#I wasn’t earlier but this was exactly what was needed

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader - A Little Birdie Told Me

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Warnings: Jealous Sylus, hints of mature themes towards the end

Sylus was fully expecting to get back home to feathers, metal and blood everywhere; what else was he meant to expect when leaving you and Mephisto together for a prolonged period of time. 

You two didn’t get along. 

Sylus knew this. 

But you owed him, since he looked after the dove you found, just before going away on a work trip. 

Much to his own surprise though, you didn’t argue with him when he asked you to check in on Mephisto; which naturally only made him more suspicious. 

You were planning something. 

He didn’t know what, but the mischievous glint that was showing in your eyes as he left, confirmed his suspicions. 

That’s why he was expecting at least part of his mansion to be somewhat trashed. 

But it wasn’t. 

There were no stray feathers. 

No shards of metal. 

No specks of blood from where Mephisto could have pecked you. 

There was nothing; everything was exactly how he left it. 

And instead of his home  being filled with the sound of yours and Mephistos petty squabbles, something that he’d gotten quite used to recently, his home was silent. 

‘Maybe Luke and Kieran were right,’ he thought to himself, hanging his leather jacket on the coat hook by his front door, thinking back to what the twins had told him a few days ago as he made his way down the hall. 

According to the twins, you and Mephisto were getting along fine; more than fine in fact, according to them you two were almost inseparable, like you were friends. 

But that was a ridiculous thought, you two didn’t get along, you’d both told him that, which is what made the picture he got sent even more puzzling. 

The picture was of you, reading, as you so often do, but this time Mephisto was perched on the arm of the chair next to and your free hand was on his head, petting him.

Was that part of the reason he came back a few days earlier than he’d intended to from his trip?

Yes. 

He needed answers. 

Though it was also because that picture made him realise just how much he hated being away from you and how much he hated that he wasn’t the one being given your attention. 

Granted you could be a pain in the ass at times, sassing him at any given opportunity as well as always pushing him to do the ‘right’ thing…but he’d grown to love those qualities about you. 

You changed him. 

He knew you’d had an affect on him long ago, however it wasn’t until recently whilst he was away from you that he realised two things, 1) How much of an affect you’d truly had on him and 2) How much he’d missed everything about you; your witty and sarcastic remarks, the way your infectious smile could light up a room, the way you hummed  along to whatever song was playing through your headphones as you danced in his kitchen, completely oblivious to his presence. 

Everything. 

And now that he was home, he just wanted to see you. 

Needed to see you. 

That was the whole reason why he asked you to look after Mephisto in the first place, not that he’d ever tell you that. 

He walked into the living room, a soft smile quickly forming on his lips as he saw you fast asleep on the sofa, your body wrapped in the blanket you’d claimed as yours after a few visits, your music blaring into your ears at the loudest possible volume. 

Though Sylus’ smile faltered as he took a few more steps closer to you, allowing him to see his mechanical bird nestled in the crook of your neck, little satisfied coos left his beak as the two of you continued to sleep peacefully. 

Of all the scenarios he thought he’d be walking into, this was the most unexpected; a complete juxtaposition to what he’d assumed he’d be walking into.

He should’ve felt relief in the fact that neither of you had killed the other, but relief was not the emotion he was feeling. 

Jealousy however was. 

The same feeling that he’d tried to push to the side when he saw the picture from the twins

That’s how maddening his feelings were for you, only you could ever make him jealous of Mephisto. 

What had happened whilst he was away?

Had he somehow ended up in an alternate reality where you and Mephisto were friends? 

He shook his head at the absurd thoughts racing around in his head; but what he was seeing was exactly that, absurd. 

He wanted to wake you so he could get some answers, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so, mainly because of how peaceful you looked. 

Mephisto though was different. 

Sylus had no issue in waking him up and thanks to the music you were listening to, you wouldn’t be disturbed by his annoyed caws once he was awoken. 

~~~~~~

Safe to say, Mephisto was very unhappy at being woken up. 

And his grouchiness was naturally directed towards the person who’d disturbed him. 

“All I’m asking is, what suddenly made you two so close?” Sylus asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he tried to ignore the jealousy remarks the crow was making. 

One thing was immediately clear to Sylus, Mephisto had certainly adopted your sassy retorts to questions. 

“I’m not,” Sylus denied; only to be mocked by the bird in front of him. 

He was becoming as infuriating as you were. 

“Are you two arguing?” You asked, your words catching Sylus off guard; he’d been so busy interrogating Mephisto that he’d been completely oblivious to you waking up or finding them in the study that they were currently standing in. 

“No,” Sylus answered simply, turning around to look at you. 

You were leaning against the doorframe of his study, your eyes meeting his and holding his gaze; it was like you were trying to read his thoughts. 

Thankfully, mind reading was not a skill you possessed. 

Much to Sylus’ dismay though, he didn’t need to answer you, because Mephisto answered for him. 

“Mephisto says you’re lying,” you stated, biting back the triumphant smile that wanted nothing more than to spread across your lips. 

Sylus didn’t know what was more shocking, the fact that she understood the Crow now behind him, or the fact that said crow had betrayed him in such a way. 

“I’m aware of what he said, sweetie,” Sylus pointed out, his voice laced with frustration as he quickly shot a glare at Mephisto. 

He knew you were going to ask why he was lying and just like that, those very words fell from your lips. 

Once again, Mephisto answered before Sylus could even open his mouth to speak; before flying very, very quickly out of the study, leaving you and Sylus alone together. 

“You were jealous?” You asked, taking a few steps closer to Sylus. 

Sylus didn’t want to admit it, but you were annoyingly persistent when you wanted answers. 

So unless he wanted to be continuously asked about Mephistos comment (Which he didn’t) he had no other choice to answer your question honestly.

“Yes,” he admitted, his voice low as you continued walking towards him, only stopping once you were directly infront of him. 

“Why?” You pushed.

He hated to admit that he was jealous; let alone saying the reason why…revealing how much he really craved your attention.

“Because I-” his words trailed off as he began to notice a playful smirk tugging at your lips, the realisation dawning on him in that very moment. 

You already knew why. 

This had all been some elaborate plan to get him to admit his feelings for you. 

“Who told you?” Sylus questioned, watching as your smirk grew.

“Who told me what?” You teased coyly, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a terrible liar, sweetie,” he whispered, leaning down slightly so that his lips were brushing over the shell of your ear. 

His words alone were enough to send a shiver down your spine. 

“Who’s idea was this, yours or Mephistos?” He asked, placing a feather light kiss just under your ear. 

“Both,” you breathed out; reveling in the closeness between the two of you. 

“Thought you two didn’t get along?”  He asked quietly. 

Granted, you and Mephisto had your differences, and you didn’t always get along, but recently you’d grown quite accustomed to one another. 

Of course you squabbled, but the same way someone would with a sibling.

You knew Sylus was going to ask you to look after Mephisto, because the crow had told you so in secret.

That’s when the two of you came up with this plan. 

A plan to make Sylus jealous. 

You were never one hundred percent sure of his feelings towards you, you flirted often enough, but some people just had that type of connection, it didn’t mean he felt the same way about you, that you did him. 

“Things changed,” you answered back, your voice just as quiet as his.

“Is it true?” You asked, changing the topic of conversation as you turned your head slightly, so now your lips were inches apart. 

“Is what true?”

“What Mephisto told me about how you feel about me?”

Being this close to him was torture for the both of you; both of you waiting for the other to make the final move and close the little distance that was between you both.

He saw the anxiety creeping in your y/e/c orbs as you waited for him to answer your question. 

But he knew that he could do something better than telling you how he felt, he could show you. 

And with that thought in mind, he closed the distance between your lips. 

It took you a few seconds to actually process what was happening; but once you did you wasted no time in allowing your eyes to flutter shut and melt into the kiss. 

The kiss started off gentle, soft, the two of you clearly processing what was happening; but everything changed when you wrapped your arms around the back of his neck, deepening the kiss.

His hands found a home on your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss intensified.

“Does that answer your question, kitten?” He murmured, pulling away from you slightly. 

“I don’t know, I think I could use some clarification,” you breathlessly chuckled before his lips met yours again, obliging to give you all the clarification you needed. 

Taglist:

@xacatalepsyx @the-slytherin-poet @deathkat657 @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @evilldentists @hao-ming-8 @worm-in-a-bug @babygirl-panda19 @tasha-1994 @popcorn-mochi01 @cheesemachine44 @thegalaxysedge22 @inlovewithsylus

[womanenjoyeranduselesslesbian]

Her ever lasting grip

wc: 1209 ☘︎︎

Content: Manipulation and emotional abuse, Toxic relationships, violence, noncon touching, kidnapping, power imbalance.

If this fic was messy af I’m so sorry, it’s my first time writing 🂱

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Rio… I—I left you for a reason, that was at least what you would tell her if you ever crossed paths again.

Years ago, long before Agatha Harkness had her hands on the Darkhold, you were entangled with Rio. In the beginning it seemed perfect. The connection between the two of you was intense, almost intoxicating. But soon things began to change. She started telling you who you could talk to, who you couldn’t, what you could wear, what you couldn’t. It was subtle at first, disguised as concern or affection, but the control she exerted tightened day by day. She loved it, the way she could manipulate you, bend you to her will, drawing you into her toxic web.

You had no idea why you didn’t leave her earlier. Maybe it was because she was a stronger witch, her power looming over you like a shadow. You knew, deep down that no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t truly escape. Not without consequences.

Then, the rumors began to spread about Agatha Harkness, a powerful witch who had killed her own mother and now wielded the powerful Darkhold. In all the chaos you saw hope,If Agatha was all that powerful maybe she could help you with Rio.

One night, after Rio had finally drifted off to sleep you made your move. Heart pounding you crept out of the old house.You had heard Agatha wasn’t far, only a couple of towns away hiding deep in the forest. You followed the whispers of her dark magic and found her standing over another witch taking her power with ease. Agatha’s presence was chilling, but you were past the point of no return.

Falling to your knees, you begged her to take you with her, to free you from Rio’s grasp. Something in your plea seemed to strike a chord with her, and perhaps out of pity or curiosity Agatha agreed. She let you stay, but there were conditions. In return for her protection, you would help her in whatever ways she needed.

And then the Hex came. A distortion of reality created by Wanda Maximoff, drawing you, Agatha, and the others into the made up world. You played your role as the nosy neighbor’s wife and agatha as the nosy neighbor. But when Agatha broke free and lost the battle Wanda hexed you both once more, trapping Agatha in Westview’s fabricated reality and you along with her.

Months later, you and Agatha found yourselves on a case that felt all too familiar. Like something sinister was lurking beneath the surface. That’s when your boss introduced a new detective to join the case. The moment you laid eyes on her the fear creeped up on you. It was Rio. Though she seemed calm the sight of her sent a wave of dread coursing through you. She smiled like it was nothing but you felt the weight of her presence like a collar tightening around your neck making it hard to breathe. That night, while you and Agatha sat watching TV the doorbell rang.

It was Rio.

She stood at the threshold, a casual smile on her lips, holding a box of pizza. Agatha squinted, like she recognized her but couldn’t place her finger from where. You, on the other hand, knew exactly who she was and what she was capable of. The discomfort gnawed at you as the three of you settled in.

Then came a noise from upstairs, something crashing to the floor. Agatha leaped up, rushing to investigate but you stayed frozen in place. Moments later, Rio’s fingers brushed against your leg, slowly creeping higher until they rested on your thigh.

“What are you doing?” you stammered, your voice trembling.

“Just touching what’s mine,” she whispered, her breath warm against your ear. You felt her body press against your back, like a reminder of the hold she still had on you. Her voice was soft, but the possessiveness in her words was suffocating.

Thankfully Agatha came back pretty quickly. It was just some kid that broke in, and the interrogation that followed didn’t take long. Agatha and Rio stayed behind at the station but you seized the opportunity to escape. Rushing home you collapsed onto your bed, exhaustion pulling you into a deep slumber. But even in sleep, Rio’s presence lingered, haunting your dreams. You saw flashes of what might have happened if you had been alone with her just a little longer, the weight of her magic pulling you deeper into the nightmare.

Hours later, screams tore you from your sleep. Jolting awake cold with sweat you raced downstairs, fear gripping your chest. What you saw stopped you cold. Rio had Agatha pinned against the wall with a wave of her hand, her magic rippling through the room like a storm, destroying anything that gets in its way.

But that wasn’t what shocked you the most.

As you stood there, watching the scene unfold, memories you had long buried came rushing back. Memories of the torment, the manipulation, the way Rio had twisted every part of you until you were no longer yourself, your childhood, the day you met Agatha and so much more. Rio glanced over her shoulder, her eyes gleaming with malice.

“Be a doll and help me, won’t you?” she cooed, smirking.

You hesitated for a heartbeat before bolting towards the back door, but it was already too late. A sharp pain exploded in your head, and everything went black. You could hear her laughing, her voice echoing in the darkness as your body went limp. To her, you were nothing but a foolish girl, someone who still needed her to think, to act, to live.

With Agatha still pinned helplessly to the ground, Rio bent down and scooped up your unconscious body, holding you effortlessly in her arms.

“The Salem Seven will probably be here by dawn,” Rio chuckled, her voice dripping with satisfaction. Then, with a final cackle, she disappeared into the woods behind the house, carrying you away, powerless once more.

[misctf]

Renovations Needed

For @artificial-transmutations

“Wait, you’re serious? Your uncle left you property?”

Andy nodded, “I’m as shocked as you are. But it says it right here. Look!” He handed Michael the paper, “It’s his old club. Not in the best part of town though...”

“Doesn’t matter, we can sell it!” Michael smiled, “We’ve been pretty tight on cash and we could use it for our wedding.” Michael hugged him, “Babe, this is incredible.”

Andy smiled warmly at his boyfriend. Michael was perfect. His smile enough to brighten up even his darkest days. His lean, muscular build highlighted under his tight white shirt. But more importantly, they complimented each other well. Michael’s ambition tempered and strengthened by Andy’s kindness.

“So, let’s go check it out”

_________

Compared to their cozy home, his uncle’s property was on the “bad side” of town. And just as his uncle neglected his body, he did the same to his property. Boarded up and worn down, this place needed a lot of work.

“Geez he let this place go.” Michael said, as the two inspected a broken window, “Fuck, I doubt we’ll get much for this place.” Andy frowned.

The two unlocked the front door, overwhelmed immediately by a moldy smell. The floors were stained, the bar was in shambles, and the walls were dirty. Andy jumped at the sight of a rat.

“What did you say your uncle did again?”

“He ran a club.” Andy replied, “At least until all that smoking caught up to him.” He navigated around some broken glass, “This place was really big back in the day... first gay club in the neighborhood.”

Michael nodded and continued his inspection, “Babe, look at this.” Andy’s eyes fell on a framed picture of his uncle, “Tough looking dude.”

Andy nodded, “That was him in his prime.” Mountainous biceps, a wide back, jutting pecs, bald, a thick beard- his uncle wasn’t someone you messed with. His stern glare could snap a lesser man in two, “He was never my biggest fan. I’m not exactly... tough. Just a ‘wimpy bitch boy’, as he would say.”

Michael frowned and kissed his boyfriend, “You’re perfect to me, babe.”

The rest of their inspection was disappointing, but nothing could compare them for the bathroom. Piss stains littered the floors and walls. Urinals were caked in it. There was even one missing- completely torn away from the wall. The smell nearly knocked them out, and they quickly retreated.

“This sucks.” Andy looked over to the photo of his uncle. His stern gaze piercing his soul, “He could’ve really made something of this place.”

“Agreed. It’s a real shame.” Michael replied, “He really fucked up, didn’t he.”

Andy sighed, looking at the picture of his uncle. And suddenly, an idea popped into his head, “What if I clean it up?” Michael let out a laugh, “No seriously! I could get this place straightened up. It would increase the value for sure!”

Michael sighed, “You really think you can do much for this dump?” Andy felt a sudden pang of anger that quickly dissipated before he could process it, “Look babe, I’ll support you. Couldn’t hurt.” He leaned in for a kiss.

_________

“This place looks better already.” Andy whispered as he entered the club the next day.

The club somehow already looked cleaner. Maybe even a little livelier. The smell wasn’t as bad, the floors not as dirty. But there was still work to be done. Andy swept the floor and watched as the grime vanished without much effort. He even dusted the photo of his uncle.

“We didn’t really get along, but thank you.” Andy whispered.

When he arrived home, Michael greeted him warmly, “Hey babe, how’d it go?” He scrunched his nose, “Damn, you stink.” He chuckled, but Andy glared at him, “I didn’t mean anything by it.” Michael replied, realizing his boyfriend wasn’t in the mood.

“I’m gonna go shower.” Andy said, brushing past his boyfriend without even a kiss, “See you in bed.”

In the shower, Andy tried to relax. His muscles were sore from earlier. And as he lathered up, he was surprised to feel small hairs along his chest and stomach. He was usually clean shaven, and these small dark hairs were odd. He thought little of it.  

Upon entering the bedroom, he found Michael lying in bed. Naked. A sexy smirk on his face. One that Andy usually couldn’t resist.

“You seem stressed babe.” Michael said, putting his hands behind his head, “And I think I have the solution.” His erect cock was on full display.

“Not in the mood.” Andy replied.

“Bullshit, I heard you moaning in the shower.”

“Not in the fucking mood.” Andy continued. Michael frowned, “I can sleep on the couch if you want.”

“Babe, what’s wrong?” Michael asked, concern etched on his face, “You seem...” He approached his boyfriend.

“I’m fine.” Andy replied, “Long day. Last thing I want is your dick up my ass.” He crawled into bed and faced away from Michael, “You coming?”

_________

The next day, Andy sat in his uncle’s office, rummaging through a desk. Even the office underwent a transformation overnight. The smell was gone, the chair was repaired, and the desk was no longer dusty. Andy scratched his chest and mentally made note that it felt firmer. But his thoughts were interrupted when he found a VHS tape. He raised an eyebrow.

“Shower Time?” He read the label, “What the fuck?” He looked up at the newly repaired TV and VHS player, “Might as well.”

The video started. There was his uncle. Nude. Standing above some guy. Some lesser man. Andy watched closely, absentmindedly rubbing his stiffening cock. And then it started. His uncle pissed on the guy below him. Andy watched as if in a trance, still rubbing his cock. And then it stopped.  

“What the fuck?” He whispered, looking down at himself, “I... I’m not into that kinda shit, am I?” The disturbed young man exited the office, “I need to get out of here...” But as he passed the watchful gaze of his uncle’s photo, he froze, “Where the fuck am I going?” He whispered, “I have work to do.”

Hours passed, and Andy’s work was nearly done. He wiped some sweat from his brow, barely registering his newly mountainous bicep. He felt his phone vibrate. Michael. He ignored the call and continued his work.

When he arrived home, Michael wasn’t there- likely at the gym. Andy walked to the bathroom and stared closely at himself in the mirror. Something wasn’t right.

“There we go.” He whispered, pulling out the clippers, “Just a little...” He buzzed away his brunette locks. Shorter and shorter until not a single hair remained, “Better.” He ran a hand over his bald head.

Later, when Michael did return home, he nearly fainted, “What the fuck?” He said, “Andy, what did you do?” Andy looked up and shrugged, “Babe, you’re bald!” Michael knew how much Andy cared about his hair, “Somethings wrong. Please just tell me.”

Andy glared at him, “You got a problem, bitch boy?” Michael’s jaw dropped, “By the way, we’re keeping the club.”

“That wasn’t the plan.” Michael crossed his arms, “What about selling it? We need the cash for the wedding.”

Andy stood up and crossed his arms, “Who gives a shit? Club’s nearly done anyway.” Michael could only watch as his boyfriend got up and left.

_________

Back at the club, Andy sat in his uncle’s office, watching another one of his uncle’s piss videos. The initial disdain for them being replaced by pure pleasure, as he jerked off. But his pleasure was interrupted when the door swung open.

“Andy, we need to...” Michael said desperately, “What are you doing?” Andy smirked and continued to jerk off, “Andy. Cut this shit out.”

“Didn’t take you for a little bitch.” Andy replied, standing up, “You should be fuckin’ happy. I mean look at me.” He flexed his biceps, which now rivaled Michael’s, “And this fuckin’ club is gonna take off.”

“But babe, I don’t want the club.” Michael replied, “Ever since we got it, you’ve been different. Andy please.” And for a second, Andy’s new persona faltered. His boyfriend’s caring eyes breaking through to him. And the kindness returned to Andy’s eyes.

“Michael...” He whispered, “I-I’m sorry.” He stepped forward, “I don’t know what happened.”

Michael smiled and hugged his larger boyfriend, “It’s okay.” He looked down at Andy’s arms, “ But you need to tell me your workout routine.” He said, trying to add some humor to the situation.

Andy shook his head, “Michael... this isn’t right.” He looked at his larger bicep.

“You’re going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.” Michael smiled.  

The two started walking down the long hallway to the main floor. Past the furious eyes of Andy’s uncle. And Andy froze.

“Wait babe, I left something in the bathroom.” He said.

Michael nodded, “Okay, I can wait...”

“No, come with me. Please.”

Michael shivered. Something told him to run. There was something different in his boyfriend’s eyes. But he wasn’t gonna leave him. He nodded and the two entered the bathroom. It was still in a state of decay.

“God, smells like piss in here.” Michael laughed nervously, “Guess you haven’t had time...”

Andy shoved him. A forceful push that sent him tumbling against the wall. Falling exactly into the empty slot between two urinals. Michael’s back hit the wall and he winced in pain, looking up at his boyfriend.

“Andy, what the hell...” Michael tried to move, but he couldn’t. He pushed against the wall desperately and looked up at his boyfriend in terror, “Andy, please! You need to help...”

But then he saw it. Andy was frozen, his clothes shredding as his muscles continued to grow. Behind him stood the specter of his uncle, who’s ghostly hands ran up and down Andy’s enlarging body. Andy moaned as his pecs grew into a pair of firm muscle tits and hair finally carpeting his clean-shaven skin in seconds.

“Andy...?” Michael whispered. Andy’s uncle smirked and suddenly Michael was naked. Pressed against the grimy wall of the bathroom.

The young man let out a yelp as he felt the pipe behind him enter his asshole and fuse to it. And he shivered as a sickly cold passed through his body.

“It hurts...” Michael whimpered as his muscles ached.

He looked down and quickly regretted it. His muscles were deflating- retracting into his body. His proud pecs and abs smoothing out, and his brunette locks and body hair fell to the ground below. Michael cried out again as his legs began to shrink and pull up into his abdomen.

“Andy help!” Michael cried out. He could see himself in the mirror. How his human features were starting to disappear, while his skin took on a paler tone. He felt cold. A sickly inhuman cold, “I-I...”

Tears fell from his eyes as he watched his toned arms begin to retract into his body. All the while, Andy was moaning as his own body packed on firm muscle and manly hair. His once clean shaven face now sporting a beard, while his expanding arms grew wiry hairs. In the midst of his transformation, he looked down at his boyfriend.

“Michael...” He whispered, “I-I’m sor...” He moaned as his package expanded, his bulge barely contained in his tight underwear.

Michael open his mouth to reply, but no words came out. Instead, his mouth remained forced open. And he could only watch in terror as it widened and stretched, forming a basin, while his tongue shifted into a urinal cake. Tears streamed from his eyes as he felt piping emerge from the top of his head and connect with the wall behind him. The coldness he felt earlier was now spreading. His flesh fully converting to white porcelain. And the last thing he saw before his vision went black was a final look of terror from Andy, which was soon replaced by the stern look Michael recalled from his uncle’s photo.

And then it was dark. It was cold and he was unable to move. Trapped. Not able to fully understand what happened to him.

“Fuck, I gotta take a leak.” Michael could still hear Andy’s voice, now gruff and harsh. He called out for help in his mind, hoping someone could hear.

But then he felt it. In the cold darkness of his new existence, he felt warmth. And tasted what he came to horrifically realize was piss. And after a minute or two of his old boyfriend filling his new mouth with urine, he felt hands wrap around his handle. The orgasmic pleasure nearly breaking Michael’s mind entirely, but not enough to free him from his new prison. Or awareness. And as the urine was washed away, Michael cried out in anguish as he came to realize his permanent fate.

“Shit that felt good.” Andy grumbled, “Alright, back to work. Opening days in just a week.”

The larger man went to leave, but not before turning back and looking at his new urinal. Something told him he was forgetting something important. A sense of dread filling him. He shook it off and left the bathroom, all under the watchful gaze of his uncle’s ghost.

_________

Opening day would come and go. And night after night, partygoers enjoyed the club and its atmosphere. Unaware of what had transpired there. And while they might not have been aware, Michael was. Day after day, and hundreds of men later. All filling his mouth and sending him into orgasmic pleasure with just a pull on his handle. Leaving him trapped and begging for freedom. But at least Andy would visit him. To use him of course. And only him. Andy couldn’t explain his attraction to that urinal. Nor would he ever realize why.

[waughymommy]

MOMMY KNOWS BEST 💞

Chapter 13

            Brian had managed to pull it together enough to get some work done. But as it neared lunchtime, he took notice of his aching bladder. He had tried to ignore the dampness of his pull-up from his earlier episode. It wasn’t by any means soaked, but he would feel better when he changed. He reached into his bag and pulled out a pull-up. He panicked when he realized he would have to sneak it out of his office. It might look odd carrying his work bag into the bathroom. He looked back at the pull-up and thought it was thin enough to wedge it between his waist band and his back and put on his jacket to conceal it. He called Samantha into office.

            “Yes, Mr. Sullivan?, she asked.

            “Um yes, I need you to hold my calls for a few minutes.” He shuffled papers on his desk, trying not to reveal his nervousness. “I think a walk will do me some good, maybe clear my head before the meeting this afternoon.”

            “Absolutely. I think that is a great idea. Is there anything else I can do?” she asked with a genuine smile.

            “You know what, there is. I want you in that meeting with me this afternoon. I want your eyes on this new project.”

She beamed. Although he often asked for her input, he had never brought her to one of these big project meetings. “Yes...yes I will absolutely be there.”

“Excellent. Ok I will be back in a bit,” he said as walked out the door. She watched him as he departed. He jacket was bunched in the back. She could something protruding from the waist of his pants. She couldn’t see it long as he disappeared from the doorway. She thought it crazy, but thought that it looked like a diaper. She was about to make her exit when she dropped her pen. It rolled down by his bag and she bent down to retrieve it. That’s when she noticed a ribbon connected to clip underneath his bag. That was curious. She pulled it free and discovered what was at the other end of the clip: a pacifier. A moment ago, she swore she a diaper sticking out of his pants and now she was holding a pacifier. She was nearly certain that he didn’t have any children. Why would this be here? Then she noticed that it was abnormally large. It looked far too big for any child. Was this his? She clutched it into her hand and walked out to her desk where she shoved it in a drawer.

            Brian nervously shuffled through the office. Brian had always had bathroom anxiety. He hated going into a bathroom with several stalls already occupied. He never understood how people could go so easily with others in earshot. If it looked like a bathroom was quite full, he had no turning around and waiting for another time. He would even walk clear across the building to one of the more secluded bathrooms to have some privacy. That’s where he planned on going now. Although it would take longer to get there, it might be an easier place to change. As it was the lunch hour, much of the office was vacant. Brian breathed a sigh of relief as he reached the bathroom and found all the stalls empty.

            He closed the door behind him and removed his jacket. He stood there for a moment trying to figure out how to do this. If his mommy were here, she would know exactly what to do. After a moment, he realized he had no choice but to completely undress. He slipped out of his shoes and proceeded to strip down. Here he was standing in an office bathroom in nothing but his socks, a onesie and a damp pull up. He never could have imagined this when he left work on Friday. He unfastened the snaps of the onesie and tore off the onesie. He pulled up his onesie while he used the bathroom. His bladder was super full and he felt instant relief. When he finished, he slipped on the new pullup and proceeded to redress himself. This was going to be a big problem if he was going to have to completely undress every time he needed to use the bathroom. He walked out of the stall and placed the used pull-up in the trashcan. He wadded up several paper towels and threw them over top of the discarded pull-up in hopes that no one would see it. He washed his hands and looked himself over in the mirror. He felt confident that his onesie was properly concealed, and he started to make his way back to his office.

            As he passed Samantha’s desk, he flashed a nervous smile and quickly shuffled into his office. He had just settled back into his chair, when she knocked at his door. “May I come in?” she asked through the door.

            Brian exhaled, “Sure.”

            “That was a pretty fast walk sir. Is there anything you need before the big meeting this afternoon?” she asked in a sweet tone.

            He looked up at her with an almost quizzical gaze. She was always a diligent employee, but today she seemed to be extra attentive, almost doting. He couldn’t put his finger on it. “A coffee would be wonderful. I could use a pick me up.”

            “Glady,” and she was off. Brian tried to focus his mind on the upcoming meeting. Today was the first that he had of the Babies R Us project. He didn’t even know they were a client. But why did they want him on the project? He was feeling pensive again and he reached into his bag, fishing for his pacifier. Nothing. His chest grew tight and his stomach was in knots again. He frantically threw the bag on his desk to search the bag more thoroughly. As he searched, Samantha came back in with his coffee.

            “Is everything alright Mr. Sullivan?" she asked with concern. She saw the frantic expression on his face. He tried to make up an excuse that he had momentarily lost his wedding ring.

            He placed the bag back on the ground, “All good. Thank you for the coffee.” She knew that he had to have been looking for the pacifier she found earlier. It probably explained why he was acting so weird. She felt a sudden pang of guilt for taking it, but she had so many questions She guessed her own curiosity possessed her to grab it. For a split second she thought about retrieving it from her desk and returning it. However, with the meeting approaching, it seemed like a bad time. She would wait until it was time to head home.

            The hour of the meeting arrived and the two walked into the conference room. Mr. Gates was already seated as well as several of his other colleagues. “Ah Mr. Sullivan, just the man I have been waiting to see. Please take your seat and we will get started in just a moment.”

            Brian sat down at opened his notebook. Samantha went to take a seat at a chair on the perimeter of the room, but he beckoned for her to sit next to him. “I hope you don’t mind Mr. Gates, I have invited Ms. Carson to sit in on this meeting. I think she might some fresh perspective.”

            “Of course not Mr. Sullivan. Your work for this company has been impeccable. You have been invaluable to this company. Now as you may know, Babies R Us as hired us to help them market a new product line. If we knock this out of the park, they may work with us exclusively. Mr. Johnson here is going to brief us a bit more on the details. The floor is yours sir.”

            Mark Johnson passed around a packet of information to everyone in attendance, “Thank you Mr. Gates. As he said Babies R Us wants us to market this new line of products. As you can see here it is called Mommy Knows Best. It includes everything from diapers and clothing to strollers and furniture. Brian stared down at the line of products listed in the packet. He kept his head down. He prayed he wasn’t blushing too bad. He was sitting in a conference room listening to a presentation on a line of baby products while underneath his professional attire, he was clad in a pull-up and onesie. Samantha noticed his discomfort but recognized there was little that she could do in the moment. Brian struggled to focus and was only partially paying attention. As Mark spoke, he noticed a twinge in his bladder. He shouldn’t have had that coffee.

            Mark continued on, “As you can guess with a name like Mommy Knows Best, we want to drive home that idea that no one knows what’s best for their baby than a mother. We want them to associate this line of product as the best possible decision for all of their baby’s needs.” Brian began to quietly fidget in his seat. He absent mindedly bounced his leg. Samantha had never seen Brian act this way. He was usually so calm and collected. Brian tried to focus, but his full bladder interrupted his concentration. He decided to try and pee a little bit with the hope of reducing the pressure. He took a breath and relaxed his muscles, but instead of just letting out a small spurt, the damn burst. There was nothing he could do to stop it as his pull was being put to its limit. Samantha looked over convinced she heard a hissing sound. Brian tried to look nonchalant, but he was on the verge of panic attack.

            Mark finished his presentation. Mr. Gates stood up and looked directly at Brian, “Mr. Sullivan can we rely on you to handle this project.”

            Brian stammered, “Uh yes…yes of course of Mr. Gates.”

            “Very well then. Thank you everyone,” Mr. Gates said and exited the conference room. Brian stood up without a word. He could feel the weight of his pullup. He was too scared to see if he leaked into his pants. He raced out of the room without waiting for Samantha to accompany him. She had no clue as how to help.

            Brian reached the safety of his office and locked the door behind him. He pulled down his pants to inspect. He could feel that his onesie was damp, but his pants remained dry. He hoped he could make it till the end of the day. He unlocked his door and went back to his desk. As he sat down, he felt the squish of his pull-up. He just wanted to cry. He needed his mommy. He sat staring at his computer screen in a total fog. Finally a knock at the door jolted him from his daze. “Mr. Sullivan is there anything else I can do before I head home?” He looked down at phone and realized the time. “No Ms. Carson. Thank you for all you hard work today,” he said through the door.

            Brian gathered his things and walked briskly out of his office. He reached his car and set his bag inside. He was just about to hop in when he heard his name called. He swung around to see Samantha running towards him.

            “Ms. Carson, is everything ok?” he called to her.

            “I need to apologize to you,” she said while opening her hand to reveal something sitting on her palm. “I found this on the floor of your office. I am so so sorry Mr. Sullivan. I don’t know what I was thinking. I just grabbed it and I shouldn’t have. I have no idea what’s going on. I know you were under a lot of stress today. I want you to know that I am here if there is anything I can do, not only as a coworker, but as a friend. You have always been so kind and respectful to me.”

            Brian’s face could not hide his shock as he took the pacifier from her. He was completely flabbergasted. He tried to speak, but no words escaped his mouth. She reached up and in a comforting manner, placed her hand on his arm. “There is no judgement from me. You are a good man, Brian. Oh and, you might want to get some thicker protection,” and with that she walked away. Brian quickly patted his backside and realized that several wet spots had formed. He hopped down in the car and tried to process what had just happened. He looked down at the pacifier still in his hand. After a moment, he surrendered to his needs and popped it into his mouth and proceeded to drive home.

[pandapetals]

Slim Pickens

logan howlett x !reader - angsty, reader lowkey hates logan, inspired by sabrina carpenter's song slim pickens

read on Ao3

Without a doubt, you knew you were going to end up alone. The thought crept in after every disappointing date, every one-night stand that left you cold, every late-night text that led nowhere. All the guys you met were the same—douchebags with oversized egos and nothing real to offer. It was a pattern you couldn't break, a cycle that seemed destined to repeat. Why was it so hard to find a decent guy?

You didn’t even need perfect. You weren’t looking for some fairy-tale romance or a knight in shining armor. You just wanted someone who didn’t make you feel like you were settling for less than you deserved.

Then there was Logan.

You’d sized him up the moment you met him—jacked, rough around the edges, with a perpetual scowl and a short temper to match. He walked like he owned the room, his shoulders tense, his eyes dark, and he had the kind of attitude that practically screamed “trouble.” You’d rolled your eyes so hard it hurt, dismissing him in an instant. He wasn’t your type. You knew his kind. And after a few clipped conversations, you were more than certain Logan was exactly the kind of guy you couldn’t stand.

“Douchebag,” you’d muttered after he’d walked off from another pointless exchange.

And you didn’t hold back either. You bitched and complained about him to anyone who’d listen—Charles, Scott, Storm, anyone within earshot of your growing frustration.

“He’s impossible,” you’d said one night over beers with Storm, your voice rising with indignation. “He’s not a team player, doesn’t listen to anyone, and doesn’t even get me started on his attitude. You know what he said to me earlier?”

Storm had given you a knowing look but let you rant anyway. Everyone had opinions about Logan, after all. He was easy to dislike, a ball of raw energy, constantly on the edge of something dark and dangerous.

“He’s just... ugh,” you groaned, running a hand through your hair. “I don’t get why anyone puts up with him.”

But deep down, beneath all the complaining, something gnawed at you. Something you didn’t want to admit.

You hadn’t seen it right away—not until one mission changed everything.

It had been chaotic, a nightmare situation where nothing went as planned. The team had been dispatched to rescue a group of mutant kids who had been captured by some underground militia. The operation had gone sideways almost immediately. You’d been cornered, pinned down by enemy fire, your heartbeat thrumming in your ears as panic crept in. And then—Logan.

You saw him, right in the thick of it, moving with a kind of brutal precision that took your breath away. He tore through the enemy lines like it was nothing, claws flashing, his eyes wild and fierce. But what caught you wasn’t the violence—it was the way he threw himself into the rescue without a second thought. No hesitation, no fear, just pure instinct as he fought his way to those kids.

The moment you saw him lift one of the terrified children into his arms, shielding them from harm with his own body, something inside you shifted. He wasn’t careful, wasn’t gentle, but there was a raw protectiveness in his actions that hit you like a punch to the gut.

You watched him take down another wave of attackers, blood streaking his face, his body moving like a machine—powerful, unrelenting. And then, as he brought the last of the kids to safety, something unexpected flared in your chest.

Respect.

He was more than your first impression.

You didn’t want to admit it, but Logan wasn’t just the hot-tempered, arrogant jerk you’d made him out to be. There was something deeper there, something you’d been too quick to write off. The way he fought, the way he protected those kids, the way he seemed to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders without ever asking for help—it unsettled you. Because it meant you’d been wrong about him.

Being wrong about Logan was a lot more dangerous than you wanted to acknowledge.

Days passed after that mission, but you couldn’t shake the image of him—the way he’d looked standing there, bloodied but unbroken, with a kid clinging to him like he was some kind of savior. The frustration you felt toward him softened, and changed. You found yourself noticing things about him you hadn’t before. The way his gruffness wasn’t just aggression, but a shield. The way he stayed on the fringes of the group, never quite fitting in, but always there when it mattered.

You didn’t complain about him as much after that. You didn’t have much to say when Scott made some offhand comment about Logan’s attitude or when Storm chuckled about his lone-wolf tendencies. Instead, you found yourself defending him in small, subtle ways, even if it was just a quiet “He gets the job done.”

It was a shift you didn’t want to admit, but one that was impossible to ignore. The more you tried to fight it, the more you felt the pull.

And Logan—he noticed.

You’d catch him watching you now, his dark eyes lingering longer than before, his smirk a little less cocky, a little more curious. He never said much, never one for words, but there was something in the way he looked at you that made your pulse quicken.

One night, after a particularly long and exhausting mission, you found yourself alone with him in the briefing room. Everyone else had already left, and you were sorting through some files when Logan approached, his boots heavy on the floor. You didn’t look up, but your body tensed, already attuned to his presence.

“You were good out there,” he said gruffly, voice low and gravelly.

You glanced up, surprised by the unexpected compliment. “Thanks,” you muttered, unsure how to respond. Compliments weren’t his style, and it threw you off balance.

Logan leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching you with that unreadable expression of his. “You’re not as annoying as I thought,” he added, the slightest hint of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You rolled your eyes, but your lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “High praise coming from you.”

He shrugged, his gaze never leaving yours. “Just callin’ it like I see it.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, the air thick with something that felt different now. Less hostile, more... charged. You didn’t know what to do with it, and this new dynamic was between you. It wasn’t the same as before, but you weren’t sure what it was either.

Logan pushed off the table and started to walk away, but then paused, looking back at you over his shoulder. “See you around, kid.”

You scoffed, but there was no real heat behind it. “I’m not a kid, Logan.”

His smirk deepened, eyes gleaming with something almost playful. “Yeah. I know.”

Just like that, he was gone, leaving you standing there with your heart pounding harder than it should have been, your mind racing with thoughts you weren’t ready to unpack.

Logan wasn’t perfect. Hell, he was far from it. Maybe there was more to him than you’d given him credit for.

That scared you more than anything.

[crescenthistory]

in the silence, there is an us

Pairing: Paul Atreides x Reader

Summary: Throughout their lives, Paul and reader have often found themselves in each other's bed. Childish games after bedtime, late-night studying sessions, nightmares, and a burning need to not be apart.

Words: 7.2k

Warnings: not proofread, possibly some inaccuracies about plot details (have not watched dune in ages, i'm just obsessed with paul), best friends to lover, tension, light angst, jessica being a bit rude, reader being an orphan and of a lower social rank, duke leto's death (rip), lots of cuddles and lingering touches, fluff, the whole deal

***

The grand halls of Castle Caladan always had an eerie stillness after sunset. The select servants walked quietly, the sound of waves crashing below barely made its way through the stone walls, and the Duke and Lady Jessica kept to their quarters. For Paul and you, though, this was the perfect time to sneak past the sternness of bedtime. The day never seems long enough for young children whose eyes are still filled with stars.

“Come on!” Paul’s whisper was loud, almost too loud for sneaking around, but you didn’t think long enough to care. The thrill of the game was enough to make both of your hearts race. You were barefoot, your steps making soft thuds against the cool floor as you tiptoed through the hall toward his room.

“If we get caught—” you whispered, but Paul cut you off with a grin.

“We won’t. Besides, who can stop us?”

You rolled your eyes at his cocky confidence. He wasn’t wrong, though. You had never been good at staying still, at obeying the invisible rules set up by adults. With no living relatives to share your name, Paul was more than just a best friend – he was all you had. Him and Duke Leto, whose unwavering sense of duty made him take you in at the Castle when your parents died on a mission he orchestrated. Responsibility above all else, all the qualities he aimed at instilling in his young son. And it couldn’t hurt Paul to have a friend his own age, could it? 

You slipped into his room, both of you giggling like you’d just played the best prank on his sleeping parents. His bed was huge for a 7-year-old, more space than one boy could ever need regardless of his nobility. Tonight, it was your playground, stretching for miles.

Paul scrambled up first, then turned and offered you his hand. “Bet you I can jump higher than you,” he said, a challenge clear in his eyes.

You took his hand, pulling yourself up and laughing as the two of you bounced on the mattress, trying to outdo each other in height and bravery. You weren’t worried about waking anyone. Even if Duke Leto found you – and he often did – his stern reprimands were laced with amusement.

This was not the first time the two children had snuck into each other’s rooms after dark, the activity becoming more habit than occasion. Nights like this were your shared rebellion, a refusal to let the day end just because the sun had gone down, just because Jessica had tucked Paul into bed an hour earlier for bedtime.

Eventually, after you had worn yourselves out, you collapsed side by side on the bed, your breaths heavy from laughter. You stared up at the ceiling, still giggling as the adrenaline began to fade.

“I don’t want it to be bedtime ever again,” Paul said, his voice soft, almost wistful.

You turned your head to look at him, sprawled out on the massive mattress, dark hair in his eyes that reflected the dim moonlight streaming through the window. You understood exactly what he meant.

“Me neither,” you replied with a smile. Your hand found his under the covers.

Neither of you moved as your true bedtime took over, the quiet settling in around you, comfortable and warm. You fell asleep like that, fingers intertwined, with no concept of what it meant to have boundaries. There was just Paul, and you, and the night that was never long enough.

  ***

In the wake of your early teens at the castle, sneaking into each other’s rooms had become less about rebellion and more about comfort. The innocence of bouncing on beds and stifled laughter gave way to whispered conversations in the dark and the shared weight of fears neither of you quite understood yet.

The first time Paul came to your room because of a nightmare, it startled you. You were just about to drift off when you heard the soft creak of your door, followed by the quiet patter of feet. You jerked up from the mess of blankets, blinking into the darkness. Confusion and perhaps a bit of fear grasped you, until you saw his silhouette standing near the edge of your bed.

“Paul?” you whispered, straightening up. “What’s wrong?”

He didn’t answer at first, he didn’t know how. With his tense expression and shadows playing across his face, he looked haunted despite his still small, boy-like frame. You knew him in and out by now, and could clearly read the signs of his nails digging into the skin of his fingers, breathing shallow and uneven. 

“Can I stay?” His voice was rougher than usual, like he was barely holding it together.

“Of course.”

You didn’t ask any questions, it was a silent understanding. Instead, you lifted the blanket, making room for him. He crawled in without hesitation, laying his head on the pillow on your left. His body rigid beside yours for a moment before he relaxed, the tension slowly draining away.

Lying there, you listened to the sound of his breathing steadying, feeling the warmth of his presence next to you, arm against arm. It was quiet, but not silent – the kind of quiet that only existed when you knew someone else was there with you. Someone who understood. Someone who would never judge you for being afraid.

In his newfound safety, Paul drifted off easier than he could in his own bed. Yours was significantly smaller, but somehow softer, and he could actually feel the weight of you beside him on the mattress. He could ground himself in your presence. When he fell asleep, his head fell slightly to the side, his hair brushing against your cheek. 

You, on the other hand, stayed awake a little longer, staring up at the ceiling, your thoughts racing. 

You’d always been each other’s rock, but now, something was different. The comfort you found in his presence was deeper, more profound. It wasn’t just about not wanting to be alone anymore, it was about needing him specifically. It brought a smile to your face to know that he found that same assurance in you.

***

The weights on your shoulders materialised and became clearer as you grew beside each other. At sixteen, the favours Duke Leto had bestowed upon you by allowing you residence and education at Caladan felt like a debt more than a blessing. One you had to repay through excellence, through true devotion to any and all training given to you. While Paul tried to seem more lighthearted about it all, it could be felt in the air all the same. You were no longer just two children sneaking around a castle that seemed to never end. You were a future duke and a noblewoman-in-training, navigating a world that seemed to have its eyes on you at every moment.

To earn your gifted title and position and prove yourself worthy of your place as Paul’s friend, you poured over every textbook your teachers assigned you. The study of Caladan, of politics, traditions and customs occupied your mind to the extent that you neglected the occupant of your heart. 

Yet, at late hours, it was always Paul’s bedroom floor the pair found themselves splayed across. 

Sheets of notes, pens and books layed on top of themselves in a system neither of you could have been able to explain to an outsider. Paul against the wall with his notebook, you stomach-down on the carpet, nose buried between the words in your textbook.

“You’re going to wear yourself out.” Paul’s words were muttered, watching you through tired eyes.

You shook your head. “I’m fine. Just one more chapter.”

“You said that an hour ago.”

“I mean it this time.”

Paul didn’t argue, but you could feel his eyes on you as you worked, his presence a quiet comfort beside you. It had become routine, the two of you studying together, you claimed you worked better that way. Paul occasionally asking questions while you tried to focus on your own work but more often than not, you ended up helping him instead of yourself.

Your one-more-chapter became two more as you tried to retain the information, but your eyelids grew heavier, your focus slipping. The same sentence became burned into your retinas without making much more sense.

Ever so slowly, your head was brought closer and closer to the ink. Eventually it was all you could see before your cheek hit the page – you were out as a light.

Paul watched you for a moment, a soft smile playing on his lips. This was not the first time. He closed his own book and moved quietly to your side. He brought a finger up to brush some of your hair out of your face before he rolled you over. Gently, he lifted you, careful not to wake you as he carried you to the bed. His bed.

It had almost become part of the routine, he watches you exhaust yourself and then ensures you get the rest you deserve. He had done this before, but each time, it made his chest tighten more in ways he didn’t fully understand.

As he laid you down delicately, he hesitated by your side for just a moment, watching the rise and fall of your chest, the peaceful expression on your face. He didn’t realise how often he found himself staring at you like this, wondering when the girl who used to be his playmate had become someone he couldn’t stop thinking about. Someone he wanted to protect, to keep close, even as you worked yourself to the bone. He wanted to tell you you didn’t have to, that he knew and that you were enough. Instead, he let his instinct win and lightly caressed the soft flesh of your arm.

After a brief pause, Paul pulled the covers over you and sat on your edge of the bed for a while longer. He was tired himself, but he didn’t want to move. Not just yet.

***

The past few months felt as if they stretched on for years with how much change and development you were faced with, almost forcefully. Despite your efforts, the older you got, the more you felt like a young girl attempting to parade as a grown woman ready for whatever duties Duke Leto sees fit of you, as a “noblewoman” without any true blood given nobility. 

Paul had been dancing around your worries for a while now, cutting off your worried rants with funny quips and dragging you from the library or training room to the beach when he believed you too worrisome. However, his duties were catching up to him as well, even when he tried to balance on the beam with you. He would be a duke one day, and though he had acted like a prince all his life, this was much more real.

His duties were specifically catching up to him in the form of one Lady Jessica. Reminders, comments, requests to his teachers and staff. She wanted him to start becoming the man he needs to be.

One of her lectures was playing out before your eyes in the library, though it escaped you how it even began. The soft, rhythmic drumming of the rain against the high windows felt like the one thing tethering you this world as she spoke, shadows cast across her face. 

Lady Jessica’s voice sliced through the rain, calm but pointed. Leaving the air around you feeling heavy. You sat at a table beside Paul, as she stood above you, a judge passing through your reading session. Her sharp eyes, blue within blue, never seemed to miss anything.

She had always watched you carefully, ever since you were children – though it wasn’t until recently that you noticed how her gaze lingered on you. Emotion indecipherable, yet somehow your stomach seared from it. She was assessing you on criteria it felt you had no control over. 

“You’re both approaching the age where things will change,” Jessica said, her gaze flicking between you and Paul. Her tone was deceptively gentle, like the calm before a storm. “You can no longer afford to be... careless.”

There was a long pause, a silence that felt charged with unspoken meaning. Paul shifted beside you, and though you didn’t look at him, you could feel the tension in the way he carried himself, alert, almost defensive.

“I’m not just speaking about duties to the House or the formalities expected of you as you come of age.” Lady Jessica’s eyes rested on you, sharp and assessing. “I’m also speaking about the way you conduct yourselves in your personal relationships.”

Your heart stuttered at the implication, warmth creeping up the back of your neck. You did not wish to dig into the meaning behind her words.

This was not the first time she’d given such a lecture, but it was the first time it felt so personal. So aimed. It was understood she must be referring to the hours upon hours you spent together, including in the moonlight. The quiet moments where you and Paul sought each other out, seeking comfort when the world felt too heavy to bear alone.

It was never intended to be anything inappropriate. You were each other’s safety nets, just like you had always been. But still, you felt a pang of shame coil in your chest at the thought of it being seen that way.

“You have been given responsibilities that go beyond your own desires,” Jessica continued, turning slightly toward Paul. “You are the heir to the House of Atreides, Paul. Every decision you make now, every relationship you allow to develop, can impact that legacy.”

Paul’s jaw clenched, and for the first time, you risked a glance at him. His face was unreadable, but the tension in his posture betrayed his discomfort. His eyes flicked to you, worry clouding them more than annoyance at his mother’s words. He searched your face for something, and did not seem happy with what he saw, but your ripped your gaze away a mere second after.

He was not thinking about his legacy. In that moment, all he thought about was you and how you were feeling.

Your stomach twisted, and the weight of it all – the difference in your status, the expectations that shadowed both your lives – seemed too much. Lady Jessica was not wrong, and Gods did you hate it. You glanced down, willing the words to settle somewhere far away, somewhere that wouldn’t hurt so much.

“You must understand,” Jessica said, her voice softer now, but no less firm, “the time for childish games is over. It’s time for both of you to take your roles more seriously. The future will not wait for you to be ready.”

The words hit you harder than they should have, like a reprimand for something you had not yet done but already felt guilty about. You wanted to say something, anything to show that you understood, that you weren’t some distraction pulling Paul away from his responsibilities, but the words stuck in your throat. Instead, you nodded stiffly, keeping your eyes trained on the floor.

Jessica gave a tight-lipped smile you did not see, before turning around to take her leave, pleased with the efficiency of your talk. She was gone, her robes whispering against the stone floor as she left you alone with the silence she had created between you two.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The weight of Jessica’s words still hung heavy in the room, thickening the air between you. You could feel Paul’s gaze on you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to look up at him, not yet.

“She didn’t mean it like that,” Paul finally said, his voice low and careful, like he was testing the waters.

When you did not respond, Paul let out a soft sigh, moving his body towards you. “She’s just worried. That’s all. My mother—”

“Your mother is *always* worried,” you cut in, more sharply than you intended. You could feel the weight of it all pressing down on you. The constant reminders of how you didn’t quite fit into this world of nobility and politics, how your presence was tolerated but not truly embraced by the one woman you wished to be on your side. “And maybe she has a point. I’ve been distracting you. I shouldn’t... I shouldn’t keep coming to you.”

You did not elaborate, you did not need to.

Paul’s expression tightened, and before you could move away, he reached out, gently gripping your hands between his. His touch was warm, grounding, but you tried not to let yourself sink into it.

“No,” he said, his voice firm now. “You haven’t been distracting me. You’ve... you’ve been keeping me sane. It’s not the same thing.”

You swallowed hard, shaking your head again. “But your mother thinks—”

“I don’t care what my mother thinks.”

The words were out of Paul’s mouth before he could stop them, and for a moment, he looked almost startled by his own admission. He blinked, as if trying to make sense of his own boldness, before his grip on your hands tightened just slightly, his eyes locking onto yours.

“I don’t care what she thinks about the time we spend together,” he said, quieter this time, but no less intense. “She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t know what it’s like to feel like you’re drowning, like the world’s pressing in from every side, and you’re just. Alone.”

You looked up at him then, your breath catching at the rawness in his voice. Paul never let anyone see him like this—not even you most of the time, not fully. But now, there was something in his eyes that hadn’t been there before. Desperation, maybe. Or something deeper, something unspoken.

“Whenever I’m with you, it’s the only time I don’t feel that way,” he continued, his voice low, like he was sharing a secret he’d been keeping for too long. “You’re not a distraction. You’re the only thing that keeps me steady.”

Your chest tightened, torn between the overwhelming urge to believe him and the guilt that had been festering inside you since Jessica’s words. You wanted to argue, but the look in his eyes made it impossible to say any words out loud.

So instead, you swallowed your thoughts, pressing them deep down where they couldn’t be reached.

“We just need to be more careful,” you said softly, pulling your hands away from his grasp. Your skin still tingled where his fingers had been. “Your mother’s right. We can’t keep hiding away in each other’s rooms. We can’t... we can’t keep acting like kids.”

Paul’s face fell, the tension in his shoulders sagging slightly. His now-free hands went up to rub at his face before he sighed. “But we’re not acting like kids.”

“Aren’t we?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper. “We’re literally sneaking into each other’s beds in the middle of the night, Paul. We’re still pretending like nothing’s changed.”

Paul was quiet for a long moment, his eyes flicking away from you, as if he couldn’t bring himself to argue. Maybe because deep down, he knew you were right.

But then, just as the silence between you started to feel unbearable, he spoke again, his voice quieter, but full of conviction.

“Nothing has changed though. Not between us.”

The words lingered in the air, and for the first time in a long while, you didn’t know how to respond. A part of you wanted to believe him, wanted to cling to the idea that no matter what the world threw at you, no matter what Lady Jessica said, you and Paul would always be the same. The same two people who had spent years leaning on each other, who had always been there to catch each other when the ground fell away.

Yet, you knew what Paul’s wishful thinking sounded like more than anyone else. You knew everything about him. And in this moment, you knew he was wrong. No matter how much you both tried to ignore it, the future was closing in around you.

“I should go,” you said quietly, getting up from your seat before he could say or do anything to stop you. “I need to think.”

Paul didn’t say anything, but the look in his eyes was enough to keep you rooted in place for just a moment longer, looking down at him. He still looked so young, his eyes so wide. That familiar ache settled in your chest, the same ache that came whenever you thought about what you were trying so hard not to lose.

“I will see you tomorrow,” you said, and with that you left him to sit with the sound of rain drops against glass.

After Jessica’s most pointed lecture, your unease at night, the one you and Paul seemed cursed to be forever plagued by as children of the castle, had only increased. You woke in cold sweat or you did not wake at all – regardless, you stayed in your own bed, never venturing down that familiar path in the hallway. You hugged your knees for comfort. 

You were a proper young woman. As you ought to be.

Nothing could get you and Paul to stop spending time with each other entirely though, not his mother and certainly not complicated feelings. There was already a lot of that flowing around anyway.

Classes, meals, walks around the hallways, the occasional silent moment watching the waves side by side in a large window. Never late-night visits. Never lingering too much, especially not around Jessica. 

She seemed pleased with your development, so you bit your cheek and played the part.

It had been months since either of you crossed that invisible boundary, but the comfort of those nights lingered in your minds, a shared memory you couldn’t quite let go of. One that you held tight on rough nights.

Ironically enough, it was the nights without thunder or storms that you struggled the most. Gripped by fear and horror, you fought through the worst nightmare you had experienced in many years. Mangled bodies, fire and smoke, Paul’s face distorted by sandstorms that you swear you could feel cut into your fragile skin like class.

The scream was lodged in your throat as you shot up, finally able to pull yourself out of the depths of your consciousness of all that has happened and all you fear will. Drowning in sweat and tears, violently trembling all over, you suddenly found yourself on your feet in the cold hallway.

No coherent thoughts were running through your head, just instinct and an intense need to be saved from your own mind. Even in a waking state, you still felt half infused in the nightmare, seeing the scenes when you blink, as if tattooed on your eyelids.

Almost running down the known path, your hand grazing the wall as you went to stabilise yourself. The rational part of your brain told you it wasn’t appropriate, that you should listen to Jessica, you were both too old to be doing this – but you were not in a rational state of mind right now. Right now you were the same scared little girl you have always been, the one you fear you always will be, and you knew what you needed to do to quiet her screams. 

When you reached his door, you paused, your hand hovering over the handle. What if he didn’t want this anymore? What if he would turn you away?

Before you could second-guess yourself further, the door creaked open, and there he was. Paul stood in the doorway, lit up from behind by a single candle on his nightstand. His eyes were wide as he took the sight of you in, but there was no real surprise etched on his face. However, if you weren’t mistaken, you thought you saw relief in it. Like he had been waiting for you, hoping for you to come.

Paul breathed your name out like a ‘thank you’, stepping aside to let you in before you could even speak. His hair was dishevelled, his shirt wrinkled from where he must have been lying awake, staring at the tall ceiling.

You slipped in past him, already feeling some tension leave your body as soon as the door closed behind you. You weren’t sure what to say. Maybe you didn’t need to say anything at all. Letting your eyes meet his, the look on Paul’s face told you everything you needed to know.

Without a word, you moved toward the bed, and Paul followed, his presence a warm, steadying force behind you. He didn’t ask you any questions, he didn’t need to. You both knew that whatever it was, it was enough to bring you here, to him. 

You hesitated for just a moment, feeling the weight of the years between you. When you were children, there had been no second thoughts, no hesitation. But now, voices were creeping in – but you shoved them aside like his blankets, and climbed into his bed.

When Paul slid into bed beside you, everything felt right again.

The tension in your body melted away as he wrapped an arm around you, pulling you close. You could hear the steady rhythm of his breathing, feel the warmth of his skin against yours, and suddenly, the fear that had gripped you moments ago faded into nothing.

You rested your head against his chest, closing your eyes as the last of your tremors subsided. He was your anchor, your constant in a world that was rapidly spinning out of control.

“Are you okay?” Paul finally asked, his voice soft, almost a whisper.

You nodded against him, but your throat felt tight, your words stuck behind the weight of everything unsaid. The nightmare had shaken you more than you wanted to admit, and it wasn’t just about the dark images in your head. It was the fear of losing Paul, of losing the one person who had been by your side for as long as you could remember.

“I’m glad you came,” Paul said quietly. “I wanted to come to you, but—” He trailed off, his hand tightening slightly on your shoulder as if to ground himself.

“I know,” you whispered, finally finding your voice. “I wanted to come sooner.”

There was a pause, and then, after a long moment, Paul’s thumb began tracing slow circles on your arm, his touch gentle but deliberate. It was a gesture of comfort, of familiarity. 

“I’ll always be here,” he murmured, so softly you almost didn’t hear him. “I swear it.”

You opened your eyes and tilted your head up, meeting his gaze in the dim light. His face was serious, his eyes reflecting the weight of the promise he’d just made. For a brief second, you thought he might say more, something you’d been waiting for but weren’t ready to confront. 

Instead, Paul’s expression softened, and he pressed a kiss to the top of your head, the gesture tender, reassuring. It was something he might have done when you were younger, but now it felt different. It wasn’t just comfort anymore—it was a part of the promise.

Neither of you said anything after that. You simply held each other, letting the quiet settle in. The world outside might have been shifting, changing in ways neither of you could control, but here, in the stillness of the night, there was nothing but you and Paul.

You didn’t know when you fell asleep, only that, for the first time in a long while, you felt safe. And unfortunately, as the next few days would ensure, it was the last time for a long while as well.

***

When Arrakis claimed Duke Leto, it also claimed something inside Paul.

He wasn’t the same after that day. The boy who had been your partner in rebellion, the one who made you laugh even in the darkest of times, had hardened. His grief was silent, buried under layers of duty and survival, but you could see it. It was in the way his hands trembled ever so slightly when he thought no one was looking, the way his eyes had dulled since your arrival on this cursed planet.

In the middle of it all, you felt lost too. You had lost the closest you had to a father figure in Duke Leto, but worse, you were losing Paul—bit by bit, day by day, as he was forced to become someone you struggled to recognise. This was a different kind of nightmare, one you couldn’t wake from.

After growing used to the luxury of Caladan Castle’s beddings, you found yourself huddled with Paul in a small tent in the middle of the desert, the harsh winds of Arrakis howling outside. There was nothing but sand for miles, and for the first time since arriving on this planet, you felt truly untethered from the life you once knew.

Paul sat across from you, his back pressed against the rough fabric of the tent, his face half-shadowed by the faint light from a small glowglobe. His eyes were distant, fixed on something you couldn’t see, something only he could comprehend.

“Paul?” you whispered, your voice trembling despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He didn’t answer at first, but then, slowly, his gaze shifted to you. There was a fragility there that caught you off guard—a vulnerability that reminded you of the boy you used to sneak around the castle with, the one who used to chase away your fears with a single glance.

Without thinking, you moved closer, kneeling in front of him. His breath hitched as you reached out, gently placing one hand on his arm and the other on his cheek. He looked down at your fingers, as if surprised by the touch, before his eyes met yours again.

You wanted to say something, anything at all, to ease his pain. To take some of the burden off his shoulders, even if that meant taking them upon your own. No words felt worthy enough and died in your throat, while the sentiment remained hot on your tongue.

With Arrakis raging around you, you wanted him to feel some sense of security.

“I’m still here,” you whispered, echoing the words he had said to you when you were the one needing the comfort.

For a moment, he just stared at you. Then, with a twitch of his lips, something cracked in his expression, something that had been carefully held in place to keep it all in. Paul’s shoulders sagged, the weight of loss and doom pressing down on him all at once.

He didn’t say anything, but when you shifted closer and pulled him into your arms, he didn’t resist. He simply let you hold him, his head resting against your shoulder, his breath shaky and uneven.

You sat like that for a long time, wrapped in each other’s presence as the storm outside raged on. The world around you was crumbling, but here, in the faux quiet of the tent, there was nothing but the two of you. You didn’t have words for what you were feeling, but it didn’t matter. Paul understood. He always had.

As if the continued touch broke him, Paul made a sound like a tear-less sob, saving water while still drowning in emotion. His arms tightened around you, holding onto you for dear life.

He murmured something against your neck that you couldn’t hear. You made an inquisitive humming sound as you began to stroke his back, coaxing him through his pain.

“I can’t lose you,” he whispered. His voice was raw, it sent ripples through your heart. “Please.”

“You won’t,” you promised, your fingers moving up to card through his hair. “I’m not going anywhere, Paul. I’ll be right here with you.”

If he wanted to answer, he couldn’t. Instead he let himself have this moment before facing a world that seemed increasingly too big.

***

Life among the Fremen was harsh, unforgiving, but the two of you had learned to survive. It had been weeks since you arrived in the sietch, and every day felt like a battle—against the elements, against the constant threat of danger, against the growing distance between you and the boy you grew up with.

The desert night was deceptively cool, the air carrying a sharpness that contrasted with the oppressive heat of the day. You stood just outside the sietch, gazing up at the unfamiliar stars that stretched endlessly above the dunes. The sky was clear—almost too clear—so different from the comforting overcast of Caladan, the gentle crash of waves a memory long lost to the wind. You inhaled deeply, trying to ground yourself, but the vastness of the desert made you feel small. Disconnected.

There were few quiet moments here, and you took a deep breath as you were surrounded by it.

“I thought I’d find you here.” 

There was a shuffle of footsteps behind you, soft but deliberate. Without turning, you of course knew it was Paul. He came up behind you, standing slightly to your left so you could see him in your sideview. You leaned back, resting your shoulder on his own.

You smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “Couldn’t sleep.”

Paul laughed lowly – some things never change. “Neither could I.”

You shook your head, still staring at the stars. “I don’t know if I’ve had a proper night’s sleep since we left Caladan.”

“I miss the rain,” Paul said quietly. “I never thought I would. I used to complain about it when we were kids.”

You smiled faintly. “Don’t lie, you hated being inside when it rained. You’d drag me out into the mud even when it was pouring.”

He let out a soft chuckle. “Well, you never said no.”

“I never could.”

There was a pause, one that carried the weight of the past few months – Arrakis, the loss of Duke Leto, the constant struggle for survival. The two of you had grown so used to moving, fighting, planning for the next step, that there had been no time to sit with your grief. No time to just be, in the way you only can with each other.

“It’s strange, isn’t it?” Paul murmured, glancing at you sideways. “How quickly everything changes. A few months ago, we were on Caladan, complaining about studies, sneaking into each other’s rooms like we always used to... and now–”

“We’re here,” you finished for him, your voice quieter. “In the middle of the desert.”

Paul’s eyes lingered on you for a moment, and you felt the weight of his gaze. You’d been through so much together, seen so much of each other, in ways no one else had. Yet there was still a distance between you now, a hesitation that hadn’t been there when you were younger. 

It was as though you both knew you were standing on the edge of something, but neither of you dared to cross it.

“I was thinking...” Paul started, his voice trailing off. He looked away, frowning slightly as if choosing his words carefully. “Would it be... strange if you stayed with me tonight? Just for comfort, I mean.”

Your heart skipped, somehow caught off guard by the question. There had been so many nights, both as children and as teenagers, where you had found solace in each other’s company. Whether from nightmares, from stress, or simply because being apart felt wrong.

“Not strange, anyone would need a bit of comfort in our situation,” you tried at humour before looking back at him with soft eyes. 

He didn’t say anything, seemingly trapped between his thoughts. Usually when you spend the night together lately it was because of difficult emotions. You open the door for him to talk about his feelings.

“Are you– are you okay?” you asked, searching his face for the answer. 

Paul was always the one holding everything together, always taking on the weight of his responsibilities without complaint. But tonight, standing under the cold desert sky, he seemed tired. Tired in a way that went beyond just sleepless nights.

He didn’t respond right away. Instead, he looked out over the dunes, his expression unreadable, though the subtle tightening of his jaw told you he was wrestling with something.

“I’ve been thinking about my father,” he finally said, his voice thick with the grief he rarely let slip. “About everything he wanted for me. For us. How he wanted me to be a ruler who led with compassion, but how can I...?” He trailed off, swallowing hard, and you could see the battle raging behind his eyes.“I don’t know if I can be what he wanted.”

Your heart ached at his words. You had always known Paul felt the weight of his future, but you hadn’t realised how deeply it cut. Stepping closer, you touched his arm lightly, drawing his attention back to you.

“You already are,” you said softly. “Even in the middle of all this, Paul, you haven’t lost that part of yourself. Your father would see that.”

He exhaled shakily, meeting your gaze, and for a moment, it felt like the world fell away. There was a vulnerability there, one he rarely let show. It made something inside you shift, as though the careful lines you had mentally drawn to protect yourself, to keep things unchanged between you, were suddenly blurring.

“I’m just afraid of losing more,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Of losing everyone I care about. Losing you.”

The words settled heavily in the space between you, a truth that had always lingered but was now undeniable. You were no longer just childhood friends. You were no longer just companions trying to survive. There was a throne in your heart, and on it, Paul was more than just a duke. 

“You won’t lose me,” you said firmly, turning towards him and stepping even closer. “You couldn’t. I’m here, Paul, I’ve always been here.”

Paul stared at you, his expression shifting into something you couldn’t quite place. His eyes softened, the hard edges that had been carved into him by grief and duty melting away, if only for a moment. There was something unspoken in the way he looked at you now, something that had been building for years but had never quite been said aloud.

“You don’t understand,” Paul whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “I can’t lose you. Not just because you’re the last piece of Caladan I have left... but because I—”

He stopped, his throat working as if the words were too hard to say. But you knew what he meant. You’d always known, hadn’t you? 

Paul took a step closer, the last step separating his body from yours. His hand lifted to brush a strand of hair behind your ear, the touch sending a shiver down your spine. His fingers lingered at the base of your neck, and you were sure he could feel the rapid beat of your heart in your pulsepoint. It echoed the weight of what he wasn’t saying. 

“You can say it,” you whispered, your voice trembling, though you weren’t sure if it was from fear or anticipation.

Paul’s breath hitched, and for a moment, he looked like he was on the verge of stepping back, of retreating into that familiar space where he could hide from the truth. But then his palm made contact with the side of your neck, and he leaned in closer, his forehead resting against yours. Breathing in deeply, slowly.

“I love you,” he whispered, the words tumbling out like a secret he had been holding onto for too long. “I have loved you for so long, and I didn’t even realise it. But now, I can’t stop thinking about it. About you.”

Your heart stuttered at the confession, your breath catching in your throat. It wasn’t a declaration shouted from the rooftops, it wasn’t a grand, romantic gesture. It was quiet, real, the kind of love that had grown slowly over years, woven into every shared moment, every laugh, every late-night conversation.

“And I love you,” you whispered back, the words barely audible in the quiet of the desert night. “You’re my best friend, my person. You must know that.”

Paul let out a soft, almost relieved breath, his hand moving up to cup your cheek as he tilted your face up to meet his. There was a question in his eyes, one he didn’t need to ask. You answered it by leaning in, lips barely brushing against his, before he closed the final gap with the gentlest of kisses. He was tentative, as though testing the waters of something new, something fragile but real.

It was a kiss that felt like a promise.

It lingered, even when he pulled back ever so slowly, resting his forehead back against yours. 

You both stood there in the quiet, the weight of the desert and the night around you, but the tension between you finally dissipating through your touches.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” Paul whispered again, his voice steady this time, though the vulnerability was still there, just beneath the surface.

“I will stay with you every night, if that would make you happy.” There was no hesitation in your voice or your heart. Just love.

A smile spread on his face before he pressed it against your lips in another kiss. Searing, caring, passionate. This was the closest you have seen him to his old boyish safe, always happy to bask in your presence.

Letting his hand travel down to find yours, he interlaced your fingers and pulled you back into the sietch.

His room was small, barely big enough for the both of you, a stark contrast to your conditions at Caladan. But as you lay down beside each other, it didn’t matter, you were glad for the excuse to keep him even closer. Paul wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly, and for the first time since Arrakis had stolen everything from you, you felt safe. Safe in the knowledge that whatever came next, whatever trials the desert or the universe had in store, you wouldn’t face them alone.

As you lay in his arms, your head resting against his chest, you whispered, “We’ll get through this, Paul. Together.”

Paul’s grip tightened around you, and you could hear the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear.

“We will,” he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not ever.”

“And I you. No matter what, my love.”

Warmth spread across Paul’s face at the name. He thought, with sleep beginning to cloud his mind, that though there are many uncomfortable changes – that is one he will happily accept. 

For the first time in weeks, you both fell asleep easily, wrapped in the comfort of each other, and the quiet promise of the love that had finally, after all these years, been released into dry air.

[thempregsimmer]

When Alex first found out he was pregnant, it was a surprise, to say the least. He never imagined that he'd be carrying his husband’s child, but the modern world had its share of twists, and he was ready to embrace the journey. One thing he hadn’t considered, though, was how much his lifestyle would need to change to accommodate the growing life inside him. His old car just wasn’t cutting it anymore. The cramped seats, the bumpy rides, the lack of storage for all the things he needed as a soon-to-be father—none of it felt right.

“I wasn’t just buying a car,” Alex explained, “I was buying peace of mind.” The spacious, supportive seats offered him comfort during his increasingly frequent trips to the doctor, and the adjustable ride height made it easier for him to get in and out as his belly grew larger.

“But it’s the smooth ride that really sold me,” he said, rubbing his stomach with a smile. “The new car handles the road like a dream. Every bump, every uneven surface—it smooths them all out. It’s exactly what I needed, especially during the last trimester when comfort is everything.”

And as Alex prepared for fatherhood, the vehicle proved to be more than just a mode of transportation. Its spacious back made carrying supplies—everything from strollers to baby bags—effortless. “This car is really for families,” he added. “I guess, in a way, I’m starting my family a little earlier than expected.”

He chuckled, standing tall next to his car on the beach. It had become more than just a car to him; it was a partner in his journey. “I wouldn’t want to be driving anything else right now,” Alex said. “It’s kept me calm, comfortable, and ready for whatever comes next.”

---

Jordan had always been an adventurer. He loved long drives along rugged coastlines, hiking trips, and spontaneous road trips with friends. But when he found out he was pregnant, he knew his trusty old car wasn’t going to cut it anymore. The baby growing inside him meant his priorities were changing, and he needed a car that could handle both the road and the responsibilities that came with this new chapter in his life.

“I never thought I’d be saying this, but being pregnant has totally shifted how I look at cars,” Jordan said, resting a hand on his growing belly. “I needed something that wasn’t just tough but comfortable too. A new car was the answer.”

Jordan appreciated the space it offered. As his body changed, he found himself needing more room—both for comfort and for all the stuff he was now carrying around. “It’s surprising how much space a guy with a baby bump needs,” he laughed. “But with this car, it’s like I have my own little cocoon. The seats are adjustable, and the back has more than enough room for all the gear I need.”

He pointed to the SUV's off-road tires, grinning. “And don’t get me started on the off-roading capabilities. I might be pregnant, but that doesn’t mean I’ve stopped exploring. This thing has taken me to some of the most beautiful, remote places where I can relax and connect with nature. It’s like I haven’t missed a beat.”

But the biggest surprise for Jordan was how much the car helped with the emotional side of his pregnancy. “Honestly, it’s been a crazy ride—pun intended,” he admitted. “But being in this car makes me feel strong and in control, even when my body is doing its own thing. This pregnancy wasn’t at all planned, it’s a result of one of those passionate dinners that come with breakfast in bed afterwards. However, I’m glad it happened, and that I’m carrying my son inside me now. He’s taking up a lot of space, both in my belly, and in my head. Sometimes I feel like I’m loosing control over my life and body, and I know it’s worth it, but it’s a feeling I have never had before.”

As Jordan leaned against his SUV, he looked out at the horizon. “I know it might sound strange, but this car has given me a sense of freedom. Even with the changes happening in my life, I can still be me. And when my baby comes, I know this car will help us have so many adventures together.”

For Jordan, the car was more than just a vehicle. It was a lifeline to his independence, helping him navigate both the literal and metaphorical roads of pregnancy and beyond.

[veganbutterchicken]

Dementor - September 19th - words: 540 - @wolfstarmicrofic

“Fuck, Pads, what are you doing? Remus asked in a hushed demand as Sirius yanked him by his shirt and pulled him into the nearest broom cupboard.

“I saw Filch on the map a while earlier. I thought he wouldn’t come here, but then I heard footsteps. He was so close, just around the corner,” Sirius said. But Remus didn’t hear anything himself and, out of the two of them, he was the only one with supernatural hearing abilities. “I don’t want to look at him today. He makes my skin crawl.”

“But we have an invisibility cloak!” Remus raised his hands in exasperation — and by doing that, he touched the sides of Sirius’ body, just above his waist. A flicker of electricity went through him. He quickly withdrew his hands, putting them in the pockets of his pants instead. “He wouldn’t have seen us.” They grew a lot since last summer and the cloak was now barely covering their ankles, but Filch was too old to see that.

It was dark, but the mere outline of Sirius’ cocky smile was enough to make Remus go weak in his knees. “What, you don’t like being in the broom cupboard with me?”

Something lurched in his stomach, just slightly, a sensation so insignificant that he almost missed it. Broom cupboards were reserved for shagging, or for snogging at least, and the two of them were friends, only being here to prank Slytherins before tomorrow’s match. They had offered to go alone, because James was playing in the said match tomorrow and he needed all the sleep he could get. And Peter, well, he was worse than Remus’ grandma in that department, always dozing off straight after dinner.

“It’s not like that,” Remus jumped into defence. But it was exactly like that — he wished they could just snog already.

When in one quick movement Sirius got closer, pushing Remus against the wall in the hottest of ways, Remus realised he had said the words out loud. But before his cheeks could go pink and he could scramble a way to make it into a joke, Sirius crashed their mouths together. He had to stand on the tips of his toes to make their heights somewhat even. His hands were on the wall on both sides of Remus’s face.

Remus made a low hum into the kiss. He wasn’t tense anymore, didn’t have to be — it was long after he became sure that none of them were jumping apart. He allowed himself to slacken his jaw. Some cleaning supply was poking him right into his arse, but it didn’t matter.

Sirius, funnily enough, always had the same effect on him as a dementor would, all week knees and dizzy head. But this was worse than a dementor’s kiss, Sirius’ tongue doing all sorts of magical things to him.

When they finally parted, it was with a pant and a little cry from Remus as he mourned the loss. He touched the flesh of his lips, tender and kiss-bitten after god knew how much time they were doing this. Then he looked up at Sirius.

Sirius raised an eyebrow at him. “Can I do it again? And until the rest of my life, please?”

[lilsoftext]

•~* QUITE NIGHT *~•

-chris sturniolo x female reader

---

It was one of those rare nights where there was no stream, no content to create, and no schedule to follow. Chris had wrapped up his day earlier than usual and had been looking forward to a quiet night with Sof. His mind was always buzzing with ideas, streams, and the noise of social media, but tonight, he wanted nothing more than a peaceful evening with her—just the two of them.

Sof, as always, had been busy too. Her work schedule was demanding, and lately, it felt like the two of them were ships passing in the night. But tonight was different. Both had cleared their schedules, and it was just about them.

Chris was in the kitchen, putting the finishing touches on dinner. He wasn’t exactly a master chef, but he could pull together a decent meal when the occasion called for it. Tonight, he’d made one of Sof’s favorites: a simple pasta dish with garlic bread on the side. He knew it wasn’t fancy, but it was the thought that counted.

He glanced at his phone, seeing a text from Sof that she was on her way. A small smile crept across his face as he pictured her walking through the door. He set the table, lit a couple of candles, and dimmed the lights, wanting to create a cozy, relaxing atmosphere. He wasn’t sure when he’d become such a softie, but Sof had a way of bringing out the best in him.

As he was finishing up, the door opened quietly, and Sof stepped inside. She looked tired, but the second her eyes met Chris’s, her face lit up with a warm smile.

“Hey, babe,” she said softly, closing the door behind her and kicking off her shoes.

“Hey, you,” Chris greeted her, walking over to give her a hug. “How was your day?”

Sof let out a sigh as she melted into his embrace. “Long. But seeing you makes it better.”

Chris chuckled, pulling back slightly to look at her. “I made dinner. It’s nothing special, but—”

“It’s perfect,” Sof interrupted, her eyes sparkling. “You know I love anything you make.”

They sat down at the table, chatting about their day as they ate. The conversation was easy and comfortable, like it always was with them. Sof told Chris about her latest project at work, and Chris shared a few funny stories from the day, laughing at how chaotic things had been in his world of content creation. But as they spoke, there was an unspoken understanding between them: tonight was about unwinding and being together.

After dinner, Chris cleared the dishes, insisting that Sof relax for a bit. She curled up on the couch, flipping through the channels on TV while Chris finished up in the kitchen. Once he was done, he joined her, sitting down next to her and pulling her close.

“Movie night?” Chris asked, resting his arm around her shoulders.

Sof nodded, resting her head on his chest. “Sounds perfect.”

They scrolled through the options for a while, debating what to watch. After a few minutes of indecision, they settled on a rom-com—light, funny, and exactly what they needed to take their minds off everything else.

As the movie played, Chris couldn’t help but glance down at Sof every now and then. She looked so peaceful, her eyes focused on the screen, her body relaxed against his. It was moments like these that made him realize just how lucky he was to have her in his life. She balanced him in ways he hadn’t even known he needed.

Halfway through the movie, Sof’s phone buzzed with a notification, and she absentmindedly glanced at it. Chris noticed the brief look of worry that crossed her face, even though she tried to hide it.

“Everything okay?” he asked, gently rubbing her shoulder.

Sof hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s just work stuff. Nothing urgent, but...” She sighed. “It’s hard to switch off sometimes, you know?”

Chris nodded, understanding exactly what she meant. “I get it. But tonight, let’s just relax, okay? The world can wait until tomorrow.”

Sof smiled up at him, her eyes filled with gratitude. “You’re right. I just need to remind myself to slow down sometimes.”

They settled back into the movie, the world outside fading away as they enjoyed the simplicity of being together. There was something comforting about the quiet moments, the ones where nothing needed to be said because everything was already understood.

As the credits rolled, Sof stretched and let out a contented sigh. “That was nice,” she murmured, snuggling closer to Chris. “I feel like I haven’t had a night like this in forever.”

Chris kissed the top of her head. “Well, we can make it a regular thing. You don’t always have to be superwoman, you know?”

Sof laughed softly. “I know. But I like that you think I am.”

“To me, you are,” Chris replied sincerely. “You juggle so much, and you always make time for us. It doesn’t go unnoticed.”

Sof looked up at him, her eyes softening. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

Chris grinned, shrugging. “I just tell the truth.”

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, the only sound being the soft hum of the TV in the background. The night had turned out exactly the way Chris had hoped—simple, peaceful, and full of love.

Eventually, Sof sat up and stretched, looking around the cozy living room. “You really went all out tonight, huh? The candles, the dinner... It was perfect.”

Chris smiled, leaning back on the couch. “I just wanted to make sure you had a relaxing night. You deserve it.”

Sof looked at him for a moment, then leaned in and kissed him softly. “Thank you. For everything.”

Chris smiled against her lips. “Anytime.”

They stayed up for a little while longer, talking about nothing and everything, enjoying the warmth of each other’s company. By the time they finally headed to bed, Chris felt a sense of calm that he hadn’t felt in a long time. And as he drifted off to sleep with Sof by his side, he knew that these were the moments that truly mattered.

It wasn’t the streams, the followers, or the content that defined his life—it was nights like this, where he could just be himself with the person who made him happiest. And in that quiet, peaceful moment, everything felt right in the world.

---

[lalasworld2x]

Taking Care of Brahms’ Wounds

Brahms Heelshire Oneshot

You often spent an hour or a few in the afternoon reading, and that is exactly what you were doing when a soft knock sounded just above your head. You turned around and gazed at the full body mirror attached to the wall adjacent to the bed. The mirror rattled lightly before being gently pushed to the side, a hand wrapping its fingers around the metallic runes of a mirror frame.

This was your and Brahms’ passage way between the house and the walls. It hadn’t been long since he first presented himself to you, so he still wasn’t totally comfortable leaving his safe spots. His head poked through the wall, his eyes glinting with tears behind the broken mask. Immediately you stood up and briskly walked towards him.

“Oh Brahms, what’s happened? Why do you look so upset?”

He climbed through the wall and used his non-dominant hand to ease the mirror back into place. You took his right hand into yours and gasped, blood splotching everywhere. The skin was red and puffy, and he winced every time his fingers twitched.

“How did this even happen?”

He shrugged. So useful.

“Okay… So what did you cut yourself on? Metal? Glass? Plastic? What?” You guided him out of the room and safely down the stairs. It took him a while to answer. That could’ve meant he was trying to think of the right thing to say, or he was summoning a lie.

“Porcelain,” he spoke quietly, his voice slightly muffled under the material. Standing at the kitchen sink, he placed his fingers under the tap and you turned the water onto a warm temperature. He slowly eased his hand under the stream, his hand jolting in discomfort. “You cut your hand on the mask? It doesn’t look that sharp. Were you running around with it or something?”

That was your attempt to make some humour or light of the situation. You very much didn’t believe him. The cut wasn’t too deep, but it was certainly a concern. You sat him down at the dining room table and raced for the first aid kit in the kitchen cabinets. He shrugged his shoulders and sighed.

You took out a disinfectant cream and spread the cold substance just around the cut. Brahms jerked his hand away but you were quick to pull it right back. He huffed in anguish. Clearly this wasn’t the only thing upsetting him. “Chill out, I’m helping you.”

You quickly wrapped a bandage around his coarse palms and stapled it off with clips. He flexed his hand with a mesmerised look in his eyes, admiring the love that may or may not have been put into that procedure. He still doesn’t fully read social cues or facial expressions, but at this point just let him believe what he wants.

You slumped back in your seat, smiling softly. “Soooo. What actually happened? It definitely wasn’t your mask.”

He rolled his eyes and rested his chin on his free hand, his elbow creaking into the mahogany table. “I was angry,” his voice was gruff and deep. You nodded, remembering the little argument you had earlier.

You told him that if he wanted to practice proper hygiene, he would need to start showering daily, or at least every 2-3 days. You even offered to let him shower with you so he wouldn’t have to be alone the whole time. But being told what to do must have really pissed him off. Maybe you had been bossing him around too much lately.

“So, out of anger, you broke something? What did you break?”

He gulped. His face shied away as he muttered something. You leaned closer, grinning. “Sorry bub, what was that?”

“The mirror!” he growled in a hushed voice.

He was talking about the vanity mirror in his hide out spot. It was taken out of his mother’s room after her deliberate passing. Your heart broke for him. To comfort him, you opened your arms for a hug and he leaned forward. Your hands wrapped around him and rubbed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, I’ll buy you a new one. Just like it, as if it never left.”

His posture loosened in your embrace as you said that - he knew you meant it.

“Do you want me to kiss your hand to make the pain feel better?” His face lifted and you watched the smile appear in his eyes as he chuckled. You brought his bandages hand to your lips and kissed all over his knuckles and fingers and the back and palm of his hand. The skin was soft yet gravelly; somehow warm and cold at the same time.

You both say there for a little while, just sort of hugging it out. Moments like these weren’t too common, but that never made them uncomfortable memories.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Masterlist

[anarchypumpkincowboy]

Sometimes you gotta just turn on a couple funky projector lights, pack a bowl, and badly dance around your room to King Charles and Greta Van Fleet while wearing a banjo playing raccoon and washboard playing weasel shirt and boxers for euphoria

[ebongawk]

.

[heavenbarnes]

hmm thinking about older bf!simon who hasn’t really got his head around the whole sexting thing- the man had a flip phone before he met you.

he had, however, reluctantly gone out and got an android after a harmless conversation between the two of you.

“how am i meant to send you videos while you’re away if you have a flip phone, si?”

“videos of what?”

“guess.”

he virtually only uses the thing to get texts, calls, and videos of you fucking yourself in your shared bed whilst he’s deployed. he saves every video, which is a risky manoeuvre considering you haven’t taught him how to set a passcode yet (johnny catches a not-unwelcome eyeful when he goes looking for the directions he sent simon earlier)

older bf!simon is also a fantastic listener, when you tell him you want him to send pics but not ones that make his cock look like a dead fish. you give him strict instructions:

put your phone on self-timer, sit back, thighs spread, one hand around your cock, the other behind your head, you choose if your face is in it xox

man loves an order.

so whilst he’s away, you’re in the kitchen cooking up dinner-for-one and your phone buzzes on the counter- you drop the fucking pasta strainer straight on the floor when you unlock your phone.

simon’s face wasn’t necessarily in the photo, more so his mask. he was fully dressed, tactical gear (down to the vest) still on with a rifle leaning against his thigh. he was in the exact position you’d request, gloved fingers wrapped around the base of him with his other bicep firm behind his head.

you’re so busy saving the photo and staring back at it 100,000 times that you forget to respond. honestly, you forget how to function as your mouth goes dry and your eyes are unable to look at anything else.

simon hesitates on the other end, wondering if he’d fucked up- if he hadn’t followed the brief, if he’d embarrassed himself. thankfully, he knows he only has to ask.

“that what you were after, pet?”

the trepidation in his chest is replaced with a rapidly inflating ego.

“jesus christ, that’s exactly what i needed”

swapped out with slight confusion, but the ever present willingness to learn.

“you ever heard of a nut video with sound on?”

pt2

[yoohyeon]

Some random user liked a post of me complaining about my neighbours earlier and f that user cause why are my neighbours playing music and screaming at pass 3am out of a sudden it’s like they predicted it

[biteyoubiteme]

pretty boy; bloody nose

fem!reader x bangchan 

synopsis: you're a doctor at a hospital where Chan comes after a fight. 

warnings: 🔞!!! boxer!chan, blood, broken bones, bruises, praise, unprotected sex, creampie, thigh riding if you squint, 'pretty girl' used once, choking (m!rec), prob forgot some sorry

wc: 4k

an: all the photos of chan at or for the Fendi show have me gagged lol feedback is appreciated!! :)) [m.list] check out my other chan fic :)) [am/pm]

It was your starting shift when Chan came in. clutching his bloody nose with one bruised hand and pressing his other one to his wounded side. “my savior,” he smiled, dimpled cheek prominent even through the pain. He had blood in his mouth, teeth tinted pink with it. 

“Someone had a good night,” you laugh flipping open his chart, “says some minor pain but you seem to have lied seeing as you are currently bleeding right in front of me and you didn’t log it,” 

“my nose is fine, it was checked out by my coach, it should stop bleeding soon,” the rag he has to his face soaked through with red. “and I’m not a liar it’s only a bit painful and I wouldn’t have come in if I wasn’t contractually supposed to,” 

“uh huh,” you nod, tapping your pen against the clipboard you held. “So your nose doesn’t need to be set because your coach, who may or may not have any medical background, said so?” 

his smile widened and the cut on his eyebrow started to leak again from the movement. “exactly,”

“and I don’t need to see what you’re hiding right there,” you point with your pen to his fingers cupping his hip. 

“nope, I’m mainly a bit sore around the arms, so minor pain. I am not a liar,” he shrugs and you let yourself fully take him in past his injuries. He's slouched back against the hospital bed, his white tank splattered with his blood, gray sweatpants slouchy on his hips. if you could see his whole face without his hand in the way you’re sure he’s gorgeous essentially with a smile like that. what you didn’t like was to watch someone's cocky ass waltz in and say they aren’t hurt when it’s obvious they are. 

“well I am also contractually obligated to give you the best care I can offer and as your doctor, I’m here to say I can’t let you go without an exam,” 

“full body?” his tongue running across his teeth as you roll your eyes. it wasn’t exactly professional to let your annoyance show but you didn’t think he would run and tell someone. 

“let's start with your nose,” you turn placing your clipboard down and picking up a pair of gloves, “lean your head back,” 

Chan follows your orders as you walk around the bed to his side. 

“How did you end up here?” you ask, lifting the rag from his face. His nose wasn’t bleeding as much as it must have been earlier but it was still messy. And even with blood smeared all over, he was one of the most beautiful people you’ve ever seen especially as he grinned up at you. 

“fighting,” he shrugs. 

“Is this the part where you tell me that I should see the other guy?” you reach over to grab some clean gauze before cleaning up his upper lip. 

“Maybe,” he dragged out the word, the smile as flirty as ever.  

you lightly press your finger to his nose to check if it’s broken but only feel a little swelling. “keep your head back to stop the bleeding. let's now see your side and then we will tape up your eyebrow,” 

“I’m perfectly fine,” 

“Not unless I say you are, come on let me see,” 

Chan is slow to lift his shirt but when he does his side is covered in deep purple bruises. “you're going in for a CT,” 

“what? no, I'm fine it was a few hits nothing I haven't felt before,” 

“better safe than sorry I'm sure you've heard that saying before. next time don't go getting into fights,” 

“It's kinda my job,” 

“pretty boys like you shouldn't be fighters, and they shouldn't be putting their perfectly healthy bodies in distress, we need to check for any internal bleeding,” you peel your gloves off tossing them in the bin along with any bloodied gauze, chan's head still laid back as he watches you, “a nurse will be in to take care of your eyebrow and take you for the CT,” you pick up his chart, penning in the request. 

“You're not going to take me?” 

“I'll be back in to discuss the results it shouldn't be too long a wait it's slow tonight,” you didn't look up from his chart as you said it but you did when he said, “I want you to take me,” it's not suggestive in any way but the way that he says it is, deep and throaty like an invitation. his head lobbed to one side watching you, eyes leaving a trail of heat up your body as they trace your figure. 

“I will see you after your results come back,” you say, rushing to get out as fast as possible. it was frowned upon to flirt with patients no matter how hot they looked or how willing they seemed to flirt back. you went on your rounds before getting Chan's results, the nurse bringing them to you with a smile. 

“he will not stop talking about you,” 

“What?” but you can feel your heart thumping all of a sudden. 

“asking questions and whatnot,” she giggles as you pull out his scans. “Does she usually work Thursdays? Is she seeing someone? going on and on,” 

“about me?” You're a little shocked but trying to play it off. 

“if you don't give him your number I will hand mine over,” 

“We cannot give our numbers out to patients,” but your blush is hot on your face. who would know you gave him your number? no one. “we will both be out shortly please have his discharge paperwork ready,” 

“Should I put your number on it?” she jokes and you roll your eyes before pushing his room door open. 

“no internal bleeding,” you say once you close the door. “but you should ice your side the swelling will go down soon,” 

“I told you nothing was wrong, he couldn’t hit hard enough to cause internal bleeding anyways,” Chans sitting up now with his legs off the bed. 

“you should be getting checked regularly for damage that is visible, especially if you have pain,” 

“It was only a little pain,” he rolls his shoulders back making his tank top stick to his pecks. 

“you should take an over the counter pain med and then try to avoid fighting,” 

“Now where’s the fun in that? if I hadn’t been sent here I wouldn’t have met you,” dimples on display just for you. 

“uh huh sure,” you wave at him to stand, “Let's get you out of here before you steal the hearts of the nurses,” 

“the only heart I’m interested in is yours,” it’s cheesy but you can’t help the smile it gives you. “Let's go,” you laugh, pulling open the door for him. when he walks out he turns to face you moving backwards. 

“if I got into another fight would I be able to ask for you specifically or would you need to give me a number to hold onto just in case?” 

“flirty and shameless,” you say, walking him to the front desk to check out. 

“that did not answer my question,” 

“I’m sure you could find me in the hospital directory if you looked hard enough,”

“and if you’re not working? will it go straight to voicemail or will I somehow be able to get you over to take care of me?” 

“for someone who didn’t need my help at all for his little bit of pain, he sure is worried for his safety now,” 

“I was told by a gorgeous doctor that I should be concerned with putting my perfect body and pretty face in the line of fire,” 

“I said you had a perfectly healthy body,” you shake your head at him.

“You did say my face was pretty tough,” he leans against the desk elbow propped up to the perfect height to flex. “And I'm sure I can show you how perfect my body can be,” 

“goodbye Chan,” you wave your fingers in his direction walking away before you embarrass yourself in front of your coworkers. 

-

It's only a week later when you see Chan's chart in front of you again. “This one was asking for you by name,” the nurse comments. 

“of course he was,” but even as you say the words you can't help but feel the fluttering in your stomach. most people who came in you didn't see again and if they flirted you were happy to see them gone but Chan wasn't making you feel that way. 

he was alone in his room when you went in. laid out on the bed with his hand to his nose. It was like deja vu only now his tank was black instead of white. blood dripping down to his lips that smile directed at your heart. his eyebrow looked better but was still slightly discolored from last week. 

“I think this time it's broken,” but he's not showing any pain if it's the truth.

“your nose again? you’re too pretty to be taking punches to the face,” you pull on a pair of gloves walking over to inspect him. 

“That's why they do it, they are jealous,” he lifts away the gauze the nurse must have given him. 

His nose is clearly broken and needs to be set. you press your finger lightly to the bridge checking out the bone. Chan's eyes flutter shut and he lets out a weak moan, so soft that you probably wouldn't have heard it if you weren't so close to his face. you try to ignore the sound feeling along his cheekbones but when you press to the corner of his eye he lets out another soft whine. 

“I'm going to have to reset it,” you say pulling your hands away from him, “you can set up an appointment-“

“can't you just do it now? I don't think I'll need all the fuss of local anesthetic i think I can handle it,” 

“It's going to hurt,”

“it didn't hurt much when I was hit I'm sure it won't be too bad the other way around,” 

“You know it's okay to admit when it's painful,” you say, prodding again at his nose, he gives another soft moan at the touch, shifting his hips and leaning further back. 

“I like it, so even when it's a little painful I don't mind,” 

you move to grab a splint for his nose before preparing him, “I'll be quick so you shouldn't feel much but it will still hurt,” this wasn't the first time you've had to fix someone's broken nose but it would be the first time you were worried about messing up someone's face. you had full trust in your abilities but your anxiety was not helping. 

Chan crossed his arms nodding before you pressed the heel of your palm to his nose, “Deep breath,” he followed your instructions and without warning you reset his nose. He flinched knuckles bleached from holding on so tight to himself, moaning as you pulled your hands back. you grabbed the split to finish the job, “see quick and easy,” his voice thick before he clears it. “I think I need a minute,” 

“I can get something for the pain real fast,” you say tugging off your gloves already moving to get the meds. 

“no no I don't need that, I just need a second,” his head is leaned back, throat exposed, arms still crossed while he shifts his hips again drawing your attention to his waist. you can clearly see the outline of his hard bulge through his gray sweatpants. 

“Oh!” you turn around fast to try and give him some form of privacy feeling your face get hot. “I um- I'll just-“ you cut yourself off picking up his chart and moving to the door.  you close the door as he tries to say something but you’re already down the hall trying not to think about what you saw. you don’t really care it’s not the first time you’ve seen someone turned on in the hospital although all the other times you rolled your eyes. Now you’re stuttering and trying not to think of Chan in a way that could get you into trouble. 

but it’s all you can think about.  

how long would he need? would he be actively trying to get rid of his problem mentally or physically? what would have happened if you had stayed? would it have been beyond awkward or would you officially have to resign for having sex while on shift? 

you give Chan's chart to another doctor to check over your work and send him off. you didn’t want to go in and embarrass him or embarrass yourself for that matter. so you hid like a coward. 

-

it was a rare night off for you and you took the opportunity to spend it with your old friends. 

at a nightclub on a busy strip downtown your friends decide to bar hop. you had a late shift tomorrow anyway and didn’t care about sleeping in. At the third bar, your friend's boyfriend starts talking about a fight happening across the street. “the guy's undefeated I swear I just wanna see the end,” 

“If you’re dragging us along you’re paying the entrance fee,” your friend says before another pipes up, “and a drink each!” 

“Fine, fine let’s go, it's already started!” all of you rush across the street joining the moving queue as people file into the building. 

You can hear the cheering already, the announcer shouting over the speakers, your shoes sticking to the floor as if you were still at the bar. but this is far from it, people are jostling each other around, and the seats all first come already full. it’s not until you’re making your way up the steps of the bleachers that you see who’s in the ring. 

Chan is shirtless and glistening with sweat, hair stuck down across his forehead, lip bleeding around his mouth guard. muscles rippling as he delivers a blow to his opponent. 

you’re almost shocked still and unmoving in your walk up to a seat. someone behind you tries to move past you and you stumble, unaware of your surroundings. 

Chan doesn’t know why he looks up because he always tries to focus solely on the person in front of him determined to beat him. but he does let his eyes flicker up to the stands to see you apologizing to someone moving past you. He's caught off guard by your presence and the right hook that makes his head snap away from you. 

the crowd shouts in disapproval as you take your seat. Chan is now bleeding from his nose like every other time you’ve seen him. The droplets of blood fell to his toned stomach each breath pushing the trail of blood further down. 

you’ve never been into fighting, not watching or participating but now you’re fully invested. you don’t even want a drink when your friends ask if you need anything. your eyes follow Chan as he delivers hit after hit to the man in front of him. and when they call a winner you’re up out of

your seat cheering along with the rest of the watchers. 

“omg is he looking at us? I swear he’s looking right at us,” your friend laughs next to you. 

Chan is in fact looking up the stands at you. That dimpled smile on full display after he’s taken his mouth guard out. when he sees you looking back he mouths ‘Wait for me’ and you’re putty. you don’t even try to think that he could have been talking to someone else because you’re delusional enough not to give a fuck. 

when you make it down to where Chan is signing autographs you’re a little nervous after how you left things. but that goes away when he grins, split lip reopening. “my favorite medical professional,” 

“I thought I warned you not to get your pretty face in the way of someone’s fist?” 

“How else am I supposed to see you if I don’t come in needing your assistance?”  

the crowd around you is clearing and you’ve already told your friends not to wait on you so when Chan asks, “Can we talk?” nodding his head in the direction of the locker rooms, you don’t turn him down. 

He leads you to the hallway just out of the way from everyone else. “I wanted to apologize for the last time I saw you,”

“no no, I should apologize I shouldn’t have given you someone else to work with,”

“no really I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable I swear I was trying really hard not to have any kind of reaction I just-“

“It's okay truly I wasn’t uncomfortable it’s natural although I've never reset someone’s bones and had that happen-“

“I'm sorry,” he chuckles, rubbing at the back of his neck, arm flexing and you realize he’s still shirtless. all finely toned muscles on display the damp towel used to wipe away any blood and sweat thrown over his shoulder. but a spot of blood had been missed right at the band of his shorts. without thinking you reached out to brush it away with your thumb. 

Chan and you stood frozen, his breath shallow as he watched your finger wipe at his skin just low enough to send a shiver down his spine. 

“Are you doing anything else tonight?” he asks when you pull away. 

“you were just in a fight and you still want to go out?” 

“with you? yes. With anyone else? no,” you’re standing close together and when someone walks past to reach the locker room door Chan moves in blocking you against the wall. your hand comes up and rests on his ribs, his bruises gone from his first visit only now to be replaced with fresh ones. 

he’s leaning down close to you as another person moves around you two to enter the locker room. Chan's breath fanning your ear before he whispers, “We don’t have to go out, we could stay in…” 

he technically was not your patient, you weren’t at work and you weren’t obligated to deny yourself anymore. not when Chan was standing here willing and you were wet from just watching him win his match. 

“Okay,” your voice was low and weak but all the confirmation Chan needed to pull you along after him. 

past the locker rooms are a few offices and Chan knows there’s a secluded restroom right by there. you don’t even think twice as he shuts the door behind you locking it. you’re both on each other the second Chan turns around. hot and heavy kisses down your neck and over your collar as Chan palms your ass over your short skirt. your hands tugging at his hair but not the way Chan likes, “harder,” he breathes between kisses, “I want it to hurt,” and when you do his moan is music to your ears. 

Chan walks you back into the wall pressing you against the tile next to the sink. 

“When I thought about fucking you I never imagined you dressed like this,” Chan lifts your leg to his hip, hot hand running under your thigh and up under your skirt. 

“disappointed we can’t play doctor?” 

“I don’t care as long as I finally get to have you,” Chan's free hand slides up under

your shirt palming you over your bra. his mouth is back on yours as he wedges his knee between your legs. his thigh placed right against your clothed clit. 

Chan's hand fits right in the pit between your hip and thigh, fingers digging in as he pulls you forward on his thigh. 

your hips start to move against him, moaning into his mouth as you rock back and forth against him. “My pretty girl wants me so bad,” he breathes, planting kisses down your jaw. “I can already feel how wet you are for me,” 

with anyone else you would have been embarrassed about how needy you were but you didn’t care with Chan. not when he had been on your mind for weeks now, when every time you got off recently you had been imagining Chan's fingers doing the job instead of your own. 

Chan taps your other leg muttering, “Jump,” and you follow his orders, Chan moving to set you down on the sink’s countertop. He pulls away, hooking his fingers in your panties and tugging them down your legs. He stays on his knees leaning over to kiss you on your inner thigh. you tug off your shirt tossing it on the counter next to you. 

you cup Chan's jaw letting your thumb run over his bruised bottom lip, your finger moves over his nose brushing down the slope. Chan's smile is lazy, his gaze pouring over you. “you’re healing nicely,” 

“to have your hands all over me I’d make a million more visits, and,” he lifts himself until his lips are brushing yours, “I love the pain,” 

you slip your hand into the waistband of Chan's shorts wrapping your fingers around his stiff length. He moans loudly against your cheek as you stroke him. Chan's hand pushes under your skirt pressing his thumb into your clit, circling slowly. 

“I can’t wait anymore,” Chan grunts pushing your skirt up higher around your hips, dragging you closer to the edge of the counter before you remove your hands from his already leaking cock. 

Chan pushes down his pants to free himself before he’s lining up with your entrance. 

he doesn’t hesitate to thrust in fully pressing his pelvis to yours. both of you moan out your arms wrapping around his shoulders. chan inches out before slowly pushing back in. You whine, laying your head back until it’s laid against the mirror. 

you wrap one of your hands around Chan's neck, “is this okay?” 

Chan nods, “Harder please harder,” you squeeze enough to make his eyes flutter, the same way they had when you were back in the hospital fixing his nose, his hips finally picking up pace. every drag of his cock makes a bolt travel down from your spine to your knees. your back arching, Chan drags his teeth down your throat. 

your free hand scratches down Chan's back and you move your hips to meet his, trying to build any friction. 

“you feel so deep,” your voice not sounding like you as Chan angels himself up brushing against your g-spot. your legs wrapped around him shake at the contact, your walls squeezing around his cock. 

“I wanna hear you cum for me,” Chan moves his fingers between you rubbing your clit until you see spots, knowing exactly what you needed. 

Chan picks up his thrusting pace, punishing you with his cock, tip pressed right against the deepest part of you. “cum inside me please,” you beg, your nails usually nicely kept for work scratching him like they weren’t shortened. 

His thrusts falter at your words, his moan in your hair loud and echoing in the small room. “please I want it, I want to feel it,” your fingers around his throat give a squeeze and Chan knows he won’t be able to deny you.  

with a few sloppy thrusts, Chan is coming hard enough that his upper half gives out, laying on you. your hands leaving his throat and twisting in his hair as he shoots out ropes of hot cum inside you, hips jerking. 

The feeling of his release and his fingers on your clit send you over the edge, your legs locking around him as you cry out his name. Chan's slow thrusts help you ride out your high. both of you panting arms wrapped around each other not wanting to let the other go. 

clarity starts to set in as you catch your breath, your hair sticking to the back of

your neck. chan pulls out, the slick sound making you pulse around nothing. Chan watches as your combined cum slides out. He lifts your leg under your thigh using his thumb to spread your pussy lips apart watching as more comes out. “Next time I’m at the hospital I won't be able to forget this,” he drags his thumb up to your clit making you jump. spreading the slick around, “I might even ask for you to treat me this well again,” 

[inupibaldspot]

Wingman ain’t subtle.

Paring: Gojo Satoru x reader

Note ₊˚⊹♡ : This takes place when Gojo and the rest are students and you are one year senior/older than them

Gojo thinks today is a bad day.

“y/n-senpai apparently only dates guys older than her” Shoko says she sucks the drink from the straw. As much as she’d like to be smoking, it wasn’t allowed on campus.

The lollipop in Gojo’s mouth falls to the ground which makes Geto snort.

“Sucks to you Satoru.” He comments. “If only you were born a year or two before you’d have a chance.”

Gojo winches as he looks over to Shoko with eyes pleading that she was lying “For real?”

“Yeah.” Shoko and you shared being gifted with Reverse Cursed Technique so they’d spend a lot of time training together so the two were close.

Ever since he learned that fact, Gojo had Shoko be his wing man on learning to be and also learn about your type. She was hesitant at fist but oh boy! Gojo was so hopelessly in love with you she kinda felt bad. Shoko adds. “She thinks older guy make her feel protected.”

Gojo huffs, his stomach churns with jealousy. “I’m literally the strongest…” who else would you need to feel protected?

To add on the fact that learning about him having no chance with you because of the year he was born — ‘Satoru was spawn killed.’ Geto would add— he and his classmates had forgotten to put up a veil during a mission which triggered Yaga’s, their teacher in charge, wrath.

Yaga takes in a deep breath“How many times do I have to tell you to put up a veil ?!”

Gojo really couldn’t careless as his teacher yaps away and probably neither did both of his two friends. He could see Geto nod at times as if acting like he was taking Yaga’s word to heart and with Shoko dozing off with her eyes open.

He does his best to fight back a yawn as something suddenly grabs his attention. You. His eyes trail to you ,who was a year senior to him, walking along the hallway, revealed by the long strip of windows between the classroom and hall. Gojo thinks you’re the loveliest piece of existence in the planet as you gently tug a piece of hair behind as you talk with Utahime.

Feeling a piercing gaze — or maybe it was Yaga’s shouts— you look over inside the class as meet your eyes with beautiful vibrant blue ones of your junior, Gojo Satoru’s.

When you give him a smile and a small wave, you weren’t expecting him to straight up beam at your direction and full on wave as if a kid would wave at an airplane passing by.

Of course this angered Yaga further as a nerve pops on his forehead and hands clenched. “Pay attention, Satoru!” He swings his fist at the boy.

The impact of his teacher’s fist on him sends him flying. If he weren’t such a good student he would have actually used his limitless to block such hits but alas— it may not look like it but he was. “Sensei—! Hitting your students should be against the law.”

He sees Geto sent him an amused smirk and Shoko,who finally woke up, trying to figure out what was happening and to his horror, you were giggling at him. Not many things can make Gojo feel embarrassed but his crush laughing at him when he got hit was one of it.

Yup-! That’s exactly what he needed; his crushing laughing as he gets beat up and lectured by his teacher. His day was going fan-tas-tic!

The day goes on with with the remaining classes. Evening classes were usually training so Shoko was in infirmary with Gojo and Geto on the training grounds but one thing bother Gojo was that the ‘hit’ from Yaga earlier did leave an impact. The back of his head a aching and even made him jump when Geto applied the slightest bit of pressure.

Call him dramatic but he didn’t want the ache to go on further so there he was on his way to the infirmary. He really needed Shoko to patch him up.

He slides the door open as he starts to complain. “Shoko heal me up. Yaga’s hit really did some damage on me”

“You’re hurt?”

Hearing a voice which wasn’t Shoko’s and with almost a magic like ability to make his heart race grabbed his attention. He turns to see you who was near the storage cabinet as if you were arranging something.

“I- uhh…” Suddenly his throat constricted and he couldn’t speak. His face heats up as you tilt your head waiting for an answer as he clears his throat. “Just a bit, y/n.”

“Shoko is out though. She got called to assist in a mission. ” You smile as you sit on a near by chair, pulling another chair beside.

You smile at him as you pat the chair beside yours indicating him to sit down there which makes him tense up slightly but he does as told. “Also you should be calling me ‘senpai’. Utahime-senpai was complaining that youth these days have no manner.”

You laugh. “Now tell me where you’re hurt.”

He sits beside you as he tilts his head and points at his sore spot. “Here.”

Gojo watches you raise your hand and inspect his heat, the places where your fingers grazes heats up which makes him gulp deeply. You laugh as you see a swelling on his head. “Wow- Sensei really did hit you hard…”

The white haired boy relaxes as he he feels the calming sensation on his head which means you were using your technique of healing him. “Does age really matter that much?”

You hum as if thinking through your answer. “Of course. Even a year older means you’ve been in this world for a year longer. That in itself is commendable enough.”

“I heard from Shoko that you like guys older…” Gojo says no longer trying to contain the jealousy in his voice. “Is it because of the same reason?”

Gojo watches your eyes widen and blink in confusion; he thinks any expression you make is so so adorable. You then proceed to giggle. “Just because I dated people who are older than me doesn’t mean I have a type.”

Damn that Shoko probably messed around with her wording. Gojo curses as the girl made it seem you would only date guys older than her.

“For example…” You hum as you bring your finger up to your lips. “Right now I like a guy who is younger than me who never respects his elder.”

Hearing her words, every restrain in his body breaks free and Gojo stands up from his seat ; before he knows it his lips are on yours. He hold your face in place, cupping both side of his cheeks.

Gojo kisses you. Your lips are softer than he imagined it to be and when you let out a small moan he deepens it, stronger and desperate as if trying to memorize every inch of you.

He brings one of his hands to the back of your head, as he runs his hands through your hair. His lips keep moving as if he had lost his mind; deep and urgent as if he couldn’t waste a single second.

Out of breath, he pulls away and looks at you who was breathing heavily and lips slightly plump from his desperate tugs and bites. He watches the same lips curl into a smile as you give him a teasing smile. “Also tell Shoko to quit being your wing man,Satoru. She isn’t quite subtle about it.”

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