#I just want to work my shift and help patients and not live on the streets

[cloverapple]

do you have anymore advice? your post helped me so much pls I need more

The Restaurant Analogy For Reality Shifting

Aghhh I told myself I wasn’t going to post anything else, yet here I am XD. Hopefully this is helpful.

You already know how to shift. “Oh, but I—” nope. Nope. You already know how to shift. How do I know that? Because shifting is simply the act of becoming aware of your desired reality. And how do you become aware? By focusing, by choosing what you want to become aware of. When your focus and intention are aligned with your DR, you’re already shifting.

“But the symptoms—“

Oh to grab and politely shake you until you realize that “becoming aware of XYZ” is merely focusing on that thing, becoming aware of it. Are you laying there focusing on your DR? Congratulations, you’ve become aware of your DR.

(There’s a very popular post on here (that I can’t find rn bc I’m rushing as I type this) that states your awareness shifts first and then your senses follow. I cannot stress enough how true that is.)

When you lay down to shift, you don’t need to overcomplicate it. Just focus on your DR and allow it to come to you. Let yourself shift. Sure, allowing it might involve slipping into an altered state of consciousness, using methods, counting or affirming—if that feels natural to you in the moment. But ultimately, it comes down to self-trust. Your mind already knows how to shift. Maybe your issue is that you just need to step out of your own way and let it happen. Which in that case:

Deciding to shift is like deciding to go to a restaurant and sitting down.

Choosing your DR is like selecting a meal from the menu.

Letting your subconscious do the work is like trusting the chef in the kitchen to cook your meal.

What happens next? Inevitably, the chef brings out your meal—you become aware of your DR.

Now, what NOT to do:

You don’t march into the kitchen and grab the ingredients from the chef. You don’t argue with them about how they’re making your meal. Your chef, your mind, knows how to cook. You don’t pace back and forth from the kitchen to your table, spiraling in doubt, wallowing in self-pity, or crying to everyone in the restaurant about how you’ll never get your food and how you’re doomed to starve. You don’t leave the restaurant altogether. You sit down, relax, and trust the process.

“But what if my meal takes a year, or two, or even more?”

Well, think about it—what have you been doing during that time? Have you been running into the kitchen? Losing faith in the chef? Accusing him of not knowing how to cook? Your beliefs shape your reality. What you believe—what you truly believe—is what manifests.

This even applies to the “restaurant.” If you believe your meal will take forever, it will. If you believe the chef isn’t cooking, they won’t be. If you believe you’ll never get your meal, then you probably won’t.

But that’s the beauty of going to the restaurant. No matter how much you doubt, the meal comes eventually. Why else would you have sat down at the restaurant?

And there’s another thing: some meals may take longer, and that’s completely fine. Even if you’ve been patiently sitting here waiting for it and it’s been taking forever in your mind, that’s completely fine. Let go of this atattchment you have to time.

So what if the meal took a year to reach your table? 2 years? 3 years? 4 years? 5 years? Has all that time passed since you’re reading this? Awesome! So why are you still focused on it?

All the time you’ve spent shifting, you will get back and more once you start shifting. 2 years? You gain it back. 3 years? Back into your hand it goes. 4 years? There it is again. 5 years? You got it back.

Focus on the now; sit at the restaurant, enjoy the live music, talk to other patrons, flip through the menu and browse because maybe you want to change your meal or try an appetiser.

“Changing the meal (my DR) means it’s going to take even longer!”

Who told you that? I don’t know what kind of cooking you guys are doing IRL, but afaik, if the stove is already on and the pan is warm, searing that stake is going to be just as quick.

“Clover, but you just implied that arguing with the chef messes with your meal!”

Arguing with the chef (your subconscious) is very different from politely poking your head through the kitchen doors and informing him that you want a different meal.

“But how do I focus on my DR?”

I love this question! When you’re sitting at the table, expecting your meal, what are you doing? You’re probably thinking about your food—imagining the flavors, the texture, the sensations of eating it, the satisfaction of finally having it. That’s how you focus on your DR.

When you’re laying there doing your shifting process, think about what it feels like to be in your DR. Use your senses. Imagine the smells, the sounds, the things you’d touch, the things you’d hear. Visualize, ground yourself, and do what feels natural for you. There’s no right or wrong way to focus—just let yourself become immersed in the idea of your DR and trust it’s coming to you.

What you need to do is simple: select your meal, sit down, and know that it’s coming. I’m not even telling you to wait for it—just know that it’s already on its way. The moment you ordered, it became yours. That’s all there is to it.

[eveningspirit]

We got skills, baby!

I think this was my favorite episode to date. Almost all characters had nice moments and writing feels solid across the board. Save for Santos, that is.

I can't decide if she's just that kind of "person", or if writing for her is weak, but she feels so one-dimensional. I thought I would like her, because characters who seem unlikeable tug at my heartstrings. They must have some redeeming qualities, though, meanwhile she's... just mean. And self-important. Idek. Judgment is still out, but if they don't make some sort of plot twist with her very soon, I'm gonna go with "bad writing".

Mel was awesome helping Whitaker with his blister guy. Self assured and upbeat. She knew what she was doing, kept her cool, stayed on top of things and did it all with such an air of someone who's right where they belong. Loved it! And I love her.

With the old lady, and especially her caregiver daughter, she came off too stiff, though, and technical. But I guess, when it comes to emotional connection with patients, she's not going to excell.

The way, say, McKay does. The way she approached her patient, sharing just enough of her own life story to get that woman to open up -- that was amazing. McKay is growing on me with each episode. Indeed, like Langdon said "Cassie, she's great". Even her putting Victoria in her place felt right. A bit raw and pain-filled, but she course corrected, because, well, Victoria is still learning. And she has a lot to learn -- mostly things she won't find in books.

Speaking of doctors connecting with patients, Dr. Mohan was her usual caring self and it's so heartwarming. Btw, the wives were wonderful too. It's rare to see someone suffering the way Joyce is with sickle cell, and at the same time having a good life, being loved, having everything to live and fight for. No, her illness doesn't define her. She's a "mom" to a "bougie bitch", she loves Ondine. Their story is one I'm most interested in among the patients, and I hope we see her improving by the end of the shift.

The interaction between Dr. Collins and Dr. Mohan was pretty great too. And here's where I can confidently say that writing for this show is very good (and that's why I'm still rooting for character development of Dr. Santos). The way Collins apologized, and told Mohan to "never change" and "you do you, Dr. Mohan" -- that was true character growth. And we've known those characters for six hours! We never witnessed their animosities, or Collins giving Mohan that nickname "Slow-Mo". Nevertheless, that scene had impact.

Finally, I would be remiss if I didn't mention Langdon. Each scene where he and YoYo (Dr. Garcia) argue and bicker brightens my day. As did the one in this episode, when he finally didn't let her "crice" and instead McGyvered intubation with Dr. Robby's help. I'm a sucker for his entusiasm and joy he gets from his work.

I loved his scenes with Robby's son Jake, too. They had such a big brother / little brother vibe. Or two twelve-year-olds fooling around, lol. That warm welcome and their whole interaction made me wonder how long had Langdon known Robby. Because it certainly doesn't feel like four years of residency. There's more history there (no, not that kind, eeeeww)

Yeah, I think that's all I wanted to say about this episode. Looking forward to the next one. :)

[ramshacklerumble]

.

[thefemigirl]

★ The Secret to Everyday Luck

Luck isn’t just about random chance or coincidence. It’s about alignment, effort, and faith. Being “lucky” is the reward for consistent actions, intention, and an openness to opportunities. True luck is a result of hard work, spiritual connection (for my spiritual/religious girls), and an awareness of the blessings that unfold along the way.

Here are actionable steps you can take to cultivate luck in your life:

⋆ Show Up Consistently Take small, consistent steps toward your goals every day. It can be learning a skill, completing a task, or building habits, consistency creates momentum and invites opportunities.

⋆ Set Daily Intentions Begin each day with a clear focus. Write down or mentally affirm what you want to achieve, what kind of person you want to be, or what goals you’re striving toward. Intention creates alignment.

⋆ Pray About Your Goals: As a Christian girl myself, I believe that connecting spiritually with your goals by praying daily is important. Share your desires with God, seek guidance, and express gratitude. This creates clarity and helps you trust in the divine plan for your life.

This can be applied to any religion/spirituality.

⋆ Be Open to Opportunities: Position yourself where opportunities are likely to arise. Engage in activities like starting a new project, showcasing your work, building connections, or simply being present in spaces where new relationships and possibilities can unfold. Online or in person, actively seek environments that align with your current interests or the future goals you aspire to achieve.

⋆ Cultivate Awareness of the Small Wins: Pay attention to the little victories and patterns that emerge in your life. Celebrate small successes, as they often lead to bigger breakthroughs.

⋆ Create a Vision Board: Visualise your ideal life and goals by creating a vision board. Place it somewhere visible and use it as a reminder of where you’re headed, keeping your focus sharp and intentional.

⋆ Express Gratitude Daily: Make it a habit to acknowledge and thank God (or who/what you believe in) for the blessings in your life. Gratitude shifts your perspective and keeps you aware of the abundance already surrounding you.

Remember, there's always someone who wants the live you have already.

⋆ Align Your Actions with Your Goals: Take practical steps that align with your vision. Learning, saving, planning, or improving yourself, make sure your daily actions are contributing to the life you desire.

⋆ Be Patient and Trust the Process: Luck doesn’t appear overnight. Trust that your effort and intentions are paving the way for your goals, even when progress seems slow.

Faith in the journey will keep you motivated.

Trust the journey, and watch how things align in your favour. Best of luck in your growth!

[cherienymphe]

Suburbia X

Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: mentions of NON-CON, DUB-CON, blackmail, voyeurism, stalking, breeding kink, eventual violence, age gap, brief side of Bucky x reader, babysitter!Peter, mommy!reader

➥ banner by @maysdigitalarts | divider by @silkholland

➥ series masterlist

~

“Thanks for coming.”

That was what you finally said to Peter after you both had been sitting on your couch for what felt like hours. In truth, it was only about ten minutes, but the silence was so tense and heavy—and you were so nervous and terrified of the young man in front of you—that the time didn’t pass normally in your mind.

Peter wasn’t wearing his glasses today, and without them he looked beyond only twenty-three. Or maybe that was all in your head. Maybe the reveal of his true character and nature made him seem so much more intimidating…and in turn, older. His dark curls framed his face as he gazed at you, patiently waiting for you to say what he was no doubt eagerly waiting to hear.

“Well…” he ran his eyes over your face. “Over the phone I asked if this was about our talk, and you said sort of, so naturally I became curious.”

You nodded at that, glancing away from him and taking in the silence of your house. Your girls were asleep, and you envied them in this moment. You envied their innocence and their complete ignorance of what was going on around them and their own part in it. You would never in a million years tell them what you were about to put yourself through just to protect them and their quality of life, but you hoped they’d grow up to understand the lengths you would go to for them.

You swiped your tongue between your lips.

“I wanted to tell you face to face that you were right,” you finally said, looking at him.

Peter’s face was hard to read, but there was a noticeable glint in his dark eyes that made your heart stutter. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he straightened, and it made him appear taller. You felt so small and insignificant beneath his gaze, and you desperately tried to remember what you were doing and why you were doing it. Peter had seamlessly shifted the power dynamic—and in the worst way possible—and you desperately needed to have the upperhand again.

“When I chose to be a single mom…I did it with no regrets and because it was genuinely what I wanted.”

Peter leaned in a bit, and you spoke up.

“...and so…determined to prove something, I think that I never even really considered the possibility of more. Of more helping hands, of more comforting figures in their lives, of more…love that could be given to my girls,” you continued, looking between his eyes. “...and me.”

Peter wasn’t saying anything, and you felt a stab of panic, wondering if he saw through you.

“You were right. You are so good to them…and me, and it’s terrifying not only because it’s new but also because it’s you.”

You abruptly stood, turning away from him.

“You’re so much younger and I hired you and Peter, you have to understand,” your voice cracked as you stared at the wall. “You have to understand how I’m feeling because this makes me look and feel like some predator, like-.”

You cut yourself off when familiar hands took your arms, forcing you to face him, and you watched the way Peter’s expression softened with one look at your face.

“I know that I said some unkind things, but this situation is very tricky and scary and has the potential to really change my life in a way that can’t be undone or at the very least not for years and years to come-.”

“I know that,” he whispered, finally speaking again. “Trust me, I understand-.”

“You say that, but if this doesn’t work out, you're not the one who’s going to have to deal with the fallout. Do you truly understand how people will see me? It doesn’t matter that this was reciprocated. Cougar will be one of the nicer words I’ll be referred to as…”

Your words died in your throat as Peter gently shushed you, one hand coming up to graze your now tearful cheek. The way he looked at you told you that he believed everything you were saying, but you couldn’t be sure. He leaned in a tad, and on instinct, you turned your face away. Your gaze lowered to focus on the floor, and you felt Peter’s breath on your face as he sighed.

“No. You’re not the kind of woman to just jump into something like this, and I should have known that,” he whispered, more to himself than you. “I should’ve known that you would panic and freak out and follow your initial instinct of rejecting this in every way you can.”

The younger man rubbed your arms, hands gently sliding up and down over the fabric of your sleeves, and you shuddered.

“You’re smart about things, and it’s why I love you,” he murmured, making your stomach churn. “I should have thought about that, gone about this differently.”

You finally met his gaze, and your heart dropped to your stomach at the way he looked at you. It reminded you of that night—or what you could remember from it, anyway—and the morning after and the day at the restaurant. One of his hands tightened on your arm, and you swallowed at the position you put yourself in.

“...but you don’t understand what you do to me,” Peter chuckled.

It was light, and his teeth winked at you, and his eyes gleamed in a way that terrified you. It didn’t matter what you believed because Peter believed he was in love with you and was the one for you and was the best father for your girls. His mind was made up, and you felt that you should’ve accepted as such when he went through such great lengths to back you into a corner.

He handled this whole ordeal like a man with nothing to lose, and you supposed that in a way, that was true. In this scenario, you were the one with way more to lose. If this ever got out, you would be the villain in this story, and it was something that Peter had so eloquently thrown in your face.

“I don’t think I can say I regret confronting you like I did at the restaurant,” he confessed, his thumb brushing along your lip. “...but believe it or not, I didn’t take pleasure in putting things into perspective for you like that.”

So that was what he was calling it.

“I don’t take pleasure in hurting you in any way, even if it is only making you uncomfortable for a short while, but I needed to make you understand. Understand what you mean to me and what I would do to have you.”

When his lips gently brushed along yours, you let him kiss you.

“You don’t even know the things I would do for you—the things I have done for you,” he whispered into the kiss, and you couldn’t stop your form from trembling.

Peter noticed, and he made a humming noise.

“There are a lot of things for you to fear in this world, but now that we see eye to eye, I’ll never be one of them.”

You felt tears kiss your eyes as he tried to kiss you again, but spoke, effectively halting his movements.

“It’s not you I’m afraid of, Peter.”

A lie.

He seemed to understand what you were getting at, and he chuckled again. The dark-haired man pulled back some to gaze at you like you were so silly, and you hated how boyish that smile made him.

“You’re it for me, Y/N. Don’t you get that? Hmm?”

He held your gaze with his own dark one.

“Whatever comes of this, you’ll never have to doubt my loyalty. I’m going to be by your side when things inevitably progress into something more public, and I will make sure that whatever those…” he took a deep breath, lip curling over his teeth. “...women put you through, it will be worth it.”

His brows drew together as he fought to make you believe his words.

“I swear to you, now that it won’t hold a candle to coming home to me everyday. I’m going to make you so happy that whatever they have to say won’t mean a thing to you.”

Peter kissed you again then, deeply inhaling.

“I’m not going anywhere…”

You knew that those words—if nothing else—were true, and that was what you hated.

You stood with your arms around yourself as you watched Peter bring a suitcase into the house. You had prepared yourself for this, anticipating by all of his actions so far that Peter was not one to take things slow. Or at least, he didn’t want to take things slowly with you. Besides, if you were going to get your hands on every copy of that tape he possibly had, then you needed to be up under each other’s noses.

You needed him to be comfortable enough to bring his things—his laptop—into your house and not spare your proximity a second thought. When he caught your eye, you gave him a gentle smile, and while he was slow to return it, he eventually did. You took your time in nearing him.

“I know how nervous this makes you,” he told you, and he reached for your face. “It’s okay. We’ll be discreet for a while, and I’ll gradually make myself at home, and when the time is right…”

He trailed off, a secretive smile dancing on his lips at the thought of going public with you one day.

“Thank you,” you finally replied. “You don’t even understand how much that puts me at ease, Peter. Especially since I know how difficult this is for you.”

The look he gave you encouraged you to elaborate, and so you did.

“While I might not completely understand it just yet, you do love me, and it can’t be easy hiding a relationship with someone you care about so much.”

You noticed the way his face fell a bit at that, and you reached out to rest your hand on his arm.

“I don’t doubt that you want to navigate like any other couple in the world, but you’re being considerate of me and how this will affect me, and it means a lot.”

You stepped closer, and you watched Peter’s eyes drink in the action.

“You’re so good to me,” you whispered to him.

At that, he didn’t take his eyes off of you, and you played with the fabric of his sweater.

“...and I’m sorry that I let my fear and panic prevent me from seeing that before.”

You watched him take a deep breath, dark eyes still trained on you.

“It’s okay,” he quietly told you. “I forgive you for that, you don’t have to…”

He shook his head.

“Don’t apologize for it.”

You took his hand, and Peter was eager in threading his fingers through yours. He pulled you along up the stairs to unpack, and you told yourself that smiling in his face and kissing him with your eyes closed and telling him what he wanted to hear was the easy part. As you walked down the hall—Peter taking the lead—you reminded yourself that the hard part was only just beginning. 

The real challenge would come in cohabitating with him like he was someone you cared about. The truly hard part of all this would come when he wanted to shower together and wrap his arms around you in bed and pull you against him like you were any average couple in love. 

When he wanted to have sex with you.

This would go beyond just acting, but you would have to fully embody someone else—someone who cared about this man almost as much as he cared about you but was simply hesitant and nervous. You would have to take on an entirely new persona, and to make it all the more challenging, you had to do it in enough time to get what you needed before he wanted this relationship to go public.

…because you didn’t care what Peter said.

He wasn’t going to be content with keeping this between you forever.

You hadn’t missed the way he’d said Bucky’s name at that restaurant. There were more sides to Peter you hadn’t been privy to yet, and you hoped to God that you never would be, but you knew without a doubt that there was a part of Peter that wanted to show this entire town you belonged to him. Peter had never struck you as that kind of man, but then again, there were a lot of things about him that you absolutely would have never guessed.

As you helped him unpack what he brought over, you tried to keep your face even at the sight of clothes and toiletries and nothing else.

“I’ll have to tell Nat that I rehired you, of course,” you said to him, hesitantly glancing his way. “It seems silly to have you hide away any time she comes over.”

Peter found that funny for some reason, and he nodded.

“Of course. What are you going to tell her when she asks why?”

You stewed on that for a moment.

“I haven’t decided on that yet. Maybe I’ll tell her that I just really need you around, right now,” you eventually came up with, and it wasn’t a lie.

“Well, it’s not a lie,” he said, voicing your own thought. “You do need me.”

He leaned in and pressed his lips to the side of your neck, pausing in his unpacking to give you his attention. Peter’s intentions were pretty clear, and you didn’t doubt that said intentions had been on his mind from the moment you’d uttered the words ‘you were right’ earlier. While you knew that it would eventually come to that—probably as soon as hours from now—you weren’t mentally prepared. You couldn’t make your body do that, right now, and so you hurried to ruin his mood.

“I’ll have to tell Bucky the same…”

Your words had the desired effect, and you relaxed a little when Peter froze. He lifted his head from the crook of your neck to rest his chin on it, and while you had expected several things, you hadn’t expected the next words that came from his mouth.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea for Mr. Barnes to come by here, anymore.”

You couldn’t stop your frown at that, and you pulled away just a little to turn and face him. Peter’s visage was entirely serious, and your frown deepened as you realized this. His expression didn't relent at all the longer you stared at him, and you were the one to break the tense silence.

“Peter…”

“I’m serious,” he confirmed, moving to finish unpacking the rest of his clothes. “Now that our relationship has evolved, I don’t want him coming by here anymore.”

“...but he’s my friend.”

The younger man gave a scoffing bark of a laugh at that, and you watched him run his hand through his thick curls.

“Friend,” he repeated. “Yeah, sure.”

The humor disappeared from his features by the time he looked at you again.

“He’s your friend because you didn’t want more with him. If you had, he wouldn’t be your friend right now, and we’d be having an entirely different conversation.”

You blinked at that.

“The kind that would involve me telling you to break up with him because I actually dislike sharing.”

His tone was serious, and you swallowed as he stared you down. Your lips parted, and you snapped them shut, thinking over your next words carefully.

“If I suddenly stop being friends with him, it’ll be very suspicious, Peter.”

He stared at you for what felt like too long, expression unmoving before his lips suddenly pulled into a small smile.

“While true, I imagine that him walking in on you coming around me would be even more suspicious.”

His words had you blinking furiously, but before you could respond to such a thinly veiled threat, you heard a familiar cry. The curly-haired young man didn’t hesitate to drop what he was doing in favor of checking on whichever twin had woken up from her nap first.

You were still tense from his parting words, and telling yourself that you needed to pick your battles wisely, you softly sighed.

You knew that you couldn’t just outright ask Peter to delete that video. It was so brazenly stupid that not only would Peter accuse you of not trusting him, but he might even suspect this whole thing was an act. He’d be right, of course, and it was why you had to convincingly get him settled into a comfortable lull. 

…and you had to do that by committing to doing things you weren’t comfortable doing.

Your fingers clawed at your sheets as Peter’s tongue swiped between your folds and pressed itself into your core. Your girls were down for the night, and you knew that as soon as they were, and dinner was done and put away, Peter would waste no time in reaching out for what he felt now belonged to him.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about that night since it happened,” he’d murmured to you, humming at the taste of wine on your lips.

You’d concluded that you needed something in your system if you were to commit to this.

“The sounds you made, the way you tasted on my lips,” he’d breathed into your mouth. “The way you felt wrapped around me.”

He’d taken a reprieve on the stairs, just pinning you against the wall and kissing you. His hands hadn’t stayed in one place for long, touching every inch of you that he could, and when he seemed satisfied, he continued in pulling you towards your bedroom.

“Fuck,” he’d swore into the kiss the moment you were through the threshold. “I can’t wait to be inside of you again.”

The moments that followed bled together into one long endless pleasurable moment. You didn’t know if it was a relief or not that Peter was so skilled and so determined to make you come undone. You found it shockingly easy to surrender to his ministrations, unable to swallow down your moans and whimpers as he ate you out.

His tongue—so warm and firm—greedily lapped at you, and his fingers pressed into your thighs so hard that you didn’t doubt there’d be bruises in the morning. Your chest arched as you squirmed on the bed, and unable to help yourself, one of your hands found it’s way to his curls. Peter hummed against your cunt, and you knew that he liked that.

You confirmed as much when he reached up to find your other hand before forcing it to find a home in his hair right next to your other one. You were completely naked—Peter having wasted no time in getting your clothes off of you—but your nudity did nothing to cool you down. A thin layer of sweat coated your skin, and you absentmindedly recalled that Peter was only partially undressed.

It seemed that he only just remembered that too, and when he pulled his mouth away from you, you were ashamed of the stab of disappointment that tore through you. Your chest heaved with deep breaths, and you blinked as you watched him sit up before getting undressed.

He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he did, pulling his lip between his teeth as he rejoined you on the bed, a hand wrapping around your ankle. The wine in your system definitely helped you to relax, but if you were honest, it did more than that. Playing this part came to you easier than you anticipated, and that worried you a little. Maybe even scared you a little.

The younger man was gentle in running his hand up your leg, fingers dancing along your skin as he did so. His dark eyes appeared even darker if that were at all possible, and in this moment, it was evident that Peter cared about nothing more than he did the thought of being inside of you again.

Glancing down, you caught sight of his cock—erect and wet at the very tip and just waiting to fill you up.

“God, you’re beautiful,” Peter murmured, reaching for your face.

When he kissed you, you didn’t swallow down your hum in time, and your throat vibrated as it climbed out of your mouth and into the kiss. Peter’s entire body covered yours as he made himself comfortable on top of you, and—playing your part—you rested your hands on his back. His hands slid down to grip your thighs, pushing them apart to accommodate him, and you gasped at the feel of his length pressing against you.

Peter didn’t waste any more time.

Forcing your knees to hook over his arms, Peter lifted his hips and dipped his cock into you with one smooth thrust. A choked gasp left you, and your mouth was soundlessly parted as he started to thrust into you, hips snapping against yours every time. Your hands slid over him, unsure of what to grasp onto, and you couldn’t stop the small whimpers that started to fall from your lips.

Peter was fucking you with the assured confidence that he finally had you.

The strained grunts that left his mouth were in time with every push of his cock, and you were almost ashamed of how wet you were. Although, you supposed that it would only prove to help you in convincing Peter this was genuine. You were literally dripping around him, and you repeatedly reminded yourself that you were playing a part. That you were doing what you needed to do to earn his trust and get him to let his guard down.

Although that was easier said than done when his lips kept seeking yours out. Every kiss he gave you was hungry and heated, and you gasped again when his teeth nipped at the sensitive skin there. His toned chest repeatedly brushed against yours with every movement, and the gentle stimulation against your hardened buds made you shudder beneath him.

Every time he dipped his cock into you, the sound reached your ears…and his too.

“You’re dripping for me,” he whispered into the kiss. “I love how wet you are.”

You wanted to come up with something to say to reel him in more, but you were genuinely at a loss for words. It was hard to focus on anything besides the feel of him stretching you out.

“I’m so glad you came around, So glad,” he murmured, kissing you over and over and over again. “I really…I really didn’t want to do things the hard way.”

Your bed shook beneath you as Peter pounded into you, his curls tickling your skin.

“You may not believe that, but it’s true.”

He finally paused, holding himself inside of you as he pulled his head back some. He stared into your eyes—both of your chests heaving—and he looked between them as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I meant it when I said I don't take pleasure in hurting you. That’s not something that makes me happy,” he said through uneven breaths.

He slowly pulled his hips back before snapping them against you again, and you gasped. He didn’t take his eyes off of you as he fucked you, carefully watching your face.

“...but I’ll do what I have to. You understand?”

He didn’t give you time to respond.

“I’m smart, and you know it, and I know you know it.”

Your nails dragged along his skin as he thrust into you slowly, taking his time in pushing the length of him into you.

“So if all of this is just you playing at something, then you need to be prepared to play at it for the rest of your life,” he whispered to you, staring into your eyes. “...because you don’t know the things I’ve done to protect you.”

Your wide eyes looked between his at that.

“...and I’ll do worse to keep you.”

[brandyschillace]

The Forgotten History of the World’s First Transgender Clinic

I finished the first round of edits on my nonfiction history of trans rights today. It will publish with Norton in 2025, but I decided, because I feel so much of my community is here, to provide a bit of the introduction.

[begin sample]

The Institute for Sexual Sciences had offered safe haven to homosexuals and those we today consider transgender for nearly two decades. It had been built on scientific and humanitarian principles established at the end of the 19th century and which blossomed into the sexology of the early 20th. Founded by Magnus Hirschfeld, a Jewish homosexual, the Institute supported tolerance, feminism, diversity, and science. As a result, it became a chief target for Nazi destruction: “It is our pride,” they declared, to strike a blow against the Institute. As for Magnus Hirschfeld, Hitler would label him the “most dangerous Jew in Germany.”6 It was his face Hitler put on his antisemitic propaganda; his likeness that became a target; his bust committed to the flames on the Opernplatz. You have seen the images. You have watched the towering inferno that roared into the night. The burning of Hirschfeld’s library has been immortalized on film reels and in photographs, representative of the Nazi imperative, symbolic of all they would destroy. Yet few remember what they were burning—or why.

Magnus Hirschfeld had built his Institute on powerful ideas, yet in their infancy: that sex and gender characteristics existed upon a vast spectrum, that people could be born this way, and that, as with any other diversity of nature, these identities should be accepted. He would call them Intermediaries.

Intermediaries carried no stigma and no shame; these sexual and Gender nonconformists had a right to live, a right to thrive. They also had a right to joy. Science would lead the way, but this history unfolds as an interwar thriller—patients and physicians risking their lives to be seen and heard even as Hitler began his rise to power. Many weren’t famous; their lives haven’t been celebrated in fiction or film. Born into a late-nineteenth-century world steeped in the “deep anxieties of men about the shifting work, social roles, and power of men over women,” they came into her own just as sexual science entered the crosshairs of prejudice and hate. The Institute’s own community faced abuse, blackmail, and political machinations; they responded with secret publishing campaigns, leaflet drops, pro-homosexual propaganda, and alignments with rebel factions of Berlin’s literati. They also developed groundbreaking gender affirmation surgeries and the first hormone cocktail for supportive gender therapy.

Nothing like the Institute for Sexual Sciences had ever existed before it opened its doors—and despite a hundred years of progress, there has been nothing like it since. Retrieving this tale has been an exercise in pursuing history at its edges and fringes, in ephemera and letters, in medal texts, in translations. Understanding why it became such a target for hatred tells us everything about our present moment, about a world that has not made peace with difference, that still refuses the light of scientific evidence most especially as it concerns sexual and reproductive rights.

[end sample]

I wanted to add a note here: so many people have come together to make this possible. Like Ralf Dose of the Magnus-Hirschfeld-Gesellschaft (Magnus Hirschfeld Archive), Berlin, and Erin Reed, American journalist and transgender rights activist—Katie Sutton, Heike Bauer. I am also deeply indebted to historian, filmmaker and formative theorist Susan Stryker for her feedback, scholarship, and encouragement all along the way. And Laura Helmuth, editor of Scientific American, whose enthusiasm for a short article helped bring the book into being. So many LGBTQ+ historians, archivists, librarians, and activists made the work possible, that its publication testifies to the power of the queer community and its dedication to preserving and celebrating history. But I ALSO want to mention you, folks here on tumblr who have watched and encouraged and supported over the 18 months it took to write it (among other books and projects). @neil-gaiman has been especially wonderful, and @always-coffee too: thank you.

The support of this community has been important as I’ve faced backlash in other quarters. Thank you, all.

NOTE: they are attempting to rebuild the lost library, and you can help: https://magnus-hirschfeld.de/archivzentrum/archive-center/

[permanentlyfemale]

⚠️ Feminization, Misgendering, Forced detrans kink ahead! ⚠️

Today is a scary day for you. As a trans man, finding the right therapist is far more difficult than it is for most people, especially as you weren’t looking for just a new therapist today. You also need someone to write you a top surgery letter. Although you’ve only been on T for 2 months, barely enough to notice anything besides an increased libido and clit growth, your breasts are by far your biggest source of dysphoria. You often wear two binders when you’re going anywhere, and even then, a sizable bump is visible on your chest. You’re hoping they may become easier to bind with hormones, but you already know that you’ll need surgery regardless.

“Milo Brown?” A masculine voice calls your name from across the room. Glancing up, you see a very attractive man, much taller than you, looking to be in good shape under his professional attire, but not overly muscular. His dark shoulder-length wavy hair and stubble complement his gentle, masculine face and warm brown eyes.

Surprised by the man’s beauty, you stumble on your words as you rise from your seat. “I- uh- I’m here.”

“Great! Let’s get back to my office.” He smiles warmly and gestures for you to follow him out of the waiting room and down a hallway, passing mostly empty offices on the way. This doesn’t seem too odd, as there was construction on the lower floor. Maybe some patients didn’t like the noise and cancelled? Or maybe you’re trying to distract yourself from thinking of the exceedingly attractive man that may soon be your therapist. You’ve considered yourself gay since coming out, but starting hormones has certainly made that attraction all the more apparent.

As he opens his office door, you’re surprised by how casual it is. There’s a long couch next to an armchair, with a clipboard set neatly on top. His desk is to the side, seemingly ignored while clients were present in favor of a more personal layout. Thinking of something to say as you sat on the couch, you spit out “I like your office.”

“Thank you Milo, I spent a lot of time thinking of the anatomy of the room and how to make my clients most at ease. I find this works best.” He smiles at you, his eyes gentle and enticing. “I’m Dr. Sterling, I specialize in support for LGBT and FTM clients. Nice to meet you! Tell me a but about yourself and what brings you here.”

“My name is Milo Brown, I’m 19 years old, and I just started testosterone. I’ve been out as trans for a while but finally got access to hormones and I’m hoping to get top surgery as well, but I need a letter for it. I also just need support with my dysphoria and depression.” You cross your arms over your large chest self-consciously.

“Well, that’s nothing I haven’t heard before. Can you tell me more about your dysphoria regarding your chest?”

Shifting uncomfortably in your chair, you hesitantly proceed. “Every day is awful! They’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and I go to sleep trying not to feel or think about them. They’re so big and heavy that I feel them whenever I move and it makes me so dysphoric. It’s also impossible to make myself flat, so I never pass. As a gay man, it’s so hard to find a man who would want a guy with a body like mine!”

“Oh, Milo, I think that’s very negative thinking. Plenty of men would find you attractive! I thought you were quite beautiful when I saw you myself.”

You’re surprised by his words! That sounded very flirtatious, but maybe he was just trying to boost your ego. Either way, it made the empty space between your legs tingle when he said it. You also didn’t know he was queer, but it definitely makes you more comfortable with him. “Well… that does make me feel better. I still don’t feel comfortable with my chest though.”

“Why don’t we try something? This is an exercise I’ve done with plenty of my transmasuline patients before, and it has always improved their lives and helped with dysphoria. While we do it, I can assess you for top surgery as well! How does that sound?” He smiled at you expectingly.

“Uhhh… yeah, that sounds good. What are we doing?”

“I’m just going to have you answer some questions about your body and dysphoria. This may get uncomfortable, but it’s all part of this process. I’m sure you can trust me, right?”

“Of course!” You answer instinctively.

“Right. First, I want you to take off your shirt and binder.” He instructs casually.

“What!? I thought we were just answering questions. Is that necessary?” You’re again surprised, he wasn’t a surgeon and you had never shown anyone your chest before. You didn’t want to look at it yourself, much less this beautiful man you’re expecting to see regularly!

“I understand this is surprising and uncomfortable, but I want to understand your perspective on your body, as well as assess the size and density for surgery. I need to know this for the letter, and I understand this is very important to you. I’m sorry for the discomfort, Milo.” He looked at you apologetically, his brown eyes sparkling, staring in to your soul and shooting down between your legs.

“I… okay.” What he was saying did make sense, and you would do most anything for this surgery. Resolving to just get this over with, you take off your oversized hoodie and throw it on the couch next to you. Grabbing both binders at once, you exert a herculean force squeezing yourself out, panting as your huge breasts fly out. You blush with embarrassment as a loud clap can be heard from them swinging together.

Dr. Sterling calmly walks closer to you. “Do you know your cup size?”

“Uh… no, sorry.”

“That’s alright, we can measure now.” He smiles warmly and pulls out some measuring tape. Without hesitation, he walks up to you and wraps it around your chest! He first measures your underbust before moving to measure your bust. His hands rest on your breasts as he does so. “Alright… looks like you have J cups.” His hand brushes your nipple as he backs away.

“Mmph!” Involuntarily, you let out a short, feminine moan. Both the dysphoria of knowing your overwhelming cup size and your accidental vocalization leave you embarrassed and blushing harder than ever.

“It doesn’t seem like you’ve experienced any vocal changes from testosterone.” He observes.

“Umm… not yet, no.”

“It also seems like you have quite sensitive nipples?”

“I guess…”

“Well, have you ever considered embracing your breasts?”

“Huh?” You were confused. They made you sad and dysphoric, how could you ever embrace them? He did say whatever he was doing worked for all of his other transmasc patients, but this seemed absurd.

“Your breast are way too big to bind properly. I’ve seen you wearing two binders in here, and that is not healthy. As your therapist, I can’t encourage you to damage your body in such a way, and especially without two binders, you wouldn’t be able to hide them at all anyways. And why go through the trouble of binding if everyone can tell? It might do you some good to just accept your body as it is. It’s not like whether you bind now will affect surgery.”

Unfortunately, everything he was saying made perfect sense. Even when binding, it was very obvious you had breasts. Why go through all the trouble, especially if it was hurting your body? You were dysphoric either way, might as well be more comfortable physically. “I guess… I guess you’re right.”

“Yes… unfortunately it’s also not very possible hormones could reduce them to a bindable size either.”

This devastated you. Even later on testosterone, you would have obvious breasts? How could you expect anyone to take you seriously as a man? You had hoped to begin passing in public soon, and finally begin living comfortably, but you weren’t so sure now. Would it even be safe to live as a non-passing trans man? Why were you going through so much for hormones if there was no hope of passing before surgery anyways? Maybe you should just wait until then for hormones- no one will gender you right as you are now. “Maybe… maybe I should pause testosterone until surgery then.”

“Yes, I can see why. That might be the safest option for you.” He nodded solemnly. “We can practice some exercises to reduce dysphoria until then, if you’d like.” His frown shifted in to a comforting smile.

Still upset, you nodded.

He moved closer and, before you could react, placed one hand on each perky, round breast, grabbing you by the boobs.

Surprised, you squeaked.

“This is just to get you used to your breasts. It often helps most when someone else does it, so you’re more comfortable with other people seeing them.” He gently squeezed and pulled, running his fingers along your supple breasts, warm palms pressing your hard nipples.

“Mmmmmm-! Oooh!” You let out a series of feminine wails as the doctor palms at your breasts. They were so sensitive and they felt so heavy- so wrong on your body- and yet they sent waves of pleasure throughout your curvy figure.

“Are you still going to go by Milo? I mean, you’re stopping T until surgery because you won’t be able to pass. It would be weird to only keep the name and pronouns, especially for strangers.” His hands shifted to thumb at your nipples.

Your thoughts were flooded with waves of pleasure shooting from your tits. The importance of this decision didn’t fully register, but what he was saying made sense to you. “You’re right.”

“Good girl.”

“Huhh…”

“People are going to refer to you by what you look like. You know you don’t pass. This is just exposure training, okay?”

“Okay…” You mindlessly agree as he moves his head close to your breast.

“See? You are a good girl.” He starts to suck on your nipple, causing you to throw your head back and wail in pleasure. You don’t know when his own clothes came off, but he’s getting on top of you and pulling your pants off, leaving you in just your boxers with his much larger biologically male body pinning you down, suddenly kissing your lips.

“What… what are you doing now, d-doctor…” he cuts you off as you pant your words out.

“The easiest way to adapt to and accept being seen as a woman is to have sex with a straight man, one who can use you as only male can use female. You need this, Amelia. It’s okay.”

Hearing your deadname makes you cringe with dysphoria. You’ve always felt an aversion towards it, despising the femininity it signaled. You struggle to reconcile your attraction to the doctor and trust in his methods to your current panic. This all felt good and sounded logical but it’s happening too fast to react, and these are all such big decisions, and suddenly he’s pulling your boxers off.

“Your pussy is so perfect. You make such a sexy woman.” He rubs the length of his cock along your clit and hole. The distinction between your pathetic nub and his masculine length is obvious. He gropes your massive jiggling breasts, squeezing them together and lowering his head to kiss and suck your nipples as his dick prods your entrance.

“Doctor Sterling…” You moan his name as his assault on your tits grows heavier. He sloppily makes out with your huge boobs, enjoying every second he can get drowning in your massive breasts.

He momentarily pulls his mouth from your tits. “Yes… fuck, Amelia!” He rams his hard cock all the way inside you, hitting your cervix as he moans your deadname, resuming his assault on your massive wobbling boobs all the while.

You scream and wail, unsure if it’s in pleasure or some mix of dysphoria and grief for your lost ambitions. Whatever male identity you insisted on was currently obstructed by your massive tits and the straight man enjoying them as he pounded in to your soft, tight vagina. Anyone who saw you two would know immediately that this was heterosexual sex- they would never stop to consider you could be anything but a curvy woman being held down and fucked by a handsome man. Suddenly, the doctor’s thrusts sped up. You forgot condoms, and you’re barely on T!

Right as you open your mouth, he interrupts. “I’m gonna cum, Amelia! I’m cumming inside you!” He holds himself against your cervix, comforting you as you begin to scream. “Shhh, good girl, it’s okay.”

You feel his hot cum flood in to your unprotected pussy, tears falling from your eyes. Feeling the sticky cum start to leak out, you manage to speak. “Do… do you have a towel?”

“Uhhh… here!” He grabs your binders and rips them both, turning them in to makeshift towels as he pulls out, along with a flood of cum.

You know you said you wouldn’t bind anymore, but having the option taken away made everything all the more real. You know it was for the best tho. He specializes in helping trans men, and he said this always works. You just have to trust him! As time runs out, you don’t even realize you forgot to finish your top surgery letter.

Still… you couldn’t wait to book your next session.

[peachesandfictionalmen]

Jason Todd x best friend!paramedic!reader- gn

You always supposed you and Jason had become so close simply because your schedules synced.

You both occupied so much of the night you were bound to run into each other eventually. Sharing burgers and stories on rooftops with this man who is so gentle yet domineering to most helped to break up the graveyard shifts.

Your shared laughter broke the silence of lonely nights between calls and crimes.

The Red Hood quickly became a familiar face when he had helped you up to a rooftop or carry a patient and saved your life a dozen or so times. But you only got so close after you had to save him, hiding your identity becomes considerably harder when you’ve got a gunshot wound and a nasty concussion.

After that Jason sought out your company freely, and it started a rooftop routine that quickly turned into a friendship. Eventually Jason was cooking meals in your kitchen because he says leftovers are better than ramen every night, and having karaoke dancing parties in your living room. Spontaneous movie nights (more accurately mornings) that have your legs draped across Jason’s lap, him massaging your calves with his restless hands.

At some point Jason started being there all the time, he filled your nights and joined you the mornings that your friends couldn’t make brunch or when you both just needed the company. He became a constant comfort, the man your friends teased you about, a presence you craved when he was gone, and even though his smirk could make your stomach flip, neither of you wanted to risk your friendship to turn it into more.

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

It was one of those nights were you trudge up to your apartment at the end of a draining shift and fall straight into bed, assuming you make it that far. Swinging your front door open after fumbling with the key in the lock, the first thing you notice is the breeze that flows through the apartment. A chill going down your spine as the air hits you, you notice the open living room window. You carefully put down your work duffel, scanning the apartment with the flashlight off your belt, you find the answer to the open window.

A pair of familiar black boots, the same ones that normally end up next to your shoes at the door, give way to the rest of the familiar man, Jason, slumped over your coffee table in his currently disheveled Red Hood suit.

"hey doc" Jason lets out a grumble as he tries to move, the cuts across his body becoming more obvious as he clamors.

"careful, careful" You move to turn on the coffee table lamp before helping him get to the couch "sit, i'll grab my kit" sighing as your body wakes up from its groggy state.

Coming back to the couch you kneel in front of Jason to start with the wounds on his legs after making sure he didn't have any major injuries. "you gonna tell me what happened?" He was fine a couple of hours ago, when he'd brought you coffee between calls.

"Just a few scuffs s' all, i'm okay" He shifts on the couch at the sting of antiseptic.

"it looks like more than a few scuffs to me-" You continue to dab antiseptic into the wounds, noticing that a few might need to be stitched since their open and weeping.

"the guy was fond of knives" Jason shifts again, stiffly reaching over to push the hair out of your face. He hooks his finger behind your ear, lingering longer than necessary before leaning back. "thanks doc, i apologize for the intrusion."

You scoff lightly "Jay, you damn near live here, your hardly intruding." You finish one leg and start carefully looking over the other.

"I love you" He whispers it as casually as if he'd been asking what you wanted for dinner.

You glance up at him, startled, because you've never heard those words come from him, he's never used the word love towards anything. "love you too Jay", you try not to sound too nervous or desperate as your voice warbles with the unfamiliar phase, hands continuing to dab antiseptic at dried blood.

"no", suddenly your being hoisted up from your crouched position and into Jason's wide lap, his gun holsters digging into the side of your thighs. His calloused fingertips incline your chin so you're meeting his eyes. "i mean, I. Love. You." He punctuates each word and you're sure you've never heard him sound so scared.

Your hand settles against his chest and you feel every breath he takes. The familiar scent of leather, cologne and night air envelops you and you blink, finally responding. "I love you too"

His lips meet yours softly, like he's afraid you'll crumble. His grip on you tightens as you respond to the kiss and when your lips part from each other he lays his forehead against yours, repeating himself like the beginning of a mantra, "I love you".

[astracora]

Poly!LADs headcanons - because I'm a disaster human and they live rent free in my head.

Home Edition

Also includes the main mc I write with headcanons??? Canons????

Masterlist

Zayne is very clean, he tidies up as soon as he sees mess. Can't leave it for a second. (He also simply doesn't think to say to someone 'hey can you clean up x', he'll just go 'well I'm here' and tidy.)

Xavi will tidy but he'll normally have a set time in mind to do it, aka 'I'll do this in 10 minutes' except he means it. Which sometimes means Zayne gets to it quicker.

Raffy will fully forget the concept of tidying, everything becomes like his art studio. Will sometimes do 'I'll do this in 10 minutes' doesn't mean it.

Sylus is generally very tidy, will clean as he does anything, part of his 'leave nothing out as a weakness, remove traces of yourself as you move' energy, but it does make him easy to live with in regards to cleanliness.

MC is not tidy, they're chaotic and often forget where things are. They try to help manage the mess but often simply forget in the chaos of doing something. They just need a lil nudge and they'll go into cleaning mode and fix all the mess.

They all have jobs that tend to be 'theirs' though it's fluid depending on time restraints and current projects or life situations.

Raffy/Xavi are best at doing the grocery shopping. They're least bothered by crowded or loud places, and least likely to buy every sweet in the place. Raffy does do impulse purchases, but they generally take lists.

Xavier also takes care of the plants and the garden in the house. (Everyone likes checking in on the garden though.)

Sylus/Raffy are the best at cooking. Sylus cooks primarily as long as he has the time (tries to make it as much as he can), and Raffy cooks the best fish you'll ever eat in your life.

They will sometimes also supervise Xavier's cooking but with him it's a two man job of not letting the kitchen burn down. (Sylus doesn't want to replace another kitchen.)

Zayne is king of tidying, he doesn't do it all himself, and everyone tries to make sure they pick up their weight esp when he's very busy, but the man has systems upon systems.

MC does a bit of everything, they're not as patient with cooking, but enjoy baking a lot. Primarily they help stay on top of laundry, dishes and are co-captain to Zayne's cleaning frenzies.

They all have their at least one of their own specific rooms in the house, either specialised for their work, or just a specific place for them to destress if they want alone time.

Zayne: has his office.

Raffy: has an art room, he also kept his studio for anything he's keeping secret from the others (an art project) or for bigger pieces that he needs more space than the house can provide.

Sylus: has a music room, it's decorated with records and various instruments. Of course he keeps all his bases, home is home, work is work.

Xavier: he set up a planetarium in a nap room, just incase he gets home really late and needs to sleep but is worried about disturbing someone.

MC: has a room decked out in just every single collectible they've ever hoarded ever.

Raffy technically has the most 'normal' sleep schedule, awake in the day, asleep at night, except he also doesn't sleep when he's working on a painting, so it often goes out of the window.

Zayne has a sleep schedule which is normally he's awake in the day, asleep at night, but he's also a doctor so he works whenever he needs to, and this can often mean night shifts, very long shifts with on call sleep room visits, or simply his normal nightmare-based insomnia.

Sylus is awake at night and asleep during the day mostly, has a fairly reliable schedule in terms of active time, but he's a busy man who does a lot of work travel. So might not be at home very often because of that. While he pretty much sleeps exclusively in the day, if he's around and someone really wants company, he's happy to join them in bed. He's also always willing to be out in the day if someone asks for his presence for something.

Xavier sleeps whenever he's tired, he's a working hunter which means he's awake when he's needed for a mission, and he works at night as Lumiere, so he has absolutely zero schedule. He and Sylus are normally the ones who take naps together because of this.

MC's life schedule is very reliable, they work in the day or whenever they have a mission, but primarily they sleep at night. That said they have insomnia and they also suffer from frequent nightmares due to their history, because of this, they will take naps when they can, and will often be awake until the early hours of the morning unable to sleep properly.

[sp6ncers]

sunday morning — s reid

summary: reader is struggling on the anniversary of her trauma and spencer tries to comfort her.

spencer reid x fem! reader. angst, fluff? spencer's pov, 2nd person.

song: sunday morning by ethel cain

warnings/content: depression, trauma/ptsd, mentions of abuse & sexual assault (past), self deprecating talk from reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, pet names (baby, sweetheart, sweet girl, angel), non-sexual showering together, allusions to self harm but not really

wc: ~ 2.8k

author's note : hai !! this is my first tumblr fic so pls bare with me while i figure out how everything on this app works 😭 this is a very self indulgent & angsty fic because idk i just wanted to write it to make me feel better about some stuff that happened to me lolol anyway i hope u enjoy & any feedback is appreciated !!! 💞

Spencer is drinking coffee at the kitchen table, a book settled in his hands, when you drag yourself out of the bedroom. His gaze flits away from the book, falling onto your dishevelled form. You don't even look up at him, your eyes staying low as you trudge towards the bathroom, feet dragging on the floor.

His eyebrows furrow in concern, his worried gaze following your journey until the door shuts. The faint click of the lock sounds in the otherwise quiet apartment. Sliding a bookmark into place, Spencer closes his book and sets it down on the table.

He tries to think logically. Maybe you're just tired. That's a simple, normal explanation. It's not like you'd even done anything to show that something is wrong — yet his gut still tells him that. He's a profiler, after all. He's trained to read body language. And the way you had held yourself as you had passed through was a clear sign of distress.

After a few minutes, you emerge from the bathroom, your eyes somehow even more tired than before. Again, you don't look at him, and his concern only grows.

"Good morning, angel," Spencer says gently, his voice soft and almost cautious.

He gets a barely audible hum of acknowledgment and nothing more as you disappear back into the bedroom, shoulders slumped.

Worry gnaws on his bones with its sharp teeth, making his legs feel weak as he stands up and crosses the apartment to the bedroom. His knuckles tap gently against the slightly open door as he slowly pushes it wider. His eyes fall on your form, curled up small beneath the covers which rise and fall in time with your slow breathing.

Quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, he says your name. But you don't answer.

Spencer knows your struggle with depression; he's known since the third date the two of you went on. He has always been there for you, good days and bad, and he has always been patient and gentle and understanding. He knows what it's like to be stuck in your own mind, bad thoughts like a cage around you. But he's never seen you like this before.

In the time that you have been together — and the two months living with each other — he's witnessed your mental health worsen and become better. He's been by your side when you've had breakdowns and couldn't even leave your apartment. He's researched every possible way to help you feel better. He's done all he could to help you.

But what he's never seen is you so deeply distressed that you can't even say hi to him. Every morning, no matter what, you say hi, or good morning, or ask how he slept. But not today. It worries him, a deep pit forming in his stomach and swallowing him whole.

Carefully, he makes his way over to the bed and sits on the edge. The dip of the mattress beneath his weight makes you look up. He notices the redness in your eyes and the exhaustion on your face. Had you slept at all last night?

"Hey," Spencer says quietly, shifting to sit beside you. "Are you feeling okay?"

You're quiet for a few moments, and he wonders if you just don't feel like speaking today. Of course, that would be fine with him, but he'd much prefer to hear your voice.

"I'm okay," you respond, but the crack in your voice tells him otherwise.

"You sure?" he asks gently. He knows that if he asks if you're sure, you'll tell him you're not really okay. That's how it always goes. He doesn't mind it, but he always wishes you'd just tell him the first time he asks.

The room falls quiet as you push yourself into a sitting position, your back against the headboard. His eyes trace over your face and body language, taking note of the way you wrap your arms around yourself in an almost protective way. Your eyes glisten with unshed tears, red-rimmed, the dark bags beneath them prominent. The soft light filtering through the curtains shines against your damp cheeks; it would be beautiful if you weren't so upset. His heart aches, hating how utterly sad and distressed you look. He wants to take away all your pain and bury it in himself rather than in you. He would so much rather be the one suffering with whatever is bothering you than have to see you like this.

Your bottom lip quivers as you manage to force out the word, "No."

Eyes softening, he watches as you sniffle and bring your hands to your face, pressing your palms into your eyes. "What's wrong, baby? Did something happen?" he asks softly. "Or is it just a bad day today?"

You shake your head, wiping your hands down your face as tears begin to fall once again. You take a deep, shaky breath before speaking, your body shuddering as you let the breath out. "No— no, it... it, um..."

You can't seem to put your thoughts into words, your sentences fragmented and unsure. Spencer reaches out a gentle hand, resting it on your shoulder to test the waters. When you don't shy away from his touch, he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close as his other hand comes up to your hair.

"It's okay, sweetheart. Take your time."

Another deep breath, your body trembling in his embrace as you turn to bury your face against him. He doesn't mind that your tears are soaking through his shirt. He just wants to make you feel better.

"It's..." You don't finish your sentence, instead letting out a quiet sob that breaks Spencer's heart.

Of course, he's seen you cry before. But it's never been this bad. He hates the feelings that build within him, the feeling of helplessness, of being unable to do anything to make you feel better. His mind feels fuzzy, but he knows that's nothing compared to what you must be feeling. He can't even imagine what's going on inside your head right now. Instead of speaking, instead of rushing you to open up, he simply holds you tighter, rubbing your back in what he hopes is a soothing motion.

The way your body shudders against him with each shaky breath and gasping sob makes him feel sick. He wishes there was something he could do to make you feel better, but all he can think of is to just hold you close.

"I— I'm sorry," you whisper, your voice shaky and breathless.

His eyebrows furrow at your apology. Shaking his head, Spencer holds you tighter. "Why are you sorry?"

He feels the movement of your shrug as you bury yourself further against him. "I'm being stupid," you mumble, your words followed by another pained sob, the sound muffled against him.

"You're not being stupid, angel. Not at all," he assures you. "Whatever is making you feel like this isn't stupid. If it's upsetting you this much, it is not stupid, okay?"

A quiet sound, something akin to a whimper, escapes your lips as you bunch up his shirt in your fists. He knows you need something to ground you. He would let you rip his shirt to shreds if you needed to.

"I want to help you," Spencer continues softly, his hand rubbing slowly over your back. "I want to help you feel better, sweetheart. Can you tell me what's upsetting you, please?"

He doesn't mean to rush you — that's not something he would ever want to do. All he wants is to find out why you're feeling this way and what he can do to help. Seeing you like this, so hurt and broken, is destroying him. It's like a mould, creeping through his body and over each inch of him until his entire being aches.

You hesitate for a few moments, sniffling softly as you pull yourself away from where you had burrowed into his chest. Your hands are harsh as you wipe the tears from your face, fingers digging into your skin. Spencer gently takes your hands in his, pulling them away from your face to prevent you from hurting yourself.

"Hey, don't do that, please," he says gently, holding your hands in his lap and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. "I'm right here, okay? You can take as long as you need, but I'd really like to know what has you feeling like this, baby."

The breath you take in is deep and shaky, your body trembling as you sniffle. He reaches up one of his hands, cupping your cheek and gently wiping away your tears. "I love you, my sweet girl. So much. You can tell me anything, okay?"

Nodding, you lean your face into his palm and take a shaky breath. He watches you carefully, his thumb tenderly stroking over your cheek to comfort you. He knows that what you need to say won't be easy, not at all, and he knows you need a few moments to prepare yourself to say it. He waits quietly, patiently, listening to the shuddering breaths you take.

After a few moments, you finally speak. "Two years ago... I, um..."

You speak hesitantly, stumbling over your words as you try to get it out. Spencer's hand slips away from your face, trailing down your arm to hold your hand again. Giving your hand a reassuring squeeze, he stays silent to let you get this out.

"I was..." You trail off, swallowing nervously. After taking a deep breath, you wipe away your tears and attempt to continue. "I was in a relationship with a guy. He— he wasn't really, um, a good person."

The way you say it makes him nervous; his mind immediately goes to the worst possible places. He gives you another gentle squeeze, his other hand reaching up to carefully tuck your hair away from your damp, tearstained face. His touch is delicate and gentle, hoping he makes you feel better. You've barely even started explaining, but he feels his heart pounding and his throat growing tight with worry.

"We had been together for a— a few months, and... He'd, um, recently started getting kinda... I don't know. He— he'd started saying weird stuff and—"

You cut yourself off with a sniffle, blinking back more tears. Spencer can't imagine how hard this must be for you. His head is a mess, trapped somewhere between unfathomable worry and empathy for you, and anger at the fact that someone had hurt you so badly. He chews on his lip to stop himself from speaking as you brokenly explain what had happened on this day two years ago. His stomach twists, a nauseous feeling rising in his chest as you tell him how that man had violated your boundaries and ignored your protests to what he was doing. Each word is like a knife plunging into his chest, over and over and over. Each hurt little whimper as you recall the story breaks his heart further.

"He—" You sniffle again, blinking harshly as tears paint your skin. "I'm sorry," you mumble, wiping away your tears on your sleeve.

"Don't apologise," Spencer replies gently with a shake of his head as he gives your hand a squeeze. "Take your time, sweetheart."

Taking another trembling breath, you continue in a quiet, broken voice. "There were... there were bruises where h-he had grabbed me. It— it was like a reminder of what happened. I— I know that I should've... I should've ended things before it got that far, but I..." Your voice trails off. He knows what you mean. He's studied human behaviour enough to understand how abusive and manipulative relationships affect someone, making it difficult to leave.

"I just... I didn't know how. And— and I didn't really have anyone to— to go to," you murmur. "And I know... I know it's stupid to still be upset about it... But I just... I can still f-feel his hands on me, and— and I hate it. I— I can't get him off. Please get him off."

Your face crumples as you end your sentence with a sob, your shoulders shuddering. He carefully pulls you back into him, resting your head against his chest. One hand strokes your hair as the other securely wraps around you in the way he knows makes you feel better. His heart is in pieces, completely broken from what you'd told him. You haven't given him too much detail — he doesn't expect you to do that — but what you've said is enough for him to understand. He understands what happened is horrible, and awful, and sickening. He understands that you feel like you can't cleanse yourself from that awful man's touch. He understands that you might still be scared of your trust being broken again.

"It's okay," Spencer whispers, kissing the top of your head. "It isn't stupid to be upset. It's rational. It's normal. What happened to you was terrible, and I am so, so sorry you had to go through that, angel. I hope you know that it wasn't your fault. At all. And I promise you — I promise — you are safe with me."

You sniffle softly, and he can tell you're trying to control your shaky breathing. He continues to gently stroke your hair as his thumb rubs small circles on your waist through the fabric of your sweater. You shift against him, your fist rubbing at your eye.

"I'll never let anything like that happen to you ever again. I promise," he tells you softly, his voice sincere. He really hopes you know that he would never even think of doing that to you, but he understands that you might still be wary. "I love you more than anything."

It's quiet for a few minutes, the only sounds being your trembling breaths and occasional sniffles. He continues to hold you against him, trying to bring you comfort. He's glad you told him, and he hopes that you feel better now that you have, at least a little bit. His mind is a mess of emotions, but right now he just wants to focus on helping you calm down. He can deal with his own thoughts once he knows that you're okay. Sure, that isn't exactly a healthy way to deal with things, but he doesn't know what else there is to do.

"Everything hurts," you murmur, your voice muffled against him. He's not exactly sure what you mean, whether you're physically in pain or if it's just emotional turmoil, but either way, he wants to help.

"Do you want me to run you a shower?" he asks quietly. "Or get you a drink? Breakfast?"

"Shower," you whisper, your voice slightly hoarse from crying. "Please."

"Of course. Stay here."

Spencer carefully removes his arms from around you, his lips ghosting over your forehead in a soft kiss as he stands up. Heading into the bathroom, he turns on the shower and heats it up to the temperature he knows you like. After turning on the radiator and setting a towel on top to warm up, he walks back into the bedroom to find you looking much more calm than before. Giving you a gentle smile, he takes your hand and helps you up off the bed, guiding you into the bathroom.

Not wanting to overstep or make you uncomfortable, he asks, "Do you want me to stay?"

"Please," you respond softly with a nod.

"Okay," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "Should I come in with you, or—"

You give another nod in response before he can even finish the question. Slowly, tenderly, he helps you undress, taking note of the reddish marks on your skin. He assumes they're from where you showered yesterday and desperately tried to cleanse yourself of your ex's touch, your hands harsh and uncaring as you had scrubbed at your skin. His chest feels tight at the thought.

Following suit and undressing himself, he guides you into the shower so that you're standing beneath the warm spray of water. His touch is gentle and caring as he washes your hair the way you'd taught him. He makes sure you're okay before washing your body. Whispering quiet reassurances to you, Spencer rinses the soap suds from your skin and lets you wash his hair with a soft smile on his face. Once you're both finished, he pulls you into his arms and rests his chin on the top of your head.

"Except you," you murmur, and he almost doesn't hear it over the sound of the shower.

"Hm?" he hums, not sure what you mean.

"Everything hurts, except from you."

[strawberryshortcake0413]

Last hope (part 1)

Characters:yandere Leon S Kennedy (older version) x reader

Disclaimer: This fanfic contains dark-themed topics, such as kidnapping, depression, suicidal thoughts, non-consent, unwanted pregnancy,etc

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. MDNI

Warning: yandere Leon Kennedy, kidnapping, non-consent, depressed reader, manipulation, Stockholm syndrome, unwanted pregnancy, emotional & mental abuse, out of character leon etc

@dollywons credits for the divider, thank you :))

The pictures used does not belong to me!!!

Chapters: pt2 pt3 pt4

“Fuck off” you muttered to your Alex. Today was already as hard as it was. You didn't need him giving you unnecessary advice on how to grief a patient.

Who does he think he is?? You thought to yourself. Listening to a bratty egotistical younger resident telling you what to do when your patient dies during surgery? No. At least you will not tolerate his behavior.

Growing up with a careless single mother in poverty may have made you like this. Always numb and cold. That's just what people think of you.

You weren't always this unattending. In the first year of medical school, you were the nicest and the most helpful student there is. Things changed as your career proceeded within the years. You saw how ugly people can be. They took you as weak and something they can use to get what they want.

Not again. Never again

The loud alarm went off in the hospital wing. You quickly got up as your pager rang. In-room 303, there was a little girl. 10 years old, had a diagnosis of cardiomyopathy. When you were working the night shift and doing regular rounding checkups, she talked about her birthday plan to you.

“I want Princess Jasmine to attend my birthday party. Her hair is so long and shiny and pretty and, and she's pretty. She's also so smart. Mommy promised me she would come” the girl suddenly stopped. After a few seconds she opened her mouth again.

“She said she… she will come if I live… will I live? Doctor?”

You thought about the past as the attending announced her time of death. 23:44. 12th of May, 2015.

Two patients. Two patients. In one day.

Hiding from people, you hugged your knees in the corner of an empty hallway as you sobbed. God. People thought you were heartless. What other choice do you have when you have no choice but to leave your toxic mother who had no other motivation in life other than drinking, to build a better future for yourself. What other choice do you have when you were the best student in the school but had no money for college? Would you rather stay with your mom to take care of her all your life, doing everything that drives you insane or follow your dreams?

Unfortunately for you, your dream was not something you imagined. Burden, depression, exhaustion were the main 3 words you could use for this job.

Not to mention the creepy, flirty attendings. Always being underestimated by the men in the field.

After the long hard 24 hours and arguing with your mentor about your recent research about brain cancer, you took a box with your belongings.

Bitch

The old fat man fired you for standing up for yourself. Why would you allow anyone to take ideas from your paper? Especially if they were your teacher.

Fine. I'll find a better job in a better hospital.

After putting on your comfortable black coat and causing your boss to fire you for no actual good reason, you walked to your car with the box in your hand.

“Fuck” you yelled as you struggled to open the car door with the damn box in hand. In the reflection of the car window at midnight you saw a face behind you. Just as you were going to turn away, something was put around your nose and mouth and everything went black.

Leon grinned to himself as he carefully put the young woman in his jeep. Tonight was the new moon. There was almost no light in the parking lot and he was sure the cameras couldn't catch the glimpse of his face.

He observed her for a few weeks. First he got a little headache and decided to go to the hospital, only to find a little angel for himself.

Leon noticed she was quite unique compared to the women he met before. Even though he wouldn't say she's rude, she wasn't exactly nice either. He was sure he could fix her up nicely to become a sweet little wife for him.

His baby just needed some guidance in life. What would he be if he let go of this girl to become a rude old bitch. Instead she could help the community by giving Leon a family he wanted for the last few months too much.

Staring at his sweet pumpkin through the rear view window, he was planning what to do next. For the last week he had already planned what to do. But his bunny was in a worse condition than he thought. Overworked herself, dressed in sad gloomy clothes. He would strip her out of these and put her in comfortable , cotton pajamas.

And feed her. He knows what she eats in a day. Sad cold dark coffee with a tuna sandwich for breakfast. No lunch. Leftover pizza or burger for dinner. Leon will make sure she eats plenty of vegetables and homemade food that will nurture her.

During the night he changed her clothes to what he had bought for her.

“Just perfect” he muttered as the t-shirt he got fit her perfectly. Hugging her waist, making her breast more prominent. He held himself back from touching her cunt as he pulled down her pants, along with her underwear.

He sniffed her and inhaled deeply, taking in the scent. “I’ll show you how much I love you when you wake up honey. Not yet… Leon… gotta wait” he muttered to himself.

He put a little underwear on her and undressed himself. Crawling next to the love of his life, Leon put an alarm at 4am on his phone.

“The drug should be out by then,” Leon thought as he cuddled her.

After a few hours Leon was woken by clicking on the doorknob. His angel had woken up and was trying to open the door. Leon sneakily grabbed his phone and looked at the time. 3am.

The blonde signed and got up, causing his angel to scream and throw a vase on the shelf nearby at him.

“Get away from me, you freak!” you yelled, almost on the verge of crying making Leon's heart beat faster. He hated seeing you in pain.

“It's okay. It's okay, baby. Everything will be alright.” Leon cooed, getting up from the bed to her.

“Step away!” You screamed, throwing the left souvenirs on the shelf to him.

Leon walked in a few short big steps, in hurry and stopping you before you hurt yourself.

“It's okay my baby. Daddys here to take care of you. It's okay. Calm down. Everything will be okay.. no more work, no more ignoring yourself. It's okay..” Leon muttered trying to calm you down. He gripped your arms tightly above your head while kissing your head.

You squirm while sobbing, trying to kick him.

“What did I do to you?? Let me go.” You demanded squirming more, causing Leon to tighten his grip. Leon kept muttering to you his reassuring words while kissing your face all over when you managed to kick him in the crotch.

He let go of you and inhaled deeply, trying not to lash out on his dove on their 1st day as a couple.

“Y/n…. Honey… calm down…” he breathed out.

After a while of trying, Leon gave up. The constant cursing and screaming were giving him an awful headache, same as the ones he gets after missions.

“SHUT UP BITCH” he yelled at you, shaking your arms. Your eyes widened as you shut down, the room was quite apart from your sniffling and leons hard breathing.

“Please… just… let me go…” you sniffed out. You haven't felt this humiliated and weak since you were a little girl. Since your mother used to beat you after not cooking for her. Since you went against her words. Your childhood wasn't something you liked talking about, nor getting pity from strangers. You wanted nothing to do with the alcoholic bitch. When you were near her, you were a prisoner.

Ironic, now I'm a real prisoner

Leon breathed out and stared intensely. Suddenly he grabbed your waist, pulling you towards him before jumping on the bed. You protested, tried to bite his arm, kick him, scream, call for help, every way. Leon almost tore the piece of garments he put on her before.

“What are you doing?? Stop. No. Stop-” you protested, only for him to shut you up with a kiss.

After the first night, Leon felt guilty. Not because he made love to his lover when she was throwing a tantrum. But because of the way he lashed out on her. For the last few days she was avoiding him, sitting in corners, not eating or making any noise. After a while being a gentleman as he is, Leon decided to surprise his bunny.

“Honey. I'm home” Leon smiled, locking the doors securely. He hid a small box behind his back.

You crawled away from him, to the edge of the bed. Leon reached out his hand to pull your hair back.

“My beautiful baby. Did you miss me?” He grinned stupidly. You wanted to cry. But you didn't want to show him your weakness, especially after that night. Leon frowned as you pulled your head back.

“Look what daddy got you sweet girl. I know you overworked yourself so daddy got you vitamins.” He grinned as he showed the box.

You frowned seeing it. The multi vitamins that had fruit flavors.

“Don't you like it? Daddy got you this one specifically because the pharmacist told me a lot of trying women get it” Leon smiled, placing his hand on your thigh.

You snatched the vitamin to see what it has.

Vitamin D, B6, B12, Vitamin C, Vitamin A, B9

What the actual fuck

“Are you insane??” You yelled. Leon's eyebrows raised. You finally said a word to him after the event, but yelling at him? He can't be having his wife yelling at the breadwinner.

“Dove. Watch your mouth” Leon said calmly, but his grip tightened.

“All I ever wanted for you is happiness honey. We will have many children. Look around the bedroom honey. The outside. Can't you see we are more than available to raise children? You're young and beautiful. We can have children. For now, I'm worried you're short on essential vitamins. And I heard it could affect fertility” Soon his eyes narrowed as he understood it was necessary to take another way.

“I know what I did was… wrong… Maybe you would have wanted me to approach it in a traditional way. But I just couldn't wait for you. Plus… you already know you would have rejected my offer. You were too deep in hurting yourself. I'm helping you. I'm helping us. We're building a future. Together”

“You should go to therapy”

Leon narrowed his eyes again. “Sleep well angel. You're not clearly thinking well” he said, kissing the forehead before lying beside you.

During the night you tossed around. What if you could overdose on vitamins and just end this suffering? There was no one to look out for you. You got fired, the only family you have is an alcoholic that you cut contact with, and no real friends. You were alone in this.

[pascalssbabyy]

The Slip Up, Part Two

Pairing: Javier Peña x F!Virgin!Reader

Rating: 18+ Explicit MDNI

Word Count: 6.9k

Summary: The secrets out and Javier finally knows, but what you hadn’t expected was him to react the way he did. Two months had gone by since then, and you’re finally ready for Javier to take your virginity.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT mdni, age gap (25/40), both readers and Javiers POV, Javier is unbelievably soft in this, innocent reader, Javier talks you through it, blowjob, fingering, P in V, protected sex, virginity loss, Javier talks you through it, mentions of past f!oral, couch shenanigans, feelings (my gosh there’s so many feelings.)

Here we go! First off, thank you all for being so patient with me. I hope this lives up to people’s expectations and that you weren’t waiting too long! Please let me know what you all thought and I hope you love it!💕 Part 1

Also, huge shoutout to the lovely @schnarfer for reading through this for me and helping me with the final product! So thankful for you!🤍

To the lovelies who wanted to be tagged: @easystreet07 @softstarlite @joelscurlss

The past few months felt like a dream. A dream so vivid in picture and totally immersive. So sharp and in perfect vision. It was a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

Many times you had to remind yourself that the joy you noticed hadn’t been just a figment of your imagination. It wasn’t a fantasy or notions that you wished on. But that it was all real. No, he was real.

You were happy. This being the happiest you’d been in a long time. You could recognise a change in yourself immediately. You felt brighter in the early mornings, there were no thoughts that plagued you or interruptions while you slept, and when you would peer at yourself in the mirror your skin was glowing. A radiant glimmer and dimples deeply imprinted in your cheeks from the constant smiling.

Work was better and shifts weren’t as stressful. The crime in Columbia was at its lowest and the atmosphere around the office was smooth sailing. You had become more at ease with your tasks, but still remained vigilant in your role. There was no more overworking or giving yourself no time for the activities you enjoyed or missed doing. Instead, you concentrated on the things that made you feel better about life away from home.

And Javier Peña was a big factor in all this.

Two months. Two unimaginable months had gone by since that heated moment you and Javier shared in the filing room. You remember the nervousness when he looked at you, that rush of honesty leaving your lungs in apprehension, your heart pouring out into his open palms.

You waited with bated breath. Waited for the rejection that would crush you into nothingness and embarrassment. You had prepared for it. You’d gone through countless scenarios of how Javier would decline your affection. And as difficult as it was to admit, it was all your fault. You had taken things too far. An infatuation with desire and want for him had become so out of reach, and the jealousy was hard to disregard.

But to your surprise his refusal never came. Not one ounce of rejection appeared on his face. And fuck, what a beautiful face he had. Instead, he admired as you stood fearfully, his posture open and understanding.

On that day, he’d shared something else entirely.

You’d never forget that unforeseen consequence. Javier Peña, kissing you and on his knees, his warm, brown eyes firmly locked on yours and giving you the most intense and intimate orgasm of your life.

With buckled knees your body went rigid, electricity rippled through your veins and blinding specks of white obscured the sight of his face deep in your core. Javier’s mouth, fingers and reassurance had unveiled more than anything you ever envisioned.

Leaving that room with his touch gnawing at your skin, you realised that your relationship with Javier Peña would never be the same. No more wishful thinking or privately scanning him from afar. No, this time he yearned for your gaze, your bottom perched at your desk, the end of a pen skimming across your lips, staring at his mouth that had been on yours just moments ago. Now, you were the only one to know the distinct flavour of his tongue, that hint of bourbon and cigarettes being your new favourite addition. This wasn’t going to be a one-time occurrence. This was to become a pattern in your lives, a state of events what would leave to something greater.

It was just the two of you. Hidden glances and lingered touches kept secret as you walked past one another in the hallway, tinted and purplish bruises in the shape of his lips disguised under nude concealer on your neck or collarbone, creased clothing from being ruffled up and gripped when you’d both get an opportunity to be alone.

You finally had that glimpse of him, and fuck it was hard to go without.

Javier would have you at every given possibility. Whether it was late at night back in his office or once again, in the filing room, or when he’d sneak you into the bathroom when the both of you were on your breaks. Javier had pulled orgasm after orgasm from you, and you’d never get enough.

The drop of your skirt and underwear on carpet and tiled floors had become a routine, bare legs dangling over the edge of his desk, his lips hungry and feverish and colliding against your own, his large hands gripping the flesh of your inner thighs. He’d make you come with his mouth, lips sucking hard on your clit and fingers shoved deep into your walls as you’d reach your peak, cunt reaching its high all over his mouth, chin and fingers, his tongue lapping up every single drop.

It was all still so new, but it was beyond compelling. You wanted more. You were so desperate for more.

But with Javier, you had to learn to be patient, attention drifting back to the first time, his words being that constant reminder.

‘I’ll give it to you baby,’ he had promised, his face level with your own, ‘but not right now. Let me do this right, okay? Let me take my time with you.’

And that’s how it went. His warm mouth would trail over and across your naked legs, his moustache saturated with your release as it tickled your skin. You’d yank him up off his knees eventually with urgent hands, his lips puffy and eyes hazy and drunk, his body clearly aroused.

You’d peer down at the clear and evident bulge in his jeans, the denim so tight and restricting, fingers attempting to pull at his belt until…his own would stop you.

Not right now cariño. Next time.

You’d scream his name into the back of your hand, teeth marks indented into your skin, his tongue luring an orgasm from you as you’d muffle your praise in hopes of keeping quiet, to not get caught by friends or work colleagues.

You’d kiss him with intensity, cupping his hard cock and palming him with compressed pressure, his grunts landing on the surface of your tongue.

Not yet bebe, let’s wait a little longer.

Your mouths would find a lustful pace, arms wrapped around his neck and hips thrusting up into his erection.

So impatient. Don’t worry, you’ll have my cock soon.

Soon. It always ended with soon. But when would ‘soon’ be? The anticipation was growing in the pit of your stomach and so overwhelming you couldn’t keep up. You were ready, and that statement you knew to be true, and you couldn’t wait for Javier to take things to the next step.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Javier knew the moment you stepped into his office that very first time you’d be trouble.

He wasn’t too pleased with the idea of his boss offering him a secretary. Javier was very skilled at his job, and he was known around the DEA as one of the top agents in the Embassy. He didn’t need a secretary, someone who would slow him down, pulling his focus away from tasks and a simple distraction. However, Javier knew whatever excuse he’d pull out of the book to oppose, nothing would change the matter. Only to be told that it was ‘to take the smaller jobs off his back.’

It was bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit.

But what Javier didn’t expect was his secretary to be…well, you. Javier had been told before your arrival that you were more than capable in the role and had been doing so back in the US for a couple of years. Except, not one person had told him what you looked like, and it completely surprised him once he took a first glance at you.

You were young, your features delicate and big eyes that beamed with enthusiasm. Javiers first question was why you would involve yourself in a job with so much risk? But then, being so young and accepting a proposition as high as this, surely you must be good?

Javier couldn’t help but admire you. You looked so shy, body language held back and reserved and apprehensive. He couldn’t help his jeans tighten when you introduced yourself, your words quiet and innocent.

“Thank you, sir,” you’d mustered up. “I’m excited to be working alongside you.”

Javier had a certain reputation around the Embassy. Having his ways of getting the right women to talk, needing detailed information fast and efficiently. He never sought the approval of people he worked with, because he was well aware that they judged. Plus, he got a no-feelings-fuck out of it, so why should he be bothered about what they thought?

Javier had come close to you throughout your time at the Embassy, developing a firm and loyal friendship that deep down, Javier hadn’t had in a long time. From the first introduction, Javier did his best to welcome you to Bogotá with the same support he was given years ago, and he could see that you appreciated his hospitality massively.

But of course, being Javier, he had thought about you in ways a friend shouldn’t be thinking about another friend. And yet, how the fuck could he not? You were beautiful, a flicker of luminance in his ordinary life. Javier liked being around you, your presence emitting that emotion of being back home, it was familiar.

Javier could be his normal self with you.

Javier didn’t know that the shyness you possessed was hidden feelings. It’s not his fault of course, but it makes his chest ache with shame. The amount of times he’d clearly come into work after a night with a woman, the smell of their cheap perfume still lingering on his clothes, or being at the bar with you and walking away from the crowd with another under his arm. He fucking hates knowing how hard it must have been for you to see that, now knowing your feelings.

He questions your decision to stay quiet. Why didn’t you say anything? Or give him any indication as to what you truly wanted from him? Javier had no idea, and it hurts him knowing that you kept it secret from him for so long.

When you confessed your affection for him at the work party, that’s when Javier knew. The moment he heard those words out loud, he’d be delving into a fantasy that in the back of his mind, he truthfully longed for.

‘Well maybe it’s because I like you Javier. That every single time I look at you I wish you looked at me the same way. And even though I’ll never have you, it doesn’t stop me from wanting you as badly as I do right now.’

You avoided him the next day. Calls going straight to answer phone, feet skipping away when he was near, your apartment door glued shut when he’d irritably knock, praying that he’d finally see your face on the other end. You were embarrassed and ashamed of confessing it to him, and worse that it was helped with liquid courage. Javier made it his aim to get you to talk, to ease the tension that grew between you both.

He stares at you from his desk, fiddling with his unlit cigarette that hangs from his lips, his foot banging against the hard floor. Your head hangs low, the piles of paper he’d stacked on your desk held flushed to your chest, making your way into the filing room.

Fucking finally, Javier thinks.

He’s marching towards you before his mind can even comprehend it.

He listens to you talk, words shaky and jumbled and limbs quivering. He hears about how you expected him to reject you, and that he’d never be interested in a woman like you. Javier wasn’t a good man, and he wasn’t good enough for you.

You deserved better.

But when you stood there, telling him how highly you thought of him, that’s all he needed to break.

Your lips felt soft against his own, needy whimpers mixed in with his deprived grunts, pushing your back up against the shelf. How the fuck did it come to this? Suddenly, he can’t help it when his knees drop and hit the floor, or his hands pulling your skirt up. He can’t stop the tip of his tongue from moving closer to taste your sex, eating you out like a man starved until you’d come on his mouth.

And when you’d told him you were a virgin. He could’ve come in his pants right there and then. You’d never had anyone’s mouth on you, never had anyone’s fingers inside you other than your own, and when he’d made you orgasm for the first time, he’d promised himself he’d take his time with you.

All of that happened a couple months ago. And at every given chance, Javier needed to have your cunt on his mouth and fingers. Whether it was in his office late at night or back in the filing room, in the bathroom or even back at his apartment, he had to have you.

He never pushed you, never overwhelmingly you with stress as he knew you weren’t fully ready. He remembers his own words, I wanna take my time with you. And that’s exactly what Javier was going to do.

For Javier this wasn’t just lust or quick hookups when you both could get your hands on one another. No, he wouldn’t do that to you, this was much deeper.

And it fucking terrified him.

He wanted you, and he knew you wanted him just as much, hands dragging his zipper down to try and free his cock, limbs inching lower so you could sit on your knees, palms rubbing his length that was tight in his jeans.

Javier was hooked, you were a crave he had to soothe. When he would lie in bed, he’d still smell your body on his skin, even when he would furiously try to scrub it off in the shower. He fucked his fists every time he finished work, the taste of your arousal still on his tongue and moustache. He’d come in his hand so helplessly, envisioning you behind his eyelids, imagining the way he’d fuck himself inside your mouth and your pussy, covering your neck and breasts in his mark.

Javier was restless, and he was running out of patience with himself. He needed to have you, he’d go crazy if he had wait any longer.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Those two months of persistent seduction and lingering touches had led to now. All of the built up and pressure between the two of you falling into place, and with a firm grip and hurried movements, Javier ushers your body inside his apartment, his lips cemented on your own, breathless whimpers willingly pouring out of your mouth.

Your feet are forced backwards by his eager strides, and when the back of your thighs hit his sofa, your hands grasp onto his leather jacket.

“Javi…,” you moan, stealing more kisses with every word, “I want you now. Please, fuck me.”

Javiers groan is guttural, low within his throat and it causes your skin to shiver. He likes you like this, so desperate for something you’ve never indulged in, his cock thickens as he rubs against you.

Javier’s mind clouds with dizziness, his hold tender. He can’t seem to fathom that out of all people, he was the one you wanted. And soon, he was going to be the one to watch your eyes widen in surprise as your walls stretched around his length, slowly easing his cock further into you for the first time, waiting for the immediate pinch you’d feel from him, your walls welcoming something new, something euphoric.

“You sure hermosa?” he questions, his voice pained. Javier wants this as much as you do, but he asks you anyway, needing to make sure that you’re certain. “S’that what you want? You don’t wanna wait a little longer?”

You give him a smile. A smile that holds truth and a stare full of confidence and sureness. You’re tired of waiting. “Yes,” you breathe out, “yes, I’m sure. Please don’t make me to wait anymore.”

A devilish smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. “Come here cariño,” he assists, holding you closer and moving you to the front of the sofa, resting you down and lying his body on top of yours.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises, lips kissing the permanent blush on your cheeks, “you won’t have to worry about a thing. You just tell me how you wanna do this.”

He makes your heart flutter. You trusted Javier, more than anyone you’d ever known and here he was, being so honest and gentle with you.

There’s no one else you’d want to share this moment with.

He holds his frame light above you, almost feather like, both his palms lying flat at the sides of your head. You can feel a radiation of heat steaming off his body, and you want it closer.

You lift your mouth and kiss him, his tongue licking the insides of your mouth. His hands move down your body, knees digging into the mattress to keep himself steady.

This time wasn’t like the previous times you and Javier had shared. This time, Javier is taking a moderate and balanced pace to explore you and your body. He understands where you like to be touch and kissed, those spots that would have you calling out his name, his fingers gliding places he knew were sensitive.

“Can I see you querida?” he politely asks and you’re quick to oblige his request. He removes your top, hauling the material up and throwing it onto the floor, leaving you in a white bra. It’s nothing sexy, as you hadn’t expected to be here with him right now, but by the way Javier eyes you with a hungry gaze, he may be thinking something else completely.

You’re nervous, and it’s an emotion that’s difficult to disguise. Yes, Javier had seen most of you, but throughout everything he hadn’t removed any item of clothing above your waist. You were yet to fully show yourself to Javier, and it causes your anxiousness to pump loudly against your rib cage, ready to break through the fragile bone. It’s simply deafening.

His fingers follow your bra strap, arms wrapping under as you lift your back up, arching it off the sofa whilst he unhooks the clasp, fiddling with it for a couple seconds until finally, it comes loose.

Javiers eyes wonder down, his stare burning hot into your skin as he looks at your bare chest. Your nipples are already hard, caused by the cold air and the darkness of his pupils.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he says, knees moving down the sofa and bringing his mouth to your breasts. He swirls his tongue around your sensitive nub, flicking and pinching you with his lips and teeth. The gasp you release is high pitched, his tongue warm and sticky on your skin causing your eyes to roll back, fingers pulling on his hair and keeping his mouth locked in place.

Javier breaths heavily against you, his grunts wavering and your chest damp and fiery, sparkling that match inside your core.

Rutting your hips into his growing erection you plead out his name, the roughness of his jeans catching on your clothed clit.

You’re so close already, the friction on your pulsing core and Javier’s mouth leading you closer to lightening-like bliss. You need to feel his cock, squeezing your hand underneath his body and cupping him, his forehead resting on your shoulder, mewling at the touch.

“Please, Javi,” you beg, fingers clutching onto his hard erection, “I want you.”

His lips that were latched on your nipple leave his mouth with a light ‘pop’, his tongue poking out to lick his pinkish lips.

“What is it mi amor? Tell me, what is it you want exactly?”

Your gaze lowers to his jeans, realising how constricted they look. Unintentionally, your own mouth fills with saliva, a daring need to feel him on your tongue.

“I…I wanna make you feel good.”

“You are bebe,” he consoles, “you are. Just look at you, lying here looking all pretty for me.”

“Javier please,” you flush and tone hesitant, “it’s just…I—I wanna feel you in my mouth.”

A breath hitches in Javiers throat, your words hitting him right in his gut like a harsh punch and winding him. His cock pulsates and twitches in his boxers.

“Yeah?” he questions, “s’that right? You wanna suck my cock bebita?”

You pause. “I do,” you confess, forcing him back by his chest so he’s put in a seating position, his feet flat on the floor.

Moving yourself, you rest your knees on the carpet below, hands yanking at his belt buckle and loops, unbuttoning his jeans along with pulling down his zipper. The outline of his head is visible through his boxers and your voice stops halfway up your throat. He’s clearly hard and he looks thick, the grey colour of his boxers now a darker shade from the pre-come that drips from his tip, the spot glistening in the sheer light covering his apartment.

You’ve wanted to do this for him for so long. He deserves this. But what happens if you’re not good at it? Or worse, what happens if he doesn’t like it? This is a newly discovered experience, and you didn’t want to fuck it up.

You can’t recall the seconds that have passed, eyes just staring at him and his cock. Javier’s tone breaks through the anxiety.

“You don’t have to do this hermosa,” he says, the words soothing and thumb faintly stroking your hands, “y’remember what I said? That first time in the filing room?”

Of course you remember, how could you ever forget?

“So, you know this is all for you,” Javier states, “I wanna make you feel good, make sure you feel comfortable.”

“I know Javi,” you say, heart thumping at his kindness. And that’s why your fingers don’t stop, hands still tugging at the waistband of his boxers.

“I wanna do this. It’s just…I wanna make it pleasurable for you.”

“It will be querida, I promise,” Javier replies, smirking at your innocence, that fucking smirk of his. “Don’t you go shy on me. Go on, start off by taking these off.”

Fuck.

Javier lifts his hips up to help you, and with your digits hooked under his boxers, you drag them down his sun-kissed thighs.

His erection lands on his stomach, the tip of his cock a swollen red and wet. His pre-come covers the sides of his length and rests pretty on his tummy.

Your eyes bulge at the sight. Holy shit. He’s bigger than you had anticipated, veins travelling up the sides and the base of him covered in thick, dark, curly hair. Your pussy clenches around nothing, a heavy weight pooling on the surface of your tongue, you lick your lips.

Javier snarls, “Now look at that pretty girl,” he teases, sliding his thumb across your parted mouth. “Already so desperate to have my cock fill your mouth, aren’t you.”

“Yes…,” the confession plummeting out of you, “Javi, tell me what—“

“I will hermosa,” he kindly interrupts before your apprehension gets the better of you. “Don’t be so nervous, do just what I say, okay? M’here to help you.”

You needed that, a gulp of thickened air you swallowed and had been holding onto was suddenly being released from your lungs, less suffocating.

Your hands dance at the top of his thighs, fingers inching closer to the coarse hairs that scattered his pubic region. You stop, movements still, waiting for his instructions.

“Take me in your hands cariño,” he teaches, his palms resting flat on the sofa either side of him, “just lick the tip for now, get me nice and wet.”

You take him in your hand, like he asked, your tongue poking out of your mouth and moving closer, hovering over his tip. Cautiously, you lick the slit, collecting the salty liquid. It surprises you, but you quite like the taste. That saltiness mixed with Javiers own flavour. It makes you want more, and this time you eagerly swirl your tongue around the head, adding more pressure as you do so.

“M’fuck,” Javier groans, his head dropping back onto the sofa, fingers finding a place on your scalp, threading his digits through your hair, “that’s it honey, keep doing just that.”

Your tongue was so hesitant at first, doe eyes beaming up at his features. With each lick you reverse every furrowed brow, the pull of his bottom lip and the grunts that slip from his mouth. He moans out loud at a certain swipe of your tongue across his seam, so you repeat the motion, over and over and over again.

“You look so pretty bebe,” he grunts, “fuckin’ made to suck my cock weren’t you. Keep kissing it hermosa, feels real nice.”

Javiers praises make you bold, circling your tongue round more confidently and dropping your mouth on him, the whole head of his cock filling the inside of your mouth.

You do that for a while, hand kept still as you hold him at the base, your tongue doing all the work.

“Fuck, that’s a good girl,” Javier murmurs, “you can—shit, you can take more of me in your mouth, if you’re comfortable.”

Just as you’re about to lower your mouth, Javier cups your cheek, his voice breaking, “remember to breathe through your nose bella, it’ll relax your throat. And don’t take more than you can’t handle okay? You can use your hand to help.”

You inch his cock further into your mouth, remembering to slowly inhale and exhale through your nose to ease your throat. His length glides through your mouth and you hollow your cheeks around him, using your hand with the rest of his cock you can’t fit inside.

With each rise and fall of your lips you take more of him, sliding his length further down your throat, but not so far that it’ll cause you to gag. The filthy sound of your slurping spreads through his apartment. It becomes smutty and loud and Javier sighs above you, his hold on your head now much firmer and you moan around his length.

You peer up at him and he looks wrecked. His own mouth is parted, his forehead covered in a glittery sheen of sweat, his chest rising and stomach tight. Your heart fills with pride, you love how your mouth’s pulling him into that state of pleasure.

The vibrations around Javier’s cock causes him to subconsciously buck his hips up, the tip of his cock instantaneously hitting the back of your throat and causing you gag and cough around him.

His eyes widen in shock, “fuck hermosa—,” Javier yelps, hands pulling you back as his cock leaves your mouth in a crude gasp. A line of saliva trails from his tip to your bottom lip, his whole length saturated and drenched, and Javier could come just from that sight alone.

“Shit, you okay cariño?”

You can’t help but cough and your eyes start to tear up, an overcast of blurred vision.

“Yes Javi,” you cough out, your voice laboured. “You didn’t hurt me, I’m okay.”

You gaze at his cock, lying damp and stiff in the palm your hand. You enjoyed having him in your mouth, and by the way you can feel your wetness seep through your underwear, it’s clearly evident.

“I really liked doing that,” you blurt out.

“Yeah?” Javier chuckles, “that’s good cariño. You did so well, felt fucking incredible.”

You’d blush if your cheeks weren’t already red. You wipe the remains of your saliva off your chin with the back of your palm.

“That’s enough for now, cosa linda,” Javier says, “come ‘ere.”

His lips are back on yours, shocked that he doesn’t seem bothered that you’d just had your mouth on him. His kisses move across your face, nipping at your ear and moving lower to your neck. Your eyes flutter shut and you allow him more access, fingers clinging onto the back of his jacket.

“Fuck I can’t wait to be inside this pussy bella,” he confesses, sucking and biting your skin, “thought about this for so long. You have no idea how many times I’ve fucked my hand thinking it was your pussy wrapped around me.”

Fuck you want him right now. “I need it Javi. Need you. Please, take me to bed.”

He’s quick to lift you up into your wobbly legs, shifting his arm under your knees and carrying you up to his bedroom.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Javier’s on his knees and your calves touch the end of his bed, hands resting atop his shoulders to keep you upright. His hands slide up your legs, fingers fiddling with the button and zipper on your trousers, his digits tugging until the material pools at your ankles.

He helps you remove them without hurry, his stare fixed in your face as you watch his with a hooded gaze, lustful.

There’s no worries or no interruptions, just a small, compact space full of admiration.

His moustache drifts over your skin and tickles your bare thighs, goosebumps rising with each swipe of his lips. He kisses your hipbone, his mouth a distraction as his fingers slide your underwear down.

“So fucking beautiful like this hermosa,” he says truthfully, a clear devotion heard in his words.

“Go and lie down for me, get comfortable mi amor.”

Your back lands onto his neatly made covers. Your spine shivers from the coldness, his quilt soft and swallowing you further into the mattress.

You’ve never entered Javiers bedroom before. His room’s barely lit, the blinds wide and keeping the sun out that’s just about to set. The walls are painted with a dark cream colour and his decor is minimalistic. A wardrobe in the corner, a desk, a small bedside table sitting next to his double bed. You like it, it seems well known and cosy, it matches Javier perfectly.

You lie on full display, body exposed and frozen with suspense. “Javi,” you whisper, his name coming out velvety and sweet, limbs reaching out to him.

“I know cariño, I know,” he hushes, removing the rest of his clothes, his thick muscles tensing in his arms once he unbuttons his white shirt.

“Fuck,” the word comes out before you can even register what you’ve just said. You think Javier must have heard it too, but your mind’s too busy in appreciating his physique to care.

He’s so beautiful.

You clench your thighs together. You already know that you’re soaked for him, your pussy wet and folds messy and dripping onto the cover below.

“You want me to fuck this pussy princesa?” he teases you, hand fisting his hard cock and giving it a few tugs, “you gonna tell me how bad you’ve wanted this?”

You moan, the view in front overwhelming. Your chest lifts and falls, back arching off the mattress and eager for his touch, “I do Javi. Want you so bad.”

He crawls up to you on his hands and knees, his cock hanging hard and long in between his legs. He looks down at your form and parts your legs with both hands, nestling his body on top of you. You can feel his length on the inside of your thighs.

He brushes your hair off your face with the gentlest of touches, moving the strands behind your ears.

“You really are something querida, delicioso.”

His mouths latches on your breasts again, licking his tongue around the flesh and sucking your nipple. You whine at the sensation, your breasts already sensitive to his mouth and hands.

“Fuck, Javi,” You sigh, “that feels…”

“Tell me,” He ushers, his big, brown eyes looking up at you as he continues his assault.

“Good. So fucking good,” you moan.

His hands follow a path and meet their place in between your legs, fingers parting and rubbing your wetness through your folds.

You gasp, hand wrapping around his wrists, “please. Javi, I don’t—“

“What is it hermosa?” he asks, stopping his motions, “what don’t you want? I thought—”

“—No Javi, it’s not that. I’m—I’m ready please,” you babble out impatiently, “just…I want you inside me.”

“Necesitada,” Javier snickers, “I gotta prepare you cariño. Let me open you up first, gonna make sure you’re ready for me. Promise you’ll have me soon.”

Taking two of his fingers, Javier pushes them past your opening, scissoring and curving them upwards in a ‘come hither’ motion. You cry at the feeling, your walls making room and preparing for his size.

“So warm on my fingers bebe,” he seduces, “and so fucking wet. Gonna glide so easily in your pussy mi amor. You think you’re ready for me?”

With your breathing erratic, you nod at him, “yes, Javi, please.”

He removes his fingers from you, shifting his weight and pulling the drawer out on his bedside table and reaching for a pack of condoms. You gaze at him as his fingers slide it onto his length, and when it’s done and secure, he leans back over you.

He kisses you, the weight of him sweltering. He presses his chest up to yours and rests on his forearm, his other hand grips his cock and rubs it through your folds.

You pant against his mouth avidly, the tip of his cock teasing your entrance and smearing against your clit, your pussy fluttering as you wait.

Fuck, this is it.

“I’ll go slow,” he promises, his tone quiet, “anytime you feel uncomfortable, I want you to say, okay? Need you to talk to me while I do this.”

Gently, he prods his tip at your opening, eyes averted to your face as he slowly and carefully eases his tip inside you, his hand rubbing tender circles on your hip.

You show no sign of discomfort. “Alright? I’m gonna push—“

“Fuck Javi, please. Please just do it.”

“A needy little thing aren’t you querida,” Javier grins, pressing more of his length deeper inside your walls. He grits his teeth hard, forehead nesting in the crevice of your neck.

“Shit sweetheart—,” he winces, his eyebrows furrowing in, “fuck you’re so goddamn tight.”

Aiming to slow your breathing, you open your legs wider as you feel his girth stretch you open, his groin moving forward. It hurts there is no denying it, it’s an unpleasant sting, but not so painful that you’d tell him to stop.

Your eyes clamp shut, fingernails digging into his shoulder as you hiss, feeling a burn in the centre of your core.

“Hermosa,” Javier murmurs, keeping himself still, “open your eyes. Keep them on me bebita. Y’want me to stop?”

“No Javi, don’t.” You really don’t want him to stop. “I’m fine, jus’…please, kiss me.”

He kisses you tenderly, humming into your mouth. With every part of him sliding inside you, your body starts to relax, and that initial prick gradually eases away. It still rather uncomfortable, but you know once he begins to move, it’ll get better.

Once he fully sheaths himself to the brim, he halts his movements, giving you time to adjust to him.

“There you go,” Javier worships, his words slow and dragged out. “The worst parts over now bebe. Y’doing so well. That’s it, relajarse.”

You both breathe in-sync, his breath easing your muscles and calming.

His legs shudder, a crinkled line indented in between his brows. Every inch of willpower is forcing him not to thrust up into you and fuck you hard, but he can’t do that to you, knowing that he’s already difficult to accommodate to.

Your next words are a fucking blessing.

“You can move Javi, please move.”

Javier draws his hips back and pushes forward. There’s a sudden emptiness you feel, until he thrusts his whole length into you again. You whimper out to him, his mouth hanging over yours as he grunts into your open mouth.

You can’t describe the way it feels, the way he feels. He’s so deep, he cock makes you core hot and butterflies flitter in your lower stomach.

“Fuck, talk to me querida,” Javier pleads breathlessly, “tell me how you’re feeling.”

Javiers thrusts are long but slow, and with each push the pleasure expands and courses through you. “Feels good now javi,” you breathe out, “it feels— fuck!“

Javier hand had curved under your ass and lifted it off the bed, the new angle causing the tip of his cock to hit your g-spot. You immediately wrap your legs around his lower back, keeping him as close as possible.

He laughs, adoring your reaction, “yeah? Right there?” he asks as he hurries his pace and you shout, his cock bringing your orgasm round fast.

“Yes, fuck r-right there,” you weep. “Oh my god Ja-avi.”

“Shit this pussy feels so fucking good,” he moans loudly, his tongue licking up your chin and sucking on your bottom lip.

“You’re mine now princesa,” he claims, “no one gets to feel this pussy apart from me.”

He picks up even more speed, fucking into your cunt hard and fast. He grips your jaw and cheeks tight, constraining you, so you have to stare at his face.

“You’re mine,” Javier growls, “shit—bebe, tell me who you belong to.”

You can feel that knot in your centre tighten, your walls pulsing and twitching all over his length, you grip onto his shoulders.

“Y-you Javi,” you stutter, “fuck I belong to you. Always yours, please.”

His hand moves and the tips of his fingers circle your clit. You’re close, so fucking close and with that added pressure of his fingers, it’ll tip you over the edge.

“Oh my, Javi I’m gonna—“

“Y’gonna come?” he says, quickening the swirls on your bundle of nerves, “fuck querida go on, come on my cock, that’s it.”

The tip of your fingers dig into him as your orgasm crashes over you, your stomach twisting and thighs tightening against him. It feels fucking incredible, his cock hitting your precious spot relentlessly and prolonging that feeling of ecstasy flourishing through your skin.

“Buena niña,” Javier praises, his hips never ceasing as he chases his own high. Your walls constrict, pussy drenching his cock with more of your release.

“M’gonna come,” Javier warns, his movements faltering and body slumping. With one last forceful push, Javiers orgasm ripples through him, moaning out a string of curse words as he fills the condom with his come.

“Fuck me,” he chokes and praises your name, his breathing fast as his arms wrap under you, keeping himself shielded inside you.

Your trace patterns on his dampened back, feeling the lively pace of his heart, the rhythm heard in your eardrums.

A couple minutes go by like this, and once Javier gathers the energy, he slides his weight off you and rests beside you.

Javier’s the first to talk. “You alright cariño? How was it? Wasn’t too rough with you was I?”

You smile, hands rubbing his scalp and digits lacing through his messy hair, “No Javi, you weren’t. It was perfect.”

He nudges your nose with his own, hoisting himself off the bed and walking towards the bathroom. He freshens you up, covering your body with his bed sheet to keep you warm and once he’s finished that, he lies next to you.

“Thank you, Javi,” you say after a moments silence, staring up at his ceiling. He looks at you confused.

“I just wanted—,” you sigh, a sudden shyness mixed in with your voice, “you’ve been really good to me. And so patient, I appreciate it so much.”

“Y’don’t have to thank me querida. If anyone should be saying thank you, it’s me.”

Your eyebrows droop, ready to question him but this time, Javier’s quick to reply.

“You trusted me with something personal,” he says quietly, “got me thinking about how important you are to me.”

Your heart rapidly beats at his words, swallowing down the lump you can feel in your throat.

“You already know that, don’t you. You’re pretty much the only thing that gets me through days when shit gets tough.”

Your face rests on his chest, giving it a quick peck, “You’re important to me too Javi. And this may be a stupid question but…I’m hoping this isn’t just a one-time thing?”

Fuck, please say no.

He looks down at you through his eyelashes, a mumbled chuckle petting your cheek. He smirks at you.

“Oh, definitely not a one-time thing mi amor.” You gulp. “You have no idea what else I’ve got planned for you. You’ve got so much to learn.”

Swiftly, he fits in between your legs again and you wheeze in shock. His face holds a mocking expression, and you laugh.

He rubs the end of his finger over your lip, watching with seduction as you lick the tip. He pushes forward and you take his digit into your mouth and moan.

“Fucking hell, you have no idea what you’re getting yourself into querida,” he says almost like a warning, “you’re playing a very dangerous game y’know that?”

You don’t. But that’s what makes it exciting.

“Then show me.”

His finger leaves your mouth as he hums. “Rest first cariño,” he says, kissing your lips. Javier turns off the light on his bedside table and hugs you from behind. His breathing tickles the back of your neck, and before you can say goodnight, you fall into one of the best and quickest sleeps you’ve ever had.

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

[storiesfromafan]

Rumours - Buck x Reader

A/N: okay, this is my first attempt at good old Gale 'Buck' Cleven, so please be nice 😅 And I am sorry in advance if its not that good haha.

Warnings: angst, possible grammer and spelling mistakes

Prompt: “You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you”

Tag list: @strayrockette

When you signed up to be a nurse during the war, you had been scared of what you would see. And see you did. Many times you questioned why you did it. But meeting both Buck and Bucky, you understood why. They were funny and sweet guys. Buck the more level headed one, while Bucky was a wild card. You never know what he would do. You did what you did for them, and men like them. They needed someone that was like home while doing what they did and through this war.

They took you into their circle. Making it hard to say no to their company, which you were grateful for after a long day after being on stand by, as those injured came in for treatment. The hurt and broken men you saw, it was heartbreaking and soul crushing. Yet you did your job. Helping Doctors and tending to those in recovery.

Over time you found yourself having a silly crush on Major Cleven. And when it turned to something more – love – you thought yourself foolish. He had a sweetheart back home, waiting for him patiently. So you put those feelings away, in a box which you locked and hid the key.

Unfortunately, a few of the other nurses, ones who you think fancied Bucky more than Buck, had it out for you. For rumours started to make the rounds about you and your affections. The way eyes would watch you as you entered a room. Silence falling between those that had clearly been conversing before your arrival. And then when you heard what they were saying, it hurt. It hurt because these people, whom you thought highly of, had tarnished your reputation.

“She's trying to steal another woman’s man, how shameless".

“I heard she's thrown herself at Major Cleven and Major Egan. It's why she's always with them".

“I always thought she had no morals. She’s always too friendly with the Doctors".

That was just some of the stuff you'd heard. So you took to distancing yourself from everyone. Only being present during your shifts, meetings or at meals. Otherwise you were in your quarters, walking around the base or going into town. It was lonely being separate from everyone. But you didn’t want to stir any new gossip.

Currently you were taking a walk around the base, enjoying the nice weather. You had been over worked the last few days, having a moment like this was just what you needed. In the distance you could hear the air crafts being worked on. But other then that, it was quiet. A contrast to back home and where you lived.

If only your peace was to last. Coming up behind you, as you were looking off into the vast open area and the blue sky, was Buck. He looked worried as he studied you. It felt like forever since he had spoken to you. He was concerned about you and how you were taking the rumours going around base. Ones which he and Bucky had been working to clear up.

You heard the rustle of grass from moving feet. But you remained where you were, waiting to know who it was. You had a fifty-fifty chance on knowing who it was, though you hoped it was Bucky.

“Hey" came Buck's soft voice. And squashing your hopes on Major Egan.

“Hi" you replied, still not turning around.

There was a moment of silence between you both. You hoping he wasn’t here to talk about what people were saying. While Buck was trying to think of how to say what he was thinking. He wanted you to know he didn't believe what was being said, that he knew you were a nice and good woman who didn't deserve this slander.

“Look, about what I've heard” Buck began, making you stiffen. “I don't believe what anyone has been saying, you know that right? You're not that kind of woman".

You nodded your head slowly. “W-what have you heard?” You asked, not entirely wanting to hear his answer.

Placing his hands on his hips, Buck looked down, unsure if he should answer your question. “Let's just say what I heard, I didn't like. And both myself and Bucky have been doing our best to shut it all down".

That was when you turned around, a sad but thankful smile on your face. Seeing your face and how worn out you look, it pulled at Buck's heartstrings. He could see you were tired, but that was due to the busy last few days. But also he could see the toll how this whole rumour thing was taking on you. When you distanced yourself, it broke his and Bucky's hearts.

They had come to enjoy your company, and your spirit. The three of you always finding something to talk about or laugh at, though it was usually at Bucky's antics. He never understood how women could be so catty. But in some cases, men are just as bad.

“Everything will be alright" Buck said, looking you in the eye. “Give it a few days and it should start to go back to how it was...”

You frowned. “I'm afraid the damage is done Buck. Even if people aren't saying it, they'll be thinking it. I'll be surprised if I don't get pulled in for a meeting over it...”

“Bucky and I will stand up for you".

“That might not be a good idea. It may only make it worse" your voice weary, eyes falling to the ground.

“But none of its true, right?” He questioned, hoping he sounded worried and not accusing.

You should have said no right away, though it might have given him the wrong idea. But the prolonged silence didn't help either. You avoided his eyes as Buck tried to meet them. You turned away from him and wrapped your arms around yourself.

“(Y/N), none of its true...?” Buck repeated himself, now with worry.

You sighed. “No...except for one thing...”

Buck moved closer to you. “What is true? You have to tell me so I, Bucky and I can help".

Thinking he was going to place a hand on your shoulder, you flinched, taking a few steps back. “I-it's embarrassing...and childish...”

Buck remained silent, urging you with his eyes to go on.

You sighed. “I-it's my feelings...for you" you ended on a whisper.

But Buck still heard it. He had heard how some women had gossiped about you being in love with him. And he had found it ridiculous. You were friends, that was it. So he had thought. But now, from your admission, those women had been right. Which didn't help the unease he was feeling over it all. He felt angry that they had spread your true feelings. Feelings you had kept to yourself, never acting on. Unlike some women he had seen. They were more shameless then you.

“I see...” he stated, voice calm and gentle.

“Yes...now you know how silly I am" you started, feeling tears rise in your eyes. “How silly I am to be in love with you. When I know I shouldn't".

“It's alright" Buck said reassuringly. “It happens...”

Those words hurt, like a slap to the face. Like he was trying to play it off, or sweep it under a rug. Like it didn't matter. Well it didn't, but some kind of assurance would have been nice. But in stead, Buck was keeping you at arms length over it. And it sparked different emotions in you; anger, frustration, hurt and sadness.

“You think I wanted this to happen? You think I, of all people, wanted to fall in love with you” you said with a strained voice. Tears in your eyes, which you were managing to hold back for now.

The look on Buck's face was like pity, how his eyes looked guilty and in despair. “(Y/N)...” his voice soft and weary.

“No Buck, don't" you held up a hand. “I don’t, can't hear it". A tear escaped and ran down your cheek. “I don't want to hear your kind words, as you let me down...I know you have Marge. And I shouldn't have let myself get carried away with being around you and Bucky. But you were both nice to me, the company that I needed. Yet I let my feelings get away from me...”

You dropped your hand, your shoulders slouching slightly as you looked down. Unable to face the gorgeous Major who'd stolen your heart. From the dashing smile, to his warm heart dancing with Meatball, and everything in between. Major Gale Cleven was the man of your dreams, but he belonged to another. A woman that Buck spoke fondly of on the nights when you had to bunker down as bombs went off near by. A woman that made you feel less than in just about every way, except being a nurse during the war.

“Marge is a lucky woman...” you stated with a small laugh. “You're lucky to have a woman like her waiting for you back home...no doubt you'll both be happy" you voice dropping at the end.

It was silent after that. You having said your piece, something that shouldn’t have been aired out, if it wasn’t for the other nurses. Buck was quiet because he was processing your words. Which struck a cord in him. And dare he say that he felt for you. Over this time together, bonded in the worst way, he had grown closer to you. He sort out your company and spirit, especially after returning from a mission that was tough. He revelled in your sunshine. Seeing you like this hurt his heart.

Neither knew what to say after all that. Buck had opened his mouth and closed it a few times. Hoping when he would go to speak the words would come to him, but there was nothing. He should have agreed with you, and said he appreciated your affections. But he couldn't. Because a small part of him liked this, and wanted it from you. And even a part of him at one point had entertained the idea of you.

But he let it be just that, a thought. He had a girl back home waiting, a sweet thing who wrote him letters and cared. Could he really lose that? Or juggle both? No, he wasn't that kind of guy. Yet Buck had feelings for you, that weren't entirely friendly.

“F-forget this ever happened Buck...” you said softly, so softly that Buck wondered if you spoke at all.

And with that, you took your leave. Heading back to your room. Back to solitude and your thoughts. It wasn't great, but its all you had till either people stopped being asses. Or the war was over. Which ever happened first.

[pennyold]

Our little secret | c.c

Summary: after a long time holding those feelings, would you be able to resist when you are needy for your stepdaddy?

Warnings: stepdad!carlisle, corruption, manipulation, size kink, dirty talk, stepcest, p in v, cheating.

a/n: Peter is so hot, more in the Twilight Saga, and I have a serious kink w the stepdad thing, I’m into it, so maybe you would see the same theme in other actors I will post !! Enjoy !! and no proofreading, I wrote this a long time ago, if you see any mistakes, I'm sorry; my bad. Also, I'm back in college, so I lost my ideas for a new fic or blurbs, so if you have a request, leave it in my inbox!!

w.c: 1,046

main masterlist ↲

peace and love, penny ★

Midnight arrived, and you were writhing in bed, the tingling in your groin wouldn't let you be so wet in your panties, a total disaster. Your parents weren't home; your mom was out of the country, traveling, and your stepdad was working at the hospital as usual. It was the perfect time to touch yourself, but you couldn't. You desperately need more than that. Taking your blanket, you go down to the living room; you need a distraction. As you turn on the television, the front door opens, and you hear heavy footsteps; it's Carlisle. "I'm home," he says, entering the kitchen. "I'm here." After that mention, he appears behind the sofa, taking off his long black coat. "Are you awake?" he smiled. "And you so early?" he laughed. Normally, Carlisle would arrive home in the early morning after his long shift, but this time he arrived earlier. "It was quiet; there aren't many patients at this hour." It's Christmas Eve, and although doctors don't have vacations between shifts, some volunteers choose to stay longer than the scheduled shift. That's how it works at the hospital where Carlisle works.

"Do you want to sit down?" you said, choosing a movie, he agreed, sitting right next to you. You covered your small body with the blanket, you were wearing a somewhat inappropriate pajama. After a while, your hair fell over Carlisle's shoulder, sleep was overtaking you. "Can I cuddle with you?" you said, shyly but with a soft tone, you needed to be hugged even if just for a moment. "Of course, princess," that word makes you burst, he is so sweet with you, always caring and interesting, Carlisle is the perfect stepfather. The one everyone wants to have, but only you can have. 

You started to feel that heat in your stomach and groin again, with your heavy breathing and spasmodic movements, Carlisle noticed it. "Are you okay, princess?" His face showed concern, but also curiosity about the prominent heat you were producing. So hot. "Mmh," you said, and it almost sounded like a guttural moan you were suppressing.

He grabbed you by the chin while inspecting you closely. "Are you sure? You're sweaty and..." you interrupted him by kissing his lips. He stepped back, furrowing his brows, "What are you...?" you kissed him again in a messy and unkempt manner, and he followed your lead, gripping your jaw, demanding control. You moan, touching his chest, trying to unbutton his shirt. "Wait..." he says, stepping back again; his lips were swollen from the desperate kiss, pink and with ragged breathing. "We shouldn't be doing this." He grabbed his hair, resting his elbows on his knees, worried about what had happened.

He was cheating on his wife with his daughter, that's horrible, he thinks. "Carlisle... I need your help," you said, trying to convince him. Touching him gently on the shoulder, massaging him. "Jesus Christ..." he looked at you. You could feel some lust in him, you have aroused him. "I know you need it too," you kiss his neck dangerously, "you always help me..." You brush your lips against his ear, making him shiver, "Could you help me and take away this feeling?" While maintaining eye contact with him, you took off your silk shirt, leaving your chest exposed, your erect nipples screaming for attention, wanting to be touched and pinched. "I'm so horny, please," you plead, rubbing your breasts against his chest to kiss him. He hissed, grabbing your hair with his fist and pushing your lips against his, starting a session of kisses and touching your needy nipples, pinching them. "Mmh, yes, like that..." you moan, feeling the thrill from the pleasure and pain of his firm grip around your hair.

He let you go, taking you to his bedroom that he shares with your mother. He slammed the door shut, still holding you, and laid you on the bed while unbuttoning his shirt. "Take off your pajamas," he demanded, and you obeyed, doing it slowly. Now you are only wearing a tiny lingerie thong. "Take them off yourself" I nodded, biting my lower lip. "I need you to talk, darling, scream, and cry as much as you want." Before taking off his boxers, he grabbed a condom from his nightstand. "Ready, princess?" Carlisle was as excited as you, his cock ready to fuck you, hard and big. Slowly, he introduced the tip into your pussy, making you moan, he hissed, penetrating you slowly and deliciously. 

Your gummy walls welcome him eagerly, squeezing his size. He moaned again, saying some illegible words. He fucks you slowly, you were melting in his arms. You screamed his name and scratched his back with your long nails, "Oh god... so big," you moan loudly, echoing in the room. "I love those pretty sounds, princess." Carlisle kisses you, devouring your mouth. "Keep doing it" You hug him by the neck and open your mouth, letting him put his tongue in, you suck and kiss, enjoying his taste "I'm going to cum," he whispered with labored breathing "Me too, so do it faster." and he did it.

Your legs began to tremble, dripping with the juices that flowed from your tight and small pussy, his cum was expelled from his dick and ended up in the condom. Carlisle thrusts into you once more before pulling out, and as he withdraws his cock, you notice the shine on the condom from your juices. "That was so good," you exhale, "We're not done yet, princess." You lean on your elbows on the mattress, looking at him. "What…?" You say incredulously, if you felt it was too much, imagine it again. "So, turn around with your ass up," you obey, exposing your big ass, you feel him lean against your back, coming closer to your ear, "I thought you liked being my dirty little secret," he smiled, touching your hips and you nodded, "Yes, it excites me just thinking about it." he teased, moving you back close to his pelvis "That's right, princess" after that; Carlisle fucked you like a rag doll, making you scream, moan with pleasure and pain, but you liked it, of course, you did, it was what you wanted, right? Being fucked like the good whore you are.

divider: @/enchanthings-a

[shrewsburysworld]

Twisted Hearts | Jeon Jungkook | part 4

Y'all I am changing name of yandere popular guy Jungkook because the story is gonna get more twisted :)

Warning :- mature content, dark themes, dubious, non-consensual elements, delusional behaviour, Stockholm syndrome, physical and emotional elements, obsession and toxic relationship. The behaviour of characters is not something to emulate.

Summary :- Jungkook forces you into a twisted marriage, sparking a dangerous, obsessive love. As your resentment turns into dominance, you both become trapped in a dark, toxic relationship where love and control blur into one.

*This is my original work do not copyright ©*

---

The cold walls of the mansion felt like they were closing in on you. Days blurred together as you tried to find a way out, a way to escape Jungkook's relentless obsession. But every attempt was met with a dead end. He was always one step ahead, his influence and power keeping you in place.

Jungkook’s presence was constant—overwhelming. He would check on you, bring you meals, and sit with you in silence, his eyes never leaving your face. At first, you refused to speak to him, hoping that if you ignored him long enough, he would let you go. But Jungkook was patient, disturbingly so.

One evening, after what felt like weeks of silence, you finally broke. “Why are you doing this?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

Jungkook looked at you, his expression a mix of pain and determination. “Because I love you. I can’t live without you. You’re the only one who ever cared for me. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “This isn’t love, Jungkook. It’s madness. You can’t force someone to love you.”

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the marble floor. “You don’t understand now, but you will,” he said, his voice hardening. “I’ll make you see that we belong together.”

As the days passed, Jungkook’s methods grew more drastic. He cut off all your communication with the outside world—no phone, no internet. You were completely isolated, with only him for company. Whenever you resisted or tried to argue, he would lock you in your room for hours, sometimes days, until you were too exhausted to fight back.

One night, you tried to escape. You waited until he was asleep, then quietly slipped out of bed and made your way to the front door. But as soon as you touched the doorknob, the alarms went off. Within seconds, Jungkook was there, his face a mask of anger and hurt.

“You’re trying to leave me again?” he demanded, grabbing your wrist with bruising force. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

You winced, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened. “I just want to be free, Jungkook,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “Please, let me go.”

“Never,” he hissed. “You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”

He dragged you back to the bedroom, his mood swinging between anger and desperation. “Why can’t you just love me?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “What do I have to do to make you stay? Please tell me, yn! Why can't you see my efforts. Am I that unlovable?!” Jungkook said weeping to you. Ofcourse you were there when he was on the ground surrounded by nothing but his own misery. The popular guy who had no one to turn back to when he needed help.

In that moment, something in you shifted. The fear and anger that had been consuming you began to morph into something else—something darker. You were trapped, completely at his mercy. And yet, a small part of you began to understand his desperation. He was lonely, broken in a way that mirrored your own emptiness. And as much as you hated to admit it, you began to feel a twisted connection to him.

The days continued to pass, but your resistance started to fade. You stopped trying to escape, stopped arguing. Instead, you began to talk to him, really talk. Jungkook noticed the change immediately. His touches became softer, his voice gentler. He started to open up to you, sharing stories from his childhood, his fears, and his insecurities.

One evening, after a particularly vulnerable conversation, he reached out and took your hand. “You’re the only one who understands me,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw past the obsession and the madness. You saw a man who was deeply, irreparably damaged—someone who had been failed by everyone around him. And in that moment, you felt something shift inside you again.

“I’m here, Jungkook,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust what he was hearing. “You… you mean that?”

You nodded, a small, resigned smile playing on your lips. “Yes, I do.”

From that night on, something between you changed. Jungkook was no longer just your captor; he became your protector, your only source of comfort in a world that had shrunk down to the walls of his mansion. You began to rely on him, crave his presence. And slowly, the lines between love and captivity blurred.

Jungkook noticed the change in you, and it only fueled his obsession. He showered you with gifts, whispered sweet words in your ear, and held you close every night, as if afraid you might disappear.

One night, as you lay in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, you turned to face him. “Jungkook,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.

“I… I think I like you,” you admitted, the words tasting foreign on your tongue.

His eyes widened, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears welling up. “You like me?” he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief and joy.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, I do.”

He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck. “I knew you would,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew you’d see that we’re meant to be together.”

As he held you, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. The fear, the anger, the resentment—they all melted away, replaced by a deep, abiding connection to the man who had once been your captor. You were no longer trapped—you were his, and in some twisted way, that was exactly where you wanted to be.

---

If you liked the story, do comment and reblog 🫶

Need smut in the next part??!

Twisted Hearts master list.

[janitorhutcherson]

bedtime with mike and abby ( mike schmidt x reader)

hi guys! this is my first ever lil fic/imagine/blurb here!! if y'all like this, I'll keep it up. I'm also new to tumblr, so please please be patient with me. in the future i'd love to do requests.

also if someone wants to help me with formatting/be friends, just shoot me a msg :p

this is just a quick lil imagine/blurb. I've seen so many smutty fics and i wanted to spice it up w/ some fluff. just sleepy time on mike's night off! on w the fic :p

*edit* this isn’t revised!! i threw something together last min and posted cause i felt like writing lol. don’t mind the typos

word count: 1,633

warnings: none! just fluff, angst if u squint!!

summary: nighttime with mike and abby on his day off!

Most of the time, you, your boyfriend Mike, and his little sister Abby were on entirely different schedules. Mike worked nights at a shitty gas station job for the time being after his job at Freddy's was... well.. no more for obvious reasons. Even though he swore off the night shift, this was necessary until he could find something better. Jobs were sparse at the moment, and Mike's history didn't exactly make him a star candidate.

A typical night would consist of you making the three of you dinner, slowly forcing Abby to venture out when it came to her taste buds. Recently, she'd taken a liking to tacos. You and Mike would make a joint effort to get her ready for bed earlier together, as Mike was more particular about being there for her since the incident. She'd get a bath, get into her jammies, and the two of you would tuck her in with a bedtime story. You'd both kiss her little forehead goodnight, then kiss your boyfriend on his lips before sending him off.

Most nights, you tossed and turned in your sleep, unable to rest properly without Mike by your side. A painfully dull feeling would rest in your stomach, the lack of his warmth beside you agonizing. You'd spend all night waiting for 6am to roll around as you felt the bed dip on his side, barely stirring you from your sleep. You'd have thirty minutes until your alarm went off, thirty minutes to wrap yourself up into him before you once again went on your separate ways... living your separate lives until you could have your few hours of union later on.

But tonight, you were lucky. Mike had gotten the next few days off. His job was being extra kind as they actually recognized the hard work Mike put in, something he wasn't used to. They'd told him someone would take over for a bit, to enjoy himself, to rest. It may have been a low-paying, trashy, borderline dangerous job, but his boss was nice, and the customers were certainly safer to deal with than those at the pizzeria.

You called out sick from work, not wanting to miss a single second with your little trio. You'd both even made the decision to pull Abby out of school for the day, spending it building forts, watching movies, and eating ice cream. The three of you even went out rollerskating, Mike awkwardly tumbling every few seconds on the rink as Abby would bust out laughing at him. The three of you were now sat around on the couch, Mike smooshed into the far side of the armrest as your entire body lay on his, Abby's head resting in your lap as she sleepily blinked her eyes. She'd already had her bath, brushed her teeth, and all three of you were in your pajamas.

"So, everyone have a good day?" Mike asked, turning his head to the two of you with a small but sleepy smile.

"Mhm," Abby hummed quietly, slowly nodding her head against your lap. It was clear that she was moments from passing out, and once Abby was out, she was impossible to get up without a fight.

"Okay, I think it's time for bed," you giggled, slowly lifting your own head up from Mike's shoulder. Mike nodded in agreement, a laugh of his own escaping his lips.

You both slowly pulled Abby up, getting her up on her feet, her half asleep state making her delirious as she wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, staring back at the two of you in confusion.

"C'mon, Abs, it's time for bed," Mike muttered, standing up. He grabbed your hand, pulling you up with him. You stood as well, following Mike as he led Abby to her room. She crawled up into her bed, her little body tucking under her blankets as the two of you sat on both sides of her.

"Want a bedtime story?" Mike asked, raising his eyebrows as he leaned down to press a small kiss to Abby's forehead. Abby's lips parted to answer, but before she could, her eyes were closed and she was out. A sincere and quiet chuckle escaped underneath Mike's breath, his eyes full of love for his sister as her stared down at her. You couldn't help but stare, the edges of your mouth turning up into a sleepy smile of your own. He was so majestic, his messy but soft brown curls were laying in every which way on his head. Even though he was much more rested than usual, his eyes were still somewhat sunken in, but to you, that just made him more attractive. His scruff was messy, unshaven, but it managed to highlight his jawline. The sparkle that remained in his eyes, even through it all, after everything that he'd been through, warmed you to your core, your love for him overwhelming.

"What?" Mike asked quietly with a smile still plastered on his lips, his eyes now locked on yours. A blush crossed your cheeks as you realize you’d been caught, your eyebrows raising.

“Nothin’,” you hummed, shaking your head. “Just admiring you.” Your hand reached out to his as the two of you went to your own bedroom, the only light now lighting up your house being the moonlight and street lamps peeking through the blinds. You both crawled into bed, pulling the blankets over your bodies.

There was nothing but silence other than the sound of the fan in your room, the hum almost hypnotic as you wrapped yourself up in his arms. Your head rest against his chest as he instantly tugged you closer, his back flat on the bed as his hand cradled your side. His thumb drew small figure eights on your shoulder. Your body felt fuzzy, a type of relaxation you hadn’t felt at night in a while. Mike made you feel safe. On nights where you two were able to just snuggle up, nothing could buzz in your mind. Anxious thoughts disappeared, even the ones that seemed to be a constant in the back of your brain. There was nothing but a warmness in your mind and a beam of love in your heart.

“Hey, baby?” You heard Mike ask softly, his voice cracking from his sleepiness. You were broken from your train of thought by this, looking up at the man with the sleepy eyes. “Hm?” You hummed in response, your eyes fluttering, but he couldn’t see due to the lack of light. Mike sat up, pulling you up with him as he grabbed your hands, both of your faces now lit up by the light peeking through the cracks in your curtain.

“I- I know we don’t get nights like these much, and I’m sorry. I’m sorry I’m never home, I’m sorry you have to do so much for you and Abby alone. I’m sorry I dragged you into that mess with Freddy’s, got you involved in so much of this,” he said, his voice seeping with sadness and regret. His eyes held an even softer emotion than they did earlier, one that felt like a knife to your chest. “Most importantly, I’m sorry I can’t be the boyfriend I should be. I mean, we should be spending our nights out at clubs, going out on special dates and vacations, and I hate that I’m unable to give you that,” he sniffled, a tear now falling down his eye.

You leaned forward, a frown on your lips as your eyebrows furrowed, your eyes locked on his as you placed your hand on his cheek, wiping away the tear with your thumb as you shook your head. Mike’s own two much larger hands were now placed on both of your cheeks as he continued. “But listen, Y/N, I love you, more than I have ever loved anyone, okay? I- I’m not good at this shit, I know I’m not. I’m clumsy and I’m bad at emotions. I don’t always know what I want or what I need, but I know I don’t only want you, but I need you. You came into my life and you brightened it where it was the darkest. You brought happiness back, you made me understand what joy was again, what it was like to feel.. complete. You saved me, but..” he trailed off again, full on tears falling down his cheeks now. “Most importantly, you saved Abby, made her feel whole again too, gave her somethin’ like a mother, something I couldn’t give her,” he said, his voice breaking at the end. Before he could say another word, you wrapped around arms around him, pulling him into a massive bear hug. He buried his head into the crook of your neck, your mind not even focused on the salty tears and the snotty nose that was leaned up against your shoulder. Your hands rubbing his back as you kissed the top of his head.

“Oh, baby..” you whispered softly, squeezing him like if you let go he’d disappear. “You know I love you so much too…” you finished, pulling his face up by his chin, pressing a soft, gentle but electric kiss to his lips. The two of you then settled back into bed, curling up in each other’s arms as he played with your hair, occasionally leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips, small sniffles still leaving his nose from the emotional moment. He was right, it was rare you got moments like these together, but when you did, you cherished them. It took about thirty minutes of sweet nothings and cuddles before the two of you drifted off, in your own little dream worlds filled with many nights like these.