#and just telling him to call if he gets stuck

[beloveds-embrace]

(non-sexual smell kink with simon riley 🙂‍↕️)

Simon wasn’t used to softness.

His life had been a long stretch of damp alleyways, stale cigarettes, and the kind of bars where the floor stuck to your boots if you stood still too long. Even the so-called clean places had a lingering scent of old beer and sweat, clinging to the air like a bad memory. He’d spent years thinking that was just how life smelled- musty, metallic, a little rotten around the edges.

Then you came along.

Simon never thought of himself as a man who cared much for scents, but you ruined him without even trying. It started with something small- your presence shifting the air in a room before he even saw you. A whisper of something clean and soft, clinging to your skin like an invisible halo.

You used body powder, he’d eventually learn, the kind that puffed into the air like smoke when you dusted it over your skin, leaving a faint, lingering trail wherever you went. He’d caught the scent of it the first time he stepped into your space, expecting the usual mix of cheap air fresheners or laundry detergent. Instead, he was hit with something warm, almost nostalgic, like fresh linens and a touch of vanilla.

It drove him mad in the best way.

Simon found himself leaning in when you passed by, subtle at first- just a slight tilt of his head when you moved close enough for your scent to brush against him. Then, less subtle- pulling you against his chest after long missions, face buried in your neck, inhaling deep enough to burn the memory of you into his lungs.

“You smell so good.” He muttered once, almost embarrassed by the admission.

You’d laughed, fingers brushing against the back of his head, free of the mask. “Yeah? What do I smell like?”

He hesitated, unsure how to explain it. Saying soft didn’t make sense. Neither did safe, even though that’s what it felt like. So he settled for: “Just… really good.”

You didn’t tease him for it. Just smiled, pressed a kiss to his jaw, and let him breathe you in.

And the first time Johnny met you, he almost had the same reaction.

Simon had warned him ahead of time- half because he wanted Johnny to behave and half because he wasn’t sure how his best mate would react to seeing Simon with someone so different from everything he’d ever known.

“Don’t be an idiot.” Simon had said.

Johnny had grinned at him. “Wouldd nae dream of it.”

You’d met at a quiet pub, one of the few places Simon could tolerate. Johnny had been his usual self, easygoing and full of charm especially for Simon’s missus, but the moment you’d leaned in to shake his hand, his expression shifted.

“Steamin’ Jesus…” Johnny blurted out, blinking at you.

Your brow furrowed in confusion, and your eyes shifted in hesitance towards Simon. “Uh. Nice to meet you too?”

Simon sighed, already knowing where this was going.

Johnny sniffed the air- actually sniffed- then gave Simon a look of utter betrayal. “You never told me she smelled this good.”

You let out a startled laugh. “What?”

Simon groaned, rubbing a hand over his face. “Don’t encourage him, lovie.”

Johnny, the bastard, ignored him completely. “I mean it, love, you smell incredible. It’s like-” He inhaled deeply again, thoughtful. “Powdered sugar. Or fresh sheets. Or- hell, I dunno. Just really, really nice.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Well, I do use a lot of body powder.”

“Where do you get it?” Johnny asked immediately.

Simon shot him a glare. “…Why?”

Johnny grinned, waggling his brows. “So I can get some for myself, obviously.”

Simon muttered something under his breath that made Johnny laugh, but he ignored them both, turning to you instead. “Sorry, love. Just didn’t expect my best mate to be walking around smelling like a bloody bakery all the time.”

You smiled at Simon, amused. “You didn’t tell him?”

Simon crossed his arms, feeling warm in a way that had nothing to do with the pub’s heating. You looked lovely. Content. Happy, leaning into him without fear. “Didn’t think it was relevant.”

Johnny scoffed. “Not relevant? if I had a lass smellin’ this nice, I’d be bragging all day.”

Simon just shook his head, reaching for his drink. But later that night, when it was just the two of you, he tucked you against him and pressed his face into your neck, breathing deep.

You smelled like home. Like warmth. Like the one thing in his life that had never felt dirty, no matter how much blood and grime he carried with him.

And he would never, ever get enough of it.

[simplyholl]

Desperate Measures

Summary: When you encounter a mysterious substance during a mission, it forces you and your mission partner to get closer.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger F. Reader

Warnings: Quinjet crash. Sex pollen. Smut. Slight choking. Brief fucking with a gun. 18+ Only. Minors DNI.

See my Masterlist Here

You curse Nick Fury for what feels like the millionth time in the past three years. He had a "brilliant" idea, mission partners. When there was a world threat all of the Avengers would assemble. But when it came to smaller stuff like mobs, small Hydra threats, or robberies, he wanted just a few of you to take care of it.

Fury paired everyone based on their skills, their background, astrology, and other secret factors he wasn't willing to share. The idea came shortly after you joined the team, making an even number of people on the Avengers. You received copies of each other's files. You were supposed to spend most of your time with them at first to learn everything about them.

Fury wanted you to be able to almost read your mission partner's mind, to anticipate every move they made on the field. You should know them better than you know yourself. Which would have been great, except you got paired with Bucky Barnes, the former brainwashed assassin. He hated you, and you weren't even sure why. But the moment you met him, he was cold to you. He wasn't normally the friendliest anyways, but he had it out for you specifically.

He would smile and laugh with Steve and Sam. He was more guarded with the others, but he tolerated them, not you though. He fought with you all the time over nothing usually. So three years ago when Fury assigned you to be his mission partner, Bucky was furious. He complained to Fury, trying to switch. Fury immediately shot him down. He told him if he didn't like it, there was the door. After Steve talked to him, he begrudgingly accepted his fate.

You fought more often than not, an occurrence the other Avengers were used to. You’d argue the whole way on a mission. But when you were working together, you both could end your petty squabbles until it was completed. Then you’d be back at it the second it was over.

This time was no different. Bucky was flying the quinjet while you looked over a map of the Hydra facility you were going to. Your mission was simple. Break in, get the files, and get out. The building was located in Italy. You and Bucky both agreed once you got the files, you would part ways and explore the city. You were excited. The food, the culture, the men were all calling you. You packed a new dress just for the occasion.

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the quinjet made a noise that made a shiver run up your spine. The lights on the dash started blinking rapidly. Beeping filled the jet as you looked to Bucky. “Not a fucking word.” He barked at you, his metal fingers frantically pressing buttons.

The jet started to spin in the air. Bucky cursed as he tried to steady the wheel. It was no use, you were going down. You sat straight up in your seat holding onto your seatbelt for dear life. Of course, you would die with the person you hate most in the world. Karma was a bitch and you weren’t sure what you did to deserve this fate. The jet whipped around in the sky before plummeting to the ground.

After the initial shock wore off, you opened your eyes hesitantly. You must be dead. You hit way too hard and fell fast. The first thing you see is Bucky who quickly unbuckles himself and stands. Oh great, this must be hell. You’re gonna be stuck with him for all eternity. “Not that I’d have a problem with it, but if you don’t want to be here when the jet explodes, you better get out now.” Bucky tells you as he uses his metal hand to pry open a caved in wall and crawl out. You follow him with no hesitation.

Bucky walks a good distance away from the wreckage with you in tow. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and calls Nick Fury letting him know what happened. After a few minutes, he hangs up. “What did he say?” You ask hoping someone was on their way to get you. “Our coordinates show that we aren’t far from the Hydra facility. Fury said do the mission and he will have somewhere for us to spend the night when we are done. Someone will come get us tomorrow.”

“All our stuff is on the jet, are we not gonna get to go out like we planned?” You whined. You knew you were being selfish, but you had been dreaming of going out after the mission ever since you found out about it a month ago. Bucky shoots you a glare. “No, Princess. We aren’t going out after this.”

He rolls his eyes at you. You put your hands on your hips, pissed off at the nickname he calls you. “Princess” wouldn’t be a horrible nickname. But the way he used it made you furious. He said you were spoiled and bratty. So he had given you the nickname three years ago after you became mission partners.

He uses his phone to find the location of the Hydra facility. You followed him the whole time, flipping him off or making faces behind his back as he berated you for still wanting to go out. When you make it to your destination, Bucky turns around and gives you that signature glare. “If you don’t stop flipping me off and sticking your tongue out at me, I will break your fingers and rip out your tongue.”

Your heart dropped as you realized he knew what you had been up to the whole time. Before you could defend yourself, he grabbed your wrist, dragging you inside the building. He led the way through the dark. It was silent and it seemed like you were alone. You finally found the main computer. He stood guard as you pulled up the files and downloaded them to the device Fury gave you. When you were done, you shut down the computer and handed Bucky the device. He pocketed it and started walking toward the exit.

A loud siren started going off, blue lights flashed through the building. A chemical scent filled your nostrils. You look up to see red smoke descending from the ceiling. It was everywhere. You start to panic. It was probably some poison designed to kill whoever broke in here. Bucky was half way to the door when you finally realized you should move. You ran to him as he pulled on the door. “It’s locked.” He told you. Your heart beat faster as the red smoke slowly got closer to you.

Bucky started kicking the door until the wood splintered under his leather boots. You follow him to the front of the building, the red smoke almost face level with you now. He runs at the front door using his strength to break it down, but not before the smoke surrounded both of you. You both cough as it fills your lungs. He wraps his flesh hand around your arm, dragging you behind him.

You walk a good mile before you decide to speak up. “Was that poison?” You ask him, scared for what was to come. “How the hell should I know?” His hateful reply pissed you off. “I’m so angry that I’m gonna die with you of all people!”

“I’m not. I can’t wait to watch you take your last breath. I’ll fight to stay alive until you do. Then I can die peacefully.” You open your mouth to reply when his phone starts ringing. He answers it, telling who you presumed was Fury about the mission. He asked about the red smoke but it didn’t sound like Fury had the answers. When he hung up, he turned to you. “He sent me the location of the safe house. We are going to go there while Bruce and Tony try to figure out what the smoke was.”

When you arrive at the safe house, you’re actually impressed. Usually it would be some shack in the woods. But this was a nice house. It was clean, it smelled nice. Most importantly, the kitchen was full of ramen, canned food and water. You made dinner for the two of you, bringing him a bowl of ramen as he accepted a video call from Tony.

Tony was smiling so wide, his face looked like it might split in half. “I got good news and bad news, kiddos.” He waits a second before speaking again. “The good news is, you’re not going to die.” You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding at that revelation. “The bad news is it was a sex drug.” Bucky and you look at each other, confusion on both of your faces. Tony bursts into laughter.

“I’m gonna assume, you don’t know what I mean?” You both shake your heads as Tony continues. “Well, the sex drug enhances all your senses. You’re going to be horny if a breeze blows by. And it will be unbearable. You’ll feel like you’re going to die if you don’t have sex. And you will. The drug is designed to make your body so hot that a high fever will set in. It will boil your brain if you don’t have sex. Don’t bother touching yourselves, that won’t work. You have to sleep with someone to make the side effects go away.” Tony cackles as he looks at the shocked looks on your faces.

He looks at his watch. “You should have about an hour before it sets in. And probably four after that before it kills you. So good luck.” He laughs before hanging up. The silence between you and Bucky is filled with tension. Both of you unsure of what this situation will bring.

You finish your dinner without saying a word to each other. But you can’t take it anymore. “Do you think he’s right?” Bucky considers your question for a moment, his blue eyes focusing on you. “Yeah, he wouldn’t lie to us.” You take a deep breath. “We have about thirty minutes before we start to feel it. What are we gonna do?”

“Im going to take a shower and go to bed.” You look at him incredulously. “Bucky, he said we will die if we don’t have sex. There’s gotta be a bar around here or something. We can go out and find someone to sleep with.” You offer a reasonable solution. Bucky chuckles, “We are in the middle of nowhere. There’s no one around for miles. And I’m sure as hell not fucking you.” He spits the words at you like venom.

“I don’t want you anywhere near me. But we don’t have a choice.” You fire back, but Bucky ignores you, walking to the bathroom and slamming the door behind him. You go into the bedroom with the en-suite bathroom and take a shower too. You can feel your body start to heat up. You turn the water as cool as it can get. When you dry off, your skin is sensitive. You can feel yourself getting wet just from the towel touching you.

You look through the drawers, knowing that there was usually clothes in there just in case. You were so hot you were starting to feel like not putting any clothes on at all. But you settled on a thin, white tank top and a pair of red panties. Your hard nipples rubbed against the fabric of the tank top making you moan. You lay on the bed and check your phone. The symptoms were just now setting in, and you were already miserable.

You closed your eyes, trying to sleep. Maybe Bucky was onto something. If you could sleep through your death, it might not be so bad. But sleep never came. You tossed and turned, you touched yourself. But nothing would suppress the horrible ache between your thighs. Your panties were practically stuck to you, they were so soaked. You checked the time again, realizing you only had an hour and a half before your imminent demise.

You stand up on shaky legs and walk to the bedroom Bucky was in. Desperate times called for desperate measures. You knock on the door gently at first, but after a few minutes pass with no answer, you try the door handle. It’s locked. You beat your fists against the door. “Bucky let me in. I’ll do all the work. You can close your eyes, pretend I’m someone else. We can put bags on our heads. But I need you to fuck me right now.”

He opens the door, his long hair in a messy bun, his blue eyes dark with lust. He’s naked, his hard cock on full display. “Bucky, please. I know we hate each other, but we have to. I can’t take this.” He doesn’t say anything as he grabs you with his metal hand slinging you onto the bed. You gasp as your back hits the mattress. Bucky towers over you looking at your body hungrily. His gaze lingers on your breasts. Your nipples are so hard, you’re surprised they haven’t cut through your tank top.

“If we are doing this, we do it my way.” He grumbles. You just lay there, willing to do whatever he wants. He walks over to the nightstand, grabbing his pistol and walking back to you. “What are you doing with that?” You ask wide eyed. “Shut the fuck up.” He growls. You swallow hard as he brings the gun down over your torso.

He grips your tank top between his large hands and pulls. The rip of the fabric echoes through the silence. He moves above you, bringing his head to your breasts. He captures a nipple between his lips, pulling it with his teeth. You cry out as he soothes the pain with his tongue, lapping at it gently.

He jerks your panties down your legs, discarding them behind him. “God, Princess, you’re soaked.” He runs the muzzle of the pistol through your folds. The cold metal making you shiver. He positions it slightly, sliding the barrel into you with ease. “Bucky! What’s with the gun?” He smirks as he works the weapon in and out of you. “I don’t want to touch you yet.” He shrugs, maneuvering the barrel causing it to hit your g-spot. Your toes curl and you arch up off the bed.

Bucky grabs you back down, his vibranium arm laying across your stomach to hold you in place. He removes the pistol, looking at it in awe. It’s covered with you. His tongue darts out to lick your arousal off it. He moans as he sucks all of you off his weapon. “You taste so good, Princess.”

You gasp as he jerks your legs apart, fingers digging into your flesh. You’re dripping down your thighs, making it harder for him to keep hold of you. He lowers his head, lapping up your arousal from your thighs. When he finally makes it to where you need him most, he wastes no time. His lips and tongue feasting on you like he’s ravenous. His lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly as he pulls a forceful orgasm out of you.

He stands, pulling you to the edge of the bed. Bucky is fully inside you with one forceful thrust. You gasp at the delicious stretch. “Fuck.” He whispers, a few loose strands of hair fall from his bun. You have to fight the urge to grab a piece between your fingers.

Bucky’s movements are erratic. He’s like a wild animal. He lifts your leg, placing it over his shoulder, the new angle causes him to hit even deeper. You’re a mess, crying out his name, watching his face as he sets a brutal pace. The heat in your stomach becoming unbearable. You move your hips with him, matching his rhythm. He brings down his vibranium hand, touching over your chest before bringing it to your neck.

He squeezes lightly at first before adding more pressure. Your eyes roll back in your head. This was all too much. The way his big body pressed you against the mattress. The way he was looking at you. The way his vibranium hand was wrapped around your throat. How he fit so perfectly, it was like you were made to take him. You clench around him, causing his movements to falter. He is getting sloppy.

You wrap the leg not on his shoulder around his waist bringing him impossibly closer. You feel him spilling inside you sending you over the edge with him. He removes his hand from your neck, bringing it to your chin forcing you to look at him. “I hate you.” He whispers as he stills inside you. Bucky removes himself and stands between your legs. He gathers the cum dripping out of you with his middle and index fingers, forcing it back inside you. “I hate you too.” You say as your legs tremble from the intensity of it all.

Tags in the comments ❤️

[joemama-2]

a dead end | chap. 3

༺♰༻ gojo x fem reader

𓉸♱𓉸 synopsis: you were a star under stadium lights, gojo satoru a savior in sterile halls. now, the world rots, and survival is your only stage. amid the relentless dead and the horrors of the living, an unsteady bond forms—but trust is as fragile as life itself. in the shadows of ruin, love and death walk hand in hand. which will claim you first?

༺♰༻ wc: 9.6k

༺♰༻ tags/warnings: death, angst, violence, smut, cannibalism, murder, blood, gore, zombie apocalypse, crazy people, reader is a little bitchy at first, character development, torture, guns, weapons, alcohol, drugs, medical talk here and there, research talk, mentions of a leaked sextape, bullying, betrayal, lying, love, surgeon! satoru, cheerleader! reader, small age gap

༺♰༻ series masterlist < previous chapter < next chapter

The hospital buzzed with its usual rhythm—a steady pulse of urgent footsteps, muffled voices over intercoms, and the hum of medical equipment. Gojo stood in the bustling trauma bay, scrubbing his hands meticulously under the scalding water, mentally preparing for another long shift. Just another day, he thought. Another set of lives to save. While Nanami and Ito haven’t even clocked in yet, he was stuck here. He sighs, trying not to dwell too much on it. He studied for this and dedicated hours, days, months, and years to this profession. Just suck it up, suck it up.

“Dr. Gojo!” A frantic voice broke through the air, slicing into his focus. He turned to see a nurse rushing towards him, eyes wide, panic etched across her face. “We’ve got an emergency intake—severe trauma. Possible bite wounds.”

Bite wounds? Gojo’s brows knitted together as he grabbed a pair of gloves. “Alright, let’s move,” he commanded, slipping into his role seamlessly.

The trauma bay doors swung open, revealing chaos in motion. Paramedics wheeled in a stretcher, the patient thrashing weakly against the restraints. Blood smeared across her limbs, and her skin was a sickly, ashen gray. Her eyes, wild and unfocused, darted around the room. “Late twenties, found unconscious and bleeding in an alley. Found by someone walking by,” one of the paramedics reported, struggling to keep the patient still. “Possible drug overdose, but… she’s been biting and scratching. Unprovoked.”

Gojo moved in quickly, assessing the situation and silently nodding along to the information being told to him. “Let’s get her stabilized,” he ordered, voice steady. “Push 5 milligrams of midazolam, and get a tox screen running. We need to figure out what’s going on.”

The nurses moved in sync, following his commands, but something felt off. The woman’s movements were erratic, too strong, almost inhuman. Her fingers clawed at the air, mouth snapping open and shut as if trying to bite through the very air itself. Gojo leaned in, shining a light into her eyes. Her pupils were blown wide, unfocused. “Can you hear me?” he called out, keeping his voice firm but calm. “Ma’am, can you tell me your name?” The woman doesn’t respond, attempting to bite at his ear before he moves away in time. 

A collective gasp rippled through the room as the patient’s teeth clamped down on nothing but air, her jaw snapping shut with a sickening click. Gojo’s expression remained unreadable, but his grip on the stretcher’s railing tightened. The nurses took a cautious step back, glancing at each other for reassurance, but their unease spread like wildfire. “She almost bit you—” one of them started, but Gojo cut her off with a sharp nod.

“I noticed,” he said dryly, but his mind was already spinning. This wasn’t normal. Overdoses, withdrawals, even extreme psychosis—he’d seen it all before. But this? The sheer aggression, the unnatural strength, the way her body fought against sedation like a cornered animal—it didn’t add up. “Her vitals?” he asked, directing his attention to the monitor as one of the nurses fumbled with the blood pressure cuff.

“Heart rate is… Jesus,” the nurse muttered, eyes widening. “168 beats per minute. It’s skyrocketing.” Gojo frowned. That wasn’t just stress—it was something else. A body under that kind of strain should be shutting down, but she was still moving, still fighting as if sheer will alone kept her conscious. 

The nurse with the syringe hesitated before stepping forward again. “Administering midazolam now.” The second the needle pierced the woman’s skin, a guttural snarl ripped from her throat, raw and animalistic. She lunged upward, nearly toppling the stretcher as her body convulsed.

“Hold her down!” Gojo barked, moving to restrain her arms as another nurse grabbed her legs in order to place straps on her limbs.

But she was strong. Too strong.

A sickening crack echoed as the leather restraints dug into her wrists, her muscles tensing unnaturally. The veins beneath her skin bulged, an eerie blackness creeping up her forearms. “Doctor, I don’t think—”

Then she stopped.

The room fell silent except for the steady beeping of the heart monitor. Her body slackened. Her chest rose and fell in shallow, uneven breaths. The fight was gone as if something inside of her had finally given out. Gojo slowly loosened his grip, exhaling through his nose. “Alright,” he muttered, glancing at the monitors again. “Get a full panel workup on her—blood tox, organ function, everything. And someone check her—”

A sharp gasp cut through the air. It was the nurse standing closest to the patient. Gojo turned just in time to see the woman’s eyes snap open—pupils blown so wide that her irises were nearly swallowed by darkness.

And then she lunged. The poor nurse didn’t have time to react. A wet crunch filled the room as the woman’s teeth sank deep into the nurse’s forearm. Screams erupted. Blood splattered onto the crisp white sheets, pooling onto the floor in sickening ribbons of red. The nurse staggered back, her face twisted in pain and disbelief.

Gojo acted before he could think.

He grabbed the nearest crash cart and shoved it between them, using it as a makeshift barrier. The patient—no, the thing—snapped its teeth wildly, blood dripping from its mouth as it fought against the stretcher’s restraints. The nurse clutched her arm, her breath coming in sharp gasps. “Oh my god—oh my god, she bit me—”

Gojo’s stomach twisted. His mind screamed at him to do something, to take control of the situation, but a terrifying realization settled into his bones. The room had erupted into chaos. The other nurses scrambled back, knocking over trays and equipment in their haste to put distance between themselves and the thrashing patient. Someone was screaming for security. Someone else was already reaching for the emergency call button. Gojo barely registered any of it. His gaze locked onto the nurse clutching her arm, fingers trembling as blood seeped through them. The bite was deep, the wound ragged, and the sheer force behind it—

It wasn’t normal. Nothing about this seemed normal.

“Get pressure on that wound,” he ordered sharply, breaking from his momentary paralysis. “Now.”

The injured nurse—Yuki, his mind supplied—nodded weakly, her breaths shallow, ragged. One of her colleagues rushed forward, pressing a wad of gauze onto her arm, but Yuki didn’t react. Didn’t flinch, didn’t cry out. Just stood there, swaying slightly, blinking as if she were trying to force herself to stay present. Shock. Maybe blood loss. Maybe— 

The patient jerked violently, snapping Gojo’s attention back. The crash cart he’d shoved between them rattled under the force of her struggle. Despite the restraints digging into her wrists, despite the blood smeared across her lips, she kept fighting, kept lunging, animalistic grunts spilling from her throat. The guttural sound sent a chill down his spine. “Doctor, what do we do?” someone asked, voice tight with barely contained fear.

Gojo’s jaw clenched. “We—” His words faltered as he looked at her again. The way her body contorted, the unnatural sharpness of her movements—it wasn’t human. It wasn’t just an overdose, or psychosis, or anything that made sense.

And Yuki—

He turned back toward her, but his frown deepened when he saw what had already begun to happen. She was trembling now, violently, like something inside her was coming undone. Her breathing had grown erratic, a wet, gurgling rasp behind each inhale. Her pupils—God, her pupils. They were dilating, swallowing up every trace of brown, leaving behind only an abyss of black. Gojo had seen overdoses. He’d seen trauma. He’d seen people die on his table. But he had never seen anything like this. The realization settled into his bones, cold and unshakable.

This wasn’t a patient. This was something else entirely.

The nurse who was helping Yuki with pressure on the wound was next to go, and so was the other nurse, then the security, the older woman at the desk who always offered him donuts from her daughter’s shop, and the other patients. Everything was a mess; people were running and screaming everywhere. Satoru was used to chaos and panic, but this—this wasn’t the same. Sharp eyes darted around as he tried to make sense of the bloodbath happening in front of him, fingers twitching by his sides. The sounds seemed to blend into one, his eyes closing momentarily—willing himself to take a deep breath and calm his body. 

“Dr. Gojo!”

A shout for his name has him moving instantly, head whipping over to one of the newer nurses.  She was backed against the supply cabinet, eyes wide with sheer terror, hands shaking as she gripped a pair of trauma shears like they were her last line of defense. “They’re—” Her breath hitched, and she shook her head violently. “They’re attacking everyone!”

No shit.

Gojo didn’t waste time responding. He could see it, hear it, feel the horror crawling under his skin like an infection of its own. The nurse who had tried to help Yuki was on the floor now, her throat torn open, gurgling as her hands weakly clawed at nothing. Another had barely made it two steps before the security guard—no, the thing that had been the security guard—tackled her to the ground, teeth sinking into her shoulder. The older woman at the front desk. The patients waiting for help. The paramedics who had wheeled in that first patient.

One by one, they fell, and one by one, they rose again.

Screams shattered through the air, but Gojo forced himself to push forward. His mind raced, trying to grasp at some kind of explanation, some kind of rationalization, but there was none. His body was running on autopilot, instincts screaming for him to do something—anything—before he was next. He reached out, grabbing the younger nurse’s wrist, his grip firm but not cruel. “We need to move,” he ordered, his voice steady despite the chaos. “Now.” She didn’t argue. She couldn’t. The moment she nodded, he pulled her with him, shoving past overturned chairs and blood-slick floors, trying to navigate the quickest way out. Every second counted. Every turn was a gamble.

And just as they rounded the corner toward the exit—

Another figure lurched toward them, half of its face missing, blood dripping down the remnants of its jaw. “Shit!” he manages to evade the attack, simultaneously pushing the nurse to the side. However, it proved to be useless when one of the paramedics grabbed at her ankle with ungodly strength and took a bite out of the flesh.

Her scream pierced through the chaos, raw and agonized. She thrashed, kicking at the paramedic-turned-monster, but its grip was relentless, teeth tearing into her calf with sickening force. Blood sprayed across the linoleum floor, pooling beneath her as her body twisted in desperation. “Fuck!” Gojo moved before he could think, his hand finding the nearest IV pole. With a forceful swing, he brought it down onto the thing’s skull. Once. Twice. The dull crack of bone giving way under steel echoed through the hall. The creature twitched before finally going still, its jaws slackening, releasing the nurse’s mangled leg. 

She was hyperventilating, trying to scramble backward, her fingers slipping in her own blood. “It hurts—oh god, it—”

“Get up no—”

He doesn’t finish that sentence when her body twitches, jerking in ways that look like they could break bones. Her eyes, wide with terror only a second ago, rolled back into her head. A violent convulsion wracked her body, limbs twitching unnaturally as if something inside her was seizing control. Foam bubbled at the corners of her lips, her chest heaving in frantic, uneven spasms. Gojo had seen people die before. He had seen bodies succumb to the limits of mortality, had fought against it with everything he had. But this was wrong. He didn’t know if he could save these people.  This was all getting out of hand way too fast.  “Sumi.” He crouched beside her, one hand hovering uncertainly over her shoulder. “Stay with me. Breathe.”

But she wasn’t breathing. Not properly. Her gasps came out in short, shallow bursts, her pupils dilating until nothing remained of their original color. Her fingers twitched, curling like claws against the floor. The convulsions stopped. And then…her body went completely still. Gojo swallowed, dread pooling in his stomach like lead. He knew what was coming before it even happened, but a small, desperate part of him still hesitated.

“Sumi?” he tried again, softer this time.

She moved. Not like a person. Not like someone regaining consciousness. Her head jerked to the side with a sickening pop, her gaze snapping up to meet his. A slow, eerie smile stretched across her face, lips splitting over teeth now stained red with her own blood. And then she lunged. Gojo barely had time to react. He threw himself backward, her teeth missing his throat by inches. She scrambled forward on hands and knees, faster than she should have been able to move. A guttural snarl tore from her throat—a sound that no human should be able to make.

He didn’t think. Didn’t hesitate. He grabbed the IV pole again and swung. It connected with a sickening crunch, but she kept coming. Even with her skull caving in, even with blood pouring from her shattered face—she kept coming. "Fuck," he hissed, bracing himself.

This wasn’t an illness or whatever it may have been. This wasn’t a psychotic episode. This was something else entirely. And if he didn’t get the hell out of here—

He was next.

He collides the pole into her head three more times before her body goes slack, a gaping hole that pours blood out onto the floor. Satoru doesn’t look back as he quickly scrambles to his feet and runs to the door leading to the stairwells. Doesn’t stop moving forward even after the snarls and growls of whatever those fucking things are chasing him up, but gets ultimately distracted when other nurses, doctors, patients, and family members open the doors leading to their floor—completely unaware of what kind of hell just took place below them. He’s running and running until there’s nowhere to run to anymore. The top floor of the hospital that’s been under renovation, almost close to finishing. It’s empty for the most part until the construction workers decide to grace the place with their presence. 

He opens the double doors with quickness, rushing inside and closing them right behind him. t’s a temporary refuge. The space is large and open, construction equipment scattered around like remnants of a dream left unfinished. The sterile white walls have been interrupted by half-constructed walls and loose cables, the sharp smell of fresh paint and cement mixing with the foul, metallic stench of blood that clings to him. Looking around, he grabs one of the longer cables and wraps it in and around the handles of the door, essentially ensuring the doors can’t be opened from the outside.  He steps back slowly, his chest heaving. His thoughts are a blur, too fast to catch up with, too fast to make sense of. How the fuck did this happen? He thought he was in control. He thought he understood everything.

But what just happened outside? He has not a damn clue. 

“I—w-what?” you gulp out, eyes wide and staring at the man who holds your fate in the palm of his hand. 

“You heard me,” he dryly scoffs, his smirk unnerving. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

“A-Are you fucking insane?!” your face scrunches when he presses the axe closer, pressing a hand down onto the handle in an attempt to keep it at bay.

“Maybe, but I’m also not taking chances, even if you are pretty.”

Your heart races as his words hit you, and for a moment, you freeze. “Pretty?” You repeat, your mind struggling to focus through the adrenaline rush and fear.

“Don’t get any ideas,” he cuts you off, his voice low and dangerous, though there’s a playful glint in his eyes. “Pretty people don’t get a free pass. You’re either useful... or you're one of them." The tip of the axe shifts, hovering dangerously close to your throat. "So, what’s it gonna be?"

“Listen,” you stammer, trying to think fast, “I—I’m not part of whatever the hell’s going on out there. I’m just trying to survive, okay? I’m not a threat to you.” He doesn’t move, doesn’t say a word, but his gaze never wavers from you. It's like he's waiting for you to say something more.

“And how do I know that? You could be lying to my face for all I know,” he quips back, head tilting in a scrutinizing way. His eyes scan down your body, lingering a bit too much on your legs—though not as much as your chest.

You huff, trying to ignore the way his gaze makes your skin crawl. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the fact that I’m bleeding, exhausted, and just barely survived getting ripped apart out there?” You gesture wildly toward the door. “Does that scream ‘like one of them’ to you?”

Gojo hums, tapping his fingers against the handle of the axe. “Mmm… could just mean you’re a tough little thing.” His smirk deepens, and he finally meets your eyes again. “But I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. Mostly ‘cause you’re pretty.”

But he just said….  Your face twists in disbelief. “That’s it?”

“Hey, don’t look so disappointed.” He finally lowers the axe, resting it against his shoulder. “I could’ve gone with my first instinct and chopped your head off. But lucky you—” his grin turns downright cocky— “I’m a sucker for a good underdog story.”

He steps back, grabs what looks to be a wire or chord of some sort, and loops it through the handles of the doors, tying it roughly. And only then do you allow yourself to look him over as well. He’s wearing green scrubs and a white coat layered overtop. The material is stained with what you can only assume is blood, his hair unkempt and white strands poking up in all different directions as he runs a hand through it. A thin pair of silver-framed, rectangle glasses sit on his chin, the lenses look scuffed up. He must have been through some shit too. Not like you’re going to ask. He watches you carefully, his stance still tense, as if he’s waiting for the slightest reason to raise that axe again. But then, as if some invisible weight lifts off his shoulders, he exhales and takes another step back. The distance he gives isn’t much, but it’s enough for you to stop feeling like you’re seconds away from death. You take a slow breath, your limbs still trembling from everything that just happened.

His sharp blue eyes meet yours again, and the smirk he wore earlier has faded into something unreadable. “So,” he says, voice casual despite the tension still thick in the air. “What’s your deal? You really come all the way up here just to bang on my door and scream for help?”

You frown, straightening your posture even though exhaustion still weighs you down. “I had nowhere else to go. Excuse me for believing there were other survivors. I ran here, I–I thought there’d be help. Doctors…something.” 

He scoffs. “Little late for that.”

“No shit.” 

He turns his back to you, striding over to the window and looking out. “So,” he begins. “This….stuff…it’s happening outside the hospital too, I assume.”

“Yeah,” you nod, letting out a big and tired huff of air. Grunting to yourself as you allow your body an ample amount of time to recover from the shock it just experienced. Sinking down to the floor and sighing in relief—the floor has never felt more comfortable than it does right now. Satoru hums in acknowledgment, but there’s an edge to it, like he already knew the answer before you even said it. He places a hand on the windowsill, fingers drumming idly against the surface as he stares down at the wreckage below. The city that was once bustling with life is now a graveyard, streets littered with abandoned cars, bodies—some moving, some not—and plumes of smoke rising in the distance.

His jaw tightens. “Figures.”  You watch him, taking in the way his shoulders are drawn tight, the way his fingers twitch like he’s fighting the urge to grip something—maybe the axe still resting against his hip. He’s trying to stay collected, but you’ve seen enough people break today to recognize when someone is on the verge of it. Not that you care. You’re barely holding it together yourself. “Did you see anyone else on your way here?” he asks, still looking out the window.

You hesitate, thinking about your friends losing their lives right in front of you and the fact that Sayo is still lying out there in the middle of it all. You press a hand to the side of your head, eyes squeezing shut, stomach churning. “No one made it,” you mutter, voice hoarse. “Not in a way that mattered.”

At that, Gojo finally turns back around, studying you with an unreadable expression. He leans against the wall, arms crossing over his chest. “That so?” 

You nod, but you don’t elaborate. You don’t want to talk about it.

The silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating, broken only by the occasional distant sounds of chaos outside. You furrow your brows, just for a moment, allowing your body to sag against the cold floor. It feels like the only solid thing in your life right now.

“You’re hurt.”

Your eyes snap open. Gojo is looking at your arm now, at the blood staining your sleeve. His brows furrow slightly. You blink down at it, almost having forgotten the wound entirely with everything else going on. “Oh. Yeah.” You move your fingers, testing how bad it really is. A sharp sting shoots up your arm, making you hiss. “It’s fine,” you lie.

Gojo clicks his tongue, pushing off the wall. “Yeah, well, I’d rather not get stuck in here with a liability. Get up.”

You glare at him. “Excuse me?”

“I said get up,” he repeats, walking over to where a few carts with wheels standby. You see him open one of the drawers, a basic first aid kit coming into sight. “You want to live, don’t you?”

You don’t answer right away, but eventually, with a groan, you force yourself to your feet. “It’s just a scratch.”

“Haven’t you seen any zombie movies? It’s a scratch but maybe you already have whatever the hell those things do. You’re lucky you’re not spazzing out on the floor right now, then I’d really have a reason to kill you.”

Your lip curls up, walking over to where he is. Opening the kit, and moving some of the supplies to the side to grab a few anti-bacterial wipes. “For a doctor, you talk about killing someone way too easily. Are you sure you’re certified?”

He lets out an amused huff, shaking his head as he leans against the cart. “Certified? Honey, I’m overqualified.” 

He watches as you take off your jacket with one hand, his lips twitching. You grab one of the wipes he opened, hesitating to apply it to your wound. You catch the barely concealed smirk, shooting him a glare. “Are you just gonna stand there and make jokes, or are you actually going to help?”

He sighs dramatically, pushing off the cart. “Well, since you asked so nicely.”

Before you can protest, he snatches the wipe from you, his fingers brushing against yours for just a second. The way he moves is so effortless, so natural, that you almost don’t register what’s happening until he’s gripping your wrist with a firm but gentle touch. “Relax,” he drawls, dabbing at the wound. The sting burns deep, making you suck in a sharp breath, arm jerking involuntarily. His grip tightens for just a second before loosening again. “You’d think someone who just ran for their life wouldn’t be such a baby over a little antiseptic.”

You grit your teeth, resisting the urge to yank your arm away. “Says the guy who pulled an axe on me two seconds after saving my ass.”

Satoru shrugs. “You looked suspicious. Plus, it was funny.”

“Yeah? Almost getting your throat slit is funny to you?”

His grin widens, but there’s something sharp in the way he looks up at you, something unreadable behind those piercing blue eyes. “I like to keep things interesting.”

You swallow, refusing to let the unease creeping up your spine show. Instead, you roll your eyes, looking away. “Whatever.” The silence resumes between you again, but this time, it’s not as…weird. He works quickly, applying some of the ointment before pressing a bandage over the wound and giving your arm a light pat. “There. Good as new.”

You snatch your wrist back, flexing your fingers. “You could’ve just given me the supplies. I know how to take care of myself.”

Satoru rolls his eyes and steps back. “Yeah? You mean the way you ‘took care of yourself’ by running in here screaming for help?” Your jaw clenches, but before you can snap at him, a noise echoes from outside the door—a low, guttural groan, followed by the unmistakable shuffle of footsteps. Your heart rate spikes. Gojo, however, merely tilts his head, his expression unreadable. Then, with a teasing lilt, he murmurs, “Looks like we’ve got company.”

“We should—”

“Don’t worry, they’re not getting through it.” His footsteps carry him to the double doors, giving the wire another small knot. “This can hold ‘em back.”

“Really?” you can’t help but scoff in disbelief. Eyes wide and hurrying over to his side. “That? That can hold whatever the fuck those things are back? This is a hospital and you guys can’t afford to have regular locks on your doors?”

Gojo hums, seemingly unbothered by your concern as he gives the doors a light push, testing the strength of his handiwork. “Locks slow things down. Not exactly ideal in a place where every second counts.”

You let out a sharp breath, glancing between him and the doors. “Yeah, well, I think we’re a little past ‘every second counts’ now, don’t you?”

He turns to you with a charming smile, shoving his hands into the pockets of his scrubs. “Relax. If they do get through, I’ve got an axe, and you…” His gaze flickers down to your empty hands before lifting back up to your face, his smirk deepening with an amused chuckle. “Well, you’ve got a strong set of lungs.”

Your eyes narrow, lips parting to throw some kind of retort at him, but another groan from the other side of the door makes your blood run cold. It’s closer this time, more urgent. The sound of nails scraping against the wood sends a violent shiver up your spine. He merely tilts his head, listening. “Sounds like they really want in.”

You stare at him incredulously. “And you’re still just standing there?”

“Would you rather I open the door and say hello?”

You groan, pressing a hand to your forehead. “You are insufferable.”

“And yet, you’re still here.”

“I don’t have a choice,” you grumble under your breath. The sound of something heavy slamming against the door makes you both freeze. Your breath catches in your throat as the doors rattle in their hinges, the knot in the wire straining under the pressure. 

Gojo clicks his tongue. “Huh.”

“Huh? What the hell is ‘huh’ supposed to mean?”

He turns to you, and for the first time, the teasing glint in his eyes dims slightly. “It means we should probably get moving.”

Your stomach drops. “I thought you said they weren’t getting through?”

He grins, reaching for his axe. “I also said I like to keep things interesting.”

You let out a string of curses under your breath as you back away from the door. “You are the worst person I could be stuck with right now.”

Gojo slings the axe over his shoulder, flashing you a wink. “You’re welcome, sweetheart.”

“Do not call me that,” you tell him firmly, lip curling in disgust. 

“Fine, whatever your name is.”

“My name is—”

“Look, enough talking and more trying to figure out a way out of here. One that doesn’t involve the stairs, if possible.”

You rub your face, panic setting in once more. “D-Don’t you work here? Shouldn’t you know?”

“I haven’t been up here. It’s been closed off for renovation.” He replies, looking up towards the ceiling and walking around. 

“Renovation… renovation,” you repeat lowly, huffing. “Well, that’s just great. We’re gonna fucking die, and it’s all your fault.” You sink down to your knees, fingers twitching on your thighs. You didn’t think it would be possible to feel closer to death multiple times in one day, but here you are now. Bangs and groans from outside the doors interrupt your goodbye monologue. 

Gojo pauses mid-step, glancing down at you with a raised brow. “My fault?” he repeats, amusement creeping back into his voice. “I don’t remember dragging you into this hospital and locking the doors behind you.”

You glare up at him, hands clenching into fists on your lap. “You could’ve at least had a damn plan!”

He sighs dramatically, rubbing the back of his neck. “I did have a plan. Step one: don’t die. Step two: don’t let some random stranger get me killed. And, so far…” He gestures vaguely toward the barricaded doors. “We’re still on step one.”

You let out a dry, humorless laugh. “Great plan, doctor. Real detailed.”

“Hey, I’m a trauma surgeon, not a survivalist. Cut me some slack.” He turns away, scanning the dimly lit hallway. “But since you’re so eager for a plan, let’s make one.” The doors creak again under another heavy slam. You flinch. Gojo merely rolls his shoulders, unfazed. “Alright,” he muses, tapping the handle of the axe against his palm. “No stairs, which means we need another way down.” His gaze flickers upward again, lingering on the ceiling. “If this place was under renovation, there should be scaffolding somewhere.”

You blink. “You want us to climb out of a hospital window?”

He shrugs. “Got a better idea?”

You press your lips together, stomach twisting. You really don’t.

Gojo grins, taking your silence as agreement. “Thought so. Now, get up. We’ve got some window shopping to do.”

Your lips purse, but the weight of the situation brings you to your feet. You let out another string of curses, glaring up at your unforeseen ally.“If we die, I’m haunting you.”

He nods. “Kinky.” Ignoring the comment, you tie your hair back. If you’re going to have a final day on Earth, firstly, you’re not dying at the hands of other…people. And two, you’re most certainly not dying next to an infuriating man like him. He’s rolling the sleeves of his white coat up, twisting his neck from side to side. “There’s an underground parking garage. Employees only. We can go there but that means going down and facing those things.” You feel your chest tighten at the thought, pressing down on your chest. Another life or death, sticky situation. It’s one thing to be running for your life; it’s another to know that the only escape route is through the very thing you’ve been desperately avoiding. Your heart races, the pulse of panic threatening to override your every thought. The way this guy speaks about it so nonchalantly, like it’s just another inconvenience, makes you sick. Does he even understand the gravity of the situation? Does he realize that going down there means walking straight into the heart of danger? You shake your head slightly, trying to push the rising dread aside. You can’t afford to be scared right now. You can’t.

But it doesn’t help. It’s still there, gnawing at your insides like a constant pressure. You glance over at Gojo, his posture relaxed, almost too confident. He’s already thinking about the next step, mentally preparing for the mess ahead while you’re still stuck back in the reality of what’s happening. The very idea of going through those things makes you want to vomit. You can almost hear their gnashing teeth, the wet, hungry sounds that have been haunting your every step since you stepped foot in this nightmare.

You can’t do this. You can’t—

But the thought dies as soon as it forms, buried beneath the heaviness of your survival instincts. There’s no other way. If you want to live, you’re going to have to face the very thing that terrifies you the most. You clench your fists, trying to keep your breathing steady, the sting of your arm a minor distraction compared to what’s coming. “Then we’re fucked either way,” you mutter, voice harsh, though the words do nothing to quiet the internal noise swirling in your mind. You push yourself to stand taller, to act like you have everything under control—even if you don’t. You won’t show weakness. Not now, not here.

Your eyes shift to Gojo, who’s still fiddling with the equipment, glancing at you as if expecting something. His words earlier, the ones about not getting stuck with a liability, echo in your head. Is that what he thinks of you? That you’re a liability? It stings more than it should, especially given the situation, but you can’t afford to linger on it. "Fine," you force out, standing up straighter, squaring your shoulders. “Let’s go. Just... just don’t slow me down.”

Gojo's expression flickers again, an unreadable glint in his eyes, but he doesn't respond. He doesn't need to. You both know that the clock is ticking, and right now, all you have is each other—whether you like it or not. He finishes tight-knotting the end of another wire to one of the pipes on the wall, connecting it with another chord, and then two more. It creates a familiar representation of what should be a rope. “We’re fifteen floors up.”

“Fifteen?” you repeat back with incredulity, eyes wide. Damn, did you really run up that many flights? Must’ve been the adrenaline because you’re usually tired after just two. You shake your head and walk over to where he’s opening the window and throwing the loose end of the long conjoined wires out. 

“We’ll use this climb down.” He gives the wire a few tugs and after seeing the pipe holds it pretty well, he moves to climb out. 

Your hand shoots out to grip his arm. “Wait! W-What if it’s not long enough?”

“Then we hop into the nearest window and go down from there.”

“Well, what if it snaps and we fall to our death?”

“You said you ran here, right? You should be down at least a pound or two. That’ll help us.” He shrugs. 

This guy! “This isn’t a joke!” you exclaim, he turns to look down at you, eyebrow raised. “I’m not falling to my death and I’m not trusting you either. If we’re doing this, we have to be sure it’ll work.”

Gojo's gaze sharpens, just for a second, before that smirk of his reappears, more teasing than reassuring. "Don't worry, I'm not letting you die on me just yet. That would be too anticlimactic."

You grit your teeth at his response, irritation bubbling up again. It’s the kind of flippant attitude that, in any other situation, might make you walk away from him. But here? With the sound of snarling creatures growing louder outside the door and the weight of the situation pressing down on you, you don't have the luxury of being picky about your companions. You swallow hard, fingers tightening around the sleeve of his jacket, as though holding on to something—anything—that might give you the tiniest shred of control over this madness. "I’m serious," you say, your voice softer now, but no less intense. "One wrong move, and we’re done. I’m not asking for a guarantee, but I need to know you’re not going to fuck this up."

For a moment, Gojo’s eyes change with something you can’t quite interpret. He looks at you like he’s about to crack some sardonic joke, but then the edges of his expression soften—just barely. It’s a fleeting glimpse of something deeper, something more human than the cocky façade he’s been wearing. “I’m not gonna fuck this up,” he says, quieter than before. “But we need to move. I’m not here to lose time arguing.”

Your breath hitches as his words hit, that tension returning, knifing through your chest. You glance out the window, your mind running through the worst-case scenarios: falling to the ground, your body snapping under the impact, the wire giving way to the weight of your desperation. But it’s not like you have a choice. There’s no other way out. You draw in a slow, deliberate breath, your hands shaking slightly as you release his arm and step toward the window. The world outside feels like another universe—chaotic, terrifying, but somehow still just beyond reach. You force yourself to meet Gojo's eyes, ignoring the flash of doubt that tries to creep in.

"After you," you mutter, voice almost drowned out by the cacophony of the chaos below. He flashes you a grin, far too confident for your liking, before stepping onto the ledge and disappearing over it. The faint thrum of your pulse fills your ears, your heart hammering with every passing second. You don’t have the luxury of hesitating. You take a deep breath, forcing yourself to focus. He’s first out the window, using the wire to grip onto. 

The wire stretches out below you, and you can hear Gojo’s voice calling up from beneath, the sound of his boots scraping against the side of the building. “Let’s go,” he shouts. “You’re not dying up there.”

You force yourself to swallow the fear choking your throat. There’s no turning back now. If you want to survive, you’ll have to trust him, even just this once. With one final glance at the locked door behind you—the thing keeping the chaos at bay—you grab hold of the wire. Your fingers slip a little, the metal feeling cold and foreign in your hands. The weight of everything makes it hard to breathe, but you don’t stop. Not now. One step at a time. Very slowly, you climb out the window, gripping your savior for dear life. The soles of your running shoes stamp down onto the side of the hospital building. Your breathing feels shaky and uneven, but you will your body to climb down. 

Every muscle in your body protests as you inch your way down the side of the building, the rough texture of the concrete beneath your feet scraping against your shoes. Your fingers ache, but you cling to the wire, each grip desperate and frantic as you descend into the unknown below. The air feels thicker and colder, the sounds of the hospital—the pounding, the growls, the chaos—fading to nothing but a distant memory.

Your breath comes in sharp, shallow bursts, and your mind races, replaying every terrifying moment up until now. The face of Sayo flashes through your thoughts, the guilt already gnawing at you, even though your survival instinct tells you there's no time to dwell on what happened back there. Every inch lower feels like a countdown to a disaster, your stomach twisting, tight with nerves. "Take it slow," Gojo calls up to you from below, his voice loud enough to cut through the fear ringing in your ears. "You don’t want to make it worse by rushing."

You don't answer, too focused on the descent. Your foot slips for a brief moment, a sharp jolt running through your body, but you catch yourself just in time, heart racing. You curse under your breath, forcing yourself to calm down to breathe, but it’s hard when everything feels like it’s spiraling out of control. As you both climb your descent, you pass by multiple windows of the hospital, barely having time to look in before one of those creatures gets too close to the glass, mangled faces pressed to the glass, and forcing you to hide off to the side. You keep your eyes away from the windows, focusing entirely on the wire beneath your hands. It’s your lifeline now. Your only hope. But the tension in your fingers only grows with each inch you descend, like the wire’s becoming slick with your own fear. Just keep going, you tell yourself. Just keep going.

Gojo’s voice breaks through the pounding in your head again. “You’re doing fine. Just don’t look down.”

It’s a futile piece of advice—too late for that—but you squeeze your eyes shut for a second, trying to block out the height. The wind blows harder as you continue downward, the hospital walls below fading into an indistinct blur. You try not to think about what happens if you fall, if the wire breaks, or if one of those monsters happens to look up at the wrong moment. But the thought of Sayo, Yui, and everyone else; the guilt that gnaws at your insides, pushes those fears aside. You can't let that weigh you down. Not now. Not when there’s still a chance to survive.

"Don't stop. Just keep going," Gojo’s voice calls up again, louder this time, but with a tone that’s almost… comforting. Even if his words are wrapped in layers of sarcasm, there’s something strangely steadying about his presence.

You’re not sure if it's the adrenaline, the tension, or just the fact that you’ve been hanging onto this wire for what feels like forever, but you feel a little more steady with each passing second. Your hands are raw now, the skin on your palms chafed, but you don’t let go. Not for a second. The wind picks up even more, swirling around you, carrying with it the smells of burning rubber and smoke. Your hands are starting to burn. The world outside feels vast, too vast, and your head spins as you force yourself to stay focused on the task at hand. The ground seems so far away. It feels like you’ll never make it. You finally manage to glance down, just for a split second, and the ground below makes your stomach lurch. The parking garage’s concrete floor looks miles away, the edges of your vision blurring with the pressure. Your heart slams in your chest as you look up quickly, trying to keep the vertigo from overwhelming you.

You can hear Gojo below you, his voice sounding closer now, his hands gripping the wire with practiced ease. “Almost there,” he calls, though his tone doesn’t seem too urgent, as if he’s been in worse situations than this.

You shake your head, teeth gritted, trying to shut out the panic creeping into your chest. There’s still a part of you that wonders if this was a mistake—if you’re not going to make it. You can’t help but wonder if Gojo’s not just as clueless as you are. But his presence, his confident tone, keeps you moving. Then, just as you're nearing the final stretch, your foot slips again, sending a jolt of panic through you. You catch yourself, but not without a sharp cry, a gasp of air leaving your chest as your stomach drops. For a moment, you just hang there, suspended in midair, body trembling. "Shit," you mutter under your breath, eyes squeezing shut, breathing out and focusing.

His voice cuts through the panic. “You alright?” There’s a hint of concern now, masked by his usual cool demeanor.

“Yeah,” you call out, “I’m fine.” But even to your own ears, your voice sounds shaky. You push yourself forward again, hands clutching at the wire like a lifeline. You’re close. So close. The ground is finally coming into view—barely more than a few feet away. Your body aches, and your head is spinning, but you can’t stop now. 

The wind picks up again, and your foot slips again. Catching yourself even harder this time, combined with your sweaty but burning palms. You can faintly make out him calling up to you once more, but it’s nothing compared to the feeling of your body jolting as you slide down in a momentary free-fall. “Shit!” 

The wire feels too slippery for you to catch, and you begin to have that epiphany of your life flashing before your eyes for what must be the hundredth time today. Until, a firm catches you by your waist, locked and secured around it. The sound of his hissed grunt hits your eyes, and the two of your bodies swing side to side, back and forth, until he steadies you both against the wall. Breathing heavily, he huffs as he adjusts his hold. Your eyes open after closing them after what you thought would be your death. His chest is pressed against your back. “Hold,” he gruffs out. 

You do so quickly. Your heart beats wildly, out of sync with everything, but the panic begins to fade, slowly—bit by bit. The world around you sharpens again, and you’re aware of how precariously close you were to falling. To dying. The thought makes your stomach flip. “Not today,” you murmur, your voice hoarse, raw from the strain of the climb and the near-death experience you’ve just had.

“Not today,” he repeats, a strange softness in his tone, a touch of something almost reassuring.

Your heart pounds in your chest, the thundering of your pulse loud in your ears, as the adrenaline from the near-fall surges through your body, shaking your hands and making your legs feel like jelly. Every breath feels like it’s ripping through your lungs, but it’s a strange sense of relief that comes with Gojo’s grip around your waist, anchoring you to the side of the building like a lifeline you didn’t know you needed. His chest pressed to your back serves as a grim reminder of how close you were to plummeting, but it also feels like an odd comfort—something solid in a world that's falling apart. Your thoughts are too scattered to make sense of much. The ground still feels so impossibly far away, the wind whipping through your hair, tugging at your clothes as though the earth itself is trying to pull you down. It’s dizzying, suffocating. But you manage to focus on his voice, low and steady, cutting through the panic that threatens to overtake you.

“Breathe, slow down. You’re alright,” he mutters into your ear, his breath warm against the cold air. It’s a strange thing to hear him say. A little gentler, less cocky than the usual bravado, but just as firm. And for a split second, you almost believe him. You almost start to believe that maybe, just maybe, you’ll make it through this.

The steady pressure of his hold keeps you from losing control, even as your body trembles. His grip tightens around you, not with urgency, but with intent—like he’s waiting for the right moment to push you forward. It makes something stir inside you, a complicated knot of anger and gratitude that you can’t quite untangle. You don’t want to rely on him, not like this. You don’t want to admit how much you need him to get through this. Still, you force yourself to steady your breath, eyes flickering open for a moment to glance at the ground below. It’s even closer now—so close you can almost taste the concrete. The garage is just a few more feet down. But the thought of trying to make it the rest of the way on your own, after what just happened, is enough to make your stomach twist. What if I fall again? What if this was a mistake?

But then Gojo’s voice cuts through your spiraling thoughts again, this time with a touch more force. 

“Stop thinking so much,” he says, his grip shifting as he pulls you up slightly, adjusting his hold around your waist. “We’re almost there. Just focus. Just focus on getting your feet on the ground.”

You nod, even though he can’t see it. Your hands are slick, your body worn from the climb, but you manage to find some semblance of focus, forcing your limbs to obey. Just a little longer. The ground is so close now, and though your head spins with vertigo, you push yourself forward, feet sliding along the building, each movement controlled, even though every muscle in your body screams in protest. You can feel the tension in Gojo’s grip as he pulls you closer to the final stretch, his voice barely a whisper against your ear now, “Almost there. Don’t stop now.” The air feels thick, every inch of movement dragging on, but you finally feel it—your feet graze against something solid, the rough concrete finally meeting the soles of your shoes. The relief that washes over you is almost overwhelming. You’ve made it. You’ve actually made it. You stumble, catching yourself with a grunt, and then, finally, you collapse—your legs giving way beneath you as you hit the concrete. You're breathing heavily, but you’re alive. "That was a close one," you mutter, trying to push yourself up. Your limbs feel like lead, each movement sluggish and strained, but the fear, the tension, it slowly starts to lift, replaced with a faint but undeniable relief.

Gojo doesn’t answer immediately. Instead, he looks down at you for a moment—his expression indecipherable, like he’s sizing you up in the aftermath of it all. But there’s something different in his gaze this time. Less amused, less cocky. Maybe even... appreciative? You can’t tell, but it’s there. “Yeah,” he finally replies, his voice steady as ever, but there's a flicker of something beneath it. "But we’re not out yet."

You nod, slowly rising to your feet, the muscles in your legs protesting, but you push through. You look up at him—his white coat now stained with the grime of the descent, his hair even more wild, but still carrying that aura of unshakable confidence. He adjusts his glasses and nods in the direction of the parking garage. “C’mon.”

You don’t hesitate in following him, heads swiveling around in wariness and anticipation—as if something will pop out of the shadows out of nowhere. The tension in the air is suffocating, every step feeling heavier than the last as you follow closely behind Gojo. Your breath is still uneven from the climb, your hands aching from gripping the wire so tightly, but you push the discomfort aside. There’s no time for weakness. Not now. Not when the world around you feels like it’s on the verge of collapse.

Gojo moves with a controlled urgency, his sharp gaze darting from shadow to shadow, scanning every inch of the dimly lit parking garage. The flickering overhead lights cast eerie, shifting shapes along the concrete walls, distorting reality into something far more menacing. Your grip tightens around the weapon in your hand—whatever little defense you have left. Your nerves are on edge, every sound amplified. The distant groan of metal, the faint echo of dripping water, the shuffling noise that could either be the wind or something far worse. You swallow hard, keeping close, your body tense, waiting—expecting—something to lunge at you from the darkness.

It’s quiet, luckily. The dim setting of the parking garage offers a surprising amount of comfort than it usually would. He stops, causing you to do so subsequently. Reaching his hand in his pocket, a momentary look of surprise flashing over his face. He pats his pants down. Your eyes widen. “I don’t think I have my keys.”

“What?!” you cry out, hands shooting out to feel for yourself. Your face falls when you feel something, looking up at him with a tight expression. 

He giggles, pulling his keys out and dangling them in front of you. “Juuust kidding, got you.”

“That’s not funny at all,” you grumble, following him. 

Gojo laughs lightly at your response, the tension of the situation momentarily dissipating as he continues toward the exit. His pace quickens, urgency returning as his eyes shift to scan the corners of the garage, still sharp, focused. The light flickers again, casting long, jagged shadows across the concrete. You try to steady your breath, feeling a mix of irritation and relief. He seems like he’s always like this—trying to break the tension with his stupid jokes. But you can’t afford to let your guard down now, not when every shadow could hide danger. You move in close, staying right behind him, though part of you wants to keep your distance. He holds an arm out and you think it’s to alert you of something in the distance. But there’s a car beeping.

You look over and spot an eccentrically blue BMW. The BMW M4 sits in stark contrast to the grimy parking garage, its electric sapphire paint catching the dim light. Dirt and faint scratches mar its sleek surface, a testament to hurried getaways. The black carbon fiber hood and tinted windows add an air of mystery, while the low growl of the engine as it unlocks is a reminder of its power. It looks almost out of place here—too flashy, too pristine—but right now, it doesn’t matter. “Stranger, meet Baby. Baby, meet stranger.” Satoru grins, puffing his chest out like he’s won a race or something. 

Your lip downturns.

“So,” he looks at you. “What do you—”

“Pussies drive BMWs,” you cut him off, walking forward and over to the passenger side. “Mercedes is better.”

Gojo freezes mid-sentence, lips parting in mock offense before breaking into a loud, incredulous laugh. "Excuse me?" He places a hand over his chest, feigning deep betrayal. "Baby did nothing to deserve that slander."

You don’t spare him a glance, yanking open the passenger door and sliding in. The interior is just as sleek as you’d expect—black leather seats, ambient blue lighting humming softly along the edges, the faint scent of something expensive lingering in the air. Gojo slides into the driver’s seat, shaking his head with a smirk. "You wound me, truly. But you know what? I’ll let it slide since you clearly have bad taste."

You scoff, buckling your seatbelt. "Says the guy who just giggled at his own joke five minutes ago."

He gasps, pressing a dramatic hand to his forehead. "Unbelievable. I offer you my protection, my car—my beautiful Baby—and this is the thanks I get?"

You roll your eyes. "Just drive, Dr…." You tilt your head to look at his nametag. “Gojo.”

At the sound of his title, he hmphs triumphantly and buckles up, you follow suit. “Maybe call me Satoru. You’re not a patient of mine nor do you work with me.”

“And I’m glad I’m not.”

“That’s your cue to say your name now, silly.” Putting the car in drive, he slowly peels out of the parking garage, eyes scanning outside from left to right in a constant motion. 

You hesitate for a moment, debating whether or not to give him your real name. But then again, what does it matter now? “It’s Y/N,” you finally say, watching the streets as the car glides smoothly onto the road.

Gojo hums, testing the name on his tongue like he’s committing it to memory. “Hmm, suits you. I like it.”

You don’t respond, instead turning your focus to the eerily empty streets. The city feels wrong—too quiet, too still. Neon signs flicker in and out of life, casting the sidewalks in a dull, ghostly glow. Storefronts sit abandoned, some doors left wide open like their owners had no time to shut them. You sigh and rub your face. “Where are we going?”

“Dunno, maybe my place.”

“For what?”

“If an apocalypse is starting, I’m not forgetting my moisturizer.” 

You grit your teeth but decide to hold back on an insult. For now. “Fine. Then mine.”

Gojo raises a brow, amused. “Oh? You wanna grab your moisturizer too?”

You shoot him a glare. “No. I need my things. Clothes, supplies—” you pause, glancing out the window at the desolate cityscape. “Weapons.”

He whistles. “Damn, didn’t peg you for the paranoid type. You keep an arsenal under your bed or something?”

You exhale sharply, not in the mood for jokes. “Just drive.”

Gojo shrugs but obeys, making a turn onto the main road. His grip on the wheel tightens ever so slightly, his eyes flicking between the rearview mirror and the darkened streets ahead. “Alright, boss. Just don’t be mad if I judge your taste in home decor.”

You lean back in the seat, watching the quietness of the city fly past you. Luckily you haven’t seen any of those things—zombies?—yet. That’s a good thing, it should be. But you’re starting to find out that the still eeriness of just nothing might be even scarier. The city feels more and more like a ghost town the further you drive. It’s unsettling—how quickly everything unraveled, how an entire population could just vanish, leaving behind only flickering lights and abandoned cars. You tighten your grip on your seatbelt. “How far is your place from here?”

“Fifteen minutes, give or take. Yours?”

“About the same.”

Gojo drums his fingers on the steering wheel. “Good. Then we grab what we need and figure out the next step. And then…” He sends you a sideways glance, an excited lilt to his voice. “We’re stopping by a gas station.”

You furrow your brows. “For what?”

He grins. “Snacks.”

(if i forgot to tag you, pls let me know) taglist: @sukuxna0 @heartsteelkaynconsumer @myahfig4 @kirachuyuu @sypnasis

@ducky1232 @oromanticism @2late4breakfast @beabamboo @dickktektive

@sleepyyammy @tbzzluvr @beabamboo @lovely-maryj @n1vi

@ojdubije @reixtsu @istha5 @ritsatoru @sadmonke

@zoeyflower @topmeyelena @sourairi @jlandersen01

[alaia777]

IM SO SORRY I FORGOT TO SPECIFY IF I WANTED FLUFF OR ANGST😓😓 I want fluff😋

I requested rin (bllk) for "you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?" OR "we should just run away."

i hope you like it! :’)

you’ve been dating rin for almost two years now, but you’ve known him for much longer—ever since kindergarten, when you told him football was stupid, and he immediately shot back that you were stupid. one “fight” later, your teacher forced you to spend recess together for a week, and somehow, you’ve been stuck with each other ever since.

so by now, it’s routine—annoying him, getting on his nerves, and watching him act like your presence is a burden when you both know he wouldn’t have it any other way.

you were the one who made the first move, mostly because you had a slight suspicion he liked you. you’d had feelings for him for a while, and the more you noticed the little things, the more convinced you became.

and when you finally told him, he had the straightest face ever—completely unreadable. except for his red ears. and the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed.

…yeah. you were right.

the only thing he told you after that was a simple “same,” and the rest is history.

it might not look like it to anyone else, but to you, rin is the sweetest guy. sure, he has a hard time verbalizing his feelings, but you know he cares. it’s in the small things—like when he picks up your favorite beverage from the coffee shop, paired with whatever pastry obsession you’re into that week. or when he sets aside time every week to watch rom-coms with you, even if there’s a football match on tv.

and then, there are the little gifts. he never calls them sentimental, but you know better. every time he comes back from a city he was playing in, there’s always something small he picked up for you—sometimes a keychain from a place you both visited together, or a notebook from a city you’d talked about visiting but never had the chance to. each one of them has a connection to a memory between the two of you, something only the two of you would understand, and that’s what makes them so special.

but verbalizing it? he’s just not the best at it. rin’s pretty cutthroat with everyone, and even though he used to be like that with you when you were just friends, now that you’re more than that, he doesn’t want to risk it. he keeps his words to himself, always cautious.

so, when you’re getting ready for your date with him, it catches you off guard when he says:

“that is a dress.”

“yes. it is,” you reply, still not quite understanding his reaction.

“you’re wearing it.”

“yes, i am.”

you’ve worn dresses around him before, so his reaction is a bit confusing. “rin, what’s going on?”

“nothing,” he says quickly, avoiding eye contact, though you can tell he’s trying to say more.

“it fits you,” he adds, almost reluctantly, before quickly looking away, clearly not used to expressing compliments.

when you finally understood what was going on, you couldn’t stop the laugh that slipped out. “you really have no clue how to talk to women, huh?” you said, trying to stifle your giggles, but the more you tried, the more it looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

“that movie we were watching the other day, the girl said women like to be complimented by their boyfriends. i thought..” he trailed off, his gaze darting away. “i thought you might want that too.”

you raised an eyebrow, leaning back with a smirk. “oh, so now you’re using rom-coms for relationship advice, huh?”

he scowled, clearly irritated, but there was no mistaking the faint blush creeping up his neck. “shut up. don’t make this a big deal.”

you laughed again, unable to resist. “too late, rinnie. you’ve already made it a thing.”

rin let out a long sigh, clearly trying to hide his discomfort. “can we just go already?” he grumbled, glancing at you quickly before looking away.

you raised an eyebrow, suppressing a smirk. “what’s the matter, rin? never complimented someone before?”

he scowled, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. “i don’t do that.”

“right, you’re too cool for that.” you teased, arms crossed.

“i’m not, just, it’s stupid, okay?” rin muttered, still avoiding eye contact.

“so what was that about rom-coms then?” you pressed, enjoying his flustered state.

“i don’t need your sarcasm right now,” he shot back, clearly embarrassed but not willing to admit it.

you chuckled, stepping closer to him. “fine, let’s just go, rinnie. but you know, maybe you should try complimenting me more often. you’re not so bad at it.”

rin grumbled under his breath but you could see the faintest twitch at the corner of his lips, just enough to know he wasn’t really as annoyed as he was letting on.

“let’s go,” he repeated, his tone still blunt, but you could tell he was less annoyed than before.

you grinned, following him out, because even if he wouldn’t say it out loud, you knew he cared.

[daenysx]

hullo 8 pm with Remus lupin??

8.00 PM | REMUS LUPIN

Remus has you in his lap, his hands rubbing your back with faint pressure. Your thighs are on either side of him, your face buried to his neck. Nothing helps, though, your mind is so loud.

"I know it's hard, but can you try to relax a little?" he whispers. You take a deep breath. "There you go, dove."

The day was so exhausting, you can't even remember the morning. You're stressed for the things you don't even realize. The conversations were loud, plans made you nervous before you even wrote them on your notebook. Too many things to catch up with. You're stuck with a mind that never stays silent.

"I can't stop worrying," you say, suddenly sad over your own emotions. Why do you have to feel like this? Why do you have to overthink? Why can't you relax?

"I don't know how to fix that, lovely, I'm sorry." Remus tells you honestly. He feels like he's not enough. Your hands are cool and shaky, he holds them and squeezes your fingers until they stop.

"It's okay," you say. "Neither do I."

"I can just- try to help you stop thinking," he offers. "At least when you're home, you don't have to be stressed out. This is supposed to be your comfort zone."

You wrap your arms around him, he kisses your neck and your shoulder. Your shirt reveals your collarbones, Remus brushes his lips there and you put your head on his shoulder to let him reach you better. Your arms feel numb when you let them free his neck.

He cups the back of your head and presses his fingers just right until you tilt your head back in relief. You make a tiny noise, he kisses your jawline. A shaky breath leaves you, Remus massages the tight muscles with strong hands.

"My baby," he whispers. He adores you so much and you love being called 'baby' by him. His baby. All tired and worn out, but you won't give up on your things, right? He knows you won't, it's only normal to get tired.

"I wanna feel okay," you say as he rubs a really tight spot on your shoulder. "I just wanna get things done like I used to, just stop thinking over every move people make. I can't focus, I just wanna focus."

You try to concentrate on his hands, they do feel amazing. The stress has you clawed in itself, you don't even know how much tension your body holds. Remus is patient, he listens. He tells you soft words of praise and affection. Encouragement. Sweetness in his voice like he physically tries to fix your problems.

Your neck feels better when he stops moving his hands. Your head on his shoulder again, his lips on your hair.

"Let's order something for dinner," he offers. You nod, tearing up and being soaked in affection helps. Remus thinks your eyes look more tired, now that you let yourself be comforted.

He just wants to get you food and help you get into bed, play with your hair for hours until he's sure you're resting soundly. He wants to read you a book out loud to distract you, and then choose a word to kiss you every time he repeats it. You'll let him do anything, he knows. He finds himself desperate to be your comfort person.

[writing-mlm]

The Price of Losing

Summary: Being sucked into a video game world because two Doom’s are trying to take over the world is bad enough. But dealing with a try-hard support who hasn’t lost since this started is beyond crazy, thankfully Lin has the perfect way to break that streak. Pairing: Lin Lie x Male!Reader Wc: 5.6k tags/warning: canon-level violence, porn WITH plot, jealous Lin, sex as a bribe, mating press, riding, finger sucking, degrading said as praise, healers being yelled at, I spent way too much time looking at Hydra and Tokyo-2099 maps for this, powers based on Raven (Dc comics) a/n: hiii people in my phone, take this smut as my peace offering

“Thank you,” Storm smiles as you use the darkness to suck the life from the enemy team, using their life force to heal your team. Iron Fist, Venom, Cloak, and Captain America fall to the ground as you let them go, their bodies slump on the ground. Hawkeye and Wanda quickly finish the ones you didn’t kill, leaving the domination point filled with only your team. You watch as their bodies time out, your shoulders dropping as you get a couple of seconds to relax. Floating, you cross your legs and heal yourself. Venom has been diving you for the past twenty minutes and you didn’t want to overwhelm Jeff with healing you. 

You didn’t mind being into an alternate universe, although you’d been mostly retired from the whole hero scene up until that point. It’s been six months of this, some weird video game where you were sometimes picked to play against other heroes from different universes. Or was it timelines? You couldn’t keep up— didn’t, if you were being honest. 

It was nice, although you’d been stuck with your main role being a healer. You certainly weren’t known for your healing back home, but you did heal exceptionally well. You grin as you check your cuff, twenty-zero-thirty-eight with almost thirty thousand healing. With your whole team having a giant zero next to the number of times they’ve died, you guess you were well-suited to being a healer. 

Well, not Jeff. He always died with the enemies he swallowed instead of spitting them out for some reason. 

“My ultimate is ready!” Storm calls, her voice echoing through your earpiece. 

“We only have ten seconds left, you should wait!” You warn, looking around for her, and find her at the entrance of the enemy team, ready to press the button. “We’ll go into our final match before they get here.” 

“But I hate going into overtime!” Hawkeye groans, checking his quiver as more arrows appear from thin air. Rolling your eyes, you watch and listen as Galatca starts her countdown. As she does, you see the other team rushing towards the point. Iron Fist rapidly punches to launch himself forward while Rocket is using his jetpack to try and back it before time runs out. Unfortunately for them, they’re just a second too late as the round ends with you face-to-face with Iron Fist. 

He huffs as time slows down, the air blowing into your face as you wink before being transported to the waiting room of the next map. 

“Who has their ultimates ready?” Bucky’s voice drowns out the sound of him rolling his metal arm. “I’m at sixty-eight,”

“Full,” You reply after checking your meter. 

“Me too,” Storm nods. 

“Ninety,” Wanda sighs. “Hopefully Cloak doesn’t vanish his team again,” You hum, looking around for a water bottle in the throne room. They’re usually hidden around somewhere. 

“Ten,” Hawkeye frowns. Jeff barks something and then spins, water splashing around as he does. 

“It’s full,” You translate for him and he jumps, throwing a healing bubble at you to confirm. Bucky nods as you get a small speed boost, using the time to scratch the bottom of Jeff’s chin. His back paws rapidly hit the floor and you coo before hearing the countdown starting up. 

“I’ll stay in the back line. If all six touch base I’ll pop my ult,” You tell them as everyone stands at the entrance. 

“I’ll keep their tanks off of you,” Wanda promises.

“Me and Storm will push them back, Hawkeye should stay in the rafters and pick off anyone who gets past us.”

“Sounds good to me!” Hawkeye agrees and the doors open. Jeff gives everyone a speedboat and you all push towards the middle room. 

The Hydra map is the Frozen Airfield, so while Hawkeye takes the side entrance to get to the balcony the rest of you take the hallway straight there. By the time you get there, you hear Rocket's feet pattering against the metal and Captain America’s heavy footsteps. He’s such a pain in your ass, but hey, at least he can’t knock you off of the map this time. 

From the corner of your eye, you see Dagger talking before Captain America gives a confirmation nod. 

“Cloak and Dagger are about to ult,” You warn, using the darkness to push Squirrel Girl back. You haven’t spotted Iron Fist yet but you see Venom swing down from the other balcony. 

“Got her,” Storm says and leaves the point to deal with her. Knocking down Rocket and Squirrel Girl with your darkness blast ability, you give Wanda a little extra healing as she deals with the Venom desperately trying to nab you. Finishing the two off, you glance around to see if anyone needs healing. Storm is coming back from an eliminated Cloak and Dagger, getting healed by Jeff who’s happily waddling around. 

“Iron Fist has his fist shoved up my—“ Hawkeye cuts himself off as he jumps from the balcony, rolling to your side as you rapidly heal him. Reloading, you and Hawkeye tag team Iron Fist just as he pops his ultimate, thankfully, though, Storm notices the crowded point and pops hers, too. 

Pulling everyone from the enemy team closer to her, you work on healing the others while the enemies get picked off. The point gets claimed just as Storm goes back to normal. 

“Fist is back at zero, then. But Cloak and Dagger still have theirs ready,” Bucky reminds everyone as you watch Jeff place down scattered bubbles. 

“I think Cap just got his, too,” Hawkeye sighs. “I saw his cuff turn gold.” 

“That’s fine,” You shake your head. “Bucky has his and I still have mine. Wanda should’ve gotten hers by now, too,” She only nods, flexing her red magic as a confirmation. 

“Wanda should use hers if more than three of them come at once. Everyone else needs to cover her so she doesn’t get eliminated before she finishes it.” Bucky instructs. 

“I’ll go to the balcony, that way there’s less time for them to react,” She offers and flies up. Jeff joins her, sitting and waiting to heal her as you hear them running up. Stepping off of the point, you dip over to see who’s heading over before they can see you. 

“Cap, Cloak, Squirrel, and Rocket.” Bucky nods and then gives Wanda the signal. She nods just as they step through the doors. She pops her ultimate while you corral them forward, keeping them from running away with the help of Bucky’s arm. You can hear them firing her but the sound of Jeff’s rapid healing outdoes them before they all fall, waiting for their timer to run out. 

“We should team up more often,” Hawkeye grins as you’re finishing up Wanda’s healing. “This is fun!” 

“You’ve made it halfway!” Galacta announces and you confirm on your cuff. 

“Venom behind you!” Bucky warns and you fly up, dodging his ultimate while Hawkeye rolls to the side. Healing him as you fly down, you see Bucky and Wanda dealing with him. You still haven’t spotted Iron Fist but you know he hasn’t disconnected, so he’s probably lurking around somewhere. 

“Squirrel Stampede!” Isn’t as scary when Bucky shoots the swarm of squirrels until they’re gone. But what comes next only makes you groan. 

“Us against the world!” Moving out of the way as Cloak and Dagger go barrelling across the point, you and Jeff heal the others while also trying to find an untouched spot on the point. By that point five of them are on the point— all six when Venom lands on it. You could use your ultimate, but there’s no guarantee they’ll all die from it. It only lasts five seconds so once it’s up, you rush back to the point just before they take it and use your ultimate with your team rushing in front of you to act as a barrier.

“Heaven and Purgatory swarms you!” You shout before the point is covered in a field of darkness. Six confirmed kills appear on your cuff and the points capture progress goes back to blue. 

“Good timing,” Bucky nods while Hawkeye pats your shoulder. Nodding, you watch as the map shifts, opening the large window to your left. With Jeff’s ultimate ready he could get another team wipe before you’ve fully captured the point. 

Sensing something behind you, you fly up and watch as Iron Fist locks onto you. Cursing, you fly about before being forced to land, sending darkness blasts at him before you can fly again. Jeff is rapidly healing you as half of his punches land. Wanda is slowly ticking away at his health but Venom slams her away. 

“You’re almost there!” Galacta announces. 

“Armed and Dangerous!” Landing again, you see Iron Fist land too before Bucky slams into him. He fires twice before you see his cuff light up. “Again!” Falling into a healing bubble, you help the others heal while you rub your chest. Had this been a real fight you bet he would have broken your rib cage. Bringing the other teams health down, you watch as Bucky keeps reloading his ultimate. 

“I’m glad he’s on our side,” Hawkeye whispers and you nod, watching as he eliminates Squirrel Girl before returning to the point. 

“We’re going to push for the last ten percent. Hawkeye, Storm, and Jeff cover point,” Nodding, the four of you rush to the enemy spawn point and wait for them to respawn. 

They stare at your team, talking through the red walls and you watch as they split into groups. 

“(Y/n), you take Iron Fist and Rocket. Wanda, you have Venom and Squirrel. Leave Cloak and Cap to me,” Sharing a look with Wanda, the two of you split up and you extend your darkness towards Rocket and Iron Fist. You’ll deal with Rocket first, his healing can get pesky when he’s only healing two people. Pushing him into the air, you fly up and push him to the edge of the map. He nearly falls but uses his jetpack at the last second. He’s almost eliminated, though, so one darkness stream and he’s falling off the map. 

“Aht aht,” Iron Fist grins before roundhousing you into the wall. 

“I’m low!” Wanda warns and you grit, trying to find her but Iron Fist blocks your view. 

“Find a healing pack,” Bucky says, his gun echoing in the air. “Or run to Jeff,” 

Flying up to put distance between the two of you, you throw out darkness but he remains on your ass as you land. You watch as your health quickly declines and push him away, running back to a nearby healing pack. He follows closely, managing two punches before you dive and start attacking back. 

“Pure Chaos!” He doesn’t look back as Wanda wipes nearly half of his team. He could’ve easily eliminated her from his spot, with just two leaps but instead, he dips behind the wall so he’s out of her radius and backing you into a corner. His focus is on you as the two of you play cat and mouse until you see his cuff glow that familiar golden color. You’re no longer on any cooldowns, you could fly or use your spray but he’d catch up too fast.

“Aw shit,” You grumble, your back pressed to the wall while he grins, going to press it before time slows down. 

“Another perfect victory!” Sighing, you slump and watch as he tosses his arms up. 

You don’t watch as the MVP screen plays, skipping to meeting up with the team and heading out of the arena to the dorms. 

“Who won?” Spider-man asks as he sees the twelve of you leaving the portal. 

“We did,” Wanda smiles. “The other team put up quite the fight, though.”

“Lemme guess,” Ironman smirks. “(Y/n) MvP?”

“It was a close call,” You shrug. “I had one more kill than Bucky,” The man in question rolls his eyes and you watch as another team gets called into a fight. All you know is that you’re not in the group they called so you head up to shower. 

—

Two knocks echo throughout the mostly empty apartment as you’re watching your dinner get made. Pushing off from the counter, you open the door and stare at Lin. He’s out of his costume and in a simple compression shirt and sweats— it’s the only loungewear available so you’re in the same attire. 

“What’s up, Lin?” You ask, letting him inside. He walks inside, looking around the apartment that’s nearly identical to his, and then spins on his heels to face you. Everyone agreed that while out of the dorms, it’s strictly Code Names. Unless you’re someone like Bucky who would prefer to not be called the Winter Soldier. You just never had a hero name, public identity, and all that jazz.

“You’re a try-hard,” He says, arms crossed over his chest. “I checked your stats, you’ve lost zero games since you’ve gotten here. Who does that?”

“I don’t try,” You shrug, taking your food out from the weird machine. It’s probably bad for you but it’s also the only food available, so you make due. “I’m just that good.”

“You don’t get tired of winning?” He follows you into your living room, standing at the edge of your couch.

“Winners get gift baskets, I love gift baskets.” Gesturing to the basket of fruits and sweets, you hear him sigh. Looking at him, you grin and roll your head to the side. “Are you just pissy that you lost against me again?” Instead of replying, he huffs and stuffs his hands into his pockets. 

“We could make a deal,” He proposes. “You lose and I’ll give you something you want,”

“We don’t exactly have the luxury of having items here,” You remind, gesturing to the lack of items everywhere. 

“You know we’re neighbors, right?” He continues and you nod. You live at the end of the hallway with your only direct neighbors being Lin to your right and Adam in front of you. “Our bedrooms are against each other and the walls are pretty thin,” He makes a face and then waits for a beat. You lick your lips as you try to connect the dots he’s clearly trying to lay down. You do a lot of odd things to pass your time, he could be talking about the fact that you’ve been creating shadow versions of everyone to play card games for all you know. 

“I don’t see your point,” You roll your head to the side while he sighs and licks his lips. Lin takes a moment before he speaks again, having to think carefully about his next words. 

“You lose our next match and I’ll fuck you.” 

“Deal.” 

He blinks, unable to think of anything to say while you laugh.

“Sorry, did you have a speech ready?” He shakes his head and scratches his neck. 

“I just didn’t think you’d agree so fast…”

“You’re hot and I’m horny, I see two willing participants. I’ll take the stain on my perfect record. I also would’ve done it for a gift basket, I heard everyone gets different types.”

“I prefer the sex,”

“Great, can’t wait to lose.”

—

The agreement had all since left your mind as you’re queued into a game with Lin nearly two months later. You’d have ten matches in between then, the excitement gone and replaced with your small yearn to constantly win.

Okay, winning was amazing! You’ll agree, there’s a rush in seeing that victory screen and seeing the basket on your kitchen island at the end of the day. Losing was just… you don’t know, you’ve never lost before. 

Thankfully, this isn’t another domination game. It’s Convergence, which you thought was the same as Convoy for about ten matches before Dr. Strange explained that with Convergence, you needed to capture the point before the object could move. 

Glancing at your team as you load into Spider-Islands, you find yourself as the only healer. Peni, Groot— who technically does heal, it’s just no one ever goes to his healing walls—, Venom, Punisher, and Thor. It would certainly make for a lovely match against… you check your cuff and bang your head on the wall. Iron Fist, Mantis, Loki, Bucky, Namor, and Luna Snow. That’s three healers— one of which can shapeshift as his ultimate. 

It’s fine, shaking your head, you move up the staircase as the countdown stairs. You imagine Namor has his little octopus— one of which is definitely shooting ice— just waiting and Loki has his clones just waiting. The doors open and sure enough, you hear your teammates taking rapid damage. 

“Thanks for the healing,” Punisher grunts as he’s pushed back into the base. 

“You ran without looking, dumbass,” You grit, healing the teammates who didn’t push back. Groot hurriedly places a wall between the octopus and helps Peni place down her web traps. There’s a thump from the hallway to your left and you see Iron Fist slowly walking over. Taking a step forward, he watches as your hands glow black before he taps his earpiece, telling you to turn it off. Doing so, you continue to heal since he’s at a good distance. 

“We had a deal,” He reminds you and your face scrunches. 

“What fucking— oh, the fucking,” Your hands drop and he nods. “Fine, because Punisher pissed me off and half of my team are real assholes about getting healed.” He laughs, looking out of the window as your teammates continue to get dogpiled by his team. He sees them shouting for you, begging and cursing you for heals. Instead, you walk further into the hallway and take a seat on the soft couch. 

“I didn’t think you’d follow through,” He admits, closing the doors that surround the room. You get nervous, shifting in your seat as he closes the final panel door and the sounds of the fight are muffled below you. 

“I’m a man of my word but I can always back out,” You muse and he looks at you, nearly daring you to get up and fight. “Please, you couldn’t take me,” Crossing your ankles, you watch as he stalks over to you, leaning down to your height.

“I was close last time,” He hums and then pins you to the couch. Rolling away, he grabs your ankle and pulls you back, using the momentum to grab onto your thighs with both hands. Gritting, you watch as he sits between your now open legs and prop yourself up on your elbows. 

“I’m only not fighting back so I don’t eliminate you,” You defend, ignoring the twitch in your leg as he squeezes them.

“Y’know what?” He grins and leans down, his lips brushing against your ear while you shudder. “I’ll find you after you get the convoy to the first point.” He’s up in an instant and slipping through the exit. Huffing, you drop down and turn your comms on again. 

“I was getting backlined by Iron Fist,” You explain, joining the team after they barely made it a full meter. Group healing, you see Iron Fist jumping back to his team in the distance. 

“I see it was a tie, then,” Thor points out and you shrug, fixing your cape over your body. 

“We called for a rematch,” Sitting on top of the robotic spider, you push the other team back, bringing them down to half while Punisher finds a perch for his turret. He grumbles something about finally showing up and you roll your eyes. 

“Thor, push Magik. Peni, why haven’t you put down your spider things yet? Groot, Luna likes using the side entrance so you should block that.” You quickly list off, falling back into the fight with ease. Normally, as a support you don’t give directions but man, does this team need it. Letting the robot as Peni stands next to it, you work on bringing their healers low. 

“Your powers are mine!” Loki shouts and you see a clone of yourself on the roof to your left. 

“Punisher, nine o’clock, before he uses my ultimate!” You tick away at his health before Punisher finds him just as you see Loki pop the ult. Dipping into a building, you manage to pull Peni and Groot in with you but the others get dived immediately. “He’s low,” You tell them, leaving out and landing the final hit on Loki.

While he killed half of your team, he fully healed his team and you huff, checking your own status. It just needs two more seconds before you can use it, so you heal Groot while waiting for the other team to all huddle together. Sure enough, they all do and you see them all rushing towards the convoy. Punisher sets up yet another turret, this time on the back portion of a roof. 

“Groot, can you box them in a little?” You ask, dodging an attack from Luna. He nods and you watch as they get pushed together before pulling back just enough that the team could get healed and the others would get eliminated. 

“Heaven and Purgatory swarms you!”  

“That’s six!” Galacta announces as you see the six kills register on your cuff. “You’re almost there, don’t stop now!” The convoy is three meters away and when you join Peni on it, it speeds up enough that you reach the checkpoint before the other team can respawn. 

Sitting on the robot, you watch as the door opens but catch the green and yellow outfit from the top of the stairs. He motions with two fingers and you grin, slipping away from the fight. 

“You’re eager,” He teases, using his hand to open your cape and looking down at your suit. His hands wander a little while you turn off your comm yet again, sparing your team a glance as they get jumped by the others. It’s like once they all got into the team they all forgot the powerhouses they normally were and suddenly sucked. 

“They’re the worst right now,” He slides open the door and pulls you inside, dragging his nose up your neck. 

“Mhmm,” He licks a stripe along your neck and you hold onto his shirt, whining at the contact. “Let me prep you,” He whispers as the door closes behind the two of you. Nodding, you let him drag you to the middle of the roof before he pushes you down to your knees. 

Staring up at him, he grins and cups your jaw, running his thumb up and down your cheek with one hand while the other removes his belt, careful to not let the red ropes hit you. It falls to the floor with a thud before he’s on his knees in front of you. He leans in, sealing his lips against yours while his hands go from your face down to your thighs. He finds a good grip on your flesh as you grip his hair, leaning closer to him and biting down on his bottom lip. 

Iron Fist moans into your mouth as your knees lift from the floor and your back is placed on the floor in one fluid motion. The kiss doesn’t break as his left-hand wanders from your thigh, pulling at your pants until he finds what he’s looking for. Once he does, he smiles into the kiss and pulls away to get a good look at you. 

He doesn’t look away from you as he grasps the loose fabric of your pants, his hand wrapping around your dick print before he slowly strokes it. Watching him with fluttering eyes you cover your mouth to keep yourself quiet. He coos before removing his right hand from your thigh and scooping your hand, lacing your fingers together, and pinning it above your head. 

You can hear the fight below you, your heartbeat rising when you hear Punisher setting up a turret in front of the door. He notices too and glances over, seeing the man’s outline, and looks back at you with a shit-eating grin.

“Please,” You gasp, chest rising with your heavy pants. “Iron,” He starts squeezing in between his strokes and you arch into him, rutting against his hand. You feel his thumb roll against the tip as he watches you, waiting for more of those delicious reactions before kissing and sucking along your neck. Grabbing the back of his head, you push him closer and continue to rub yourself against him. 

“Call me Lin,” He whispers against your chest, kissing you through the thin fabric. For a second, he lets go of your dick to pull your pants and underwear down to your knees in one motion. Your dick slaps against your stomach before it stands and he rubs his thumb over the tip again. Briefly, you hear Punisher getting eliminated but the door he was in front of thankfully doesn’t get destroyed. Feeling the weight above you lessen, you look towards Lin as he settles between your legs.

“Lin, fuck,” You pant looking down at him as he smears your pre across his fingers before slipping his hands lower. The one that was holding your wrist moves down and holds your hips down as he pushes his index finger inside. Wincing, he apologizes and kisses your inner thigh. Slowly, he adds a second finger and starts making scissoring motions until you begin moaning. For good measure, he adds a third and peers down at your hole clenching around him. 

Hiding your face in your shoulder, you use your now free hands to stroke yourself before he slaps your hands away. 

“Don’t touch yourself, just lay there and take it.” He stretches you one last time before pulling his fingers out. Whining at the loss of contact, he grins and pulls his pants down. He spits into his hand and pumps himself while lining himself up with your hole, the tip rubbing against you with each stroke. Wiggling your hips down to chase the feeling he presses harder until you stop. “You’re that desperate to let your team know what you’re doing up here?” He grins and slowly pushes inside. 

“No,” You whine, shifting as you try to quickly adjust to him inside of you. He watches your reactions carefully, using the hand that once held you down to dip under your shirt and rub against your skin. He feels your heart thumping against his hand, your nipple hard due to the contact and you moan, rolling your head back. “I don’t care if they see us,”

“Oh, really?” He laughs. You nod as he tests the waters, rolling his hips against yours. “I didn’t think you’d be into that,” There’s no reply to him aside from a strangled moan and your hands slapping the floor, finding something to hold onto. With you adjusted, he slips his hands back under your legs and presses down against you, his hips snapping as his breathing gets jagged above you. 

Wrapping your arms around his shoulders, you find yourself at a loss for words as he bottoms out. His dick drags inside of you, curving and prodding at your insides with each shallow thrust. The fabric of his shirt rubs against you, the smooth fabric feeling like heaven paired with the way he’s fucking you. 

“More,” You plead, breathless under him. He snickers from above you, lifting himself up, and starts a brutal pace. He’s lifting your lower half up from the floor with each thrust, his thighs slapping yours each time he digs deeper inside. 

“Losing just to get fucked,” He grunts. “How would your team react knowing their precious healer is getting— hugh — dicked down above them?” He doesn’t expect an answer but he also didn’t expect you to moan louder at the thought, your dick twitching in the air. “You’d like that, huh? Getting caught and letting them know you threw the match because you’re a horny bitch.” He grasps your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips puff out and drool slowly pools out from the corner. He uses the hand that didn’t prep you and sticks his fingers inside your mouth.

“Mhmm,” You nod, sucking his index finger while looking into the whites of his mask. “Wanna get caught,” He nearly whimpers and watches as your dick twitches faster, cum spurting out and landing on your black shirt and the floor. 

“Oops, guess you made a mess,” He chuckles, his thrusts getting sloppy and his hand moving from your mouth down to your hips. He can’t figure out what to do, his hands squeezing at the flesh before they trail up the side of your body. “Fuck,” He moans, leaning down to grab your face again. He watches you as he cums inside of you, still thrusting as he empties himself. You’re letting out broken noises as he does, your legs slowly lowering to the ground as he comes to a stop.

“They’ve made it halfway, stop them!” Glacata announces in his ear and he huffs. 

“They still haven’t lost?” You ask and he shakes his head, slowly pulling out. Checking your cuff, you see they all have at least six deaths and groan. 

“Round two?” He asks and you easily agree. “Ride me?” 

“I think you just wanna see my face,” You quip and he shrugs, sitting down on the floor table cushion. His back pressed against the wooden panel wall while he slowly pumped himself. You watch as the tip of his dick disappears under his skin before getting pulled taught when he pulls it down. He lets out breathy moans while you’re climbing on top of him. He unclips your cape, letting it fall down his legs and you fling it to the side. 

Holding his shoulder with your left hand, you grab his dick and slowly align yourself. He inhales sharply as his cum drips from your hole and spreads across his dick before you sink down on him. Slowly rocking back and forth, you look up at him and kiss his neck. You feel his pulse under your lips, how he’s straining himself to remain composed. 

“(Y/n),” He strains, hands gripping your ass as you start moving faster. 

“Yeah, Lin?” You ask, looking up at him from the red spot you’re leaving under his ear. 

“Don’t stop,” He moans, guiding your hips into a better position. His hips buck into yours erratically, still not fully recovered from the first orgasm. Through your cuff, you hear the countless healing pins before grumbling and tossing them to the side. Lin snickers through his parted, glossy lips. 

“You feel so good, Lin,” You breathe, hanging your head as he’s reaching deep inside of you. His tip hits your prostate more in this position and you swear to Khonshu or Bast that you’re never going to leave his dick. 

“You’re so cock hungry it’s easy,” He coos, gently stroking your cheek with his thumb as tears bead on the side of your eyes. “Next time— fuck— next time you’re in your room, touching yourself, just knock on the wall. I’ll come and make you feel this good again, yeah?” Rapidly nodding, he pulls you closer and kisses you.

“It’s the final ten seconds!” Galacta announces and you gasp while pulling away. Checking his cuff, you see the timer rapidly going down and let out a strangled groan, rocking your hips faster against him. He helps you, picking you up and slamming you down on his cock in ways that make you scream. 

“We’ll have to keep fighting until we find a winner!” Stopping on his dick, you feel yourself cumming again, this time you manage to do it at the same time. Slumping against his chest, you pant while he tosses his head back, also trying to catch his breath. 

Carefully, you peel yourself from him and lazily put your pants back on while he does the same. 

Finding your cuff, you slip it on and check the Overtime meter. It was slowly going down, so maybe another minute before the match would end. Slinging your cape back on, you feel Lin wrap his arms around you before pulling you into his chest. 

“What?” You ask, turning your head to face him. He just grins and shrugs, nipping at your ear. 

“Armed and Dangerous!” Briefly, you see Bucky launching into the air and hope he lands all his kills. 

“Nothing, just making sure you don’t leave.” He hums, squeezing your ass before giving it a small tap.

“Again!”

“I’m a man of my word, Lin. You’re teams gonna win,” 

“Again!” 

Checking the meter again, you see it rapidly going down and find that Bucky has completely wiped the team. 

“Well, you can’t expect to win ‘em all…”  

—

“Fuck was that about?” Frank pushes your shoulder as you’re transported back to your team. None of them catch your dazed look as you fix your cape over your cum stained clothes. “What happened to your streak?”

“Rough day,” You shrug. “Win some, lose some.” He grits but it is just a game after all, so he calms down and follows the rest of the team back to the portal. You see Lin halfway, getting chewed out by Bucky for being awol for the whole game, unaware that Lin is still trying to fix his belt. His eyes catch yours through his mask and he winks, making a call-me motion before you turn and head into the dorms. 

“I cannot believe you lost!” Doreen gasps as you head inside. 

“Can’t be perfect all the time,” You huff through a smile. “It won’t happen again, though.”

“It definitely will,” Lin appears behind you, subtly grabbing your ass again. Chewing the inside of your mouth, you watch as Doreen laughs before moving over to the others. Everyone else is completely unaware of his actions even as he pulls you into the elevator, roughly kissing you before the doors even fully close.

[gilverrwrites]

Now hear me out, #10 on the room prompt with Bruce. I don't know just how to describe it, but something about him having to pay whomever checks the security cameras to stay silent after fucking our brains out is so scumptious. Or maybe not even fucking and just rubbing himself on our pussy to get himself off and leave us needy. Like you have no idea how badly I need this man to cum in my panties while we're at work and tell me to "deal with it."

Bruce Wayne/F!Reader, 1.4K words AN: I'm bringing back PA/Secretary reader cause they deserve to keep fucking after the whole pollen fiasco, and we’re going heavy on the Brucie charm for this one. Is this like the third thing in a row I've written that includes our dear old reader being denied? Yes. Am I upset about it? Hell no! Warnings: Semi-public | denial | power imbalance

It doesn’t matter how many times your boss charms himself out of the consequences of being chronically late for every important meeting or event, it always rubs you the wrong way. Fortunately for him though, he’d lucked out, or perhaps planned on it, by wearing those trousers. They may seem like any other of his no doubt massive collection of black fitted trousers, but these ones in particular hug his sturdy thighs in all the right places.

You’re calming down by enjoying the view when the private elevator comes to a bumpy, unexpected stop. You lurch forward, letting out an embarrassing squeal as the lights go out until a pair of steady and familiar hands catch you. He has you comfortingly pressed into his chest when the emergency lights switch on, and he keeps you there, with a firm, soothing grip as he pulls out his phone. As his assistant, it certainly should be your job to be making calls at this point, assuring his investors that you’ll be there when the elevator is back in service and amending his future appointments to make up for lost time but Bruce is already on the line with the 20th floor receptionist and security personnel before you have the chance to beat him to it.

“I could have done all that for you.” You scold when he hangs up.

He shrugs, nonchalantly, chuckling as his hand starts to smooth its way further down your back, settling on your hip, just a half-inch shy of your ass. “Now you don’t have to.”

“Are we going to be stuck in here for long?” As you ask, you lean back to look at him, straightening his tie after your impromptu cuddle had brushed it askew. His baby blues wander upward as he considers his next words and actions until he looks back at you with a playful smile.

“Long enough that we might need to find a way to pass the time.” It’s obvious what he has in mind as his sneaky fingers slowly, but decisively start to gather up your skirt, exposing a little more of your thighs with each curl of his fingers.

Obvious, but not acceptable. “Mr Wayne, the cameras!”

His wrist is too thick for you to wrap your whole hand around but that doesn’t stop you grabbing it. Your objection doesn’t stop him, and when you turn your head to gesture at the aforementioned cameras, he only uses it as an opening to lay his lips on the side of your neck. He rubs his nose against the soft spot below your ear, breathing in your perfume before he starts to press tender and intoxicating kisses to your skin. It's maddening, and you want to melt into them but neither of you want news leaking about Bruce Wayne and his assistant making it to print.

“Sir! I really don’t think we should be doing this in here.” When you object a second time he gives pause, pulling back just enough that you can still feel the warmth of his breath.

“Relax.” His bass-like voice whispers in your ear before he starts to kiss along your jaw until you’re face to face. “Nobody is monitoring the surveillance room right now, and it won’t cost much to have the recording scrubbed. Nobody will know.”

He’s already won his case, he won the moment he started, and he knows to; he’s already wearing his victory look, that lopsided smile, hungry eyes framed by dark and pronounced brows that are begging you to challenge him. But you don’t challenge him, you succumb under his gaze, leaning up to put your arms around his shoulders a kiss him. Now that he has your official permission, Bruce wastes no time hitching up the last of your skirt, trying and failing to keep his amusement under wraps as you gasp and yelp when lifts you by the backs of your thighs, pressing you to the cold metal wall with your legs spread around his hips until you’re rested upon the railing.

“Keep quiet.” He warns with mocking sincerity, eyes fixed on your flushing face as he unbuckles those pants and reaches beneath his boxers. “Unless you want everyone on the 12th floor to get an earful of those dirty noises you make for me.”

“Easy for you to say. You’ve never had to take something that big before I’d bet.” You’re only half joking, and you know your words have stroked his ego just right by the way he shuts his eyes for a moment, suppressing his blush before he pulls out his half-hard cock. His fingers glide over it ease, bringing it to full attention without breaking his unflinching stare.

“You don’t have to take anything.” The fingers of his other hand hook into your panties, and your whole core clenches around nothing as it’s exposed to the air. He’s excruciatingly gentle he runs his finger along your slit, and you fidget on your precarious perch, desperate for more pressure as he keeps ghosting over your folds.

“I just wanna feel you.” He practically purrs, resting his forehead on yours as he lines up his crown at your entrance. “How wet you are for me.”  

True to his word he doesn’t even try to push into your waiting pussy. Instead, driving his length between your lips, sucking in a breath and bucking up until his tip drags over your clit and down again, one hand cupping the base of his cock to stimulate any parts of him that doesn’t reach between your warm lips.

“Hah.” His jaw grows momentarily slick, lids heavy as he revells in the feel of your wet and puffy folds. “You’re a very accommodating PA, you know. Always ready for me.” His voice breaks as he tries to jest. “Is this okay?”

Though he would have gotten the same response from you where he not stroking your clit with every thrust, the fact that he is certainly motivates your dreamy reply. “Y-yes. Yes Mr Wayne, keep going.”

“Good.” His breath is already shaken and heavy. “Goooood.”

He’s careful as he tucks your panties back into place, covering his cock with it before he connects his lips to yours for a heated, frenzied kiss. A messy kiss, which you deepen every time he grazes your clit just right to make your toes curl in your pumps and your grip on his suit jacket tighten.

A kiss that’s only broken periodically, when Bruce needs a second to bury his face into the crook of your neck to muffle his ragged, whimpers.

Again when you pushed back against him too hard, nearly falling from your improvised plinth.

And once more when the elevator begins to hum back to life, nearly blinding you both with the normal lighting, and causing you both to jerk as it starts to move once more.

“Shit!” You tap at his shoulders, urging him to stop, growing more angsty with each floor that flies by, ignoring how your pussy aches to finish.

“Just. One. More. Second.” Bruce growls between pants, too close to stop, unwilling to stop. Still pumping his length between your folds, each roll of his hips growing harder and further apart. “Almost- fff.”

His voice breaks completely, hard muscles softening in relief as he as he releases himself. The heady feel of his hot cum spilling against your achy pussy makes your body long for more even though your brain says no. Unconsciously you ride against him, smearing his load all over. The sight of it seeping into and staining your underwear making you lightheaded.

Despite your warnings, Bruce is the one to move first, letting you down from the wall and pulling your skirt back down before turning his back to the door just in time for the telltale DING sounds, alerting you both that you’ve reached your stop. With record speed; he tucks himself back in, neat and tidy just in time for the doors to open where Sam the receptionist is waiting to inform you that the investors are still waiting in the boardroom but are getting tetchy.

“I’ll meet you in there.” You tell him, already veering toward the bathrooms.

“No, I need you there.” His voice is terse, but his eyes are knowing.

With as much subtly as possible you gesture to your lower body, where his cum is still warm and seeping into the crevices of your pussy. Your panties, unable to contain it all; are leaking, and with every drop that starts to gradually trickle down your leg, you can feel yourself growing simultaneously more needy and paranoid.

“You’re just gonna have to deal with it.” He’s already got his charming, Brucie Wayne can-do-no-wrong face on as he places an arm around you, just high enough on your back as to not cause suspicion as he guides you toward the meeting room. “I need my best girl.”

[berrybore]

I 100% agree that canon Sally made choices against Percy’s best interest at times but I don’t necessarily think Gabe was one of them.

Let me explain, we do know that Sally knew about Poseidon and camp, there’s a very really possibility that she also knew about the prophecy to an extent. As in, she must have known her son would be in a crazy amount of danger just for being born. We know from the text that Poseidon waited until the last moment he could before claiming Percy, until his powers essentially revealed to the whole camp who he was. That’s how dangerous it was for him to be found out.

I really don’t think Percy should have been raised at camp, that fact that he had a well-meaning, loving mother is one of the biggest things that set him apart from Luke.

I do think she should have sent him to camp earlier than she did but not years earlier like maybe you were suggesting. I also agree that it was an inherently selfish decision to keep him close. She certainly didn’t do him any favors by sending him away to boarding school after boarding school where he was always the new kid, always harassed, and even physically punished by the teachers in one of them (staff of Hermes).

She was in an impossible situation and she made choices purely out of survival not stability or safety cause they had neither. But this way he wouldn’t be outright killed. But Percy is a child and he needs both, so he grows up with low self esteem, neglected, abused emotionally and physically, and without a single friend in the world with how often he changes schools. He can’t talk to his mother either because she’s a little in denial and when Percy asks hard questions she gets emotional, and he feels guilty when he upsets his mom so he stops asking altogether.

(I do believe that she went into the relationship with Gabe with her eyes open and maybe that made it harder for her to admit to herself that she was stuck, that the man she was sure she could face down near damn swallowed her whole, because she chose this, of course in her mind she was still in control but I digress. )

I think as soon as Grover and Chiron were in the picture she should have told him. Instead she told Grover not to do anything. There was a fury at the school, he was found out and attacked, why was he still there for an entire semester after the incident?

We know they didn’t tell her about the fury because we know she didn’t know. Chiron mishandled that big time because it was at that point that it became evident that whatever scent Gabe was hiding wasn’t working. Him following her wishes to the point of keeping Percy at school after an attack from a kindly one without even informing his mother of what happened is actually crazy. Hades found him and sent him a fury to his school. Right under chirons nose. Percy was serving detention with her late into the night sometimes. They should have called Sally and taken Percy to camp together. Instead he was gaslit by everyone to the point of questioning his sanity. Ran away form Grover when they met the fates and Grover still refused to say a word. Didn’t say anything to his mom because why would he at this point, who would even believe him?. Not to mention the very traumatic introduction to the demigod life by watching his mother die right in front of him.

I just think about all the individual choices that Sally, Grover, and Chiron made that led to that night on half blood hill and I think how much it didn’t need to happen.

All three of them failed him.

Sally Jackson choice safety over stability in terms of how she'd take care of her child. Both her and Percy faced years abuse by the hands of one man. Does this make her a good mother who was in over her head or an unprepared one making an impulsive decision?

You found the one hot take even I haven’t dared say aloud yet, because I think it may just be my most unpopular opinion in this fandom. One thing everyone in this fandom seems to agree on is the “universal truth” that Sally Jackson is the best mother in the history of fictional mothers. So, here’s my hot take:

Sally Jackson is not that perfect mother the fandom pretends she is.

Sally during the series? Presented as a loving and good mother. But to get to that point? Pre-series Sally is not written as a good mom; she’s written as a plot-device with the things the author needs to happen in mind and not the motivation of a good mother who prioritizes her child’s happiness and safety in mind.

And I’ll back that claim up with three ways in which Sally has failed Percy as a mother. Not just once, but repeatedly, for years.

But before we get into that, I’d like to switch what you said first. Sally Jackson chose stability over safety. Sally chose the stability of keeping her child at her side over said child’s safety. She made an inherently selfish decision that was not with her child’s best interest and overall safety in mind.

Now, the first - and most obvious one - is Smelly Gabe.

And before I can elaborate on that, I need to clarify one very important thing here, before anyone goes “don’t blame the victim!” on me: Sally Jackson is not a victim; she’s a fictional character. Fictional characters can be written as victims, but they are not autonomous people who make their own choices; their choices are very deliberately made by their author for them. And I want to look at the choices that went into writing her this way, writing her story this way.

Real abuse victims get stuck in abusive relationships for a variety of reasons and they don’t get out of them for equally various reasons. Most of the time, it’s something like “he was so sweet and kind at first, but by the time he showed his real face, it was too late” (and, as a note to that; Percy describes Gabe as having been nice to them for a total of thirty seconds before showing his real face. Now while that is, of course, and exaggeration, it still goes to say that Gabe was pretty much upfront about what kind of person he was).

I’ve never heard one start with “he was the most disgusting, grossest man I could possibly find”. Sally Jackson chose this man. Not just in the way one picks a partner. She went out there and chose the stinkiest, grossest man.

It was a deliberate choice on Riordan’s part to have Sally choose an abusive relationship over sending her son away for his own safety. And this decision did not keep Percy safe; Percy Jackson was abused in his own home, by a horribly stinking man, for six years of his life. That’s not keeping your child safe.

The choice was not made to keep Percy safe; the choice was made to keep Percy with Sally. It was inherently selfishly motivated; she didn’t want to send him away, she wanted to keep him with her.

Sally loves Percy, she loves him dearly and fiercely, I’m not arguing that. But that love led to her not wanting to let go of him. And sometimes, parenting means making tough choices, sometimes loving someone means you have to make a tough decision.

In this case, the “tough decision” is presented as Sally bravely putting up with six years of abuse at Gabe’s hand. That’s the narrative chosen by the author.

But the actual “tough decision” would have been to send Percy to Camp Half-Blood, where he would have been safe. That’s the tough choice a mother would have had to make to keep her child safe.

That’s the tough choice the parents of most of the year-rounders have made. Mister Beauregard sent his daughter all the way from Paris to New York to give her this safety. The distance alone guaranteeing he wouldn’t see her for years potentially - because flying between New York and Paris is not necessarily easily affordable for everyone. Sally’s option was to send Percy to a camp that’s literally one and a half hours away. She could have still seen him, he could have easily visited her.

But her solution was to mask Percy’s scent by marrying a stinking, gross, abusive man.

Let me just stretch once more: Sally’s choice did not keep Percy safe. Sally’s choice made their home unsafe. It brought the danger and pain into their home. It may have moderately protected Percy from monsters - until The Lightning Thief kicked in - but it did not keep Percy actually safe, because it put him into a different kind of danger and through a different kind of pain.

For six years. And, this is where the “not a real person but a fictional character” thing comes up again, because this isn’t a woman where one choice leads to a date with a man which leads to a relationship which leads to abuse that she doesn’t know how to get out of anymore. She is a fictional character whose journey was set out to end with her being in an abusive relationship.

And we also don’t know why she didn’t get out of it. She’s not a real person, we don’t know if she was so scared of Gabe that she didn’t know how to leave, if her lack of a support system is what led to her not leaving him, or if it was the motivation of not giving up Percy. The real, actual reason is that Riordan wanted to keep her in there and keep Percy out of the loop until he was twelve and The Lightning Thief could happen. Because she was able of getting rid of him as soon as the truth unravelled and Percy met camp.

And I’d like to use the way she did that to drive back home just how bad Gabe was, just how bad the situation Sally and Percy were in for six years, really was.

She murders him. She flat-out murders him. Both, her and Percy, together. This twelve-year old child who we meet and get to know as kind and not... not a murder-child, is ready to kill a man. That’s how badly Gabe abused them; both of these kind people chose murder to get rid of him.

And it’s just something I’ve never gotten over. Riordan really made the decision that his protagonist’s mom would rather get them both into an abusive home than give Percy up to camp. That was his decision; there could have been other ways. One thing that would have made this seem less like a deliberate choice would have, for example, been Sally not knowing about camp.

If she was a desperate mother, who saw no other options? That’d have made the situation different too. But we know Sally knew about camp. She knew there was a place she could send her son where he would be safe from the monsters, but she decided against that, she decided that she wanted to keep him close, at any costs - and the cost was six years of abuse.

I do not think that this decision should be framed as a heroic sacrifice, because the fact that she knew of an actually safe solution and decided against it was inherently selfish. She did not put up with six years of abuse for selfless reasons because there was “no other way”; there was, she knew that, but the author didn’t want her to take that.

Sometimes, the sacrifice is letting go of your child. And, as mentioned before, she wouldn’t have let go of him for good - camp is in the same bloody city as she is living. Literally one and a half hours away from her.

Now on to the other two ways in which I think Sally Jackson failed Percy.

For one, the lies about his father. Now, real people who are left by their partner with a baby, they can pick whatever to tell their kids whenever. But, again, this is a fictional character and the author makes the decision for her. And this, again, was a decision made solely based on the end result; Riordan needed Percy to not be in the know by the time The Lightning Thief came around, even though from a character-perspective, telling Percy the truth earlier would have been the logical and right decision.

If your kid is a demigod who is attracting real actual monsters with his scent alone? Percy started really attracting monsters when he was six years old and for the next six years, Sally didn’t disclose the truth to him; not about monsters, not about his father, not about the fact that Percy may have powers.

Percy attracted so many monsters that it led to Sally getting married to Gabe. That’s how badly he attracted monsters. Which also implies that Percy must have seen monsters. We get to see in The Lightning Thief just how much Percy thinks he’s going crazy with the things he sees. And that’s  been going on for six years too - six years and in those, his scent only got stronger.

This, again, isn’t just one decision she made. This is a decision she made every single day over and over again. The decision not to tell Percy about his father, the powers, the simple reassurance that he’s not going insane, that monsters are real. This was Percy’s reality and it would obviously only become more and more of an issue the older Percy got, but every single day, she chose not to tell him, to let him believe not just a lie but also steadily that he was going crazy.

And it’d have gone a long way if he had just known. Even with Gabe in their life, even if she hadn’t made the choice to send him to camp at age six, it’d have helped him so much to know the truth and be prepared for this life.

Because this wasn’t just an issue of “the guy left me, I don’t want to talk about it with my kid”, this was inherently about, once more, Percy’s safety. Knowing what to watch out for, knowing the thing you should watch out for is actually real, are huge factors in Percy’s safety. Having him as well-prepared as possible.

She knew his father was Poseidon. It’s not even that she had sex with some dude, not knowing who he was. She knew he was Poseidon. She knew what Percy’s parentage was, she must have observed the slow development of Percy’s powers over the years.

But again, she chose to leave him in the dark about it. He could have been well-prepared by age twelve. Read up everything on Poseidon, experimented with potential powers he may have, understanding why the fishes in the aquarium are talking to him and that he is not actually hearing voices, learning.

But that’s not useful for the author; Riordan wants an unprepared Percy who can be used to introduce this world to the reader.

The choice to not tell Percy the truth about his father and about being a demigod was made deliberately and, again, not in Percy’s best interest. And in this case, there really is no other interpretation left aside from “the author needs it to happen this way” - with Gabe, there is the legitimate argument that she may have been at one point just an abused woman stuck in a relationship with no out because we don’t know enough to know what her motivation and situation were exactly - but there is... no benefit at all in lying to Percy about this, no reason for it.

The moment he first started being in actual life-threatening danger because monsters came after him, it became a pressing matter to tell him what monsters are, that they are real and why they are after him and to prepare him for it.

Which brings me to the third instance.

She never prepared him - even just in a mortal manner. Even if we let the first two - the marriage to Gabe and the lies about his father - stand as they are, Sally could have done something very simple to prepare Percy for his life and to help keeping him safe.

Self-defense classes. Judo. Martial arts. Sword-fighting classes. Whatever.

Many parents teach their kids these kind of things from a young age. Parents whose kids aren’t in constant danger of being attacked by monsters. One of your first parental instincts should be to teach your kid to be safe; to protect themselves. Give him the means to fight back.

So, that’s it. That’s the three very vital and important instances in which I think Sally failed Percy as a mother; not just once, but repeatedly, for years.

Instead of sending him to a safe place where he could learn about his heritage and learn control of his powers as well as learning how to fight the monsters after his life, she chose to marry an abusive, smelly man whose scent would mask Percy’s. Probably. Hopefully. But it didn’t really, not all the time. As shown by The Lightning Thief and monsters coming after Percy. And Percy starts to think he’s crazy, because at no point did she tell him about the monsters, and at no point does he really know how to fight for his life, because at no point did she put the means to defend himself into his hands.

No. No, I do not think that those are the decisions a good mother would make. Those are decisions the author made because he knew the starting point of his story and he knew where Percy’s character needed to be for that.

The thing that’s glossed over are the choices Riordan implicitly made Sally make. To get to this point for Percy, at age 12, he had to make Sally repeatedly act against Percy’s best interests and deliberately not tell Percy the truth or teach him way to stay safe. So he masks those choices by putting on a framework that’s meant to make you only look at her suffering and the outcome, not the choices that led to it. That was Riordan’s choice and he framed it in a way that the fandom ate up and celebrates, when... neither Sally, nor Riordan, had do to that. There was another option on the table and, if Riordan had sat down and thought hard, I’m pretty sure there would have been more options.

The bottom line, what Sally’s parenting comes down to in the end, is that she and Percy got stuck with an abusive man for six years, because she didn’t want to send him to an actual safe place, she spent six years essentially gaslighting Percy about the things he hears/sees by not telling him the monsters are actually real and she repeatedly left him in unnecessary danger by not giving him the means to defend himself in any way whatsoever. And those are not signs of good parenting, not in my book.

But it’s just so much easier to ignore all of that and pretend that blue candy and trips to Montauk are the end all be all and that Sally’s fierce love for her son is the most defining trait of parenting. I know that. Most of the time, I’m right there with you - I love fanon!Sally, I love to pretend she’s the best mom ever and never did anything wrong, because I know the decisions are inherently made by Riordan and are a by-product; I know he wants her to be a good mother, I know throughout the series, he writes her as a good and loving mother.

But if I have to be honest and if I look at the whole text, including the implications of their past, canon!Sally isn’t that good of a mother.

[morgana-larkin]

Alright as it was heavily demanded, here’s part 2 to “Just Tired”. I honestly had no idea that it would get so much interest and so quickly as well. Not edited in the slightest and I hope you like it!

Part 1

Just Tired - Part 2

Warnings: Manipulative relationship, small amount of swearing, confused Mel

Words: 3.1k

Melissa gets home and lets out a sigh before she puts her stuff down and sees Joe on the couch.

“What are you doing home so early?” She asks him and he looks at her.

“Why? Don’t you want to spend time with me?” He asks.

“Of course I do, I-I’m just wondering as you’re normally still at the fire station at this time.” She tells him.

“They sent me home as there was nothing today but I’m still on-call. Where were you? Weren’t you supposed to be here about 20 minutes ago?” He asks her.

“I was driving a coworker home as she was having car troubles.” She explains to him.

“Playing the hero I see.” He says and she looks down.

“Was just trying to help someone.”

“Looking for praise or something?”

“No, just letting you know why I’m home late as you asked.” She says and he gets up and walks over to her.

“I know I asked you, do you think I’m stupid?” He asks her and she shakes her head.

“N-no.” She says and she backs up into the door and he traps her there.

“I really wanted to give you a hello kiss but the fact you think I’m stupid hurt my feelings.” He says and he turns around. She immediately reaches out and grabs his wrist.

“I’m-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it.” She says and he smiles at her and gives her a kiss before going back to the couch.

“What’s for dinner?” He asks her.

“Leftovers from yesterday.” She tells him.

“Can’t we have something else? The meal wasn’t that good yesterday.” He tells her and she looks upset at his comment before she nods.

“Of course, I’ll go make something else.” She tells him and goes to the kitchen. She goes into the kitchen and hears a show on the tv and she lets some tears escape her and she sniffles a few times before she stops herself and goes to the fridge to see what she can make.

“So do we have any plans this weekend?” Melissa asks him as they have dinner.

“I don’t know, it’s only Tuesday.” He says. “Why?” He asks her.

“No reason, just wondering.” She says.

“Was there anything specific you wanted to do?”

“No, just making conversation.” She says and he looks at her before nodding.

“Well how about we go to a bar to watch the game this weekend.” He suggests.

“Why do we have to go to a bar to watch it? We can watch it on our TV here.” She tells him.

“You wanted to know about any plans and then when I give you one you immediately shoot it down. Why are you being so controlling?” He asks her.

“I’m not.” She defends herself.

“You are.” He says and she looks down at her now empty plate.

“Alright we can go to the bar.” She gives in and then he gets up and gives her a kiss.

“There, now was that so hard?” He asks her and she shakes her head.

“No.” She tells him and he gives her another kiss before he goes back to the tv. Melissa sighs and then puts her head in her hands.

The next morning, Melissa is getting ready for work and then grabs her things and leaves. She’s driving to work and she’s stuck behind a bus and then she sees you running after it while the bus takes off and leaves you behind. She rolls her eyes and then pulls up at the bus stop.

“Get in.” She calls out to you and you look at her.

“What? Oh hi Melissa.” You tell her.

“Come on, get in, I’m holding up traffic.” She says and you quickly get in as someone is honking behind her and Melissa flips them off. “You realise that you would have been late even if you got on that bus.” She tells you and you sigh before nodding.

“I know, but I forgot to set an earlier alarm.” You tell her and she hums.

“By the way, about yesterday, I’m sorry that I snapped at you, it wasn’t intentional.” She tells you and you look at her.

“It’s alright, I honestly forgot all about it.” You tell her with a smile.

“I know, it’s just that…wait, what?” She asks you confused.

“I forgot that happened yesterday, but just so it’s off of your conscious, I forgive you.” You tell her and she stops at a red light and looks at you weirdly. “What?”

“You just forgive me, so easily?” She asks and you nod. “Why?” She asks and you tilt your head and furrow your eyebrows.

“Because there’s no hard feelings and it wasn’t that bad. I get that you’re a really closed off person and you don’t like talking about your life so you got defensive.” You tell her and you look at her. “Can I ask you something and it’s totally alright if you tell me to fuck off?” You ask her and she nods. “Are you not used to people forgiving you?” You ask her and you see her tense up. “Or not used to someone specific forgiving you?” You add and she lets out a deep breath.

“Yes.” She suddenly says. “My husband.” She adds and you look at her. You then nod and turn back around to see out the window as you don’t want to pry. “He always makes a big show until he even thinks about forgiving me.” She suddenly adds and you turn to look at her.

“Can I ask another question?” You ask her and she shrugs.

“You might as well just go all in.” She says and you chuckle.

“How often do you apologise to him?” You ask her and she thinks about it.

“Well whenever I do something wrong, that changes daily.” She easily says.

“And does he still make a big show even if you apologise?” You ask her and she nods.

“All the time.” She says. “Why are you asking me?” She asks you.

“He sounds a bit like an ass if you ask me.” You tell her bluntly and you see a small smile on her face.

“That’s just married life hon.” She tells you as she pulls into the parking lot. “He loves me and I love him and that’s what matters.” She adds and you both get out. “And one day maybe you’ll have a husband as well and you’ll know what I’m talking about.” She tells you as she starts walking to the school.

“Not really as my husband will be a wife.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Well if you’re lucky enough to have a wife then you’ll know what I’m talking about.” She corrects herself and you smile at her.

“You know when you let yourself have a crack in your wall then you’re a decent person.” You joke with her and she shakes her head.

“Alright, get in the school.” She tells you and playfully nudges you.

“Oh Y/n, are you still having car problems?” Jacob asks you and you nod.

“Ya, I took the bus this morning.” You say, covering for Melissa and you see her glance your way before turning back to the coffee machine.

An hour later you’re decorating your door when Melissa comes up to you.

“You told them you took the bus.” She tells you and you look at her.

“Yep, I didn’t know if you wanted it on the record that you’re being nice to a newbie, it’s even dangerous that you’re even talking to one right now.” You say playfully and with a smile and she snorts.

“You don’t take anything in life seriously do you?” She asks you and you shake your head.

“Not really.” You say. “That’s probably why the kids are gonna love me.” You say with a big smile and she looks at you.

“Do you love working with kids?” She asks and you nod.

“Love kids, they’re adorable and the things they come up with are really entertaining and interesting.” You tell her as you tape name tags on the door as she’s leaning on the wall and looking at you.

“I can't wait to see how you teach.” She tells you and you look up at her and see her arms are crossed but staring at you.

“Well you know maybe I can learn a thing or two from a seasoned teacher such as yourself.” You say and smile at her.

“We’ll see.” She tells you.

“So I get a maybe? I’ll take a maybe.” You tell her and you don’t notice Janine peeking her head out and staring at you two.

“So I can drive you home again if you want. Unless you prefer running after a bus again.” She offers and you smile at her.

“I’d appreciate that, thank you.” You tell her and she nods.

“Love the crayon name tags by the way.” She says and then walks to her classroom.

Lunchtime comes and Melissa walks into the break room where everyone already is and she sees you in a deep conversation with Janine and Jacob while she walks to the fridge. She grabs the big bowl of leftovers from Monday and puts it in the microwave while “accidentally” eavesdropping on the conversation.

“So you went on a date with an older ginger a month ago?” Janine asks you and you nod.

“She was really hot but we didn’t have much in common. Which is a shame as older gingers are my type.” You tell them and Melissa doesn’t notice the blush on her cheeks when you say that, instead she focuses on putting servings on 5 plates.

“It’s your lucky day you kids. I had quite a bit of leftovers so here’s some gnocchi asparagi e pancetta.” She tells you 3 and also hands Barb a plate.

“Oh, that sounds really good and looks amazing.” You tell her and she looks at you.

“Did you understand everything I told you?” She asks and you nod.

“I took an Italian course as an elective.” You tell her and then you look at the food and take a bite. “Holy crap! This is probably the best thing I’ve ever tasted.” You say and you miss the small blush on Melissa’s cheeks but Barb catches it.

Lunch is over and you were only able to eat half of what she gave you so you pack the extra portion up in your lunchbox and then continue working.

You’re working on your lesson plan when Melissa knocks on your door and you look up at her.

“Why hello Melissa. Twice in one day? If I didn’t know any better I’d say I was growing on you.” You tell her and she shakes her head at you and rolls her eyes.

“Don’t hold your breath, hon.” She tells you and you quirk your eyebrows at her. “I just wanted to ask you if you really liked what I made or if you were just putting up a front because people were there? You can tell me the truth.” She says and you tilt your head.

“You really want the truth?” You ask her and she nods. “Ok the truth is that it’s the best thing I’ve ever fucking tasted! I mean you could be an amazing chef if you wanted.” You tell her. “I mean I’m having the rest of it tonight and my roommate is not getting a single bite.” You say to her and she looks down and smiles. “Why did you think I might have been lying just because people are around?” You ask her and she shrugs.

“I don’t know.” She says softly. “Thanks for telling me the truth, hon.” She says and then goes back to her classroom. You look at your doorway in confusion and wonder about Melissa. Some of her actions seem familiar with something you’ve read about but can’t quite place it. You decide to just leave it alone and continue your lesson plan.

At the end of the day Melissa locks up her classroom and sees you still writing down something. She walks over to your classroom and knocks on the door and you look up at her.

“Hey Melissa.” You tell her. “I know it’s the end of the day but I just need to finish this up.” You tell her and she nods.

“What are you finishing up?” She asks as she walks into your classroom.

“Lesson plan. I want to have the first month planned out so I don’t fall behind.” You tell her.

“Hon, take it from a seasoned teacher, you will fall behind, every teacher falls behind. And you shouldn’t plan so far in advance until you get to know your students, cause you don’t know what they’re like until basically the 3rd week.” She explains to you.

“I don’t even know why I was hired, I have no fucking clue what I’m doing.” You pout and then lay your head on your desk. You miss the smile that Melissa has on her face due to your little freak out.

“Hon.” She says and you turn your head to look at her. “It’s your first year and first time you’re doing this by yourself. Of course you’re nervous, I would be worried if you weren’t. But you’re gonna do great because you’re a good person and the kiddos will love you.” She tells you.

“You’ve known me for 3 days, you don’t know if I’m a good teacher or not.” You tell her.

“Let me see your lesson plan.” She tells you and you prop your head up and hand her the lesson plan. You watch her as she puts her glasses on and then reads it before she sets it back down on your desk. “This is pretty good and I know the kids will have fun on the first week.” She tells you with a small smile. “So come on, let me take you home as you have leftovers to eat.” She tells you and you smile as you remember the food and quickly get your things and follow Melissa out.

“Melissa.” You say as you put your seatbelt on and she looks at you. “You said you live less than a mile away from me.” You start and she nods. “Now you can totally say no but if I walked to your place, would you be willing to drive me to school until I get paid and can put gas in the car?” You ask her and she looks at you and thinks about it.

“Give me your phone.” She says and you take it out and give it to her.

“Why?” You ask her.

“So I can put my number in it and send you my address.” She states.

“Oh, obviously I guess.” You joke and she smiles before she sends a text to her phone so she can save your number to her phone.

“I’ll text it to you when I get home.” She tells you and you nod before you see the nickname she gave herself in your phone and you quirk an eyebrow at her.

“Really? Older ginger?” You ask her and she shrugs.

“Heard that’s what you’re into, so why not.” She says as she pulls out of the parking lot and you laugh.

“I like it, it’ll confuse everyone.” You say and she winks at you. “I can’t wait to eat the leftovers, I’ll guard it so well so my roommate can’t touch it at all.” You say and she smiles.

She drives you home and then you grab your things and get out.

“Thanks again Melissa.” You tell her and she nods.

“I’ll see you at 7am tomorrow at my place. If you’re not there by 7:01 then I’m taking off without you.” She says and you nod.

“That’s fair.” You say and then close the door and walk to your door and go inside.

Melissa drives to her place and goes inside. She takes her things off and lets out a deep breath. She gets her phone out and sends you her address before she goes to the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine.

An hour later and she’s warming up yesterday’s leftovers when she gets a text.

You: Roommate smelled the food and tried to steal it…👩🏼‍🦱 🥊

Melissa: You punched your roommate?

You: If she didn’t give it back then I would have. Unfortunately it didn’t come to that…been looking for an excuse to punch her lately.

Melissa: I thought I understood you but I don’t think I do

You: I wouldn’t try, I’m an enigma

Melissa: I will understand you at some point

Melissa watches as the 3 dots keep popping up and then disappearing. She decided to continue with the task of heating up the leftovers and then she gets a text from you.

You: Trying to understand me is like you making friends with a newbie

Melissa snorts at that comment and that’s when Joe gets home so she puts her phone away.

“What a day.” He says as he enters the kitchen. “There was a building fire and 5 car accidents today.” He tells her and she looks at him.

“Wow, sounds like a long day.” She says.

“It was. I was thinking we could have dinner on the couch and watch a movie to relax.” He suggests and she hands him a plate of heated leftovers.

“Alright, we can do that.” Melissa tells him.

After they finish dinner, they both stay seated on the couch as the movie is still going. Melissa is leaning an elbow on the side of the couch and resting her head on her hand. She keeps glancing over at Joe throughout the movie and eventually he notices.

“Why do you keep looking at me?” He asks her.

“Why do we never cuddle anymore?” She asks him. “Before we used to cuddle all the time.”

“We never cuddled all the time. And we were different years ago, I just don’t like to cuddle that much.” He tells her.

“You used to love it.” She says softly.

“I never did, I don’t know where you got that idea.” He says to her and she sighs softly.

Later that night, Melissa is lying awake in bed as Joe was asleep beside her. She can’t seem to fall asleep as some thoughts were in her head. Her thoughts got a bit mixed up since you asked if it was a happy marriage and she doesn’t know why she got so defensive. She’s certain she’s happy and they love each other, but there’s a nagging feeling inside of her that she can’t shake. Eventually she ends up falling asleep.

Taglist: @esposadejoyhuerta

@imaginesmultifandoms

@idonothingalldays-blog

@sexysapphicshopowner

@dvrkhcld

@lilfartbox1

@ricejucie

@unicorniusfallapatorius

@a-queen-and-her-throne

@sleep-deprived-athlete

@og-kxsh-420

@sasheemo

@midnight-lestrange

@dashbag-art

@morgananyx

@schmentisgf

@cblanchetts

@that-october-night

@schemmentigfs

@italianaidiota

Let me know if you want to be added!

[abbysimsfun]

Sims In Bloom: Generation 2 Pt. 138 (Ash In Captivity)

Ash Landgraab woke inside a small wooden shack. He was still wearing his winter clothes, but a warm sunshine was setting outside the small windows. His head hurt, but he thought he made out palm trees below clear blue sky. Did he smell the ocean?

He remembered being taken by a man in a hood and sunglasses, but the man stuck him with something sharp...and then he woke up here. Outside, he heard the voice of the man who grabbed him, his words muffled as he spoke to someone on the phone.

"How much longer are we supposed to wait? If we can't get back, who knows what we'll even make it back to? The longer we're here-"

The man grumbled, sticking the phone in his pocket as the door to the shack swung open. Ash kept his face forward to mask his fear, making note of the items in the room. An old fridge that smelled like rotting food, a few books, a camper's portable bed, and an old Grimophone.

Catching the boy's eyes glance toward the music player, the man sneered. Did he know what it could do? "It's broken. Don't even think about trying to play music. If you make so much as a sound-"

"You'll do what? Kidnap me?"

"Worse." The man sneered with a shake of his head. "You Landgraabs are all the same. Smart mouths, no sense. What moron convinced your family to let security take vacation during the Easter break? We'd never have gotten close to you, otherwise."

Ash frowned. "I...my Nan said it was a nice idea! How do you know Conrad, anyway? What other Landgraabs do you know?"

Ash's captor laughed. "So many questions! I don't have time for any of them. I need to go get someone; you stay here. If you try to leave, the whole place will blow. And if it doesn't, there will be two men with big guns guarding the door. Their orders are to shoot if you try to escape."

"You said on the phone you don't even know what we're waiting for. Who were you talking to?"

"It's rude to listen to people's phone calls."

"It's rude to talk about people behind their backs!"

The man clenched his fist with a glower. "If you weren't worth more alive then dead..."

He stopped himself, pulling out his phone again. The door slammed shut behind him, and he made a show of loudly turning a skeleton key to lock it behind him. "No bull, kid. Remember, men with guns will be here any second now."

(There is Landgraab in Ash, guys. It's not advisable to talk to your kidnapper like this at nine years old, but just because Ash doesn't talk to everyone this way doesn't mean he doesn't have that instinct when faced with someone rude! He's been raised - by the Landgraabs - believing he's special and his kidnapper all but confirms it.)

Ash slid under the covers in the small bed, waiting until he heard the man swim to an outrigger canoe in crystalline water, parked next to tall black rocks. He could definitely smell the ocean, but it didn't smell anything like the sea in Brindleton Bay.

When the man and his canoe disappeared behind the rocks under the rapidly setting sun, Ash moved quickly. He was familiar with Grimophones because they still had Bella Goth's from the time his parents' learned to make ambrosia. He knew Lavender loved dancing to music playing from the old machine, but he also knew it could be used to summon someone who didn't need unlocked doors to move around.

He'd never used it to call the Grim Reaper before, but he moved close, speaking quietly into the black and gold painted horn. "Excuse me, Mr. Grim Reaper, sir. I could really use your help if you're free right now."

He waited a few long, agonizing moments before the Grim Reaper appeared in the corner. "Ash Landgraab? I was just spending time with dear Bella! What are you doing in Sulani?"

"I...I'm not sure. Someone took me and I woke up here."

"Took you?" Grim peeled back in shock. "Are you hurt?"

"My head hurts and I'm hungry, but I'm okay I think...You're like a courier, right? Can you get a message to my parents to tell them where I am? The man said he had to go get someone and that more men were coming soon, and he said they'd have guns. I'm scared!"

Grim's hollow black face still emanated sympathy for the boy. "Will your parents have time to reach you? It's a long flight to Sulani..."

"My grandparents have a really fast jet," he offered nervously.

Grim nodded. "I'll do everything I can to get them here as fast as possible. When the men come, just try to stay calm."

Ash nodded in agreement as Grim disappeared in another puff of black smoke. His stomach grumbled, but he didn't want to eat whatever might be turning inside the fridge.

Grim reappeared moments later, but he hadn't landed in Brindleton Bay or San Myshuno. He stood before Felix, Lilith, Rafa, and Melissa outside the abandoned ship. Lilith grinned excitedly. "Oh wow! That's not just cosplay; you're the Grim Reaper!"

Felix cleared his throat. He'd avoided Grim for over a century, having taken somewhat personal their last unfortunate meeting on the day of Felix' death. "Hello, Grim. You're not here to reap someone's soul tonight, are you? We're quite enjoying our vacation."

"Speak for yourself," interjected Rafa. "You really won't give up no matter how many times I tell you I won't cooperate with you and Conrad."

"It really is in your best interests-"

Melissa stepped forward with a frown. "He said no. Can't you just leave him alone?"

"I can, most certainly. But Conrad's an officer of the law and I'm not so sure he can."

Grim shook his head, his deep, echoed voice reverberating over their own. "I'm not here to reap any souls no matter how much your bickering tempts me. I'm here for Conrad's stepson, Ash Landgraab."

"He's just a boy!" argued Felix. "You can't be serious."

"I'm not here for his soul; Ash asked for my help. He's been kidnapped, and they're keeping him on an island not far from here. His parents don't even know yet that he's missing. They'll find out soon."

Rafa shot a look at the hooded reaper before them. "You're really the Grim Reaper?"

Felix nodded, remembering his death as though it were yesterday. "Trust me, it's him."

"I don't trust you!" argued Rafa.

"Enough! Time is the only thing that matters and that boy is running out. The people who took him didn't fly him to Sulani on a commercial airline. When Ash called me through an old Grimophone in the shack where they're keeping him, I went back in time to find him."

Rafa's eyes bulged. "Seriously, what the hell is with you people?!"

"It's only a few hours difference. Just a little earlier today. But that just means it'll take his family a little longer to get here and he said there would be men with guns. You could help him before they even know he's gone."

"What men with guns?"

"I'd imagine they're connected to the same group of hitmen responsible for too many of my visits out here."

"So, you're saying a kid was taken by a time traveler and brought to hitmen in Sulani? Why would someone do that?"

"He told you why," Lilith said carefully. "The kid's a Landgraab."

Melissa's face fell. "Like the company? So they took Conrad's stepson for ransom money?"

The Grim Reaper shrugged. "I don't know anything else, other than to note he was headed to the tiki bar when I saw him on my way over here. He looked frustrated - maybe they were supposed to travel to a different time and place but something went wrong."

"What do you mean 'wrong'?"

He shrugged again. "I've been around a long time; I know plenty that can go wrong with time travel. If his kidnapper figures out what went wrong, they could be gone to who knows where, and who knows when, before his family has a chance to look for him."

Felix and Lilith stepped forward eagerly. "We're in," said Lilith. "I haven't met Ash's parents yet, but Felix owes them his life and I owe them for Felix."

Rafa grumbled, as good-hearted Melissa glanced at him cautiously. "You want to help them, don't you...Rafa, it's dangerous!"

"I have to, Mel. If I don't help Conrad's stepson and he knows I was asked, what would he owe me anymore?" ->

<- Previous Chapter | Gen 2 Start | Gen 2.1 Summary

Gen 1 Start | Gen 1 Summary

NOTE: Time travel?! Blame the new rewards event and the inherent weirdness of The Sims, but just like embracing my gameplay (mistakes and all!) and turning it into storyline, in keeping with the tradition of baking rewards events into the plot, we're going there and this is the gateway!

WCIF Shack Build? Lost Cave on the Sims 4 Gallery by ApollArtemisLuna. I thought it would be this cave-looking lot with big boulders, but when I placed it there were no boulders. If I read German I might have known this only looked like this in the screenshot because it was placed inside the Forgotten Grotto, presumably with TOOL. So I pivoted from Plan A and surveyed the lot I got. Definitely still fit the vibe of the location and -voila!- a Grimophone was included by the creator!

Ash definitely knows what a Grimophone is and what it can do since Heather and Conrad still have Bella's (it's theirs now, really), and the plot sprouted from the gallery build. I can't stress enough how much I love the Gallery and how it inspires my creativity in ways trying to build my own lots wouldn't do! Thank you builders!

[colorlessjay]

A Little Elbow Grease

“You have a name to uphold”

That’s what Castiel’s father told him when he was old enough to understand and comprehend words. He was the third youngest of 9 kids, who were known to be on top of everything.

Doctors, Scientists, Business Owners, Lawyers. The Shurley's have a legacy of intelligence, dedication, and greatness, with the stray rebel here and there who eventually succumb to the family name and fall in line

All except little Castiel, the unplanned angel of Thursday who, despite his hard work, constant note-taking, and obsession with studying, has never gotten higher than a C- in his entire life. And that was because his teacher took pity (And maybe because they feared the Shurley name)

His family was generally understanding, if not a little condescending. His older sister Naomi had called him 'special'. Anna tries to be more encouraging about it, saying Castiel has a spirit like no other. Balthazar had tried to get Castiel to do more recreational hobbies, but none of it ever stuck. None of it he was ever good at or remotely interested in.

They never saw any evidence of Castiel straying from his studies, in fact, even his brother Gabriel voiced his (mocking) concern for Castiel's lack of social life. Michael tells him not to read so much in the dark, or else his eyes get worse. Raphael merely chastises him when he catches the young boy in the kitchen in the dead of night, nose-deep in notes and textbooks.

But no matter what Castiel does, he always ends up last in his class, just above the delinquents who barely go to class in the first place.

Ironic given how early Castiel gets to school every day

So Castiel takes drastic measures - asking for Lucifer's help. Despite being the black sheep of the family, Lucifer has achieved great things as a lawyer (Regardless of how... questionable his morals may be)

Lucifer's idea was... classist to put it lightly, but Castiel was desperate to ensure his last year of senior high saw him at the top of his class.

It took a bit of convincing (Lucifer was a very good lawyer) but by the start of spring, Castiel found himself enrolled in a no-name public school whose reputation was good enough to make sure Castiel wouldn't get kidnapped on the first day

What Castiel didn't account for, were the students that riddled the place. Demons of pure teen angst and rebellion

He definitely didn't expect to chase after the most stubborn, hard headed, but incredibly intelligent boy in the entire school, trying to convince him to be his study partner.

Castiel will not give up now. He's failed and fallen far enough.

Dean Winchester will be his wings

—--------------

“Get your GED and get out”

That’s what Dean's dad told him when he was old enough to pick up a wrench. After that? Nothing else really mattered anymore. His dad had a point, John couldn’t put both Sam and Dean through college, especially after they had lost everything to that damn fire. And Sam has so much more potential as a lawyer than Dean could as an engineer. The choice between who gets the college treatment was a no-brainer

John was too stubborn to ask for help beyond having Uncle Bobby and Aunt Ellen watch his kids while he ‘busted his ass for extra bucks’. Dean is beyond asking what his dad actually did when he goes off for weeks at a time to who knows where. He’s learned the hard way that you don’t ask a man where he gets his money.

The day after his 16th birthday, Dean practically begged Bobby to let him work part-time at his garage. He refused any gift, saying all he wanted for his birthday was steady pay and a warm bed for Sam. And like his dad, Dean was a stubborn bull. And besides, Bobby would rather Dean work somewhere he can keep an eye on the boy

During summers, Dean takes extra shifts at the garage and the Roadhouse Diner, often trying to charm his way for extra tips here and there. After school (the days Bobby forces him to go to ‘watch over Sam’), Dean would go straight back to work, even begging both Bobby and Ellen to give him a shift. And when that didn’t work, he would go around town offering to mow lawns, tend gardens, walk dogs, just about anything for an extra buck.

And all that money always went to Sammy’s college fund. Stanford ain’t cheap, and Dean was determined to give his baby brother the best opportunity he could

Rumors went around that he was an addict of some kind, willing to do anything for cash for some kind of fix. Someone even tried to offer him money to do their bidding, do their homework, be their boyfriend, and some more unsavory offers.

One suspension, two bloody fists, and three trips to the nurse’s office later, Dean made it very clear he wasn’t that type of gal.

Dean wasn’t desperate. He was hard-working. He had pride and dignity as much as anyone else who grew up with enough money to put food on their plate. Unlike any of them, Dean saw school as nothing more than an easy roadblock he had to get over to get a steadier job.

Like his dad said. Get his GED and get out

Too bad the new kid seemed to wanna put a wrench in his plans

With impossibly blue eyes, a gaze of steel, and a voice too deep and monotone for his age, Dean thinks the guy was a prototype for RoboCop.

Castiel Shurley just won’t leave him the fuck alone

-----------

I had this idea for a while

idk what to do about it but ya'll can have it

[zzbubblegumbitchzz]

teach me? // Quinn Hughes

a drunk conversation leaves your best friend wondering.

AN: based off this anon, this is the first of a few ideas i have for this topic so enjoy part one!🫶🏻

WC: 1.1k

CW: smut, quinn talks you through it, fem masturbating, a little bit of possessive quinn.

Quinn knows he should leave, he knows he shouldn't break your trust and listen but his feet won't move. He can hear your giggles, not a sign of discomfort in the conversation. A drastic difference from anytime you've been around the guys when these topics are brought up.

“y/n! Are you telling me you’ve never gotten off?!” There was another laugh, he couldn't tell who. Too focused on your answer. How could no one treat you right? No one’s found pleasure between your thighs? Tragedy for them, he thought to himself.

“Oh my god, no. I have gotten off, just not manually? If that makes sense. Like, no one else. No hands, nothing but the handy dandy vibrator.”

He needed to leave, his mind wandering and he knew all the guys would just chirp at him if he walked back with a hard on.

Everyone started to slowly make their way to bed, calling it a night yourself around 1:30. Your room right across from Quinn’s. You knew he was already locked away, trying your best to stay quiet while you were in and out of the bathroom that shared a wall.

Finally settling in your bed and grabbing your phone, seeing a text from Quinn. Come here, please. Followed with another text, Don't knock, just come in.

“Hi Q.” He was quick to pat his bed, “I need to ask you something, and you can tell me no or to fuck off and I wont ever bring it up again. I just, I need to ask.” You nodded at the man, who's now pacing. “I’m telling on myself and I'm sorry in advance. I was walking by when you and the girls were chatting and somethings been stuck in my head since and it makes me feel so bad because you absolutely don't deserve that kind of shit treatment. Oh god, I'm rambling. Anyways, no one ever made you cum? I can show you, oh my god I need to shut up.”

Your face was flushed, your nerves were setting in. Did Quinn just offer to get me off?

As if he could read my mind, “I don’t have to do it! I can just tell you what to do. Like you get yourself off and I just kind of lead the way.”

“You wanna teach me how to make myself cum?” Your voice was small, he was sure if he wasn’t staring at you he wouldn’t have heard. He nodded.

“Yeah, okay. Teach me, Quinny.”

That dumb conversation led you here. On his bed, pj shorts on the floor, legs spread and Quinn watching you from his desk chair.

You were both giggly about it. The nerves settled, it seemed a little funny, silly even. But he's your best friend. Who cares? All bad thoughts went away the second your legs spread and the man's eyes went a little wide, pupils blown as he watched your hand roam down your body.

“Fuck. You’re pretty.” He whispered to himself.

This wasn't sexy, well it wasn't meant to be, at least to your brain.

“Uh, like this?" you asked, a little embarrassed. "Fuck, this is stupid."

You were against his pillows, unable to fully look at Quinn who was still at his desk, starry eyes watching you intently.

Your hand was down the front of your body, shaky fingers searching for something you shared you'd never been able to achieve on your own.

Quinn adjusted himself, his growing cock pressed against the fabric of his shorts. Forever wishing he put on boxers before you came to his room.

He didn't know the rules when it came to getting yourself off in front of your best friend. So he kept it a little light, laughed breathily and asked, "Are you even touching your clit?”

His words ran through you, a simple question truly but it was bordering on the dirty talk you desperately craved to come from his mouth.

You squirmed, shrugging, but he was watching your hand move, content with seeing your fingers moving through your folds.

"I think so?" you claimed. "I don't know. It's just, it's too wet to feel anything really."

Quinn felt his breath get stuck in his throat.

You finally looked up at his face and watched his cheeks burn, wondering if he'd move closer if you asked him to.

You dont know what fell out of your mouth, your brain is just on autopilot. Quinn’s now at the edge of his bed. Hands holding your ankle, rubbing softly.

"No, I know. fuck, um-" Quinn swallowed, shifting again. "Move in circles, be a bit softer. Fuck, sweetheart. Yeah, you'll feel it."

So you did, two fingers exploring slowly, up and down between your folds, moving a little higher until you reached the spot he was just picking on you for, the pads of your middle and pointer touching a little bump that made your breath hitch.

“There you go, just like that.” He spoke.

You laughed to yourself, feeling stupid, and floaty, searching for that high. You crinkled your nose, as you did slow circles, soft and shy.

"Oh," you mumbled, mouth parting slightly. Still watching Quinn. He pressed his lips together, eyes flickering from your hand to your face.

"Yeah? Does that feel good?"

"Uh huh, feels good."

You thought you heard him let out a groan.

"Will I come?" you asked, still feeling small. "If I keep doing this?"

You were squirming again, moaning softly, chasing your high. He was watching you, open mouthed.

He was too far gone to try and hide it anymore, when he dragged his palm over himself, you moaned, eyes following his movements.

"Yeah, fuck. just keep doing that. Do what feels good, okay?" voice hoarse and wrecked, "you're doing so good, baby."

The praise made your hips lift from the bed a little, fingers moving down a little further, confidence building as Quinn kept rubbing over his cock, "Holy shit, that's fucking hot. You gonna show me how tight you are?" he croaked.

"Uh huh", head tipped back into the pillows. you wanted him to keep talking. You just didn't know how to ask him.

Your foot slipped, bumping into Quinn’s arm and he caught your ankle, wide palm wrapping around as he held you, making you shiver. "Oh, there you go," he murmured. "That's it, baby. Fuck, you're so good. Gonna have to stretch you out more if you ever want me in there, baby. Fuck. Can't believe you're gonna let me watch you cum. Gonna be a good girl and show me how bad you want it? Won't ever need anyone else after this. Just me and you."

[elliespaggetti]

GET IT — CHOI SEUNGHYUN

a/n: i HATE making actual fics because i'm lazy so i started a oneshot collection so i can be lazy online too- i also made this on the bus so its EXTREMELY small.. tomorrow i will feed you more words, but its so late and i dont have my computer with me, but it will happen pookies

(english isnt my first language, and NO its not a masterpiece. tips are appreciated. thank you 🙏)

(will be updated every day, sometimes bi-weekly if i get tired)

warnings: femme reader, angst, no beta read, very short oneshot

word count: 670  

get it masterlist

“What? Are you leaving again? You just went on tour?” Your voice echoed through the room, filled with venom.

“Wait, let me explain-” Seunghyun started, but you quickly interrupted him.

“I have been waiting for you, quite literally for a year. And the minute you come home, the label wants you to leave again?” You spit, and squint your eyes at him. 

“I'm sorry, but they want us to go on tour again. I tried to tell them.” He croaks, becoming more desperate to have your validation. 

The bed creaks as you sit on it, and glare at Seunghyun. From the corner of your eye you see his frown deepened and his eyes seemed to darken for a moment, before he took a step towards the bed frame.

“Well, since they already made the choice to make you go two times in a row, how about you sleep on the couch tonight. You sneer at him, then you lie down on your side, and look at his response.

You see that his face becomes slightly more red, “ Why are you making this out to be my fault?”

“Because you did nothing to stop it!”

“I can't control what the label does! So-” He raises his voice at you, but stops once he realizes what he was doing.

“Well- I'm sorry if I miss you-” You say, but was quickly cut off by a stream of tears.

Seunghyun’s eyes shoot up as he comes to comfort you, crawling over the bed to reach you.

“Wait, wait, I’m sorry!” He winces at your crying form and you sit up so you could receive his hug.

“It's okay. I'm sorry.” You hiccup, unable to stay mad at him for long periods of time, hug him back, and recoil to kiss his forehead.

“I will have a talk with my manager and see if I can get off this tour. If I can't, I will call you every hour, okay Jagi?” He whispers in your ear, emitting a giggle out of you, as you hug him tighter. 

“Thank you” You sniff, and climb on his lap, before closing your eyes and leaning on him.

Seunghyun sighs, and carries you so you are both lying down, him spooning you.

“Would you like to watch a movie?” He offers.

“No, let's just sleep.”  You decline, stuffing your face in his chest.

“It's 3pm, Jagi” He remarks, and you can hear the smirk on his face.

“I will keep you here until the sun goes down, and then up, and down, and up.. Do you get it now?” You joke, and you are sure that he can feel your mouth moving on his chest with every word you speak.

To prove your point, you wrap one leg around his leg, and tighten your leg so his cant move.

You feel his laughter from his chest, and notice how deep his voice actually is.

“Well, I guess we will be stuck here till the end of time, right? Just how I like it..” He smirks, and pulls you closer and closes his eyes.

From this angle you can see the bottom of his chin, and as if he can feel your eyes on him, and opens them and smile at you. You take the time to notice how goofy his smile looks, and how innocent he looks from this angle. You can feel a smile forming on your face, but the moment is quickly ruined when he moves his face so he has a double chin.

You snort and pull your head back to laugh.

“You look like a blobfish!” You howl, and look back at him to see he has made another silly face, and as you had just calmed down, exploded into laughter again.

“You're so funny, baby” You whisper, with a small smile on your face. “I love you.”

“I love you, too” Seunghyun answers, and slips a blanket onto the both of you, as you slowly fall asleep, his scent taking over your senses.

[dolcekissy]

i love your work, and I was hoping / wanted to request something based off a song, i dont kno if you have heard it, but i follow someone, jus heard it and it reminded me so so so much of Rafe and having a tumultuous and borderline abusive relationship. it’s by the singer ashanti called rain on me the music video and song remind me of rafe to a T. would yoube comfortable writing a Drabble or One Shot based or similar to it? if not, it’s okay, i know DV is serious and not everyone would want to write about it. thank you!

yes i've heard of the song and watched the video, i can definitely see what you're saying. hope you enjoy!

disclaimer // 18+ content. this story includes unprotected sex, p in v, domestic violence, mentions of toxic relationships, mentions of having a miscarriage. please read at your own risk.

─────────────────────────

for the past four years it's been the same with rafe. arguing, hitting, fucking, loving, repeat. you met rafe six years ago, immediately feeling drawn to him and his voice, the way he spoke with confidence but also nervousness, the eye contact he tried to keep with you, the way he wasn't touchy ─ very respectful of you and your boundaries. you remember the interaction like it was yesterday, the way your cheeks flushed a light shade of pink when he joked with you ─ meeting when you were both 16 at an event his father put together for Cameron Development.

the whole night you two were inseparable, laughing and talking, sneaking alcoholic drinks when no one was looking, stealing a cigarette from behind a drunk man's ear after he dared you to ─ giggling and running up to the roof of the building to smoke it together, coughing and choking while he laughed at you and patted your back. he kissed you when you were staring up at the sky claiming the cigarette gave you a buzz, your head was dizzy from both the cigarette and his lips ─ his lips were so soft.

you and rafe couldn't be apart. always with each other, at each others houses meeting family, sneaking out of your house just to see him even though you guys hung out all day, walking to the beach just to kiss, talk, laugh, staying until the sun kissed the water ─ hurriedly running back once your phone read 7 am. he was in love and so were you, you were his other half, his missing rib. he promised to marry you as soon as you both turned 18, get you a house in tannyhill, give you a baby right after. it was unrealistic but 16 year old you couldn't help but have hearts in her eyes.

he was your first everything. your first time, your first kiss, the first person you loved. the night he took your virginity you both were shaking, sweating, nervous ─ you felt so awkward, so stiff as you both tried to figure it out. he talked you through the pain, kissing you sweetly as he whispered apologies, shakily asking if you're okay or if he should stop, telling you how much he loves you ─ kissing the tears of pain that rolled down your face, moving the hair that stuck to your forehead.

obviously it wasn't the best sex, young and inexperienced, painful and scary, foreign and different but it was with him. with rafe. the person that made life worth living. the next two years were heaven on earth, the memories you created with him were sacred, every minute you spent with him giving you understanding of your purpose here on earth ─ marry him, give him as many babies as he wants, keep the house clean, be a good wife.

it was good, he was good, always knew how to kiss it better so you didn't question it when he slapped you after a disagreement ─ quickly apologizing and kissing your cheek over and over again as you blinked, brushing it off with a shrug and a smile, "it was an accident, right?" ─ fingers tugging on his hair as he ate you out that night to show you how sorry he was, later on stuffing you full of his cock so you understand how sorry he was.

that's when the cycle began, arguing, hitting, fucking, loving, repeat. you hate yourself for not running when you were 18 and he slapped you for the first time, hate him for manipulating you into believing him, hate yourself for running down to the courthouse and getting married anyway ─ the longer you stayed with him, the worse it got. you'd argue about something stupid, he'd hit you, apologize, fuck you, then stay between your thighs until you begged him to stop.

you hate yourself for still loving him after it all ─ allowing him to make you feel like this, losing weight rapidly, your hair falling out in clumps, barely eating and drinking, depending on his mood to determine the kind of day you have ─ constantly terrified it'll get bad again, flinching every time the front door opens, greeting him with a weary smile, voice soft just in case he's in a bad mood today ─ just in case his attitude is sour enough to beat you and leave you for a few days, just to come home four days later smelling like another woman and fuck you slowly, "make love to ya.", "put a baby in ya." just so you understand how much he loves you, even if he "slaps you up." a couple of times.

it was suffocating, debilitating, humiliating but you loved him. no one would understand, no one would understand how much you miss the old him ─ they wouldn't understand that you stay with him just in case the old him might come back to you, love you as deeply as he loved you before. so yes, you'll hide the bruises and the cuts on your face and body. yes, you'll wear sunglasses to hide the black eyes. yes, you'll lie to the nurses when they ask why there's a gash on your wrist. yes, you will fucking lie and say that you lost your fucking baby due to complications and not him beating you.

yes, you'll show up no matter what to the Cameron Development events and show off the rock on your finger, flash a bright smile, place your arm over his chest while you look up at him with the same eyes he fell in love with. the same eyes that are freshly healed after his last beating.

the same eyes that will be black and blue again tonight because you were too close to a man over by the bar.

─────────────────────────

[kurumeuruki]

Thinking about Julie in the philosophy au...

Julie knew Ben and Gwen since high-school but then she went away across the world for her tennis tournaments and only came back to Bellwood cuz she got a game there. She knew Ben and Gwen were still around since she messaged Gwen she's coming back, but during this time, she didn't know Ben's a Celestialsapien and Albedo is currently filling in for him.

So Julie encountered Albedo thinking he was Ben when he happened to pass by the tennis courtyard she was practicing in. She tried making conversation about what happened in the year she was gone but Albedo kept dismissing her cuz he was busy trying to reach an S.O.S signal he was receiving and similar events that happened in Pier Pressure happened here, only that it wasn't a date and it only got even more confusing for Julie since it was her first time seeing aliens (cuz she was abroad) and holy shit, Ben transformed with a book??

So wild theories flew in her head like "oh no, Ben finally found the witchcraft books" "Magic's real???" "Is Ben a wizard now?" "He didn't get possessed did he?" until Gwen and Albedo explained about his situation and wow, space wizards.

Been thinking she appeared like... a month after Albedo's stay and during that time, Albedo and Gwen had a fight prior to her arrival about Gwen being a bit too 'over-protective' and not seeing him as Albedo instead of Ben. So Julie, who just came back to see how different everything is, saw him as a separate person from Ben and does give him a different pov of what the Philo Trio were like, which Albedo does appreciate despite her fascination with calling his science "magic".

With Gwen being busy in studies and Kevin being busy with his jobs, Albedo & Julie are gonna be great friends with how much free time they have.

I'd like to imagine Julie showing Albedo around Bellwood, showing him the beauty of humanity while also revisiting old places she used to go to and seeing how much they changed. Probably also gonna have him try out other foods other than having his diet consist of only chicken nuggets.

They do compete in tennis for fun and they ended up being really competitive during it.

Y'know... once Albedo tells her that he's hunting for parts to get his galvan form back, she'd probably help him, while facing some trouble in the way. Did it work? Dunno, probably not since he's still stuck in human form even after Ben de-transformed. Oh well, guess he's gonna make the most of his human life.

so anyways, to end my yap session, I present to you my shitposts

[downbadumu]

one more hit

༄𓏸ଳ˚࿔⋆ content summary: explicit/ graphic descriptions of sex, porn without plot, caleb x fem!reader, unrealistic depictions of sex, hard and rough sex, one (1) mention of spit, inappropriate use of evol, dildo use (to fuck reader’s mouth and a gag), light dom/sub undertones, reader is a pain slut, spanking, squirting, vaginal fingering, beginning stages of vaginal fisting, under-negotiated kinks (the rough sex, spanking, and fisting), overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight humiliation kink?, idk I think y’all might have a size kink too, reader is also a minx (too horny for her own good), not beta read because i have work tomorrow, nickname used: baby, princess

༄𓏸ଳ˚࿔⋆ word count: 2612

༄𓏸ଳ˚࿔⋆ shanna’s notes: i just think that getting fisted by caleb would fix me

Your jaw was sore, spit gathering and soaking the bedsheet beneath you. You’d try to say something or even garble a complaint if it weren’t for the fact that you’re scared you might choke and puke on the fucking dildo (suspiciously familiar and perfectly snug) in your mouth. It was so deep and perfect down your throat; you feel like you’re feeling it in your stomach. Your mind was running; oh, if you knew being a brat and running your mouth was going to make Caleb glare at you sharply then throw you over his shoulder then you would’ve done it much sooner.

Sure, being cute and obedient had its perks. You adore the way how feral Caleb gets when you’re sweet and how he can’t help but manhandle you like a fuck doll. But this, silent and angry Caleb, was so much too. You were still being a smart ass when he grabbed you, challenging him and calling him names you knew would rile him the fuck up; which was what lead him to fuck your mouth with a clear dildo, he seemingly pulled out of nowhere, for nearly thirty minutes.

Caleb in all his pristine uniformed glory had torn your clothes off of you, leaving you in nothing but your flimsy panties and forced your pussy on his boot, every time you sneakily tried to grind your achy clit on it, he’d roughly shoved the dildo and his boot into you. It made you damn near lose your mind; you’ve always known you were pain slut, but the harsh glint in his eyes when he realised too made you grind even harder against his boot so he’d jam it further up your pussy.

Caleb then dragged you by the hair so you’d stand. He remained dead silent and stoic, face unreadable, but you could tell how insanely horny his was just by look in his eyes. You managed a wry smirk, a challenge, there was no way he’d think he could just mouth fuck the attitude out of you with a dildo (that you’re sure after taking it, that he customed modelled to be the exact replica of his cock). With all the brattiness you could still muster, you spit on him.

He didn’t say anything nor does he bother to wipe your spit that landed on his neck and collar of his uniform away, he just stuffed the dildo back into your throat and threw you onto his lap as he sat on the bed. A familiar unnatural hum in the air crackled in your ear, you thought you’d be pinned onto the bed but Caleb had a better idea. You gagged. Not enough to hurt, just enough to choke a little. He had quite literally stuck the fucking dildo in your mouth.

The anticipation was killing you, seriously. You were so fucking horny; you might actually kill yourself if you didn’t get to come soon. In this position, the upper half of your body behind him and on the bed, pussy positioned nicely on his knees, your own almost touching the floor; you prayed that he was going to absolutely spank the soul out of you. You tried to turn back and glare at Caleb, but his grip was tight on your waist. You were only successful at squirming a little before he applied extra strength on you to force you to be still, and you can’t lie, not even to yourself that that didn’t make you wetter than you already were. You swore to yourself, one of these days you were going to find a way to get him to fuck you standing up, or against the wall, or even better against his floor to ceiling window. God, fuck, if he didn’t do anything in the next minute you were going to find a way to suffocate yourself.

You forced yourself to relax so Caleb’s grip would too, then once it did, you’d wiggle your ass temptingly to at least get one (hopefully hard) smack in there. Enough to sting when you sit, you pleaded to Caleb’s mind hoping he’d somehow hear your telepathically. But Caleb, oh sweet loving Caleb, has always been the one to spoil and indulge your rotten desires. While you were busy plotting, the millisecond you let your guard down to relax he landed a hard hit on the top of your ass. You jolted and almost screamed, with pleasure and joy, because holy fucking shit that was glorious. Your body was tense again, you didn’t expect him to actually spank you, you honestly didn’t think he’d be capable. But that warm sting on your ass was real, it was real and fuck maybe you’re more of a pain slut than you thought.

You tried to relax again, it was the only way you could relay to Caleb now that this was ok, because if you were good then he’d know for sure. So, you steadied yourself by taking a deep breath and laid pliantly, back arching ever so slightly. You almost didn’t catch Caleb’s soft hum because it was quickly overpowered by the loud smacks of his hands on your ass; you counted four hard spanks in swift succession. Gag reflex be damned, you’re relaxed and accustomed to it by now, you can’t help the moan that was muffled by the thick stupid fucking dildo in your mouth, your praises and pleas nothing but garbled nonsense.

Caleb forced you to relax this time, his hand hot and firm on where your ass was throbbing. You took another deep breath, briefly you wondered if you’d be lucky enough to get your pussy and clit spanked too but then another idea popped up in your head. You moved discreetly, as if you were trying to get more comfortable, you focused on making your movements to be docile so you (or any part of you) could feel how hard Caleb was in his stupidly hot uniform pants.

He knew you too well, however, and readjusted you. “What’s gotten into you, huh? It’s like you want your punishment to last longer.”

His voice was rough, it sent a shiver down your spine. You think you drooled at the sound of his voice but you’re too wound up to know anymore. “Please,” you tried to tell him, half egging him on but mostly it was to beg him to do something, anything.

Another spank landed on you, this one on your upper thigh. Fuck, that was good, it was like Caleb doesn’t want you to be sitting after either. Before you had time to breathe or enjoy the sting, Caleb smacked your ass and thigh so hard and rapidly your lost count. It might’ve been six, might’ve been twelve, your mind starting to fill with clouds as he rubbed more redness onto use. You felt him shamelessly fondle you, or maybe he was giving you massages, trying to condition you to like his spanks more, maybe? Who cares, you were having the time of your life.

Smack, smack, smack. When his hand left the hot skin of your ass on that last hit, your body lifts itself to follow, you were begging for more. Your hands were going numb from laying your upper half on it, you were so delirious from pleasure you weren’t sure how long you’ve been over Caleb’s lap anymore.

He was gently spreading your legs apart as he massaged you. “I’m not sure if I can even call it a punishment anymore, not with how fucking soaked you are.”

You moaned softly, acknowledging him or pleading for more. Just a bit more and you’ll-

Smack!

Caleb’s aim was precise. Right on the entrance of your trembling hole. It felt different. Like his strength was controlled and calculated perfectly. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, a choked scream clawed its way out your mouth, and you squirt all over the floor.

You must’ve blacked out for a second or two because your next coherent thought or understanding was Caleb’s warm hand rubbing up and down your ass and thighs. He was cooing something, tone gentle but strained. You tried to swallow around the dildo, too accustomed to the feel of it, only to realise that it had been taken out of your mouth already. A tiny wave of disappoint washes through you, but it’s alright, it’s nice to be able to close your mouth.

“Baby,” you heard Caleb. You still chose to lay still, enjoying what’s left of your orgasm. Your head was pleasantly cloudy, nothing but the warm buzz of post orgasmic bliss. You think Caleb must’ve been praising you and now probably wants to know if you’re ok. Of course you were. You’ve just had the best orgasm of your life week!

You croaked something after a bit, voice so hoarse you don’t recognise it. You weren’t tired enough to sleep just yet, but if you continued to ignore Caleb then he’d likely put you into a more comfortable position before he went to run a bath for you. You knew he’d understand, though, he always knew you better than yourself anyways. Caleb chuckled, rubbing your lower half with so much gentleness that you already forgot that he was capable of. Knowing how horny you were you probably just begged him for more. You feel Caleb shift, only slightly so he could press a kiss on the top of your ass. At this point, though, you could barely even feel it anymore. You sighed in pleasure.

“You didn’t think you’d get away with your punishment that easy, did you?” You thought you heard him say or something on that line.

Because you brain short circuited when he bit harshly into your flesh. Your body jolted and jerked, trying to get away but Caleb’s hold on you was firm. “Caleb!”

When he had his fill he gives you a chaste peck, and not a second longer for you to breathe. As soon as his lips left your too warm skin, a heavy spank landed on your pussy. The moan you let out was pornographic even to your ears, some spanking shouldn’t be making you this wet, you thought. But it did, and you couldn’t decide to be ashamed or hornier that you just came from getting spanked.

“Did it feel that good?” Caleb asked, as if having read your mind. “From getting you slutty ass spanked?”

Smack!

God, even just the sound of your skin being slapped was doing things to you. “Uh-huh,” you forced out, albeit sounding way dreamier than you expected.

“Wanna talk about how you wet my pants and the floor when I spanked your cute cunt?” Caleb cooed.

If you were just an ounce more sober you’d have cursed at him and threatened to was his filthy mouth with your peach scented shampoo, but your thoughts were flooded with Caleb’s husky voice, his smell on his bed, his rough uniform, how hard the muscles of his thigh were, his almost suffocating grip on you, Caleb’s sweet touches after giving you some amounts of spanks in too quick succession, the length and size of his hands and how you could feel it on both of your tender ass cheeks, how he Caleb Caleb Caleb Caleb Caleb.

Caleb slapped where the end of your ass meets the beginning of your thigh. Fuck. You think you might’ve come again when he firmly slides three of his gloved fingers into your weeping cunt. Had he been wearing gloves this entire time? His movements were slow and methodical like he has every nook and cranny of your pussy memorised, like his fingers belonged in there; rubbing and prodding, moving hard enough that you feel him but not enough for you to derive any real pleasure. Caleb, Caleb!

“Baby, can you feel that? We didn’t have to start with two fingers with how much slicking,” he laughed darkly.

You see stars in the back of your eyes when he growled, you were just so impossibly tight and wet around his fingers. It’s not your fault! You just didn’t know if this was good or if it’d be better if the damn glove was off, but God, fuck, did the leather felt fun in your cunt. Caleb, Caleb, Caleb finger fucked your pussy in earnest, as if he wanted you to hear just how much noise you were making. A shock like electricity runs through you when you felt yourself getting tighter when Caleb, Caleb slipped another finger into you; a depraved sob rips through you and you grip onto his sheets like it was the only thing keeping you conscious.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Caleb asked, tone concerned. “You’ve been calling me over and over, what do you need, hm?”

Oh, oh, oh, oh, fuck! Caleb started to lightly thrust into you, now you could really feel all four of his fingers. You thrash in his grip, the sensation was so familiar but so foreign, you should be scared but the thought of his huge hand being completely inside you forced another orgasm out of you. Your legs shook as the pleasure wracks through you.

“Is your princess cunny feeling that good, baby? You sound so pretty, like you’re having so much fun.”

“Caleb, please, please, Caleb, please!” You begged but you don’t even know for what.

Caleb doesn’t let you ride out your orgasm, he started to thrust his hand in a more rhythmic pace, one that drove you crazy if you were on his cock. “Stay still, ‘kay?” He muttered, and the hum of gravity shifting around you buzzed quietly in the back of your mind.

A pressure weighed you down, your lack of ability to move sent you into deeper into your orgasmic spiral. With other arm now free, Caleb lets you feel its journey to down from your waist to your pussy. You screamed as he grinded his thumb into your clit, a watery jumble of pleas or his name. Your body was simultaneously trying to get away and slog his hands further into you.

Caleb didn’t need any other cue, he watched in wicked fascination as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, only far enough to be able to tuck his thumb into his palm. You whined pathetically but it shoots straight into his cock. He hushed you, rubbing your clit the way you liked while he slid his hands back into your weeping cunt. Caleb wasn’t fazed at all when your slick gushed out harder than it did before. Now, this, was the best orgasm of your week.

He entertained the idea in his head to slowly curl his fingers and tucking them into a fist to make it wider, but another time, it’s something you two should talk about, anyway. Preferably while he crowds you against something, forcing you to spill and recount right now. The humiliation on your face contrasting the lust swimming in your eyes.

Caleb released the gravity on you and you all but collapse further into the bed. You probably were too drunk on your pleasure to realise how much you’ve tensed up. “Caleb,” you said weakly, though it didn’t sound coherent. He gently lifts you off his sticky leg so that you were could lay more comfortably.

He took of his glove and sat back down near you to press a loving kiss into your hair. “You did so good, baby.”

You turn your head to him, eyes watery and full of hearts. “More,” you pleaded.

You almost miss the feral grin that spreads across Caleb’s lip when you flicked your eyes down to eye his still hard cock.