#and reminding me that it could end up with HR

[oceaneyesinla]

my weekly check in with my manager made me feel like deep fried assholes

BUT i am home in my own bed so i can sulk about it for the rest of the day under my big duvet and i can do things to cheer myself up ✌🏻

[yanderedrabbles]

A Very Yandere Valentine

In your desperation to make a man fall in love with you, you try a love spell. The results are...debatable.

February was your least favourite month for a reason. You were broke from Christmas, still single, and your resolution to go to the gym every week was coming along horribly. It was blistering cold, but without the holiday cheer and shopping sales to make the weather bearable.

And if all that wasn't enough, you were stuck seeing happy couples everywhere you looked. The Valentine themed ads were everywhere - you couldn't even watch YouTube without some company reminding you exactly how lonely you were.

But things were going to be different this year.

This year, you finally had a crush on someone. You finally had some chemistry to keep you from feeling like the most unlovable single in existence. This year, you were going to have your romantic, picture perfect Valentine’s Day.

Just one little issue. Your Valentine had a girlfriend.

Who he loved. Or at least claimed to. You were skeptical. Would a man in love follow you like a puppy? Would he open doors for you and bring you coffee every morning?

If he did that for everyone in the office, maybe you wouldn't be kneeling in a circle of candles at midnight. But no. He went out of his way everyday just for you. He wasn't a very talkative person, but when he followed you into the break room, you'd end up yapping for much longer than your HR would approve of.

He was different with you. You were special to him, you knew it in your heart.

You didn't realise he had a girlfriend until one of your other coworkers told you. And oh boy, wasn't that a fun revelation. At first you were hurt. Why was he leading you on if he had a partner? Were you reading too much into this whole situation? What if he was just being nice to you and you totally misinterpreted it?

You tried to put distance between you and him. Tried to respect that someone else had a claim to him, even if he might have been flirting with you.

It didn't work.

He would look at you with those liquid brown eyes and you'd feel your resolve and your morals just melting.

As you lit the last few candles for the ritual, you reminded yourself that at least you tried to be the better person. If this was a moral failing, it wasn't one that you gave into easily.

And maybe this was for the best. If he was comfortable enough to flirt with you, didn't that mean he wasn't happy in his relationship? If your silly little spell worked, it might give him the courage to finally break things off. It would be kinder to both him and his partner.

"It's fine if I'm doing it for love," you told yourself.

You lit the final candle and sat back on your heels. There was a shallow bowl in front of you, filled with milky white water. It certainly looked mystical with the candlight flickering across the surface. Now if it would just be mystical...

You picked up the first of your twelve roses - one for each month of the year. You plucked off the petals one by one and dropped them into the water. Like a more wiccan version of he-loves-me he-loves-me-not. With each petal, you tried to picture what you wanted from the relationship. Kindness. Loyalty. Consideration. Love.

It was easy to do. Your man was an easy man to love. You could already picture him in your home - making late morning pancakes in nothing but his sweats, sprawled on your couch reading one of your beat up paperbacks, in your bed. He was meant be yours, you could feel it. Why else-

"Ow! Shit, that hurt!" You looked down at your finger and the rose thorn embedded deep in your skin. Blood was already welling up around it.

"Goddamit. Why now?"

A single drop rolled off your finger and plinked into the bowl. It sunk past the rose petals and turned a small part of the water a sickly pinkish colour.

You carefully pulled the thorn out and stuck your finger in your mouth. It must have went in far deeper than you thought, because your whole finger throbbed. You looked down at the last rose left unplucked. So close to finishing...

You sighed and stood up, stepping carefully out of the circle. You were too worried about the chance of infection to finish your ritual. And besides, whatever daydreams you had weren't going to come back while you were still dripping blood all over the place.

In the bowl, the rose petals drifted until they covered the entire surface. When you emptied the bowl, you were too tired to wonder if the blood poisoned your spell. To tired to notice the petals curling up and wilting long before their time.

You woke up with a wine hangover and a throbbing pain all through your finger. Usually you'd power through it and go to work, but you didn't want to see your crush. Didn't want to be reminded that you were once again alone on Valentine's.

You called in sick to work, took some antibiotics for your finger and curled up under your duvet. As if the universe was sympathising with your mood, the low grey clouds that hung around all week finally burst. Cold February rain drummed on your windows while you picked out your favourite comfort movie.

Yet another romantic Valentine's all on your own. Lucky you.

You were just about drifting off when the knocking started. Loud and impatient at your front door, aggressive enough that you jerked out of bed with a yelp.

"Coming!"

You didn't have any parcels being delivered today, did you? And you certainly weren't expecting guests. Not in the middle of the week, and certainly not when it was so miserable outside.

You opened the door half expecting the person to be long gone. They couldn't have been here for you.

Your co-worker was standing on your threshold, still in his suit with his tie damp and askew.

"Y/n! Thank God, I was so worried about you."

You could only blink at him. How the hell did he know your address? You certainly never mentioned it. And what was he doing here in the middle of the work day?

"Aren't you going to let me in?"

You jumped. "Shit, sorry. Please come in."

You stood aside, self consciously trying to smooth down your hair. He was carrying a packet of some kind. He set it down on your kitchen table before shrugging out of his suit jacket and tossing it across the back of your chair. He was so oddly at ease in your apartment, like a man coming home after a long day rather than a guest in a new place.

You followed him, still feeling like this whole interaction was a fever dream. Maybe the rose thorn from last night really was poisonous and you were somehow hallucinating your office crush unpacking a whole slew of takeout onto your kitchen counter.

"Um..." You decided to abandon any ideas of tact. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't come into work today. Didn't even call me." He looked up at you. "I was worried about you."

"Oh." Despite the strangeness of this whole encounter, butterflies were fluttering in your belly. "You noticed I wasn't there?"

He shrugged and went back to arranging the stuff he brought. "I always notice you."

There were about half a dozen takeout containers, all from your favourite places. He continued, "I figured the weather must be getting to you, so I decided to check on you. Really y/n, you've got to tell me if you're not going to be around. I was frantic when you didn't show up."

It was so like him to turn a nice gesture into a lecture. So strict all the time, so proper. You couldn't help but smile - it was all part of what made you like him so much. All prickly on the outside, all care within.

He pulled out a chair and nodded at you to sit. His hair was slightly damp from the rain and falling loose from its carefully gelled back style. This was the most out of sorts you'd ever seen him. And all of it over you? Come on, how was a girl just supposed to ignore that?

He pushed your chair in behind you and leaned forward to pull a container closer to you, his arm right next to your ear and his cologne thick in your nose. Your heart leapt. He did the same thing at work all the time, one hand right by your shoulder as he pointed out your mistakes on the monitor. Maybe you were delusional, but would a guy who treasured his personal space - who stepped back whenever anyone else was within half a foot of him - really get so close to you if he didn't like you?

"Here, eat up. I got them to make it special." He was so close that his voice felt like a rumble more than anything else. You could almost feel it in your bones.

"Aren't you going to join me?" you asked.

"Nope. It's all yours."

He stayed behind you while you ate, his forearms crossed on the backrest. You were acutely aware of him watching you.

"What are you doing for Valentine's tonight?"

Were you sleep deprived or was there a hard edge to his voice when he asked you that?

"I might have a date later," you lied.

You didn't see it, but his grip on your chair tightened.

"Really? With who?"

"Just some friend from the gym."

You cringed internally. That was such a bad lie. You didn't even know anyone at the gym. You tried to change the topic.

"You? I'm sure you've got something planned with your girlfriend."

He was quiet for a moment, and then, "What girlfriend?"

Huh? You turned in your chair to look up at him. His expression was entirely serious.

"Your girlfriend? I asked Jenny from marketing and she said you were dating someone. That it was serious."

He raised a brow. "You were asking about my dating life?"

Crap. Too late to back down now.

"Mm-hmm. I was just curious. And you never really mentioned anything, so..."

"So you asked Jenny from marketing?"

Could the ground just do you a favour and swallow you now? That would be much lessless painful than admitting to your office crush that you were kind of, sort of stalking him.

"...yes? Look, I know it wasn't my place. And that I was totally invading your privacy. I'm really sorry. I can't imagine how uncomfortable I'm making you and honestly -"

"Y/n," he cut you off, "I don't have a girlfriend."

Huh?!

"But Jenny said -"

"Jenny is annoying and flirtatious. I just said that so she'd leave me alone."

"So I didn't have to do the love spell?"

You smacked a hand over your mouth. Too late. He tilted his head, smiling.

"The what?"

You turned away from him, your face on fire. Stupid love spell. Stupid brain. Stupid mouth that doesn't know when to shut up.

"Nothing. I didn't say anything. You sure you don't want some of this soup? It's great. Really robust flavour."

He leaned down and grabbed your hand before you could pick up your spoon. His face was right next to yours but you'd rather swallow a cactus than face him after what you just admitted.

"Let me get this straight," he said, sounding unfairly amused. "You asked Jenny if I was dating someone. She said yes, and your solution to that problem - instead of just, y'know, asking me about it - was to do a love spell?"

You squeezed your eyes shut.

Lord in heaven, please have mercy and send a meteor right at my apartment. Just a little one, doesn't even have to be bigger than a car.

"I was really drunk, okay? And I just... I just didn't want to be alone on Valentine's. It's the same every year, and it sucks. I'm sorry. It was dumb and stupid and naive."

"Definitely all those things, yes."

You flinched. He ignored you and continued.

"Not to mention selfish, dangerous and honestly a little bit toxic."

"Yeah, I get it." And to think you called the lonely Valentine's the worst ones. You sighed, looked down at your lap. This day couldn't possibly get worse.

"Y/n."

He didn't wait for you to answer. He just kissed you. One hand pulling your jaw up towards him, the other still resting on the back of your chair and tangling itself in your hair.

You gasped, too shocked to either pull away or kiss him back. Was this really happening?

Slowly, you brought your hand up and ran it through his hair. And oh, he practically purred.

"Silly thing. Never needed a love spell to make me like you."

He pulled you to your feet, hands coming to your waist and thumbs tracing over your ribs. You felt electric, every little movement making you buzz.

"Been wanting to do this since the first day I saw you." Another kiss, deeper, longer, somehow even hungrier. "How couldn't you notice?"

You leaned against his chest, lightheaded. "I thought you were being nice."

He laughed and you could feel it rumbling through his chest. He dropped one hand to your mid thigh, squeezed.

"I'm never nice. If you knew all the things I was thinking whenever we were next to each other, you'd run for the hills."

You met his eyes, feeling brave. "What sort of things?"

He smiled, but his eyes were dark. For a second, it scared you.

"I could show you."

Was he offering what you thought he was? You could have been modest, could have simpered and pulled away and played the blushing coquette. But you'd be a liar if you said you didn't want this, that you hadn't wanted to be in this exact scenario for weeks.

"Please," you said, looping your arms around his neck. "Show me."

He picked you up by your thighs and sat you down on the counter, your legs around his waist. His palms came to rest on your hips, heat bleeding through the thin cotton of your pyjama pants.

"This." He kissed your neck.

"And this." He ran his hand down your thigh, his thumb just barely brushing the edge of your panties.

"And very much this." He cradled your face in his hands and kissed you, tongue darting past your teeth and filling your mouth with the taste of him.

He was still slightly chilly from being outside, but you were boiling up and the contrast was a relief. You kissed him back, not quite as bold but just as wanting.

Did your drunken love spell actually work? Or were you just the luckiest girl in the city?

He loosened his tie. "I've got all day. How about I give you the best Valentine's day you've ever had?"

"Where do you want to start?"

He smirked, toying with the hem of your shirt.

"Oh, I think you know exactly where I want to start."

You takeout grew cold on the counter and the rain stopped and the sun dipped below the skyline before he was done with you.

You were still panting underneath him, your hands tied to the headboard with his tie when he finally decided he was satisfied.

"Wow... I didn't realise you had it in you," you breathed.

He wiped his mouth on his forearm, a glistening trail of spit and spunk.

"Oh yeah? Thought I was too tight buttoned to have fun?"

It was silly to be embarrassed after all the things he'd heard you say, but still...

"I honestly thought you'd be a lot more vanilla."

He laughed and crawled up your body, until his hands were on either side of your head. He leaned down and pecked your nose.

"And now?"

"And now I'm wondering what I did to get so damn lucky. My karma must be amazing."

He undid your hands, deft fingers moving through a complicated set of knots and pulls. You smiled. Oh, he was definitely a boy scout at some point.

"You should eat something. You've lost a lot of...fluids."

That made you giggle.

"And whose fault is that?"

There were slight marks on your wrists and he careful rubbed them.

"Mine. Terribly sorry about it beautiful." He didn't sound sorry in the slightest.

You were wobbly when you stood up, and it was only his arm around your waist that kept you from falling straight back into bed.

"I'm staying over tonight, by the way."

It was so like him to just decide he was invited. Still, you were absolutely not complaining. It was exactly what you wanted too. Strange, how he almost always seemed to know exactly what you wanted.

You fell asleep tucked against his side, sore and aching in the best possible way. In the rational part of your mind, you assumed that your love spell was just a silly lapse in judgement brought on by too much wine and far too many rom-coms. But if you could see the way he watched you when you slept, you might have started to question that assumption.

He brushed your hair away from your forehead, half frowning.

"Silly thing. I've been in love with you for so long."

He glanced at the alarm clock on your bedside table. Hopefully you wouldn't notice it, but he'd slipped a tiny camera behind the clock face. Same with your TV, bathroom mirror and the top of your fridge. There were at least half a dozen cameras hidden throughout your apartment.

Having you tied to the bed and distracted helped. You didn't notice him slipping off for just a bit longer than getting a glass of water or using the bathroom would warrant.

Unethical, yes. A total invasion of privacy. And if you ever found them, you'd be totally justified in getting a restraining order. But still...

"It's fine if I'm doing it for love," he told himself.

[hotchnerwrites]

“Enemies to lovers, but only one of them thinks they're enemies. The other has been entirely obsessed since the beginning.” Saw this concept on here and got me thinking—reader works at the bau and thinks hotch hates her, but in reality it’s the opposite and she’s misreading his signals?

Mixed Signals

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x BAU!reader

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: SFW, idiots in love, good ending, swear words

A/N: Hi hi hi hi!!! sorry for the long wait!!! finally have some time on hand from exams and im getting all reqs done!!! chose to go down a dry humour/funny route for this. honestly reminded me of my olive branch fic, except it's reversed ahahah. anyway, thank you so much for your patience. i hope you enjoy this!!!! so much love, mwah mwah mwah <3

My requests are open. Send me stuff! Please read the rules before asking, and be advised there is a slight wait time right now. But I will post for sure. :)

ps- i kind of maybe forgot to proofread so let's pretend any errors don't exist 😬 

At the end of the day, it was just work.

You all were colleagues— professionals selected for their skills, all crammed together into one bullpen and expected to play nice. That didn’t mean you had to be friends. People were allowed to dislike each other if they wanted. It happened. Tensions flared, personalities clashed, and someone always ate the last yoghurt tub.

And if Aaron Hotchner happened to hate you in particular, well, that was his right. It was just part of the job. And you were aware of it. Oh, so aware. Acute, constantly and embarrassingly aware.

There was no question about it: he hated you. Not disliked. Not tolerated with professional indifference. No— this was loathing. Cold, calculated, deep-in-his-bones hatred. 

You felt it in your blood every time Hotch walked into the bullpen and skipped over you when saying good morning. It radiated from his office like a laser death ray whenever you laughed a bit too loud. 

It wasn’t paranoia. You’d done the math.

Morgan? A nod of approval. Prentiss? Professional respect. Reid? Indulgent patience. Rossi? Best friends. You? Fuck all.

You were sick of the stone-faced silence. And that look he did. That little glance from the corner of his eye, paired with a crease between his brows. Like your presence caused him physical pain. You’d once made a joke in the SUV, and he sighed. Not laughed. Sighed. It was actually quite impressive, how consistent he was about it. 

You’d retaliated by calling Hotch all kinds of names. Mentally, of course. It was childish and dramatic, you know. But no more dramatic than the way he had once corrected your paperwork with a red pen, and hadn’t even told you— just left it on your desk like a cursed object. 

You tried not to take it personally. For a while, it worked. But then he started doing this thing— this new thing— where he’d enter a room, and leave as soon as you walked in. It had only happened twice, but it had been the same excuse both times: that superiors called him away. Suspicious.

So you did what any well-adjusted and emotionally mature adult would do. You went straight to Garcia’s office and told her that your boss hated you and you were going to get fired because he could smell your weakness. She’d gasped, handed you a bejewelled stress ball, and offered to hack into some database on your behalf (you declined, but it was nice to feel loved for a change).

Still, you couldn’t shake it. It seemed like he couldn’t be in your orbit for more than three and a half minutes without the need to file an HR report.

So when the moment came, you weren’t prepared.

●・○・●・○・●・

You were in the briefing room, finishing up your notes after everyone else had gone. The case had closed. People were smiling. Even Hotch had smiled at someone. (Not you. Obviously. But still.)

You were alone now, sorting through crime scene photos, muttering under your breath about timelines, when his voice startled you.

“You missed lunch.”

You jumped. Clutched a photo like a weapon. “Hotch—you can’t just sneak up on people like that.”

He looked vaguely alarmed. “I knocked.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“I did,” he insisted, like someone trying to explain doorbells to a raccoon.

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you want?”

He paused. Then, slowly, he stepped forward and—without ceremony—placed a sandwich in front of you. Neatly wrapped. Labelled with your name. From your favourite place.

You blinked. “…What is this?”

“You didn’t eat.” A beat. “It’s been a while since the brief ended.”

“I— I was going to—”

“I’ve noticed.”

You stare at the sandwich like it’s a bomb. Then at him.

“You got me food?”

“Yes.”

“Because you hate me and you’re trying to poison me?”

He blinked. “What?”

“It’s fine,” you said, hands raised in mock surrender. “I respect it. A clean kill. No one would suspect a thing.”

“…Why would I hate you?”

You let out a single, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding? You avoid me like I’m radioactive. You only talk to me when absolutely necessary, and even then, you struggle. You sigh when I speak.”

Hotch looked absolutely, entirely baffled.

“I sigh at everyone.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do. It’s a thinking thing.”

You scoffed. “Well, you don’t think around Morgan that much, apparently.”

He exhaled. Then, before you could launch into Exhibit D (the Unspoken Broom Closet Incident), he said:

“I’ve always valued your insight.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Your reports are consistently the most thorough. Your geographic profiling is precise. You’re one of the most detail-oriented agents I’ve worked with.”

You stared at him. “…So you don’t hate me?”

“No,” he said quickly. Too quickly. “Quite the opposite.”

Silence.

You opened your mouth, about to ask what the opposite of hate even meant in Hotch-speak, but he was already turning away, clearing his throat.

“Anyway,” he said, suddenly very interested in the wallpaper, “I thought you might want lunch. That’s all.”

And then he was gone. Just—left. Like he hadn’t just lobbed that cryptic grenade over his shoulder and walked away.

●・○・●・○・●・

You don’t eat it right away. Not because you’re still suspicious—it’s from your favourite deli and has your name written on the brown paper in what can only be described as Hotch's weird, neat serial killer handwriting—but because you're too busy mentally disassociating.

Quite the opposite.

What on earth did he mean?

The rest of the day passes in a weird, slow-motion haze. JJ gives you a weird look when you accidentally sit in her chair. Reid asks if you’ve seen his recent paper, and you blink at him like you’ve just returned from war.

Because you’re thinking. Hard.

Like:

That time Hotch asked if you were staying late and then looked weirdly panicked when you said you were walking home.

The morning you came in limping from breaking your ankle, and he said, “You shouldn’t be here,” in the flattest tone imaginable.

How he called you by your first name once, and you almost fell out of your chair because he never uses anyone’s first names. You chalked it up to a lapse. 

And then. Then, the worst one.

Last month. You’d been coughing like a maniac during a briefing. He had placed a bottle of water in front of you with a dull thunk. At the time, you had taken it to be his passive-aggressive way of saying please shut the fuck up right now. Only to find out later from JJ that he’d actually gotten up and left mid-meeting to get that water for you.

Now you're sitting at your desk rewatching it all in your head like the twist ending of a psychological thriller.

●・○・●・○・●・

You don’t see Hotch again until nearly 6 p.m., and when you do, he’s at his office door, jacket folded over one arm, clearly intending to head out.

You’re not even thinking when you get up and intercept him halfway down the hall.

He stops mid-step when he sees you. “Everything alright?”

“I… need you to clarify what’s going on.”

He exhales like someone who just got caught by airport security. “About what?”

You try to keep your expression neutral, but your heart is pounding like you’re about to ask your boss if he’s mad at you—because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“You’ve been… weird,” you say finally. “With me. For months.”

Hotch tilts his head. “Weird.”

“You barely speak to me unless it’s about a case. You avoid sitting near me on the jet. I brought cookies in last week, and you took one, then put it back. Who does that?”

He has the audacity to look mildly horrified. “I didn’t mean to put it back.”

“That’s not the point.”

You’re spiralling and he knows it. You can tell by the way his jaw tightens like he’s trying not to laugh. You, on the other hand, are mortified.

“I just need to know,” you continue, quieter now. “If I did something wrong. If I’ve annoyed you somehow, or if you genuinely just… can’t stand me.”

There’s a beat of silence, just long enough to make you want to crawl into the floor tiles.

Hotch runs a hand down his face. “I don’t hate you.”

“Could’ve fooled me.”

“I—” He pauses, and then, with all the charisma of a man giving a congressional hearing, says, “You make me nervous.”

You blink. “Sorry?”

“You… distract me,” he mutters, like he’s admitting to tax fraud. “I didn’t mean to be distant. I thought it would help.”

“Oh.” It comes out stupidly small, because your brain is too busy cataloguing every single interaction the two of you have ever had and realising, oh no, he was just emotionally repressed and completely, tragically bad at this.

You swallow. “So… you don’t think I’m annoying?”

“No,” he says, almost immediately, and then after a pause, “Not even a little. Not even when you talk over me in briefings.”

You almost laugh. “That’s because you talk like we’re in court.”

“And you talk like you’re arguing with your GPS.”

Now you do laugh, and something about the way his shoulders ease tells you this is maybe the most honest conversation you’ve ever had with him.

You look at him for a second longer, searching his face. “You’re really bad at this.”

“I know.”

“You could’ve just said you liked me.”

“I’m saying it now,” he says, softer.

And okay—maybe Hotch didn’t confess it with a rose in his teeth and violins playing in the background. Maybe it came out like a man filing paperwork for a broken heart. But it’s still something.

“You want to get coffee or something?” you ask.

He nods once. “Yeah. I do.”

You don’t know what this is yet. But it doesn’t feel like work. And this time, he didn’t glare— so, by your standards, that was basically a proposal.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate any likes/comments/reblogs/follows. Constructive criticism is welcome. Do not plagiarise my content and/or post it anywhere without crediting me.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

[lightseoul]

a/n. i really had to start writing for akaashi again on bakugou's birthday of all days, huh. in any case, this was a lot of fun to write, and came quite easily to me because i relate to akaashi a lot, personality-wise. somebody hold a gun to my head and force me to write more for him, because i've truly missed the guy. (0.8k)

c.w. minor haikyuu timeskip spoilers.

akaashi keiji is a smart man.

at least, he’d like to think he is.

to be fair, he’s always had good grades even way back in his formative years, was in the advanced classes in secondary school despite being busy with volleyball, and graduated with high honors in college. and while he is more awkward than he likes to admit, he’s always had his wits to fall back on—allowing him to ace his job interviews, eventually propelling him to work as one of the editors of a leading publishing company in central tokyo.

so, yes. maybe it isn’t farfetched of him to think he’s at least above average.

but right now, as he stares at his reflection in the relatively dirty mirror of the decidedly empty 12th-floor bathroom, he’s starting to doubt everything he’s ever believed about his intelligence.

but then again, love did have the reputation of making someone blind.

although, in his case, he’s far from blind. if anything, his vision is currently 20/20, thanks to his glasses.

his glasses that he never wears to work for the fear of looking like a dork, and thus he’s always made do with those prickly contacts—

until today.

the day after he overheard you talking to your mutual coworker on your way home, where you conveniently mentioned in passing how you found nerdy-looking guys cute.

…wait a minute.

did he just say love?

vigorously shaking his head, he reaches for some tissues at the side and curses when they stick to his hands after an attempt to dry them. jesus, for a company that’s known to have a high net value, they sure could invest in two-ply napkins, at the very least.

maybe he can bring that up with you later on, he thinks to himself as he walks along the sparsely populated cubicles, the early morning sun streaming through the floor-length windows. he’s not sure if the outsourcing of bathroom tissues is part of your job description as the hr analyst, but he’s running out of ideas on how to approach you, and truth be told, he’s getting antsy.

plus, he’s made the leap and worn his glasses today. it would be a waste if he couldn’t at least say hi to you.

or, you know, show his face. and hope to dear god he passes off as nerdy-looking.

the good kind. (for the love of god. please.)

“akaashi-san?”

akaashi freezes mid-step. fuck, he was so in his head about this entire ordeal that he didn’t notice it was getting close to the usual time you arrived at work.

clearing his throat, akaashi takes a shaky breath—not too deep, lest you find him out and his fried nerves, the way they always end up when you’re around—before finally turning on his heel and facing you.

and when he does—face you—it takes everything in him not to turn the other way and run for the hills.

to his credit, though, he stays still—perhaps a little too still—and musters a small smile. “y/n-san.”

he can only watch as the bewildered expression that was just etched on your face morphs into a similar smile. “i—uh, didn’t expect to see you this early.”

akaashi barely stops himself from cringing. his tardy streak is not something he wishes you’d notice about him.

“oh, yeah,” he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck, “there’s just—uh—a few deadlines that i need to meet, and i figured i get a headstart.”

liar, he could hear kuroo’s taunting voice in his head.

contrary to the antagonistic persona of the ebony-haired man residing in his head, though, you—being the good person that you are—only toss him a sympathetic yet encouraging smile, and he’s once again reminded of why he likes you so much.

“well, don’t push yourself too hard,” you offer, your work bag in one hand and a beverage in the other.

“thanks,” akaashi smiles—a little too curtly for his taste—before stepping aside so you could walk past. “i won’t.”

“great,” you laugh, and he stays put for a second as the distance between you two gets bigger and bigger—at least, until you turn again to face him and he stiffens.

“what?” he asks, hoping he’s not dripping with self-consciousness.

“nothing,” you shake your head, before spinning on your heel once more. “just—nice glasses.”

needless to say, yesterday was the last time he ever wore contacts to work.

˖⁺‧₊ as always, reblogs, replies, and tags are appreciated <3 feel free to drop an ask, too—i'd love to chat with you. have a nice day!

tagging. @bunnysaursushii @yawnzzzzzzzz @cholios @kashee-h @iluv-ace @lotuslovers @elarakive @touyas-moon @napbatata @k0z3me @h0ngh0ngh0ng @honeyoru @yoongiwithglasses @hellokitty-doll @lilsebnem @tetsuukuroo @crangrapel0ver @syrhra @qyuin @lotusstarr @akiii143 @eternallyshifting

[chvoswxtch]

oi, matt! can i get a macchiato? mayhaps over ice if that’s what the barista has to offer today….

matt x assistant!reader at nelson and murdock is one of my favourite flavours ever. i just neeeeed your take on it.

you know I had to kick off the celebration with this slut (works for you or matty) <3 also just so you know I could've kept going with this forever but tumblr told me to shut up bc apparently there's a word limit on answering asks but you get the picture ;)

as a reminder, over ice means it's spicy ! (minors dni)

headcannon below the cut

matt murdock is an hr nightmare

when foggy mentions that nelson & murdock could desperately use an assistant since karen is now at the bulletin, before matt even has a chance to speak, foggy is warning him to keep his dick in his pants

and when matt pulls that face (you know the one, the "she wanted to teach me" look of faux innocence) foggy reminds matt that not only is he a whore but he also has a history of being tempted by forbidden fruit (he probably fucked all the female interns at landman and zack, and then there's karen who he would've slept with if frank & elektra hadn't shown up but that's a different story for a different day)

matt does the lil "i cross my heart" thing and swears to foggy that he won't get involved with the new assistant

he also makes this promise to himself bc let's face it he's a human disaster who's life is constantly falling apart and the last thing he needs is drama that could've been avoided if he thought with the right head

but then the day of the interviews arrive and you walk in the room, and matt knows at that moment that he is completely fucked

your scent hits him first, something soft and subtle, a breath of fresh air from the stuffy office smell and the lingering assault of pungent perfume left behind by other candidates that had given him a dull headache

then it's your voice, god your voice, it's the most melodious sound he's ever heard. it's gentle but crisp, and your alluring intonation has him hanging onto your every word, especially his name that fell from your lips in greeting

touching your hand nearly does him in, bc getting to feel your smooth skin caress his rough palm makes it even worse. there's a an electric spark that tingles in his fingertips and shoots throughout the rest of his body, and he finds himself wondering if you feel it too, but then catches himself and quickly plasters on a professional appearance

it was one thing that every single thing about your existence drew him in, but the fact that you were also intelligent and well-spoken, deeply passionate and genuinely empathetic, while also quick to craft clever responses without your sharp wit coming off as ostentatious just made matt want you more

matt was uncharacteristically quiet while foggy asked most of the questions, to which you gave perfect answers, and occasionally chimed in with a few of his own just to redirect your attention where he wanted it: on him

by the end of the interview, foggy was sold on you, and so was matt, but for duplicitious reasons

matt tries so hard to keep his promise, but fuck do you make it (and him) hard. he makes a point to never be alone with you in the office. if a round at josie's is suggested, he makes sure foggy or karen will also be there. he tries to balance between being friendly while also being professional, trying to find the invisible line that crosses from innocent inquisitions to dangerous territory

he does his best not to initiate physical contact, which proves to be difficult, bc you're a hugger and always politely offering matt your arm to guide him whenever you go anywhere

you're so kind and thoughtful and treat him the exact way you treat everyone else and it makes him want to put his head through a wall bc every day that he spends with you makes this attraction worse and worse and he can't tell if it's purely physical or if it goes deeper than that

and then one day he just fucking snaps

matt has a really bad day. a lead he'd been working on for weeks ended up being a dead end, and matt had taken his frustration out on some petty thug in an alley, but it wasn't enough. he'd woken up on the wrong side of the bed, late at that, to a handful of voicemails from a pissed off foggy. it had been a grueling day in court, all of his senses were overwhelmed, and he had so much pent up tension in his body that he felt stiff

he was so wrapped up in himself that when he walked through the door of the office, he didn't realize he'd broken his own rule: never be alone with you

as soon as he realizes his mistake, he heads towards his office, returning your polite greeting with a grunt of acknowledgement. he hoped that you'd leave it alone, that you'd say something like you were just about to leave, and he'd be spared from you coming closer. but you being you, noticing every little detail and having learned to read matt, could tell something was off

you just wanted to help. you always just wanted to help, and matt loved that about you, but right now, it was only making this more difficult for him bc his self restraint was deteriorating

and then you gently touched his shoulder and matt let out a groan bc he could smell what you'd done the night previously. the scent of your arousal was still embedded in your skin even though you'd washed your hands several times, and the scent of soap was almost nonexistent as matt's nose focused solely on the delectable scent of your pussy on your own fingers

he'd made himself come many times to the thought of you over the last few months, but knowing that you'd fingered yourself last night possibly to the thought of him is what broke his resolve

matt didn't need his heightened senses to know you were attracted to him, that you felt something for him too. he knew it because he knew you, and sometimes you were obvious even when you thought you were being subtle for the sake of both your friendship and your professional reputation

before either of you could process what was happening, matt was devouring your mouth in a heated kiss, your blouse was halfway unbuttoned, just enough for him to pull down the cups of your bra to leave your tits spilling into his welcoming hands. your soft whimpers echoed around the empty office as he toyed with your nipples while assaulting your neck with his teeth and tongue

in record time you were bent over his desk, skirt bunched up around your hips, panties caught around your calves, and matt was pulling down his zipper to free his fully hard cock

the immense relief he felt as he sank into you fully from behind nearly brought him to his knees. he didn't know if it was the heightened allure of having something he wasn't supposed to, or how perfectly your tight cunt enveloped his thick cock, but he quickly got lost in your warm walls like a dazzling labyrinth he never wanted to escape

you were so fucking wet that it was obscene the noises your pussy made welcoming his cock as he pounded into you over and over and over again. but his favorite sound was you chanting his name, desperately pleading for more, which he was all too happy to oblige

you took him so well, your pussy enveloping his cock in a greedy manner, not allowing him the chance to slip out despite how soaked you were. he reached as deep as your body would allow and fucked you relentlessly like a madman on a mission

his rough hands gripped your hips in a bruising manner, and he was completely lost in a fog of lust. it didn't take long for either of you to come undone and it finally clicked for matt that he wasn't the only one that had been depriving himself for the sake of not crossing a boundary when your cunt tightened around his cock before flooding him with your release

matt waited until the absolute last possible second, swiftly pulling out with a hiss as he replaced your pussy with his right hand, stroking his cock at an inhuman speed just a few times before coating your ass in ropes of his come

he collapsed in his chair, but not without wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you down with him. the sound of heavy panting filled his office, and the air was humid and drenched in the scent of sex. matt nuzzled his face into your neck, hugging your back to his chest while the two of you attempted to catch your breath

he's able to pick up on the fact that your heart is still racing not bc of the incredible spontaneous sex, but also out of anxiety about what happens next, so matt decides to break the silence first

"I uh...know this is kinda backwards but, I was wondering if I could take you to dinner?"

in conclusion, he's a fucking menace

[lilac-5ky]

TOJI AND VIRGIN READER!

The Favor (officeAU!Toji x virgin!Fem!Reader)

Plot: The first day you met Toji, he told you everything on his CV was a lie. Three years later, he's your beloved work husband, the one you go to when you decide it's time to lose your virginity.

Tags: Office!AU, loss of virginity, fingering, oral sex (f.receiving), agee gap (reader mid 20s, toji mid 30s), soft!dom toji, dirty talking, praising, pet names (sweetheart, darling, kid, wife, whore, slut, etc), aftercare, toji catches feelings after fucking you, daddy vibes without the word, friends to lovers dynamic, size kink, lube handjob, MDNI obviously.

A/N: Combined your idea with my intense need to write an office!au. Hopefully this turned out to your liking and you forgive me for writing this much filth LMAO

Masterlist | AO3 | Requests

For promotion, for demotion, for raises and for cuts, in overtime and in bureaucracy, until layoff do us part.

In the insufferable reality of Japanese corporate life, a work spouse exists to shoulder the burden of overdue deadlines and never-ending stacks of paperwork. A husband who, in spite of not being bound to you through marriage, has vowed to stick by your side until either one of you breaks free from the shackles of human resources; your work husband.

You met each other on your first day at the company, both of you passing interviews for the same lowly position of staffing coordinator.

Your first impression of candidate number 9 was that his suit wasn’t really his but was likely borrowed from someone whose bicep wasn’t the size of their thigh and calf combined. Your second impression was whispered to your ear as the dark haired man rose from his chair and paraded down the interview room, nonchalantly letting slip that his bachelor’s degree along with every bit of qualification on his CV had been faked.

Whether that was a declaration of war or a testament to his unparalleled confidence, you wouldn’t know until a week later when you were assigned to the same miserable office corner, sharing a desk, a title, and a secret whose value skyrocketed once you became acquainted with your work place’s imposing policies.

One word would get both him and his knowing smile fired, but the moment you shook hands with Fushiguro Toji and promised to get along, you signed yourself up for a long-lasting partnership.

Over the three years you worked together, each grew out of their initial post. Your all-nighters paid off and you got promoted to an HR assistant, meaning you didn’t have to memorize everyone’s coffee order any longer, while Toji flourished as the department’s eye candy.

He’d ceased pretending that his broad shoulders could be boxed in second-hand suit jackets, and instead opted for rolled-up button-ups with the occasional monochromatic tie—a fit that put his sculpted physique into full view and threw the entire female populace out of balance.

He was an objectively good-looking man who bordered on great. The type to be conscious of their effect on others, cutting corners with suggestive glances and smiling his way out of otherwise unforgivable report oversights. Every woman in the office was openly in love with him. Even your supervisor referred to him as the team’s ace and discreetly unbuttoned her cleavage in his presence.

You realized then, they’d sooner let go of you and your hard-earned master’s, than part with the department’s mascot.

Despite the differences in skill and appearance, your sense of kinship survived the passage of time. Perhaps you’d subconsciously fallen victim to his charms, but whenever you saw his thin brows furrow and his right foot threaten the unresponsive copy machine with a killing blow, you couldn’t look away. This is a favor; you’d remind him at every formal email and resume assessment you helped put together.

And favors are repaid.

While Toji couldn’t assist with payroll processing, he always had the scoop on who cheated on their spouse with whom and whose bra was filled with padding—which you didn’t find all that interesting, but turned into a fun game of guess the cheater during dull 9 a.m. meetings.

On mornings when the alarm was hurled at your bedroom wall, he made excuses for your absence, and on work dinners, he saved you a seat away from all the grabby drunks.

Toji was far from a good person. His mere presence in a company you’d broken your back to get into was a mockery of your efforts. He led others on and got into muffled shutouts over his phone behind the water fountain, where he thought no one was listening in.

That’s how you found out about his eight-year-old kid and the custody battle with his allegedly “psychotic” ex-wife. He didn’t know you knew because you never told him. Everyone had skeletons in their closet, and it wasn’t your job to sort his out. As far as your work marriage was concerned, he was a good husband who diligently fulfilled his marital duties—all except one, which you feared the pretext of a favor wouldn’t begin to cover.

“Here’s your poison,” you slid the scalding coffee cup in his direction, mindful of the papers on his desk. “Black Americano with four shots of espresso and no sugar to compliment your wretched dark soul.”

Toji raised an open palm in your face, motioning for you to wait until he was done punching words on the keyboard and pressed save file. Your eyes were drawn to his fingers, threaded with faded scars that followed the expanse of veins down his wrists, dipping deep below the white cotton of his shirt. Another unsolved mystery you hadn’t gotten to the bottom of.

He brought the cup to his equally scarred lips, defying the steam spirals with a long-drawn sip. “Unnecessary intro, but thanks.” He gave a lazy smile. “Aren’t ya a sweetheart?”

You dropped your beverage on your side of the desk and swiveled your chair nearer. “Think you could do said sweetheart a favor?

“A favor, huh?” His breath was laced with caffeine. “Depends. If you’re asking for a buck, ‘fraid I’m all dried up till the end of the month.”

So he isn’t planning on paying for his order.

“I make more than you.”

“Doesn’t mean ya can’t find yourself in a pickle.”

You shook your head, stealing a sip of liquid courage from your mocha. How did people ask those things again?

Your contemplation lasted long enough for him to turn his head back to work, filling his home screen with enough tabs to distract you from his unfinished round of solitaire.

“What are you doing after work?” Your voice cracked into shards of uncertainty.

“Nice try.”He sneered. “You dug your own grave taking on the grievance procedures from the union. Climb out on your own.”

“Not everyone offloads their work load on others, Toji.” You rolled your eyes, scooting even closer to make sure only he’d be the recipient of your next words.

He sensed something was off because he wasn’t pretending to input random lines into the search bar anymore, and while he studied you, you studied him back. You had your doubts about this, and you weren’t sure he was your type either. You liked your men responsible and mature—like Nanami from sales, who would’ve been your first choice if your legs didn’t turn into jelly the minute you saw him.

Toji was the safe option. You talked to him. You joked with him. You were used to him, and more importantly, you trusted him. All the lack of qualifications in his job, he made up for with his experience in that other field you were a stranger to.

“Hey, kid.” His voice mellowed down with a beat of concern, a heavy hand landing on your shoulder. “If you’ve gotten yourself into trouble, I—”

“Please have sex with me.”

“Make yourself at home.” He nudged your back into the apartment, glancing over his shoulder to make sure you were following even after he’d pulled away.

Moving forward felt hard—as if you’d forgotten how to. You weren’t sure whether to wipe your shoes on the mat or stash them in the corner. You didn’t know which foot to put forth and what set of slippers to pick. Every decision suddenly mattered a lot more than it should.

You’d never been to Toji’s house before, and up until a few hours ago, you couldn’t fathom standing at his doorstep either. You weren’t that close so as to meet outside work hours, but you were about to get a lot more up close and personal.

The way he accepted your request with a mere, almost offensive, okay still boggled your brain. You’d considered every question he could possibly ask, painstakingly compiling your list of answers like a witness called to the stand, only for him to not speak a word of it—not even when it was just you and him and the solitude that came from enjoying lunch a hundred stories above Tokyo’s bustling streets.

He seemed to have forgotten all about your plans, up until he pulled over at the bus stop where you were waiting and stuffed you in the front seat of his car.

“You coming?”

Kicking your heels off your feet, you skipped straight through the hallway, your head turning left and right as if you were at an art gallery. You didn’t know what to expect, but a high-end apartment in the heart of Minato wasn’t it. Neither your income nor his justified an inox steel kitchen with mahogany wood flooring—let alone a direct view of the illuminated Tokyo Tower.

You were so bedazzled by the city skyline that you nearly missed the hastily buried socks peeking beneath the kotatsu, along with the cobwebs his untouched bookshelf flaunted. Much like his suit, his apartment was handed to him by someone whose love for both their books and spouse had run out.

“Whaddya think?”

Toji stalked behind you, his reflection in the glass becoming more defined with every step he took. He was holding something in each hand—two glasses whose orange liquid sparkled in place of the stars.

You turned around slowly, accepting your share with a small smile on your face.

“Your ex-wife has good taste.”

He blinked, taken aback for a split second. He wondered what gave it out—the pink slippers or the flipped-down picture frames you’d yet to notice—and somewhere down the line, he got the wrong idea, beaming with an unwarranted “Thanks.”

“I meant the house, not you.” Although you couldn’t blame him for his inflated ego when every female practically dropped their panties at his feet. Especially not when you were there to do the same.

Your teeth clicked sharply against the glass as you tilted your head and sipped on what tasted too sweet to be whiskey. Apple Juice?

“That’s not alcohol.” You stated.

“Ever thought of becoming a detective?” Toji padded toward the leather couch, spreading his thighs across the two middle cushions.

“Ever thought of becoming a comedian?” You retorted, squeezing in to his left. The furniture would’ve been big enough to fit you both, had he been considerate. “So what’s the joke? Too young to be drinking, or hard liquor ain’t for pretty girls like me?”

“Nah.” His head dropped on his shoulder, both propped against the headrest. “Need you sober for what’s about to happen.”

You mirrored his stance, your knees touching as you folded them on the smooth leather. “And what’s about to happen?”

“I think we both know, or else ya wouldn’t have followed me here.” He wet his bottom lip, pretty green eyes clouding dark.

A certain dryness gnawed at your throat, the pink color of his tongue appealing to you more than it should. You weren’t interested in Toji, but the strands of black that fell over his forehead painted a cuter image than you were used to seeing at the office. You wondered what he’d look like with his hair pushed back, all slick from beads of sweat rolling down his temples. And when you realized you couldn’t pin any of those thoughts on the alcohol, you took another sip, hurriedly averting your gaze.

“How many have? Women from work, I mean.”

You were surprised to hear him state “None,” and even more surprised that he claimed not to mix business with pleasure. You could think of at least three coworkers you suspected he fooled around with. At least so they bragged in the ladies’ room.

“So why bring me home?”

“‘Cause you asked.” Toji said gruffly.

“You fuck every woman who asks you to?”

“Only the cute ones.”

Your cheeks flushed red as you reminded yourself to take his words with a grain of salt. He wasn’t interested in you any more than you were in him. This was simply platonic—almost transactional. He’d do what you asked, and then you’d pay him back with another, mundane favor like sorting mail in his stead.

You finished your drink, your eyes licking up the remaining drops at the bottom of the glass. “This line works?”

Toji shrugged. It probably did. He probably didn’t even have to open his mouth for it to work. While the moment you opened yours—

“Want more?” He motioned to your glass. You nodded, extending your arm, only for his expression to turn sour. “I’m not your fucking maid. Bottle’s on the counter.”

You sighed, getting up so he wouldn’t see your eyes roll at his comment as he shoved his glass in your face. Who’s the maid now?

Aimlessly, you strolled into the kitchen, taking longer than necessary to fill both your glasses. You didn’t mean to start snooping around, but you couldn’t help yourself from seeking a sign of his presence in his picture-perfect apartment. Houses typically reveal something about their residents, and while the display of crystal glasses spoke plenty of his ex-wife, there was no evidence of Toji’s personality.

You weren’t interested in him—just curious. That’s what you kept telling yourself as you picked up a frame stowed away behind an empty cookie jar.

Four smiles greeted you, the brightest belonging to a young girl with elongated bangs, holding a boy who strove to copy his sister’s expression. Their parents stood behind them, a beautiful woman with long brown hair tucked in a ponytail blissfully leaning against the shoulder of a Toji that seemed less happy the longer you processed his strained features.

“She left.” The proximity of his voice startled you. The frame danced between your fingers until he snatched it, his jutted-out chin betraying his annoyance. “Took the kids, left the house and me behind. Ain’t that what ya wanted to hear?”

You shook your head, about to drop to your knees and beg for forgiveness on his parquet. However, the hostility that rose faded as soon as he threw the picture in the first open drawer and returned to the living room, leaving you to fetch your drinks. Then you remembered the phone calls. They weren’t on good terms.

“Having kids isn’t bad. Nor being divorced.” You handed him the glass, assuming your previous position on the couch. “Doesn’t ruin your cool guy image whatsoever.”

“Who said I care about that?” Toji snorted.

“Then you wouldn’t care if anything slipped in front of your fan club?”

“Mind your own fucking business.” He hissed. You chuckled. Sharing a couch wasn’t that much different from sharing a desk, and sharing two secrets was the same as sharing one.

“What are your kids’ names?”

“Kid,” he corrected. “Megumi.”

By the name, you assumed it was the girl. You were wrong. You tried to ask something about his son’s mother, but somehow you couldn’t find one right thing to say, since the woman in the photo wasn’t the boy’s biological mom either. You were lost. The more cryptic answers he gave, the more unanswered questions you ended up with.

Your plan took a backseat while Toji trod the sensitive topic of his divorce to that “bitch,” who’d taken his kid from him out of spite. The custody battle was tipped in her favor, courtesy of a legal system that’d rather see a child separated from its biological parent in the face of cold cash.

Megumi only visited every second weekend of the month, which explained his father’s eagerness to leave early on certain Fridays and come late on the following Mondays. He didn’t need to say this, but you understood his reasons for cheating his way into the company. A proper job looked good in court, and whatever earned him those scars was far from proper.

Both your hands emptied as you finished your second round of drinks. Your head would be buzzing if there was alcohol involved, but you didn’t miss it. Toji was hard to engage, and talking to him felt like running into one brick wall after another. However, working out of those dead-ends was preferable to clinking glasses with some guy who wouldn’t quit boasting about his Ivy League diploma or his burning passion for vocaloid singers—both cases reflecting the sad reality of blind dating in your twenties.

“So.” Toji drawled, a burly arm stretching behind your head. “Why you want me to fuck you? Can’t find good dick in the market?”

Your mind went blank in an instant, every excuse and curated version of the story vanishing when you needed them the most.

“I—um,” you cleared your throat, while your eyes scanned over his body.

There was a lot to take in: the fine lines of his pecs, highlighted under the taut white fabric; the black tie hanging loose around his unbuttoned collar; the hem of his shirt that dangled out of his fitted pants, exposing the tiniest window to the happy trail on his lower abdomen; his slim waist and his thick thighs; the curve of his bum; and the light touch of his fingers closing around your shoulder. You traced the same route of landmarks, finding yourself returning to his achingly handsome face and the playful curiosity in his eyes that had you shifting in your place.

All the reasons for someone to want to be fucked by this fine specimen of a man were right there, and you picked the most inclusive one. “Because you’re hot.”

The ends of his scar drew apart as Toji smiled a wolfish smile. He inched closer, your back hitting the armrest when his right hand caged your body between his arms and the couch.

“Bullshit.” A tickle from where his nose brushed against yours, and a thud from where your heart dropped inside your chest. “You think I wouldn’t know if ya had the hots for me, kid?”

“N-not everyone throws themselves at others.” You tried to reason.

“Maybe. But attraction comes with signs.” The side of his hand grazed the corner of your eyelid. “Batting your pretty lashes,” he trailed off, rough knuckles softly tracing the apple of your cheek. “Blushing your cheeks red.” The pad of his thumb swiped down your cupid’s bow. “Biting your lip raw.” He continued with his eyes, glancing at the skirt that lay high above your knees suggestively. “Pressing those plushy thighs together.”

“You do none ‘f those things.” Toji accused. “So why the sudden itch? Indulge me, and I’ll pound that pussy till ya scream.”

The promise of his words forced a gulp down your throat as your thighs involuntarily rubbed together. You started to reconsider. You didn’t want to fuck him just because any man would do. You wanted to fuck him because it was him and because every patch of skin he made contact with begged to be touched again.

“I’m a virgin.” You admitted, voice low, and stare even lower—utterly defeated as he flinched away in surprise.

You wondered what he’d say. A virgin at your age? was the most common response, followed by Is something wrong with you? and typically concluded with You sure you’re not a lesbian?

Everyone preaches how precious innocence is, but no one wants the pressure of taking it. What men really want is a woman who is both a saint and a slut—a woman who can suck their dick ten inches deeper than they can provide while simultaneously shying away from every insinuation of sex.

The problem is with the poor souls who belong in either category without adhering to the other, because squeezing your legs shut is just as faulty as spreading them open for the public.

Seeing as Toji remained silent, you realized you wouldn’t get an answer, and maybe it was for the best. You didn’t want to put a strain on your work relationship. It’d take a while to look him in the eye again, but in a month or two, you’d laugh about the incident over a cup of soggy store-bought noodles like nothing happened.

“Sorry for bothering you.” You mumbled as you picked up your last vestige of dignity and stood on your feet, only to be anchored by a set of fingers that tightly gripped your wrist.

“Sit.” His unfaltering gaze confirmed the sincerity of his command.

You thought about breaking free and dashing to the door. You thought about how much it’d actually hurt to let him ridicule you, and the tears started to build up on their own. And when you didn’t do as you were told, he towered over you with a palm that was eager to cup your cheek, tilting your face in position for him to print a rough kiss on your parted lips.

“I said fucking sit.” Toji repeated, while you contemplated how someone who spews words so harshly could have such soft lips.

Sheepishly, you fell back onto the couch, expecting him to follow suit and not kneel on the floor like he did. “What’s the story?” He asked, large hands taking hold of your knees and slowly rubbing them apart.

“What makes you think there’s a story?” You prayed that he couldn’t feel your heartbeat bounce across your body as if it were an empty vessel.

“With you, there always is.” He licked his lips as his eyes settled between your thighs, darkening with lust the second they were met with the damp patch in the middle of your pink lace knickers. “Wanna hear all about it while I feast on your little hole.”

“You’re not gonna fuck—”

“First things first, sweetheart. Gotta make sure y’are all prepped before I stuff you with my cock.” Toji smiled, pushing your skirt until it rolled over your stomach. “If ya gonna scream my ears off, better be from pleasure, mm?”

You nodded, watching as his slender fingers slid your underwear off and temporarily—you hoped—shoved it in his back pocket. You saw him marvel at the sight of your exposed cunt and wished you could peer into his brain to hear him curse himself for not coming up with this idea first.

You looked so pretty down there, your puffy clit safely tucked behind its hood while your lips shimmered with your wetness—the scent so intoxicating his pants tightened into a size too small.

He was already considering his next favor. Now that the door was open, he’d make sure it never closed again. Bending you over the copy machine was the front-runner. Getting a print of your tits squeezed against the scanner while he blows your back, his palm muffling out the pathetic sounds you let slip—he’d be lying if that wasn’t what he fantasized about whenever you refilled the ink cartridges for him.

“Ya ever touch yourself here?”

His thumb swiped over your clit, drawing an incomplete circle that ended with light flicks around the sensitive nub. Left and right. Up and down. Searching for the combination that’d have your body answer in place of your mouth, and when your hips bucked forward, he knew exactly where to press.

“Y-yes!” You whined, more as a reaction than an answer to his question.

“And ya ever push a finger in?” He continued, teasingly dragging his thumb between your lips.

“Just one. Rest hurt.”

“Mhm, bet they do.” He hummed as he tasted you on his finger, exaggerating the suck with a soft pop. “Ever had a guy kiss ya there before?”

Toji gave his own answer as he buried his head in your pussy, the sticky mix of his saliva and your juices trickling down your entrance while he made out with your clit. You struggled to keep your thighs apart, the raspy grunts at the back of his throat vibrating against your mound in joint symphony with your breathy moans. His tongue felt so good soaking on your slick that you felt yourself melting into a pool of pleasure.

“Get talkin’ or I’ll stop.” He warned, slowing down with broad, near-maddening, strokes that occasionally dipped between your folds.

“I wanted to w-wait,” you panted. “Wanted to fall in love first, but then I waited too long, and—ngh, fuck, right there!” Toji pinched your folds apart, his stare lecherous as he sucked the puffy pearl into his warm mouth.

Your body jerked in response, the leather squeaking hard beneath your bared ass. You weren’t sure at what point interest surpassed curiosity, but the signs were all there, manifesting as heat in your cheeks and blood that threatened to drop from your chewed-up lip.

His jade eyes narrowed into a shrewd reminder. Putting your thoughts in order was impossible, but if you stopped, so would he.

“Everyone ‘round me started d-doing it, and I was the only one l-left.” You tried to regulate your breathing through your nose, your throat turning hoarse from all the strain. “Went on a bunch of blind dates, but the guys were t-turned off, and—how the fuck are you so good at this?”

Toji chuckled, the pink tip of his tongue parting your lips in a languid motion that made you shudder. “Let’s just say my marriage didn’t fall apart ‘cause of this.”

He mounted your knees atop his shoulders and neared your entrance, with his middle and ring fingers ghosting over the softness of your pulsing slit. “Gonna use my fingers now. Be a good girl and cum on them, will ya?”

The first digit pushed forward, much thicker than any of your fingers. You felt so full already—nails digging into the cushions, while he thrust in and out of your walls, curling the lone pad to find a spot so sweet it elicited a moan of equal sweetness.

“Ya did well to come to me.” He continued, his raspy voice effortlessly sexy. “Kids these days don’t know shit ‘bout pleasing a woman.”

The veins on his wrist flexed along with his scars as his ring finger joined in the action to defy your previous claim. There was no pain. Only immense waves of pleasure leaking through your squinted eyes as hot tears beaded your eyelashes.

“Doin’ so good for me, darlin’.” He praised, repeatedly hitting the swollen bundle of nerves inside your throbbing cunt, bringing you closer to the edge with each thorough pump.

“Maybe I was wrong, hm? Maybe that’s what ya wanted all along. I know I did. Fucking wanted my hands on this pussy since I first saw ya fidget with your little skirt at that interview.”

“Toji—”

He dived between your legs again, his hand maintaining the same erratic pace even while his tongue hungrily lapped at your clit. Your head lolled back, the tension in your guts rapidly building up until you came undone, your pussy clenching and creaming around his calloused fingers.

You’d never finished so hard on your own, the tremors of your orgasm ringing in your ears and jogging your memory.

Your first impression on that day was sadness, right? Sadness over the wedding band the handsome stranger hid in his pocket right before entering the building, thinking no one else caught sight of it, and embarrassment about how your impure thoughts for a married man followed you into the shower every night after work.

“Atta girl.” A present-day and very-much divorced Toji licked his lips into a smile. “Their fucking loss.”

His knee pressed into the gap between your thighs as he stood on his feet and prompted you to open your lips. You took his fingers in your mouth, licking your cum off while your chest heaved with one labored breath after the other.

“See how good ya taste?” Toji cooed, rhythmically fucking his fingers on your tongue before removing them. “Sweeter than honey.”

“Thought you didn’t like sweet things.” His coffee order came in mind.

“How ‘bout we make an exception?”

You weren’t sure what got into you when you grabbed him by the tie and pulled him forward, kissing him with such vigor you’d never experienced. You always thought of losing your virginity as checking an item off your bucket list. You didn’t imagine you could ever lust after someone the way you currently lusted after Toji, your desire escalating into an all-consuming need.

His tongue moved as skillfully in your mouth as it did when it explored your pussy, dancing with your own rather than overpowering it. You liked kissing him. You liked kissing him so much that you wanted to incorporate it into your morning hellos and your evening goodbyes, dragging yourselves into an endless loop of returned favors.

Without breaking the kiss, Toji hoisted you up from the couch and held you in his arms, his palms finding the perfect excuse to grab onto your ass while he carried you across rooms you didn’t care enough to see. A door creaked behind your back, and soon you were tossed onto a large body of endless softness—a bed, you realized as Toji hastily shoved a couple of pillows behind your head.

“Ever heard of that stupid nickname that goes ‘round work?” He whispered in your ear while his fingers worked on undoing your blouse. “How they call ya my work wife?” His palms slid around your ribs and back to unhook your bra. “Guess this makes it our wedding night, heh.”

You rolled your eyes, holding back a chuckle. “Don’t you feel any shame calling me your wife when you’re about to fuck me on your ex-wife’s bed?”

“My bed now, and what I say fucking goes.” He stripped your body from every garment, salaciously gawking at your nude figure on his (her) satin sheets.

You didn’t feel too bad about showing your body, but his stare was almost intrusive—especially with how he hadn’t lost a single article of clothing himself.

“Such a gorgeous body, wife.” He dragged out the final syllables, hoping to elicit a reaction separate from the soft pants you let out as he caressed your soft curves—both much softer than the bedding you were splayed across, liquid velvet in his hands. “Such a good little wife, saving herself for her husband to deflower.”

“Why thank you, husband.” You chortled, cupping his face in a deep kiss.

You knew Toji was the right choice. Not because touching him felt like winning the lottery or because he knew exactly what he was doing, but because he could’ve made this situation a lot more awkward and didn’t. He made your first time feel special, granting your wish of doing it with someone you loved, even if it was all an illusion that’d fade come tomorrow morning.

You almost thanked him as he began to unbutton his shirt, the display of corded muscles and pale scars breaking the dam between your legs. Whatever your type might’ve once been, was no more. It was all Toji, with his clenched fists lifting the weight of his brawny, veiny arms, his shoulders so wide you could ride on them, and the self-complacent smirk your stupefied expression brought to his lips.

“This ain’t an exhibit, sweetheart.” He mocked. “You can touch all ya want.”

He didn’t need to say it twice for your palms to roam his body, starting from his neck and slowly gliding down his torso, feeling out the tension in his steeled abdomen. His skin was smooth, except for the few unruly hairs leading down to the bulge in his crotch, whose sight alone made you lick your lips and buck your hips into his. You wanted to see the rest of him.

“You are the hottest divorcee I know.” You smiled earnestly.

“Ya know lots of ‘em?” Toji cocked his head while you shook yours with a giggle. “Don’t be so flattering.”

“I do have a great-aunt…”

“Oh, please.” He groaned, allowing you to laugh it out. He didn’t like how his bottom lip twitched as he struggled to contain a chuckle of his own. He’d long sworn off girls that made his heart skip a beat.

“Think y’are ready?” You nodded. Repeatedly.

Digging his knees into the bed, he stretched an arm toward the nightstand, fishing for a bottle in one of the drawers. Lube, you realized as he settled it beside you to remove his pants, flinging them along with his boxers to the other side of the room.

Your eyes widened at the sight of his cock, an expression that didn’t look too good considering fear was about the last emotion you should be experiencing.

He was packing in every sense of the word. Long, thick, and definitely heavy as it hung above his hefty balls, the reddened tip pointing at your entrance. It wasn’t like you’d never seen a cock before. Porn existed, and so did perverts in trench coats, but comparing either one to him was both disrespectful and a huge understatement.

“Don’t go cold on me now, mm? It will fit.” He read your mind, taking your hand in his and slotting the bottle in your fist. “Prepped you so good for it. You’ll see; you’ll like this more than my fingers.”

“Promise.” He added, squeezing your hand reassuringly. You chose to trust him, and when he brought your other hand to his shaft, you knew what he was asking you to do.

The bottle spurted a thick glob of liquid that your palm smeared all over his cock head. Toji watched with bated breath as you stroked his length, each thorough pump of your delicate hands warming him up.

He deserved a pat on the back for not cumming right then and there—the distinction between the clear lubricant and his creamy precum becoming more prominent while he throbbed and twitched in your tight grasp. He thought about how much tighter your walls would be, milking every drop he had to offer while you writhed beneath him, with little ah-ah-ah’s and Toji please’s complimenting the squelching of your tight virgin cunt.

“That’s enough.”

He pulled your hand away and cracked the bottle open once more, rubbing a small quantity between his fingers and then scissoring them in your walls. You clung onto him, your hips chasing after his touch. Cute.

“Eyes on me, darlin’.” Toji leaned close enough so that your field of view was consumed by his face. “Keep your eyes on me, breath in ‘n’ out, and it won’t hurt one bit. I’ll take good care of ya.”

Your legs were parted as he ran his cock between your folds and pressed down firmly, his hand moving to your hip once he guided the first inches inside.

Toji was the first to react as he sank in deeper, about two-thirds in when he felt your pussy snare around him like a vice, the warmth of your walls making him curse under his breath. His last fuck was less than a weekend ago, and yet he felt like one of those loser kids he scorned earlier. He’d forgotten just how good being inside a virgin was—a one-and-done deal that would cease to amaze him after he fucked you into his shape.

“All good?” He remembered to ask, taking your strained yes at face value.

Small creases formed over your forehead, contorting your expression into a pained wince the further he sheathed himself into your wet cavern—and when his words weren’t enough, his lips took over. He kissed your worries away and cradled your breasts in his palms, doing everything in his power to keep the pain to a minimum as his hips met with your pelvis, bone against bone and skin against skin, until he finally bottomed out.

A whimper cut your kiss short, and for a second he feared tears would stream from your glassy eyes, not considering the possibility of your shaky legs wrapping around his back and your swollen, pretty lips calling out his name with a stuttered moan.

“F-fuck me, Toji. Please—fuck, I need you so badly.” You begged, dropping the pretense of composure.

“Yeah? Want me to fuck your little virgin pussy?”

“Y-yes, Toji, yes!”

“Yes, what, doll?” He teased. “Say it.”

“Please be my first, Toji.”

His grin turned feral in a heartbeat, your words stirring something in him that he could not explain.

He was prepared to spend the entire night fucking you at a snail’s pace, buttering you up with praises, and pampering you as if you were a golden egg goose, but now he didn’t have to. He could fuck you exactly how he pleased—fold your knees onto your stomach and hold down onto your thighs, pussy all exposed to where he could watch his cock pound into your hole and hear each and every strike of his balls against the fat of your ass—and you would take it.

But when he looked down and saw the ring of red that’d formed around his shaft, he had a change of heart. Maybe another time.

Planting his fingers on your hips, he withdrew slightly, purposely aligning his tip with the roof of your cunt. He didn’t have to go hard to make you happy. All he had to do was hit that one spot, and you’d be coming back for more. Having a steady thing wouldn’t hurt either. It was convenient—certainly better than burning gas driving across town just to pick up some random slut he’d tire of five minutes into her over-the-top screams. At least you lived close by.

With lavish strokes, he rolled his hips against your own, dipping forward to grind his pubic bone against your mound. It didn’t take long for the stimulation to get overwhelming, your hair falling from your strict work up-do all over your sweaty forehead while you thrashed around the sheets, huffs escalating into whiny moans.

“Sh-shit, gonna cum, Toji.” You managed, though there was no real need to tell him.

Your body responded perfectly to his, wetness gushing over his cock while your walls tightened impossibly around him. He fucked you through your high, wrapping his arms below your shoulders and muting your blissful sobs to chase after his own release. Your breasts were squeezed against his pecs, pebbled nipples making him regret not giving them the proper attention.

This wouldn’t be the last time. Your body was like a playground to him, and he sure as hell wasn’t done playing.

“My fucking work wife.” Toji grunted possessively in your ear, nipping at the lobe. Only his lower half moved, a constant snap of hips bouncing through the room as the second lewdest sound after the ones you traded. “Wanna send your ass crawling to work on all fours. That’ll show them, mm? Show them who fucked you so good. What a—fuck, what a good slut y’are f’me. From a virgin to my whore—hah, make ‘em all so jealous.

“Shhhhit, ya like that?” He interpreted your clenching as he willed. “Wanna start a rumor? Fuck on every desk, in every stall, and have everyone know?”

“Yes, Toji! Yesyesyes, want everyone to know you f-fucked me.”

You went back and forth between panting out his name and chanting yes, as those were the only two words you could mindlessly repeat. He wasn’t joking about making you scream. You were on the verge of passing out, so engrossed in ecstasy that you’d lost track of how many times you’d climaxed.

“‘s too much, T-Toji!” You begged, burying your head in the curve of his neck and breathing in his musk. You were both so sweaty, glued together like two puzzle pieces.

“One more, sweetheart. ‘m so close—wanna feel ya cum with me.”

He toyed with your clit until he started to fall out of pace, drawing his cock out before it was caught in the spasms of your pussy. A hefty load burst in his fist as he jerked himself off to your fucked-out form, hot drops of cum spraying your stomach like creamy droplets of rain.

Neither of you realized how soaked the sheets were until Toji left the bed, his eyes not faking their surprise. You didn’t seem to be in that much pain, and yet the amount of blood and wetness was at least equal to carnage.

Would it be a dick move to task you with his laundry?

He spared you a glance, not bothering to hide his smugness. Your legs were still trembling, your breasts puffing up in your struggle to breathe through your agape lips. He was tempted to tell you off—something cheesy like, “Want somethin’ in your mouth that badly?”

“Hey, kid. You are not dead—are you?” He asked jokingly, laughing through his nose as you found the strength to flip him off. Now that the effects of your orgasm were wearing off, so was your obedience.

“How’d ya like your first time?” A thumbs-up this time. “A’right. C’mere.”

The longer he let the stain settle, the more of a bitch it’d be to remove it. That’s what Toji told himself as he picked you up in his arms and carried you into the bathroom, returning to the bedroom only to roll the sheets into a ball he’d later discard in the washing machine. He wasn’t avoiding looking at your cute face, and he definitely didn’t think of your weakened infant-like state as cute when he scrubbed your thighs clean with a wet towel either.

A weird image sparked in his memory, one from the many nights you’d spent working side by side at a dimly lit office. He remembered you ordering him takeout and looming over his head like a vulture while he went neck-to-neck with the vicious spreadsheet program. You insisted on tutoring him, claiming your dressy outfit was a result of canceled plans—even though you kept stealing glances at the clock—and staying with him until the wee hours when you didn’t have to.

You really were a sweetheart, an angel, and all the other terms of endearment he used on you knowing they made your lips stretch and your eyes sparkle. But that wasn’t for you to know.

“Toji?” Your voice jolted him out of his reverie—frail, but not as frail as the hands that wrapped around his own to snatch the towel.

What could he say to make you leave without any harsh feelings coming back to bite him in the ass?

He pondered his options while you bent forward from where he’d seated you on the counter by the sink. You held his limp dick in your palm, gently wiping the dried blood and cum that clung to his girth.

It was sickening how quickly he stiffened, all ready to ram it in your pussy and fuck you with the mirrored view of your ass in the backdrop, but what truly made his guts churn was the little cheeky smile you beamed with. He stood by his words. Virgins were the biggest sluts.

The towel dropped to the floor as you pointed his cock at your entrance, and that was all the convincing he needed.

“Fine.” Toji sighed, pinning your wrists on the cold quartz counter top. “You can stay the night, but mention work and I’m kicking ya out.”

This is definitely not how you say it.

You made it to the office the next day after a brief raid on your apartment. Going to work in your previous day’s clothes screamed, “Look at me! I got laid!” And as fun as creating all those fantasies with Toji was, you could do without earning “Hated Employee of the Month.” Everyone hated you for being friends with him as is.

He waited until you’d changed into a presentable outfit and dropped you off a block further away for precaution. You shared your final kiss in the car, wasting a whole fifteen minutes sucking each other’s faces off like teenagers at a drive-in. Dating a colleague was against the rules, and you didn’t want to date Toji either. Not that he’d asked. Not that you expected him to ask.

Losing your virginity was a lot more complicated than you thought.

He counted on you to bring coffee, and you would have if an intense craving for spicy tuna onigiri didn’t win you over. The convenience store was right around the corner, and its coffee was honestly not that bad if you squinted your eyes and fooled your senses a bit.

You grabbed two onigiri from the stand—in case Toji felt like stealing yours—along with an apple juicebox, both as a means of thanking and poking fun at him. You paid for the items and walked to the office, nauseated by the butterflies that swarmed in your stomach. You should’ve really eaten something instead of having your final hookup at the breakfast table.

A few people greeted you in and out of the elevator to the forty-seventh floor, some commenting on your looking less gloomy than usual, but that was about it. The world spun the same way it did even before you had sex. No big change or mind-blowing epiphany; just a euphoric feeling of accomplishment that dissipated the moment you saw the stack of documents waiting on your desk.

“That’s just the tip of the iceberg.” Toji magically sprouted from behind, loaded binders balanced on his arms—the same arms that’d lavished you with affection all night long. “They had a fall out at one of the subsidiaries, and now we gotta clean up their shit.”

And back to reality we go.

“Where’s my coffee?” He searched for a cup on his desk.

You pushed your desperation aside and held the juice to his face with a smile that turned awkward the longer he took to accept it.

“It’s um, you know.” You stepped closer, placing the box atop his mountain of files. “Thank you.”

“Also, got you this, so don’t even think of taking mine.” You balanced the onigiri beside the juice and plopped down on your chair, an antsy, blushing mess that refused to meet his stare until he looped an arm around your headrest and attached his mouth to your ear.

“Care to do me a favor?”

[monstertreden]

☕︎ ENERGON & TEA ☕︎

-Reader: FEM reader   -TW: none, slight "innuendos" towards the end -Character: Thundercraker (Transformers series) -Summary: He won't pay attention to you all day, what was he up to? -Word count : 2204 -A/N: Yipiii I've used my art as the thumbnail eheheh. Some of people that liked the drawing wanted to see the fanfic, I hope you may like ittt :) It took me a bit more than I expected, since I've been sick all week :(

He has been unusually quiet all day long. Normally, despite being a reserved type, he would break the ice, but today he was so absorbed in his own datapad (just like an ipad kid) to even pay attention to you, minutes ago he almost stepped on you  without noticing. Did Starscream assign him too much work? With that frown on his face, you could assume he was beyond annoyed…

And you craved that attention. You were already small next to him- a colossal metal alien robot that now towered above you on his chair. Since last week it has been particularly windy and today was exactly like that, you were FREEZING, the frigid air seemed to seep into your bones. There weren’t functional heaters around, you desperately needed something to warm you up, but that blankie of yours wrapped around your shoulders surely wasn’t enough to keep you warm and fuzzy. You could feel the numbing fingers of winter creeping in, and all you could think about was how to escape the chill that enveloped you.

You eyed Thundercracker, his massive frame radiating warmth while he remained completely oblivious to your suffering.  The audacity.

You tugged your blanket tighter, but it was mostly useless. The cold was relentless, and he was right. There., an actual walking, talking heater—yet he wasn’t even sparing you a glance, his optics reflecting the datapad blue hue.

You let out a frustrated huff. Maybe a little, gentle nudge would remind him you existed, right there, just under his pedes, seeking his attention. Taking a few steps closer, you reached up and gave his leg a push. Nothing. Not even a glance. Alright, desperate times called for desperate measures.

“Thundercrackerrrrrrrrr” you whined, voice muffled in your blanket cocooned around you. “I’m cold.”

Across from you, the Seeker remained hunched over his datapad, completely absorbed in whatever he was reading. His wings twitched—progress. But still, no real reaction. Certainly not what you were hoping for.

Pouting,you tried again, stomping your foot for emphasis. “Hey, I know you run warm! C’mon, let me borrow some of that Seeker body heat, instead of hoarding it like a selfish jet!!”

That finally got his attention. With an exasperated sigh, he lowered his datapad just enough to give you an unimpressed look. His optics flickered over your bundled-up form before deadpanning,“You could just say you want attention instead of making it sound like an emergency.”

“It. is. an emergency, are you mocking me??” you insisted, eyebrows raised dramatically, wrapping your arms tighter around yourself “I’m dying, TC. Right here. Right here in front of you.”

He scoffed dismissively, clearly not buying it. His gaze right back to the glowing datapad in his hands “You’re not dying.”

“I could be,” you shot back, snuggling deeper into your blanket. “Hypothermia. Frostbite. Who knows how much longer I have before I become an ice sculpture!” His mouth opened to protest but you quickly shushed him, raising a finger "Don't you dare gaslight me, you glorified built-in heater"

He exhaled through his vents, optics narrowing slightly. “That’s not what gaslighting means.”

“It is when I say it is,” you huffed, refusing to back down “Now, are you gonna let me mooch off your internal warmth or am I filing an official complaint to the Decepticon HR department?”

His optics dimmed in exhaustion. “There is no HR department.” He stated, his patience wearing thin with the back and forth.

“That’s only because they haven’t heard my case yet. There will be if I keep suffering like this.”

Thundercracker stared at you for a long deliberate moment, his expression unreadable. Then, with an audible sigh of why me, he set his datapad down and shifted just enough to allow you closer. “Fine. But if you drool on me, I’m launching you outside to let you freeze.” What a big fat lie he just told.

Grinning in triumph, you wasted no time in pressing yourself against his side, gently being picked up by hi hand and put near his neck, already blissfully basking in the warmth radiating from his cables.

Oh. Oh. This was so much better.

Thundercracker, however, barely spared you another glance before refocusing on his datapad. His optics flickered as he scrolled through whatever had him so engrossed, his expression unreadable.

Naturally, that only made you more curious.

“What are you writinggg?” You craned your neck, attempting to peer over the massive digits partially shielding the screen. Immediately, his servo shifted, cupping around your face to block your view as he turned the datapad further out of reach. “Nothing,” he said a little too quickly. “Just Starscream’s work. The usual report that slag was supposed to do and hand to Shockwave but dumped on me—HEY! HOW—”

Being small had its advantages. Like a determined hamster slipping through the digits of his hand, you expertly wriggled free , using his own shoulder plating as leverage to climb higher. You leaned over, eyes scanning the glowing lines of Cybertronian script… Some of those strange glyphs seemed familiar. After spending so much time around Thundercracker, you had gradually picked up the language. Although you weren’t fluent, you could understand enough to realize that this wasn’t just another boring Decepticon report. You squinted your eyes, reading out loud :

"He would always find solace in the storm, caught not in the chaos of before or the aftermath, but in the very moment. The roar of thunder would speak to him without judgment, a familiarity he longed for. Decades of wishes led him to the only place he truly felt at home, where the howling winds would always wait for him. They would always hug his bigger frame with their smaller hands while he recharged, but especially when they joined under the stars—"

That definitely didn’t sound like the usual boring logistics or reports Starscream routinely dumped on Thundercracker. Your curiosity flared as you tried to decipher more, but before you could get further, a very flustered Thundercracker snatched the datapad away, holding it high out of reach.

“Alright, enough snooping, you little rodent ”

You grinned up at him, arms crossed over your chest. “That didn’t look like work to me. It looked like some kind of—” you paused for dramatic effect, “poetry.”

His optics widened slightly, then narrowed as he pointed a finger at you. “First of all, it’s not poetry.” The way his wings twitched violently told you everything you needed to know.

You smirked triumphantly. “Oh, It totally is.”

Thundercracker groaned, rubbing his faceplate in exasperation. “It’s just—something I write sometimes. It’s nothing important. Just classified information”

“It so is! You even wrote about the wind hugging you—oh my god, TC, are you writing self-insert romance?”

For a second, he remained quiet and scowled. “I've told you! That’s classified!” He kept insisting.

“No way!” You giggled, eyes darting back to the glowing text of the datapad, but before you could read another sentence, his large hand effortlessly scooped you up with way more ease than should be legal.

Dang it. He had size on his side too.

Grumbling, he plopped you back down into the crook of his neck as if that would make you forget everything. “You saw nothing.”

However, you couldn’t help but snicker, already warming up again. “Oh, no, I saw everything. And now I have so many questions just for you mister alien.”

Thundercracker groaned, muttering something about regretting ever letting you sit near his neck. "You promise not to laugh…?"

"I pinky promise!" you replied, raising a finger to seal the vow with mock solemnity.

Just then he hesitated, “Just so you know…this is uhm..meant for a more mature audience actually" His optics flickered between you and the datapad still clutched in his hand , raising his glasses. “I— I’ve tried sharing my work before,” he admitted, voice quieter now, like he was letting you in on a secret no one else knew. “Other bots— they don’t get it. They think it’s weird. Call me names for it.” His vents exhaled sharply, like he was forcing the words out. “So, I stopped.”

"Then something happened, one night…I've gathered some courage…I— I got the courage to start posting again. On a brand new blog,all mine.” His wings twitched, and if you didn’t know better, you’d almost think he was flustered." That's where..I started finding my own people, bots who enjoy my writings, who get it, who get me-they- uh,,it's embarassing to explain it" Your eyes widened. “You’ve got fans? followers??”

“Not fans, or er followers, I don't care if they're millions” he grumbled, glaring at nothing in particular. “Just… bots who don’t make fun of me.”

"….millions…?" A wide grin spread across your face, practically vibrating, grabbing his faceplate. “THUNDERCRAKER YOU'RE FAMOUS”

“Stop it.”

“Oh. my. god., you’re a secret literary influencer. AND YOU DIDN'T TELL ME? Thundercraker I'm utterly disappointed in you…Do you have a pen name? Do you do Q&As? Do you—”

Clearly exasperated he let out a long sigh"…-I, yes." , getting it all out of his chest "on my side blog"Leaning even closer to his faceplace, your curiosity piqued “Wait, wait—what do you write on the side blog? Is it more poetry? Deep reflections? Or—” Your gasp was audible miles away, eyes practically sparkling. “Do you write fic?”

Thundercracker stiffened, as if the mere suggestion had thrown him off balance.

You inhaled sharply, realization washing over you. “YOU DO.”

His vents whirred with increasing intensity. “I will throw you.”

“Ohhh, seems like someone likes to write fanfiction about their peers!” you teased, grinning like you’d just uncovered Cybertron’s best-kept secret. “What is it?? Secret forbidden Decepticon romances? Dramatic retellings of mission failures? Starscream redemption arcs?”

He made a noise between a frustrated groan and a static-laced growl. “It’s not that.”

You gasped theatrically, pressing a hand to your chest. “Oh God, is it about Megatron?”

Thundercracker recoiled so hard his thrusters nearly flared to life, causing a brief shimmer of light around him. “ABSOLUTELY NOT…or well, yet”

You waved a hand nonchalantly, leaning back into your blanket. “Oh, come on, TC! I can just picture it now—Decepticons in love, right? You, writing about all your fellow Seekers in dramatic, very emotional situations. Spicy stuff too, right?”

Ah, you caught on even quicker than he expected. His wings twitched nervously, and his gaze flickered down to you“It’s not exactly… what you think,” he muttered, as if trying to downplay his fascination.

“Oh?” You practically bounced with curiosity. “So you don’t write about your fascination with your other peers? I mean, I’ve seen some pretty intense stuff on the net— wait a second…if that's not the case… then…” You leaned in closer ( if that was even possible), squinting up at him with a playful grin. “—Bot x Human?”

He froze. Silence stretched between you, thick enough to cut with a blade. His wings gave an involuntary twitch, his vents releasing a slow, steady exhale like he was already regretting everything.

“I knew it!That’s your thing! You’ve been writing about us all along!”

Thundercracker hesitated, his optics flickering, and there was no hiding the slight tinge of something deeper behind his words. “I… I just think humans are… fascinating. They’re small, but they feel everything so strongly. I mean, they’re capable of emotions and connections that—” He stuttered.

“Aw, TC,” you teased, your grin widening. “You’re a romantic.” *Thundercracker blinked at you, surprised by your response. “You’re… not weirded out?”

“Nope.” You grinned playfully. “Honestly? I think it's kinda sweet, even if it’s a bit scary. Picture a big Decepticon like you, writing stories about us humans and what makes them tick?” You snickered. “You’re like a secret human studies scholar! And from now on I'll be your own personal teacher! mhh, or maybe  human muse sounds more fun,  don't you think?”

“Also, I’m full of useful knowledge!” nudging his hand  "Before you know it, you’ll be an expert on humans. And hey, who knows? You might even get better at writing them… in all areas  eheh even the spicy bits, the things humans like to read about late at night. You know the ones.” You shot him a knowing look. “I’ve seen plenty of spicy fanfics out there. I’m sure your readers would love that content from a Decepticon writer!”

He vented against your face, his wings twitching nervously for the tenth time. "Fine then. If you want to help so badly…" You felt him mass shift beneath you, the air growing thicker, and tense.

In an instant, you found yourself nearly pressed against his side as his hand moved into a more comfortable position to hold you. The sensation of his body, now slightly taller and bigger than yours, felt like a strange mix of security and intimacy. Thundercracker shifted once more, making sure you were settled before his voice returned, quieter but with a hint of nervousness.

"If you'll allow me then-" his hands twitched and stopped just above your shirt.

You couldn’t suppress a grin, feeling the excitement building. "Oh, I think you’ll do just fine. We could use this time to learn more about what makes…both bots and humans…unique".

[saffusthings]

chapter 2: you're on your own, kid

ceo!oscar piastri x reader

summary: the one where an opportunity arises.

word count: 1.3k

one | two | three

Oscar wasn’t reckless. Every decision he made, whether in business or in life, was careful, deliberate. So when she began to occupy more space in his thoughts than he was comfortable admitting, he decided to treat it like any of his other projects. Not emotionally - Oscar Piastri didn’t do emotional. 

Head over heart.

Always.

“Logan,” Oscar began one afternoon, his tone casual, as his assistant walked into the office. “What’s our updated status on next quarter’s internship positions?”

Logan, pulling up different tabs to cross-reference on his tablet, glanced up in confusion. “Internship positions? I thought we finalized those a few weeks ago. Everything’s locked in.”

“Remind me,” Oscar continued smoothly, leaning back in his chair. “Do we have any open spots in legal or compliance? Or plans to expand there?”

Logan furrowed his brow. “Not really. Legal’s been fully staffed for a while now. And compliance? We’re in a good place there too.”

Oscar nodded, his expression giving nothing away. “Fair. Still, it might be worth revisiting. Fresh talent brings fresh perspectives. Maybe we’ve overlooked an opportunity.”

Logan blinked at him for a second before shrugging. “Sure. I can ask HR to review our pipelines, if you’d like.”

“Please,” Oscar said, returning his attention to the file on his desk as if the matter were entirely routine.

But it wasn’t.

The opportunity came just a few days later, during one of Logan’s more casual updates.

“She’s absolutely buried with exams and applications right now,” Logan said, shaking his head as he popped the lid off his coffee. “I told her she doesn’t need to worry—every firm out there would be fighting to have her—but she’s still stressing over it.”

“Job applications?” Oscar echoed, feigning mild interest.

“Yeah,” Logan said, settling into the chair across from him. “She’s picky, though. Doesn’t want to just take the first offer that comes along. Wants somewhere she actually respects.”

“Smart,” Oscar commented, his tone neutral but his mind already working. “With her qualifications, she’d be an asset anywhere. Including here.”

Logan blinked at the suggestion, surprised. “Here? You mean this company?”

“Why not?” Oscar asked, shrugging slightly. “We’ve always prioritized talent over experience. If she’s looking for opportunities, it wouldn’t hurt to suggest she apply. From everything you’ve said, she sounds like the kind of candidate we should be keeping an eye on.”

Logan chuckled, though there was a flicker of intrigue in his expression. “She is brilliant, but I don’t know if this is her kind of place. She’s more interested in the big-picture side of law. Impactful work, that sort of thing.”

“Impactful work doesn’t have to mean the nonprofit sector,” Oscar replied. “The right role, the right mentorship—it’s all about showing someone the potential in places they might overlook.”

Logan frowned thoughtfully, nodding as he mulled it over. “You’ve got a point. I could mention it to her, see what she thinks.”

“Good,” Oscar said simply, turning his gaze back to his monitor.

Logan left a few moments later, clearly still considering the idea.

Oscar stayed seated, tapping his pen lightly against the edge of his desk. It wasn’t much—just a suggestion, an idea planted carefully—but it was enough to start. If Y/N ended up walking through the doors of this building, no longer just a fleeting encounter on a crowded street, it would be because he’d given her the option.

And Oscar Piastri understood the power of giving someone the right option at the right time.

She had been staring at the email on her laptop for what felt like an eternity.

The subject line read: Exciting Opportunity at McLaren Ltd!—a suggestion Logan had dropped in conversation a week ago and followed up with a link to the company’s career portal. At the time, she’d laughed it off, telling him it wasn’t her kind of thing. 

Corporate law? No, thanks.

But now, the cursor blinked at her as if daring her to reconsider.

She sighed, leaning back against the worn cushions of the couch in her quaint apartment. The place wasn’t much—hardly bigger than a shoebox—but it was hers. Her space. The one thing she controlled in a life that sometimes felt like it wasn’t really her own.

The sound of her phone buzzing against the coffee table cut through the silence. She didn’t need to check the screen to know who it was.

“Y/N,” her mother’s voice crackled through the speaker when she answered. “We need to talk.”

Here we go again.

Her mother didn’t waste time. “Your father and I have been discussing things. It’s time you stopped fooling around. You’re graduating soon—what are you going to do with all this law nonsense? Where’s the money? Where’s the stability?”

Y/N pinched the bridge of her nose. “I told you, I’m applying to firms. I’m figuring it out—”

Her mother’s sharp laugh cut her off. “Figuring it out? You’re almost twenty-two, Y/N. By this age, your cousins were either married or already contributing to their families. And you? Still playing student. Still living in that… tiny apartment. It’s embarrassing.”

Her father’s voice joined in the background, muffled but unmistakably critical. “Tell her to stop chasing dreams and start being practical. A real job or a real husband. One or the other.”

The familiar knot tightened in Y/N’s stomach. “I’m not having this conversation again,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady.

“You don’t have a choice,” her mother snapped. “Do you think we can keep helping you forever? The money’s tight as it is. Your brother’s college is coming up, and we need every penny.”

Y/N’s grip on the phone tightened. “I never asked for your money,” she said, her voice quieter now. “I’ve been supporting myself.”

“For now,” her mother said bitterly. “But how long will that last? Face it, Y/N. You need us more than you think.”

The call ended with her mother muttering something about how ungrateful she was.

Y/N sat there for a long moment, staring at her phone.

By the next morning, the idea of McLaren Ltd. wasn’t just a suggestion anymore—it was the only card left to play.

Y/N hesitated before dialing Logan’s number. The thought of taking this job still didn’t sit right with her. It certainly wasn’t what she wanted. But it was a job, and a damn good one at that, with a reputable company and better yet, an actual paycheck. If she could get her foot in the door, it might buy her the time she needed to figure out what she did want without her parents breathing down her neck.

Before she could psych herself out any further, she pressed the call button.

“Hey, Y/N!” Logan answered, his voice chipper. “What’s up?”

“Hi, Logan,” she said, forcing some brightness into her tone. “Um, about that position you mentioned… at McLaren?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure! Have you thought about it?”

“Yeah,” she said, her fingers flicking non-existent dust off the fabric of her pants. “I think… I think I’d like to apply. If the offer’s still open, that is.”

Logan laughed. “Dude, for you? Of course. It’s still open. I told you—you’d be perfect for it. I can help you with the application if you want. I’ll even put in a good word with HR.”

Her chest tightened at his enthusiasm, but she managed a small smile. “Thanks, Logan. That means a lot.”

“Don’t mention it. You’re going to kill it,” he said confidently. 

Logan seemed to believe it enough for the both of them.

As she hung up, she glanced at the email on her laptop again, this time with a mix of determination and resignation. She wasn’t doing this for her parents. Or for Logan, great as he was.

She was doing it because, for once, she needed something to work out—something she could call her own. Even if it wasn’t the perfect fit, it was a start. And maybe, just maybe, it would lead her somewhere she never expected.

[dilemmaontwolegs]

Crazy Forever || LN4

Summary: The truth always comes out in the end. Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, dub/con, dark themes WC: 1.3k F1 Masterlist || Part One (Crazy For you) || Part Two (Crazy For You Too) || Part Three (Crazy For The Three Of Us) || Part Four (Crazy Forever)

“Stay,” Lando begged as he curled an arm around your waist. “I want cuddles.”

“I have to go, I’m going to be late,” you said with a yawn. It had been another bad sleep and you put it down to the lack of sleep tea that used to knock you out cold, but you couldn’t stay in bed all day. “You should get up too, you have to pack for Australia.”

He groaned and he sat up, the blankets fell to his lap as he stretched his arms above his head. “Don’t remind me. You do realise you don’t have to work, love.”

“Don’t, we have been over this, Lan. You already pay for everything and it’s too much. I want to pay for the baby things with my own money.”

“It’s my baby too.”

“It was still my fault,” you mumbled as you left the room. 

You were called into the HR meeting room almost immediately after arriving and you sat down with a frown as your boss avoided all eye contact. 

“What’s going on?” you asked quietly as your palms began to sweat.

Your boss's cheeks turned pink and he slid his phone onto the table, a picture you recognised on the screen. Nausea rolled through you as you slapped your hand over the screen to hide the image but everyone had already seen it. “Where did you get that?”

“You sent it to me.”

“No, I didn’t,” you argued as you covered your mouth. 

“Yes, you did,” he muttered as he took the phone back and showed you the contact number. It was yours, and it was sent while you had been driving to work. “I know you are going through some things but this is unacceptable.”

“No, really, I didn’t send this. I-I don’t know how it happened but it wasn’t me.”

Your boss sighed heavily and looked at the HR manager. “I think it is best if you take the rest of the week off and we will schedule a formal meeting for next Monday. If you decide to hand your notice in before then it will be accepted without this going onto your record.”

You knew what he was saying between the thinly veiled threats and you reached for the small paper bin before retching your breakfast into it. A look of pity came over their faces and a handkerchief floated across the table for you to wipe your lips. “Thank you,” you mumbled as you rose from the table, despite wanting to throw the trash can at them. “I’ll send my resignation through today.”

“It’s for the best this way,” he said as he deleted the nude photo Lando had begged for when he was away testing in Bahrain. He had promised it was just for him, because he missed you so much.

You really shouldn’t have driven home in your state. You could hardly see the road through the humiliating tears that streamed down your face. 

“Lando?” 

You sighed with relief when you found the apartment empty as you weren’t sure you could face him at that moment. You didn’t know how he had done it, or why, but there was no one else who had the picture.

You would have sold your soul for a drink as you changed out of your work clothes and flopped onto the bed feeling miserable. You would have stayed there if it wasn’t for your phone vibrating with a notification, and you noticed an echo coming from Lando’s closet. You climbed over the bed and opened the door, listening for any other sound. It was quiet, but you heard it coming from under his clothes drawers. 

You tugged at the panel of wood and it popped off easily to reveal a mess of power cords, clothes and bags of powders squirrelled away. Shuffling around deeper, you saw a screen light up at the bottom and saw the notification that was mirrored on your phone. You reached for beyond the set of keys that matched your car and old apartment, right down to the cheap Eiffel Tower replica key ring.

“What the fuck…”

“I really wish you didn’t see that.”

You slammed the panel shut but it was too late, Lando was standing in the doorway to the room with his arms crossed over his chest. He had stolen it, the phone you had lost, the one you had replaced, it had been in his possession this whole time. All your social media profiles, iMessages, everything was at his disposal - even your period tracking app.

He had stolen everything you thought you lost. Keys, clothes, chargers. He even stole your perfume. You thought you were going crazy, but he had been orchestrating it all.

Tugging the panel away, you grabbed the clear bag of white powder and sniffed it. It had the same sickly sweet scent as the lemon and ginger tea he made. Grabbing another, you felt ill as it had the same relaxing aroma as the chamomile tea he used to make each night, the one that put you in a deep sleep.

“You roofied me?” You wanted to sound angry and bitter but you only sounded broken as you dropped the bags.

“You’re my girlfriend, why would I drug you?” he snickered as he walked into the room, taking the bags and flushing them down the toilet in the ensuite. “With what drugs?”

“You got me fired…why are you doing this to me?” It felt like déjà-vu and you were sure that you had this conversation before. Smacking the sides of your head you screamed as you tried to remember. Why couldn’t you remember?

“Hey, shhhh,” Lando soothed as he caught your hands and lowered them to your sides. You struggled against his hold as he wrapped you in his arms but he was too strong. “I just wanted you to be free to travel with me. Now we don’t have to be apart, ever.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” you growled as you tried to wriggle out of his hold. “This is insane, you’re fucking crazy!”

He released you as abruptly as he had caught you and you held your hands up as you backed away. You needed space, from him and the situation, you needed time to think.

“Where are you going?” he chuckled as he followed you out of the room, each of his strides longer than yours.

“Anywhere you aren’t.” He overtook you in the hall.

“You know I can’t let you go.” He blocked the door and slid the bolt across before facing you. “You’re carrying my child, you’re not leaving. You have no job, no house, no friends. You need me.”

Hopelessness fell over you and you hung your head in shame. “I wish I never met you.”

His laugh tickled your cheek as he embraced you again, his hand spreading wide over the back of your head and guiding your face to the crook of his neck. “No, you don’t,” he murmured into your hair. “You’re just angry, and that’s okay. We’ll get through this rough patch together and you’ll realise what a blessing this is. You and me, our baby, together, forever.”

“Forever?” you echoed in defeat.

“Forever. You’ll never want for anything, baby. Whatever you want you can have, I’ll make sure you are treated like a princess.”

“The kind that gets locked up in a tower?”

He laughed and kissed your forehead sweetly. “Only if you try to leave me. But you’re not going to try something silly like that are you, love?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat and shook your head. He was right, you needed him. He could provide for you and the child you carried, so you would behave.

“I won’t,” you whispered as your shoulders slumped.

“That’s my girl. I knew I chose right,” he hummed happily. “None of those other women could have been you.”

Cold dread shivered down your spine. “What women?”

“The others that applied to rent my apartment,” he said as pulled back to look into your eyes, a dark smile on his lips. “The one I own next door.”

[moraxine]

Flicker in The Storm [Gojo Satoru]

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

words: 1.6k

genre: smuttish ig

summary: as much as you hate Satoru, you do tend to enjoy his little teasings. so much that you get jealous when you see him with Shoko.

The engine of the car hummed low, a steady pulse battling the silence of Jujutsu High’s empty parking lot. Rain streaked the windshield, blurring the world outside into a smear of shadow and light. It would be a peaceful scenery under different circumstances, enticing even.

You sat in the passenger seat, arms crossed, staring straight ahead, the tension between you and Satoru Gojo thick enough to choke on. His hands gripped the steering wheel, knuckles white, and that damn blindfold pushed up into his hair, revealing eyes that glinted in the dark—sharp, knowing, all knowing, perhaps.

You could never escape him. Physically, mentally. It’s almost like he had a great hold on you, an inexplicable attraction that pulled you toward him more and more each time.

And it absolutely fucking terrified you.

“Are you going to talk, or just sulk all the way home?” His voice was light, slightly teasing, but there was an edge to it, a crack in his usual cockiness.

You didn’t answer, just shifted, the leather creaking under you. The mere thought of sharing what was tormenting your mind would be enough to make you explode. He sighed, loud and dramatic, and killed the engine. “Fine. We’re not moving ‘til you spill it.”

You glared at him. He was a good reader, of course he was. And the heat of his presence…Too close, too much, it was prickling your skin. Hell, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to end. You’d stayed late in the faculty office, grading papers, most importantly avoiding him.

You should have expected that he’d catch you anyway, leaning in the doorway with that infuriating grin, offering a ride home. You didn’t even notice he was still there until this late. It wasn’t common of him to do so either, which only made matters worse. Now here you were, utterly trapped with him, jealousy you hadn’t named burning a hole in your chest. But you wouldn’t dare admit it.

~

The staff room smelled of burnt coffee, so comforting and relaxing in contrast to the student chaos outside. This was your natural habitat. You leaned against the counter, stirring sugar into your mug, when Gojo swaggered in, late as always, his white hair a mess, blindfold dangling around his neck like a fucking scarf.

“Morning, sunshine,” he drawled, snatching your coffee and taking a sip before you could protest. “Still bitter, huh? Matches your grading style.”

You extended your arm snatched it back, spilling a drop on his sleeve. “Maybe if you actually taught instead of flirting with the students, I wouldn’t have to fix your mess.”

He grinned, wiping the spill with a finger and licking it off— not sure if it was deliberate, but it was definitely obnoxious. “Flirting? Nah, I’m just charming. You should try it sometime—might loosen that stick up your ass.”

Oh that was not…

“Charming’s not the word I’d use,” you shot back, leaning closer, voice dropping. “More like a walking HR violation.”

“Only if you report me,” he reminded you in a singing tone, winking, his breath brushing your cheek. “Which we both know you won’t.“

You rolled your eyes, shoving past him, but the heat on your cheeks betrayed you. It was always like this—roasting each other until the air crackled, a game you both played too well. Until today.

~

You’d seen it from the training field window— Satoru, laughing too loud, too close to Shoko, her hand brushing his arm as they talked. It was nothing, probably. Shoko was Shoko—dry, detached, definitely not the type to flirt. But the way he tilted his head, the way she smirked back, it twisted something in you, sharp and ugly until it almost hurt. And you hated it, hated that it mattered, hated him and hated yourself for making it matter.

You avoided Satoru after that. Skipped the staff meeting, buried yourself in tormenting lesson plans, let his texts—“Where you at?” “You dead or just mad?”—pile up unanswered. He’d noticed, of course—he always did—but you didn’t care. Not until now at least, stuck in his car, the rainy night and his presence both pressing in around you.

~

“Why have you been dodging me?” he asked, turning to face you fully, one arm slung over the wheel. His tone was still playful, but his eyes weren’t—they pinned you, relentless. “Two whole days of radio silence. What’d I do this time?”

“Nothing,” you lied, staring at the rain. “Just busy.”

“Bullshit.” He reached out, fingers grazing your jaw, forcing you to look at him. “You’re a terrible liar, y/n. Always have been.”

No, that was too close, so close your ears started ringing.

You jerked away, heart pounding. “Don’t touch me.”

“Why not?” He leaned closer, teasing long gone now. “You didn’t mind before. What’s changed?”

Before. By before he meant the roasting, the brushes of contact, the unspoken thing between you that never crossed the line but danced pretty damn close. Or maybe he meant something else—something you wouldn’t allow yourself to consider. You shoved at his chest, more reflex than reason, and he caught your wrist, holding it tight.

“Talk,” he said, softer now, but firm. “Or I’ll sit here all fucking night.”

Unable to bear the suffocating atmosphere and wanting nothing more but to go home and fucking cry, the words came spilling out before you could stop them. “I saw you with Shoko. Laughing, flirting, whatever. Looked cozy.”

He blinked for a few moments, probably allowing the information to settle in, then laughed—a sharp, incredulous sound that made you want to punch him. “Shoko? You’re jealous of Shoko? She was telling me about a corpse she dissected. You’re right, real romantic stuff.”

Your face burned like embers, embarrassment warring with relief. “Didn’t look like that from where I was.”

“Yeah?” He let go of your wrist, but didn’t move back, his thigh brushing yours in the tight space. “So you’ve been stewing over me and Shoko, huh? That’s cute.”

This was what you wanted to avoid. You knew Satoru, you’d been around him long enough to know how he acted and how you somehow always ended up being one of his victims. He lacked social awareness and it pissed you off.

“Shut up,” you snapped, shoving him again, harder. He didn’t budge—just grinned, catching your hands and pinning them against the seat, his body leaning over yours now.

You couldn’t take it anymore. All this mixture of anger, attraction, bottled up emotions hidden well until now…

Oh, just fuck it.

“Make me,” he said, voice a low challenge, setting the breaking point. You surged forward, kissing him—angry, messy, all teeth and frustration. He groaned into it, surprised for half a second before kissing you back just as fierce, his hands releasing yours to grip your waist, pulling you closer.

~

It’d been a late night then too, the faculty lounge empty except for you and him, arguing over a mission debrief. “You’re reckless,” you’d said, jabbing a finger at his chest. “One day, that ego’s gonna get you killed.”

“And you’re a control freak,” he’d fired back, stepping into your space, towering over you. “Maybe you should loosen up—live a little.”

You’d laughed, sharp and mean. “With you? I’d rather fight a curse blindfolded.”

“Sure, but I bet I’d make it fun,” he’d said, smirking, and you’d shoved him, playful but hard, his back hitting the wall. He’d grabbed your arm, pulling you close, and for a moment, you’d both frozen—breaths mingling, tension thick—before you’d stepped back, muttering, “Idiot,” and left. Those moments lingered by a thread neither of you pulled.

~

Clothes didn’t come off—they couldn’t, not fully, not in the cramped front seat. Your jacket hit the passenger seat, his shirt stayed on, half-unbuttoned as you straddled him, the steering wheel digging into your back. His hands were rough, tugging your pants down just enough, your underwear as well as he pressed himself against you, hot and hard through his own unzipped jeans.

“You’re insane,” you gasped, nails digging into his shoulders, the rain drumming louder outside.

“And you’re here,” he murmured, lips on your neck, teeth grazing. “Guess what that makes you.”

He thrust up, sudden and deep, and you bit your lip to stifle a cry, the car rocking slightly with the force. It was messy—his hands bruising your hips, your thighs squeezing his, the windows fogging as your breaths mingled, sharp and uneven. He moved fast, relentless, each thrust pushing you harder against the wheel, the friction a jagged edge of pain and pleasure.

“Jealous, huh?” he teased, voice rough, one hand sliding under your shirt, fingers splaying across your skin. “Over me?”

“Shut—up,” you managed, kissing him again to stop the words, tasting the smirk on his lips. He groaned, pace faltering, and you felt him tense, the heat of him overwhelming as you clenched around him, chasing your own release.

It hit you sudden and sharp—silent, trembling, your head falling back as he followed, a low curse spilling from him as he gripped you tighter, spilling into you with a shudder. Soon enough the car went still, just the rain and your ragged breathing filling the space.

He didn’t let go, hands resting on your thighs, forehead pressed to yours. “Still mad?” he asked, voice hoarse, a faint grin tugging at his mouth.

You laughed, shaky, shoving at his chest. “You’re impossible.”

“Good,” he said, kissing you again—soft this time, lingering. “Keeps you coming back.”

You climbed off him, awkward in the tight space, pulling your stuff together as he fixed his own, that smug look back in place. The rain had slowed, a drizzle now, and he started the engine, glancing at you.

“Home?” he asked, casual, like nothing had happened.

“Yeah,” you said, staring out the window, the heat in your cheeks a quiet confession.

You knew this wasn’t the end—not with him.

Not ever.

[marvelslut16]

Field Day

Prompt number: 27 "Let me remind you"

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Teacher!Bucky x teacher!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: T(een)

Word count: 1.1k+

Warnings: Swearing, a stupid hr policy based off a policy at one of my jobs, a horny woman at work, I think that's it.

A/N: Hi, hello, it's been ages since I posted a fic, and this is 2 days late late. I really really want to participate again this year, but I have 2 jobs now and I have some other important things happening this month, so I won't have much time to write. But without further ado, here is day 1!

“Let me remind you that we aren’t allowed to date coworkers,” you sigh, as Peggy tells you that you should finally give into your work crush and go on a date with Bucky.

Bucky is the sweetest soul you have ever met, he’s a little shy but once he warms up to you he’s just a giant teddy bear who will do whatever he can to make your life easier. He’s been your work crush for about a year now, when he switched from second to fourth grade, the grade you teach. Now you have department meetings together, teach science labs together, and go on field trips together. His sweet personality and the forced proximity made it impossible not to develop a work crush on him.

“Technically we can date coworkers, it’s just frowned upon,” Peggy tries to play devil’s advocate, hoping that her friends will finally get over themselves and go on a date. 

“Oh yes, Bucky and I can date so long as we report it to HR the moment we go on a date, and they can still decide to fire one or both of us,” you roll your eyes and give your best friend a look before turning back to the playground to watch the kids. “Isn’t that why you waited to start dating Steve until he went to teach at the military academy.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Peggy giggles, just as Bucky lets his kids out his classroom door to join yours and Peggy’s for field day. 

“What are you two gals talking about,” Bucky saunters over to where you're standing near enough to the playground to see the kids, but far enough from them that they can’t hear what you're saying. 

“I was telling her that she should start packing her lunch instead of going out on Wednesday and Friday, much healthier. And obviously, she called me on the fact that Steve sends me lunch from restaurants most of the week,” Peggy smoothly lies. It’s a decent enough fib, but if you were Bucky you wouldn’t believe her. 

So where did you end up getting stuck for field day?” you ask Bucky, he was sick the day of sign ups no doubt being stuck with the worst job. 

“The dunk tank, damn Stevie leaving the school and leaving me with this stupid job,” Steve always volunteered to do the dunk tank, and now that he’s gone the entire staff quickly snapped up every other position. “What do you have this year?”

“The inflatable obstacle course,” you grin widely, you’d been petitioning the PTA to allocate funds to rent one for field day for the past three years now.

“I told you you could convince those parents to let you rent one, and the kids are going to love it!” you can’t help but blush at his praise. 

“Third times the charm,” you give him a small bashful smile.

“I’m in charge of dodgeball in the gym,” Peggy cuts in, reminding you that you aren’t alone and have an audience of almost a hundred kids as more classes spill out of their rooms.  

Soon enough the three of you go your separate ways and get field day started. Like every year, the day flies with minimal complaining from the kids, lots of laughing, and just a few scrapes and bruises. The kids all loved your addition to the course this year, all cheering in excitement when they get to your station. Before you know it your class is back at your station and field day is wrapping up, so you take the kids to the refreshments table to grap a dixie cup off gatorade and a cookie. 

“Oh dear god,” you murmur under your breath, catching Peggy’s attention as she walks up to the table with her class. 

Bucky’s also walking up to the refreshment table sopping wet, black t-shirt and basketball shorts clinging to his rock hard physique. Bucky is an attractive man, anyone who disagreed was either lying or blind, so this wasn’t a new revelation to you by any means. But knowing he has abs is one thing, but seeing his shirt clinging to them is a completely different one. Your heart starts to hammer harder and harder the closer he gets to you, damn Peggy had to get in your head about your crush earlier and you’re on the edge of  throwing caution to the wind, and yourself at him. 

“What were those rules again,” Peggy whispers, giggling in your ear. 

“Can’t remember,” your voice trails off just like your thoughts. It’s unreal and unfair that Bucky could be as nice and as drop dead gorgeous as he is. No man could ever live up to him, and you pity everyone that dares to try. 

“Only one person dunked me, and it was one of yours,” Bucky says gruffly, the twinkling in his eyes gives away his humor and pride in the student.

“One of mine?” you grin from ear to ear, your own pride showing at your student. One of your little fourth headers was able to dunk him, when the older kids couldn’t. “Who was it?”

“Me!” Brayden, your secret favorite student, hollers from behind you.

“Way to go Brayden!” you exclaim, the rest of your class cheering as you give him a high five. 

“It was hilarious,” Luke, one of Bucky’s students pipes up. “We were at the human wheelbarrow station next to the dunk tank and we saw everything! One minute he was on the seat, and the next he was coming up from the water coughing on it.” 

“Are you okay, Mr. Barnes?” you giggle, turning to look at him. It takes everything in you to keep your eyes on his, something the other female staff aren’t doing themselves. 

“I will be, once my ego heals,” your two classes laughing at his joke. 

“Do you want to come over for dinner tonight? I’m making my chili that you love so much,” you ask Bucky when the kids are out of hearing range. Peggy stares at you wide eyed, it’s like she can hear your inner monologue, in awe of your bravery and taking this chance. 

“I would love to,” Bucky has a soft smile on his face, like he’s sensing that everything is about to change for the better. Fuck HR, and fuck this job if it keeps you from being happy and with the man of your dreams. As long as you have Bucky everything will be okay, and you’ll both land on your feet eventually, even if it means finding a new district. 

[inevitably-johnlocked]

Hi Steph!!! 💜💜💜 I was hoping you could help me find some fics with John as an active medical doctor or E.R. nurse?? Ideally when (or how) he meets Sherlock? *eyebrow wiggle*

Not sure where the urge comes from, but just have a hankering for some hospital shenanigans, haha.

Ty babes!!! 🫶 - Liri

JOHN IS CURRENTLY A DOCTOR

Hey Liri!!!!

Oooo good question!! First off, of course I will rec these probably-John-related-medical-themed fics:

John at the Surgery

Doctor / Caretaker John

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 2

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 3

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 4

Doctor / Caretaker John Pt. 5

Quarantine / Lockdown / Pandemic (MFL’s)

Coronavirus / CoVID-19 (MFLs)

Then, I have a few where he meets Sherlock as a doctor, though I haven't read them I don't believe... from a tag search and quickly skimming the descriptions. I know I've probably missed a tonne or effed up somewhere, but I'd love to make another list, so if anyone has more for Liri, let me know <3

BOOKMARKS

Non-Toxic by NinjaNina2 (M, 1,713 w., 1 Ch. || Post S4, Parentlock with Rosie, Established Relationship, Oneshot, Stubborn Sherlock, Worried John, Doctor John, Fluff and Humour, Misunderstandings)  – Based on previous experiences, John has every right to be worried when gone for a medical conference, but what is the extent of damage This time…?!?

Q 1 HR by stillwaters01 (G, 1,795 w., 1 Ch. || New Year's Eve, Hurt/Comfort, BAMF John, Friendship, Doctor John) – On New Year’s Eve, Sherlock discovers that sometimes it’s the seemingly innocuous, rather than life-threatening, conditions that can keep John from The Work. And John is reminded just how deeply their friendship runs.

Excerpts from Purgatory by reapersun, what_alchemy (E, 5,829 w., 1 Ch. || Post-TRF, Doctor John, Reunion Fic, Rough Sex, Angry Sex, Bottomlock, Fic with Pics)  – John serves community service in homeless shelters for chinning the superintendent. Unbeknownst to him, the Homeless Network has his back.

And A Doctor by stillwaters01 (T, 24,962 w., 6 Ch. || Five and One, BAMF John, Hurt/Comfort, Doctor John, Friendship, Character Study) – It was only when people actually saw John working as a physician that they began to understand: that it wasn’t just about bullets and IEDs and trauma care under fire. That “doctor” actually covered a pretty wide field. And that John was bloody good at covering ground. 5 times Dr. Watson treated others and 1 time he treated himself.

Turn Left at the Park by Glenmore (NR (E), 37,409 w., 28 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting / ASiP Divergence, Case Fic, Depression, Suicidal Ideation, Loneliness, No Mary, Possessive Sherlock, Fluff & Angst, Nightmares/PTSD, Sherlock Saves John, Sherlock Whump-ish, Doctor John) – So what would have happened if John hadn't walked through the park and met Stamford? What if, instead, he walked around the park and just went home?

Points by lifeonmars (E, 53,791 w., 42 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || HLV Rewrite / Canon Divergence, Married Life, Pregnancy / Baby Watson, Drinking to Cope, Boxing / Fisticuffs, Clueless John, Angst, Minor Medical Drama, Tattoos, Christmas, First Kiss/Time, Eventual Happy Ending, Love Confessions, Doctor John, Sexuality Crisis, Slow Burn, Case Fic, Drugging, Blow/Hand Job, Emotional Love Making, Parenthood, Passage of Time) – What if His Last Vow never happened? This fic picks up a few months after John and Mary's wedding, in an alternate universe where Magnussen doesn't exist, but Mary is still pregnant. Life continues -- just in a different direction. And slowly, Sherlock and John find their way to each other.

Realigning Gravity Series by Raina_at (E, 69,159+ w. across 2 works || Series WiP || Sci-Fi / 24th Century Future AU || Post TRF, Cybernetic John, Estrangement, Reconciliation, Developing Relationship, Anniversary, Case Fic, Happy Endings, Doctor John) – Two years ago, Sherlock Holmes jumped off the roof of New London Hospital. Two months ago, he walked into John's clinic as if no time had passed at all. John hasn't seen him since. But then Sherlock knocks on John's door with a case he can't say no to, and while figuring out why the biggest manufacturer or synthetic limbs in the System is going after veterans, they also need to find out whether there's a way to fix what's broken between them.

A Further Sea by i_ship_an_armada & ShinySherlock (E, 125,492 w., 23 Ch. || Historical Pirates AU || Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Doctor John / Pirate Captain Sherlock, Sailing, UST / RST, Masturbation, Action / Adventure, Mild Angst & Peril, Romance, Shaving, Molly/Janine, Bottomlock, Hand / Blow Jobs, Past Drug Use, Slow Burn, Mild Violence, Facial Shaving, Happy Ending) – Here be a tale of adventure for both body and soul, but beware if ye be not of stout heart, for this be piratelock, ya savvy? Luckless ship's surgeon John Watson takes a chance, and finds himself eye to eye with The Ghost, the scourge of the seven seas and a definite thorn in the side of the blaggard, James Moriarty. But when John finds there's more to this most cunning pirate than be meetin' the eye, he has to choose... is it a pirate's life for him?

Proving A Point by elldotsee & J_Baillier (E, 186,270 w., 28 Ch. || PODFIC AVAILABLE || Me Before You Fusion || Medical Realism, Insecure John, Depression, Romance, Angst, POV John, Sherlock Whump, Serious Illness, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Assisted Suicide, Sherlock’s Violin, Awkward Sexual Situations, Alcoholism, Drugs, Idiots in Love, Slow Burn, Body Image, Friends to Lovers, Hurt / Comfort, Pain, Big Brother Mycroft, Intimacy, Anxiety, PTSD, Family Issues, Psychological Trauma, John Whump, Case Fics, Loneliness, Pain) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court. Part 1 of the Care And Companionship series

MARKED FOR LATER

Take me to Baker Street by MorganeUK (G, 2,087 w., 1 Ch. || Adult Ballet AU || Ballet Dancer Sherlock, Doctor John, Song Fic, Pre-Slash) – I always loved Sergei Polunin interpretation of Take me to the church so I decided to write a version where Sherlock is a ballet dancer in serious need of a doctor…

A Doctor's Touch by my_dear_man (E, 3,275 w., 1 Ch. || ACD Canon || First Time, Taking Care, Sick Sherlock, Hand Jobs, Fluff and Angst, Blow Jobs, Love Confessions, Hallucinations, Guilt, Emotional Hurt / Comfort, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Angst with a Happy Ending) – "I will be there, you may be sure. "I was ill at that time but not on the brink of my death bed, a nasty flu was the case, and yet, he came by to our old rooms, like the good doctor that he is and ever will be.

Fugue (n.) by reyiosa (NR [G], 3,281 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate Universe || Post-TRF, Hospital, Hallucinations, Coma, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, It Was All A Dream) – A Sherlock AU were it turns out Sherlock has made up his whole life with John as a consulting detective while stuck in a coma caused by an overdose. The real John is just a kind doctor at the hospital that sits by Sherlock’s bed and reads him detective stories.

John Hamish Watson Lestrade by MidnightMonster (G, 4,731 w., 1 Ch. || John is Lestrade's Son || ASiP, Alternate First Meeting, Older Sherlock, Younger John, POV Sherlock, Protective John) – John is Lestrade's son and is 23 years old training to be a doctor and planning to be an army-doctor. Greg's concern about John being a soldier however is pushed into the background when a new problem presents itself. Sherlock Holmes. He is worried that Sherlock will hurt John or get hurt because of him in some way. But despite his concerns and efforts of keeping them apart it seems that they can't be kept away from each other.

Wretched and Divine by meet_me_in_samarra (M, 5,130 w., 1 Ch. || Punk AU || Pining John, Seductive Sherlock, Slow Burn, Sherlock is a Doctor, Implied / Referenced Drug Use) – Dr. John Watson is on call at the A&E when he attempts to treat a very special patient. Instead he finds himself a very special treat. Part 1 of the Wretched and Divine series

Practically Perfect by vitruvianwatson (E, 6,303 w., 1 Ch. || Sugar Daddy AU || Age Difference, Younger Sherlock, Older John, Finger Fucking, Anal Sex, Hand Jobs, Office Sex, Emotionally Insecure Sherlock, Barista Sherlock, Doctor John, PWP) – There was a knock on the door, and then it opened. John shook the thoughts out of his head and looked up with his fake “I’m your kindly doctor” smile plastered on his face, but a second later his jaw dropped because his “patient” wasn’t a patient at all. It was none other than Sherlock bloody Holmes. Not only that, but he was dressed in one of his more indecent outfits—skin tight jeans that looked like they’d been bloody painted on, and a purple button-down that was straining, to say the least, to remain buttoned. John wondered if he’d worked at the coffee shop in that outfit today. He shut the door and leaned back against it with a wicked smile, and John heard the click of the lock.

The Curious Incident of the Detective, the Doctor and the Dogs in the Night by mydogwatson (T, 7,652 w., 1 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || Dogs, First Kiss, Honeymoon) – A meet-cute. Dogs and cases and romance. [TRANSLATION: Русский]

Not Your Doctor, Not Your Captain by weneedtotalkaboutsherlock (E, 8,645 w., 1 Ch. || AU || Daddy John, Barista Sherlock, Legal Age Difference, First Kiss/Time, Blow Jobs, Texting/Phone Sex, Anal, Rimming, Felching, Praise Kink, Hurt/Comfort, Pet Names, Doctor John) – "Coffee for John Watson," a voice calls, a low, deep rumble that sends a shiver down John's spine. The thought is pushed aside, his shoulders sagging at the sight of his long-awaited coffee. "Thank God." His eyes lock with long, elegant fingers around the rim of the cup, dimpling the carton in a way that John can only describe as sensual. It shouldn't be. It's seven-thirty in the bloody morning. "I'm afraid that God had not much to do in making your coffee this morning," the barista replies. "I, on the other hand…"

The Full Package by Kalimyre (E, 9,675 w., 3 Ch. || Omegaverse || First Time, Sex Toys, Virginity, Doctor John) – Kinkmeme fill. The clinic where John works caters specifically to Omegas experiencing their first heat. They provide top of the line service, and do anything necessary to ease their patients' discomfort. Omega!Sherlock is his latest patient.

Quid Pro Quo by J_Baillier (T, 10,035 w., 3 Ch. || Alternate Professions ||  Doctor John, Medical Conditions, Developing Relationship, Bisexual John, Sherlock’s Violin, Minor Injuries) – John Watson is a sports surgeon who thought he was at peace with his career choices but this morning, he's meeting a new patient who might just break the brittle life balance John has constructed.

Iris by Leloi (E, 11,302 w., 1 Ch. || Omegaverse || Time Travel, Mpreg, Infertility, Virgin Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Established Relationship, Omega Sherlock, Jealous Sherlock) –John Watson was quickly learning to hate the Victorian Era. It wasn’t just the lack of proper medical care… Although that was a rather large component. It was the filth. It was the misery and the lack of regard for human life. Ok… So maybe the lack of proper medical care was a major component. It was difficult being a 21st century medical doctor stuck with 19th century technology. There was some sort of time travel involved. The really strange part is that there was a past version of himself living with a past version of Sherlock Holmes. Ok… So maybe that wasn’t the strangest part either. He seemed to be stuck in an alternate universe.

Assistance Required by Soft_Light (E, 12,162 w., 4 Ch. || PWP, Viagra, Sleepy Sherlock, Sleepy Cuddle, Doctor John, Hurt Sherlock, Developing Relationship, Bisexual John, Demisexual Sherlock, Virgin Sherlock, Hair Playing, What Boundaries, It’s an Experiment) – Sherlock takes Viagra for an experiment. You can probably guess a lot of what happens next.

Transference by Jean Elizabeth (E, 16,846 w., 6 Ch. || Mental Hospital AU || Schizophrenic Sherlock, Psychologist John, Paranoia, Affairs, Friendship, Sexual Tension, Forbidden Love, Pining John, Sherlock’s Feelings, Sick Sherlock, Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Angst and Humour, Sherlock/Victor, Dev. Rel. Johnlock) – Sherlock Holmes has been admitted to a mental institution for paranoid schizophrenia. He is assigned to psychologist Doctor John Watson who he inevitably begins a love affair with. John must wrestle with his guilt in putting not only his job, but Sherlock's mental well-being, in danger. Sherlock struggles with his mental disorder while living in a confining and controlling environment. So much angst and pain that can only be dulled one night a week.

keywords: Gay, Loving, Boyfriends by lookupkate (E, 17,771 w., 17 Ch. || Doctor John AU || Alternate First Meeting, Hospitals, John Writes Smut, Sherlock Reads Smut Fanfiction) – John starts writing gay romance while holed up in hospital. Sherlock reads the first fic on accident, and it sticks with him for days. He can't help but read more from the unknown writer. Little does he know, the writer isn't exactly unknown to him. The writer happens to be the A&E Doctor he's feuding with. Christ, can you imagine what he'll think once he finds out? 

Hello, Hamish by Norma_de_Plume (M, 23,833 w., 18 Ch. || John/OMC and Johnlock || Pre-TRF, Fluff, Idiots in Love, Confused John, Mild Knife Violence, First Kiss/Time, Friends to Lovers, Jealous Sherlock, Doctor John, Mutual Pining, Scheming Sherlock, Possessive Sherlock, BAMF John, Hurt / Comfort) – John and Sherlock never imagined that their relationship could ever be more than flatmates and best friends. Hoped, perhaps...but... *ahem* Could one person change that? What if someone else had their eye on Dr. Watson? What if it wasn't a woman?

The Scientist's Method by spacemutineer (T, 26,607 w., 7 Ch. || ACD / Granada Holmes Canon || Angst with Happy Ending, Hurt / Comfort, Time Loop, Blood / Injury, Doctor John, Developing Relationship, BAMF John, Temporary Character Death, Guilt, Drug Use / Addiction, Grief / Mourning, Friendship / Love) – Sherlock Holmes has always known the world through the straightforward lenses of evidence, logic, and reasoning. But when Watson is caught in a tragic preventable disaster, his trusted clear lines of reality start to shift and blur, and the scientist detective begins to piece together a grand discovery far beyond even his exceptional imagination. Detection is a way of learning and science is a way of knowing, but as Sherlock Holmes is about to realise, love is a way of understanding.

When We Were Young by Calais_Reno (T, 27,230 w., 10 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting AU || First Love, Nostalgia, Pre and Post TRF, Doctor John, Angst with Happy Ending) – John and Sherlock met at school, and were a bit more than friends. But they didn't stay in touch afterwards. Life goes on, and when John returns from Afghanistan, he takes a position at Barts as a trauma specialist, working in the Emergency Department. As he reports for work one day, a man jumps off the roof of the hospital. John's world tilts on its axis.

We'll Meet Again by isitandwonder (E, 29,306 w., 7 Ch. || 1940′s WWII AU || Semi-Public Sex, Blow / Hand Jobs, Anal Sex, Period-Typical Homophobia, Love Letters, Prolonged Separation, Implied/Referenced Rape, Epistolary, War Crimes, Infidelity, Reunion Sex, Magical Realism, Ghosts, Suicide, Sad with Happy Ending) – London during WW II: Doctor John Watson has a hot, anonymous brief encounter with a beautiful stranger during blackout. But they get interrupted. Will they ever meet again? Bittersweet Johnlock WWII AU with a twist to the present day in the end.

No Power of Mind by ab_initio (M, 29,436 w., 12 Ch. || Mental Hospital AU || Sherlock Sees Dead People, Mystrade) – On Monday, it's the Woman. Tuesday brings Henry Knight. Wednesday is Magnussen. Greg is Thursday followed by Moriarty on Friday. Sherlock see dead people in his palace of white. When Mycroft hires Doctor John Watson to take care of Sherlock, Sherlock wonders how long this doctor will last. As time passes, the doctor-patient relationship drifts away and Sherlock's visions begin to take control. As his sanity slips away, John tries to hold on and bring Sherlock back from the depths of his mind.

A Doctor in the House by KittenKin (T, 32,394 w., 24 Ch. || TEH Fix It, Hurt/Comfort, Doctor John, Love Confessions, Slow Burn, First Kiss) – A replacement for Series 3 Episode 1 of BBC's "Sherlock", because my John would never. Part 1 of the A Doctor in the House series

To Help Another by DrFish (E, 38,898 w., 20 Ch. || Omegaverse || Rape/Non-Con, Omega Sherlock, Alpha John, BAMF John, Hurt/Comfort, Medical Procedures, Mating Cycles, Bonding, Non-Con Drugs, Violence, Knotting, Oral Sex, Past Sexual Abuse, Illness, Doctor John, Case Fic, Come Inflation, Porn With Plot, Vulnerable Sherlock, Pillows and Blanket Forts, Nightmares, Kidnapping, Grief/Mourning, First Time, Virgin Sherlock, Dirty Talk, Discipline) – Dr. John Watson has been invalided out of the Army and he is struggling to come to terms with what's left of his life. When he agrees to help out with a difficult case at the hospital where he works as an emergency room physician, he not only saves this particular abused omega and others like him, but he discovers a new and better life for himself in the process.

The Montague Street Doctor by The_Circus (T, 61,488 w., 13 Ch. || Post-TRF, ACD Canon-Feeling Relationship, Gen/No Slash, Montague Street, Doctor John, Care in the Community, Reunion) – Just because Sherlock stopped, doesn't mean the Work has to. London is John's city now and he will keep it together with stitching, string, his healing, the food off his table, and sometimes the clothes off his back. John Watson keeps going. He's good at that.

A Telling Touch by MiyakoToudaiji (E, 91,656 w., 28 Ch. || Post-TRF Divergence, Reunion, Hurt/Comfort, Drama, Soldier John, Friends to Lovers, BAMF John, Doctor John, War, Syria, Violence, Blood, Injury, Fighting, Soulmates, True Love, First Kiss / Time, Slow Build, Romance, Christmas, Family, Holmes Manor, Childhood Memories, Sherlock’s Violin, Case Fic) – After Sherlock’s death, John manages to get himself re-enlisted and is sent back to war. But when two series of gruesome murders link home and outland together, John is suddenly faced with more battles than he could have imagined.  

You Go To My Head Series by 7PercentSolution and J_Baillier (E, 987,192 w. across 23 Works || Surgeon AU || Medical Realism, Autism Spectrum, Anaesthetist John / Neurosurgeon Sherlock, Friends to Lovers, Pining, Addiction, Angst, Slow Burn, PTSD, Pining, Insecurity, Additional Tags Under Link) – This series is an alternate universe one, featuring the exciting medical and romantic adventures of doctors Watson and Holmes.

WORKS IN PROGRESS

How They Move In Silence by Breath4Soul (M, 5,186 w., 4/? Ch. || WiP || Doctor John, Doctor/Patient, Voiceless Sherlock, Sick Sherlock, Texting) – Sherlock loses his voice and has to communicate through texts which leads to love confessions.

we are more than the footnotes my love by poechild (T, 17,874+ w., 1 of 2 Ch. || Alternate First Meeting, Unilock, Drug Addict Sherlock, Caring / Doctor John, Protective John, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-ASiP, Pining John, Massage, Shaving, Hurt Sherlock, Concussions, Drug Withdrawal) – A druggie kisses John on the street then steals his wallet. John, of course, takes him home.

20,000 leagues under the sea: A Victorian Sherlock AU by MorganeUK (G, 30,544+ w., 15/? Ch || Victorian Steampunk AU || WiP || Scientist Sherlock, Submarines) – The Holmes Brothers are living under the sea, protected from the world violence and general stupidity… Alone, with only a small crew, they explore the world inside their submersible. Perfectly satisfied and unaware of their loneliness, until they meet Captain Lestrade and Doctor Watson from the Royal Navy.

Only Yesterday by Berty (T, 47,530+ w., 18/20 Ch. || WiP || Alternate Timelines / 'Yesterday' AU || Post-TRF, POV John, Grief, Mental Instability, Angst, Unrequited Love, Suspense, Scotland, Hurt John, Developing Relationship, Doctor John, John is a Mess) – Sherlock has been gone for two years and John Watson is doing okay. He goes to work. He sleeps (sometimes). He eats. He has colleagues, some of whom are even friends. He has purpose. If it's not a life as others might view it, it's a fair approximation. It's fine. He's fine. One night the lights go out and when they come back on everything is the same except for one important thing. For John it's the most important thing. And suddenly John is not fine at all.

Vampires In London Series by Madam_Fandom (E, 148,590+ w. across 4 works || Series WiP || Vampire AU || Vampire Sherlock, Psychic/Empath John, Mutual Pining, Blood Drinking, Feeding, Jealousy, Angst, Implied / Referenced Rape/Non Con, Graphic Violence, Past Abuse, Sexual Abuse, Physical /Emotional / Psychological Abuse, Vampire Sex, First Time, Doctor John, Bisexual John) – John is a doctor and nothing ever happens to him, and then it does. He meets two fascinating men at a fundraiser...he soon finds out vampires are real and they are in London.

Care And Companionship Series by elldotsee and J_Baillier (E, 209,820+ w. across 5 works || Series WiP || Me Before You Fusion || Angst, Romance, Depression, Medical Ethics, Insecure Sherlock, Serious Illness, Permanent Injury, Sherlock Whump, BAMF John, Doctor John, Injury Recovery, Physical Rehabilitation, Medical Realism, Assisted Suicide, Awkward Sex, Friends to Lovers, Alcoholism, John Whump, PTSD, Anxiety, Family Drama, Caretaker John, Alternating POVs) – Invalided home from Afghanistan, running out of funds and convinced that his surgical career is over, John Watson accepts a mysterious job offer to provide care and companionship for a disabled person. Little does he know how much hangs in the balance of his performance as he settles into his new life at Musgrave Court.

UNEXPECTED OCCURENCE by Victoria557 (M, 295,878+ w., 124/? Ch. || WiP || Post-TRF Divergence, Unexpected Parenthood, PTSD, Trauma, Child Abandonment, Slow Burn, Heavy Angst with Happy Ending, Blood and Gore, Self-Harm, Intrusive Thoughts, Doctor John, Self-Esteem Issues, Anxiety Disorder, Misunderstandings, No Mary) – Barely five months after Sherlock's death, John was slowly yet so ever damn surely falling apart. Every day since then, he had just been surviving not living. When Lestrade phone him, with nervousness and uncertainty in his voice, asking for some help with a case since Anderson who usually did the forensic stuff, and another worker who examined the body had been unfortunately unavailable and with the downfall of Lestrade's record recently, he couldn't afford to risk another scolding from his supervisor, John agreed, despite the forming of the painful twist in his stomach at the thought of being at a crime scene without a certain arrogant high-functioning sociopath. Never did he expect to encounter such a surreal event and never did he expect to find out Sherlock having a secret - well secret would be unfitting as the man himself didn't realize this.

[potatomountain]

Beg For It

Pairing: Omega!JWY(atz) x fem reader x Alpha!Chan (skz) Summary: The night you get to officially belong to Wooyoung and his wolf, his pack, is the night he decides to fulfill a fantasy of yours- or maybe it was his: sleeping with your boss, and an ally Alpha, Bangchan WC: 5.3 AU: Werewolf, boyfriend/mate Genre: Supernatural, pwp Warning(s): 18+ rating, mxm, mxfxm, marking, degradation, cum-eating, oral (m & f receiving), rough handling, humiliation kink, mean dom Bangchan, sub!Wooyoung. Dacryphilia. penetration without barriers, overstimulation, Multiple orgasms, slight breeding kink. voyeurism, exhibitionism, guided masturbation, face-fucking, spanking(not reader), clawing, howling(relevant), knotting, just lots of pure filth Nets: @pirateeznet | @mirohs-aurora-society AN: Happy birthday to two loves of my lives! Christopher Bangchan and @adelusionforyourthoughts (and a dear clown as well for a third) This ended up way longer than I thought and this is also unedited (as i rarely edit or proofread my work tho i totally should) thanks to beta's: @bunnliix and @callmeghostly dividers by: @cafekitsune | Banner by me!

Main Masterlist

Werewolves were a loosely kept secret. There were a few packs that were public, but for the most part, they were hidden. Which, considering there was still a bit of fear around them, was understandable.

You considered yourself blessed to be dating one however. He wasn’t an Alpha like many young adults day dreamed about, but you loved your little Omega with every fiber of your being. Sure you questioned how much of that was the mate bond thing his wolf had going on, but Wooyoung had always been honest and open with you about everything.

From his wolf side, to his pack, to presenting you with options to leave if you wanted: despite the catastrophic heartbreak it would cause his wolf. He had done everything to make sure you wanted to be with him for him, and that you knew he loved you for you.

The added bonus of the odd way his pack did things was just that… a bonus. They were one of the public packs in the city, probably because their Alpha, Kim Hongjoong, didn’t appear as threatening as one pictures an Alpha. But you’ve felt it before, even as a human, the presence he had in a room.

It reminded you of your boss, the CEO of the small company you worked for: Christopher BangChan. While it was speculation among your coworkers, as you worked under his second-in-command Lee Minho, nothing had ever been confirmed. Minho himself didn’t like the others talking about it, which still happened a lot considering the nature of your work: advertising and research for werewolf and human products alike. Minho and your department was pretty much the HR, so gossip always found it’s way to the small office the six of you shared.

You wondered idly what your coworkers would say now that you could confirm that yes, BangChan was a werewolf.

“Did he catch your eye baby?” Wooyoung hummed against your ear, his arm loosely wrapped around your waist and playing with the golden body chain that hung there. He had picked out your whole outfit for the night. From the dark blue shimmering dress, to the golden starry accents around your waist, ankle, and neck. His Alpha was hosting a local meeting for the other packs, and this was the first you were allowed to go to. There were other humans here, all for the same purpose as you: to be welcomed into the packs.

It was a full moon, the start of their “breeding” season as Wooyoung had called it, and tonight he was going to officially mark you as his mate. There was no going back from this, you would be tied to him until you died, and even then… in every life after this. It was romantic to say the least, and you had mulled it over for awhile.

You couldn’t deny it felt right, a smile playing on your lips as you leaned into him. “He’s my Boss.” You pointed next to him to the man staring at you with an unreadable expression. “Though I work with him more. He’s part of Chan’s board. In fact… everyone he brought today is.” You knew the other six easily, some of them saying hello.

But Chan was the one that had your attention and Wooyoung knew it. “You mean the boss you used to comment on how hot he is? The one your coworker and you talk about in a not so work-related way?” Cheeks burning with embarrassment, you tore your eyes off Chan to glance up at your boyfriend. “You know about that?” He grinned playfully. “Mhmm, I do. Chan does too ya know.” Oh you were fucked. Wooyoung loved to tease you, but now that you know Chan’s secret… Who is to say he won’t tease you as well? From the interactions you’ve had with him, you knew he was playful and flirty. He’d laugh off the allegations made by the others about being a wolf and turn it into flirting.

While the panic had you reeling, Wooyoung was already dragging you across the room towards Chan. You wished you could run, but the room was full of wolves that could smell your panic, and the lodge you all were in was hours from the city.

Hongjoong’s hunting lodge in the mountains definitely was the perfect place to hold a wolf meeting- but wasn’t such a good idea for your fragile human self who was currently watching your career go up in flames in your mind’s eye. “Chan! I wanted to introduce you to my mate!” Wooyoung pulled you tight against his side, pressing a kiss against your burning cheek before attempting innocent boba eyes at the Alpha. That was a sign he was up to now good. “I didn’t realize you were spoken for.” Chan showed his easygoing, flirty smirk as he shook your hand due to Wooyoung just plopping it in the man’s own awaiting one. “I don’t think I have to worry about you telling the company about what I am?| “I- uh- yeah. No need to worry about that Sir.” It was an effort to pull your hand from his simply because he wasn’t letting go, so you resigned to your fate.

He swung your joined hands between you both, turning to Wooyoung. “Is this the surprise you told me about? Binnie insisted I make no other plans.” Wooyoung giggled in your ear, grin turning mischievous. “My Alpha wants us to get along well, what better sign of trust than that.” Tearing your eyes away from the veins on Chan’s hand, you turned in Wooyoung’s arm. “What are you planning? Woo-” He shut you up with a quick kiss. 

“We’ll talk later.” Chan hummed out, containing his own laughter as he dropped his hand, running it over your bare back between your shoulders as he passed. It felt like a promise- one very similar to the one Wooyoung was promising as he deepened the kiss.

However, you weren't the one he talked to. The festivities kept Chan busy until Hongjoong announced to the wolves that the packs would head out for a ritual hunt, the same peacekeeping one they do yearly. Not all would head out though, as those who brought their mates were dismissed to partake in a different, more intimate ritual.

Like that you were taken upstairs, Wooyoung fucking full of his cum while he literally took a small bite of your flesh and ate it, just as he had you do with his. It almost ruined the mood for you, if you hadn't been preparing for it for weeks now. 

“Will yours scar?” You mused out, finger running under the missing bite of flesh on his chest, over his heart. He had cut it off himself, insisting only the closest flesh to his heart would do for you. Though he had taken a literal bite out of the curve of your breast, and you knew yours would scar.

“If I want it to.” He laid on his side next to you, watching your hand but occasionally glancing at the door. “There is one other ritual I wanted to do tonight, my moon.”

You hummed in response, urging him to continue but you had a feeling you knew where this was going. He was anxious, and with the newly formed bond you could feel it almost as if it was your own anxiety.

He still hesitated before continuing “I've invited Chan to share this night with you, as a gift. Both to him, to you, and to myself.”

Your fingers halted their lazy movements, lifting your gaze to his face. “Why didn't you ask me beforehand?” He's already fucked you- twice- and his seed was leaking out of you and sticking to your thighs that were quite marked up already. You had no qualms about being shared or that it would be with Chan but… you were human, would you physically be able to handle an Alpha after Wooyoung has spent the better of an hour wearing your body down in the most pleasurable ways he enjoys? 

He didn’t have a chance to answer, someone knocking on the door before stepping in. Chan was shirtless now, several gashes and bruises on his body from the hunt no doubt. Alpha’s will let new packmates chase them to test their metal; Chan probably had a few promising wolves in his pack now.

Whether it was from the hunt, or the precarious position you were in, you could see his eyes were that of his wolf’s: bright and vibrant and primal. When they landed on you, your body tensed up, alarms telling you that you should run. 

“Chan! How was the hu-”

“Quiet.” He snarled out, upper lip pulled back to reveal his canines. Wooyoung whimpered and did what he was told, imitating a dog with his ears flat on his head. You knew that look, he always wore it when one of the Alpha’s gave him an order he couldn’t refuse.

Frowning, you pushed yourself up on your elbows. “I’d rather you not use that tone on my mate when you interrupted our conversation!” Alpha or not- desire put aside as well- you never liked when someone forced Wooyoung to obey. Yes it was fun and enjoyable to boss him around, to push him and tame him like the brat he could be, but you didn’t like taking the free will out of it.

Chan tilted his head with curiosity as he locked the door behind him. “Don’t worry Angel, we talked about it. But if it makes you uncomfortable then I will refrain from using my wolf to command him.” His tone was much softer speaking to you than he had that one word. The stark contrast was dizzying but you didn’t dislike it.

Still, you glanced at Wooyoung for confirmation. “I… told him what I wanted” he rasped out once he could speak again, now sitting up next to you.

Relaxing at his admission, you nodded before returning your attention to Chan. It wasn’t lost on you that he had said what he wanted. “Can I have a safe word?” “We can use the color system. Since he hasn’t explained anything to you, which really, that’s more pathetic than I thought pup-” His tone had a hard edge when he addressed Wooyoung, but once more the edge was gone when he spoke to you “- he wants me to show you how much better you could have it. It’s almost disgusting that he doesn’t have a single possessive bone in his body. No wonder he’s an omega.” Your eyes widened as your legs were forced open, mess of a pussy on display for him. Chan was a respectful man, you knew that even as he was flirting with you long before he knew you had a boyfriend… so this was entirely new to you. The way he was purposely disrespecting, humiliating your mate was more shocking than finding out he really was a wolf.

Wooyoung’s hard cock was a testament to how much he was enjoying this though. Oh, you had no idea he liked it this much. You’ve dabbled in it with him, but you also loved him too much to say anything harsh and humiliating.

He wanted to be a cuckold. Wanted to watch you get fucked by “better” men, better wolves, and feel pathetic and inadequate- just to have the knowledge that at the end of the day he was your mate, he was the one who had your heart.

It was exhilarating. “So an Alpha can fuck me better?” You could definitely play into it.

Wooyoung’s whine, paired with Chan’s breath fanning against your nether lips, had you clenching around nothing. The alpha smirked up at you, nails digging into your flesh and drawing small droplets of blood in the process. “‘Course Angel, and I’ll prove it.”

He was licking you clean the next second; tongue pushing deep to scoop out as much of Wooyoung’s cum as he could. His nose pressed against your clit, expertly rubbing against it to leave you gasping and panting from the onslaught of sensations. Gripping the sheets beneath you, your head lulled back with a contented sigh as you relaxed fully into this.

“S-she likes- ah!” Wooyoung’s question was interrupted by his own cry, the reason being Chan’s claw squeezing his cock harshly. The way Wooyoung’s thighs trembled gave way just how much he enjoyed the pain. “I didn’t ask for you’re worthless opinion. If you could satisfy her in the first place, she wouldn’t be so pliant for my tongue now would she?” Chan growled out against your slick folds, the vibrations of his deep voice hitting you deep. His wolf was still very much present, bringing up your earlier concerns. Licking your lips and trying to catch your breath, you reached down to card your fingers through his tousled brown hair. “C-Channie? I- oh!” 

He cut you off with a harsh smack to your clit. “That’s not what I want you to call me tonight Angel.” With a soft nod, you corrected your mistake. “S-Sir, this is about my pleasure too isn’t it?” He seemed to soften a bit at that, lapping around your cunt to clean up more of the dried cum there. “Your pleasure is my top priority. How else am I going to prove how poorly of a job he does taking care of you?” He mused out, predator gaze still a bit soft as he stared up at you from between your legs.

Wooyoung whimpered again, ready to protest but his cock was slapped by Chan before he got the chance. The sight had you dripping onto Chan’s tongue. When you didn’t continue, just stared at where your mate had been slapped, Chan prompted “You like watching me hurt him?”

You nodded without hesitation. “He likes it. W-want to see him all marked up and ruined. Just as much as you’ll ruin me. P-please Sir?” Chan chuckled at your pleading, lifting his mouth and instead pushing two fingers into your sobbing cunt as he sat up straighter. “Want me to manhandle him? Treat him like a toy who’s only good is to be fucked?” He reached out and cupped Wooyoung’s chin. “This pretty mouth, or that little ass of his?” “Mouth.” You said the same time Wooyoung did, the latter receiving a harsh slap to his cheek.

“I wasn’t asking you bitch.” You whined this time, shaking your head. “Different word Sir.”

Chan nodded in understanding, curling his fingers inside you as if to reward you. “Angel is too soft and sweet on a pathetic and useless thing like you. A chew toy that won’t last the season.” He paused, glancing at you to see if you approved, then grinned maliciously at Wooyoung when you just moaned in response. “A chew toy. Fuck toy. Going to rip you to pieces as I use you. Mmm Angel likes that.”

With his fingers pumping into you at a growing pace it was hard to hide your body’s reactions to their words. It was also hard to keep your eyes on them, slipping off your elbows but keeping your head tilted to watch.

“I’ll be a good toy-” Another slap to the cheek, Wooyoung’s cock jumping and leaking in reaction. His own hands were digging into his thighs, small droplets of blood running down the tanned flesh.

He looked as fucked out as you felt, and he had only been hurt and humiliated.

“I’ll see if you can be good at anything, stupid toy. Take off my pants. Angel wants a show, she’ll get one.” Chan turned his attention back to you, grin softening but still cocky, almost arrogant.

With a twist of his fingers, his thumb pressing down on your clit, he was now assaulting your sweet spots as he turned just enough for Wooyoung to do what he was asked.

Through a pleasure-filled haze you watched your mate fumble with the Alpha’s jeans, groaning in frustration as he finally popped a button open. But he seemed to be taking too long, Chan grabbing a fistful of his dual hair and forcing his head back to look at him. “Can’t you even do this right?” Wooyoung opened his mouth to respond, just to moan out as Chan yanked his head back even further. Drool pooled at the side of his mouth, and he looked absolutely gorgeous like this.

The humiliation seemed to spur him on, his fingers making faster work of Chan’s pants while it became harder to bite back your own sounds; though those just seemed to encourage them both. 

Your climax was quickly approaching, hips bucking up to meet his fingers to chase the building high. It already felt too much after everything Wooyoung had done, your human body lacking the stamina these two wolves no doubt had.

“G-gonna cum-” You whined out, looking down your nose at them just in time to see Chan’s cock pop out of his underwear and slap against Wooyoung’s cheek. He was big, the shock mixing with the ecstasy as his fingers pushed you over the edge.

Chan chuckled, removing his thumb from your clit but his two fingers still leisurely rubbing against the soft spot of your inner walls to keep your high going.

The overstimulation became painful quickly, your body writhing as you breathlessly pleaded “no more”. Chan pulled his fingers away and brought them to his lips, licking them clean while he forced Wooyoung’s head back at an awkward angle to watch. “Fuck she tastes divine. Fitting of an Angel.”

You both whined, Wooyoung being yanked forward to haphazardly lean into Chan’s hips, cheek pressed up against his cock. The two of you made eye contact, some concern must have shown in yours because his lips widened into a pleased reassuring grin.

Relaxing, you melded into the bed more as your limbs trembled from the aftershocks of the orgasm, trying to find your breath once more. You knew this wasn’t over, but you were thankful for the moment of reprieve, listening instead to the two wolves.

“Open up~” Chan’s voice was dripping with fake sweetness, the sound of Wooyoung gagging a moment later adding to the cotton in your mind.

You wanted to watch, to lift your head and see your lover struggle to take the thick cock into his mouth. Would it bulge out his throat? Would it make him cry? The anticipation was enough to have you pushing yourself up, still panting, just to watch.

Wooyoung did indeed have tears in his eyes, his hair pulled tightly back by Chan’s grip; you wouldn’t be surprised if his scalp was red from the force. The entirety of Chan’s cock had disappeared into Wooyoung’s mouth, his curved nose pressed against the man’s trimmed pubes, his drool covering his chin and Chan’s balls. Still Wooyoung looked up at the man, the bright yellow flecks a sign his wolf was present, while Chan’s head was thrown back and he was panting.

Your mate must have done something as the next second Chan let out such a low animalistic growl before he was fucking his mouth with an intensity you swore was inhumanly possible.

He was gritting his teeth as he held his head still, hips bucking into him to shove his full length into him again and again, the harsh slap of skin on skin reverberating in the room. Tears were freely streaming down Wooyoung’s reddened cheeks now while he gagged and drooled around the member getting shoved roughly into his mouth.

You could never fuck him like this. You could never give him this- but he clearly loved it. Seconds turned to minutes, the bed shaking with the force as you managed to recover from your previous orgasm and were now eager for another. Chan didn’t seem like he was going to stop, continuing to growl and let out pure animalistic sounds that had arousal leaking from your cunt. “Angel likes this so much, her scent is driving me crazy. Can’t wait until I’m fucking that sweet cunt. Get it molded perfectly to my cock so your pathetic excuse of one would never be enough again. She’ll come begging for me to fuck her- to breed her- because you failed so miserably.”

Wooyoung moaned in response, his hands tearing at the blanket as his cock swung uselessly between his thighs and up against his abdomen with how harsh his body took each thrust.

“I’ll fuck her just like this. Abuse her pretty cunt like I am your throat. Mmm fuck, you’re leaking so much. Tears, drool, pre-cum. Don’t tell me you’re going to cum without being touched? Without being told?” Chan chuckled darkly, grinning to show off a dimple and fang as he locked eyes with Wooyoung who was so pliant in his hands. “Fucking pathetic. Angel- do you think he deserves to cum?” He turned to you, tone soft but still tight with his own impending climax. Wooyoung glanced at you out of the corner of his eyes, pleading with you.

You were so soft on him. Besides, how can you deny him when he looked so damned good getting ruined like this? “Wanna see if he can cum without being touched. But you should cum first Sir- not fair that toys finish first.” Chan’s smirk widened, a raspy laugh leaving him. “Angel is so sweet on you. Fine, make your Alpha cum first. Don’t disappoint.” Wooyoung grabbed Chan’s thighs then, a fiery look in his eyes as he started pushing himself down on Chan’s cock- well as much as his physical limitations allowed him. His eagerness was awarded though, Chan growing more vocal as his head fell back. Words alluded him as he just fucked the other wolf, animalistic whines and soft howls falling from his lips.

When he did cum, he made a sound you could never forget. A howl that shook the room, his hands holding Wooyoung against his pelvis as he shot his cum down his throat and gave him no choice in the matter. Wooyoung’s own sounds were garbled, but you got to watch his cock spurt his seed onto the blankets beneath him.

The sight of them left you reeling, your whole body hot and eager as pleasure coursed through you. You wondered if you were feeling remnants of Wooyoung’s own climax through your newly formed bond, though it wasn’t enough pleasure to get you off, just edge you a bit. It distracted you enough that you weren’t aware the two had pulled apart until you felt a hand sliding up the side of your calf. Chan was crawling towards you, now completely nude, with Wooyoung lapping at his cum on the bed behind him. A bit confused, you glanced at Chan for an explanation. “I can explain that later Angel, but we can take a moment before continuing?” He must have caught on to how exhausted you had been feeling. Truthfully if he had asked moments ago, you would have agreed, but after what you just saw? There was no way you could sit still. 

Shaking your head you reached for him. “I want to continue.”

Chan brought your hand to his cheek, pressing a soft kiss to the inside of your wrist before nodding. “And how do you want to continue?”

You thought over your options for a moment, gaze constantly flickering to your pathetic boyfriend you adored, and settled on one. “I want to hear him beg for you to fuck me. For you to mark me up and make me cry with how good you make me feel. All while he just gets his hand. If he really wants me to feel good, he’ll beg for you to take care of me.” Wooyoung looked up at you with wide eyes and puffy lips. He wasn’t crying anymore, but you could tell he liked the idea. You knew that he caught on to what you were doing too. You wanted to give him his fantasy, and if this was it, so be it.

He just had to beg for it.

He attempted to hide the smirk that tugged at the corners of his lips, dashing it away the second Chan looked over at him, instead batting his lashes almost innocently. There was nothing innocent about him, or this situation, which just had his cute head tilt seeming even more sinful. “I should beg for it?” There was the brat in him.

Chan sighed dramatically, turning back towards you and pressing a kiss to your knee. “You would think he would have learned his lesson by now right?” With a nod, you watched Chan slip back over to Wooyoung and grasp his throat with lightning fast reflexes. Wooyoung had the gall to act shocked, but his cock was already twitching back to life. “You’re going to deny your sweet, beautiful mate, pleasure? You’re going to tell her no?”

Wooyoung made an effort to swallow with the hand around his throat, glancing back over at you just to have his gaze ripped away by Chan. “N-No, won’t deny her.” That malicious smirk was back as Chan now forced him to look at you, his thick lip brushing against the shell of Wooyoung’s ear. “Beg for it. She wants to hear you. If you’re going to say anything it’s going to be exactly as your mate wants right?”

When Wooyoung nodded, Chan squeezed for a split second before dropping him, nudging his chin in your direction as a single towards him. “Beg.” Wooyoung whined and bent forward onto his hands and knees. “Please- I’m not worthy of fucking you. I’m not good enough, baby. Want to watch you get fucked dumb by the better man. Alpha’s do it so much better anyways.” There was the tiniest hint of sarcasm in his tone, but it was overshadowed by desperation. 

You couldn’t help but squirm a bit, glancing at Chan. “Mm you heard him- fuck me better than he can Sir.” Chan grinned as he climbed between your legs, manhandling you into a position that allowed Wooyoung to see everything. You had enough time to rest, your nerves no longer on a fiery edge and while exhaustion still threatened to take over, your desire outweighed it. “Gladly Angel.” He was quick to position himself, swollen cockhead rubbing against your slick folds then pressing in.

Laying flat on your back you could do nothing but take his full length as he thrust in, a moan escaping you as he most definitely stretched you out more than your mate did. “F-fuck-” Chan chuckled, gripping you by the back of your thighs and pushing them up so your knees were parallel with your shoulders. “Not used to such a big cock? His is rather pathetic isn’t it?”

You nodded in agreement, glancing over at Wooyoung. “He should be stroking that pathetic excuse of a dick to your own strokes- though I don’t think he’ll last as long as you.” In the back of your mind you made a mental note to reassure Wooyoung later. Even if he was enjoying this, which he most definitely was, you had some budding guilt at insulting your chosen like this.

Wooyoung wrapped his hand around the cock in question when Chan sent a harsh glare in his direction. He opened his mouth to speak but shut up with Chan growling at him.

“Toys don’t speak, not unless you’re going to beg and plead.” He snapped his hips up into you for emphasis.

“Please fuck her. Mark her up. Ruin her for me.” The pleas began to fall from Wooyoung’s lips without an ounce of shame, getting filthier as Chan started up a relentless pace without warning. Your hands gripped the mattress above you, trying to hold still as your whole body bounced with each thrust.

Chan was pure raw feral power. His nails digging into your flesh, hips slamming into yours with such force your ass was stinging. It was different from Wooyoung, better in its own right. It lacked the love and connection that he gave, but Wooyoung also couldn’t manhandle you like this. Couldn’t have you crying out and gasping for breath as your pussy was abused.

“Fuck just like that. Fucking her so good. Marking her so pretty.” Wooyoung was fucking into his hand at the same pace Chan was slamming into you, the same pleas tumbling from his lips.

It just drove both you and Chan further with desire. “You like this don’t you Angel? Like how harsh I’m fucking you? Want me to breed you? Fill you with pups?” Chan growled out, words more animalistic than human. He cursed out more incoherent growls when your walls clenched down around him, cumming unexpectedly from his promises. “She wants it.”

“Fuck- my Moon-” You barely registered Wooyoung’s whiney voice, not with the way Chan was fucking you through your orgasm into such a fucked out state your mind was too much of a haze to process much. Your own bubbling mess of sounds didn’t even register to your own ears.

Wooyoung whined out more. “You want him to breed you? Am I too pathetic for it?” He was close, you could tell from the way his words pitched at the end.

Unable to get a word out, you just nodded, just to be flipped onto your stomach and hips lifted up. The cry you let out echoed through the room, hands pulling at the sheets to try and still your body but the bed was shaking just as much as you were. 

How Chan managed to go even harder now, one hand gripping your shoulder in a painful grip to hold you still, was beyond you. Tears streamed down your face from the intense pleasure and pain that coursed through your body with each thrust of his. Too fucked dumb to even register what words you were speaking, or if it were even eligible sounds at all.

“I can’t deny you what you want. Such a sweet Angel deserves the best.” Chan didn’t even sound human behind you, vaguely his cock no longer felt it either. Thicker, a point hitting deep inside you that was pushing you more and more to the edge again. How you could manage another climax was beyond you, but it hit once more without warning.

You could hear Wooyoung’s own cry of pleasure as Chan’s coated the inside of your walls, breeding you thoroughly with a howl of his own. Forcing your eyes open, you could see your lover hunched over himself, cum staining the sheets beneath him, but his eyes were on yours. With Chan suddenly stopping with his release, you reached for your mate and he took your hand in his. 

“My Moon.” Breathless he leaned down and kissed the back of your hand, reaching to wipe away the tears from your eyes. “A mess of tears and drool, so fucked out you’re barely aware of it. How does it feel to be knotted by an Alpha?” The whine you let out was met with a chuckle from them both.

“Are you sure she’ll be fine?” Chan rasped out, still sounding rather gruff as his hands rubbed up your sides. Your body felt sore, muscles aching from the constant pounding and the orgasms you were given. You tried to lay down, but Chan quickly followed, still stuck inside you.

“Oh-” You finally registered Wooyoung’s words: Chan was knotted inside you. However, you were too exhausted to care. 

Wooyoung glanced at the Alpha behind you with a silent question, suddenly moving a second later to lay next to you, even if that meant he was laying in his own cum. You were now on your side, Chan behind you and stuck, with Wooyoung mirroring your position and pressing his forehead against yours.

He was still holding your hand, the only reassurance that everything was indeed alright. It was the only thing you needed before passing out.

Talking can wait for the morning.

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[the-most-humble-blog]

Feminism Ends When the First Bomb Drops🚀🔥

Modern feminists love to scream about patriarchy and male privilege while living in a world built, secured, and maintained by the same men they despise. They whine about "oppression" in air-conditioned coffee shops, but when real oppression arrives wearing combat boots and carrying rifles, suddenly, equality doesn’t seem so fun anymore.

They think all men are dangerous—until the truly dangerous ones show up. Not Chad from accounting who called them “sweetheart,” but real wolves—men with no allegiance, no morals, and no concern for your pronouns or your feminism.

🔻 Feminism works great… until you're getting invaded. 🔻 Every woman is "equal" until war reminds her she's prey. 🔻 Your gender studies degree won’t save you when the wolves are at the door.

☠️ Feminist Delusion vs. Wartime Reality ☠️

🟢 Feminist Fantasy: "I’m a strong, independent woman who doesn’t need a man!" 🔴 Reality: When the first shot is fired, you’ll be looking for the nearest “toxic male” to protect you.

🟢 Feminist Fantasy: "Men oppress women every day!" 🔴 Reality: You live in the safest, most comfortable era in human history, secured by the very men you demonize.

🟢 Feminist Fantasy: "Women can fight just as well as men!" 🔴 Reality: There's a reason war zones evacuate women and children first—because they know exactly what happens when the conquerors arrive.

🟢 Feminist Fantasy: "I deserve to be treated equally!" 🔴 Reality: In war, there is no equality—there are conquerors and the conquered.

🔥 History’s Brutal Reality Check 🔥

Ancient Rome? Women were spoils of war.

Vikings? If you weren’t shieldmaiden-tier, you were cattle.

World War II? Rape and slaughter defined the fall of cities.

Modern conflicts? Ask Ukraine, Syria, or Afghanistan what happens when the "bad men" come knocking.

🚨 The REAL Gender Privilege 🚨

The biggest privilege women have isn't their right to vote, work, or wear whatever they want—it’s male restraint.

Because here’s a cold, hard fact:

🚫 The only reason modern women get to play the "strong, independent" game is because civilized men allow it.

🚫 If the wrong men show up—the kind that don't give a fuck about your feminism, your rights, or your opinions—there won’t be Twitter activism, protests, or HR complaints.

🚫 There will just be raw, unchecked, primal male dominance.

And the biggest irony? The same men they demonize will be the ones fighting, killing, and dying to keep them safe.

"But Women Fight Too!"

Yeah, sure. Some do. And God bless them. But let’s not pretend the majority of women could survive five minutes in an actual battlefield. There’s a reason women and children get evacuated first. The world knows what happens when the conquerors arrive, and trust me, they do not care about your gender fluidity.

Final Thought: Reality Doesn’t Care About Your Feelings

You can call men toxic all you want. But if real war breaks out, guess who you’ll be begging to protect you? The same men you spent years demonizing.

💀 REBLOG if reality is undefeated. 💬 COMMENT if you know someone who needs this wake-up call. 🚀 FOLLOW if you’re tired of delusional bullshit.

⚖️ LEGAL DISCLAIMER: This post is written for the purpose of artistic expression, cultural commentary, and psychological exploration of social and gender dynamics. It does not condone or encourage violence, harassment, or discrimination of any kind. Any references to power, strength, restraint, or critique are metaphorical, symbolic, and rooted in historical and cultural analysis. This is not a call to action — it’s a cultural mirror. If you feel offended, ask yourself if it’s from actual harm — or from seeing something you hoped no one would say out loud.

✨ TL;DR: If you're mad, it’s probably not because it’s wrong — it’s because you know it’s true.

[mandukkul]

PRACTICE — n. rk

synopsis: niki needs a break from dance practice and what’s better if not you to rewind and cool down

tags: bf!idol!niki x gn!reader, FLUFF!!! , established relationship

warning: not proofread, grammatical and spelling probably, please tell me if there’s any gendered pronouns in here i’m pretty sure it’s all gn but i’m not sure

word count 1k

published: 20th July, 2023

reblogs + comments appreciated!!!

author’s note: this one is so old i forgot i even had it. TRIALS IS LITERALLY LIYERALY LITERALLY STRIPPING ME BARE HOW DOES SCHOOL EXPECT ME TO REMEMEBRR THE ENTIRE SCHOOL YEAT INTO 3 HRS 😭😭😭. anywyas have a good read while i study my bio exam

The music began to die out, slowly being replaced with heavy huffs of air. The lights in the practice room reflected off their sweat, and the scent of icy-hot was infused with blood sweat and tears. 

the choreographer clapped their hands in satisfaction, finally declaring their break. 

The enhypen boys let out one big sigh in unison, all relieving from their end position and heading to their bottles. 

Riki, without a second thought, darted at you, sitting all pretty (what he said)�� and watching intently— legs swinging as you hummed the tune of their song. a smile stretches across your features, shiny pearls that riki swore, outshined the lights in the room. 

“you did so well, riki” 

His name on your tongue was all he needed to get his energy back. 

“here” shifting a cold bottle of water towards his direction, riki gratefully took it from your grasp, making sure to ever so slightly brush his hand against yours before probably downed 50% of the contents. 

your eyes glued to him, staring as if he was a painting come to life. You didn’t mean to stare, but who could blame you. His glistening skin only made him look more ethereal with the lights assistance, his adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed what was supposed to be you water, his hair flipped back which further exposed his headband that you got because it reminded her of him. 

He was perfect. 

Finally looking down, he wiped the tiny dribble off his lips and stared down at you. 

you staring wasn’t any new occurrence, no, it had been caught in the act several times prior, and today was no different.  Although, Riki never seemed to get over it. 

your doe eyes and pretty lips, how your cheeks naturally blush— maybe it’s because you’ve been staring at him for the whole time. 

He kneels to your height, on his knees with your positions swapped. riki looked up to you with nothing but adoration in his eyes as you subconsciously brush a hand against his cheek. 

he holds into your hand and leans into her touch. “you’ve been doing so well, riki” a hums a response pushing forward towards you. 

you take  it as a sign for affection, leaning in allowing your foreheads to touch— despite the spongy sweat filled band. 

The enhypen boys try their best not to stare at the kdrama scene unfolding right in front of them but they swore they saw sparkles emit when your hands touched.

“OI, NIKI NO KISSING!” Jake calls out after entering the room with new bottles of water for the rest of them. 

the boy doesn’t flinch at the noise, in fact he ignores it completely. “wanna cuddle” he mumbles in a sleepy tone, probably tired from the relentless hours of dancing and singing. 

“hmm?” you hums almost teasingly, leaning away from him which makes his eyes dart awake. “if you want, i’ll stay over tonight, i’m sure junwon won’t mind” you suggest which seemed to rejuvenate him. 

“okay!” he pulls your hand away from his face, and with a mischievous glint in his eye, chomps down on your finger. 

a quiet yelp left your lips as you went to retaliate with a hard forehead flick which sent him rolling around in the ground. 

“oi, i’ll make you sleep on the ground tonight!” you scold but there’s no threat in your tone, “but it’s my bed, won’t you sleep on the floor then?” he tilts his head at you. 

“then i guess Sunghoon won’t mind an extra visitor in his bed, will he” he knows it’s not true, she also knows it isn’t — even sunghoon knows it isn’t, but he’s just so in love with you that he can't even bare the thought of it ever occurring. 

whining, he gets up to hug you, with all his sweat spreading against your fresh clothes (which retrospectively, are his). “noo! you’re mine, only mine” he whines in a low volume which makes you giggle. 

“of course i’m yours, second to Beomgyu of course” you tease once again kissing the side of his cheek to avoid any more complaints due to your teasing. 

“beomgyu-sunbae doesn’t even know you exist” he remarks, holding onto her tightly, “yeah well, beomgyu-sunbae wouldn’t mind meeting me then” you retort with a giggle as he huffs in defeat. 

“don’t worry, I'll always be in love with you. only” you reassures and he takes a moment to absorb her feature once again before rushing to peck her lips. 

“HEY, THE KIDS ARE  KISSING!” heeseung shouts for basically the whole world to hear, “at least i have a lover hyung, kiss jay if you’re so lonely” riki sneers back tightening his grip on you. 

“why not i kiss you instead” heeseung giggles mischievously as he slowly approaches riki— who’s fight or flight response kicks in. 

Almost immediately , niki began being chased by heesung. one taking his long arms to advantage by outstretching them to pull him in for a kiss while one took his long legs as a benefit to sprint faster around the room. 

“hey riki! if heeseung catches you, i’ll consider that cheating and find Beomgyu myself”  You shouts only pouring more gasoline into the fire. 

“NO! ONLY I CAN KISS YOU!” and suddenly, youre off your chair,being lifted and bolted out the practice room like a sack of potatoes leaving the rest of his members behind. 

“What about practice?” you laugh as you turn around to barely face him, “it’s okay, i learnt the dance ten minutes into practice!” he confidently proclaimed. 

his hands around your waist holding secularly as you try your best not to wiggle out of his grip, he knows , as does she, that a memory like this is worth all the scolding they’ll get as soon as they’re found.

authors note pt. 2: THANK YOU FOR 100 FOLLOWERS, I CANT DO MUCH RN BECAUSE IM PREPARING FOR EXAMS BUT I DEFINITELY HAVE STUFF SAVED UP FOR THIS (not alot but still stuff) AGAIN THANK YOU FOR SUPPORTING ME AND I HOPE WE CAN GROW TOGETHER 🤓🤞

[adaptacy]

Gale has me in a chokehold, I love his nerdy ass. If you're accepting requests, can I request some angst but then fluff with him? It may just be my own insecure self, but what if his fem Tav still felt insecure and not worthy of him after he spoke to Mystra? Like she tries to smile and nod, but she's actually worried he still has feelings for Mystra?

hiii! so i wanted to actually get to this part before writing for it so i could experience full context instead of just watching a yt vid (200 hrs in the game and i *just* got there... albeit it was with durge tav in an evil playthru (one of like 4 playthrus i've started cause i have no self control), but i got there nonetheless) so sorry for taking a while!! but here you go ^^

Word count: 2k

"Back on mortal soil once more," he exhales, eyes slightly narrowed in a tense discomfort. He doesn't meet your eye, and his lips part in a doubtful smile, as if he isn't sure whether he's awake or experiencing some sort of dream. He blinks, and meets your gaze, his smile dimming – you’re not sure if it’s the result of a forced calmness, or a natural relaxation in his muscles. “I can’t believe I saw her– after all this time,” he nearly chuckles the statement out, and you suppress a cringe, desperately scanning his features for reassurance before you allow yourself to grow unreasonably anxious.

But he seems caught in a state of wonder, his eyes bearing an uncommon light in them – perhaps due to the astral scenery he just returned from, or, more likely, it could be an emotional occurrence. Either way, it stings, and you hate the way your stomach churns, hanging onto what feels like a thinning thread. He’s grown closer and closer to rejecting her, every new discovery being one more small, but necessary, push away from his faith, from any lingering feelings of affection for the goddess. 

You couldn’t help but feel as though this was a setback. That, maybe, seeing her again, speaking with her again – maybe it reminded him of a time that you knew he missed. A time that, prior to your relationship with him and a few important facts he’d learned about her, he spoke so incredibly fondly of. He stays quiet, pondering the conversation, and you only feel your fearful anticipation growing more with his silence.

In an effort to break it, you muster up enough courage to speak. “A little intimidating,” you try to chuckle, but it only comes out as a painfully stressed hum, followed shortly by an intense urge to withdraw from the conversation, but you manage to override your anxiety’s desires. 

Gale does manage to chuckle, again, nearly effortlessly – especially compared to your own failed attempt. “Powerful, wasn’t it? Magical, just– entirely magical,” he practically swoons, and you force a smile, tearing your gaze away from him. He continues speaking, and usually you’d be keen on listening to his every word, but you can’t help but tune him out. Even so, you can still hear the excitement in his tone, despite refusing to pick up on the words. 

You’re not sure how long he continues for, though you know it ends, because you feel fingers on your chin, and he angles your head slightly back towards him, forcing your attention back to him. He’s wearing a frown now, and you blink, pulling your head away from his touch. “Sorry. Just – not feeling well.”

“Not feeling well? Damn it, I knew that meat platter was a foul idea. Tavern hardly held a shine, I’m hesitant to believe their appetizers were truly safe for consumption. We should return to camp.” He nods, lowering his hand and offering it to you, and although you feel bad for not disproving his assumptions, you take his hand and go along with the lie, walking back towards your camp. 

It isn’t a very long walk, which is most fortunate; you’re hardly eager to strike up conversation, and had it been any longer of a journey, you’re sure that Gale would question your silence. Eventually, you return, and the area is empty, save for the usual occupants that never really left camp. Everyone else was out either exploring the city, settling down for food, finding entertainment, or bargaining with merchants to pawn off the unnecessary equipment they’d picked up. 

Gale didn’t bother making a request or saying anything before immediately leading you to his tent, directing you to sit on one of the few cushions that littered the blue rug on the floor. You did as he asked, and he looked around the camp, focusing more on the area around Shadowheart’s tent, though his search for her was ultimately fruitless, so instead he knelt before you, the back of his hand pressing against your forehead. “Not particularly warm, certainly not alarmingly so – though I’m no medic, I do believe I’ve enough experience to deem you unafflicted by any fever. What are your symptoms?”

“Symptoms?” You repeat, and Gale squints, clicking his tongue.

“Mental fogginess,” he remarks, and you finally shake your head, looking off to the side.

“I’m not sick,” you confess, knowing that he’s bound to ask questions, but deciding you’d rather be honest than have him worry about your physical well-being. 

“Now, there’s no reason to hide it. I’m sure that even a divine being would have gotten some strand of illness from that – what was it? A space hamster? And a mighty undercooked one, at that. I’m merely glad you’re still conscious,” he teases, leaning forward and holding your chin, giving you a quick kiss on the forehead. 

You pull back, shaking your head once more. “I’m serious. I’m not sick. I just – I don’t know,” you sigh, scooting back and frowning. “It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it? All that stuff with Mystra?”

Gale eases back, reading your expression a second time to ensure you weren’t trying to deceive him. Once he’s sure, he lowers himself fully to his knees, and then grabs another cushion for himself to sit on. He thinks over your words, and ultimately nods. “Indeed. Rather unsettling. To now know that the weave I’ve had inside of me for so long is nothing more – and always has been nothing more – than a mystery to me, it’s… unsettling,” he repeats, bending a knee and placing his elbow on it, his thumb running over the hairs on his jaw. 

“She’s been lying to you,” you murmur, and Gale eyes you, his expression that of some internal conflict. A conflict you fear you may be losing, even if he’d never admit it to you.

“As sadistic as it may appear, she had her reasons. Reasons we may never grasp or understand, but reasons, I’m sure. It’s no matter. Granting my disease a name does little to change said disease – or the expectations that come along with it. If I please her, if I fulfill her request of me, I will be rid of it. Free. At last. Though her actions may seem tyrannical to most, you must understand that it is quite a generous offer she is granting me,” he explains, his head tilting as he watches your reaction, though you’re putting too much effort into disguising your true concerns for him to pick up on them.

“Are you going to give it to her?” You ask, silently pleading for a denial -- for a firm and unwavering ‘No.’

“Of course. I have to,” he chuckles nervously, and whatever hope may have been contained in your expression quickly fades, and you have to break eye contact with him. “My love, this may be my only means of safety. Of securing a future. Should I refuse her, my very life would be on the line. And the miracles that have kept this orb from rupturing thus far – Mystra’s miracles, might I add – I would be left completely without.” He reaches forward, taking a hold of your hands, and you begrudgingly look back at him. “How could I possibly deny the chance at a future with you? I would be a madman.”

His words ease you, even if the effect is incredibly slight. You squeeze his hands, and he squeezes back, his small smile brimming with hope. It’s a pleasant emotion to see him with – one that you haven’t truly seen before. The closest has been eagerness, such as the kind he displayed when you learned of, and eventually obtained, the very book that caused this meeting with his goddess. “What if she forgives you?” You whisper, your insecurity underlining every syllable, and if you weren’t so afraid, your shame would have surely manifested in the color on your cheeks. 

Gale pauses, his eyebrows pushing inward as he processes your words a few times over. “If she forgives me?”

“If she calls on you to be her chosen. If you give her the crown, and she excuses your disputes. I want a future with you too, I do. I just… fear a future haunted by her. I want you, exactly as you are.” You inhale, and it’s shaky, but it’s too late to turn back now. “If she forgives you, will you be at her beck and call?”

He smiles again, but it’s nearly a smile of pity. A smile that instills you with a pinch in your throat, daring you to cry. One of his hands slips out of yours, and for a moment, you believe that this is it – that he’ll confess his plans to return to her side, to embrace his faith once more, to leave you behind at the assurance of greener, holier, pastures. But instead, his hand tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, and then holds the right side of your face, his hold warm and comforting. “Once I am cured, once all of this is over – the only person I wish to be ‘chosen’ by is you. I confess that, had I not met you, the outcome may be different.”

Despite the small, mildly reassured smile on your face, and your leaning into his palm, you still contain some worry for the future. And so, against the understanding that you should know better than to wonder, you ask “Different how?”

He sighs, squeezing your hand again. “Before the tadpoles, before you, before any of this – I had always believed that I’d never be free of her influence. She occupied my mind much like our little larva pilots do now. To control the weave – to channel and embrace the weave is to embrace Mystra. Pieces of her, at least. Though it’s hard to feel a piece of her and not reflect on a time when I could feel all of her. Had I any choice in the matter, I would remove her completely from my life. But I am no man without my past, and even less of one without the magic that I have been so consistently entwined with. And yet, it’s with you that I feel unburdened by her expectations, by her authority and judgment.” Gale leans forward, and you do too, your forehead against his. His eyes close, and yours do as well, merely enjoying the closeness, and the gentleness in his tone, the comfort that his words bring. “With you I forget my goddess. I forget my past, I forget my flaws, I forget my mistakes. I have a purpose now. One beyond being a vessel. One beyond being a subservient lapdog for the will of a deity.”

When you open your eyes, you find Gale’s open as well, and he watches your lips, debating something. You grant him a moment to think, and he decides to act, pulling you a little closer for a chaste kiss, allowing it to linger before he pulls back once more, the curl of his lips more assured now.

“I would suffer at the hands of her fate a thousand times over if it meant finding you again in just one life. You, dearest, are the one who my heart worships. Even if I speak the tongue of the weave or spin her spells, I know what love truly is – unparalleled, earnest, generous love – because of you, and only you. Should Mystra find herself munificent enough to shell out a fragment of forgiveness for me, she will, quite quickly, understand I have no interest in being her compliant plaything anew. If Elminster is a case that instills any flavor of wariness, I do believe I’d be better off without such an expansive lifespan, and… intense enthrallment in cheese,” he chuckles, pulling a laugh from you as well. When that laugh trails off, he cuts it short with a kiss, this one lasting a little longer than the one prior. 

“Just us two, then? After all of this?” You ask when the kiss is broken, and he smirks, shrugging.

“Us two and my Tressym, of course. I promise that she’s much better company than a goddess.”

“Of course. I can certainly live with that."