#MR. PAST THERAPIST

[selvepnea]

My Skin

MYSKINMYSKINMYSKIN

[connanro]

batman: the knight #1

[martyrbat]

detective comics #370

(ID in alt!)

[rainrot4me]

Return The Favor

Summary: Stumbling in on your neighbor’s chopped up body, an unlikely friendship forms between you and Toby. Striking a deal, you agree to help the killer and his friends, buying them necessary prescriptions. But when one visit turns to multiple, Toby becomes curious, finding a not so subtle love note hidden away.

Characters: Ticci Toby x Female Reader

SMUT WARNING MINORS DNI

TW: Mentions of death, explicit description of a dismembered body, decomposition, death, gore, obsession, vomit, throwing up, blood (non-sexual), blood (sexual), vaginal fingering, degradation, biting, overstimulation, squirting, creampie, vaginal, choking, gagging, somnophilia, rough, Toby literally goes insane about you, virginity kink, first time, desperation

Words: 9.4k

A/N: This shit long asl I'm so sorry... Characters in this story are not canonical!

It’s said that when there’s a dead body nearby, your body can sense it before your brain can. 

It’s almost like instinct, a survival nature programmed into your brain. It’ll start with goosebumps and chills running all over your body as if you were being watched, this uncomfortable sensation that you just can’t rationalize. Then the anxiety sets in, body aching and sweating for no apparent reason but it just knows there’s something wrong. 

Finally, when you’ve finally choked it up to just being your imagination, that’s when you’ll smell it. Throat instantly closing and nostrils flaring at the putrid stench of rot and gore. It’s incomparable, no amount of food poisoning or disease compares to the sickness you feel in your stomach at the smell of a human body decomposing. Every instinct in your body pleading and begging you to get out of there, run as far away until you can’t breathe anymore. 

You would know. And it seemed like the boy huddled in front of you did too. 

There was no real reason for you to even be in this house in the first place, but your all-too-good heart guilted you into it. You had just come home from work, mind tired and body sleepy as you unlocked your front door, tossing your bag onto the kitchen table inside. It was well past midnight, the diner you worked at closing way later than normal, but at least you made some good tips. 

Sliding into your bedroom, you changed into more comfortable clothes, tying your hair back before stepping into your kitchen. You gripped the tiny journal lying on the counter, cracking the worn pages open to where you left off, scribbling your thoughts onto the paper. It was your nightly routine, journaling things you saw or did, a coping mechanism suggested by your therapist. It wasn’t for anything intensive, just minor anxiety and self-image problems, always having negative thoughts about yourself. It helped. Glancing up, you looked through the tiny window above your sink, a clear view of your neighbor’s back porch, Mr. Higgs, an older man who made it very difficult to be friendly. He was a hateful guy, always nitpicking your choice of decorations or specific outfits he didn’t find appropriate. A real sweetheart, obviously. 

But compared to his usual eight PM lights out, the living room lamp was still bright, shining directly through his open back porch door. That was odd. As long as you had known this guy, it wasn’t like him to be up this late, let alone be outside. Every instinct told you to just clean up and go to bed, his angry ass probably scooting off a raccoon or something. But you just couldn’t pass up that nagging feeling, your kindheartedness overpowering you. So, sighing, you tossed a hoodie on and slid out your back door, stepping down the porch steps into the cool grass.

You flinched as a flash of brown passed your vision, small and thin against the dark grass. Cooing, you kneeled down, holding your fingers out as Mr. Higg’s old cat, Addy, sniffed the air around you, pressing against your bare legs as she purred. The man was way too protective of his cat. Something was definitely wrong.

Standing again, Addy pranced away, meowing loudly behind you as your bare feet became wet against the midnight dew, grass sticking to your ankles as you walked, arms hugging yourself against the cold. This would probably just end with you getting told to mind your business and stomping back to bed upset, but it was the thought that counted. Gripping onto the porch rail, you stepped up his creaky wooden porch, knocking against the wooden frame of the open door.

“Mr. Higgs? Everything alright?” You called into the room, refusing to go in. There was no response, you knocked again after a couple of seconds. Still nothing. You gulped, rubbing your arms against your sides, nerves wracking you. “Okay. I’m coming in. Don’t get mad 'cause you didn’t answer me.” You called again, pressing past the door and wiping your wet feet on the welcome mat. 

The house was quiet, the only light being the lamp sat on a coffee table adjacent to the old couch. All the furniture had an older look like something out of the eighties, it made you cringe. “Mr. Higgs, are you home?” You shouted down the dark hallway, all the doors shut except for one at the end which you assumed to be his room. Hugging yourself, your legs felt anxious, your mind racing with all the reasons you shouldn’t walk down there. There was no reason for it, this was all just probably some old guy who forgot to shut his door, but you just couldn’t shake the feeling.

Taking a step down the hallway, that’s when it started. Those feelings, like your body can feel shouldn’t be there. The air suddenly grew thick, a nauseating feeling setting in against your chest, pressing down like a conscious weight. But you shook it off, telling yourself it was just you scaring yourself with all of those crime shows, but you should’ve known better.

The door was cracked, moonlight from the open shades pressing against the doorframe, your hand flat against the wood as you pushed the door open. Then came the smell. It was stout, a putrid funk that wafted against the walls, souring the room. The room was dark, pupils blown wide as they fought to see, hand sliding against the wall and searching for a light switch. Your body was tense, senses on high alert against the dark, breathing ragged against the awful stench filling your senses. Your eyes were beginning to water, wondering what in the hell could be stinking this terribly, until you felt the switch, flipping it on.

Your first instinct was to throw up, throat constricting and stomach tightening, but you just couldn’t move. You were petrified by the scene in front of you. Mr. Higgs was there, at least, what you could recognize of him. His head had been cleaved from his body, intensive amounts of blood staining his beige bedsheets. His cheeks were bloated, a gnarly purple color as his veins poked against his forehead, skin wrinkled and soaked in blood as his eyes rolled into the back of his head. They were yellow now, dark veins contrasting against the orbs as puss leaked from every hole on his expressionless face. The rest of his body was scattered, chunks of muscle shredded from his arms and hands like they had been cut off, legs more or less the same. His wide stomach was completely visible, his skin swollen and dark, bloated against the same liquids spilling from his pores. The blood was the worst part. It was just everywhere. Splattered on the sheets, the nightstand, even the walls, specks reaching the roof. You were so lost in your racing thoughts, your heart pounding heavily against your chest as you gripped the door tightly, knuckles white on the frame. You could feel the cold sweat drip down your brow, utter fear chilling your body. 

You wouldn’t have even noticed the tall boy standing in the corner if he hadn’t flinched, eyes wide and locked on you. He was lanky, easily taller than you and pale. No, not pale, more gray. He had curly brown hair that fell in front of his eyes, his freckled cheeks flushed against the bandages across his jaw. A pair of goggles rested amongst his curls, a dark mask covering his nose and mouth. He wore dark wash jeans loose around his hips and a heavier brown hoodie that was stained with dark blood. Oh God. The boy didn’t look much older than you despite his bruise battered skin. But he wasn’t moving, wasn’t talking, he was just watching. 

His hands were behind his back, shoulders scrunched against the corner of the dark walls as you pressed back off the door frame, breathing ragged. “Who the hell are you?” You grimaced, tone coming across a lot more confident than you felt. The boy flinched, not out of fear, more like a bodily reaction. He refused to answer, eyes scanning around quickly until he pressed off the wall, sliding to the shuttered window and pinching the blinds open, scanning the night without explanation. That’s when you heard loud boots stepping up the porch steps, head spinning quickly down the hallway. “Shit.” You heard him, the boy’s voice panicked and rough, his boots stepping quickly across the hardwood and into your vicinity. Panic strained you, head spinning back quickly before your vision was filled with his arms wrapping around you, palm slapping over your mouth as he pressed you to his chest. 

You tried to fight back, mumbled pleas against his hand as you shouldered his arms, your back pressed firmly against him. He was dragging you into the room, your feet dragging as you struggled, clawing his arms away but he never budged, practically unaware of the scratches you were leaving on his hands. “F- Fuckin’ quit-” He growled quietly, pressing open the small closet doors and dragging you both in, quickly shutting the door as you heard the boots grow louder down the hallway. A sliver of light shone through the crack in the door, leaving you just enough room to see the gorey scene as you pressed off of him, his muscled arms refusing to let you go.

“Toby?” A scratchy voice called into the room, the figure stepping through the door frame and into your line of sight. At his appearance, you froze completely, your body tense against the boy behind you. His arms gripped tighter, bandaged fingers digging into your cheek as he kept you quiet. He was horrifying. 

This man was taller than the one in the closet with you, pasty skin a sharp contrast against his dark messy hair. His eyes were wide, pupils dark against his reddened scleras. He wore a white hoodie, dark jeans covered just the same with Mr. Higg’s blood. But the worst part, the part that made your heart pump in your throat, was his smile. It was etched in, flesh torn upwards into a mocked smile, teeth exposed from the side of his cheek. The area was mangled, seemingly unhealed as blood dried against the cut. He almost made Mr. Higgs seem not that bad.

“Twitch, come on,” He called again, hands shoved in his hoodie pocket as he strolled around the room, kicking Mr. Higg’s severed foot out of the way. “I’m gettin’ tired. This guy had some good beers and I’m tryna get back home and drink ‘em.” He snickered, turning back out of the room and back down the hallway, his loud boots stomping against the old floors. Who you presumed to be Toby didn’t let you go, arms just as tight around you as you gripping his hoodie’s sleeves tight. “Fine then! If you’re gonna play fuckin’ hide and seek then I’m leavin’ your ass here!” He called throughout the house, your body only untensing when you heard the back porch door slam shut, loud boots thunking down the porch and out of earshot. 

You both waited a couple of seconds, heart thudding in your ears as arms slowly released you, palm unclasping from your mouth. Panicked, you slammed out of the closet, turning around quickly and facing Toby, back pressed against the nearest wall as you searched for something to defend yourself with. “D- Dumbass.” He grit, pressing out of the cramped closet and facing you, tugging at the sleeves of his hoodie. The stench of the room pressed harder than ever, making your head dizzy as you pressed out of the room and down the hallway, Toby quick on your heels. “Whoever the fuck you are, whatever the fuck you want, I’m sure Mr. Higgs didn’t have it. Why in God’s name is he in pieces in his bedroom?” You hissed, gagging as the image replayed in your mind, turning into his kitchen and wracking the cupboards. When you found a small plastic cup, you ran water in through the sink, chugging the stout liquid down as you calmed your breathing. Toby stayed in the doorframe, crossing his arms. You probably shouldn’t have let your guard down, knowing full and well what he had just down to your neighbor, but you figured if he was going to he would have already.

“It’s none of y- your business. I don’t k- kill innocents, so you s- shoulda just stayed home, m- missy.” He growled back, stuttering through the words. You tossed the cup in the sink, the plastic clattering against the metal as you turned to face him, running your hands through your hair. “Hard to when you guys so obviously left his door open. The bastards hounded me for years, you’d think I’d be happy about his death, but not fucking like that.” You hissed, leaning back against the counter and crossing your arms, bare feet cold against the porcelain tiles. “I mean, Jesus. And I mean, thanks and all for the save back there, but how is killing him and saving me any different? It’s just favoring one innocent over another.” Toby shook his head, sliding past you and tugging a drawer open, shovelling through old receipts until he found the stack he was searching for. He passed it to you, paper crinkling as you skimmed through, old pharmacy receipts for prescription medicine. 

“H- Had the old bastard bu- buying our meds. Paid h- him off and everything. Un- Until he started g- giving us coun- counterfeits, sellin’ u- us out. He h- had to pay u- up somehow…” He huffed, shoving his mask down off of his nose and under his chin, his thin lips chapped against the bandages hugging his cheeks. And of course, he was cute. 

“So he gets shredded?” You had to breathe through that sentence, throat tight with nausea. Toby nodded, a small smirk crooking at the corner of his lips. You grimaced, pressing off of the counter and through to the living room, the old furniture seeming a lot less homey now. You were going home, filing a police report, and praying to God these fuckers didn’t come back to get you instead. 

“U- Uh, might wa- wanna clean up, t- too,” Toby chuckled from behind you. You paused, confused as you looked around, stomach twisting as you looked down. Bloody footprints trekked through the kitchen behind you, a trail leading to your bare feet as you lift your knee, gagging at the sight of Mr. Higg’s blood coating your soles. Toby was laughing, the noise muffled against the ringing in your ears as you hunched over, stomach convulsing as you puked on the hardwood floors, your lunch from work coming back up. Head straining, you panted, wiping your lips. “Oh, s- shit, okay.” Toby hissed, sliding to your side and raising you up, hugging you close to his side. He drug you through the door, stomach still churning as you watched your footprints faintly appear beneath you, purposefully dragging them through the grass to get the blood off. You felt disgusting, giving no fight as Toby brought you to your porch steps, helping you up. He was so bipolar, angry and distasteful for one second, then cautious and endearing the next. It really was like you were dealing with a teenager. 

Addy circled your ankles, her dense fur tickling your skin and making you jump, Toby gripping your arms tighter. “Oh, hi kitty.” You cooed, breathing deep as you kneeled down, scooping her up into your arms as Toby helped you up the rest of the steps. Without asking, he slid open your screen door, helping you both inside as Addy purred against your chest, Toby wary as he stared at her. You dropped her on the floor gently, Toby sliding the door shut as you hunched over your sink, cleaning your mouth and grabbing a rag for your feet. Toby still eyed Addy, fidgeting his nails as he followed her. “Ever seen a cat before? She was Mr. Higg’s.” You chuckled, cleaning the soles of your feet off and tossing the rag into the sink, still feeling unclean. Toby nodded, rubbing his arms nervously as he looked back at you, smiling awkwardly. “Yeah. Us- Used to have one. T- They kinda sc- scare me now.” Smiling, you scooped Addy up again, petting her soft fur as you brought her close to the boy, his neck twitching nervously. 

How could this guy shred a man to pieces, but petting a cat was too frightening for him? You couldn’t understand. Digressing, you gripped his wrist, steadying the twitches as you placed his hand on her back, rubbing gently as Toby flinched, breathing quickly. Addy purred, unbothered by the action as he became more comfortable, fingers playing with her fur before he pulled his hand back, breathing deep.

You were too nice for your own good, too easy at giving the benefit of the doubt. Of course, you would find the redeemable traits in a murderer, heart hurting for this boy who was more or less the same as you. Groaning, you dropped Addy, crossing your arms. “Listen. What you did, it’s… For my own conscience, I can’t let it happen again.” You grit, circling your countertop and sitting on a stool, your journal tucked in front of you as you fidgeted with the pages. “If we can agree, I’ll buy your meds. I have a friend who can write me prescriptions, no questions asked. But I need you to understand, under no circumstances, are you allowed to harm me. I’ll call the cops.” Like the cops could stop these lunatics. But, you needed some type of leverage. 

Toby thought quietly, eyes narrowed as he flinched uncomfortably against Addy rubbing on his shins, purring loudly. If you could hold your end, there would be no trouble, but he had to know he could rely on you. “Th- The meds aren’t for m- me. My f- friends, they need ‘em to function, m- mentally… You g- gotta realize this is- is serious.” Even stuttering his voice was stern, arms crossed as he thought, contemplating. You nodded, brushing your hair from your face as you groaned, realizing how desperately you needed to learn to set boundaries. “I can get them. But you have to keep your end, too.” You hissed back, pinching your fingers nervously. Toby smiled, crossing his heart, literally. Rolling your eyes, you nodded, rubbing your face as you groaned. What the fuck were you even doing? 

“I’ll have them by the end of the week. Come later at night, cops’ll be swarming for weeks thanks to you.” Toby nodded, sliding over to the counter and gripping your journal, tearing a page out as he wrote the list of prescriptions you would need to get. It was a hefty list, some of that shit intense. “Abou- About that,” He slid his mask up over his nose, sliding the screen door open as he stepped out, chuckling. “Do- Don’t go outside. Gonna ma- make it look like a g- gas leak.” You could hear the smile in his voice as he shut the screen, sliding his hood over his head and peeling down the porch steps. Finally taking a deep breath, you stared at Addy, wondering what in the absolute fuck you were doing. Rest in hell, Mr. Higgs.

-

He made it look like a gas leak alright. The house was on fire in minutes, the bright orange flames lighting your room as you heard sirens in the distance, your other neighbors gathered outside their houses as you climbed into bed, groaning your displeasure. Cops and firefighters swarmed for days afterwards, investigating the area thoroughly, but never finding any remains of Mr. Higgs, his body buried somewhere far away. They eventually grew restless, the city quickly cleaned up the charred remains of the house and a new plan for construction was set in soon. It went over smoothly, no one even suspecting a thing. 

The days passed slowly, nervousness building as the end of the week grew closer, feet shuffling as you stood in line at the pharmacy. You got the doctor’s notes easily, already called in and waiting to be picked up as you were handed a small paper bag, the pharmacist eyeing you closely as you hurried out. Once in your car, you rummaged the sack, eyes wide as you read the dosage instructions on each little pill bottle. You read each bottle carefully, cringing at the names of the contents: Thorazine, Prolixin, Haldol, and even Aripiprazole. They were all high-end antipsychotics, the list of treatments for schizophrenia and mania, along with treatment-resistant depression. The last bottle caught your eye, a quick Google search told you it was for tourette's. So his twitching wasn’t just nervousness, huh. Shoveling the sack into your bag, you sped home, Toby well on his way as the sun set low.

The first week was easy, Toby in and out without so much as a hello, nodding his thanks as he bolted back into the woods, eyes dark and heavy. It was easy for you, moving along with your life despite the one night of the week. You felt easier, the boy quick about his stops with some chat, but never hanging around for too long, eyes always scanning the tree line nervously. 

As weeks passed, he grew more comfortable, you learned that he was quick about stopping due to his friends, their curiosity about you making him nervous about losing his ‘dealer.’ You learned to leave his meds on the counter, sometimes not even present when he would sneak in at the late hours of the night, your job taking precedence over your sleep schedule. But with all of this money being spent weekly on medicine, you had to pick up more time at work, everything being paid for out of pocket not to raise suspicion. You were sleeping more, journaling and your hobbies taking less importance until they were practically nonexistent. It was hard, your serving heart refusing to let you rest, making sure Toby got his medication is the most important thing. You were strained, to say the least. 

However, surprisingly, after a couple of weeks, Toby wasn’t in a hurry to leave. He had slid in like he always did, you sat at the counter eating your dinner as you scribbled through the pages of your notebook, summing up the previous days. You were exhausted, Toby making you jump slightly as he shut the screen door, rummaging through the paper sack. “G- Got any more?” He grinned shyly, sliding his mask and goggles off and tossing them onto the counter. You nodded to the fridge, an extra container of leftovers from the diner quickly opened in front of him as he shoveled it into his mouth. “It’s better heated up,” You laughed, shutting your journal as you slid off the stool, gripping the to-go container from him and popping it into the microwave. You both sat there awkwardly, Toby kneeling down to rub Addy’s back as she appeared beneath him, soft purrs echoing. He was still nervous, never petting her for too long before standing back up, the microwave beeping. The food came out steaming, sliding open a drawer and handing him a fork, Toby continued to shovel the food into his mouth. You hissed, holding his arm as the steaming food sizzled inside his mouth, it had to be burning him. “Oh. Y- Yeah, I don’t fe- feel pain. Th’s good, tho- though.” He grinned, slurping up more of the food. He acted like he hadn’t had warm food in forever, stuffing his face and barely giving himself time to chew. You rolled your eyes, chuckling as he ate.

The stays became longer after that, his excuse being he was hungry, continuously raiding your fridge until you began to have food ready for him, prepping his meals along with your own. Thirty minutes turned to an hour, to two hours, and then eventually through the night. He would crash on your couch, Addy curled in his lap as the television blared some old movie. That was one of the only times you didn’t see him ticcing, the cat acting as an anchor against his restless body. He looked truly comfortable, using your blankets and pillows to his advantage, beginning to invite himself to stay the night after a while. 

You sat at the counter, Toby snoring loudly as he laid face first into the couch pillow, scribbling into your journal. It was the one thing you had time for, having to get up early for work as the soft glow of the kitchen light lit the pages. Toby was practically pushing himself into your life, his lack of manners and curious mannerisms leading him to take initiative. You were grateful for his friendliness, giving great detail of his missions with his friends and explaining that whole situation. Even still, you were wary. 

But against your better judgment, your relationship with the killer was becoming less transactional. He brought you things to make for dinner, talked with you through your mutual sleepiness, and even took care of Addy when you were too delusional after work. For lack of a better word, he was becoming a friend, showing up for more than just his medication, even sometimes forgetting the bag and having to chase him down. He was infesting your life, arriving earlier than he should and leaving later than you cared for. The end of the week was becoming optional, the screen of your porch door sliding open nearly every night of the week Toby didn’t have a mission. It was annoying but in a comforting way, like you both were becoming closer naturally despite your differences. 

As you heard his snores, you groaned, rubbing your tired eyes as you began to write, letting your pencil guide on the page numbly as you wrote your thoughts. It wasn’t directed at Toby on purpose, but the further you got down the page the further your heart sank, hand fisted in your hair as you rested your elbow on the cold marble counter. “Ah, Jesus…” You grit, scribbling the final few words as you lean back, rubbing your head. The words weren’t lies, more of a hard truth you weren’t willing to accept, chalking it up that you were just tired and desperate. The words could have been about Toby, or they could have been about anyone, you didn’t really care. Sighing, you tore the page out, folding it and shoving it into the back of the book, closing the pages quickly. Sleep sounded much easier as you flipped the kitchen light off, turning the volume of the television down as you trudged upstairs to your room, giving one last glance to the snoring boy and his matching cat.

-

Toby knew his mishaps with you, his moral compass long forgotten the more time he spent inside your home. He told himself it was just easier, food and shelter at his disposal whenever, but he knew better. It was so much more than just picking up medicine for Tim and Brian now, it was a solid relationship, a bond that was forming in his eyes. 

It had been almost four months since the unfortunate death of your neighbor, a smile creeping every time he saw the charred flecks of wood buried in the overgrown grass. You had begun to leave the back door unlocked, reasoning that someone breaking and entering would be less of a hassle than him. That was what Toby really hooked onto the most about you, your humor about everything. Despite your hardships and the emotions you had to overcome, you held a caring heart, compassion always lacing every action. He found it admirable, your humor through your busy life. And, likewise, he did feel bad for making you work so much, tired eyes always hurting his heart whenever you were around. But, it wasn’t like he could get a job, so he helped where he could, cleaning and learning to cook for your sake. He needed this medicine, for his friend’s and his own stability, even at your expense.

You were already nestled at your spot on the counter, writing your thoughts in that damn journal. You barely even looked up as he entered, diving for the fridge as he scooped up Addy with one arm, her purs a nice vibration against his shoulder. Popping the container in the microwave, he leaned in over your shoulder, trying to catch a glance at your scribbling before you shoved him off, closing the book quickly. “Ah, ah, mind yours.” You smiled, forking your own food into your mouth. “O- Oh come on, [Y/N], just a pe- peak.” He smiled back, gathering his food as he began to eat, sliding onto his familiar spot on the couch. It was routine now: where you sat, what he watched, what you both talked about. He explained his latest mission with Masky in more detail than you enjoyed, pushing your food away as you groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You both laughed throughout the night before you whisked your food into the fridge, calling your goodnights before heading upstairs. 

Toby continued to watch the television, brushing Addy’s back with his bandaged fingers as he sat his empty container to the side. His curiosity nudging him, he raised up, tossing his trash before he slid to the counter, you all too confidently leaving your journal there. Slipping back onto the couch, he began to flip through the pages, listening closely for your footsteps as he read your entries, smiling as they dated all the way back to your high school years.

It seemed as though everything you thought spilt onto these lines, emotions erratic between every page as he realized just how much of a people pleaser you really were. All through your recent years, it was nothing but service, acting through the goodness of your soul until it felt sickening, fake almost. He cringed, flipping quickly through but finding nothing juicy, no deep dark secrets that he felt were interesting. Sighing, he closed the journal, standing to set it back onto the counter, until a slip of paper fell from between the pages. Smiling, Toby leaned down, arms twitching as he slid the journal back onto the counter, leaning against the marble as he flipped the paper open, reading carefully.

“Sometimes, when I think about it too hard, I get all emotional about myself. I know I put on a front, like everything I do I’m in charge of and can handle, always putting everyone around me first. But what if I wanted to be put first? I do so much for the sake of others but it never seems to be returned, never compensated for the mental strain. Well, maybe I want to. Maybe I want to be loved like I see others, rough and real. I have no clue how I even would, I can barely handle touching myself before I'm overwhelmed. But I just want someone else to take the reins, show me that I don't have to work my brain so hard and can just numb out. That's not too much to ask, right? Just someone who can love me, not some creep or one night thing, someone who cares. If I never ask for anything again, that would be it. Someone who wants me for me.”

He could have died. The brunette’s cheeks dark as he re-read the crumbled page, excitement coursing through him. In his mind, he wanted to storm upstairs and just rattle you then, showing you how good he could treat you. It was like a bomb had gone off, Toby having to pretend like him having a crush on you wasn’t achingly obvious, convincing himself he just didn’t know how to act around women. But now it was clear, his mind racing with a million wants and needs, body spasming under the excitement. 

Convincing himself to leave, he slipped the note into his pocket, body buzzing with excitement as he slid out your door. He would be back, like always. But this time, he would show you what you truly needed, what only he could give you. 

-

Like always, Toby left a note for the medication you needed to pick up, it sometimes changing week to week. Everything looked normal, the usual combination of pills reading off. But as you scanned the bottom, you groaned, shoving the paper into your pocket. Trilafon, Saphris, and… Plan B. As if your desperation for some affection couldn’t have gotten much worse, your heart twisted, a lump growing. Whether it be for some girl he was laying or a girlfriend he already had, you didn’t care, all you wanted was to get the medicine and go. Crawling into your bed sounded like a much more exciting activity than dwelling on the brunette, heart saddened in all the way you knew it shouldn’t. 

To make your night even better, Toby didn’t show. It wasn’t unusual, for him sometimes not to show up for days due to extensive missions. But a part of you longed to see him, especially after today, just to help your mind with the whole morning-after pill situation. So now, instead of imagining him surrounded by his friends on a mission, you imagined him towering over a girl. Strong arms holding her, body contorting to fit against hers… You could’ve been sick, shaking your head as you ate quickly and pressed upstairs, barely petting Addy before you slinked into bed, hauling the covers over your head. 

It was lonely on nights without his presence in your house. But especially tonight, thoughts racing uncontrollably to the point of tears, thick droplets streaking down your face as your chest hurt, longing for a body, any body, to hold close to yours. Maybe you really were just a transactional thing. 

-

Toby smiled as he trekked through the familiar stretch of woods to your house, heart racing in his chest. He had it all planned out, exactly what he wanted to do, his cock already twitching in his jeans. 

He hadn’t shown up tonight on purpose, hanging back at the mansion to take the best shower he could, Ben teasing him about how good he smelled as he was leaving. You had to be well in bed by now, body tired after working all day just for him. He would take care of you, showing just how grateful he was for how much you were giving up just for his friends and him. Pressing past the tree line, he smiled, pulling his hood down as all the lights in your home were out, signaling your retirement. 

Pressing up the steps, he slid the screen door open quietly, careful not to alert you as he clicked it shut. Stripping his hoodie, he tossed it onto the couch, Addy purring light against the cushions. It was warm in your house, black t-shirt hugging his arms as he untucked it from his jeans, climbing up the steps, his mask and goggles quick to come off next. 

He was too excited for his own good, boots stepping quietly against the old hardwood as he slinked to your door, fidgeting with the knob. A rush of your scent blew into his face, your perfume stout in your small bedroom, eyes searching around in the dark space for your bed. It wasn’t hard with your breathing, quiet snores making him smile as he leaned against your mattress, admiring your unawareness. You looked so peaceful, his bandaged fingers tracing your cheeks and brushing your hair from your face, your skin flinching under his touch. “Hi, baby…” He whispered, the pet name sounding right against his tongue as he referred to you, tugging the sheets down. 

Toby always knew how nice of a body you had, you sometimes sauntering around the house with shorts and a t-shirt and making his eyes trail just a little longer than normal. But now, under his cold hands, you were even more gorgeous. You were wearing an oversized shirt, a slight tug at the fabric revealing that you only had panties on underneath, you slightly stirring as his nails brushed your skin. The brunette was excitedly jittering, kicking his boots off as he climbed onto the bed, kneeling at your curled body sound asleep. You shifted, rolling onto your back as you breathed deep, stretching your arms before settling back into yourself. Toby could have died, your legs stretching out to rest around him, his cock twitching with interest against your now visible panties. A quiet sigh breathed through your lips.

That was all the invitation he needed. Running his cold hands under your shirt, he felt your warm skin and goosebumps rising as you squirmed under them. Your brows scrunched but Toby pressed further, running his fingers along your waist and up to your tits, palming the mounds gently as he smiled. It was crazy to him just how soft your skin was, not weathered or bruised from missions or nature, perfectly smooth under his axe-calloused hands. Pushing your shirt up to your chest, he gasped at your round tits, the weight so perfect in his hands as he pinched at your nipples, rubbing the nubs gently. Toby was never very sure of anything, always brushing through life at the command of others. But the one thing he was sure about? His love for boobs, especially yours. 

Nudging closer between your legs, he rested your knees on his thighs, leaning down to your chest as he popped a nipple into your mouth, sucking gently. The nub was hard against his tongue, slowly circling as he massaged the opposite one in his palm, pinching your nipple gently. That’s when you began to stir, hands sliding against the bed and unconsciously searching for the cause of your sensitivity. Lazy hands pushed against his face, soft groans echoing in the boy’s ears as he popped off your nipple and moved to the next one. Your hands fingered through his hair, tugging lightly until your eyes were beginning to flutter, your mind slowly coming alive. Toby let off your tit, kissing along your chest and licking a stripe between your tits, humming as he watched your eyes slowly blink open, confusion rocking you. He kneaded your tits gently, tugging at your nipples as you realized what was happening, eyes slowly widening as you strained to sit up against him. “Toby? Wha-” Your voice was scratchy, ridden with exhaustion as the brunette kissed up your neck to your cheeks, pushing you back down as he slotted himself flush between your legs. Slowly realizing what was happening, your cheeks flushed dark, hands pressing against his chest as you squirmed, nervously babbling as your body was still half asleep. “Lay b- back, baby… You’re so ti- tired, let me take c- care of you…” Toby sighed, running his hands back down along your skin, relishing in the way your body nervously shook under him.

You physically could not believe what was happening. This had to be a dream, some sick trick your mind was playing as you felt cold fingers hook under your panties, sliding them down. Heavy eyes wide, you grabbed his arms, clenching your thighs together against his waist. “No- No, wait- I don’t even, I mean, I’ve never-” Toby was already shushing you, gripping your wrists together and kissing your palms before pushing them back down to your sides, resuming his tug down your thighs. “I’ve go- got you. Don- Don’t gotta worry about a- a thing…” He smiled, raising your legs up to slide your panties down the rest of the way, hooking them off of your raised ankles before pulling you down closer to him, pushing your shirt over your head. “Read y- your journal, you don- don't gotta act protective, ba- baby. I know this is what y- you want…” If you weren’t already panicking, you definitely were now. 

You wanted to hound him for snooping through your journal, mouth opening to tell him off. But as his fingers brushed against the inside of your thigh, dangerously close to your folds, you lost all train of thought. He was watching you, eyes excited in the darkness of your room as he swiped his thumb closer again, your thighs flinching shut. “Anyone else e- ever touched here before?” He mumbled, pressing his thumb against your plump lips and tugging them open, getting a nice look at the wetness that was already forming between your folds. Shaking your head, Toby lit up, cock pushing hard against his jeans as he had to adjust his position, using both hands to pull your lips apart, sighing at how pretty your cunt was. Just something about knowing that Toby was claiming his stake on you, imprinting his touch for the first time before anyone else could, made something deep inside of him burn. It wasn’t like the brunette got much play himself, hooking up with a girl here and there, but being your first? That already made this so much better than any other girl could even try. 

Sliding his fingers through your wetness, you gasped, hands clutching the pillow behind your head as he groaned, spreading your arousal across your lower abdomen. You whined, thighs begging to clench together as he purposefully slid your juices over your cunt, pressing his thumb down against your swollen clit and jolting your back off the mattress. You had only ever masturbated here and there, your body getting too overwhelmed after one orgasm and forcing you to stop, but would Toby stop? As he brought his fingers to his lips and sucked them into his mouth, you doubted his restraint.

“Please be gentle…” You warned, hands planting on the mattress as you sat up, resting on your elbows as you watched Toby bring his digits back down to your cunt. He rolled his eyes playfully, tugging your folds open with his opposite hand as he pressed the tips of his fingers against your entrance, pressing in slowly. “I’ll try…” He laughed, your fingers gripping the sheets tight as you watched his fingers sink in slow, stretching your cunt uncomfortably. His index and middle fingers screwed into your tight walls gently, twisting his wrist to draw a moan from your lips, digits spreading against your gummy walls and making your entrance ache. “Just i- imagine my dick in here…” He cooed, eyes darting between your nervous face and your pretty cunt fluttering around just his fingers, barely even handling them. 

Pressing his opposite thumb against your clit, he began to rub in small circles, dragging your hips further and further off of the mattress until you were practically rolling your hips against him. His fingers probed in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, just enough to make you comfortable with the unfamiliar intrusion, but his arms ached to go faster, curl his fingers until you spasmed. “Toby…” You sighed, his hands moving in time with other as he screwed his fingers inside of you, angling them just enough so they pressed against your tight walls. His name sounded like heaven against your aroused tongue, so quiet but so desperate, secretly drawling for more. “Tell me w- what you want, ba- baby…” The pet name made your face hot, your stomach fluttering as you pressed back into the pillows, running your hands down to your thighs and squeezing the flesh. “I want… more…” You sighed through your arousal, cunt clenching desperately around Toby’s cold fingers, sucking them back inside every time he drew them out. The brunette laughed, pushing his feet under him to push his hips up against your ass, your hips raising off the bed as he fingered down into you. You could feel his cock straining behind his jeans below your raised ass, twitching needily with every tug of his fingers and moan that whined from your throat. His size was overwhelming, making your heart pound as Toby began to curl his fingers, making your eyes shut quickly. 

His fingers pressed so deep in your cunt, curling against your sensitive walls and making your jaw hang, beginning to press against your walls at a steady rhythm. It was like a new fire had lit under Toby, fingers screwing in at a quicker pace and making your stomach clench, face screwing into an overwhelmed feeling. His fingers pumped in, knuckles sinking in through your wetness and gripped by your gummy walls, curling his fingertips just right as he got deep. It was so intense, so rough, just a mess of slick and your wet cunt sounding through the room with every squelch as he abused your clit, swiping left and right quickly. Your thighs twitched and ached with every curl, trying to close around his hand practically fucking you into sensitivity. Your hands wrapped around his forearm quickly, begging his wrists to stop curling abusively inside of you as you tugged your nails into his skin. Toby wouldn’t, continuing to pump his fingers as he stared at your flushed face, cunt squelching embarrassingly loud. “Just a l- little more… Co- Come on…” He groaned, nudging his hips against your bare ass as his fingers milked moans and whines out of you, his fingers glistening with your arousal every time he tugged them out. He couldn’t feel you clawing at his arms, loud groans begging him to let up as your cunt clenched, molding around his thick fingers. 

You could feel your orgasm rolling through you, Toby huffing as the veins in his arms popped, his shoulder muscles straining against his shirt as he watched your face carefully, picking up as your moans became louder. “Gonna come f- for me? Yeah?” He teased, clothed cock twitching against your ass, pushing your cheeks apart as he rutted against you. He curled his fingers quicker, mumbling his arousal as he watched your cunt swell around him, clit throbbing under his thumb. Your orgasm hit you like a truck, stomach tightening and forcing you to sit up, Toby was quick to let off your clit and wrap his arm around your back, holding you up as he pumped your through your cunt squelching, tightening around his digits. Your eyes rolled, teeth grit tight as he palmed your clit, slowing his pace to a slow thrust as you became undone against him. No orgasm of your own had ever compared to that, head light and chest heavy as you breathed quickly, gripping Toby’s shirt tight. 

Refusing to let you go, Toby leaned in, pressing kisses against your neck and licking at your sweat, relishing in the warmth around his digits. You whined, cunt sensitive as he tugged his fingers out, his skin raw and pruned against the wetness coating his digits. Your folds were absolutely drenched, Toby spreading his fingers through your lips and pushing his sopping fingers over your warm thighs wrapped around him. “God, y- you’re so wet-” He gasped, pressing his fingertips back against your clit as he laid you back, gripping your tit. Your mind panicked, cunt flashing with sensitivity as he began to rub against your clit, swiping left and right against the rub quickly. “Toby- Stop- Toby, please-” You cried, breath catching in your throat as your stomach clenched, his fingers pressing hard as he pinched your nipples, eyes trained on your wet pussy. “You e- ever squirt before?” He smiled, transitioning fast between digging his fingers into your cunt and pulling them back out to swipe against your clit. It was nauseating, cunt crying desperately for relief as he dug nails into your tits. Gasping loudly, you gripped his arms, knees screwing tight against his sides as you cried out, hips bucking up against his hands. 

Every time his fingers slipped into your entrance, they squelched loudly, fluttering around the intrusion before desperately aching as they tugged out and moved onto your clit. “Squirt li- like a whore, m- mkay? Quit fightin’.” He hissed, letting his hand off your tit and scooping under your left knee, pushing it back to open your cunt wider, spreading your legs further apart. Your head was dizzy, heart pounding as you gasped for air, panting at every push of his fingers. You were already quick to cumming, but it felt weird, not that normal clench you felt in your stomach, more of a strain against your cunt itself. You cried out, tears slipping down your cheeks as he forced your pussy against his will, ruining you. 

As he swiped his fingertips down hard against your clit, your entrance clenched, mouth opening wide as you cried out, hips bucking up as you felt your cunt squirt, thighs trembling hard. There was literally nothing to compare it to, mind hazy as you sprayed onto his black shirt, his fingers digging into your entrance and pushing more juices out of your swollen folds. Toby was smiling, moaning his approval as he rubbed your clit softly, pushing the last of your orgasm out as you strained against the mattress. “Gunna fu- fuck you dumb, baby…” He growled, tugging the soaked shirt over his head and tossing it as he unzipped his jeans, tugging them down and off his legs as his cock hung heavy against your drenched cunt. You couldn’t even react, head spinning as Toby gripped your hips, pushing you onto your side as he grabbed your ankle, pulling it onto his shoulder and straddling your other. 

Neck craning with excitement, he teased the tip of his swollen cock between your folds, slicking himself up with your ruined juices. “This is wh- what you wanted, is- isn’t it?” He smiled wildly, pressing his cock into your ruined cunt, groaning loudly as you swallowed him in, warmth gripping tight as he gripped your leg, other hand stable on your tit. You groaned, face turned into the pillow as he began to thrust deep, giving you no mercy as he tugged at your nipple, biting at your calf as he fucked into you. You felt so full, your body so exhausted already as stretched you further, your entrance burning against the sting of this new girth. You squeezed him so tight, cock forcing itself deeper with every tug of his hips as you began to cry, tears staining your pillowcase.

“Fuckin’ tal- alk to me, baby. Gunna mak- make me cum al- already.” He sighed, teeth chewing against the meat of your calf as he pressed your cunt wider, sweat dripping from his nose as his curls clung to his forehead. He let off your tit, left hand slinking up to grip your jaw and turn your face back to look at him, your eyes heavy as they blurred with tears. Toby looked so good right now, cheeks dark against his freckles as he towered above you, cock pushing against your gummy walls and making your mouth hang. “So pretty…” He smiled, slinking his hand down to your throat and squeezing, cock pulsing as your face tightened, mouth gasping out as he clamped tighter, refusing you air. There was something so orgasmic about cutting your airway, watching your body react as he fucked your virgin cunt, holding your life in his hands. He had to breathe deep to stop himself from cumming, his violent brain spasming out. 

He pushed your ankle over his head, pulling out roughly as he rolled you onto your stomach, you gasping from the wave of air hitting your lungs. Pushing himself against your ass, Toby swore, pushing his cock back into your cunt as he pushed your back down, making you arch against him. “Just a l- little more, m’kay?” He growled, wrapping a hand around the back of your neck and squeezing hard, pressing your face down into the pillow. With a new pace, he fucked down into you wildly, hand kneading your ass hard as digging his nails into your skin, little welts forming across the soft flesh. Your muffled cries sounded against the pillow, head light and static filled as you gasped for air, Toby’s cock ramming down against your g-spot. “Never s- seen a bitch so willing, so des- desperate for my dick you’d gi- give it up so easily.” He teased, growling as he let off your neck, neck sore as he leaned down, pushing your hair off your neck. Toby hadn’t felt like this before, wanting to mark you, fucking you so desperately he wanted to carve his shape deep inside. He couldn’t let you go without knowing exactly who you craved, corrupting you, ruining you, molding you to fit only him. 

He licked against your shoulder, sucking onto the skin before he pressed his teeth, digging both hands into your hips as he sunk them in, groaning at the pop as your blood soaked his teeth. You were crying, screaming into the pillow as your entire body begged for him, craving him, mind going blank as your blood dripped from his chin as he licked at the wound. He pressed on, nibbling into the crook of your neck and sucking revolting hickies into your skin, marking you like an animal. “Wan- Want you to come on m- my cock, baby. I got- gotta fill you full, want y- you ruined for everyone b- but me.” He mumbled quickly, cock begging to spill inside of your warm cunt as you reached around, gripping his hair as he sunk his teeth in again, walls fluttering around him. You pulled his hair, dragging his mouth off of your neck and to your lips, smashing your swollen, tear-stained lips against his as he groaned, kissing you roughly. 

You were cumming again, back arching onto Toby’s cock as you moaned into his mouth, walls holding him tight inside. He tried to move, to continue thrusting, but you were so tight all he could do was rutt his hips, begging for friction as his own seed spilt, his brows screwing tight as he came deep inside of you, warm cum seeping deep into your cunt. Your mind was blank, eyes rolled as you cried into his grasp, his nails digging into your hips until you were nearly bleeding. Your cunt squelched, milking his cock as he finally pulled from your lips, letting the last of your orgasms fizzle out before he pushed off of you, slowly tugging himself out as you whined. Looking back, his cock was soaked, glistening with your arousal and streaks of blood, Toby’s eyes wide. “Ah… Yo- You tore…” He hissed, wiping his soft cock with his shirt before pulling his boxers on, quickly trotting out of your room. You dropped your head back onto the pillow, cunt aching and body ruined as you sat in your sweat and each other’s cum, mind tired as you slowly blinked. 

Toby was back in seconds, a water bottle, a wet rag, and a small bag all in tow as he climbed back onto the bed, flipping your lazy body onto your back. You smiled, sipping the water bottle slowly as he began to clean you up, gently running the warm rag between your folds and against your thighs until he was satisfied, gently rubbing your skin. Finally, he grabbed the bag, your confusion evident as he tugged out the prescription bag, rummaging for the plan b he made you buy and popping one of the pills out, handing it to you as he smiled. Your chest welled, previous anxiety dissipating until you began to tear up, taking the small pill before reaching to wrap your arms around his neck, tugging him down next to you. Toby went easily, body cradling against yours as he kissed against the bruised spots on your neck, rubbing your bite mark gently.

As you began to doze, Toby mumbled something about your note, your mind too dizzy to hear the rest. The last thing you saw was a subtle flash behind your eyelids, sleep overtaking you as Toby held you close.

-

Morning came quickly, your body stirring, reaching for Toby but finding the bed empty. Confused, you sat up, eyes heavy and head still pounding but you pressed off the bed anyway, searching for the boy. Downstairs, on the countertop, laid his hoodie neatly folded, with a small piece of paper resting on top. Sauntering over, you reached for the top, sliding it over your head, it falling before your hips as you gripped the paper, reading its contents.

On a mission. Be back later tonight. Meanwhile, enjoy ;)

Flipping the paper over, you gasped, slapping your hand over your mouth. A small picture was taped to the back, a polaroid-type photo of the two of you cradled together, your bare body pressed against his, bruises and sweat on full display. Smiling, you tucked it into his pocket, breathing the scent of his hoodie deep as Addy circled your ankles, begging for breakfast. 

Staring out your back porch door, you made sure it was unlocked, always open for him. Killer or not, that boy was yours now, accepting his every mishap the same way he did yours. For the first time in a long time, you felt wanted. 

Rest in Hell, Mr. Higgs.

This was an anonymous request!

Comments and reblogs are appreciated! 𐚁₊⊹

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt1

Update 5/16/2024: Congrats guys, gals, and others! You have planted the seeds and they have grown. Today I wrote another 46 pages on this story (the first section was only 9 pages ya'll). I'm working on splitting it up into smaller sections so I can post it now because tumblr said no to doing it as one piece. I'll be using the tag #Meta Jazz Arkham Intern Therapist if you want to follow it.

Original Note: I'm going to go ahead and apologize for how OOC Bane is in this. It originally was Joker but I couldn't see Jazz tolerating his proximity for more than a single millisecond so Bane it is.

~*~*~

The hardest thing about being a Meta in Gotham was responding appropriately during a Rouge's attack, Jazz mused to herself. Or perhaps that was just the hardest part about being a Meta intern at Arkham while studying psychology at Gotham University. Or maybe it was just her, she considered watching the guards and Dr. Rylie whom she'd been shadowing for the past 2 weeks wide eyed, pale, and shaking as theybstared at Bane behind her. It must just be her, Jazz decided, newbie guard Kyle Jennings was definitely a Meta after all. She should probably give him some tips on hiding his enhanced strength considering how often he broke mugs, door handles, and other delicate items used in daily life.

"Weapons down or I'll snap her skinny little neck." Bane growled out, shaking her slightly for emphasis. She very much doubted that. Liminials were built different than the standard Meta, stronger, faster, better endurance, and senses even if they could mostly appear to be standard humans on the outside.  As such, their bones and muscles were much were much denser than regular humans or even Meta humans. Technically, she could be considered "invulnerable" much like the Kryptonians are.

"Back up! Let him through!" Dr. Rylie  shouted at the guards. "She's my student! Let him through!" His voice was higher pitched than she could recall hearing it before.

Ah. That was panic.

Jazz sighed involuntarily and glanced over her shoulder at Bane. Why the man had grabbed the only person close to his own height nearby was a mystery to her - no, nevermind, he clearly meant to use her as a shield - but it made looking him in the eye more difficult than necessary.

"Mr. Bane, remove your hands from my person, please." Jazz stated calmly, channeling what Danny called her inner mom as she spoke. "I will give you to one to comply."

Bane looked stunned for a moment then laughed.

"Five."

The laughing continued. Jazz could sense a stir of uncertainty through her colleagues as they looked on.

"Four."

"Did you really think that would work?" Bane snorted out, arms tensing more around her.

"Three." She continued, indifferent to his words from her experiences raising her brother. Once the count down starts you mustn't respond to anything the kids do or say until they comply or the count is done.

"What cab you even do if I don't?" Bane asked darkly breathing directly in her ear. She kept her face expressionless despite the urge to express disgust.

"Two."

"Jasmine..."  Kyle whispered halfway across the hall from her looking on with a pained and horrified expression. Gun tilting towards the floor. Sloppy.

"One." She finished and Bane gave a derisive snort.

Then she was moving. Hauling the enormous man up and over her shoulder using the arm that had been wrapped around her neck. Bane hit the cold tile hard enough that the tiles, subfloor, structural supports, and part of the concrete foundation buckled beneath him. His shoulder popped out of joint, his wrist cracked - a hairline fracture by the sound of it -  and his breath was punched out of him from the force of impact. She released his arm as soon as his was embedded in the tiles and moved forward. Kneeling over him, support most of her weight on her left foot resting on the broken ground, her right knees pressed firmly across his throat without supporting any of her weight. The position put more strain on her muscles than she would've liked but at least Bane couldn't risk fighting back without crushing his own neck in the process. He could hardly throw her while flat on his back with a mangled arm.

"Now," Jazz began, looking directly into the behemoth's pained eyes. "Do you know what you've done wrong?" She asked like she would have done with Danny as a child.

"Yes, Ma'am." Bane choked out. Jazz heard movement and murmuring behind her. She didn't turn to look.

"What did you do wrong?" She asked. It was important to make sure children correctly understood why they were in trouble after all. There was a long pause as Bane appeared to cast around for the exact right answer as if he feared getting it wrong. A bad habit Danny still uses as well, Jazz thought to herself.

"I tried to hold you hostage," He choked out in a rush, words tumbling over one another as he tried to get them all out. "I scared you coworkers and it was very disrespectful."

So he'd gone for the grab-bag response. It wasn't wrong per sey but it did indicate a past history of abuse. The type of answer given by someone who expected to be harmed or ignored if they gave the "wrong" answer. Danny tended to use that method also and their parents had always been negligent at best.

"And are you going to do it again?" She asked giving him a Look as she did. Bane's eyes widened and he tried to frantically shake his head as much as possible with the pressure on his neck.

"No, Ma'am." He promised fervently.

"Alright then," Jazz said giving him a warm smile. She gestured vaguely towards the guards without turning to look at them. "Kyle here is going to take you to see the nurse and then back to your room then. I'm sure you'll behave for him?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'll behave." Bane said. Jazz stood slowly asking sure not to put any additional pressure on his neck as she did. Kyle came and stood next to her as the giant of a man slowly pulled himself to his feet then led him away with 5 other guards.

Jazz heaved a sigh. Well, time to find out whether or not she could play all that off as normal, non-Meta human behavior.

[pathologicalreid]

sanctuary | s.r.

in which hotchner!reader reunites with the BAU after her time in WITSEC

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: fluff (flangst?) content warnings: mr. scratch arc, witsec, hotch and jack and thriving, luke and garcia bickering, thunderstorms, anxiety, hotchner!reader, boyfriend!spencer word count: 1.79k a/n: the fluffier, more fun follow up to sense memory! but you don't have to read sense memory to understand this fic <3

You kept your hood tugged over your head, staring at the books on Spencer’s desk as you waited for him to show up. He had texted you when the jet landed, letting you know he’d be home tonight.

The darkness was starting to get to you. The way the sun set earlier and earlier in the day, draping your apartment in a fog that no number of lightbulbs could diffuse, scared you. The obscuring of your eyesight brought back memories of a time that was best forgotten, and paranoia rushed through your veins whenever you sat in the apartment.

Usually, you’d make the drive up to your dad’s house in Philly, but he was off chaperoning a field trip with Jack’s class. You were perfectly safe in your own apartment, Spencer, despite his Luddite tendencies, had a new security system installed, and your sidearm had been returned to you by the marshal service. Even so, every time you heard a creak in the floorboards or the tapping of something in the window, the hairs rose on the back of your neck.

There was no one for you to call. You didn’t want to bother your father and Jack while they were together. You didn’t want to worry Spencer. Your therapist would just suggest that staying in the dark apartment was a good method of exposure. You didn’t want to be exposed; you’d had more than enough fear for one lifetime.

You’d retreated to the BAU. The sixth floor of the FBI’s Quantico headquarters had been your home away from home for longer than you could remember, the walls of your sanctuary provided you with shelter from the storm.

When you had brandished your badge for the men at the security table, they looked like they had seen a ghost as they sent you upstairs.

Your desk had remained untouched by time, Spencer told you that Penelope would periodically go through and dust the surface, waiting patiently for you to return to your place. The desk chair that Luke tried to steal from you time and time again tucked beneath the furniture, hoping for you to take your seat.

The magnetic pull that you felt from your desk was the exact reason why you elected to sit at Spencer’s desk, surrounded by his books, a photo of the two of you, and fewer reminders of the life that you used to lead.

Spencer had respected your wishes for your return to remain a secret. The only other member of the team who knew your whereabouts was Rossi, and that was because he quit taking no for an answer when offering to visit your father and was surprised to find you weren’t there.

Twisting slightly in the chair, you thought about going to see Penelope, but what would you say to her? What would you do when you got to see her again?

Ten months was a long time to be away from your second family, even more so when you’ve been hiding amongst them for the past two months. A flash of light outside clues you in to the arrival of a July thunderstorm, sighing, you rest your head in your hands and wait in the comfort of the BAU.

Everything about it just felt so normal. The ticking of the world clocks above the unit chief’s offices. The pictures of Roxy that Luke kept on his desk. The crayon drawings that JJ kept on her desk. The dinging of the elevator that signaled that the team had finally returned.

You hadn’t thought this far ahead.

The glass doors to the BAU didn’t give you any cover to run and hide in Rossi’s office, leaving you entirely exposed in the bullpen, save for your hood that concealed your face.

“My beautiful people,” Penelope greeted the team in front of the doors. “Now, it is not my intention to alarm anyone, but there is a mysterious cloaked figure sitting at the wonderful Dr. Reid’s desk.”

Your face warmed while everyone talked about you, discussing who you were, and who you could be. None of them mentioned your name, either for a lack of belief or an act of protection, making it so no one got their hopes up.

The familiar rush of air hit you as someone opened the glass doors, you kept your head down as footsteps approached you. The familiar tapping of Spencer’s boots grew louder until he was standing right in front of you, crouching to the ground so he could look you in the eyes, and placing a gentle hand on your knee. “How long have you been here?”

Frowning, you picked at the seam on your leggings, chewing on the inside of your lip as you shrugged, “An hour, maybe? I lost track of time.”

Spencer nodded in understanding, “I tried to call you from the tarmac, but you didn’t answer.” He turned to where the doors were, holding up a hand as he tried to hold off the other team members, “Are you alright?”

“Yeah,” you assured him, “I just… I thought I’d feel safer here.”

He squeezed your knee gently, “But you know now you have to talk to everyone, right?”

You hadn’t expected the team to allow you to walk away from them again, so your head bobbed in confirmation, and you pushed your hood off of your head, receiving a gasp from Penelope once she recognized you. Spencer stood first, holding out his hand to get you up from his office chair before facing the team.

Adjusting your sweatshirt self-consciously, you studied all of their faces, each person simultaneously so different and somehow precisely as you remembered them. You screwed your eyes shut before opening your mouth, “Hi— oof!”

Your greeting was interrupted when you were engulfed in a hug, opening your eyes to be met with familiar blonde hair—Penelope was hugging you so tightly that it was restricting your breathing, and you reciprocated gratefully. Your olfactory memory was firing receptors in your brain as her vanilla perfume flooded your senses.

Spencer’s hand was settled on the small of your back, gentle but firm, a method of reassurance. You’re safe. It’s okay. These people love you.

Sniffling, you nuzzled your face into her shoulder, “Oh, Penny,” you murmured into her shoulder. Nearly a year of thoughts rushing through your mind, yet you couldn’t get any of them out without blubbering.

Surprisingly, she pulled away from you first, holding you at arm’s length and looking you over, studying your appearance like she was trying to jog her memory.

Before she got to say what she was thinking, another familiar character reached out and pinched your arm, “Ow, what the hell?” You peered over at Luke, who was seemingly not in a hurry to take his hand away, but Garcia came quickly to your defense and began swatting at his hand.

“Back off, Newbie,” she said, continuing to bat at him until he put his hands up in surrender.

Laughing, you glanced back at Spencer, who bore an amused look at the scene before moving forward and giving JJ a hug while Penelope and Alvez had their spat. You sighed in JJ’s arms, “Some things never change, huh?”

Pulling away from the hug, JJ rolled her eyes, “Oh, you have no idea.” Her curious blue eyes flickered between you and Spencer, obviously noticing that this wasn’t a reunion between the two of you.

“Hey, Em,” you beamed, turning around and reaching out for the new BAU Unit Chief. Well, newer, you supposed. “Thank you,” you whispered to her, knowing everything she’d given up protecting you and your family—once you got Spencer talking, it was a difficult task to get him to stop storytelling.

You pulled away, greeting Matt with a handshake and waving timidly at Rossi, who you’d previously reunited with and had provided you with several home-cooked meals. “You look great,” Tara said, observing you from in between Garcia and Luke, serving as a human barrier between the two of them.

Doing a little spin, you smiled anxiously, pulling at the sleeves of your sweatshirt, you looked around at everyone again, “Thank you.” All of the stress of being in Witness Protection had worn out your body, and one of your goals before returning to the BAU was getting healthy again. You were glad to hear that it seemed to be working.

“Come back here,” Penelope beckoned, waving you over to her until you were standing between her and Spencer in the circle that had been formed in the bullpen. Her eyes shone as she looked at you with wonder, “You’re here! You’re real,” she said excitedly, gathering you back into a hug. “I can’t believe you’re here,” she gently shook you, “I missed you.”

You relaxed into the hug, “I missed you too,” you whispered, stepping back and gratefully accepting Spencer’s hand when he extended it to you.

JJ clicked her tongue at the two of you, “What, uh, what’s going on here?”

“What?” You asked, feigning innocence as Spencer not so discreetly snaked a hand around your waist.

The blonde raised her eyebrows in incredulity, “Do you expect us to believe that this is how the two of you reunited?”

You shrugged, looking up at Spencer with adoration, “I split time between my dad’s and Spencer’s, so… we live together.”

Everyone was silent, and you expected an uproar. Frustrated questions on why you kept it a secret and why you stayed away from everyone when all they wanted was to be there for you, but the cacophony never came.

Instead, there was an encouraging whoop from Luke, and your eyes widened as cheers filled the room, “Really guys, it’s about time,” Emily acknowledged, smiling at the both of you.

It struck you then that you had been scared. You had been terrified of coming back to the BAU to find that they didn’t understand you and your reasoning for keeping your distance, but this was a group of people who knew better than anyone why you needed that time.

You felt a little silly, knowing you had been under the impression that these people would greet you with anything except for open arms. The realization that it wasn’t the building that made the BAU such a safe space for you but the people hit you like a bag of bricks.

Steepling your fingers and placing them in front of your face, you smiled at all of them, “I missed you all. So terribly much.”

Emotions made you weak at the knees, and you might’ve fallen to the ground if it weren’t for the BAU enveloping you in a hug, holding you up—keeping you safe.

[holylulusworld]

Get off my lawn

Title: Get off my lawn

Written for @buckybarnesbingo (Round 6)

Card: B004

Square Filled: Y5: Kink: A/B/O Society

Ship/Main Pairing: Alpha (Teacher) Bucky Barnes x Omega (Teacher) Reader

Rating: Mature

Major Tags/Triggers/Warnings: a/b/o, a/b/o dynamics, misogynism, arguments, enemies to lovers, idiots in love, panty theft, implied smut

Summary: You hate your neighbor and co-worker.

Word Count: 1632

@buckybarnesevents „Hot Bucky Summer 2024”: “We’re…enemies to lovers.”

@buckybingo (expired): Square 3: High School Teachers AU

@AllCapsBingo (expired):  G3: AU: Teacher

@warmandfluffybingocards: Square 9: Enemies to lovers

@the-slumberparty (expired): Square 7: Lingerie

@buckbarnesbingo Round 5 (expired): B1: Knitting

You need time away from … everything and everyone.

Sometimes it’s hard to love your job. On days like this, when the parents of your students bug you because they believe you are more than a teacher you want to quit. According to some parents, you must be a therapist, a nanny, and a private tutor at the same time.

Impatiently clicking your pen, you listen to the last father’s rant. He’s angry because his son won’t do better than a D for months. It’s not your fault his son plays on his phone all the time.

“I’ll stop you right there,” you raise your hand, not letting the man argue with you. “It’s past my work time, still, I agreed to talk to you.” You rub your pounding temples. “Let’s be honest. Your son could do much better if only he put a little more effort into schoolwork. He just doesn’t want to.”

“That’s not true!” And he tries to argue again. Alphas are all the same. They try to force you into submission by raising their voice. “He’s a smart boy, but you don’t give him a chance.”

“Sir, I must ask you to lower your voice. I’m not your omega, and I resent your tone,” you get up from your seat. “Your son plays on his phone all the time. When I ask him to listen to the lecture, he gets cheeky. He doesn’t respect his teachers or fellow students. He’s disturbing the lectures too.”

“Mr. Barnes said my son is a good student,” the alpha snarls and puffs his chest. You roll your eyes and decide to end the conversation.

“Mr. Barnes is a gym teacher. Of course, he believes your son is a good student. Jack only ever shows interest if he can push others around and use his physical strength to intimidate others.”

“Are you implying that my son is a bully?”

“No,” you smile cooly. “I’m not implying that your son is a bully. I’m telling you that he is a bully. If you want Mr. Barnes to teach your son English too, you can ask him to be his tutor from now on.”

You grab your bag and jacket to leave the room, ignoring that the alpha snarls in your direction. You have handled men like him before and won’t whine only because he believes you must cower in front of him.

Today is not your day. First, you had to endure your student’s father, and now you run into the only co-worker you hate.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N,” James Buchanan Barnes, the cockiest motherfucker you ever met, purrs. “I heard you had trouble with Jake’s dad.” He grins, knowing he made things even harder for you. “Maybe you should leave the young alphas to me.”

“Maybe you should not stick your nose into other people’s business, Mr. Barnes,” you quip before marching away. He won’t get under your skin. Not today out of all days. It’s the last day of school. Summer lies ahead and you won’t allow him to ruin your mood.

“I wonder if you bought these for someone special,” Bucky laughs as he steps toward your fence to look at your rotary airer – or rather at your lingerie hanging on the airer. “I thought you hate any alpha.”

“Get. Off. My. Lawn,” you twirl around to glare at him. “What the fuck is wrong with you? What kind of man sneaks around an unbonded omega’s house to stare at her lingerie?”

He snorts when you put your hands on your hips, and snarl in his direction. “I’m not on your lawn, doll. This is a public street. I can stand here as long as I want to.”

“If you don’t get out of my sight, you’ll regret it,” you point your index finger at Bucky. “I’m warning you.”

“You’re cute when you believe you can scare me,” he laughs. “What are you going to do, huh? Threaten to throw your lingerie at me.” Bucky throws his head back, laughing. “No, I know. You are going to stab me to death with your knitting needles.”

You growl loudly. “How do you know I knit?”

“Women like you,” he steps closer to your fence and puts his hands on it, “lonely omegas no one wants to mate spend their time with knitting and telling themselves they love being single.”

“You—” you inhale sharply before turning around. Bucky is still laughing when you grab the water hose. You suddenly turn back around to spray Bucky right in the chest, soaking his shirt. He ungracefully backpaddles.

“You…” He growls when you laugh at his predicament. “Do you think this is funny?” Bucky takes off his shirt and flings it at you. “You’ll wash it and give it back to me.”

For a moment, you look at his chest, drinking his defined abs in. He is perfectly toned, and you hate him even more when your eyes drop to his thick thighs.

“In your dreams,” you rip your eyes off his body to grab the shirt and toss it in his face. “Get away from my house, you creep. What kind of man stares at a lady’s lingerie?”

“Lady,” he snorts. “You’re a fury, not a lady!”

“Bastard!”

“Bitch!”

Bucky watches you storm off, an amused smirk on his lips. He loves to toy with you and rile you up. Your scent gets stronger, and you almost drown him in it. The alpha inhales deeply, purring low in his throat as his lower half yearns for something more than your scent…

“That bastard,” you pace back and forth in your living room, eyes drifting toward the wool and your knitting needles on the coffee table. “I should stab him with my needles. One day, I’ll do it.”

Your cat meows loudly. The stray you saved a year ago wants more food, not an angry omega disturbing its sleep. “What? I took you in. You should be on my side!”

You’re about to fight with your cat when a knock interrupts you. “Christ, can I not get a moment of silence?” You walk toward the door, taking deep breaths to calm down. You don’t want to yell at someone only because Bucky Barnes riled you up once again.

“Coming,” you coo while opening the door. You put on a fake smile, but it falls when no other than the thorn in your side stands in front of you. He waves his shirt and growls your name. “What are you doing here?”

“I told you; you’ll wash my shirt!”

“I told you to get off my lawn, bastard!”

You snatch the shirt out of his hands, drop it to the ground, and stomp on it before kicking it away. “If you come here again, I’ll stab you with my knitting needle.”

“I knew you are knit—” he can’t end his line because you slam the door in his face.

“Yeah, fuck you too!”

“Where are my…” You stare at the empty rotary airer. All your lingerie and even your favorite nightie is gone. There is nothing left but Bucky’s dirty shirt. “That motherfucker stole my panties!”

He made it. Today is the day you’ll end James Buchanan Barnes's life. You run inside to get your knitting needles, a grim expression on your face. He brought it upon himself with his cocky attitude and stupid smile. How dare he drown you in his scent anytime you are near him.

The alpha will die and it’s all his fault…

“Open the fucking door!” You harshly knock at his door. “I know you are at home, you fucker! Stealing is a crime. Trespassing is a crime too!”

Bucky slowly opens his door. Today the cocky fucker has his hair pulled back. The white undershirt he’s wearing is a little too tight. He smirks at you and crosses his muscular arms over his chest. “What can I do for you doll?”

 “You know exactly what I want, Barnes,” you throw his dirty shirt in his face. “Give me back my lingerie and nightie, you fucking creep!”

“I don’t know what you are talking about?” He dips his head to let his eyes wander up and down your body. “If anyone stole clothes, it’s you. How did you get my shirt, doll?”

“You won’t get away with stealing from me,” you take a step closer to Bucky to push against his shoulders. He stumbles backward and hits the door with his back. Bucky yelps when you press one knitting needled against his crotch, poking his balls.

“Doll, what are you up to?” He watches you place your other hand on his chest, moving it up and down. “Y/N?”

“You’ll never underestimate me again,” moving your hand to his throat you smirk. “I want my lingerie back. If you don’t give them back, I’ll take something from you.”

“I can’t give them back,” he breathes heavily feeling the needly poke his sack. “I’d love to give them back…though…but…I can’t…I swear.”

“Why not? Did you give them to one of your one-nighters?” You snarl his name. “Where are my panties?”

“In my nightstand,” Bucky licks his lips. “They are dirty…though.”

You gape at him. “You fucker!”

“Yeah, I fucked them good and hard,” he grins when you drop the needle to cup his crotch. “I imagined it’s your needy hole I stuff with my thick cock.”

“You’re a pervert and a creep,” you fist his undershirt with both hands. “If you don’t want me to stab you with my knitting needle, you’ll wash my lingerie…”

“Hmm…” he purrs when you step away to move your hands under your summer dress. You shimmy out of your panties and ball them up. “What are you doing?”

“Oh, you will wash these with your dirty mouth…”

Part 2

Tags in reblog.

[questionableratatouille00]

𝘠𝘰𝘶 𝘋𝘰𝘯’𝘵 𝘒𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘞𝘩𝘢𝘵 𝘐’𝘥 𝘋𝘰 (𝘍𝘰𝘳 𝘠𝘰𝘶)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: You and Bucky explore ways to practice non-sexual intimacy.

Warnings: Non-sexual nudity, implied past SA, bad therapist Dr. Raynor, showering together, implied panic attack, let me know if anything else needs to be tagged.

Help! I haven’t read the first part!

“You struggle with intimacy.” Dr. Raynor’s unmistakable voice rang through his head.

He glared at her, his brows furrowed. “What?” His voice was slightly hoarse, so the word came out all croaky.

“You struggle with intimacy.” She repeated. “It’s common in victims of sexual abuse and assault. And you’ve got over fifty years of that.”

Bucky grimaced at her blunt choice of words. “So..what?”

“So, we’ve got a lot to work on. You’ve got any relationships? Friends, partners?” Dr. Raynor asked. “What about the girl you’ve mentioned?”

“I have friends.” He grumbled.

“Good. What about your relationship with your girlfriend? Are you two intimate?”

He clenched his fists. “That doesn’t sound like a professional question. Do you ask all your clients about their sex lives?”

“Just answer the question, Mr. Barnes. Are you intimate with your girlfriend?”

“No.” The word rotted in his mouth. He felt an overwhelming sense of shame as he was positive that Raynor was disappointed for some reason.

She scribbled something down in her notebook and Bucky felt like he was going to throw up.

“Try and build up trust and intimacy through non-sexual means.” She suggested.

When he raised a brow, she continued. “Cuddling together. Sleeping next to each other. Take baths or showers together. Be naked around each other. Work up to that one slowly.”

He didn’t think it would help his weird sex problems.

“Ask for what you need. The world won’t end.”

Bucky just shook his head bitterly, looking away as he clenched his metal fist tighter.

“…Hey.” You whispered as you looked at him. He felt a smile creep onto his face.

“Hey.” He echoed.

“You’re watching me while I sleep, now?” You chuckled.

“Maybe.” He gently played with a strand of your hair.

“You alright?” Your voice was warm, sleepy. He felt a warmth bloom within his chest.

“Mhm.” He answered after a moment. “Y/n?” He asked gently after your eyes fluttered back shut.

“Hm?” You didn’t open your eyes.

“Can..can we cuddle?” He asked. To his surprise, the world didn’t end.

“What?” You blinked your eyes open. He felt a pit of shame form in his stomach.

“Never mind. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” He shook his head.

“No, no. What did you say?” You smiled encouragingly.

“…I asked if we could cuddle.” He muttered. He asked for what he needed. And the world didn’t end.

“Sure, hon. You want me to hold you? Or..” You offered.

He nodded. “I want you to hold me. Please.”

You lifted your arm, and he awkwardly shuffled over towards you, not quite sure what to do. “What..where do I—“

You chuckled a little, shifting slightly to lay on your back. “Just lay your head on my chest, if you’re comfortable.”

He nodded, doing so. He could hear your heartbeat. His right hand drifted to your stomach to gently play with the fabric of your shirt.

“This all right?” You asked gently as you rubbed circles into his back.

He nodded. “Yeah. Thank you.” He said earnestly.

“Anytime. Always.”

“Hey, honey?” He asked suddenly as he dried the last plate.

“Hm?” You turned off the sink and turned to look at him.

C’mon. Don’t back at now, he told himself. “Do you..do you want to take a shower together?”

He watched as your eyebrows raised. But the world didn’t end.

“Yeah. We can do that. You sure you want to? There’s never any rush.” You assured him. He knew you meant well, but he felt like you were treating him like he was glass.

“I’m sure, honey.” He exhaled. “I’m..not glass. You don’t need to walk on eggshells around me.”

“I know, baby. I’m sorry—I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was.”

“It’s okay. I’m—I’m not mad. I just wanted you to know that you don’t need to treat me differently.”

“Alright. No differences. Scout’s Honor.” You did the Girl Scout sign with your hand.

He chuckled, shaking his head.

“Let’s go shower.” You suggested, and he nodded as he followed you to the bathroom.

He watched as you turned on the shower, waiting for it to warm up as he grabbed two towels.

He watched as you pulled off your shirt. You were absolutely gorgeous, and he couldn’t help but stare.

You chuckled a little as you caught him, and he smirked slightly. He pulled off his own shirt, and that’s when things felt a little off. Not inherently bad, but…wrong.

He tried to push away the feeling as you stripped down to your underwear.

He fiddled with the button and zipper of his jeans. He barely noticed as his breathing began to become more intense.

“Buck?” Your voice snapped him from his thoughts.

“What?” His voice sounded strange to his own ears.

“You’re breathing all weird. You okay?”

“I..I can’t.” He shook his head, before rubbing at his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay. No worries. Today’s not the day; no rush.”

He frowned deeply. “I’m sorry.” And he felt sorry. He felt like shit.

You reached for his hand. He let you take it.

“Don’t be sorry.” You rubbed his knuckles with your thumb.

He gave you a small, weak smile. “Okay.” He failed. It didn’t work out. He had to be at least somewhat broken.

But the world didn’t end then, either.

“I want to try again.” He told you a few weeks later.

“Try..what?” You raised a brow.

“Showering together.” He stated.

“Okay. Now?”

He nodded. “Now.”

“Okay. Let’s do it.” You agreed, and you both walked to the bathroom together.

This time, he pulled off his shirt and sweatpants with ease, standing there in his black boxers.

You pulled off all your clothes, checking the water to make sure it was warm.

Slowly, but surely, he slid his boxers down his legs and stepped out of them. He stood before you, completely naked, but he knew that you didn’t have a single thought of judgment in your mind.

“You wanna get in first?” You offered. He shook his head. Logically, he knew it didn’t really matter who got in first. But he figured that maybe a sense of being sure he was able to leave would help him if he needed it.

He watched as you stepped into the shower.

And then he did. And the world hadn’t ended.

He smiled at you as he stood so close to you. Close, but not touching. And it was perfect.

“We did it.” He grinned.

“We did.” You grinned up at him lovingly.

He’d done it. Even if it was only a step in a long process, he’d done it.

And the world didn’t end.

A/n: wanted to post this.

[xerotiny]

╋━ SO IT GOES [Teaser]

SYNOPSIS

There’s something so forbidding about talking to a stranger about your relationship with your husband. Yet you find yourself in front of him, in front of this supposed stranger, every week; you fill him in on your time with your husband, including every detail. He’s only there to help you right? He’s only guiding you through the darkness to prevent your marriage from falling. Right? He’s just a sex therapist, right? And so it goes…

So it goes • Jeong Yunho x Female Reader

Sex therapist!Yunho, married!reader, cheating husband (?)

Warning: (18+/ mdni) smut, infidelity, corruption kink, size kink, sadomasochism, dacryphillia, unprotected/protected sex, huge dick yunho, all the other smut warnings apply.

TEASER [word count: 2,630]

Your POV

Eyes.

Eyes express a lot.

A simple variation can translate to sundry of emotions.

Crinkle by your eyes? A genuine smile.

Fluttering eyelids? Nervous, anxious, flustered.

Wide eyes? Fascination, incredulity.

Scrunched brows and squinted eyes? Anger, rage, exasperation.

It comes as it goes.

All my life, I’ve been compelled by eyes; they hold a myriad of tales, unspoken, see-through stories of existence, and some mysterious truths. Reading eyes has become a habit of mine, an amiable idiosyncrasy I can’t let go of. Some might call it an infatuation, and maybe it is.

Though, could I be blamed?

My senses go abuzz when I find my own interpretation of people’s eyes; sometimes, their eyes would express their sentiments even before their voice and body could. Interpretations and perceptions are not always based on impressions. I wouldn’t judge anyone for their way of leaving a mark on me, or their speculations for that matter.

The irises which harbour different colours, they are a delight to read at times. From a hazy brown to a mystic grey, perhaps a dash of green and blue to the specks lined with the stark white; an idiosyncratic attribute ensuing a plethora of tacit inklings.

I had grown accustomed to noticing people’s eyes first, an urge coming to almost immediately when I peered at anyone; I would stare into the depths of the furrows and crypts, uncovering the different shades in them. Although, I might parade my pride in being adept at this said quirk, but I could never read his eyes.

That one perplexing man who had become my fixation, unknown to me how he did. With how cordially speechless he was, I could write a novel about his silence. There’s beauty in his silence, in his words, in his eyes; unfathomable, yet still so alluring and hauntingly beguiling. Without saying much, his eyes would inveigle anyone into doing anything for him. They were a trap, a well-played ruse to hold you captive—anyone would fall into it, I did too.

Things have their own way of working out. I was told by some mistake of my past. As my days went on to become years of countless regrets and failures, I built my faith in his words more than ever. My beliefs were shaped by countless people coming in and going out of my life; although, the unpredictability of life can sometimes be a bitch.

Things don’t work out on their own. It only took one person to change my opinions, my beliefs, my perceptions, and my life. A man who willingly chooses to remain in the dark, in the obscurities of his mind; it only took one man to change me completely. Life’s full of regrets and satisfactions. You fall in love, and you imbibe resentment, you find joy at times whereas there’s also disappointment.

It comes and goes.

“I also work on referrals, Mr. Jeup.”

A coarse titter resonates through the empty hallway, followed by someone’s dainty footsteps. Curiosity breaks your bubble, and you stop twisting the ring around your finger, pausing for a moment to direct your attention to the sounds passing through. You narrow your eyes down at the two people conversing in the middle of the hallway; a taller man you were supposed to meet with, and a middle-aged man, somewhat shorter in his stature.

When your friends were forcing you to therapy, they were raving about this therapist more specifically. And from their rambling, you could sure tell why they wanted you to be here. Your therapist was a good-looking man—that certainly undersells the point, but you were tongue tied because of the band around your finger.

“Of course, Dr. Jeong. You don’t have to remind me.”

“I feel like I need to,” the therapist lets out another laugh. “I’ll see you in the next week, Mr. Jeup.”

Their conversation, seemingly muffled to your ear, was a pointless distraction from the anxiety crawling up your stomach. When you hear the man’s footsteps descend down the hallway, you look away, fixing your gaze on your newly manicured nails. You have the urge to chip off the fresh coat of polish off them, fidget with your fingers while this moment passed. The stranger’s silhouette grazes your skin as he walks past you, leaving you alone on the chair in the middle of a brightly lit hallway.

“Mrs. Choi, I suppose?”

Your breath hitches in your throat, sensing a certain type of warmth lurk on your side. His shadow forces itself on you, compelling you to suck in another breath and compose your nerves. A frail stretch graces your lips and you turn to face him, crooning your neck further up to meet his eyes.

You hum out a response, “yeah, that’d be me.”

He nods his head in acknowledgment. “Can we take a moment? I’m sure you’re not in a hurry to get your session started right away.”

“I can wait.”

“There’s no reason for you to be…” he trails off, “anxious. I don’t bite.”

You could tell he was joking, but your anxiety couldn’t. Your brows scrunch up, and your lips tremble.

“Oh, not a fan of jokes, I assume?” he clicks his tongue, smiling down widely at you. “I won’t waste much of your time, mrs. Choi. Ten minutes is all I ask and I dearly apologise if what I propose is an inconvenience to you.”

“It’s absolutely not,” you retort, not even taking a breath in between. “Ten minutes is fine. I can wait. There’s no problem with waiting until you are comfortable.”

He lets out another chuckle, “it’ll just be ten minutes, I promise. I’ll heed you the moment I’m done.”

Nodding to him, you press your lips together and stare down at your quivering hands. An eventual gust of cold pushes through between you, making you raise your head up to find yourself staring his back; you keep your eyes on him till he disappears into the room, or his office—you can’t be too sure about it yet. And you were back to being along on the confining cushion chair, sinking deep into it while your thoughts ran amok. With nothing better to do, you tip your head back against the chair’s support and close your eyes, deciding to catch a few minutes’ shut eye.

Well, you could hardly relax in whatever time you were told to wait; your thoughts proving to be heavy on your mind and your shoulders. What are you doing here? Should you really be here? Should you really have booked an appointment with a sex therapist out of all? You had your doubts when your friends told you about it; since when have their solutions ever been fruitful to you? This takes you back to the night you were sobbing your sad story to them. You find yourself reliving the night, at that dingy bar, on a sweaty leather couch, a booth too dark for your own good, and the chaos of your friends.

It was a tough night, that one. Nightouts weren’t your scene anymore, not since you had gotten married. Spending your nights with your husband was more peaceful than going out to noisy clubs with your girlfriends. You had changed, and your friends gave you an earful about it every time they had the chance to. Regardless—that night—you wish to forget about it, burn the memory forever, bury it somewhere deep down within yourself, somewhere where you won’t retrieve it again.

Never again…

“Mrs. Choi?”

It’s a sweet voice that jerks you out of your daze, making your body flinch at the sudden sound. You sit up straight in the chair, coming face to face with your said therapist. His soft brown eyes bore into yours and his lips have a fragile curve etched on them; he shakes his head and straightens up as well.

You blink twice, retaliating. “I wasn’t asleep.”

“I never made any accusations,” he simply shrugs and turns on his heel. “If you’ve gotten too comfortable now, then you should see me inside, missus Choi.”

There’s spite laced to his words, so cleverly he enunciates them.

“Yes—yes,” you clear your throat and scamper on your feet, following a step behind him.

“I may have taken a minute over the proposed time, apologies,” he speaks up, and stands by the ajar door, guiding you inside his office, or the aforesaid room.

“It’s fine,” you whisper, purposely keeping your tone down. A soft shade of red coats your cheeks, embarrassed at the prior moment replaying in your mind.

“Please make yourself comfortable.” He states as he closes the door behind him.

The room is cosy. That’s the first word in your mind: cosy. There’s a long window to one side, overlooking the city. One of the remaining three sides of the walls is covered by paintings deftly hung on it, and the other two are left blank with a cream shade. The centre space is occupied by two armchairs facing each other at a slight angle, and coffee table separates the two. There are two floor lamps on the each side of the chairs, and some pages and a notepad are strewn about on the table. The rest of the room is neat, with necessary vacancies filled with furniture, and so on.

You sit down on the chair, focusing on a stray crease falling on the flounce of your dress. You have eerie fixations at times like these, times when your anxiety is speaking louder than your rationality. Murmured shuffling follows a soft grunt from him, he sits down on the chair opposite to you and crosses his legs. You hadn’t given him much of your attention before, though now, you’re gradually catching up on the little details. His hair is a dusky shade of blue, he has sleek and frameless glasses perched perfectly on the bridge of his nose; and more precisely, he’s clad in a black suit with a grey shirt. He’s lean, but not so much; he has a good built, and his height makes up for it.

“Before we start,” he clears his throat, grabbing a hold of his notepad from the table. “I would like to assure you that this is a safe space, and the doctor-patient confidentiality secures your privacy—which we’ve already signed on.”

You look up at him and nod your head, not making a sound.

He sighs and continues, “I would very much prefer if you were to use your words than staying mute.” Leaning back against the chair, he presses his lips together and breathes out, “considering it’s "our first session", I’ll cut you some slack. But I can’t help you unless you’re willing to be comfortable with me.”

This time, his eyes grow heavy on you; the intense stare delving through yours, makes your body shudder.

“I understand, doctor.” You mumble, “I’ll try to be upfront with you.”

“All’s in vain if you’re not relaxed,” he adds, his words sounding wispy to you. “Let’s not take up much of your time now. We shall start, I suppose?” he asks you.

“Surely.” You don’t know why you even spewed that word out, you didn’t want to sputter the first thing that came to your head.

“Great. First and foremost, I want to know what’s on your mind right now.”

It’s a simple question, right? Simple enough to answer without seemingly crushing down under the weight of your anxiety and stress. Right?

“Well, I’ll be honest. I’m not sure about seeking therapy for my intimate relationship with my husband.” You blurt, rolling your shoulders out. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s all new to me; how am I not supposed to be uneasy with this?”

“Alright,” he hums, his eyes straying off of you for a long minute before they’re back on you, piercing through your soft and confused gaze. “Think of me as someone whom you would share your feelings with. A friend? Maybe. We’re still bound to other liabilities though. If we were to, supposedly, take them into consideration, I believe that would make us friends with benefits—strangers with benefits sounds more cheerful on the ear, doesn’t it?”

You could only nod to him, acknowledging his speculations, however eldritch they might sound to you right now.

“Right. We’re both associated with each other in some sort of welfare,” he smiles weakly at you, “I’m not asking you to let your guard down, but I suppose, you could begin by telling me what your issue is. We can work out why you need therapy later on, that is after I understand your problem, Mrs. Choi.”

“You make somewhat reasonable points,” you mutter under your breath, looking away to peer out of the window, noticing the sudden change of hues in the sky. “I guess, I can comply with what you’ve proposed. I need someone to talk, anyway. Need to get these things off my mind—and why won’t a stranger, whom I’m paying a huge fee by the hour, be a better person for it.” You shrug, redirecting your attention to him.

He raises a brow at you, a blank look in his eyes, a stoic expression written all over his face. Leaning to the side in his chair, he rests his elbow on the armrest and lets his forefinger graze his lower lip. He wants you to speak your mind, you could see it in his eyes.

“My husband and I—my husband and I have been struggling with intimacy.” You squeak, “it’s starting to affect our relationship—our marriage. It’s too soon for us to bend.”

He hums again. “And how long have you been married for?”

“We’ve—almost eight years now.” You answer, “we met in college, became friends, graduated together, and destiny brought us here.”

“Marriages aren’t meant to be perfect,” he begins, “it’s very common for couples to face challenges, struggle with their emotions, their differences and time becomes completely irrelevant in such situations.” He lets out a soft sigh, “have you voiced out your feelings to him?”

“Many times,” you croak, “it always ends with him misunderstanding me. We grow further apart when it happens.”

He starts scribbling something on his notepad, “arguments are common too, Mrs. Choi. Your emotions are running high and if there’s anything you want to avoid, is creating misunderstandings or misconceptions.”

“I’m aware.” You look away from him, staring down at the ring tied around your finger, the diamond glinting ever so gently under the bashing rays of dwindling sun.

“Is there, perhaps, something else on your mind, Mrs. Choi?” he questions, his words striking nonchalant to you. In all seriousness, he’s hit the right spot; your mind had been elsewhere since you spoke about your problem with him.

Your mind is dwelling on your husband.

“I—I—I shouldn’t be saying this,” you stutter, fumbling with your thoughts and your words, your tongue growing heavy in your mouth.

“I can’t help you if you’re not honest with me, Mrs. Choi.”

His voice is what stays reverberating in your head when the silence grows, neither does he tend to break it nor do you; the weight of your emotions starts building up on your shoulders, till you’re physically slouching, till you grow heavy to your notions. You fidget with your ring, twisting and sliding it along your finger. He watches you quietly, noticing your lower lip trapped between your teeth, which dent it in till it starts bleeding gently, your chest convulsing to the erratic rhythm of your heart, and your trepidatious mannerisms.

He’s about to break the silence, but a sharp intake of his breath, snaps you out and you finally say out the words trapped between your teeth.

“I think he’s cheating on me.”

[COMING SOON]

SO IT GOES [M.LIST.]

[iburnedmyselfalive]

SEX THERAPIST.

nsfw! -- lowkey got the idea from some wattpad book i read a couple years ago LMAOAOA someone lmk what its called if yk what im talking about.

this was so rushed, but I wanna make more parts to this soooooo, should I ?? + not proofread sorry for any mistakes

Over the past few weeks, challenges have emerged in your relationship with your boyfriend, including a sexual issue. A friend suggested seeking the help of a relationship therapist, specifically a sex therapist.

Following this advice, both of you attended therapy sessions, which have been generally positive. The sessions have been conducted by Mr. Skywalker, and you couldn't help but notice his flawlessly attractive presence.

Today, Mr. Skywalker invited you to a session alone, as your boyfriend was away on a work trip and couldn't attend. Despite the familiarity of being in therapy sessions with your boyfriend, you found yourself unexpectedly nervous about being in Mr. Skywalker's office alone.

This uneasiness contrasted with the usual sessions where he sometimes appeared agitated when you had discussed certain relationship issues.

You subtly pushed open the door to his office, finding him absorbed in his laptop. His intense gaze lifted as he noticed your entrance, and he grunted, "Good to see you," shutting his laptop without breaking eye contact.

Taking a seat across from him, you couldn't help but feel a mix of intimidation and attraction as his penetrating eyes swept over you, especially when they almost hungrily traced the lines of your pretty skirt.

"Hey," you greeted, adjusting yourself and placing your purse aside.

"How are you today?" he inquired, the discussion soon shifting towards your boyfriend, and he cut right to the chase.

"Any differences?" he demanded, a hint of authority in his tone. "Or just the same?"

With a sigh, you reluctantly nodded, "Just the same."

"hm, I see, today, we're going to try something" he declared, taking a pause before continuing, "different from our usual sessions,"

"Alright?" he asked, his gaze holding yours in a way that sent shivers down your spine.

And with that, you nodded.

"Now, hun, you know better than that, use your words," he advised, raising his eyebrows with a subtle challenge, making you gulp at the underlying intensity.

Despite the unease, you nodded again, confirming, "Yes, it's alright."

He nodded in approval, a sly smile playing on his lips. "There we go, that's better," he cooed.

You struggled to maintain composure as he rose slowly from his seat.

Fuck, he looked too good.

It felt almost wrong to acknowledge, but he exuded a captivating mix of intimidation and raw appeal. Giving you a piercing look, he wordlessly gestured for you to stand.

You complied, standing mere inches from him, reveling in the sizzling height difference that fueled your desires.

"Relax, you're nervous," he spoke in a low, commanding tone, his massive, yet surprisingly gentle hand tracing along your shoulder.

"Remember the breathing activities Nadia taught you?" he questioned, referencing a previous therapist.

You nodded.

"I want you to do those for me right now," he demanded, and you obeyed.

Inhaling deeply and exhaling slowly, you followed the practiced routine. Anakin's intense presence lingered, making your transformation into a calmer state palpable to both him and yourself.

"Good," he cooed, a low rumble in his voice.

"Very good," he continued, his unwavering gaze fixed on yours.

"You mentioned that when he touches you, he tends to rush things and doesn't take his time, right?" Anakin inquired.

You nearly choked on your words, but you managed to nod. "Yes, he rushes it," you concurred, and he nodded, trailing his fingers down your shoulders.

"You don't like that," he stated, and you just shrugged.

"If you want my help, you're going to have to talk to me," he asserted, his tone firm.

"So, I'm going to ask you again. You don't like it, correct?" he demanded, and without hesitation, you responded, "yes, It's not even enjoyable for me now," you explained, having this weird feeling inside of you.

Your eyes threatened to lose focus as his commanding lips left a trail of kisses along your neck.

"He doesn't get you squirming like this, does he?" he demanded, his breath sending shivers down your spine.

"He doesn't even bother to kiss me," you breathlessly responded, almost whimpering when Anakin abruptly halted his assault on your neck. Gripping your face with his two hands, he sneered, "Well, it's his loss."

Before you could fully process his words, he forcefully pulled you into a fervent kiss, his tongue asserting dominance while his hands explored your body. In response, your hands navigated the contours of his physique. Standing on your toes, you seized his shirt, pulling him in for more.

"I'm going to teach you," he growled between kisses, his voice dripping with intimidation and promise.

"I'm going to show you what it truly means to feel good."

He was making his intentions unmistakably clear.

You offered no resistance, the unfamiliar sensations captivating you entirely. A low whimper escaped your lips as you looked up at him with pleading eyes, your voice adopting a desperate tone.

"Do whatever you want to me, please," you begged.

In response, a grin spread across his face, his gaze growing more intense. He effortlessly lifted you, carrying you to his desk and placing you on the edge without a care for the paperwork that might have fallen.

Unconcerned about the potential mess, he kissed you again, deliberately slow and enticing, leaving you craving more as his lips reluctantly pulled away. Descending to your neck, he gradually knelt on the ground, spreading your legs apart.

Inhaling your scent, he groaned as his fingers teased the material of your skirt.

"Cute," he murmured before his tongue traced over your damp panties.

"He's never made you this wet, has he? This all f'me?" he cooed, and with a whimper, you nodded. Your hands tangled in his hair as his tongue continued to trace circles over your panties.

"Raise your hips for me, baby," he murmured, standing up slightly. Complying, you lifted your hips, allowing him to smoothly pull down both your skirt and panties, discarding them carelessly on the floor.

Returning to his previous position on his knees, he watched you with an intensity that left you feeling exposed.

Shyly attempting to close your legs, he intervened without hesitation, forcefully parting them. Biting his lip at the revealing sight before him, his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you closer to the edge.

He planted a couple of kisses on your inner thighs before his tongue skillfully lapped over your drenched core. His eyes remained locked onto yours, never wavering for a second, intensifying the heat of the moment.

Your body quivered at his sudden actions, and soon enough, he began sucking at your clit, causing your head to arch back in pleasure.

"fuck ani, 's good" you cried out, legs shaking from how good it was, how good he was.

He never let anyone refer to him with the nickname, 'ani', but an exception was made for you.

"Louder," he demanded, and you complied, moaning and whimpering in response to his skilled ministrations.

Your breath caught as you almost moaned at the sight of his chin glistening with your arousal. His nose grazing your clit with each rhythmic motion elicited loud moans from you. His unyielding grip on your thighs persisted, and he skillfully positioned you to allow the subtlest rocking of your hips back and forth.

"oh my gosh" you cried out, your hand clutching the lamp on his desk for dear life as your legs trembled uncontrollably.

"mmm," he cooed, continuing to suck on your clit. "Such a good pussy this is," he murmured appreciatively.

"Want all your damn juices in my mouth. Come on, baby, cum," he grunted, and with those words, and his absolute torture going on with your cunt, you made a mess all over his face.

He persisted in his relentless actions even after you reached your peak, a smirk playing on his lips as he finally stood up. Grabbing your trembling hand, he guided it over to the bulge in his pants.

"Feelin' me, baby?" he sneered, and with a pout, you nodded.

"Where do you want this, here, hm?" he taunted, using his other hand to press down on your lower stomach.

Again, you nodded.

"Yes, please," you begged, and he chuckled, a menacing tone underscoring the sound.

Sealing his lips to yours, he tasted you through the kiss, reveling in the control he held. His hands roughly palmed your breasts through your shirt before pulling away for the slightest second to take off your top, following your bra.

"Off," you whined, eyeing his pants as you undid the buttons on his shirt. Soon, both of you had discarded clothes, each piece carelessly thrown around his office.

"Such a pretty pussy, been denied for so long, huh?" he jeered, removing his boxers.

You found yourself almost intimidated by his size, and as he brought it to your slit, he chuckled while deliberately teasing it against your folds.

"Lay down," he demanded, and you whined.

"But your desk, what if it—" you started expressing concern, but he cut you off.

"Do you think I give a damn about my desk, love? I don't give a single shit if it breaks. I'm going to fuck you," he spat out.

"I'm going to fuck you just the way you deserve it."

[the-californicationist]

Cali's Kinktober: Day 11

Kinktober Masterlist labor ipse voluptas - “there is pleasure in the work” Simon "Ghost" Riley x gn!reader Kinks > massage, workplace sex acts, edge play, men whimpering Full tags on AO3 - MDNI - Read at your own risk.

Simon has been your massage client for years, but when he comes in with a groin injury, your working relationship becomes much, much different.

Gender-neutral reader, no mention of pronouns or genitalia. Some references to past trauma/violence inspired by canon events.

Sometimes, when you were working your hands over the flesh and bones of Simon Riley, you closed your eyes and used your fingers to know him, pretending that your sight was gone from you, letting the scars and the knots in his muscles tell you his story. It was one you’d read before, rubbing his skin like it was a book of braille, letting each ridge and healed wound speak their lines and expound upon his violent past. 

You fanned out your fingers to touch him, wide and spread across his back, rubbing your fine oils into his body and feeling the tension loosen in him as you moved through his pain. You could trace the edges of his old tattoos, finding where the artist dug the needles too deep, black lines that healed through the old, pale cuts. 

His left shoulder told you stories about two knife wounds and a bullet that the medics hadn’t bothered to remove. His right arm had a torn extensor tendon, and for him to stretch it all the way out, you needed to coax the bicep above it, pushing and pulling the muscle like you knew he needed you to, reaching deep within him to find the pliant relief he was looking for.   

You’d been Simon’s massage therapist for almost five years, and you knew as much about him as he did about you. It was strange; you could talk to each other about the deepest parts of yourselves, the way you thought the world should be, about how far human beings could reach into the universe, about space and time, about the rights and wrongs of society, and yet you knew very little of his actual day to day life. 

You knew he was a soldier. He had to tell you that much. When you first saw him lying prone on your table, the blanket covering his ass and not much else, you had to hold your breath to keep from gasping at what you saw. People’s bodies did not disturb you. Wrinkles, acne, hair - it was all just normal humanity. No one was perfect. But, Simon’s body unsettled you. He looked like he’d been through literal hell. Like demons had pierced him with their tridents and burned him with their fire. He’d been shot, stabbed, pierced, bitten, broken, and ruined by war to a particular degree that made you wonder why he hadn’t been retired for these bodily atrocities. 

On your first day together, you’d told him point-blank,

“I’d ask if you had any prior injuries, Mr. Riley, but we only have an hour together.”

He chuckled, smiling at you from his raised position on his elbows, 

“Fair enough. And, call me Simon, if tha’s alright.”

“That’s alright, Simon. Let’s get to work.”

So, you had. In the beginning, the initial awkwardness of the act of massaging someone was the same as it always was. You got to know his body, his preferences. You knew not to press too hard on his right trapezius unless you wanted a fist to dart out and grip you around the wrist. You also knew that he was a bit vocal. Some of the noises he made for you, particularly when you treated his calves and quads, haunted your dreams in the most lurid way. 

But, everything had changed between you when he had come in last week with a sore groin muscle, inside of his right thigh. 

“What’s with the limp?” You’d asked him when he walked into the office.

“Trainin’ day gone wrong. Think you can put it right again, love?”

That Manchester accent with the pet name always stuck you right in the belly, but you pretended like it didn’t. You refused to admit you had feelings for your client. It wasn’t professional, and you were one of the best in your field. It was unethical. But, it was hard to convince yourself of that fact when you remembered how he groaned for you when you relaxed his clenched hamstring a few months ago and he’d cried into the terrycloth face pillow,

“Mngh! Tha’s good, love. Fuck, tha’s it.”

That one was on repeat in your head. 

Today, you gave him some time to get set up in the room, giving him specific instructions to lie on his back first so that you could treat the affected area. You weren’t shy about a little upper thigh, and you’d touched Simon Riley in just about every way possible by now. It’d be old hat. Right?

Wrong.

You’d started on his quad, warming up the muscle to your touch, filling your hands with oil so that they would slip across his hairy skin. But, he’d stopped you, grimacing and grunting through his teeth,

“It’s higher. Fuck me, it stings.”

“Can you point to the pain?” You watched as he moved the thin sheet up and over his hip, trying to shield his cock from you while showing you where he was injured. 

His hand was rubbing down his adductor brevis, the innermost part of his thigh, a muscle that led right to the join of where his leg became crotch. 

“I see. Can you turn your knee out?”

“No,” he growled, obviously trying to hold his pain at bay. 

“Alright,” you reassured him, “It’s okay like this. Just… tell me if I touch you where you aren’t comfortable.”

“I just need you to bloody touch me, love. I’ll take anythin’ you got at this point.”

You looked down at his leg, and then you looked at his cock and balls hidden by the sheet. Back to the leg. Back to his cock. 

Stop it! Stop. Don’t look at it. You punished yourself, but that only made you want to look at it again. 

If you didn’t start massaging him, he was going to know you were nervous, and you didn’t want him to feel uncomfortable, so you poured more oil into your hand and started at the lowest possible point before gently working your way up the muscle. 

The noise that came out of him was downright pornographic. 

“Are… are you alright, Simon?” You asked, stopping to let him recover.

He nodded, biting down on his fist to stop himself from crying out again.

You repeated the movement. Another delicious grumble came rolling out of his chest. He was breathing hard, and you could see his enormous core flexing and expanding under the stress. 

You moved your hand back and forth over the muscle, working it over and over, feeling the tension loosen under your touch. But, as he became more and more pain free, his body started to get worked up in a different sort of way. 

You’d tried to stay away from the sheet, but there was only so much room down there, and his giant prick was hanging against your wrist as you rubbed him. It wasn’t his fault. He’d covered himself. There really wasn’t anything wrong, per se. It was just a body part. But, it gave him away.

By the time he had relief in his muscle, his immense rod was standing at full attention, erect and joyful in your ministrations. He was so big that he was tugging the sheet from the other side of the table, lolling up his abdomen and reaching much higher than his navel. 

The sheet was doing very little to protect his modesty. 

“Does that feel better, Simon?” You asked, trying to hide the nervousness in your voice.

“Aye, love. Feels fuckin’ brilliant. Little higher, yeah?”

He still hadn’t opened his eyes, and if he knew he was hard, he didn’t apologize for it. If you moved your hands higher, you’d be pressing into his pubic mound, basically massaging the base of his cock. So, you moved just the smallest bit higher, trying your best to avoid his fully hard dick. 

“Mmfff-fuck. Tha’s so good.”

You couldn’t stop staring at him while you rubbed his groin. Every time you pulled the muscle, his cock would flag, and every time you pushed back up, kneading him and helping him relax, his blood would pump through his shaft, making him throb. It was intoxicating. 

Then, you noticed that he had stopped making noises. You looked up and, to your horror, he was watching you gaze longingly at his phallus, like you were a dog starving for a bone. 

You looked away, quickly finding a spot on the floor, but it was too late.

He didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. His eyes locked onto yours and he took your hand in his gently, and slowly dragged it up the body of his cock all the way to the swollen head. Then, he put his hands back at his sides and settled in, looking just as neutral as he usually did when you prepared to massage any other part of him. 

Was he really asking you to do this? Were you seriously about to give Simon a happy ending in a professional massage office? 

He felt your hesitation, and he smiled at you,

“Go on, love. Touch me how you need to touch me.”

You rubbed more oil on your hands and turned down the sheet, tucking it away as if you were exposing an arm or leg or some other appendage, trying to be as professional as you could despite the fact that you were about to do an incredibly heinous thing. 

But, you desperately wanted to touch him, and you didn’t think you’d have another chance. He’d probably never want to make an appointment here again. So, you decided to seize the moment. 

You started at his base, massaging the pubic mound around his cock, the tendons and flesh that supported his length, and then you moved to the bottom of his shaft. Carefully, you moved your thumbs over his wide shaft, making small circles of firm pressure, feeling the tension throbbing inside of him as you began to touch him there. 

Then, his moans. But, they were softer this time. It was a side of him you never got to see, an ultimate vulnerability. He was trusting you more now than he ever had. 

You moved up his shaft in a methodical way, telegraphing your movements, making sure he knew where you were going to touch him next. No surprises. 

Finally, you made it all the way up to his cockhead. You spent plenty of time rubbing your fingertips over his sensitive frenulum, touching the crown only when you knew he was ready, smearing your oil over his foreskin and pulling it down to reveal his swollen glans. 

He hissed, so sensitive under your touch. You paused, speaking low and even, trying to make your voice sound calm,

“Everything alright, Simon?”

“Mm, fuckin’ hell, too good.”

“Remember to take long, deep breaths. It helps release any tension you might be experiencing,” you teased him with your therapy voice, trying to get a rise out of him more than you already had. 

He looked down at you, incredulous, and then cocked a grin when he saw that you were playing with him. 

You rubbed his full length, clasping both of your hands around him and stroking him from base to tip and back again. Never too fast, never too slow; you always went at the exact speed that caused him to throb, knowing that you were milking him just on the edge of pleasure. If you went faster or gripped him harder, he would come, and you weren’t ready for that yet. So, you edged him, knowing his tells, listening to the timbre of his moans. You’d had five years to listen to this man when he found physical relief, so you used it against him. 

Just when he would get close, you’d return to his base, making circles in his lower abdomen, ignoring his sensitive cock, listening to him chuff and growl in frustration. But, he didn’t ask. Never did he put his desire into words. It would make it real. It would ruin the moment. Right now, you could both still pretend that he was getting a massage. 

You made your way back up, toying with him, bringing him moaning and whimpering back to the edge before sending him away again, dragging him back down in a torrent of huffing breaths and a furrowed brow. Then, you let go of him entirely, covering him back up with the sheet and stepping away from the table.

“Love, please…” He whined aloud, his voice demonically fractured and deep, resonating in his chest, staring up at you like you’d stuck him with your own blade, an unexpected betrayal.

“I’m afraid our time is up, Simon.”

“Like hell it is,” he grunted, leaping up from the table and towering over you. 

“Your injury seems to have responded nicely to our treatment, and I can –”

Simon grabbed you around the nape of your neck, dragging your body up against his, using his other hand to fist his cock, holding it out for you to grab.

“Finish what you started, love, or I’ll finish it in you.”

His eyes were nothing but serious, and you were so turned on by his fiery passion, you grabbed his cock, knelt down on the floor and fed him into your mouth. Only the head would fit at first, but that was enough. The obscene cries that came out of his throat told you everything you needed to know about his pleasure. 

You popped his head out of your mouth and jerked him, fast and hard, smirking from your knees, 

“C’mon then. Finish it in me.”

The look of shock that painted his face was like a prize that you treasured for yourself, and as you bobbed your head back and forth, sucking him as best you could, he leaned his free hand against the wall and curled his fingers into your neck even tighter. 

“Mngh… mngh… mngh… Shit! M’gonna come, love. Gonna come… fuck!”

He tried to pull away, worried that you would not want to take him in your mouth, but you sucked him deeper, keeping his pounding head sealed inside your lips. He started to orgasm, and it filled your tongue, forcing you to swallow if you wanted to breathe. You swallowed more and more of his salty cream, lapping at his drooling head, slurping and sucking to your heart’s content. 

“Goddamnit… fuck! Fuck, holy fuck…” He was coming apart above you, his release so pure and powerful that you watched him tremble, his eyes rolling back in his head like a shark ready to bite, and you felt like you were on top of the world. 

His shaft kept throbbing, spilling more and more of his come into you, and you kept sucking him, hoping to get every last drop. 

Then, he let go of your neck and moved his hand to cup your cheek, touching you with gentle adoration,

“Bloody hell, love. What was that?”

You popped him out of your mouth once more and gave him a long lick, a cunning grin on your face,

“Injury treatment?” 

“Fuck me, I’m still injured. C’mere.”

[spncvr]

waiting room | s. reid

summary: spencer can't seem to escape the girl in the waiting room

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of reid's addiction & tobias hankel, mentions of kidnapping and mass shootings (in, like, a joking way??) my terrible, terrible humour, ENGLISH IS NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE LMAO, this is deffo terrible, pls tell me if i missed anything!!

a/n: ok idk if i wanna continue this and make it a series so lmk lol (also im on writers block so i literally can't come up with SHIT)

SPENCER REID WAS a pessimist.

At least, that’s what he’d call himself. His colleague, Derek Morgan would most likely (and by most likely, he means, definitely already has) call him an overanalysing introvert. But in Spencer’s defense, there has never really been a good reason to go out and “live your life”. Consider this:

Go to the new coffee shop? Mass shooting.

Go to the mall? A child gets abducted.

Leave the apartment for a short while? A stalker finds out where he lives, kidnaps him in his sleep, and, in a nightmarish turn, auctions off his organs to the bidder in the black market.

Besides, his life isn’t some John Green book. There were no life-affirming adventures or poetic moments of self-discovery awaiting him. Carpe diem? A fanciful notion for others, but for him, not so much. Sorry, Mr. Keating.

Yet life—or more accurately, bureau protocol— had its own plans. Ever since the Tobias Hankel incident, a visit to the psychologist wasn’t just a request but rather (unfortunately for him) an order. Which meant, he’d have to risk his entire life to get up and walk for ten whole minutes just to sit and wait, in this glaringly bright waiting room, when he could have stayed at home and read the new books he’d gotten from his team as a get-well gift.

Speaking of which, why the gifts? He was fine. Physically, at least. But really, when have you ever seen get-well-soon cards in an asylum? Well, alright, maybe he was being a little bit dramatic. A visit to the psychologist doesn’t mean he’ll be institutionalised—but then again, Spencer Reid was never one to wear rose-tinted glasses. 

This is his third time in the waiting room, and she’s always there. He isn’t sure as to why she is, because, well, unlike himself, she was very clearly an optimist—and at least, from the looks of it, she hasn’t been kidnapped and drugged in the past month. But she's sitting there again, in the exact same chair for the past three weeks, along with a beacon of smiles where joy usually fears to trend. Maybe, he isn't as good of a profiler as he’d like to think he is.

“Dr. Reid?” the call of his name rips him out of his thoughts. He looks up to see the same kind woman he’s seen the past three weeks—not the one in the waiting room, no, he means his therapist.

Dr. Brown was easy to profile: She wore heels to make herself look taller, and she hated wearing glasses, apparent by how she would continuously place them atop her head instead of her nose. Her teeth were abnormally perfect, which meant, she’d had to wear braces when she was younger—which (from his humbling experience) means she wasn’t exactly the most popular at school. Perhaps, psychology felt appealing to her because she could help people like her. 

“How are you?” she asks, her pen clicking.

Usually, he’d offer her a meek shrug. The kind that could win awards for its commitment to non-commitment. Besides, he’s not one to talk about how he feels—there isn’t much to say, anyway. And let’s face it,  “How are you?” in the grand tapestry of human interaction is almost as genuine as a three-dollar bill. And, get this, the average person asks “How are you?” 6,739 times a year but only listens to the answer about half the time—well, okay, maybe those numbers might have been fabricated, but isn’t the sincerity behind the question also made up? But instead of telling her all this, he remembers what Hotch had told him, one, two, three weeks ago: that he ought to cooperate with Dr. Brown or the board won’t be happy. So, he kisses his teeth before he says:

“Fine. I’m fine.”

And the session went on.

PLS TELL ME IF I SHLD CONTIUE OR NOT LOLOLOL spam my inbox with ideas I BEG.

[seeingivy]

water lillies

ryomen sukuna x f!reader

**part of my best friend's older brother fic

previous part linked here

an: two chapters back to back. also the last one :'(

--

sukuna realizes that repetitive phrases help him in the year that follows. that no matter how dangerous it feels, the feeling of hope is one that he has to keep in his chest, regardless of his track record of horrendously horrible bad luck. 

he’s not going to die tomorrow. yuuji’s perfectly healthy. he’s going to replace the plastic finger on your ring with a real one someday. you’re all going to live very long lives. 

there’s a nervous anticipation, an excited one simmering in his chest, as picks up the little tray of drinks – two strawberry matchas, an iced coffee, and a scone – as he takes it back to the table, where the group of them are waiting. 

“what took you so long?” sammy asks. 

“you’re so impatient.” sukuna responds, handing the drinks over to the moms and sammy, before splitting his scone in half and handing it over to yuuji. 

“i’m working on that.” sammy grates, giving him an irritated look. 

sukuna smiles. 

sammy was working on that, after he had very graciously given her the number to his therapist after she called him crying asking for it. 

it seemed that sammy had one too many fights with you, hurt mai one too many times, and realized that she was finally ready to let go of lifetime of hurt that she had accrued. anger issues, impatience, and the insurmountable amount of aching that always seemed to take residence in her chest was on its way out. 

with his help. and with yours, even if you didn’t know about it entirely. 

“wait, where’s y/n?” yuuji asks. 

sukuna smiles. 

“she has class.” 

“oh.” yuuji responds. 

sukuna watches as the confusion contorts in his face, albeit, the strange nature of the gathering catching him off guard. both of the moms, sammy, and yuuji were called here for an early morning rendezvous at what might be the only good cafe in their town – play coffee. 

and sukuna would have waited to schedule this for when you were free, if he didn't have something important to ask all of them. a question that you couldn’t necessarily be present for. 

“okay. i’m not treating you all to coffee for no reason.” sukuna states. 

“i fucking told you. he would never be this nice.” sammy whispers over to yuuji, the two of them nodding at one another. 

“you’re so kind, sammy. you have such a way with words.” sukuna deadpans. 

“i live to please.” she resopnds. 

“is everything okay?” mrs. itadori asks. 

sukuna smiles, before reaching over to squeeze her open hand. 

three months prior, his mom was the last person on the very long list of people that he deserved an explanation too. even more than deserved an explanation – but another person who just deserved to know why he left, what he had been through. 

satoru and suguru had taken it really well, satoru offering him one second of seriousness to very earnestly tell him that he was very happy that sukuna had stayed long enough for the two of them to become friends. nanami had shared his own experiences – the two of them being intrinsically closer than before from their shared past – and shoko responded by giving him gummy bears and a hug, which meant more to him than she could really understand. 

it shattered lots of things for yuuji, something that he felt insanely guilty about – for not catching on to all of it sooner. but sukuna could also tell that it had done something for the two of them, to talk about something, whatever it was that they went through together as they were kids, and it only made him love him more. 

and his mom. for the first time, after a very earnest scolding about parenting and responsibility from your mom, was worried about him. he found it a little bit overbearing at times, the way she would call and remind him at night that she loved him very much and that he was her entire world – but the thought was there. and on the days that he found it hard to quiet the voices in his head, it really did make all the difference. 

to hear you remind him. and his mom and yuuji, sammy and everyone else in between. 

“it’s great. i just have to ask for your permission for something, that’s all.” sukuna murmurs. 

sukuna watches their faces drop. he realizes after the fact that it was a bad choice of words – especially for his mom – when they were the exact ones that he used before he left for europe. 

“i’m not moving.” sukuna clarifies. 

“oh thank god.” his mom responds, dramatically pressing her hand to her chest as he rolls her eyes. 

he looks over at the four of them, a simmering warmth in his eyes, as he takes in the looks on their faces. and it seems that in his delay, the most perceptive of the group, has figured out what’s happening all too fast. 

“oh my god. you’re going to do it, aren’t you?” your mom murmurs. 

“what?” sammy asks. 

“you…you’re going to propose?” she asks. 

“what? you’re going to propose? to y/n?” yuuji asks, his voice almost frantic. 

“YOU GUYS ARE GETTING MARRIED?”  his mom squeals, so loud that it earns her a wary look from everyone else in the store. 

sukuna winces as he lifts his hands, beckoning for the group of them to lower their voices, as he reaches into his pocket and places the little green box at the center of the table. sammy’s the first to snatch it, eyes wide and filled with tears as she opens it up, to the little circular cut diamond, set into the golden band that he had picked out almost a year prior – the second you got home from the trip he went on for his birthday.  

he had been holding on to it for a better part of the year. and it was finally time to use it. he was paranoid that he would never get to replace the plastic ring that he gave you, so he figured that he’d buy the real one as soon as he could – just as another solace to himself that he would actually get to do it. 

“wait. you’re really going to propose to her?” sammy whispers. 

“i am. with all of your permission, of course.” sukuna states.  

he watches as they all give him bright smiles, before reaching forward and placing their hands on his. 

“oh, sukuna. of course, you can marry my daughter.” your mom responds, giving him a bright smile 

“holy shit. you’re actually going to be my brother.” sammy states. 

“that’s if y/n says yes.” mrs. itadori states. 

sukuna gives her a glare. 

“what a vote of confidence, mom.” sukuna deadpans. 

“they already wear those plastic rings all the time. they literally think they’re already married in their heads. don’t be annoying, mom.” yuuji responds, huffing an irritated sigh at her as she rolls her eyes back. 

sukuna takes that as a vote for yes. 

“i’m obviously joking. the two of you have no sense of humor.” mrs. itadori responds. 

sukuna turns his head to the side, eyes expectant as he waits for his mom to give a proper response, noting that phenomenon – of getting so emotional that the feelings get crumpled up in your throat is one that he gets from his mom – as she reaches forward, a warm hand on his shoulder as she squeezes. 

“this is all i’ve ever wanted for you. not only because she’s my best friends daughter, but because…well, it’s all you deserve, my sweet boy.” she murmurs. 

he watches as him mom turns her head to the side, shooting an excited smile to your mom, as he notes that the wedding gears are probably turning in both of their heads just from that shared glance. 

“i’ll need a favor from all of you. two from yuuji and sammy.” sukuna states. 

sukuna smiles, before pulling out the little envelope in his pocket, the four of them giving him weary eyes as he opens it up. 

“whatever you need, son.” your mom responds. 

sukuna memorizes that line – the way that she said it – and commits it to memory. 

“you’ll all have to meet us in france first.” 

--

you and yuuji accompany megumi to the tattoo parlor as he gets his first set of ink. it’s a special design that yuuji drew out for him, a set of constellations that the two of them had charted together on one of their first dates together. 

the tattoo parlor still smells the same as you remember it, bright designs printed on the wall and neon lights, as you take in the little room – the magnets on the fridge and the little frames on toji’s desk. you note that there’s a picture that you took a few months prior, of tsumiki and megumi standing next to him. 

“hi toji.” 

you watch as he looks up from his little work station, his tools and guns meticulously organized, as he taps the seat in the middle, giving megumi a bright smile. 

“right here, kid.” 

after the funeral, you had finally found the time to reconcile with megumi about what happened on your birthday. the two of you got dangerously drunk, talking about deadbeat dads and everything in between, before yuuji and sukuna had to drag you out of there on your ass. 

about how your dad forgot you. about how megumi had never talked to his own. about how when they both left, how your moms spoke so little of them that you almost felt like they were ghosts of nothing. and that on most nights, you were filled with such a deep curiosity – of who they were, of what could have been. 

when yuuji dragged the two of you out of there, he had realized how much he had probably annoyed sukuna on the nights that he asked him to do that. 

but it seems that in the horror stories that you had shared with megumi, he realized that he was left with an agonizing amount of questions about his own father that he couldn't ignore. and one day on a whim – he had marched to the tattoo parlor all on his own and asked all of them, basically till toji was free of every answer that he could possibly give. 

and megumi realizded that there was more to the entire situation that met the eye. that there were things his mom had purposely omitted, for reasons he could understand but not get behind. and weirdly enough, by some twist of fate, was now going to reconcile with his own father. 

you were more than supportive. only because whatever strange fatherly advice of figure toji was trying to be for megumi, he was also trying to do for yuuji as well. it filled you with an almost insane amount of joy, that toji was so approving of yuuji, that he thought the two of them were meant to be together. 

and yuuji deserved that – someone who wanted to be his father. that was proud and happy for him for who he chose to love. that liked him just as he was. 

“you ready, megs?” toji asks. 

“yeah. this is the design.” meugmi responds, handing him over the little half sheet that yuuji had drawn out, as toji nods. 

you take toji’s side as he starts to stencil in the little design at his little workstation, yuuji leaning on the side of the little chair as him and megumi talk in hushed tones. 

“hi toji.” 

he glares at you. 

“do i know you?” he asks. 

you roll your eyes, slightly shoving him in the side, as you lean forward, watching him stencil the little design with his purple marker. 

“you’re hilarious, toji.” 

“i’m a part time comedian. i take tips.” 

you fish into your purse, reaching for one of the coins in there, and throw it onto the little tin working space. 

“you’re so generous!” he deadpans. 

“I live to please.” you joke. 

toji smiles, averting his eyes as you follow his gaze. he’s staring at megumi and yuuji, the two of them with their hands locked into together and laughing under their breaths. and you smile, only for toji to glare at the sweet look you’re giving him. 

while he’s just as much of a sap as sukuna, he hates to be up front about it. especially when it comes o you, because you always feel the need to make a comment about it to him. half because you want him to know that you appreciate what he’s doing for both of them. and because it’s really fun to irritate him. 

you imagine this is how satoru feels when he annoys sukuna. 

“shut up.” 

“i didn’t say anything.” you respond. 

“you were saying it with your face.” 

“you’re projecting!” 

toji glares, sketching the shading on the little constellation, as he heaves a sigh. 

“never did thank you, you know.” 

“for?” 

“dunno. telling him about your shit dad. he never would have come here if he didn’t.” 

“well, i for one, love to tell people about my shit dad. it makes for a funny story.” 

toji smiles. 

“he really didn’t recognize ya?” 

you shake your head. 

“he thought i was sukuna’s girlfriend from europe.” you state. 

“do you want me to kill him?” toji asks. 

you laugh. 

“that’s okay. yuuji punched him for me.” 

“eh? cupcake over there? there’s no way” 

you grin. toji very lovingly calls yuuji cupcake – only because the first time yuuji met him, he decided to bring a box of cupcakes that he consequently dropped on the sidewalk before he could even make it to toji’s apartment. 

“that’s right.” 

“no shit. he doesn’t have it in him. he’s so….sunshine and rainbows. like you.” 

“had a full bruised hand and everything! you’re forgetting that he’s sukuna’s brother.” 

“that’s fair.” toji states. 

there’s a pause. 

“speaking of, how is he?” 

“sukuna?” 

toji nods. 

“he’s okay. doing good, i think. i mean, he definitely has days where he’s…where it’s harder than others. but i’m glad that he trying to work on it now, at least try to be a little bit more open about it.” you state. 

“you know, he came into my shop, a shitty little angry sixteen year old begging me to give him a tattoo.” 

“and you broke the law and gave one to him.” you state. 

“yes. but only because at the time, i could…i could tell that he needed that. and i talked to him about stuff here and there, and i sat there and thought about how if my kid was feeling like this, i’d give them that so they wouldn’t do something more drastic. hurt themselves or something, ya know?” 

you frown. 

“yeah.” 

“and well, it’s fucking great. the fucking idiot walks in here smiling all the time. tells you all his weird shit even though he fucking hates doing it, or at least at the time, he did. he even seems more lively or younger or some shit compared to then. whatever it was that was wearing him down back then has long left him. so don’t worry about him too much? that one’s a fighter.” toji states. 

you smile, your heart thumping in your chest. 

“yeah. yeah, he is.” you respond. 

toji gives you a smile, tilting his head to the side as he beckons for you to join him at his megumi’s side. 

--

sukuna’s voice is muffled against your neck, lips warm on your skin, as he whispers. you’re eying the dresses that you have left – a flowery pink pattern and the white silk dress that sammy had picked out with you weeks prior. 

“wear that one.” 

“what?” 

“the white one. the one with the lace shit, that’s long. i want you to wear that one.” sukuna states. 

you frown. 

“i was saving that one.” 

“for?” sukuna grins. 

when sukuna brings you to france, you know that he’s going to propose to you. because on one of the last days of your trip, he’s taking you to the musée de l’orangerie, where monet’s water lilies are. and you know that true to his word, he’s going to propose there, just like he promised you almost a year ago in that dirty tattoo parlor. 

but you can’t say it forthright. that you’re saving the pretty white dress you have for the day that he’s going to propose. because it’s presumptuous to say he's going to propose, and knowing him, the element of surprise is something that he would have wanted maintained. 

but that doesn’t mean that sukuna doesn’t try to goad it out of you. he hints at it all the time – asking you why you save the dress for the end of the trip, why you’re saving some of your better jewelry for the last days, asking why you wanted to get your nails touched up towards the middle of the trip. 

it’s thin ice that the two of you walk on, that neither of you acknowledge. it’s what makes it exciting. 

“wear this one today, okay?” 

you frown, before scaling away to your suitcases, eyeing the dresses that are left in the bag

“wait but…” 

“you’re wearing the white.” sukuna demands. 

“i want to…” 

“wear the white. trust me, you’ll want to wear it today.” sukuna whispers, leaning over the little distance between the two of you, as he offers you a wink. 

you pause, testing the waters. 

“but…we’re going to giverny today.” 

“that’s right.” 

the water lilies are in paris. he can’t be proposing today. 

“you want me to wear this dress…this white dress…to giverny.” 

sukuna grins. 

“yes. the pink one is better for paris. you know i love pink.” 

you sigh, looking down at the fabric. he did have a thing for you in pink. you give in, putting together the outfit – the white dress, the mary jane shoes that sukuna had picked out for you, and a little pearl clip to secure your hair back. 

sukuna’s taking some extreme lengths – pressing his head in between your legs to buckle your shoes, attentively putting the clip in your hair, and pressing soft featherlike kisses to basically any patch of skin that you can find. 

“you’re in a mood today.” 

“i’m just really excited for giverny.” 

you understand the excitement once you get there. giverny’s the smallest little village in the north of france, a little bit of an hour away from where the two of you were staying, and is filled with the brightest, most beautiful flowers that you’ve ever seen in your life. 

you get into town in the early hours of the morning, the two of you giving each other excited smiles as you set out to the little town. the two of you eat breakfast together in the smallest bed and breakfast, sukuna takes an obscene amount of pictures, and you buy a little charm for your bracelet. 

sukuna gets uncharacteristically quiet, a light pink tinge on his cheeks, as he leads you down a winding road, unti you end up at a little house at the end of the way. it’s magnificent – a few people teetering in and out of the doors – as you eye the brick walls and the green window panes. there’s bright pink flowers at the front, muted purples and greens all around, as you look over at him, taken aback by the fact that he’s already looking at you. 

“sukuna?” 

“this is why we’re in giverny.” he murmurs, lightly pulling at your wrist as he takes you in through the middle of the house, offering a spare glance to the people milling around, and taking you through the back. 

his hand is warm in yours as you walk out to the little backyard, a green bridge across the little pools of water, with willowing trees dousing the entire area in the shade of the calm sun. he leads you right to the center of the bridge, the two of you leaning your chins on the tops of your hands as you look down at the water, your little reflections staring back at you. 

“did you notice what’s in the water?” 

you look around, feeling your heart drop in your chest, at the water lilies almost decorating the entire pond – pink flowers with lily pads of green – as you widen your eyes, the wetness glassing over your eyes as you look over at sukuna, who has the softest smile on his face. 

“i know that i’d lost the element of surprise when i told you that i wanted to propose to you at the water lilies in the musée de l’orangerie. i figured the next best thing was taking you to the real water lilies that the painting was based off of.”  

“wait. wait, this is…” 

“claude monet’s house. his garden, more specifically, and the real water lilies from the painting.” 

you pause.

“you’re going to propose.” you state. 

sukuna shakes his head. 

“not exactly.”

you feel your heart drop.

“what?” 

“i’m going to marry you.” 

you feel your throat dry. and your head spin. and your heart pounding in your chest – because surely, he can’t be serious. 

“sukuna?” you whisper. 

he laughs. 

“don’t freak out. but i’m going to marry you.” he repeats, the tenor in his voice so calm that it nearly freaks you out. 

you reach forward, hands on his shoulders as you squeeze hard, the wetness pouring onto your cheeks as you lean forward, smiling. 

“i would love to marry you. i’d do it right now but..but we can’t just..our moms, your outfit and i…” 

sukuna stops you mid sentence. 

“your sister and my brother are here with our moms. they’re actually watching from that bush if you look back.” 

you turn around, following the direction of sukuna’s finger, as he leans forward, wrapping his arms around your waist and his voice like honey in your ear as he continues. you see four sets of eyes – and yuuji giving you an embarrassingly wild wave – as sammy yanks him back down. 

“sammy has a veil. she said it’ll hook into the pearl clip that she gifted you. my mom picked wedding rings for us. your mom got ordained. and yuuji decided that he’s going to be the best man and the man of honor for both of us. your mom also has that weird flower shit for me that’s supposed to go on my jacket.” 

“wait…wait you really…” 

“speaking of, as much as i like this plastic ring…” 

sukuna uses his hands to spin you around, until you’re facing him this time, hands pressed against his chest as you look up at him. 

“i told you that i was going to give you a real one.” 

you watch as he reaches into his pocket, plucking the perfect little ring out of the box, as he reaches forward, slipping the plastic green one off of your hand and replacing it with the sparking diamond. the former goes into the depths of his pocket, but you’re too preoccupied with the one he’s just given you. 

you look down at it, at the way it glints in the sun, before looking back up at him, at the smile on his face as he expectantly waits for a response – to everything he’s just laid out in front of you. 

“you’re really doing this? you’re really going to marry me right here?” 

“if you let me.” sukuna responds. 

he pauses, before taking his hands in yours, eyeing and fiddling with the newly replaced ring on your finger before looking back up at you, and smiling. 

“i can’t wait any longer. i did all of this, flew our parents out and our siblings, and made sammy buy you this perfect, beautiful dress because i have to marry you right now. and it’s not because i’m paranoid or because i’m scared you’re going to die on me, but because you’re the love of my life. i want our love to be forever. i know you’re going to live to tomorrow and i am too – but it’s still not good enough for me that we’re not tied together in all the ways people can be tied together.” 

you smile. 

“i just want you to be my wife. you’ve been my everything since forever and i need everyone to know that. my tax forms, the government – i need it written in paper, i need there to be real living proof.” 

you laugh. 

“me too.” you murmur. 

“yeah?” 

“yeah. yeah, i need someone to shout it from the rooftops. i want to send it to the fucking newspaper back home just so everyone knows that you married me and i married you. and i really do want to do it right now.” 

and you watch as he grins – at what may be his first confirmation that everything he planned out is going to come to fruition right now, because you’re going to marry him. and he leans forward, pressing a kiss to your cheeks, hands frantic around your neck and pulling you closer as you lean back, glaring at him. 

“save that for the wedding.” 

“i needed one last kiss from you as my girlfriend.” 

“well, i think that was technically my first kiss as your fiancee? your last kiss with me as your girlfriend was the one this morning. it tasted like french toast.” you state.

he shakes his head. 

“okay, go away now. let sammy put your veil on. and walk back down with her and yuuji, okay?” 

you give him a nod, quickly shuffling to the little bush where all four of them are crouched, nervous eyes as you bend down, giving all of them a smile. 

“are we getting married?” your mom asks. 

“we’re getting married.” you confirm. 

the all cheer, yuuji leaning forward to press a kiss to your head, as you feel the warmth bloom under your cheeks, and they all start nervously panting. your mom starts rehearsing the little lines that she has to say, cards pressed in her hands, as sukuna’s mom pulls out the little box that the rings are in. the two of them nurse sukuna’s boutonniere in their hands, messing with the pin at the back and making sure it’s in place. 

“okay, turn around, i’m putting the veil on. mom, go stand out there with sukuna he looks like a fucking idiot standing there alone. yuuji and i will walk her down.” sammy mutters. 

the two of them nod, quickly running out – but not before giving you a warm kiss on the cheek – as you watch both of them give sukuna a long hug, biting so hard on your cheek that you draw blood when sukuna leans forward, wiping a tear away from your mom’s face. 

you hear a little clicking noise, as sammy starts draping the little frilly veil over your shoulders, her eyes in a deep attentiveness as she comes around, fixing the stray hairs on your forehead and the straps of your dress with frantic hands. and you can’t help but lean forward, wet tears in your eyes, as you burrow your chin into the crook of her shoulder, and squeeze hard. 

“you’re going to walk me down the aisle?” you ask. 

you lean back, sammy giving you a sweet smile before reaching up and cupping the side of your face. 

“i helped you take your first steps. s’only fitting, right?” 

“yeah.” you whisper. 

“and we can’t do it without him either, of course. naturally, you’re going to be attached at the hip until the end.” sammy mutters. 

and you turn to your left, where yuuji’s uncharacteristically quiet at your side with wide eyes, hands nervously fidgeting in his pockets at his side as you shoot him a warning glance. 

“you okay?” 

“i was friends with you when you literally had no fucking teeth. and now you’re just getting married. to my brother.” 

you smile. 

“do you have a problem with that?” 

yuuji rolls his eyes. 

“i don’t like to share.” 

and he pauses, before leaning forward, his hands featherlike on your shoulder. 

“i know this is really weird, but i…i feel like i’m giving you away.” yuuji mumbles. 

you laugh. 

“i feel like you’re giving me away too. you…you’ve been the only person around in my life, in the same way, basically forever. you’re really the only person whose approval matters to me.” 

he smiles. 

“we’ve both spent a good amount of our lives just with each other. but i’m glad that you’ve opened up space for a few more. and i have to. and for sukuna of all people, who fucking adores you. i’m half mad i didn’t think of it myself earlier, but you’re perfect for each other.” 

“thank you, yuuji.” 

“and this is the perfect scheme. you’re going to be my sister. we can upgrade the term soulmate to soul sister now.” 

“deal.” you whisper.

you both laugh, as yuuji holds his hand out to you, which you tuck your hand into before pressing a kiss to his cheek. the two of them look to you for confirmation, before you leave your little spot behind the bush, your little heels clicking against the wood of the bridge, as sukuna stands in between your moms, a hand pressed to his chest, and he cries freely.

his mom hands you the rings, two simple golden bands. and your mom seals the words, that tie you together forever.

--

four days later, you finally do make it to musée de l’orangerie. sukuna drags you towards the back – to the painting from the blue and purple background that’s been on your computer for years – as you both tangle your arms together, fingers adored with your newly minted rings. 

it feels dangerously full circle to sukuna. 

that he had visited years prior, alone with headphones shoved into his ears, and stood there alone thinking about you. about how he wanted to live, about how he was going to move past everything that had happened to him – and at the very least, return to japan someday and see you again. 

and he stood there, wondering what you would be like. if you liked the same music, if you watched the same shows. if you still ate cinnamon raisin french toast and wore ribbons in your hair. 

and at that point, he knew he wasn’t going to return to japan for another few years, but when he did – he was at the very least, going to be determined to find the answers, in the most natural way he could. that somehow, the two of you would end up near each other, at the same restaurant or at the same bar, and he’d get to ask. 

“what are you thinking about?”  you whisper. 

sukuna looks down, at your head resting against his shoulder, and leans forward, pressing an absentminded kiss to your forehead. 

“that this time around, you’re standing here with me.” 

that he got to put a ring on your finger. that he knows you don’t listen to the same type of music as him but you do have the same taste in shows – even if you have different favorite seasons. you like french toast when he makes it and think the ribbons fall better when he places them in your hairband for you. 

you love him. and he loves you back.

--

an: a very long love letter to this beloved fic. this has been six months of one of the sweetest things i've ever written. this fic is literally so special to me for so many reasons bc it's pushed me so many ways in figuring out how I like to write and express my feelings -- and i've put so much of myself and my real struggles of good old life into it. needless to say that all of the sweet comments and love that i've received on this have every bit worth it. this goofy little one shot took a life of it's own from all the love you've all given me on it and i'm so glad we ended up here together 💌 (and I promise, i'll actually write dream girl actor sukuna now, I just had to finish this one up properly)

and a beloved kiss to my lovely @babiemay who enabled this original brain rot in the first place. you are a star.

taglist: @porridgesblog @k0z3me @sugu-love @yihona-san06  @bsenpai @sweetenertea @skzismyhome @mykyoon @violetmatcha @rebeccawinters @shotenvinsoot @itzmeme @gojoswifeyyys-world @cutiejg @chilichopsticks @ghostreadersthings @charlie-xo @whoami-72 @heijihattorisgf @megu-meow @complexivelovely @multiplefandomthings @hoebuns @lzaj19 @glossygreene @ramluvr @sureconfused @najaemism @manduse @imhorn1help @gamergirl5125 @r0ckst4rjk @invisible-mori @isaacdaknight @wishmemel @gyros-cum-sock @suftsunshine @i0099 @cowgirlikets @haitanibros0007 @stuffeddeer @yoontaedotin @ec3lipsy @armani78 @awkwardaardvarkforever @kereseth @leave-rae-alone @ruruvia @princess-ackerman @jjkwritingss @lilkiwikiara @opchara @telepathicheartss @starriesworlds @raechu11 @exprimidordefresas @nxxrxm @aalloochaat @strangehuman101 @tzutology

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 00

next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989. 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got seven of them, yes seven.

..

MARCH 21, 2019

I have to be at least somewhat proud of myself for lasting this long. I thought as I sat on the bus, not everyday you are born with magical powers and are destined to save the world from evil. Yes, hearing myself think that sounds crazy. But that's normal in my life.

I had reached my stop after a half an hour of sitting with my earbuds in, listening to nothing at all. I just wanted to seem unapproachable on the sketchy city bus.

My destination was a terribly designed office building, the space was so crammed and ugly it made me want to turn right back around and get on that bus again. But I didn't because I was trying to convince myself that this would be good for me, but I didn't believe my words.

I was about to have a therapy session with some middle-aged white lady who has glasses and tell her all of my life issues, starting every week at 5pm..

It's not like I had anything else going on, I haven't had work for days now. So I thought I'd give it a shot.

The waiting process made me anxious as hell, I finally got the courage to walk up to the front desk and gave the man who sat there my name. And now I have to wait for this lady to get done with some other patient.

I sat on a chair and frowned, like she is really going to be focused on "my" problems and not the 30 other people she sees today.

I swear it was only a second into me zoning out when I heard my name yelled. "Y/n L/n? It's so nice to meet you!" A woman said, when i looked up at her i saw the exact lady i was describing earlier to the closest details.

I let her lead me to a smaller room that looked way better than the lobby. It had two chairs, a water machine, some fidget items and a large window view of the city. Gloria, I learn to be the name of my therapist, asks me to sit with her.

She clears her throat, "I know this is our first session so you may not be the most comfortable sharing details. But I'd like to know a little bit about you if you're okay sharing."

“Well, I’m 29 years old and a home care nurse.” I say slowly. Hearing the words leave my mouth I knew I haven’t amounted to a lot in my years.

"Oh wow, 29? I would've never guessed that Y/n, you don't look a day over 21" Gloria complimented me i give her a tiny smile in return.

I'm not sure why that is, I get that a lot in my working field. Older women saying that they wished they looked as young as me.

"That's a great start for today's session." She smiles, "A little bit me is, you know my name already but I'm 56 years old since Monday. I have 3 children and a cat named Mr. Furball."

I regret what i said earlier because I think I already like Gloria and not just because of Mr. Furball. But the fact that she has a calming sense about her. I find myself listening to what she's saying, and I rarely do that with people nowadays.

"But I would like to hear more about your upbringing, how’d you become the fine young lady you are today?" She says.

Oh, she wants to hear about my childhood. I mean I knew she would ask but so soon, I'm worried about saying anything. So I told her that.

"I'm worried about opening up to someone about my past cause well I've never done it before." I said.

She hands me a cup of water. "That's okay Y/n, we can take it at your pace."

“I grew up in a small house with my mom and dad until I was twelve. When I was scouted by Reginald Hargreeves because of my unique abilities. And I've been there ever since I was 18 when I moved out to live on my own.” I waited for the burst of confusion I was about to get from Gloria. Not everyday one of the Umbrella Academy walks into your office.

“Oh wow…” she says, eyes wide. “You're one of those superheroes? That’s amazing wow.” She nervously chuckles “I’m sorry I’m normally not this shocked about things, and I hear a lot on the daily.”

“It’s okay” I say, staring at my hands.

She clears her throat. “I'm sure being apart of the Umbrella Academy was big but could you tell me about your life before that?”

I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, pictured my childhood in my brain and opened my mouth.

"Well, I'm sure to this day my father still thinks that my mother cheated on him, due to his "daughter's" virgin Mary-like creation since they were just newlyweds. He held it against my mother all of her life." I took a sip of water and continued.

"I'm not sure why he turned to alcohol. But that turned out as you could expect. He turned on everyone around him and acted like a beast. He regularly attacked my mom for anything she did wrong. But what made him more angry was that his freak of a daughter could heal her mother, after every beating."

"My mom told me before I left I had made her so much happier and in her words. She didn't even question these strange occurrences; she knew her baby was special." I smiled a bit.

I could tell that Gloria was painting a picture in her head of what I was describing too.

"And by the age of 8, I was standing up to my father, even if it didn't end so well. I'd get the beating instead but by the next day, my bloody body would be as good as new. On the surface at least, I had lots of internal issues from that time. But none of that stopped my father from trying to get equal with me.." I stopped talking after that.

My eyes could only focus on my right hand as it was picking at my left hand's skin. It was a habit I picked up as soon as I started to use my powers because I knew my skin would be right back to normal in the next few minutes.

"That's awful y/n I'm so sorry." She frowned. "Would you be okay with continuing?"

I blink up at her. “Yes, that would be okay,” I said. “Then there was this one day..”

..

17 YEARS AGO

“In five, four, three, two. This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live for channel 2 News outside of the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages.”

That was the big news update of September 2002, I remember. Well I don’t really have to think about it much because I was there with my mom at the bank. She planned on making some deposit when we were screamed at, not to leave by a man who had his gun pointed at us along with so many other civilians. He taped us up and told us to stand in a corner.

That was the first and only time I feared for my life. Police didn’t want them to start shooting, so they didn’t come into the building. Meaning that we were on our own and could die at anytime

One of the armed men walks into the scene unfolding. Sirens blaring, people getting shoved around and threats being made to the innocent.

“Now you’ve put me in a position where I gotta do something I don't want to do. Hmm?” He said talking to another person on his walkie talkie.

My mom brought me closer to her trying to use her body as a shield if things went south. And to us we thought they were about to be.

But strangely, a girl walked up to the man. She’d looked to be around my age in a school uniform and cartoon mask. Her loose curls bounced in the wind as she skipped up to him.

“Shit!” He screams putting his device down. Not noticing the girl until a few seconds after his outburst. “Hey, get back with the others.” He told her, trying to sound intimidating but she didn’t seem to fear him at all.

“I heard a rumor.” She spoke out.

He bent a little to reach her height and get in her face. “What? What did you say?”

She leaned in and cupped her hand to mimic whispering in his ear but loud enough for all of us to hear. “I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot.”

Without any hesitation he did what she commanded and shot the nearest armed man who happened to be trying to rough up my mom. We screamed as he kept shooting.

“We just heard shots from inside the bank. It’s uncertain if any hostages have been harmed in that.”

“There’s some movement on the roof. Possibly law enforcement.”

A loud crash and a boy landed down from the roof. It was crazy he wasn’t harmed at all from that high distance. He was also wearing the same mask and uniform as the girl but he had blond hair. From where he landed he jumped on one of the robbers and started beating him to a pulp, and then throwing him out a glass window.

“Looks like one of the armed robbers had been thrown from the bank.”

Another boy with brown hair runs in from the opposite doors as the girl and yells. “Guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives.” He then threw one of his knives and it curved in the air hitting a robber no where close to where the knife had originally been heading. It was incredible.

“I've been in many hostage situations like this, and it can escalate very quickly.”

The original man hops on a table pointing his gun out at the two of the before seen children plus another one. “Get back you freaks” he says walking back and forth in fear.

“Hey, be careful up there, buddy.” The knife boy calls out.

“Get back now!” The man screams.

“Yeah, I wouldn't want you to get hurt.” The girls mocking voice says.

Right before my eyes another boy teleports behind the man, sitting criss-cross on the table. “Or what?” He said calmly.

The man turns around and shoots at him but before the bullets could hit he teleports again. This time standing up with his arms crossed, clearly not impressed. But the man tries to shoot again.

“Ooh! That’s one badass stapler!” The boy laughs. The man no longer had a gun anymore but a stapler placed in his hand by the kid instead. The boy shoves the stapler into his face and the big man falls back, head hitting the floor before his body does.

“Although there’s been no activity for a few minutes, we’re gonna stay live on location to make sure we don’t miss a thing. In this hostage situation at the Capital West bank.”

The five already counted for children make way for the last and shortest one to make his move. “Do we really need to do this?” He talks quietly.

The blonde one replies to him. “Come on, Ben. There’s more guys in the vault.” So his name was Ben huh?

Ben sighs, “I didn't sign up for this.” Before walking into the room with more people. Large black tendrils illuminated the room as men screaming could be heard behind the door. And a beast roars but then the sound stops and Ben walks out again, this time covered in blood and guts.

He breathes heavily. “Can we go home now?” I felt bad for him.

The kids untied our hands and told us to run. And once it was clear to go my mom started to run out of the doors thinking I was right behind her.

“Now we see the hostages. They— They’re free. They’re scared clearly but they do seem to be unharmed.”

But I was behind her trying to help this older woman who’d slipped on the floor. As I was helping her, the kids walked out too.

“People are coming out now. It’s not the armed robbers. These are schoolchildren in uniforms with masks on. Jim Hellerman, Channel 2 News.”

But there was one not accounted for robber, the one from earlier who had been shot in the foot. I started to run out and call out to my mom who was outside. When the man got up from the floor, cocked his gun and shot at the kids.

Fortunately, he missed them but the bullet hit me.

Questions being asked to the children stopped when they saw my body flail onto the floor outside of the bank doors. I was shot right in the chest. There was blood everywhere and it started to leak over to where the kids were standing. They turned around to see where it was coming from..

Everyone looked horrified and there was a bunch of screaming. Mainly from my mother who was wailing as she ran over to hold me to her chest screaming for me to wake up. And that will be engraved in my memory forever after this day, I never wanted to hear her like this ever again.

Police started to rush over but in a matter of minutes, a miracle seemed to happen. At least to the city that is. There was a yellowish glow around my chest and the blood seemed to have reversed back into my body. Even the stains on my blue dress were gone. The bullet even spit out of my chest; it was truly witchcraft.

My eyes then shot open as I started to breathe in and out.

I don't exactly remember what I felt during those moments but I'm sure I left those people around me stunned. After all this was their first look at powers.

I couldn't care what the paramedics were talking about above my body. I was focused on the 6 children looking at me bewildered as well as the old-looking man with them and whatever my mom was saying at the time.

I was put on a stretcher and rushed to a hospital for evaluations after the pandemics came but they never found anything. It was like everything was perfectly reattached.

But as I was leaving I could see the news reporters zeroing in on the kids trying to get the details on how these children saved the bank from thievery.

“Our world is changing.” The man spoke to the crowd. “Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary.” He said looking back at the children. But they weren’t paying attention, some were staring at my ambulance and some eyes were on the ground.

“I have adopted seven such children. I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.”

I now realize thinking back, the seventh person he was talking about was me..

..

PRESENT DAY

My mouth felt like it was moving faster than my brain so I took a pause and chugged the rest of my water cup.

Once again Glorias eyes were wide open. As she took some notes down in a notebook I never noticed beyond this point.

"Uh once I got home I remember the house phone noise filled my house with its nonstop ring, the other person on the phone would change my life forever when he came in.”

“And who was that person?" Gloria asked.

"Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and caring father from what the public knew.." I rolled my eyes.

"So I'm guessing it wasn't really like that" she asked carefully.

"He was never a father really, more like a hard state-national basketball coach." She wrote that down.

"I guess it was a hard decision for my parents to make well, my mother. My father was ready to give me up as soon as Reginald stepped foot in my small house."

"And I'm sure they thought there was nothing bad about the offer they were given, he promised I'd be raised in a steady environment with the best schooling and my powers would be used for the greater good. And in exchange, my parents would get a large sum of money for my absence."

"What were you doing during this?" Gloria worried.

"I think I was just sitting right there next to my mom actually. I definitely didn't understand at that point what was happening to me. Still thinking about the events of that day.”

"And then I was being taken out of my only home in the blink of an eye. I resisted the people taking me, starting with screaming and then kicking and then running. Back to my mom's arms, Reginald himself had to pull me away from her. The deal had already been struck and there was no taking me back."

Now looking back at my hands I could only see small teardrops on my palms. Gloria reached for a tissue from the other side of the room. "Thank you," I said as I wiped my eyes.

"I like to think that my mom was upset that day but the memory has already started to fade as I reached adulthood.

You know after that day I was no longer 'Y/n L/n' no, I was known by my new name.. Zero Hargeeves."

..

I decided that was the end of my story, at least for now because I couldn't place the pieces together anymore. I was full-on sobbing at that point.

Gloria decided to bring up something more light to talk about next but I don't remember what it was because I'd zoned out and thought about the cat she'd told me about earlier.

The two hours seemed to fly by because the last thing I heard her say was if I didn't have anything else to talk about then that would be the end of the session. My legs seemed to move on their own as I walked out of that building. I would come back at the same time next week and honestly, I think therapy was for the best. I forgot about how I felt about all these things for the longest time.

I started the journey back to the bus stop, stopping to look in the windows of shops.

Shops like bakeries and bookstores and other things like that. Until I came to a stop in front of a store with a TV sticking out in the window.

My eyes scanned the screen and they went wide. The lady on the news had a somber expression as someone died. I was feeling sad for the person's family, but then I read the red-blaring headline.

The person who died was Reginald Hargeeves...

...

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[ghettogirly]

𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐈𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐄!

𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒𝐓𝐀!

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: 𝐉𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐑!𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐎 𝐀𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

-> synopsis: it’s your first day at the psychiatric institution within Miami, assigned to the most notorious criminal Armando Aretas, you must navigate your professionalism and your evolving crush for the male. How far with the lines blur?

-> format: one-shot

-> theme: twisted love.

-> warning: themes of toxicity, mature language, themes of violence, Armando is a little rough, themes of manipulation.

-> authors note: sorry for being gone so long, i wanted a little break! i know this is not a request but i wanted to write a story with Armando based on the Joker and Harley Quinn. 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝!🌸

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Walking through the rusted, steel gate, the click and clacks of heels were heard echoing off of the concrete floor. Tapping her keycard amongst the galvanised aluminium door, a woman strolled through. Her nervousness filled up the air as the receptionist lazily glanced up at her. “What.”

“Oh! It’s my first day here, i’m supposed to be meeting up with the head of the institution Mr-“

“He’s not here.”

“He told me he would be here though-“

“Well he’s not, so leave.”

“Wait a second-“

A click was heard next to the two women as a buff guy walked through the door, signalling you to follow him, which you do with haste. Quickly collecting your things, you follow him through the door to which he leads you down a hallway, leaving the miserable old woman behind the desk.

“Don’t mind her, she can be a bit grouchy in the morning.” Your superior, Micheal Brown reassured you as he took you towards the staff room.

“It’s fine.. happens to everyone i guess.”

“Did you get here okay?”

“Yeah traffic wasn’t that bad-“

Cutting her off, screams could be heard throughout the institution as you heard metal banging and footsteps retreating. Forcing you to the left, a big group of officers came running down the hall with gas masks and shields as they approach a particular cell where the interference was occurring. A pale caucasian man was being whisked out of the cell, his arm falling limp as his soul seems to have left his body. His lips turned blue, the colour slowly seeping down his body. He was killed.

Another man seemingly walks out of the cell, his hands behind his back as a bunch of guards surround him. To your surprise, Micheal walks towards the guards to figure out the issue. You follow behind.

In the middle of all the bodies, a broad, built man stood coolly between them. His tan skin being lit slightly by the dim ceiling light that hung above him. A slight scar ripped through his eyebrow as he was shirtless. His muscles and toned abs popped out with his tattoos slowly trailing down his arm, forming a sleeve. Slowly putting his head up, he looked straight at you. His eyes low. His lips forming a slight smirk.

You recognise him to be Armando Aretas.

Slightly gasping, you look straight at him. Intimidated by his presence but unable to look away. He lightly chuckled at your reaction to which he got his neck grabbed by one of the guards, unhappy by his recent activities. “Fucking hell Aretas, don’t you ever want to get your shit in order?”

No response.

“Nothing to say? Cap let me sort him out-“

“That’s enough.” Micheal shouts, pushing past the swarm of guards who managed to contain Aretas. “Take him to the solitary unit.”

A myriad of huffs were heard throughout the group who manhandled Aretas, urging him to walk down the corridors.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Was that Armando Aretas?”

“The one and only. You’re his new therapist.”

Your jaw went slack in shock as you try to fathom all the consequences that could arise from this. Good or bad.

“Don’t worry, if you don’t want to do this then i can assign you with someone else-“

“I’ll do it.” Jumping at the offer as it can progress your career further if you manage to change the psychologically scarred man, a sense of fear yet adrenaline bubbling through your veins.

“Great. It’s a plan.” Standing up, you shake his hand at the man who happily smiles towards you. Was he smiling at you because you’re helping him? Or was it for a different reason?

You sat in your car, munching on some pesto pasta while flicking through his files. Usually, you wouldn’t really psych yourself out by reading the clients files before you met them but your curiosity took over. Wanting to see what was beneath the male’s cold, callous exterior. Scanning through the paper, you looked at his psychological records noted down by his previous psychiatrists. ‘Sociopathic tendencies, manipulative, signs of antisocial behaviour…’

“The list could go on..”

Munching on the rest of your pasta, you glance up at your car system where the clock struck 9:45am. You were late.

“Oh god, i need to go!”

Quickly getting out of your car, you fiddle with your car keys as you try to lock the door. Running to the entrance, you quickly pass the receptionist, not even waiting for her smart comment today. Now speed walking down the corridor, you open the barricaded door with a keycard, just before stepping inside someone stops you.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” It was Micheal.

“Yes, i’m sure, thank you.”

A darkness welcomed you in as you entered the secluded room. Looking up at you , Armando gave you a side smile. His features entrancing you as you notice his messy beard and hair, his rough hands and built shape. His reputation of being a cold blooded killer who ran Miami clearly preceded him.

His arms was cuffed to a bar that separated you and him from the table. A guard was in the corner to which you signalled him to leave, giving you a peculiar look, he obeyed.

“Hello Armando, i’m your new psychiatrist.”

“I know. They were nice enough to give me an attractive one this time.”

You coughed as you felt a heat rise to your cheeks. “Moving forward. I’m [enter name]. I think we can be a first name basis here, don’t you?”

“Sure.”

Getting out your folders, you scan through his section and start asking him questions. He answers some and answers none. Throughout the whole session you stay focused on analysing and observing his behaviour, even though you could feel his glare on you.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

Over the next couple of weeks, you become more comfortable within the facility and with Armando. Showing good progress within the facility and your sessions, to the point where even the staff have noticed and complimented you. However, a feeling of pleasure seems to mix within your profession as through every session there seems to be progress with you too.

Your love for him.

You seem not be able to get enough of him, scanning him up and down in his orange jumpsuit as he always leans forward to answer your questions. Leaving the tiniest bit of space between the two, to the extent of which you can feel his breath on your nose. His tattoos trailed down his body, creating its own story the further down you go.

“¿Te gusta lo que ves?”

“What?”

“I’ve noticed the confidence mamas. You’ve been wearing more revealing shirts, been more assertive. No te hagas el tonto.”

“I..”

Leaning forward, Armando slowly reached for your neck, tracing it slightly. “Te he estado sintiendo, sé que tú también me has estado sintiendo a mí".

Feeling the your emotions of love and lust wash over you, the walls protecting yourself and your future come crashing down. Now fully succumbing to him and his actions as you lean into his touch.

“Of course i been feeling you puddin..”

Planting your lips on Armando’s, you embrace him into a passionate kiss to which he accepts, roughly grabbing your neck in an attempt to pull you closer. Moaning into the kiss, it continues for a couple seconds longer before he pulls away.

“¿Puedes conseguirme algunas armas, nena?”

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒:

“¿Te gusta lo que ves?” : You like what you see?

“No te hagas el tonto.” : Don’t play dumb.

“Te he estado sintiendo, sé que tú también me has estado sintiendo a mí". : I been feeling you, i know you have been feeling me too.

“¿Puedes conseguirme algunas armas, nena?” : Can you get me some guns, baby?

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

[🌸] 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓: @shurisgf @milliumizoomi @deadpool15 @armandosbabymama @tyneshaaa @thedarkworldofhananerea @5tarlan7 @wizewhispers @dyttomori @dyttomori02 @amplifiedmoan @believeinthefireflies95 @bootlegroach @sarcasticbitchsblog @yeahnohoneybye @omg-mymelaninisbeautiful

[loveandpeaceanddoughnuts]

Clean Sheets: Maid!Levi x Reader

cw: attempted seduction, shameless smut // wc: 3,579 // [ao3]

You had a giant crush on the guy who cleaned your house. Not in a creepy middle-aged-mom-wants-the-pool-boy way, you told yourself. The cleaning service you hired when you started working longer shifts (after your therapist convinced you that you were not a bad person because you didn’t dust your baseboards, despite what your mother had said) just so happened to come in the form of an incredibly sexy man. 

Sexy and intimidating, even though the two of you were the same height. He never smiled, just showed up on your doorstep in a tight little uniform and got to work. You weren’t sure why a cleaner needed a leather harness, but you weren’t going to complain when you saw the way it stretched around his pecs as he scrubbed. 

He’d barely spoken to you beyond a gruff introduction on the first day, but you learned that his name was Levi Ackerman, and that he would begrudgingly accept a cup of tea if you offered it. Maybe it was the aloofness that drew you to him, or the way he wielded a mop like a weapon, or the dust cloths he tied over his hair and face like a housewife from the fifties. 

Whatever it was, you had it bad for the guy. And today was the day you were going to seduce him. He had just finished the last room in the house, and you were waiting in the kitchen to give him his payment.   

As he walked in, you slowly reached up and began to unbutton your top. Your tits spilled out right on cue. “I’m a little short on cash today, Mr. Ackerman,” you purred. “Is there any way I can pay you with…something else?” You bit your lip and looked up at him through fluttering eyelashes. Sure, you were laying it on a little thick, but better to be clear about it, you thought.  

Levi was staring past you, frowning at a stain on the counter as he tugged down his cloth mask. You gave a breathy little laugh and tried to lean into his view, but he just stepped around you and kept glaring. “I just cleaned that. You’ve only been in here for thirty seconds, how have you already made a mess? What are you, a damn tornado?”

Your jaw dropped as you absorbed his tirade. “A torna- what? What are you talking about?” How has this already gone off-script? “Ackerman, my tits are out!” 

He finally looked back at you. “Why are your tits out?”

“Because I’m trying to seduce you, you idiot!”

“Well that’s not a very good way to go about it, saying things like that,” he said flatly. 

God he was infuriating. You wanted to suck the condescension right out of his cock. 

“Well it would have been, if you weren’t so focused on this,” you whirled around and squinted at the splash of coffee that had so offended him. You licked your thumb and rubbed the stain away. “There. Is that better?”

He clutched at the cloth around his neck in horror. “No it is not!” You’d never seen his eyes so wide, and were momentarily distracted by how pretty they were. The sight brought you back to your objective. Time for a new tactic.

You hoisted yourself up on the counter across from him, swinging your legs nonchalantly as you watched him sponge away the spot with muttered curses. He was so meticulous. Surely that had to translate into the bedroom…you shook your head. Eyes on the prize. The prize that was currently bent over to examine your countertop from eye level. 

Apparently satisfied, Levi straightened up and turned back to you, his steel gray eyes unimpressed. “What exactly are you trying to do here?”

You giggle. “I told you. I’m seducing you.”

He tucked the sponge away neatly and crossed his arms. “No, you’re not.”

“Oh come onnn. Not even a little?”

The ghost of a smirk crossed his face. “Not even a little.”

“Well what do you want me to do, huh?”

Levi rolled his eyes at your pout and smoothly crossed the room, crowding you against the countertop as he stepped between your legs. He looked up at you with all the confidence in the world. “I want you to use your words. None of this hair-twirling, giggling shit. What do you want?”

Your mouth went dry as your pussy flooded. “Uh, I, I want-”

“Uh, I, I want-” He mocked your horny babble in his sandpaper voice, leaning in closer. “Use. Your. Words. I know you have a dirty mouth to match your house.”

The insult somehow made your arousal burn hotter. You swallowed hard and tried to find your voice again. “I want you to fuck me, Ackerman.”

He smiled tightly. “Levi, if we’re fucking.” 

“Are we? Fucking?” It made you dizzy to look down at him, the proximity painful. You wondered dimly if he could feel the heat radiating from between your legs.

The shadows under his eyes were thrown into stark relief as he tilted his head up into the fluorescent light of your kitchen. He smelled like clean linen hung out to dry in a lightning storm. His hands were softer than you imagined when they cupped your face, dragging your lips against his. Levi’s kiss was exploratory, gentle and probing. When you tried to deepen it, your tongue swiping against his bottom lip, he pulled back with a smirk.

“Tch, someone’s eager. You want me that bad?”

You shivered, dragging your nails across his sharp undercut. “Yeah, I do.”

He nodded, pleased, and you glowed at the crumb of praise. What was this guy doing to you? 

“Then I suppose you can call me Levi.” He gripped your thighs and pulled you to the edge of the countertop, hooking your legs around his waist. He lifted you easily and carried you to your own bedroom as if he had done it a hundred times. You took the opportunity to press greedy kisses along his newly accessible neck and sharp jaw, relishing the little hiss of air it drew from him.

He dropped you back onto your bed, one knee already up to follow you there when he froze. He stared down at where your clothed cunt had pressed against his spotless gray shirt. Well. Formerly spotless. His eyes turned steely, and he herded you back on the bed until you hit the headboard, caged in by his strong arms. “Look at that. You’ve already made another mess. Filthy girl.”

He slides the hem of his shirt up teasingly, revealing chiseled abs. You want to lick him like a goddamn lollipop. He seems to read your mind, looking at you with an air of expectation. When you don’t move, he rolls his eyes again. 

“Eh? Do I need to spell it out?” He grabs your chin and turns your face to his waist. “Clean your mess.” You stick out your tongue, and when he doesn’t say anything to correct you, you lean forward and lick a long, hot stripe up his six-pack, shivering at the faint tang of your own arousal. He closes his eyes and sighs, his muscles tensing as you taste him. “Good girl.” 

Eager to make the most of your opportunity, you hook your fingers into the waistband of his pants and tug, a silent question in your eyes. He huffed a laugh and let go of your chin to start unbuckling the frankly egregious amount of fastenings on his belt and harness. He makes quick work of it, and you're treated to the sight of your bizarrely buff house cleaner unwrapping himself like a present on your bed.

There’s a small mountain of strappy leather beside him by the time he’s done, and you’re drowning in anticipation. He catches your wide-eyed stare and looks away, the barest hint of a flush on his cheeks. Levi reached behind him with one hand and tugged his shirt over his head by the collar. “Well? Are you going to join me?”

You scrambled to take off your dress, shivering under the heat of his stare. It was hard to read approval in his sharp face, but he leaned closer, guiding your hands back to his waist. He held his hands over yours as you unbuttoned him and slid his trousers down his narrow hips. 

Your mouth watered at the sight of the bulge that strained against his briefs. You slowly dragged them down his tight, muscled ass. His cock was stunning, lovely in a way you’d never thought a cock could be. It was long and thick, pale with a prominent vein and the slightest left curve. Pearly precum beaded at his flushed pink tip, slapping hard against his abdomen as you set it free.

“You’re so pretty,” you murmured, cock-drunk without your lips ever touching him. 

“That’s not one I’ve heard before.” His voice was still gruff, but when you managed to pull your eyes away from his dick you were stunned to see that the hint of color on his cheeks had darkened to a full-blown blush. It makes you bold again.

“You like that? Being called pretty?”

He glared at you. “Don’t be ridiculous. Pretty. Tch.”  

You grinned back and bent down to press a soft kiss to his tip. It jumped against you, glossing your lips with precum. “I think you do.” 

Levi clenched his jaw as you teased him. “Thought you just wanted to get fucked, woman.”

You ignore the threat and press another gentle kiss to his swollen cockhead. “That’s before I knew you had such a pretty dick.” 

In a flash, Levi had you on your back. He grabbed both your cheeks in one hand, squeezing them into a pout. “Yeah? Well I knew from the start you’d be a brat.” His hard body pins you to the bed, and you feel him throb against your stomach. 

“You like it,” you mumble through squished lips. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” You stick your tongue out, and Levi almost chokes.

“You are such a-” he lets go of you, dragging a hand down his face. “Are you always this annoying?” 

You smile up at him as he frowns, curling your fingers around his cock. “Probably.” You stroke him lazily, and he shudders at your touch. His strong arms tremble as they cage you in. 

“Maybe I need to fuck that attitude out of you, hm?” There’s a tremor in his gravelly voice now.

“You can certainly try,” you purr. You have him right where you want him- flushed and needy and just a little frustrated. 

He growls at your challenge, yanking your soaked panties down to your knees. He grabs your wrists in one hand and pulls them over your head, pinning you to the mattress. The position makes you arch your back, and he smirks as he nudges your legs wider with his knee. His cock is achingly hard now, weeping precum as he teases it between your folds. His eyes are dark as he coats himself with your arousal, his tip nudging your clit in a mean little tease every few strokes. 

“So wet for me already, eh? Making a mess of your clean sheets.” He clicks his tongue. “Better make this worth the extra work, beautiful.” 

You resist the sudden urge to giggle. It’s all going so perfectly, and he’s hotter than you’d dreamed. He’s just as eager as you are underneath the cocky nonchalance, but the persona is part of the reason you’ve been lusting after him anyway, so you let him keep it. He’s right about the mess, after all. You’re lying in a rapidly growing pool of your own slick, your cunt clenching around nothing as he teases you. As fun as the game is, you want his chiseled cock to split you in half already.

“Please Levi…” you whimper.

“Yes? Is there something you want?” 

Your face flushes at the prompting. “You know what I want.”

“Your words, remember, sweetheart? If you want something from me, you need to tell me what it is. You need to beg me for it.” He leans closer to you as he speaks, his lips brushing your ear on the last words.

“Fuck you.” 

Levi looks down, back up at you, and back down again, dramatically arching an eyebrow. “Is that what’s happening here?” 

The sarcasm makes you want to rip out your hair. Or better yet, his. You suck in a breath and open your mouth just as he reaches down and pinches your clit, soothing it with little circles immediately after. Your retort turns into a moan. “Leviiiiii…”

“Hmm?” He cocks his head, still rubbing your clit. 

You try again. “Levi, I- ohhhhhh fuck!” This time he shoves two fingers into your eager cunt, smirking at the greedy squelch it makes. He curls them against your plush walls, reading every gasp and jerk of your hips like a map to your most sensitive spots. 

“I can’t quite understand you,” he says smoothly. Your eyes rolled back as he added another finger, pumping all three into you in a steady rhythm. “Though I think prefer you like this. So much more polite.” You squirm desperately against him, his relentless fingers stretching you deliciously. 

“Levi, please!” You choke out, twisting your wrists helplessly in his grasp. “Please, can’t take it, need you inside me, please,” your face crumples as he angles his hand even deeper, hitting a spot inside you that makes you see stars.

“Since you asked so nicely.” He slides out of you, holding his hand up to examine the translucent stretch of your slick as he spreads his fingers. “I’ll clean up after you free of charge, just this once,” he teases, sucking them into his mouth with a hum of pleasure. He closes his eyes as he licks you off his hand, and you watch in helpless awe. He’s thorough, of course.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs, wiping his spit-soaked fingers on your cheek. Levi lines himself up with your entrance, letting your wrists go at last so he can grip your hips with both hands. You squirm, trying desperately to relieve the aching emptiness he’s left you with. He gives you a real smile for the first time as he watches you wriggle underneath him.

“I love how eager you are for me.” He laughs, shaking his spiky bangs out of his eyes. “You make me feel so-” he hissed as you managed to sink down onto his tip, the heat of you overwhelming. “Mmm. I can’t keep you waiting any longer, can I?”

“No, you can’t,” you gasp, reaching up to pull him down to you by the back of his neck. “You’re driving me insane, Levi, please.” His eyes almost sparkle as he rocks his hips forward, at last, sheathing himself inside of you with a ragged groan. 

He feels perfect, dragging easily against your soft walls as you stretch to take all of him. His vein throbs against you and it sends sparks down your legs. He pulls almost all the way out before slamming into you again, moaning when you shove his lips against yours in a sloppy kiss. This time he parts his lips eagerly when you lick at them, and you taste yourself on his tongue as you devour him.

“Levi, oh fuck, Levi…” He swallows your moans and sets a punishing rhythm, his heavy balls slapping against your ass as he spreads you open. 

“Taking me so fuckin’ well, that’s it, good girl,” he moans praises against your neck, hands sliding under your back to support you as you arch into his strokes. “Is that what you wanted? You needed me to use this sloppy pussy?” The dirty talk rolls off his tongue so easily, even as he gently holds you up and kisses your sweaty forehead. “I can tell how badly you wanted this, so goddamn soaked for me, so filthy.” 

You nodded helplessly, fucked dumb, mouth falling open as he slammed you into the mattress. The sound of your own panting breath sounded very far away, your ears ringing with the force of his thrusts. “Filthy…” you repeat mindlessly, twisting your fingers into his hair, trying to anchor yourself.

He groaned as you pulled his hair, tossing his head back into your grip. “That’s it, hold onto me, I’ve got you.” He lifted you higher, his hands spread across your ass and the small of your back to hold you up against him. You felt him even deeper from this angle, legs shaking as they dangled helplessly around his back. Only your upper body stayed on the bed, the rest of you made into a willing cocksleeve as Levi slammed you up and down against himself. 

“Such a little brat, trying to seduce me, eye-fucking me while I work,” he growled, grinding you down against his abs as he makes you take him to the hilt. The friction against your clit is maddening, almost unbearable combined with how hard he’s slamming into you. He doesn’t miss the way you clench around his cock, and shifts his grip on you to one arm so he can torture your puffy clit with his free hand. He rolls it faster and faster between his fingers, teeth flashing in another smile as you muffle a scream behind your hand. 

“Good girl. You gonna cum on this cock, eh? Don’t hide those pretty little sounds from me. Wanna hear how good I’m fucking you.” He works you up to the edge of orgasm and keeps you there with steady pressure on your clit, taking his time. You scrunch your eyes shut, mouth stretched open in a silent scream as his cock knocks against your cervix.

He’s breathing harder, his voice rough and desperate. “Tell me who owns this messy cunt. Tell me who’s giving you the best damn fuck you’ve ever had,” he grits out.

“Levi!” You cry. “It’s you, it’s you Levi…”

“Yeah?” He’s getting meaner, your legs locking around his waist, knowing you can’t take much more. 

“Yes, you, Levi- you own this messy cunt,” you moan, the words burning on your lips. No one’s ever made you feel so helpless, so overcome with pleasure. 

He bends down, folding you in half as he presses his lips to your neck. He whispers praises, punctuating them with open-mouthed kisses down the column of your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin hard enough to leave deep purple bruises. “So fucking good for me. You wanna cum on my cock, beautiful?”

“Yes, yes, please, wanna cum,” you babble, lightheaded and electrified.

“God you’re so gorgeous when you beg,” he sighs, granting your wish with a final pinch to your clit as he kisses your breath away. He pulls away with a gasp as your orgasm makes you clench and tremble around his cock, the sensation driving him to his own peak.

His fucked-out face rearranges itself into the dry smirk that you know so well as he looks down at you. “Gonna let me cum inside, brat? You wouldn’t want to make another mess…” 

You nod frantically, the primal part of you wanting nothing more than to take every drop of him. “Yes, cum in me Levi,” you whimper.

“Ah fuck. You’re killing me,” he groans, but his face softens again when you agree. With a grunt, he leans back and tightens his grip on your thighs, holding you down and spread open. From this position you can see every rippling muscle, every bead of sweat that slides down his taut body. He’s sexy, powerful, confident, but you stand by your earlier statement. Most of all, he looks so pretty as he wrecks you.

His gaze burns down at where you’re joined together, the creamy ring of your slick cum at the base of him, smearing down his thighs. His thrusts get sloppier, shuddering against you as he chases his high. You reach down and cup your hand around his balls, fondling and tugging them gently. Levi’s mouth falls open, his eyes going wide at the unexpected feeling. The look of shock on his face is intoxicating.

It drags him up and over the edge, and he bottoms out in you with a strangled cry, collapsing onto your chest as he shoots rope after rope of creamy cum. The thick warmth of him fills you as you stroke his back and brush the hair from his face, soothing him through is high.

He peels away from you with a shudder, gasping for breath, pupils blown wide in the gray sky of his eyes. He takes a moment just to breathe, coming back to himself before sliding out of you with a wet gush of your mixed cum. He wraps his arms around you and gathers you against his chest, pressing soft kisses to your salty skin.

“You okay?” He murmurs. “You were amazing.” 

You’re spent, your cunt still twitching from his exertions, and it takes all your energy to sleepily whisper back, “More than okay. That was wonderful.” You close your eyes and curl into him. “Sorry that we made a mess…”

He chuckles, his breath ruffling your hair. “I’ll wash these sheets if you don’t mind me staying a little longer.” He drapes his arm around your waist, tracing shapes on your hip, and the gentle caress lulls you even more. 

“Mmm, stay as long as you like.”

P.S. I BEG OF YOU no spoilers I’m watching AOT for the first time and just started S4!