thumbs up. “Awesome. I’ll open the trunk and start throwing in anything that looks obviously yours.”

Together they gathered up bags of food, the toys and water bottle from inside the cage, a large dog bed. “Good bird, good bird,” Whumpee murmured to himself. Whenever he gathered something, he simply left it by the front door while Caretaker carried it to the car.

Guess I don’t have to worry about him running away.

“That’s all of my things.” Whumpee carried the key to the cage, though Caretaker had left it back on the key rack. They didn’t bother to take it from him.

“Alright. Ready to go?” Caretaker asked.

Whumpee tilted his head, gazing out the door. “I’m not allowed outside.”

Caretaker sighed. “I’m allowing you outside.”

Just then, a car drove past. Not even a particularly fast car. Whumpee bristled, scurrying back into the house, eyes wide.

Oh, he was scared.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Caretaker approached him like a frightened animal, which they supposed he was. “It’s safe. I’m not gonna let anything happen to you. Just gonna walk to the car, and you can have the whole backseat to yourself, and it’s like twenty minutes to my place. When we get there, you can explore your new home. I’ve got a balcony where you can stretch out as much as you want. I even bought some treats you can have.” Though it sounded a little too patronizing now that they’d met him. They reached out a hand. “How’s that sound?”

He didn’t take it. “What is a balcony?”

“It’s like, a little outside platform connected to an apartment. It’s not super big, but there’s no walls, just a railing, so you don’t have to worry about bumping into anything. And you don’t have to worry about anything outside either, ‘cause it’s a floor up and enclosed,” Caretaker explained patiently. “Wanna come see it?”

Whumpee listened to their explanation like a child learning about Santa Claus for the first time. This time, he did take their hand, small, soft feathers fading down the back of his own. “Yes. I would like that.”

-

Oneshots taglist:

@icyheart-and-friends

@kira-the-whump-enthusiast

@whuarri

@reborrowing

@paperprinxe

@what-if-i-just-did

Everything taglist:

@lilac-and-lemon-whumps

@t0rture-me

@whump-for-all-and-all-for-whump

@whumpshaped

@pigeonwhumps

@the-scrapegoat

@whumpycries

@lonesome--hunter

@whumpy-wyrms

@all-hail-pigeons

@wolfeyedwitch

@starfields08000

@jumpywhumpywriter

@scoundrelwithboba

[oopsiedaisydeer]

ᴀʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴄᴀʀᴇᴅ ʏᴇᴛ

…𝘪𝘯 𝘸𝘩𝘪𝘤𝘩 𝘩𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘰𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘢𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵𝘴 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 𝘴𝘱𝘰𝘰𝘬𝘺 𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘧𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯

friends to lovers, office romance, halloween, light angst, fluff, miscommunication, slow burn, humour, mutual pining

word count - 1k

The first thing Dotty hears on Halloween morning, aside from her coworker’s bluetooth speaker blasting Monster Mash in the hallway, is her boss saying the word “fire.”

She’s in his office with a notepad in hand, doing her best to write down the instructions he’s giving her about the costume contest (“put Dana in charge, she’s got glitter”) when he lowers his voice and mumbles into his phone:

“Yeah, I know. Someone’s gotta go. I just don’t understand why you’ve given me such a short deadline with this.”

Dotty blinks. The pen in her hand freezes. Her boss notices her silence, waves a hand, and mouths something like not you. But that doesn't settle the knot forming behind her ribs.

She’s still thinking about it twenty minutes later when she finds Matt sitting at his desk, peeling the wrapper off a mini twix bar and already wearing his costume, a wrinkled white shirt, a crooked tie, and a name tag that says Manager in Comic Sans.

“Are you… supposed to be the boss?” she asks, folding her arms.

Matt gives her a guilty smile. “Too much?”

Dotty shrugs, trying not to smile. “He’ll probably love it.”

He cocks his head. “You okay?”

And that’s when she blurts, “Someone’s getting fired.”

Matt’s face stills. “Wait, what?”

She sits down on the edge of his desk, notebook tucked against her chest. “I heard him on the phone. He said someone’s gotta go. I think it’s real.”

Matt leans back in his chair, wheels creaking. “It’s gotta be someone from accounting.”

Dotty winces. “Don’t say that.”

“Come on,” Matt argues, opening another piece of candy. “Should be Wyatt. He definitely has a secret YouTube channel for reviews of office chairs. And he knows what the difference between a number one and two pencil is.”

“He's… enthusiastic.”

“He's terrifying,” Matt corrects.“We should post his resume online. Just in case. Help him get a head start.”

Dotty stares. “That is wildly unethical.”

Matt grins. “So is using the work printer to print Taylor Swift trivia for your lunch breaks.”

“…Fine,” she says, laughing now. “But only because he definitely listed ‘karate’ as a soft skill.”

By noon, Operation Resume is in full swing.

They find a Word doc titled Wyatt_FINAL_REAL_ONE.docx in the shared drive and give it a little polish. Dotty adds buzzwords like synergistic and innovative mindset. Matt lists Wyatt’s hometown as “the cloud.”

Then Matt takes it one step further.

“Someone actually wants to do a phone interview,” he tells her, mid-afternoon, holding his desk phone like it might explode. “Should I… be him?”

“No,” Dotty says, trying to hide the smile in her voice. “Definitely not.”

He does it anyway.

She watches him lower his voice two octaves and say things like “I pride myself on punctuality and moral excellence.” He ends the call by solemnly stating, “I’ll speak to my superiors and get back to you.”

“You are going to hell,” she says, giggling into her sleeve.

It’s late when things go wrong.

Dotty’s helping clean up pumpkin guts in the breakroom, Matt leaning against the counter beside her with a soda can and his tie crooked.

He looks too handsome for his own good.

“Hey,” he says. “So… about that job offer.”

Dotty glances over.

“It was kinda real,” he says, trying to sound casual. “Like, it’s a startup. It pays better than here, but they said they want someone ‘creative’. I dunno.”

Dotty bites the inside of her cheek.

She doesn’t want him to leave. But she’s not allowed to say that. Not when she’s just the receptionist. Not when they’re just friends. Colleagues.

So she makes herself smile.

“You should take it.”

Matt goes quiet.

Dotty keeps talking, hoping it doesn’t sound nervous or like begging. “You’re… like, you’re smart. And funny. You get stuff done without being weird about it. You care about people, even if you act like you don’t. You don’t belong here forever.”

Matt nods. Too quickly. His mouth pulls into a flat line.

“Oh,” he says. “Right. Yeah. No, you’re right.”

He won’t look at her.

Dotty blinks. Something’s wrong.

“Just, you deserve it. Don’t undersell yourself.”

But Matt’s already brushing her off, his voice light and unreadable. “Right, well… I’ve gotta, um, go help with the cleanup. Wyatt’s skeleton lost a leg.”

And he walks away.

Dotty’s left standing in front of the fridge, hands sticky with pumpkin seeds, heart quietly breaking in her chest.

Just as it nears 4:30pm , Wyatt sends an all-office email:

Subject: WHO POSTED MY RESUME Hello. I received a job offer from a company I did not apply to. I have informed legal. I am no mutineer. Best, Wyatt Future CEO

Dotty reads the email twice before snorting into her coffee.

She finds Matt in the breakroom twenty minutes later, loading the dishwasher. He doesn’t say anything when she walks in. He just nods. She’s not used to that with Matt.

Dotty leans against the counter beside him.

“I didn’t mean I wanted you to go,” she says softly.

Matt stills.

“I meant it like… I believe in you. That’s all.”

He finally looks at her.

“I thought you meant you wouldn’t care if I left,” he says, voice quieter than she’s ever heard it.

Dotty swallows.

“Well, I would. I’d care a lot.”

A warm, slightly uncomfortable silence settles between them.

Then Matt smiles. Crooked and shy, a little lopsided.

“I’d miss you,” he says. “More than I’d miss the broken coffee machine and the boss’s 11 a.m. inspirational speeches in the conference room.”

Dotty bumps his arm with hers.

“I’d miss you too,” she says. “Even if you never refill the paper in the printer.”

They catch each other’s eyes for a moment, both genuinely happy.

“Guess I’m staying,” Matt says, grinning.

Dotty rolls her eyes. “For now.”

That night, as everyone leaves and the last pumpkin gets tossed in the bin, Matt walks her to her car.

She’s still wearing bits from her costume, and he’s got candy stuffed in his pockets from the communal bucket.

Before she unlocks the door, he says:

“If I ever do leave… I’ll, uh, make sure you know first.”

Dotty smiles, a little sad at the mention of him actually leaving.

“Good,” she says. “I’d want to say goodbye.”

He nods, soft and sincere, then turns to go. But not before he glances back with, “See you tomorrow, Dotty.”

“See you.”

dividers by @bernardsbendystraws ꨄ

a/n: sbsbfsdjbf trying to get more worldbuiding into this au, so i hope you enjoyed !! also ik it isn't halloween but this is the episode we're up to in the show and it's autumn where i live so :p

[towasdandelion]

Hi can you make Vagastrom and Frostheim with "Someone flirts with you" Please?

Yessss of course hehehe, it was in my plans! I hope you like it (⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)

What happens when someone flirts with you while your ghoul bestie is away?

Vagastrom and Frostheim ghouls when someone else flirts with you

Leo pretends not to care, only to show up at the scene anyway. He rolls his eyes the moment he spots you from a distance. Taking out his phone, he opens the camera app as he walks over to you. "I know she's an easy target, but what the fuck? Do you really think you have a chance or something?" He absolutely humiliates the guy, calling him names before dragging you away with him. He starts whining about how you owe him now and how he always has to save you. All the while, he's holding your hand in his...

Alan’s alarms go off, and he’s by your side in an instant, towering over the other student. He doesn’t even have to say a word - the student goes pale and takes a few steps back. Just as the guy is about to speak, Alan interrupts. “Save it. I don’t want to see you around her ever again. Understood?” The student just nods quickly and walks away. Now Alan can focus on making sure you're okay and.. scolding you. A girl like you shouldn’t be wandering around Vagastrom on her own, he says. I wonder what "a girl like you" is supposed to mean.

Sho frowns when he sees a student he knows bothering you. Looked like he chose you as his next target. Sho walks up and throws an arm over your shoulder. “What, finally noticed how cute she is? Too late.” Not giving the guy a chance to react, he swiftly whisks you away from the scene. Once it's just the two of you, he starts asking questions. You didn’t seem to know who the guy was, so Sho feels obligated to warn you about him. He also asks you to call him if anyone ever bothers you again. Better safe than sorry. Not that he's just trying to get rid of the competition or anything.

Jin was about to get back to whatever he was doing, but then he pauses. There's a guy bothering his maid right now and for some reason he can't ignore that. So he shows up just in time to see the guy’s hand reach toward you. “If you reach for something that’s not yours ever again, I won’t be this gentle” Jin says, grabbing the student’s arm and twisting it. The guy yelps in pain and quickly promises it won’t happen again. Only then does Jin let him go. And don’t think he came to save you or anything. He just happened to need to tell you something. Why is he dragging you to his room now? No idea.

Tohma quickly arrives by your side, flashing his polite smile before speaking. "Is this how you think girls should be treated? Allow me to give you a lesson. Make sure to pay attention." He then proceeds to gently bring your hand to his lips and kisses it, asking if you're okay. Was it a bit theatrical? Maybe. But it demonstrated perfectly how close you and Thoma were. Doesn't matter you're not a couple, it still sent a clear sign for the the guy to back off. The student mutters an apology and leaves. Tohma swears he just wanted to teach the guy some manners, but the look in his eyes tells a different story.

Lucas was literally born to do this. He's a gentleman, so he definitely won't ignore the situation. His steps are calm and confident, and you can see the soft smile on his face as he approaches you and the student. "Excuse me but I don't think she feels very comfortable in your presence. Would you mind keeping your distance?" The student blinks in confusion - Where did this guy even come from? And why is he being so... polite? But once he notices Luca's Frostheim uniform the guy decides to just back away, leaving you alone. After making sure you're okay Luca will escort you back to your dorm, just in case someone else wants to bother you.

Kaito... He won't stand for someone else trying to snatch his girl!!! Doesn't matter that you don't even know that yet, he will confess one day! And until that day comes he will make sure to literally act like a guard dog, trying to shoo any potential competition away. "You know she knows Jin Kamurai right? Yeah I wouldn't risk it if I were you haha" Literally using Jin as a shield but hey, it worked! The student even thanked Kaito for warning him before walking away... Well, the blonde claims the guy was a weirdo anyways so he just saved you. No need to thank him!

[gallavichsreddie1128]

You Have A Wife? (John Walker)

Description: John is keeping his family a secret from the team until she wants to meet them.

Word Count: 1,392

John had managed to keep his wife a secret from the team (besides Bucky) for a good month after they were listed as the New Avengers. Y/N wanted to meet the team and tell him that she was pregnant with their second child. John was very hesitant about it, given how the others were and he never wanted to bring her in harm's way.

Bucky was respectful and kept John’s personal life a secret from the others too. Though the question remaining was why John didn’t live at the tower like the rest of them. Yelena and Ava came up with the theory that he was stuck up and thought he was better than them but that just wasn’t the case. “Baby please!” She pouted on facetime as she brought it up again. John sighed, “I don’t know.” “Why not?” He bit his lip and looked away from the camera, “These are my co-workers, co-workers that aren’t the best people and I like that you’re safe and away from all the bullshit.” He says and looks back at the camera.

“John, You can’t hide me forever. I wanna go to events with you and be there in person to support you and I don’t know maybe we can move into the tower-” “No. We definitely aren’t moving into the tower.” He cuts her off. She rolled her eyes. He could be very difficult sometimes. “They never question you on why you don’t live there?” She asked. “All the time. It’s none of their business.” “John, they are like a family to you and-”  “No, you and Y/S/N are my family.” Her face dropped. “Look, I have to go, see ya tonight. Love you” She hung up, she was pissed at him and he could tell. “Fuck.” He sighed and set his phone aside. 

Bucky was training in the gym when John decided to go talk to him. He was the only one who knew about Y/N and his son, “Hey Buck, you got a second?” John asked as he entered the gym. Bucky stopped what he was doing and turned to John, “What do you need?” John sighed, “It’s Y/N, she wants to come meet the team.” “So introduce her to them.” He said and John shook his head, “I don’t know how I feel about bringing her into all of this.” He said as he sat down. “I’m sure everyone will like her and she won’t be in harm's way. It’ll explain why you don’t live here.” Bucky pointed out. “She also wants to move into the tower.” Bucky thought that wasn’t a terrible idea but he saw the look on John’s face. The last thing John needed was to have Y/N in any danger. “Hey man, I seriously think she’ll be okay and if you move in here, she’ll have all the protection she needs.” Bucky pointed out and that made John’s face soften, maybe he was right.

Y/N had just put Y/S/N down for bed when John got home, she was still mad at him but knew that he had his reasons. “How was your day?” She asked as she walked into the living room. John smiled at the sight of her, she was wearing PJ pants and a black t-shirt that was too big for her. “Better now that I’m here with you.” He walked up to her and pulled her in for a kiss.

“Mmm you are cheesy.” She stated and kissed him back. “Is Y/S/N sleeping?” John asked and she nodded. John woke him up and Y/N put him to sleep,the boy was going on 2 now. “I wanna talk to you about something.” He said as she stepped away from him. “I-I wanna bring you to the tower tomorrow, you and Y/S/N.” Her eyes lit up at his words, a big smile forming on her face. “Really?” She asked and he nodded. She jumped in his arms and kissed him, “Thank you, Thank you.” She said against his lips causing him to laugh.

Y/N was nervous and excited to meet her husband’s team. She was thinking about it all morning after he left. What if they didn’t like her? She was aware that they weren’t a fan of him so what if her being with him makes them hate her? She shook her head trying to rid of those thoughts as she got ready. “Are you ready to meet daddy’s friends?” Y/N asked their son as she buckled him up. “Yay.” Y/N laughed as her son cheered.

The tower was only 10 minutes from their house. She got out and sent a text to John saying that they were there. John came out a few minutes later and Y/S/N ran up to him, “Hi buddy!” He said and picked him up. He was in training clothes and looked so good. Y/N walked up to him and pecked his cheek, “You look good.” She whispered and he blushed. 

John, himself, was nearly shitting his pants as he walked them to the others. This was his world in his arms and next to him, this was a big moment. The others were lounging around when they walked in, Yelena looked up and her face was full of confusion. “Who’s this?” Bucky waved at Y/N. “This is my son and my wife.” Everyone’s jaw dropped besides Bucky. “What?” “You have a wife?” “Someone would marry you?” Was heard through the room. Y/S/N hid his face in John’s neck, “Hi everyone, I’m Y/N.” Ava stood up and went to greet her, “I’m Ava.” Everyone introduced themselves besides Bucky.

“Good to see you.” Bucky smiled. “You knew?” Yelena asked and Bucky nodded. “Who’s this?” Ava asked and Y/S/N pulled away from his dad’s neck. “Y/S/N.” He said quietly and Ava smiled. “Aren’t you just the cutest? You get your looks from your mom?” Y/N smiled and laughed at that. “John has a child!” Alexei announced. “Children.” Y/N said and placed a hand on her stomach. John looked over at her, “What?” She smiled at him, “I’m pregnant.” She said and everyone cheered. “Congratulations!” Bucky said. “We’re having another baby?” John asked in a soft voice, tears in his eyes. “Yes.” She said and took Y/S/N, “Someone’s gonna be a big brother.” Y/S/N giggled.

“So this is why you aren’t living here.” Yelena said and he nodded. “Well I did try to get him to let us move here.” John shook his head. “You should and we take care of baby and have fun.” Alexei said. “Yeah and us girls can maybe get to have girls nights.” Ava suggested. “And Gossip. I need to know how this happened.” Yelena motioned between John and Y/N. “Of course. See John this would be great.” Y/S/N was trying to get out of John’s arms. John set him down and he went over to Bucky, “Hey little man.” Bucky said and Y/S/N reached for his metal arm.

“Cool.” He said and Bucky laughed, “Isn’t it? I take down bad guys with it.” “I wanna be a hero, like my daddy.” John’s face dropped at that, he was no hero. Y/N pulled him close to her, “Hey.” He looked over at her, “He loves you and he’s always gonna idolize you.” She whispered. “How about John makes us dinner?” Y/N asked the group. “Hey!” She laughed at his response.

“You know I do kind of miss the helmet.” Y/N said to him as they all ate dinner. “You liked the helmet?” Yelena asked and Y/N shook her head. “Oh when he first put it on he looked like the old man from UP but with a beard I gotta say I do like it.” She said and Alexei laughed the loudest. “That’s a good one. I haven’t heard that one before.” “Maybe I can bring it back.” John said, “No!” Everyone responded.

Y/N laughed and looked over at Y/S/N, Bob was talking to him. “I think you bring the good out in him.” Ava said and Y/N smiled. “Yeah?” “Yeah we need you around like all the time.” John rolled his eyes and Y/N hugged his arm. “Like maybe move into the tower.” Yelena said and Y/N looked over at her husband waiting for an answer. “Maybe. I have to think about it.” He told her. It wasn’t a No, she thought as she finished eating.

[snottyped]

werewolf who will die without your attention bc of how obsessed he is 👀 constantly in your personal space, scenting you to ward off others despite not having any actual claim since you’re still just “friends” though he likes to think you just haven’t realized how much better he would be as your mate, he listens to your every word, shows you how big and strong his is, that he can take care of you, and sometimes when he’s feeling lonely he’ll sneak into your house when you go to work and goes through your dirty laundry finding your underwear and unable to stop himself from palming his erection as he smells your scent on the fabric, tastes the sweat that soaked into the cloth

home so soon?

werewolf x female reader nsfw

He’s too close again.

You barely get the front door open before he’s there, looming in your space like a shadow that breathes heavier than it should. His eyes are sharp—hungry—and his nose twitches once, twice.

Then he frowns.

“You smell different,” he mutters, stepping in before you can stop him. His hand grazes your waist as he passes, like that’s normal for friends.

“I walked past someone in the hallway,” you say, shutting the door behind him. “Calm down.”

“I am calm,” he lies. His voice is gravel low, like he’s holding back a growl. “Just don’t like it.”

He turns to face you, all broad shoulders and heat. He’s panting like he ran to your apartment even though he lives five doors down. His chest rises and falls under his hoodie, arms straining the sleeves, like he wants to do something with all this energy.

“What’d he look like?” he asks suddenly. “The guy in the hallway.”

You stare at him. “I didn’t say he was a guy.”

He stares back, unblinking.

“Okay,” you sigh. “He was tall, brown jacket, nothing special. You can relax.”

But he doesn’t.

He steps in again, slow, deliberate, crowding you against the wall. You can feel the heat rolling off him in waves, his scent thick—cedarwood, heat, him—as he tilts his head down to breathe you in.

“Still too strong,” he mutters. “Hold still.”

“What are you—?”

He presses his nose to your neck. Nuzzles you. Breathes deep like he’s trying to erase every trace of anyone else. His hands come up, not quite grabbing—just bracketing your waist like he could hold you there, if you let him.

“You know I hate it when you smell like someone else,” he whispers, voice rough.

“You don’t own me,” you say, heart pounding.

His lips curl into a smirk against your skin. “Yet.”

You shove at his chest, but it’s like trying to move a brick wall. He leans back just enough to look at you properly, and god—he looks wrecked. Like he’s been starving for your touch, your time, your attention, and today was the day he finally snapped.

“You don’t get it,” he mutters, eyes locked on your mouth like he’s about to say something dangerous. “I can’t sleep if I don’t hear your voice. Can’t think straight unless I know where you are. My wolf loses his mind when you’re not around.”

You try to say something, but he cuts you off by leaning down, brushing his nose across your cheek.

“Let me show you,” he murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

“I didn’t ask you to.”

“I want to,” he growls. “I’m meant to.”

He grabs your hand—gently, but firm—and places it on his chest. You can feel the wild beat of his heart beneath your palm.

“You feel that?” he asks. “That’s yours. It’s always been yours. You just haven’t figured it out yet.”

You stare up at him, speechless.

And then he smiles—fangs flashing just enough to make your pulse spike.

“I’ll wait. But not forever.”

You’d barely been out an hour before he let himself into your apartment.

The key you gave him “just in case”? Yeah. This was an emergency.

Your date had posted a picture.

Of you. All dressed up. Smiling. And someone else’s hand in the corner of the shot, resting way too close to your hip.

He growled the second he saw it. His wolf didn’t just stir—it howled. Scratched at his ribs. Snarled in his chest until he was pacing, breathing hard, sweat on his brow.

You weren’t answering his messages.

So now he’s here. In your room. Sitting on the edge of your bed like it’s the only place on earth that feels real.

His hands shake as they trail across your sheets, grabbing the pillow you sleep on and dragging it into his lap. He presses his face into the fabric and groans—your scent. Sweet and clean and so yours, it makes his head spin.

“I wouldn’t need this if you’d just pick me,” he mutters into the cotton, voice hoarse.

But his gaze shifts—and there it is. The laundry basket in the corner, still half-full.

He’s on it in seconds. Sifting. Searching.

And then he finds them.

Your underwear.

Soft. Thin. Still holding the heat of you in the fibers. He breathes in deep and shudders, jaw tight, eyes glowing faintly in the dim light of your room.

“I shouldn’t,” he whispers—but the words mean nothing. His hand fists in the fabric as he brings it to his mouth, tongue flicking out before he can stop himself. The taste of your skin, the trace of your sweat—it breaks something in him.

He groans, low and wrecked.

“I could make you so happy,” he murmurs, palming himself through his jeans, hips twitching. “You just don’t see it yet.”

He leans back on your bed, fists your underwear in one hand, and keeps his other wrapped tight around himself. He ruts into his palm, chest heaving, every thrust punctuated with soft, desperate sounds.

“Mine,” he growls. “You’re mine. He can’t have you.”

He bites back a moan, burying it into your pillow, and imagines your voice whispering his name. Imagines your hands on him instead. Your mouth. Your heat.

When he finally finishes, he’s gasping—sweat-damp and trembling.

He lies there in the dark, wrapped in your scent, heart still racing.

And he waits.

Because you’re coming home soon.

And next time? He’s not letting you walk out that door.

You should’ve been gone for another hour.

But your date kinda fell apart and he wasn’t really your type anyways. So, you came home early, keys jingling softly in your hand as you nudged the door open.

The air in your apartment felt… off. Room temperature sure, but a distinct smell of sweat in the air.

You stepped inside, confused. Quiet.

And then you heard it—faint, rhythmic sounds coming from your bedroom. Heavy breathing. Something low and ragged, not yours.

You moved silently, footsteps light on the floor. The door was open just an inch.

You pushed it wider.

And froze.

There—on your bed—was him.

Back curled. Shoulders trembling. Eyes closed, jaw tight with a moan that barely made it past his lips. One of your panties clutched in a clawed fist. And in his other hand—

Your breath caught.

He was pumping himself with slow, aching strokes, thick and flushed, hips twitching into the motion like he was holding back too much. His thighs were tense, the muscles in his arms shaking, sweat dampening the hair along his forearms. His body looked bigger, stretched taut with restraint.

Your laundry basket sat open beside the bed.

The pantie he held was yours—the one you’d worn to bed two nights ago. And from the way his nose buried in it between strokes, from the helpless growl that rumbled in his chest as he tasted the cloth, you didn’t need to guess what he was doing.

You stepped forward.

His eyes snapped open the moment the floor creaked. He froze.

Everything stopped. His hand. His breath. The heat that had been rising off his body like wildfire… stalled.

You whisper, “What the fuck are you doing?”

“I—I couldn’t help it,” he breathes. He sits up slowly, hands flexing on your sheets like he’s trying to ground himself. “You went out. With him. I saw the post, and—and I lost it.”

“So you broke into my apartment?” you hiss.

“You gave me a key.” His voice drops. “You trusted me.”

“To water my plants, not—this!”

He stared at you like a cornered animal. Half-wild. Guilt crashed through his expression, but it didn’t cover the arousal—the swollen flush of his cock, the gleam of precum at the tip, the way his legs wouldn’t stop trembling.

“You weren’t—” he started, then swallowed hard. “You weren’t supposed to be home.”

You shut the door behind you. Slowly.

He shifted to hide himself, but he couldn’t—not fully. Not with the size of him, not with the tension still trembling in his thighs and chest and groin.

And his ridiculously huge boner. No human could possibly take it.

“You’ve done this before.”

Silence.

You stepped closer. “Haven’t you?”

His eyes dropped. Shame darkened his face, and something deeper—something feral—pulsed underneath it. Like restraint was the only thing keeping him from begging.

“I needed to smell you,” he said, voice hoarse. “Just for a little while. Just… to be close.”

You looked down at the pantie in his hand, then at the twitching heat between his legs.

“This is how you stay close?”

A sound escaped him. A groan. Broken. “You don’t know what you do to me.”

You stepped closer still. He flinched—but didn’t move away.

“Then tell me.”

His claws flexed. His body pulsed, desperate and still leaking. “I can’t stop thinking about you. You don’t see it—you don’t feel it—but I’m always near. Watching. Listening. I hear every breath you take. I know when you’re sad. I know what your scent means when it changes.”

Your heart thudded. His voice was shaking now, like the words had been clawing inside him for weeks.

“I dream about you under me. Wrapped around me. Letting me scent you. Letting me claim you. Every time another man talks to you, I want to rip out his throat.”

His hips jerked as if the fantasy alone overwhelmed him.

“I waited. I didn’t touch you. I tried to be good. I thought maybe you’d see me. Maybe you’d realize how much I want to take care of you—how much better I’d be than any of them.”

You could feel the air thicken around him—hot, primal, ripe with suppressed need.

He looked up at you. “But you didn’t.”

You said nothing.

“So I came here,” he continued, voice almost breaking. “Because this—this is all I get. The smell of your skin on cotton. The taste of you in your sweat. It’s pathetic, I know, but it keeps me alive.”

He looked like he hated himself. So hard. So desperate. And still fucking leaking onto your sheets with your damn underwear in his hand.

You sat on the edge of the bed.

He stared at you.

Your voice was quiet, careful. “What were you thinking about… just now?”

He hesitated and you watched his jaw worked.

“I was thinking about how you’d sound,” he whispered. “Wrapped around me. Telling me I’m yours. Letting me fill you.”

He hissed softly, hips twitching again. “I’d be so good to you. I’d never let you be cold. I’d scent you every morning and every night so no one else would ever dare come near.”

You leaned closer.

“You want to be mine?”

His breath caught. A quiet nod.

You reached out and brushed a hand over his thigh—hot and twitching under your fingers. His cock throbbed.

“Then ask.”

His body shuddered. “Please,” he rasped. “Please, just once.”

A lie if you gave him a little he’d take more than a lot.

He would take everything.

“Let me show you. Let me knot you, mark you, make you mine.”

And oh, the way his voice cracked on the word mine—

It was feral. It was filthy. And it was honest.

He drops your underwear on the floor and sinks to his knees.

“I need it.”

Rough hands grip your thighs and pull you toward him—fast, greedy, shameless. His nose presses between your legs like he’s starving, mouth open, teeth grazing your inner thigh through your jeans.

“You’re soaked already,” he groans. “And I haven’t even touched you yet.”

You gasp as he hooks his fingers in your waistband and yanks your jeans down in one swift, brutal motion. He buries his face against you, licking through the fabric of your underwear, hot breath soaking through.

You whimper—hands digging into his hair—and he groans against you, so loud, so deep, you swear the air shifts around you.

“Let me taste it,” he growls. “Let me prove it.”

You don’t stop him. You can’t.

And so you let him.

[just-dreaming-marvel]

Crimson Ties ~ 21

CRIMSON TIES MASTERLIST

< previous chapter

Word Count: 2,975ish

Summary: You attend your first therapy appointment.

Warning(s): talk of rape, talk of abuse, talk of death, mental health

Note(s): Yet another emotionally draining chapter. But I think you'll really like the opening scene of the next chapter...

Reminder: I DO NOT do taglists. Please don’t ask. Please follow and interact! I appreciate any reblogs, likes, comments, and asks!

The therapist office was pristine. Too pristine for Tony. It was decorated with neutral, calming colors. There were various seating options in the waiting room, but Tony wouldn’t allow himself to take a seat. You were behind the door, hopefully talking to the therapist. It was all making Tony anxious. 

“I need to take a walk,” he mumbled.

“I’ll come with you,” Steve offered, knowing it wasn’t worth arguing with Tony.

“What if the session ends and you aren’t here, Tony?” Natasha questioned. “She asked you to be here.”

“I’ll be gone five minutes,” Tony replied. “I just need some fresh air.”

Tony stepped out onto the sidewalk, Steve close behind. His eyes scanned the streets for any sight of threats before they paused at a small shop across the street. The color flowers practically bursting from the shop had Tony’s legs moving before his brain caught up with him. Steve followed with curiosity. Tony entered the shop and looked around at all the flowers.

“I don’t know her favorite flower,” Tony breathed out, almost disappointed in himself. 

“I’m sure Y/N would just enjoy a bouquet from you, Tony,” encouraged Steve.

Tony nodded, looking at all the different flowers and premade bouquets. The young shop owner came around a display case with an excited smile.

“Hello, sir,” she greeted. “What can I help you with?”

“I need a bouquet for my… for my wife,” Tony responded, unsure of what exactly to call you.

“Okay! What’s her favorite flower?”

“Uh, I don’t know.”

“That’s okay! I have all these—“

“Could you make a bouquet with one of every flower you have in stock?”

The young woman blinked at Tony, confused. “Wh—What?”

“Money’s not an issue. I just don’t want to get this wrong.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, and I need it done quickly. She can’t know that I left.”

“Do you mind if I use a premade bouquet and add onto it?”

“Whatever it takes to grant my request.”

~~~

Your therapy session went better than you thought it would. You cried, yes, and had to talk about difficult things, but you felt somewhat lighter when you stepped out into the waiting room. Lighter, yet exhausted. Your eyes widened when you noticed Tony standing there with a large bouquet of flowers.

“What’s this?” You asked softly.

“I felt like you deserved it,” Tony shrugged. “But I didn’t know what flower was your favorite.” He carefully passed the bouquet to you. 

You examined the flowers as you held them in your arms. “I don’t have a favorite… I’ve never thought to choose one or have gotten flowers like this before.”

“Well, expect them more then. Besides, we have a lot of vases to fill up at the house.”

You nodded as Tony signaled for you to lead the way out of the office. You stepped out to the car, where Happy had the door open ready and waiting for you. You sat down in the seat, the bouquet cradled in your arms, and got comfy. By the time Tony got into the car on the other side, you were already sound asleep. Tony gave you a soft smile as he pulled off his suit jacket and carefully draped it over you. He watched you the whole way home, making sure that you were still sleeping soundly.

When Happy pulled the car up in front of house, Happy turned to look at the two in the back.

“I can keep driving, Boss,” Happy suggested quietly.

Tony sighed. “We’ve been out and about too long. I need to get some things done and she deserves a bed to sleep in… But I’m going to have to wake her.” Tony slid across the seat closer to you while still giving you space. “Y/N? Sweetheart? I need you to wake up for me. We’re home.”

You hummed, slowly waking up. You blinked the sleep from your eyes and looked over at Tony. “We’re home?”

“Yes, dear. Let’s get you inside. I can take care of the bouquet and you can head to bed.”

You didn’t argue, simply nodding and replying a quiet, “okay.”

~~~

Tony went back to work after taking care of your bouquet, placing it in one of your beautiful vases in the living area. Tony stayed in his office past dinner. When he finally emerged, he found you on the couch in the living area. A book was open in your lap, but you were looking straight ahead, unfocused.

“Y/N? Honey?” He took careful steps around the couch, stopping off to the side.

“Hm?” You hummed, not even glancing his way.

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine.”

Tony’s brows furrowed as he took a step closer. “May I sit by you?”

You nodded. He carefully sat with a cushion between the two of you. “Have you slept?”

“I was asleep until ten minutes ago.”

“Have you eaten?” 

You shook your head. “Not hungry.”

“Y/N, you need—“

“I dreamed of her… of your mother… She was the first person to truly care about me and show me true kindness.”

“She loved you. She would have done anything to be here to help you.”

“I shouldn’t be missing her like this… I should be helping you through your own grief. They were your parents after all.”

“We can grief together… what are you trying to read?”

“Oh.” You looked down and picked up the book. “I thought it would help me if I reread some of my favorite books. But I can’t seem to focus.”

“May I?” Tony reached out, wiggling his fingers. You gave him the book and he immediately flipped through it. “I… I, uh… I could read it to you, if you would like? I haven’t read this book so we would have to start at the beginning.”

“I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“It’s not an inconvenience. In fact, it may help my own mind calm enough to sleep.”

“Only if you’re sure.”

“Get comfy, honey. You’re about to fall asleep to a master storyteller.”

You sunk into the couch and pulled the blanket over. Tony’s voice filtered through the fogginess of your mind as he began reading the book. Your eyes fought to stay open, but eventually they fluttered close. Tony continued reading while Yelena and Steve watched on from the edge of the room.

“He loves her,” Steve whispered. “He just doesn’t know it yet.”

“He’s truly made a change,” Yelena responded. “For her… I just still worry that he’ll hurt her some how.”

“We won’t let that happen. Let’s be real, if they ever divorced, we’d all be on her side.”

When Tony finished the chapter, he looked over at you, sound asleep in the other corner of the couch. He closed the book and set it down on the coffee table before standing up to hover over you. He carefully rearranged the blanket so that you were completely covered and pressed a barely there kiss to your head.

“Sweet dreams, my dear,” he whispered.

~~~

You woke up in the morning, still on the couch. You looked around and found a small paper, folded over, on the coffee table. You reached over to read it.

I didn’t know if you would be comfortable with me carrying you back to the room. Let me know if you want to continue reading tonight. - T (Also, breakfast is on the island. Please eat something.)

Sitting up, you looked over to see a buffet of various breakfast foods on the island. Yelena was sitting at the island, already eating a plate full of food.

“Morning, sleepy head,” she teased.

“Morning,” you mumbled, stretching. 

You slid off the couch and padded into the kitchen. Grabbing a plate you began to dish your own food. The house was peacefully quiet this morning, making you relax. You went to say something to Yelena when suddenly the tv in the living area flickered on and a video began playing. You stopped breathing, the plate slipping out of your hand and shattering on the floor.

“Tony! TONY!” You cried out on the video before Brock broke Maria’s platter over your head. 

Yelena whipped around, eyes widening in horror as the video continued to play your rape. Tony and Steve rushed out, thinking that you were currently shouting his name.

“Y/N! What is it? What’s wrong?” Tony frantically asked, running towards you. 

“Stark,” Steve called, pulling the man’s focus to the screen.

Tony thought he was going to be sick as he watched Brock stuff himself inside of you. “Turn it off! TURN IT OFF NOW!”

You backed up into the cabinets behind you, trembling and crying. Yelena found the remote and was able to get the tv turned off.

“I’m so—sorry— I’m sorry,” you sobbed, barely able to get a full breath in.

“Y/N,” Tony turned to face you.

“I— I—“

Then in a flash, you moved out of the room and over to your side of the house. Tony went after you as you stumbled into your own bedroom, only for your panic to get worse. 

“Y/N, honey,” Tony’s voice remained calm despite the anger growing within.

“I’m sorry— I’m sorry!” You cried. You were frantically looking around for even the slightest sense of peace in this room that Brock had done his fair share of damage to you in. “I can’t— I can’t—“

“Sweetheart, look at me, please,” Tony was begging now. His hands were out like he was trying to approach a wounded animal. Yelena, Natasha, and Peggy were at the door while Tony could hear Steve ordering the others to unplug all the tv’s in the house.

“Y/N, please,” Tony tried again.

“Just— Just kick me out, please!” You weren’t making any sense at this point. The panic had a grip on you so tightly. “Just beat me, do something! I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry!”

“I’m not doing any of that, sweetheart.”

“It’s my fault! It’s my fault!”

“No, it’s not.” Tony had to pause, let the anger simmer a little before he tried again. He wasn’t going to let this slide. “You’re going to pass out, honey. Please just look at me. I’m not mad at you… Never at you.”

“He’s everywhere! He’s ruined everything! He’s ruined me!”

Your arms were wrapped around you, nails digging into your skin. Tony could see blood pricking out. He didn’t want to force anything on you, but he was close to grabbing you. 

“Yelena,” Tony calmly called. “I need you to help. I need her to let go of herself. She’s hurting herself.”

Yelena motioned to Natasha and the two of them carefully moved around Tony, each one taking a side. They gently took your hands and pried them away from your arms. Your knees gave way and Tony couldn’t help himself. He lunged forward and caught you. You pressed yourself into him. The women let go of you, allowing you to cling to Tony. He shushed you as he lifted you up and cradled you close. He carried you out of the room and across the house, to the room you had been staying in.

“I’m sorry,” you cried again.

“Stop that, please,” Tony whispered as he set you down on the bed. He tucked you in and sat beside you. “Nothing is your fault. Do you understand me? I promise that I will find who did that and will make them pay.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t Brock? Are you sure he’s dead?”

“Yes, honey. I oversaw it myself. He will never harm you again.” He sighed. “I’ve got to go take care of this, but the girls will stay here with you, okay?” You barely nodded. “Just call if you need anything and I’ll come running.”

Tony left, leaving the women to attend to you. As soon as the door was shut behind him, his whole demeanor shifted. He marched into the living area, where Bucky, Steve, Rhodey, and Happy had already gathered.

“How the hell did that happen?” Tony’s voice was cold, lanced in pure anger.

“We’re still trying to figure it out,” Rhodey answered. “We need to change our whole IT make up though.”

“I don’t care what you have to do. Fix this so it never happens again. She will never recover from this at this rate.”

“Maybe it’s time we think about a safe house,” Bucky suggested.

“Maybe… I want a list of options on my desk by end of day. With renovation plans for any that need a studio put in. I need that new studio done today and I need my room turned into hers by the end of the day.”

“We’re on it,” Steve responded. “But Tony, are you okay?”

“I’ll be fine. Let’s just get this handled.”

~~~

You remained in your room for the day, not to anyone’s surprise. As soon as Tony checked over your new studio, he was at your door, gently knocking. Yelena answered it.

“Can I come in?” Tony asked.

“Tony?” He heard your fragile voice come from behind Yelena. Yelena stepped aside to reveal you standing to the side of the bed.

“I have something to show you.” 

Tony held his hand out, more as an invitation than anything. But he held in his surprise when you stepped forward and took his hand, lacing your fingers through his. He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before he led you out and over to the next door. He opened it and you couldn’t help but gasp. It was a new studio, designed to look completely different than the one across the house. It was smaller, but still functional.

“I wanted to make sure you still had a space that was yours,” Tony said as you let go of his hand and stepped into the room. “I hope this is alright.”

“You didn’t have to give up more of you space for me,” you said quietly, taking it all in.

“Y/N, honey… I’d give you the whole world if it meant you felt safe again.”

“I… I love it…”

Tony could hear the hesitation in your voice. “I can change whatever you need changed, Y/N. Just say the word.”

“I can’t be in here alone.” Your voice was barely above a whisper. “I can’t have my back turned… I’m scared.”

Tony stepped forward. “Then how about we do something together? Yelena and Natasha have the door, and I’ll remain beside you.”

“I don’t want to be an inconvenience if you’re too busy.”

“I’m never too busy for you, my dear. I’ve missed our classes and watching you work wonders with the clay.”

You looked down at your hands. “I don’t know if I can make anything right now…”

“Then we just play around. We make nothing. Or something. Whatever happens, that’s okay.”

You nodded. “Thank you, Tony.”

He gave you a small smile. “I’ll grab the clay and tools. You take a seat.”

You sat down and watched as Tony gathered more tools and other items than you could possibly need and placed them in front of you. 

“Where to you want me?” Tony wondered.

“Uh… beside me,” you answered timidly.

Tony nodded and moved to sit in the stool beside you. “Here.” He reached over and took a handful of clay, placing it in front of you. “You don’t have to do anything with it, at least just feel it.”

With shaky hands, you touched the clay. You gasped as the familiar coolness of it. You could feel a piece of yourself snap back into place as you began to knead the clay. Tony took another handful of clay for himself and began to work it. He kept you in his sight, watching you practically melt as you continued with the clay. There was a piece of you coming alive again and it warmed Tony to see it in real time. 

You lost track of time as you worked with the clay. You didn’t make anything specific, but just played around with it. When you were done, Tony helped clean up and walked you to his bedroom door.

“This is your new room,” he stated, opening it for you. You looked in to see that it was decorated with all your belongings but wasn’t an exact replica of the one across the house.

“But, Tony… where will you sleep?” You questioned, hating to put him out like this.

“In your old room.”

“But I… I can’t let you do that.”

“I just want you comfortable, Y/N.”

“But I don’t want to push you out of your space… Please don’t move across the house. We… We can share this side, right?”

“I don’t want to overwhelm you.”

“Please, Tony, don’t move because of me. Stay on this side.”

Who was he to disregard your request when you looked at him like that?

“Only if you’re sure,” Tony said. “I can take the guest room across the hall, so I’m not far away. Okay?”

You nodded. You bit your lip nervously before you suddenly hugged him. Tony was taken by surprise for a moment before slowly hugging you back.

“Thank you, Tones,” the nickname slipped from your lips. “Thank you for everything.”

You broke the hug quickly and slipped into your new room, leaving Tony grinning outside. He sighed before he shook himself out of it. You still had a long way to go, and so did he. But he had never felt more himself than around you. You were different than Pepper— by a lot— and Tony was more than okay with that. He turned to see Steve and Bucky smirking at him.

“You’re so whipped, Stark,” teased Bucky.

“As if you aren’t whipped for Romanoff, Barnes,” Tony retorted, heading towards them. “Now, enough of this, we have to figure out who is continually trying to traumatize my girl.”

next chapter >

[very-merry-birthday]

Sweet or Heat

Summary: When you're stuck in a motel room, trying to pass the time, one thing becomes clear. Sam prefers sweet sex, while Dean prefers it heated. It's up to them to convince you which is better.

Warnings: Smut, Some degrading language

~~~

You stepped out of the bathroom, still drying your hair from the shower. The two men paused their conversation, turning to look at you instead. Sam let his eyes glance down to your tight shirt, his cheeks going red as he took you in, before turning away, bashful. Dean made no secret of his own gaze, looking over your body slowly before eventually landing on your ass, covered in a small pair of PJ shorts, a small smile forming at the corner of his mouth.

You'd been stuck in the motel room for too long now, the brothers' small glances becoming more and more noticeable. Your own looks probably were as well, the small peaks as they changed, the V lines at Sam's waist, the back of Dean's shoulders. The tension hung in the air, thicker and thicker as you tried to pass the time.

Tonight the method of choice was alcohol, enough of it that you'd all hopefully pass out without having to acknowledge any of the tightness in the room. Dean passed you the half drunk bottle of whiskey as he finally dragged his eyes away from your body, looking up at you with a lopsided smile. You took it, sitting down on the bed beside him.

"You started drinking without me?" You smiled and swigged down a couple of gulps, letting the fiery liquid warm you from the inside, and passing it over to Sam.

Dean shrugged, turning back to Sam to continue the conversation you'd been missing, "I'm telling you, there's nothing hotter than when you're plowing a girl from behind, pulling on her hair-"

Sam coughed on the whiskey, shooting his brother daggers with his eyes, "Dude come on, let's not do this now?" He gestured back to you.

You looked between the two of them, waiting for them to explain as they seemed to have a silent conversation with their eyes. You continued to pass the bottle between you all as you spoke.

"Well Sammy here likes to have sappy sex-"

"Hey I never said that," Sam cut him off, his face going red "I just- fine- I think it's better when sex is intimate, you know? When you've been dating a girl for a while and you can just have slow, soft sex, when you just know her well enough that every touch is deliberate. Sometimes I just prefer it when it's sweet!"

Dean shook his head, "And I told him he's wrong- sex is always better when it's rough and sweaty and leaves bruises. No girl actually wants it slow, not all the time! They want to be fucked properly. Sex is just better when it's hot and heated! Right?"

They both looked at you expectantly, waiting for an answer.

You thought carefully about their words, images filling your mind. You imagined Sam, his strong arms wrapped around you as he pushed into you, his lips pressed softly against your skin. Then you imagined Dean, his hand around your throat as he roughly thrust against you.

"Both- both are pretty good." You looked back at the two men.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, "Don't be embarrassed just because you want to say you like it rough, you know I'm right."

"Shut up Dean, she doesn't have to tell us anything she doesn't want to."

"I'm not embarrassed- I'm being honest. Sometimes I prefer it when it's sweet and sometimes I prefer it heated, it just depends on the time, and the person." Your eyes darted between them.

Dean's eyes dropped to your lips and then back up to you, keeping himself composed, "That's not a real answer, you have to choose."

"Well argue your case then, let's hear more." You knew this was only an excuse for them to talk about sex, and they knew it too.

"I like to feel a woman," Sam began to speak, surprising you both, "like- really feel her. You've got to take your time to do that. I just let my fingers flow over her skin, touching every inch of her body. Dean you're only arguing because you don't know what it feels like to slowly inch your cock into a woman, let her feel you fill her up more and more, until you're completely inside her and she's practically begging for you."

You could feel a wetness growing between your legs as you listened to his words, your own face going flush as you pictured it. You watched him swallow hard before leaning back and shrugging, acting like he didn't know what he was doing to you. Dean gave it a second, watching for your reaction, a small pit of jealousy growing in his stomach as he saw your eyes wash over Sam's body.

"That's what doing it rough is all about though," Dean made sure your eyes were back on him before he continued, "there's no practically about it. I like making sure she's begging for me. When you have a girl on her knees in front of you, and she's fucking worshipping your cock, desperate to have it inside her? Damn there's no better feeling." He was talking to Sam but his eyes were firmly on you. "When she's able to loose all control, and just lets you take over, telling her exactly what to do, where to go, when to cum? Yeah I'd say that's the best kind of sex."

He refused to let the eye contact break, keeping you looking at him, the air growing thicker and thicker between the two of you. Then he let his eyes dip, only slightly, to your lips. You wet them instinctively and he broke a small smile, looking back to Sam and allowing himself to grin completely. "I think she agrees with me."

Sam rolled his eyes, "No way, tell him Y/N, you liked what I was saying."

You let the whiskey get the better of you, "I liked what you were both saying. A lot."

"But which is better?" Sam reached out to you, letting his finger lightly trace a small circle on your bare leg. It was the sort of touch that in any other situation you'd take as friendly, but right now you couldn't take any other way except lustful. He kept his eyes away, feigning innocence.

Dean watched his movements carefully, holding his breath tight in his chest. His eyes flicked between your eyes, Sam's, his hand, and back to Sam's again, none of you able to say what was clearly happening.

"I don't know Sam, I like them both. I still don't think either of you have fully convinced me."

"Well what would it take to convince you?" His hand got higher, his fingers drawing patterns across the top of your thigh, inches away from your PJ shorts, and the growing arousal between your legs.

Time felt as though it slowed, Sam looking at Dean, Dean looking at you, you looking between them both. His fingers were barely moving, but they sent fireworks flowing through you. None of you wanted to be the first to break, all of you holding onto the moment in the room.

He slowly inched his hand towards your inner thigh, tiny movements that left your breath hitched in your throat. You looked at Dean, who seemed to be watching you carefully, looking for the expression on your face, gauging his next move carefully. He cocked his eyebrow, only slightly, enough that you could barely see it. A question hung in the air between the two of you, imperceptible to anyone else. You dipped your head in a small nod.

In a single moment his hand came up to your cheek as he crashed his lips into yours, pulling your body away from Sam. You felt his lips, hot and heavy, his hand gripping at your jaw, a low hum emanating between you both. He tasted like whiskey as he easily pushed his tongue into your mouth, both your bodies entwining together, his other hand finding your waist and dragging you closer to him, wanting you to himself.

Sam moved his hand away and you let out a small whine, wanting him closer to you. You pulled your hand behind your back as you continued to kiss Dean, grabbing him by the collar and pulling him into the mix. You smiled as his hand found your thigh again, followed by the feeling of light kisses against your skin.

Dean pulled back to look at the scene, you bit your lip as Sam's lips pressed lightly against your inner thigh. He shook his head, "Hey dude, it was my turn to convince her."

Sam just rolled his eyes and looked back at your legs, small deep kisses peppered against your skin.

Dean looked back at you, holding your jaw to look at him as he spoke quietly for a moment, "This okay? How far do you want this to go?"

You smiled and kissed him lightly, "I want you to convince me, Winchester, both of you. That means you have complete control."

His expression turned dark once again and his hand found your neck, lightly wrapping around it as he dipped in to kiss you again, fierce and full of desire. Your own hand reached up to his shoulders, letting yourself feel his strong muscles as you bit back another whine. He pulled back, looking at you intensely, "On your knees."

You began to move, wanting to do as he said, but Sam grabbed your leg and looked back up at the older man, "No way you're taking her away right when it's about to get good." He lightly let his thumb rub over the crotch of your shorts and you let out a quiet gasp.

Dean watched you carefully, "You like it when both of us touch you, one not enough?"

You nodded your head.

"God you're fucking needy," he grabbed your jaw in his hands, "I should have known you were a slut."

You let out another moan as you bit your lip, looking up at him. Sam pressed his mouth down to your shorts, kissing you through the fabric, as Dean made sure you kept your gaze firmly on him. "Fine, Sam, have it your way, only because I know her mouth will feel better if you keep her moaning." He let go of you and began to stand, your attention turning back to Sam.

"Lay down, baby." He kissed your hip gently, looking up at you, and to Dean behind you, hiding the small smile that was forming at the corner of his mouth. You did as he said, pulling off your shirt at the same time. You felt both men's eyes on you for a moment as you got yourself into position, your bare breasts exposed, both of them unable to look anywhere else. You heard Dean behind you unbuckling his pants, Sam looking up at him and then back to you, "He wants your head off the back of the bed, baby, can you do that for us?" He kissed your hip again, "I promise I'll make it worth it."

You shuffled backwards slightly, letting the rest of your body sink into the sheets, your head off of the mattress, still looking down at Sam. He hooked his fingers around your shorts, slowly pulling them down your legs and throwing them to one side. He found his own position, laying between your legs, his mouth forming a small trail from your knee up to your pussy. You wanted him to touch you, but he was taking his time, savouring every moment. Then his tongue was on you, softly stroking through your soaked folds. You let out a loud moan, your head rolling back, gripping the sheets.

Dean stood behind you, his cock in his hand, stroking himself to the sight. Just seeing him, your head hung off the back of the bed, caused your chest to tighten, desperate to reach out to him. He saw your eyes on him and stepped forward, pressing his tip against your lips. He slowly pushed into your mouth, as Sam pushed two fingers into your pussy, filling you up from both ends. You moaned against Dean's length, sending vibrations through him.

He began to thrust his hips into you, his large cock filling your mouth, swallowing down his salty taste. Sam's tongue found your clit, lightly darting over it, and you lifted your hips up to him, desperate for more. Dean's thrusting got faster, the sight of you unravelling below him sending him into a desperate frenzy, pushing his cock further and further on each thrust until you felt like it was fully down your throat, choking you from the angle. His movements didn't slow as you tried to take him completely, the oxygen in your lungs starting to go, eyes going wide as you desperately tried to please him.

Sam almost spoke up, wanting to make sure you were okay, but he could tell by the wetness between your legs and the clenching of your pussy around his fingers how much you were enjoying it. He shot Dean a small wink and lowered his mouth back down, his tongue flowing through your folds, small, deliberate movements sending you to the edge.

You took in a large gasp of air as Dean pulled out for a moment to let you enjoy the feeling, your thighs wrapping around the younger man's head, legs over his shoulders. One of Sam's large hands came up to your bare breast, firmly palming it as his tongue continued to move through your wetness. He lightly pinched your nipple, causing you to let out another moan.

Dean pushed himself back into your mouth, your own tongue playing with his tip for a moment before he thrust in deeper, wanting to fill you once again. "Fuck your throat feels good- you like both of us inside you?"

You tried to nod as he began to roughly fuck your mouth. The feeling of Sam sucking lightly on your clit sent your body twitching beneath the two of them, the coil tightening in your stomach. You let out another moan against Dean's cock, and he sucked in a desperate breath, "Don't let her cum- not yet-"

Sam chuckled, sending vibrations through you as he licked along your folds, before looking up, slowly pushing another finger into you, "I wasn't planning on it, do you see how good she looks like this?"

"You should feel her mouth- god she knows what she's doing- and she fucking likes it too-"

"I can tell, you've got her so wet, she tastes incredible."

"Fuck look at her-" he pushed his cock in further, filling your throat, "-I don't think I can last much longer if she's gonna keep taking it so well."

Sam leant back down, licking through your folds, gaining speed as he moved past your clit, "You want to cum baby?"

You nodded, moaning against Dean's cock, loud enough they could both hear.

"Want to cum with a cock inside you?" Dean stepped back, giving you a chance to suck in a deep breath before nodding again, unable to form any words.

"Who do you want baby?" Sam pulled his head back, his fingers still slowly pushing into you, "Who convinced you?"

You took a moment, looking between the two men, desperate for both of them to keep touching you, wanting them both inside you.

"Sam." "Dean."

[click the name for a personalized ending]

[fluffyenergee]

"I thought you said you weren't ticklish" with ler!demo and lee!solly :3

"KKKHAHAHAHA!"

A mix of laughter and a scream could be heard coming from the common room. In fact, it was loud enough to reach Soldier's ears and sent him rushing to the source.

"Enemy alert, enemy alert, everyone, regroup-!"

He stopped instantly once he arrived in the doorway.

It was not a sneaky enemy attack, it wasn't even anyone accidentally burning the kitchen. Or in case of some of them not accidentally at all. The point was what met Soldier's eyes was Sniper sitting in Heavy's lap. Still screaming.

"Maggot, what is going on!? What is this Commie-?"

"KKKHAHAHA! AHAHHA!" Sniper wailed again. "S-STOHOHOHAP HIHIHIM!"

Sniper's arms flailed wildly and that's when Soldier saw it. One of Heavy's arms was keeping Sniper pinned to his chest, while the other one was wiggling against the marksman's ribs. Oh.

"Sniper was being rude," Heavy simply claimed, like that was enough of an excuse. Maybe it was.

"Bah! That is no serious emergency." Soldier thumped his leg and just when he was about to turn around and find something better to take care of-

"Naw, c'mon, laddie, not good enough of a show fer ye?" Demoman revealed his presence and spoke from the couch trying his best to be louder than Sniper, his eyes moving from the tickle pair to Soldier. "It's good fer me." He took a sip of his scrumpy.

"Show?!" Soldier raised an eyebrow under his helmet. "Being ticklish does not count as entertainment, this is an unforgivable weakness!" With that he took off, ignoring Sniper's curses.

However, he didn't get to go far before, aside from Sniper's laughter, he could hear thumps of steps behind him. Instincts kicked again and he was face to face with the intruder.

"Spy!"

"Eh, naw, lad, still me." Demo blinked at the other.

"Good job, then!" Soldier patted him on the shoulder. "Keep it up."

"Aye." Demo grinned. "But actually, I wanted to ask ye a question."

"What is it, Demoman?"

"Ye said that ticklin' is a weakness."

"That is not a question, but yes!" Soldier straightened his posture. "It is. Just like pain."

"Riiiiight." Demo rolled his eyes half-heartedly. "Guess it's bad then that every mate in this team is ticklish."

"WHAT!?" Soldier's helmet almost flew off his head. "Everyone?"

"Yep. Checked it meself." Demo grinned to himself. "'S not that weird, actually, doc once said that someone not bein' ticklish would be more of an er, "atypical nervous reaction"."

"Hmp, so everyone here is a weakling," Soldier scoffed and crossed his arms. "Aside from me. I knew it all along. Soldier prevails, maggots!"

"Soooo, you're saying ye're not ticklish?"

"Correct!" Soldier saluted.

"Riiiight." Demo narrowed his eyes. "Mind if I check then?"

"Weakness inspection, I approve!" Soldier agreed enthusiastically but then added quickly, "Even if I know there are no weaknesses on this body." He patted his chest. "You still have-." He choked on his words when Demo started pulling him with him, away from the common room.

Even though Sniper's laughter has died a while ago, Demo figured they could use a different area for that "test". And what a better place than his own room where he could be like, 50% sure no one would come uninvited.

So, they entered the area, and he lightly pushed Soldier towards his messy couch where the other sat down, still as straight as a guitar string but definitely not tense. And Demo thought that could only mean one thing,

"He genuinely thinks he's not ticklish."

Fine then, either he would make an absolute fool out of himself orrrr prove to a very unwilling mercenary that he is ticklish as well. He weighed the pros and cons, and his mind was made up.

"Alright, lad, remember, no laughing."

He sat down next to Soldier and shifted into a more comfortable position. His hands hovered above the other's body for a moment or two and then-.

"Agh!"

Squeezed both of Soldier's knees.

"Aha, what was that?" He smirked, not only because Soldier actually made a sound, but also because from his bent position he could see his eyes, and they were widened.

"Nothing!" Soldier, of course, denied everything.

"Mmmm, sure. Be it yer way."

Demo didn't stop, his hands still sitting on the trusted source that were Soldier's knees and kept squeezing. He hummed when they started twitching and the corners of Soldier's lips started moving up.

"I dunno, ye seem to be reactin', alright."

"This is... ngh, nothing," Soldier hissed through gritted teeth. "I-It's magic, you're using magic!"

"I wish."

The reaction on knees sure was promising but became even better once Demo's hands moved up to the sides of Soldier's thighs and scratched.

"Mmmph!" Soldier's hands moved, just a bit, to grab Demo's, but he managed to stop them just in time.

"Naaw," Demo tickled at the area just between thighs and hips, just where he could feel the bone. "I thought ye said ye weren't ticklish," He purred, half in satisfaction, half playfully, and pinched the skin.

Soldier jumped.

And snickered.

"I-I'm n-not."

To Demo's delight, Soldier's voice as well as body were now shaking. There were definitely no other excuses available now.

"Hah! Ye are ticklish!"

In his enthusiasm Demo put his hands under Soldier's arms and picked him up. It didn't last long, however.

"HAAAAAH!" Soldier wheezed, his hands instantly plastered to his sides.

"Ohoho-hoh. What have we here?" Demo's all-teeth grin was positively evil.

"N-Nothing." The panic in Soldier's voice was absolutely delightful. His arms were making absolutely sure Demo couldn't free his hands from under them even if he tried. "Demoman, I order you t-to stop this r-right nggh, right now!" He sputtered.

"Hmmmm, no." Demo pretended to ponder. "Not only are ye ticklish, ye're really ticklish. Admit it."

"No!" Soldier shook his head so strongly his helmet was now askew. "This is all propaganda. N-Not true at all! Maggot, let me go, or I swear-!" Demo scratched just once in the hollows. "AH!"

Once Soldier threw his head back there was no saving his face getting fully uncovered but at least he managed to catch the helmet. However, instead of putting it back in its place Soldier was now holding it against his face. All in all, if covering his face was the goal Demo had to admit this move was definitely doing its job better than before.

A shame really because he was starting to notice blush on Soldier's face. The good thing, however? Soldier uncovered his armpits completely and Demo was not planning to miss his chance.

His fingers renewed their eager exploration of Soldier's armpits to which their owner in turn returned to laughing, though now it wasn't just a single burst but a continuous stream.

"AHAHAHAHAHA! G-GGHAHAHA!"

No amount of helmet covering could muffle his laughter enough.1

"Guess that means yer just like the rest o' us." Demo shook his head, mock-disapprovingly. "Full of weaknesses. Yer armpits seem to be the worst weakness-central yet."

"NOHOHOHOH, I-I REHEHEHEFUSE!"

"Aye, refuse all ye want, Private Haircut." Demo vibrated his finger which resulted in an actual squeal from Soldier. "Even with one eye I can see it all just fine. Tickle tickle tickle! If that helps, ye can see it as a punishment for lyin' about not bein' ticklish."

"IT WAHAHAHASN'T A-!" The rest of the sentence dissolved in the absolutely wild wheeze escaping Soldier. He tried to come back to it a few more times but each time more laughter or wheezing proved to be superior. "GAHAHAHAHAHA! D-DEHEHEHEHEMO- GAHAHA!"

"Idea!" Demo beamed while drilling his thumbs into the center of Soldier's armpits, causing him to spasm. "I stop when ye admit yer ticklish."

"NEHEHEHEHEVER!"

"Whatever ye say, lad." Demo shrugged. "I have a whole day."

-----------

Help, this is the longest one yet, that ain't a drabble :'). Anyway, I'm glad I got to try writing those two's speech because before I had found it quite intimidating, especially Demo's but I think I did ok :}. Didn't help however that at first both sites with Soldier and Demo's lines didn't freaking work.

[infiniteeight8]

Oh, look at me popping into your prompts. Completely unexpected, I'm sure.

Some more enemies-to-lovers? I'm just vibrating in my chair in anticipation for how this is going to develop.

Such a surprise to see this one get prompted. 😂 All kidding aside, I am glad for it, because I’m rather pleased with my plan for it! There are at least three more ficlets to go after this one. Maybe four? It depends a little bit. (I know I said at least four in part 4, and this is part 6, but I also said then that maybe 5 or 6 would be better… We can all see where I landed on that now. LOL.)

Behind the cut because this is a long one.

-

Tony peers over the shoulders of the two apprentices Stephen gave him to work on the digitization project. One of them, Sarah, is carefully scanning the yellowed pages of a book while the other, Kenzo, works on cleaning up and validating pages from a previous scan. “How’s it going?”

Sarah looks up at him and smiles. “Good! This is my third book today.”

“And no stubborn ones so far,” Kenzo adds.

Magic books, it turns out, can resist being digitized. Tony and Sangita are trying to figure out why, but it’s not a high priority since there are thousands of books in the library and they’ve scanned less than a hundred and completed the files for only a fraction of them. Besides, convincing Stephen that an air-gapped computer was just as safe as a locked and warded library—safer, with Tony’s protections added—had been hard enough without adding in what the books thought about it.

“Excellent,” Tony says aloud. “When you—”

Between one word and the next, Tony is translocated out of the lab. “—finish— What the hell?” He swallows whatever words might have come next when he registers Stephen sitting on a bed in front of him, shirtless and swathed in bandages. They’re spotted with blood and Stephen looks pale and exhausted. There are two Masters standing over him, casting some sort of spell. “Are you okay? What happened?” Tony asks, stepping forward and reaching out to touch before dropping his hand.

“Tony?” Stephen blinks and looks at the Masters. “Did you call him?”

They don’t answer, intent on their tasks, but Tony suspects he has the answer. “I think the Sanctum brought me here on its own. Stephen. What happened?” It occurs to him, once the words are out, that he might not want the answer. What if it was the Avengers? Tony hasn’t been following the news. Not lately.

Stephen sighs. “Mordo. He was leading an attack in Hong Kong. We’ve turned him back, but it was a… difficult battle.”

Tony’s stomach feels tight, his nerves jangling. “Casualties?” he asks.

“Four cases of magical exhaustion,” Stephen says. “Two minor injuries.” When he stops, Tony raises an eyebrow and Stephen rolls his eyes. “And me, obviously. Mordo got me with a slashing spell; I’ll be fine, I’ve been seen by doctors and healers.”

Tony pulls up a stool and sits, then has to take a minute when he realizes that shaky feeling is relief. “Why are you two so at each other’s throats, anyway? If you worked together, you’d have a much better chance with the Avengers.”

“Believe it or not, the Order has more in common with the Avengers than with Mordo,” Stephen says dryly. Above his head, the Masters exchange a glance, but they don’t object when Stephen goes on. Tony finds he isn’t surprised; Stephen’s people trust his judgment. “Mordo believes that mundanes—non-magical people—are incapable of governing themselves properly. He aims to create a kind of ruling class composed entirely of sorcerers and to bring the rest of the world into their control. It would be a pseudo-Feudal arrangement, as far as I’ve gathered.”

“And the Order believes in people’s right to self-determination?” Tony asks skeptically. 

Stephen snorts. “People are idiots,” he says. “They absolutely need guidance. But there are areas in which they can be permitted to make mistakes and areas in which they can’t. The Order uses a behind the scenes approach that permits maximum freedom and minimum casualties.”

Tony stirs uneasily. “But you’re still running things.” 

“When necessary.” Stephen must see how much that bothers him, because his expression softens. “Tony. If a demon from another dimension came to Earth and said, ‘Join up with me and you can have eternal life. Refuse and be consumed.’, would trust humanity to put it to a vote, or would you just do what was necessary to banish the demon?”

“That not—” Tony stopped, taking in the absolute evenness of Stpehen’s expression, “—a random example, is it? That actually happened.” 

“Yes.” The two Masters finish what they’re doing and Stephen nods briefly at them before they depart, leaving Stephen and Tony alone. “The Order protects humanity just as much as the Avengers do,” Stephen says. “Sometimes, that means protecting them from themselves.”

“And sometimes that means interfering in non-magical events,” Tony says, because the Avengers have tangled with the Order over a lot more than magical artifacts and dimensional visitors.

“Yes.”

Stephen is so confident. There’s no uncertainty in him at all as he meets Tony’s gaze. Tony fights down an absolutely inappropriate rush of heat at the sight of him half-dressed, wounded, and still full of strength. “So why does the Order get to be the ones to choose how to manage things?” Tony asks.

“We’ve been doing it for ten thousand years and humanity is still here,” Stephen says simply. Then he grimaces. “Granted, the advance of technology has made our job much more difficult over the last few decades. It’s so much easier for people to do so much more damage now.” He sighs.

Tony can’t help an immediate surge of sympathy. Mentally, he shoves it aside to deal with later. Maybe after he resolves the disturbing contrast between the Order’s ten thousand years of successful management and the utter shit show that has been disaster response and clean up since enhanced people arrived on the scene. And that’s just one example.

“Come on,” Tony says, helping Stephen up. “We should get you to your bed.”

“My guest room,” Stephen corrects. Tony shoots him a confused look, and then coughs and ducks his head when he remembers: he’s been sleeping in Stephen’s bed. Stephen smiles. “I’m quite satisfied with the current occupancy of my bed.”

“Oh, really? You’re giving it up that easily?” Tony says, heart racing.

Stephen smirks. “I did say current. Not future.”

“You might have a fight on your hands.”

“I’m sure a compromise can be reached.”

Tony’s mind supplies him with a vivid image of what compromise might look like.

He’s still thinking about it after he’s settled Stephen into his guest room.

[lightweaver-chosen-if]

I'll be honest, at first I was a little sad at not being able to play as a nonbinary MC, still kinda am and a little part of me hopes it'd be possible in some sort of way (idk, maybe finally being able to experiment with our gender, tho i know that might be hard to write, and also no pressure to do any of that), but with the way the dorms seem to be organized by girls and boys, and what you've said in a previous ask about the the MC's and the ROs' gender mattering, it makes sense

On another point, I didn't think I'd like J this much, I love them, the "has begrudging respect for you after that little speed walk marathon" you get on the impressions if you chose to run made me smile when I saw it, I had to replay through each choice we get with them on the little training scene just so I could see all the different reactions, I love how, at least with the MC I'm going with now, they and J seemed to match eachother's energy, I'm not even going to start of "you remind me of a lost kitten" (I imagine it'd say puppy if we went with finding a dog instead?) And how much it, on my opinion, feels more natural if MC really reacts a little more positively to someone being more straight forward with them rather than the made of glass sort of kindness

Back in the demo's super early stages, I thought a lot about this a lot.

It was originally possible to have a nonbinary MC, but it always felt off when NPCs just magically knew what to call them without any context. I didn’t want it to be just a variable swap. I wanted it to mean something. So I took a step back to re-evaluate how to naturally incorporate it into the story. I know I won’t be able to get it perfect for everyone, but I want to do it right.

In any case, the answer is yes! MC will eventually have the chance to reflect on and express their gender in a way that fits them best, whether that's something they’ve always known or something they're coming to understand now that they finally have the space to explore it.

I'm planning to shift some of the gender selection moments to before the game starts, to better establish how NPCs perceive MC later on.

PS: To the first ask, the dorms are actually co-ed, in case you missed it ;d As for the J interaction. You're right! I might actually just make it another flavor text depending on MC's spiraling state...

Thank you for the ask!

[mornyavie]

As I sit here yet again watching the slow-motion train crash of someone bad at organizing organize something, I will offer my unsolicited advice to tumbler instead:

You know that joke about how no one can get together ever? Your TTRPG group lasts a month, your friends' next meetup is in a year and a half, your book club took a week off and immediately fell apart?

Two points that help immensely:

1.

No open-ended questions. Don't walk up to someone or pull up the group chat and ask "when can we meet?"

No one knows how to answer that!

Instead make your own decision, ask, and refine. Ask "can we get together Tuesday evening" or "hey are people free this Friday or Saturday?" or "what about Sunday at 11am?" Then they have a clear yes/no question to respond to, and if the answers are all "no" you can choose a different day/date and try again.

Brought to you by someone asking 9 people "when can we meet this month?" Are you expecting a detailed month-long calendar from nine people to be sent to the group chat? You get crickets and "well I can do wednesdays I guess" because that's far too large a time frame for anyone to provide a decision.

2.

Some people can't come. That's ok. If there's four of you, three can meet up sometimes. It's fine. Try to keep track of whether you're always excluding the same person (even if they're the really busy one), but perfect is the enemy of good, and seeing groups of your friends is better than endlessly waiting until you can meet all of them.

The aforementioned nine people are almost never going to be in the same spot at once, and if you hold out for that magic day it'll never happen. You aren't being mean to someone by choosing a time they can't come; just make sure that they know you miss them, and that they get to come next time.

[dykedvonte]

If Ulysses has a million haters, then I'm one of them. If Ulysses has one hater, then I'm THAT ONE. If Ulysses has no haters, that means I'm dead. If the world is with Ulysses than I’m against the world.

[quietwingsinthesky]

sometimes interpreting media through a shipping lens enhances it, on occasion even beyond the author’s original intent, but sometimes, you do have to accept that your ship was not in the heads of anyone making the source material and trying to force it to fit into evidence of your ship will severely hinder your ability to discuss the actual text.