#and that something like this would probably fit me

[nawilla]

I am quite confident that I lack the financial, emotional, social and health resources to be a good parent. And as a terminally single person, lacking any partner to make up for my deficits decided for me quite young that I would not be having children.

I didn't want children, but part of me is very disappointed that they were never an option. My parents screwed me up enough to not have the emotional bandwidth a child deserves, my health has never been terrific (I suspect my utter lack of fitness is because I was a premature infant born in the 70s and might have been more premature than they realized because my mother's type I diabetes made me bigger than I should be and I was still only 5 or 6 pounds), I don't have the social skills a child would need in a role model (see no partner to help make up for that), and I do not have the finances either. And both of my parents died before I was 28, so there is basically no support system either.

As a GenXer who worked really hard to get a terminal degree in a hard science, only to face both Bush II and Trump slashing science funding at crucial points in my career, it has only been in the past year or two that I have achieved a salary that I could consider having a child on, but still have work hours that make raising a child impossible. (It all may go to shit in the next few months, but what really stings is that I only got a salary that as a single woman I could potentially raise a child on in a low income household when I had already reached the age when I had entered perimenopause. I didn't want children, but no matter how hard I worked, it was never even a possibility).

Basically, I got to choose to live in a home big enough to house a kid in a bad neighborhood with dangerous schools, or live in a home too small to have a child in and still not be able to afford it until after the fertility window closed. No, I don't want to adopt, I don't want kids. But I don't pretend not having them was a choice I made and not the product of factors beyond my control.

ETA: I was also programmed to not like babies in my formative years. I was almost four when my sister was born and she had colic due to lactose intolerance. She literally screamed day and night for hours. My father would leave for work and she would be screaming and he would come home after an 8 hour shift and she would Still. Be. Screaming. Not screaming again. Still. Four-year-old me decided I did not like children. My sister was eventually put on soy formula but by then had been mentally programmed to scream at the top of her lungs for any and every reason. While she stopped screaming after she learned to talk, let's just say with our family dynamic this was not an improvement and she still drives me batshit in ways completely independent of the screaming. With a different personality, I might have warmed up to her. In fairness, she also probably thinks I'm stupid and quite literally never listens to a damn thing I say.

Our parents are dead, so they aren't whining about grandkids, but seriously, if they wanted any, they should have made parenting look like something people want to do.

Also my mom made a point of telling me she thought I'd be a terrible mother. Yes, in those words. While I agree, that isn't something one should say, and since it was in response to me saying I don't want kids, Cynical me thinks it was her trying to ensure I didn't have kids so I could afford to fund her retirement. Haha, Mom. NIH funding was slashed by Dubya! No cushy retirement for either of us!

even if you don’t actually want to be a parent ever, do you think you’d hypothetically be a good one?

[lexiputellas]

Jealous? Me? Never

The restaurant is the kind of place where they don’t put prices on the menu—because if you have to ask, you probably shouldn’t be here. Dim candlelight flickers on pristine white tablecloths, and the air hums with soft jazz and whispered conversations.

Everything about this place screams exclusivity. The silverware is heavier than your wristwatch, the chandeliers glow like molten gold, and you’re fairly certain at least two people here have old-money last names carved into European castles.

Alexia, of course, fits in perfectly. She sits across from you in a tailored black suit, draped in effortless elegance, the candlelight casting golden hues on her cheekbones. She doesn’t even have to try—she just belongs.

You wouldn’t say you were a jealous person in past relationships. You were chill, secure. But with Alexia? Oh, you’re very jealous.

Not because you don’t trust her—she’s perfect. But because you don’t trust other people.

She’s one of the best footballers in the world. The captain. A living legend. And, in your very humble and unbiased opinion, the hottest one too. So when the waitress approaches and immediately directs her full attention to Alexia, you start to feel… unquiet.

Not a glance in your direction. Not even an acknowledgment that you exist.

“Good night,” she purrs.

Alexia, ever polite, smiles. “Good night.”

And that’s all she says. Yet, the waitress beams like Alexia just whispered the secrets of the universe to her.

Would you like to acknowledge me, ma’am? I’m right here. Across from the footballing goddess you’re mentally undressing.

But no. She doesn’t even glance at you. Instead, she leans just a little closer to Alexia.

“Would you like something to drink?” she asks, voice velvety smooth.

Not you two. Not you both. Just her.

You sit back, watching, waiting.

Alexia, blissfully unaware of the blatant disrespect happening before your eyes, hums in thought. “We’ll have a bottle of Château Latour 2009,” she says, pronouncing it effortlessly, like she didn’t spend twenty minutes last night reading about Bordeaux wines on the internet. “And two glasses.”

The waitress nods, still maintaining laser focus on Alexia, as if you’re not sitting directly across from her.

Alexia turns to you, finally pulling you into existence. “Baby, do you want something else?”

Oh. Now you exist.

You pick up your menu, pretending to consider your options. “Yes,” you say, voice smooth as silk. You turn directly to the waitress, who is still refusing to meet your gaze.

“I think we should start with the foie gras with black truffle and…” You let the pause stretch just to force her to acknowledge you. “The gold-leaf caviar.”

Alexia hums approvingly. “Good choice.”

She looks back at the waitress. “We’ll take that as well.”

The waitress scribbles the order down, still only looking at Alexia.

Your eye twitches.

Alexia leans back, sipping her water, completely at ease. “It’s nice here, huh?”

You exhale slowly, gripping your napkin. “Mmm.”

She tilts her head slightly. “Something wrong?”

“No,” you say, setting your menu down with an exaggerated smile. “Nothing at all.”

Her smirk is soft, effortless. “You sure?”

“Absolutely.”

She takes another sip of water, watching you with curiosity. Meanwhile, the waitress is at another table, distributing eye contact like it’s not a limited resource.

You glance back at Alexia. “I just think it’s fascinating how I’m sitting right here and yet, somehow, I am a ghost. Very paranormal. Someone should call the Vatican.”

Alexia nods, completely serious. “Yeah, ghosts are real, you know.”

You blink. “What?”

She gestures vaguely. “There was this documentary I watched—”

You groan. “Alexia, focus.”

Her lips twitch. “I am focused.”

“Not on paranormal activity. On the waitress ignoring me.”

Alexia frowns, glancing toward the waitress. “Is she?”

You stare at her. “Are you kidding?

She shrugs. “I mean, I guess she’s been looking at me a lot, but people do that.”

Oh. Oh, that’s rich.

“People do that,” you mimic, rolling your eyes. “Wow. Must be so hard being beautiful and famous.”

Alexia chuckles, reaching for your hand across the table. “Baby, are you jealous?”

You scoff. “Jealous? No.”

Her smirk deepens. “You so are.”

“First of all, I don’t get jealous,” you lie, crossing your arms. “Second, I just think both guests should be acknowledged at a table.”

“Mmm.”

“That’s just basic manners.”

Alexia bites her lip, amused. “You want me to ask her to make eye contact with you?”

“Don’t you dare.”

She laughs, lifting your hand to her lips. “You’re adorable when you’re like this.”

“I’m furious.”

“I know,”she teases, squeezing your fingers. “But I like it.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, do you?”

“Very much.”

The waitress returns with the wine, pouring it smoothly into two glasses. She hands Alexia hers first, of course, smiling like she’s about to ask for her autograph.

Then she places yours down without looking at you.

Oh. Oh, it’s war now.

You inhale sharply.

Alexia, fully enjoying the show, clinks her glass against yours. “To being the most beautiful, most important person in this restaurant.”

You narrow your eyes. “Are you toasting to yourself?”

She shakes her head, tilting her glass toward you. “No, baby. To you.”

You blink. And just like that, all your irritation dissolves into a flustered mess.

Damn her.

[moon-ttokki-x]

hellooo, can i request a felix x fem!dating!reader where felix finds a used pregnancy test in the trash can, and freaks because it said positive and thought it was the readers? turns out its not, it was her friends, but he was super stressed and sad the he wasn’t told that ‘he was going to have a child’?(around comeback since that kinda fits in)

this was so cute :( writing sad felix almost broke my heart fr but we pushed through . . . here you goooo~

floral tea - lee felix x reader

pairing: lee felix reader

summary: when felix finds a positive pregnancy test in the bathroom bin, a few misunderstandings follow...

genre: sad confused felix, non-idol!au, mentions of pregnancy, pregnancy tests, piss (i promise it's one word lol i'm not sus like that), mentions of injury, blood, lots of tears from felix aww :(

a/n: divider by @g0ds-f4v-svp3rn0v4

skz masterlist

"Y/n, hey!"

You let out an excited squeal as you open the door, embracing Jiseo. It's been so long since you saw her; the last time you did, she was busy travelling for her career.

Her familiar warmth surrounds you like a fluffy blanket as you hug, and her sweet perfume lingers lightly in the summer air. No greater is the joy of meeting an old friend, and that too, completely on an unexpected whim.

"Come in," you say almost shakily from joy, cheeks flushed from the surprise.

She laughs and steps in. You switch on the kettle and sit down to talk with her as steam fills the kitchen. You sit and talk for what feels like hours, reminiscing and gossiping about almost everything. It's so good to see her again, and as a surprise, too...

You're just about to gratefully verbalize this to her when she places a hand over yours, leaning in a little.

"By the way, um, I kinda have something to tell you," she says, a little nervously, but still smiling.

You grin. "What is it?"

Jiseo laughs, though there's a hint of uncertainty behind it. "I, um- Y/n, I think I might be pregnant."

You spit out a mouthful of tea, spluttering ungracefully and splashing the table in floral essence. "What?!"

She nods, unfazed by your rather disgusting reaction. "Yeah, it- kinda just happened, you know?"

You lean forward, almost knocking over your mug, eyes so wide you're sure you look like an owl. "Do you know for sure?"

She shakes her head a little bashfully. "I don't really know... I just came here to you, because if I was going to find out, I wanted you to be with me... s-something like that anyway..."

You can't help the warm bubble that sits in your chest; Jiseo has always been so direct yet so shy at the same time. Her sentiment makes your cheeks tinge with colour as you squeeze her hand. She's probably terrified, poor thing.

"I have pregnancy tests upstairs, if you want to use one," you say, smiling gently. Her hands are clammy.

She exhales shakily. "W-would that be okay? Like, not an invasion of privacy, or-"

"Jiseo," you interrupt, chuckling. "It's okay. I promise, whether it's positive or not, I'll always be here for you. Now, go piss on that stick."

She laughs and gets up.

.

You carefully brew another cup of tea as a smile ghosts the corners of your mouth. Inhaling the scent of your second cup of goodness, you sit down in your previous spot and let your fingers skate over the smooth wooden table.

You can't believe Jiseo is pregnant. You couldn't be happier for her.

She left around an hour ago, after around two hours of excited screaming, cheering, and tears from the both of you. She had been terrified, but you spent so long reassuring her, and she'd gone home after disposing of the pregnancy test, in order to catch her breath before her lover came home. You wonder how they would react; they're a good person, and you hope that Jiseo feels supported and cared for throughout the whole process. You have no doubt that her and her partner are probably jumping for joy in the comfort of their own little home right now, and it makes you smile further.

You can faintly hear Felix coming through the front door now; there's the familiar, faint thuds as he kicks off his shoes and puts them to the side.

He comes into the kitchen, sunlight spilling across his frame, and you tilt your head to kiss him as he leans down to you in your chair.

"Hey, sunshine," he murmurs, stroking your hair.

"Hi. How was your day, hmm?"

He sighs and tugs off his tie. "Yeah, busy. Not too bad, though. I'm gonna get changed and then we can make dinner together?"

You nod and smile.

There's a brief moment of silence as Felix shuffles upstairs, his footsteps receding as he shuts the bathroom door. You sit and stare placidly out the window, absentmindedly sipping the cooling tea and absorbing the fading warmth of the mug.

All is quiet.

That is, until a blonde-haired tornado falls down the stairs and stumbles over to you, shirt askew and hair ruffled. You jump with a start and turn to him, about to ask what the matter is, but you're caught up short when you notice the tears pooling in his eyes.

"Love," he gasps, a borderline sob almost escaping. "What is this?"

He holds up a short, white stick and you squint, realising what it is.

Jiseo's pregnancy test.

She must have thrown it away afterwards in the bathroom bin.

You get up, holding out your hands, trying to calm Felix down and explain. "Sunshine, I-"

"No," he gasps. "No, you knew and you didn't tell me? You just threw the fucking test away- love, are you serious? Why would you do this? You didn't even think to call me when you found out you were gonna have a child? Our child?"

"Felix-"

The tears actually spill out of his eyes then, and a guilty look sets itself uncomfortably across his face. "But I swear, we were so careful- How could this happen, I didn't even know because you didn't even think to tell me you were going to eventually fucking give birth-"

"Felix!" You cry. "It's not mine, okay? Calm down."

He stops short, stuttering, tears still streaming down his cheeks in shock and distress. "What?"

You almost laugh, but then remember it might upset him further. He's still confused, after all, and he splutters further.

"W-what do you mean, it's not yours? Do you realise how bad that sounds? Wait, do you mean that the child isn't yours, or the test-"

"For goodness' sake, Felix, the test isn't mine," you say, exasperated as you tug him into a chair with some difficulty. His shirt slips off his collarbone, revealing the freckled, sun-kissed skin underneath. "One of my old friends showed up earlier and she took the test, because she had a hunch she might be pregnant. She must have thrown it away before leaving.."

He's silent for a moment, processing, and then he bursts into tears, upon which you just stare at him, utterly confused. Taking him into a hug, you let him rest his head against your stomach.

It's almost like he just got the news that he's pregnant, you think wryly. This is exactly how Jiseo reacted.

"Lix, honey," you say, a little softer. "It's okay."

"No, it's not," his muffled voice comes from your stomach. You can faintly feel tears soaking the fabric of your top. "I was so stressed, I thought we were gonna have a child, and around comeback season too, I was so scared trying to figure out how we were gonna manage it all-"

You shush and coo at him gently, stroking his ruffled hair, askew in all directions. "I'm sorry I scared you."

He shakes his head, his voice sounding faraway from where he's plowed his face into your middle. "I was worried for you too..."

You fight the warm feeling rising in your chest at his sincerity. He's never afraid to tell you how he feels, your Felix. You do feel bad for not realising Jiseo threw her test away and resultingly scaring the shit out of your lover, but you're glad that he cares enough to be upset about it.

Even if he was wrong.

You let your gaze wander down to where his hair is mussed against your shirt, and you can't help but notice the way his arms are wrapped so tightly around your waist, like he's afraid you'll float away if he lets go. You notice a small gash on his arm, the crimson startling against his pale, freckled skin.

You hum as he lifts his face, tear-streaked and swollen. "What'd you do to your arm?"

He sniffs. "I hit it on the doorway when I came down the stairs... I didn't even feel it."

You sigh, stroking the tiny, soft hairs at the back of his neck. "What am I gonna do with you, hmm?"

"Love me."

You chuckle. "Let's get you patched up."

a/n: listening to zero o'clock by bts while writing this and why does it fit so well . . . ttokki is sad now

[sevsgiirl]

— piss her off ‘til she hates me, pt. 1

pt. 2, pt. 3

mechanic!sevika x reader. men and minors dni.

synopsis: when the vacant house next to sevika’s finally got new tenants she didn’t think much of it. as long as her new neighbors didn’t cause any trouble, all was well. that is until she found out the neighbor had a young daughter.

word count: 9k words:

tags: age difference, alternate universe, mechanic!sevika, brat!reader, enemies to lovers, oral sex, dom!sevika, sub!reader, pet names, scissoring, fingering, hate sex, vaginal fingering.

note: for clarification, reader is 20 years old while sevika is her canon age in this (38-40)

you can check out the fic playlist here.

sevika wasn’t the buddy-buddy type when it came to her neighbors.

as someone who mostly kept to herself, she preferred to be left to her own devices, granted she wasn’t necessarily unapproachable. if you’d knock on her door to borrow some tools, she’d likely lend you hers. have some problems with your plumbing? on a good day, she’d offer to fix it herself.

she’d even attend the annual neighborhood barbecue sometimes, but she wasn’t the type to knock on doors and welcome the new people who had just moved in with freshly baked cookies. that’s something she left vander to do.

so when the vacant house adjacent to hers finally got some new occupants after the previous tenant moved out 3 months ago (a friendly old woman named babette who she would never admit to missing, she and her homemade lasagna she’d offer sevika for dinner) she didn’t think much of it.

but she was curious, so she peeked through her blinds to get a good look at the new tenants, trying to assess what she had to deal with.

when she looked, she was simply greeted by a man who looked to be in his 50s hauling out boxes - slouched posture, flannel button-up, and leather boots. he had the tiredness in his eyes that indicated he was just an everyday samaritan. she was happy about that because she liked her peace.

but before she was about to close her blinds again, a new figure caught her eye. this one younger, miles younger, who sported beaten up doc martens, ripped black shorts that ridden up too high around the rear area that sevika was quick to avert her gaze when she stared too long, and a loose fitted top that was sliced around one shoulder, leaving it exposed.

with painted black nails and eyelids adorned with dark eye shadow, sevika watched as you got out of the front seat of the moving truck and inspected the house in front of you with an intense gaze. before a small smirk made its way to your face, the kind she knew only meant trouble.

“looks great, dad!”

sevika couldn’t believe this.

𐙚 ˙ �� .˚

it’s not that sevika wasn’t fond of people younger than her.

she was just too old to handle any of their shit. not that being forty-one was geriatric by any means, but she liked her peace, and she couldn’t necessarily have that if she had someone twice younger than her living just down the block. the possibility of house parties being thrown already sending shivers down her spine.

she already had vander’s daughters out of her hair, and even then she heard from him they’re coming back home for their semester break this week so that’s another problem to deal with. you couldn’t be too far from their age range either, probably closer to vander’s eldest, violet. which relieved her in a way.

she hasn’t even spoken to you yet but she dreads the day she’ll ever need to. but it seems as though your father heard her prayers because it didn’t take long after the moving truck drove off when a sudden knock came from her front door, making her raise her eyebrow.

she opened it and just her luck she was greeted by your father, a soft smile on his face as he gave her a gentle wave “hi there, me and my daughter just moved in and I wanted to formally introduce myself.”

sevika gave him a curt nod “I noticed. welcome to the neighborhood.”

again, she wasn’t the type to knock on people’s doors and give them a formal introduction to the whole damn block. the only way she ever got to know people was when word got around about her being the town’s mechanic. she was mostly acquainted with the fathers and uncles, meanwhile the women her age she preferred to sleep with. occasional flings here and there, nothing serious.

the only people she’d consider her friends were vander and silco, and perhaps some of her co-workers back at the mechanic’s shop but they lived elsewhere.

it was hard for her to truly get along with someone, albeit she isn’t opposed to making friends, it’s just something that takes time. she’s a tough cookie.

your father, on the other hand, seemed civil enough. sevika didn’t even notice the container he carried with him until he lifted it “well, my daughter baked some brownies and I thought maybe I’d give you some. wouldn’t hurt to befriend a few folks on the first day, and well, you do live next door.”

she eyed the container while she debated whether to return the gesture or not, and as she thought long and hard about it, she didn’t want to appear like an asshole.

“care for a cup of coffee, then?”

and that’s how she found herself sitting across from your father at her kitchen table, with him sipping his coffee while she chugged her third can of beer of the day.

despite herself, your father was pretty pleasant. thirty minutes of mundane chatting and she’s already gotten to know quite a bit about him - widowed and left to take care of his only daughter, your mother dying while you were only eleven years old. breast cancer. she offered a bit of sympathy which he appreciated.

“never got remarried?” she couldn’t help but ask.

your father laughed softly, shaking his head “no, can’t. when she died a part of me died with her, and I don’t think anybody can truly fill that void. plus I don’t think my daughter would be on board. not that she wouldn’t let me, she never cared but I know she still thinks about her mom a lot.”

sevika let out a hum “I get it. my mom died when I was young too. it never got easier.”

“it doesn’t.” he replied “she’s twenty now. a sophomore in college but sometimes I do feel like she’s clinging onto that part of herself when her mom was still alive. she became a bit rebellious after that. threw herself to drinking at sixteen, I tried to stop her which worked when she finally became eighteen, but her habits still kick in.”

sevika would be lying if she said she didn’t feel bad for the old man. she didn’t have any kids and quite frankly, has no intention of having any in the near future, but she can only imagine how difficult it’d be to see your child spiral like that and have it be out of your control.

“she’s doing a lot better now?” she asked.

your father nodded, although it seemed a bit uncertain “I think so. she’s on her mid-semester break and will be back by the end of the month.”

sevika sighed internally at that, at least she won’t have to worry about you potentially becoming a problem for too long.

her and your dad conversed a bit more after that - about how he decided to move here because he a got new job in town, and how your college was located two hours away, making him think that your visits would be limited given how you don’t like traveling for long hours (again, another win for her) he also asked her about her prosthetic arm ‘bad car crash. got stuck and had to get it amputated’ she explained and he gave a sympathetic look in return.

soon, she led him up to her front door. it was nearing the evening anyway, but she surprisingly appreciated the company.

“sorry if I took up much of your time, sevika.” your father apologized and she smiled. a genuine one.

“it’s no bother. if you ever need help don’t be afraid to ask.” sevika said and she meant it.

your father offered a grateful nod, walking down her driveway and next door to his house. when sevika looked, there you were waiting for him.

you decided to change into something more comfortable since you arrived. a tight-fitted black tank top with thin straps and grey cotton shorts that exposed your legs to the cold air. you didn’t seem to be wearing a bra either and given the weather, she could notice your nipples poking through the fabric even from where she stood.

sevika shook her head. goddammit . she just made friends with your old man and here she was ogling at his daughter. she wasn’t even supposed to like you.

as your father walked up to your front door he sent her one last wave goodbye, which made you finally look at her.

for that brief moment, your eyes locked. she couldn’t decipher that look on your face when you studied her, arms crossed as you cocked your head to side while your father spoke “she’s our next door neighbor, sweetheart. sevika, meet my daughter!” she only smiled awkwardly while you continued staring at her.

suddenly, that same smirk made its way to your face again, opening your mouth to respond “hi sevika,” you said, your voice sultry and sickeningly sweet. sevika hated that it did something to her.

you didn’t give her time to acknowledge your greeting before you turned on your heel and went back inside, and she didn’t even realize her chest tightened the entire time you two made eye contact until you were finally out of sight, making her breathe normally again.

[floipenstein]

Ok I had a bunch more thoughts about this than I thought I would, and I really needed to exorcise them from my brain if this essay is gonna go on my blog. Basically, Executive Dysfunction is real, and the part of the essay I have a problem with is the implication that it's not.

Read more if you wanna read my whole hastily-written fucking rant though (not blaming you if you don't honestly).

Alright, I think this essay is great and actually describes ADHD in a very accurate way. Like this essay is totally worth a read to understand ADHD better. This person has a very good understanding of ADHD. It makes me want to pursue body doubling as a thing instead of just thinking about how it might help me. HOWEVER this is also not to say that body doubling would solve all ADHD problems. This essay is like, ALMOST actually invalidating a bunch of stuff about ADHD at the same time that it's trying to defend ADHD and explain it.

The essay does kind of address this though. It says that ADHD is a real neurotype, which is great, because it is. It points out that meds genuinely help many ADHDers. Which they do, like myself. Without meds I'm like some kind of slug. With meds, I actually have a hope of getting myself to do things, and I can actually put my thoughts together the way I want. They make me feel more like me.

I agree with some parts of what the essay is saying about how society causes a lot of problems that ADHDers have. Like people really do ingrain an individualistic mindset. A lot of people seem to think you should just be able to do stuff on your own. I've also been surprised at how many people think you shouldn't feel rewarded for doing something basic even if it was really difficult for you, which I think is in the same vein of that individualistic idea.

But I think the essay kind of also invalidates a lot of things that I would definitely struggle with even if society were very different. I think my biggest problem is with the paragraph that talks about the duality of ADHD things. "ADHDers lack focus, except for when they don't" etc. Like, all of the things in that paragraph are things that I struggle with, and they are all real, and not just real because society doesn't accommodate me enough or because clinicians see me a certain way.

Both lack of focus AND hyperfocus can and do fuck me over all the time. Without my meds, I AM emotionally volatile AND spacey. Too much for ME! Like I don't enjoy the experience! It's not just that society doesn't accept me a certain way, or that I take meds just to fit into society better. It's that ADHD symptoms fucking suck in their own right! Even if I have the day off, no responsibilities in sight, give me my fucking meds man, I want to fucking think straight.

I do also think that Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria is real. And not something caused by the way that society treats us our whole lives. And also not something that everyone goes through. That is the kind of invalidation that I don't like about this essay. Like, executive dysfunction is real, and worth identifying. This essay is so callous against the clinical definitions of ADHD that it kind of points the gun back at the victims imo.

Executive dysfunction is real and worth identifying. Like I said, this essay is great in a lot of ways. Body doubling is tits and I want to more seriously pursue it after reading this, because it will probably help me a lot. But if I want this thing on my blog, I have to make clear what parts I endorse and what parts I don't.

I think anything else I could say would basically be me rambling instead of exorcising thoughts. There. RANT OVER.

Despite how popular and effective body doubling appears to be, empirical research has not tested it as an intervention for people with ADHD at all. It’s a shockingly simple way to address a variety of problems, from a child struggling to complete his homework, to a grown adult who can’t tackle the massive pile of used clothes on her couch. Doctors prescribe stimulants to ADHDers facing “executive functioning” difficulties like these all the time. Yet no clinician has ever examined whether prescribing a body double would be an effective treatment — despite the fact that anecdotally, it addresses the problem more directly than meds do, and it doesn’t come with the risk of building up a physical tolerance or any unwanted side-effects.  To understand why body doubling is so neglected by professionals, we have to look at the flawed way that psychiatry and psychology conceptualizes the ADHDer’s experience. Professionals largely view ADHD as a disorder of motivation and attention, a disability located inside the mind that must be solved on a solely individual level. This framing makes it impossible to understand the ADHDer as a unique, neurodivergent social being interacting with a broader cultural and economic context.  Every feature of ADHD, as it is clinically described, is one of pathology and lack. ADHDers are “time blind”: they don’t have an instinct for what hour of the day it is, or how long a task takes. Nevermind that humans have relied upon time-keeping technologies for as far back as recorded history goes, suggesting that none of us approach time by instinct.  ADHDers lack focus, except for when they don’t, in which case they’re suffering from hyperfocus, and that’s actually a problem too. ADHDers are emotionally volatile — but they’re also too spacy. They dissociate from reality too much, but when they take steps to address this, they are guilty of needing too much stimulation and being too active. And they’re lazy — except for when they’re staying up very late at night working, being most productive during the hours society tells them they ought to be asleep.  If the many complex features of Autism can be best summed up by saying that we have a bottom-up processing style in a world built for top-down processors, then the best way to summarize ADHD is this: people with ADHD are highly socially motivated, but they live in a world where independence is prioritized. 

Read the rest of this essay for free on my Substack!

[pythonmoth]

cw: post-traumatic stress disorder. simon is a veteran. simon has a prosthetic leg. one talking snake. fluff. brief mentions of war. author likes Nickelback, so it will fit here one way or another.

Never Gonna Be Alone

Simon Riley x f!Reader.

Last | Next

The next time Simon sees you, he makes a fool of himself.

Tommy convinced him to buy speakers, because his phone can only do so much. They're supposed to be the best, better quality or something. He wasn't sure he believed that, but he can't connect them so that's already looking grim for him.

Riley's staring at him from the couch in the living room, belly up, and Simon's trying his best to set it all up. Really, its ridiculous. He can shoot guns, blow up in pieces and survive, but he can't set the stupid speakers.

He probably should've checked the instructions, but they're inside the box in the kitchen and he's not going to move, and Riley's nearly falling asleep so he won't disturb his daemon either.

Anyway.

It takes him ten minutes to hear a dinging sound from them.

"Right. Okay, buddy, I think I got it. Let me see if it works..." he mumbles, sitting next to Riley, and finally connecting his phone.

He didn't check the volume, because of course he didn't, so when the song starts it's too late.

Fucking Burn it the Ground by Nickelback blasts through the speakers, at 8am on a bloody Sunday. It makes him flinch so hard he drops his phone.

Riley whines, howling at him to turn it off but Simon is too busy being embarrassed and, instead of taking his phone back like a normal person would, he dives for the speakers.

Ouch, Riley sends through their bond. Simon can feel Riley's pain in his own ears.

Finally, he manages to find the button and turns them off. Face heated, he smacks his forehead with his palm. "If they didn't hate us, they surely do now. Sorry, Riley".

He reaches out to scratch under his daemon's muzzle. Riley's eyes are annoyed, but their bond is filled with fondness.

"Good doggy" Simon teases, flicking Riley's fluffy ears. "Now play dead".

His daemon chomps down on his hand at the teasing.

A knock interrupts their little bonding moment. Instantly, Riley's ears are up, tail swaying, and Simon already has an idea of who might be behind the door.

When he turns the handle, he sees you. He's momentarily stunned by the beautiful snake that's resting on your shoulders, her dark scales glistening with the morning sun, and... there's a big wet spot on your hoodie.

"Hi. You guys are loud" Viper hisses lowly, sliding down your arm until she's hovering over Riley's head, making the dog's tail sway faster. The snake grins, all fangs.

"I apologize, Viper" Simon chuckles, his amusement evident. The way your lips purse when you realize he caught your daemon's name the other day, is just adorable. "Good morning".

"Er... morning. Listen, I enjoy good music as much as everyone, but not at eight in the morning, please?" you grumble, blinking at him. The dark circles under your eyes are much bigger and darker this time. "Also, you owe me a coffee. And another hour of sleep".

Simon can't even feel embarrassed, because Riley's filling their bond with play, pretty, play, pretty. Maybe it's Simon sending the pretty part. Who cares. Simon tries to send a calming tug anyway, but Riley's not paying attention to him, fully focused on you and your daemon.

When you raise an eyebrow, waiting for him to speak, he clears his throat. "I'm so sorry. I was checking these new speakers and I... didn't know how to make them work".

"You don't talk? It's okay if you don't talk" he hears Viper hiss softly towards Riley, now down on your leg and moving closer to his daemon.

"You need help with those? I'm already awake after all" you smile. It's easy to see you're teasing, but Simon's so overwhelmed by Riley's emotions filling their bond that he nearly chokes on them, and he can't think.

"I've... I've already made them work" he manages, waving a dismissive hand at your offer. "It's alright. I'll make sure not to disturb you again".

He sees you falter, but you give him a nod, a small smile on your lips.

Ugh, Riley tugs on their bond, yuck. Or is it Simon? He's not sure.

"I wanna play. Can we stay a bit?" Viper hisses, and Simon's eyes lock with Viper. You're definitely feeling shy, if Viper's tail coiling around your ankle tells him anything.

"Viper, I'm not sure if they—" you start, flustered, but she interrupts you.

"Please?" Viper insists, looking at him. "I won't ask about your leg again, I'm sorry. Please don't be mad".

Viper looks shocked at the sudden affection, but Simon can tell she's pleased. You, however, can't look away from Riley, your lips parted in surprise.

Simon hears you yelp, your eyes wide as you stare at your daemon. Riley whines softly, instantly moving to sniff and nuzzle on Viper's head, trying to sooth her.

Simon suddenly understands the way you keep shifting from foot to foot, why you can't seem to meet his eyes properly.

It takes you a moment, but you manage to turn to Simon. He knows. He definitely know what you're feeling.

"It's okay to be curious. We're not upset at all, truly" Simon reassures you both. Riley growls lowly in agreement, stepping back from Viper. Simon, too, opens the door properly, giving you space. "I don't drink coffee, but... how about tea?"

"She's... we're both sorry about the other day. I don't stop her from asking things, but it wasn't our place to question anything like that, and it was wrong" you mumble, your hand rubbing your left arm. Shy. Shut off.

Gods, he's fucked. He's so fucked.

The soft smile you give him is enough for him to fully admit it is him calling you pretty.

"A bomb?" Viper hisses, currently curled around Riley's middle. She's truly a nosy, clingy thing. "Didn't it hurt?"

Simon can't help but smile when you grunt, clearly embarrassed by her curiosity. "Oh yeah. It hurt a lot. We're fine now".

He's not going to mention it hurts from time to time. He can't worry the pretty snake's head like that. The doctor said it was trauma and not real, anyway. With a low growl, Riley stands up carefully so Viper doesn't fall off of him and takes her outside, no doubt to show her the pond.

That leaves the two of you alone.

"How are you liking the neighborhood, Simon? You're a celebrity around here already" you tease him with a smile, nursing your tea carefully.

He can only scoff. "A celebrity? They're scared of me. But... I like it here. They're not half bad and Riley has space, so that's perfect".

"You know the bad image people have of veterans. It's not right, but it's hard to make them understand you're not gonna kill them in their sleep" you mumble, shaking your head.

Simon nods, fully aware of it. He's also too young to be a veteran in people's eyes, so that's another thing they probably don't understand. He doesn't mind, not really. They haven't bothered him or Riley, so he doesn't truly care.

"You seem okay with having a crazy veteran as your neighbor" Simon mentions, his eyes twinkling.

"Please, if you have turtles in your backyard, how bad can you be?" you say, grinning.

That's all he needed to know.

He guides you to the backyard, showing you what he did with it, tells you how he transported his fish and how he fixed it so the turtles couldn't escape the pond again. He's not even looking at you as he speaks, pointing at his fish, excited to be heard.

Not even half an hour later, you know it all about his fish, what they eat and their favorite temperature. He tells you the carp was supposed to be food, he tells you about the little alligator gar that didn't make it past two years.

He even tells you their names, not that he expects you to remember them all.

He just couldn't stop talking, not when you kept asking and asking, looking so interested.

"Okay. So the little one I had in my backyard is... Lucy?" you ask him again, sitting cross-legged in front of the pond.

"Yeah. The green one" he nods, pointing at the little troublemaker.

Both of you turn at the same time when there's a small splash on the pond. Riley's jumped in, Viper wrapped around his neck as he swims along with the fish. Her giggles make them both grin.

It's not uncommon for daemons to touch each other, but they're usually reserved about it, even shy at first. It's mostly between family, or very close friends, including partners. Probably not your neighbors.

Humans can feel what their daemon feels: touches, licks, nuzzles, scratching, but it's muffled, as if they were touched over their clothes. But daemon's are very sensitive to their humans' emotions, and are completely unreserved about it.

If they like you, or if they can't stand the sight of you, they will let you know.

Unlike humans, who like pretending and learn to mask their emotions so there's no vulnerability, daemons are true to themselves. That's why there are humans who train their daemons to "behave". Like animals, like pets.

Simon, however, is very pleased to see how shameless Riley and Viper are. It tells him you're not one to control Viper on her emotions, and he likes that, because he's the same.

It's hard, sometimes. He might be embarrassed when he tries to mask his happiness for whatever stupid reason, and Riley is next to him swaying his tail, or even when he tried pretending to be okay in front of his brother, and Riley was a ball of sadness next to him.

Hiding his crushes in high school was not easy, especially not with how chatty Riley used to be.

"He told me your hair is pretty. Did he tell you he made you a playlist? We can go out. Want to go play?"

That hasn't really changed, it seems.

"They seem to get along" you hum, leaning back on your hands as you relax, your smile radiant.

"They do" he says, meeting your eyes for a long moment. You just stare back, your expression calm.

Feeling a tug on their bonds, Riley and Viper turn to see you both, but when they realize you're lost in your little world, they both roll their eyes and keep on swimming. Riley's very careful not to move too harshly, and Viper's careful not to squeeze too much.

Finally, Simon breaks the comfortable silence, keeping his voice low. "Are you hungry? I can cook something, if you'd like".

"I'll help you" you nod, your eyes twinkling so much he has to look away for a moment.

"Very well. Lets leave them—"

And then your phone rings.

"I'm so sorry. It's from work. Just give me a moment" you grunt, looking grim.

Simon listens to you speak quickly in a language he doesn't understand, but then you turn back to him, and he knows you're not staying.

"I have to go" you confirm. He nods, standing up and holding out his hand for you. You give him an apologetic smile as you take it, standing up. "I work from home, but they need me to do it quickly. Next time, I'll tell you what I do for a living".

Next time. He likes that.

"Viper, come on" you call out, getting closer to the two daemons in the pond. He watches as you stick out your hand, very careful not to touch Riley as he gets closer, and Viper slides over your arm.

Riley's eyes are on you, and Simon wants to crawl into the tiniest cave and die, because what the fuck?

You grin at Riley and your hand twitches, as if you were ready to touch him, and Simon's sure he's going to fucking faint. But then you're taking a step back and Riley follows quickly, making sure not to get water on you when he shakes the water off.

Simon pretends his face isn't burning as he guides you to the front door.

"Can we come tomorrow?" Viper hisses, her shiny head on top of yours. "Please?"

Once again, you don't correct her, and Simon wants to eat his fist.

"Of course. Any time" he answers, his smile gentle.

When you two leave, Simon turns to Riley, who's now soaking the couch, his tail swaying softly, clearly content.

"You're fucked, buddy" Simon tells him, and Riley huffs, rolling his eyes.

Simon decides to hide his face in his daemon's fluff for the rest of the morning.

They're both fucked.

WELL, I wasn't sure I liked this update, but I've read it multiple times and I'm satisfied w it so that's fine. I love Riley and I love Viper. and, if you didn't notice, the title is also a Nickelback song.

taglist: @kittygonap @rayrayyio @lostintransist @kalieros @catsfatjoint

[theonottsbxtch]

WHEN THE WORLD GOES QUIET PT.2 | LN4

an: i'm seeing a lot of love for this and i'm glad! i hope you guys enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing this - i'm now omw to the library to write some more stories for you guys hehe

wc: 6.1k

part one

FOR DAYS, SHE MOURNED.

She barely left her bed, drifting between fitful sleep and hollow wakefulness, the hours melting into each other like wax from a candle burned too long. The world outside continued - newspapers shouted about the war, footsteps echoed in the stairwell, rain pattered softly against the windowpane - but none of it touched her. It all felt so distant, like she was floating just outside of reality, unable to reach it, unwilling to try.

The soldiers had come back two days later after the first visit. They handed her a small box - Lando’s belongings. He didn’t have much. A pocket watch, the glass cracked but the hands still ticking. A battered deck of playing cards, edges worn soft from use. A few letters he never sent to her, some half-written, some only a few lines long. A book of poetry she gave him with his name scrawled inside the cover, the pages dog-eared and stained with ink. He lied to her, he said he’d never read it. A cigarette case, dented, still holding one last cigarette as though he was going to come back and smoke it with her in the rain while she sang.

She ran her fingers over each item carefully, as if memorising the feel of them, as if holding these things would somehow bring him back. She placed the box on the small table by her bed and left it there, untouched after that, unable to look at it for too long.

A week passed. The grief didn’t lessen, but it settled into something quieter, heavier, pressing down on her ribs with every breath.

And then, on the seventh day, there was a knock at the door.

It was weak. Barely there. Just a soft, uncertain tap tap tap, as if the person on the other side wasn’t sure they had the strength to knock at all.

She ignored it at first - probably some children selling biscuits. She barely had the energy to move, let alone answer the door. But then it came again, a little stronger this time, though still unsteady.

Slowly, she pushed herself up, wrapping her dressing gown around herself as she crossed the small, dimly lit room. Her body felt leaden, her mind sluggish, and for a moment, she thought it must be one of her neighbours - maybe Mrs. Holloway from downstairs, coming to check if she was still breathing.

She unlocked the door with tired fingers and pulled it open-

And nearly collapsed where she stood.

Lando.

He was standing in front of her, barely upright, swaying slightly on his feet like a man who’d been fighting gravity for too long. His face was bruised and still slightly bloodied, one eye swollen, a cut running along his temple. His uniform was tattered, stained with dirt and dried blood, his left arm cradled against his side as if even the weight of it was too much to bear. He looked ruined. Wrecked by something that should have killed him.

But he was here. 

Alive. 

A slow lopsided grin pulled at his split lip, his voice rough and hoarse as he rasped-

“Missed me, sweetheart?”

Her breath hitched, her vision blurred. For a moment, she could do nothing but stare, her hands gripping the doorframe to keep herself upright.

Then, before she could think, before she could stop herself.

She threw herself at him.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, her body colliding with his so suddenly that he let out a low groan of pain, but she didn’t care for a brief minute. He was solid. Real. Her fingers curled into his torn uniform, her face buried in his shoulder, and the sob that has been trapped in her chest for weeks finally broke free.

He let out a shaky breath, his good arm tightening around her waist as he whispered, “Took a long bloody way home, but I got here, didn’t I?”

Home.

She pulled back just enough to look at him, her hands cradling his face, her thumbs brushing over the bruises there. He winced slightly but didn’t pull away.

“You-” Her voice cracked, raw from days of silence. “You died.”

He gave her a faint, crooked smirk. “Nearly died. Big difference, sweetheart.” His voice softened. “They shot us down over France. I-” He swallowed, something dark flickering through his bruised gaze. “I shouldn’t have made it.”

Her fingers trembled against his jaw, her heart thudding painfully against her ribs “But you did.”

“Yeah.” His voice was barely a whisper now. “Yeah, I did.”

She stared at him for a long moment, her breath uneven, her thoughts a tangled mess of grief and disbelief and absolute, crushing relief.

Then she grabbed his collar, yanked him forward and kissed him.

He made a low sound in his throat, startled, but he melted into her, his lips warm despite the cold that clung to his skin. It was desperate, messy, edged with too much pain and too many unsaid words, but neither of them cared. 

When they finally pulled apart, he let out a breathless chuckle, his forehead resting against hers. “Blimey. If I’d known I’d get a welcome like that, I’d have come back sooner.”

She huffed out a tearful laugh, skating her head as fresh tears slid down her cheeks. “You’re an idiot.”

“Yeah, well,” he murmured, his fingers brushing weakly over her wrist. “You love me anyway, don’t you?”

She didn’t really know what love was growing up, she was raised knowing that she could only love God and the Church. But here, staring at this messy boy with his messy curls and lopsided grin, she thought of how much she mourned him, the lie she voiced for him and realised that yes, she did love him.

She exhaled, her fingers still cupping his face, and nodded.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I do.”

He closed his eyes for a moment, like he was letting it sink in, letting it steady him. Then, with a small, pained sigh, he leaned into her touch and muttered-

“Reckon I might need a lie-down, sweetheart. Nearly dying’s exhausting work.”

She let out a watery laugh, shaking her head as she finally pulled him inside, shutting the door behind them.

She still didn’t know how this was possible, how he was here, when she had already mourned him. She didn’t know if she would ever stop waking up in cold sweats, thinking it had all been a dream.

But for now, he was here and that was enough for her.

Once inside, she took care of him. Took care of him in the only way she knew how, with love.

The small flat wasn’t much, but it was warm, and it was safe, and for now, that was enough. She helped him out of his tattered uniform with careful hands, breath momentarily taken away as she took in his build. Her fingers ghosted over the bruised ribs, torn skin, the places where war had left its mark on him. He hissed when she pressed a damp cloth to the cut on his temple, but he didn’t complain, only watching her with a look that made her chest tighten.

She tried not to meet his gaze, tried to focus on the task at hand. But then-

“So,” he drawled, his voice still rough, still weak, but carrying the familiar edge of teasing. “Heard you called yourself my fiancée.”

Her hands froze.

Her stomach plummeted.

Her eyes snapped up to his, wide with horror. He looked far too smug for someone who had nearly died, his bruised lips curling into something that might have been a smirk if he wasn’t so exhausted.

She stammered, struggling for words, but before she could say anything, she glanced down at her hand.

And her heart stopped.

The ring.

It was still on her left hand. She had never switched it back.

Heat flooded her face so quickly she thought she might faint. She dropped the cloth to his lap and yanked the ring off, shoving it back onto her right hand, fingers trembling, her whole body ablaze with mortification.

“That was- I had to,” she spluttered. “They wouldn’t have told me anything otherwise, and I needed to know.”

Lando let out a low chuckle, wincing at the movement. “I dunno, sweetheart. Sounds an awful lot like a proposal to me.”

She picked up the cloth and threw it at his chest.

He let out a breathless laugh, catching it before it fell to the floor, but the sound faded quickly, something heavier settling between them. She swallowed, focusing on cleaning his wounds, pretending she wasn’t still burning from the embarrassment.

“You really did that?” he asked for a moment, his voice quieter now, “You went all the way out to Bovingdon?”

She nodded, dabbing gently at his brow. “Didn’t have a choice, did I?”

Something flickered in his gaze- something unreadable, something deep. “That was dangerous darling, what if something happened to your train?”

“I needed to know, Lan.”

He went quiet after that and she continued to work, washing away the blood, the dirt, the remnants of everything he had endured. The worst of it was his ribs, bruised and maybe cracked, but there was nothing she could do except wrap them, murmuring soft apologies when he flinched beneath her touch.

When she was done, she sat back, studying her work.

“You should be in the military,” Lando muttered, voice laced with exhaustion. “Proper little nurse, you are.”

She huffed, rolling her eyes. “I would be in the military, if they let me fight.”

His gaze softened. “I reckon you’d win the whole bloody war if they did.”

She scoffed, but the corner of her mouth twitched upward. For a moment, just a moment. Things almost felt normal.

But then, Lando let out a slow breath, the teasing fading from his face.

“I lost Oscar,” he said.

Her heart clenched.

Lando’s right hand-man. His best mate. She had met him once- just once, outside the bar, both of them too drunk to be serious about anything. He had been tall, full of quick wit and easy laughter, and Lando trusted him with everything.

She didn’t know what to say.

Lando didn’t look at her, his gaze fixed somewhere far away - empty. “We were shot down over France. They got us good. We tried-” He exhaled, his hands twitching, curling into fists. “We tried to jump, but Oscar- his parachute wouldn’t open. I saw him go down. Couldn’t do a damn thing.

She reached for his hand instinctively, gripping it tightly.

“I don’t know how I made it back,” he admitted. “I ran back for Oscar, took him as far as I could and gave him a final prayer. Silly right?” he chuckled. “I took a bullet to the leg after that, nearly starved, but some French boys found me. Got me out before the Jerries could.” His throat bobbed. “But Osc-”

He didn’t finish. 

She squeezed his fingers, her heart aching. “I’m so sorry, Lando.”

He nodded once, slowly. But she knew this wasn’t something he would ever truly move past.

The war took and took and took.

And yet, somehow, against all odds. Lando had come back.

She let the silence settle between them, her fingers still wrapped around his. It wasn’t comfortable, not with the weight of what he had just said, but she knew better than to rush him. Lando seemed like the type of man who carried his grief quietly, let it sink into his bones where no one could reach it.

After a while, she exhaled softly and asked, “So, what happens now?”

Lando tilted his head back against the wall, his bruised face illuminated by the dim glow of the gaslight. He looked tired. Bone tired. But the ghost of a smirk still tugged at his lips.

“Well,” he drawled, “I’m on the injury list until I heal. Not much use to ‘em like this, am I?” He gestured vaguely to himself, to the cuts, the bruises, the way his left arm still hung stiffly at his side. “Can’t fly, can’t fight. Means I’m stuck here for a bit.”

She nodded, trying not to let the relief show too plainly on her face. He was here. He wasn’t being shipped back out - at least not yet.

Lando glanced at her, something unreadable flickering behind his eyes. “Father O’Connell said I can stay at the Church until I’m good.”

That made her pause.

“The Church?” She repeated, raising an eyebrow.

He huffed a quiet laugh, as if he had been expecting her reaction. “They’ve got a spare cot, and it’s better than the street, sweetheart.”

She bit the inside of her cheek, fighting a smile. "You? Sleeping under a roof dedicated to the Lord you don’t believe in?"

Lando smirked. "Reckon I’ll be fine, so long as the walls don’t cave in the moment I step inside."

She laughed then, shaking her head. "Blasphemous and injured. You’re on dangerous ground, Lando Norris."

"Wouldn’t be the first time," he murmured, wincing slightly as he shifted.

She hesitated for a moment, watching him carefully. He was exhausted. She could see it in the way his body sagged slightly against the chair, the way his hands trembled faintly from either pain or sheer fatigue. He was trying to keep up the bravado, but she knew better.

"Stay here."

The words left her mouth before she had fully thought them through, but as soon as she said them, she knew she meant them.

Lando blinked at her. "What?"

She crossed her arms, feigning nonchalance. "You heard me."

He raised an eyebrow, smirking faintly. "Offering up your flat to a war hero, are you?"

She rolled her eyes. "Hardly. Just an injured man who can barely stand upright."

Lando chuckled, but then he really looked at her—like he was trying to understand if she was serious. "I don’t wanna be a burden."

"You won’t be," she said, softer this time.

He studied her for a long moment, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to argue. Then, finally, he let out a small, resigned sigh.

"Alright, sweetheart," he murmured. "You win."

And for the first time in days, she felt like she could breathe.

She looked after him because someone had to.

She changed the bandages on his ribs with careful hands, wiped the dried blood from his temple, made him tea even though he grumbled that he wasn’t some fragile old man. She forced him to eat, nudging a half-stale biscuit toward him when he thought she wasn’t looking. And when his body ached too much to sit upright, she guided him to the small bed in the corner of the flat, ignoring his protests as she threw a blanket over him.

It was quiet work. Steady. Something to keep her hands busy, something to stop her from thinking too much about the fact that just two days ago, she had been mourning him.

She was pouring him another cup of tea when she spoke, her voice quieter than before. "I prayed for you."

Lando, sitting up against the headboard, glanced at her. His injuries had settled into something duller now—still painful, but less sharp, less all-consuming. He wasn’t wincing as much when he moved, but his face still bore the bruises of war.

He studied her, something unreadable in his gaze. "Did you?"

She nodded, fingers tightening around the cup. "At the church. When I thought—when I thought you were gone."

His jaw tensed slightly, as if the thought of her grieving him was harder to bear than his own suffering. Then, after a pause, he exhaled and said, "I prayed."

Her head snapped up.

Lando Hargrove, the man who scoffed at church, who smirked every time she wore her cross, who always had something sharp to say about the God she wrestled with.

She swallowed. "You mentioned, you were serious?"

He nodded, looking down at his hands. His voice was quieter now, rougher around the edges. "When I was out there. Alone. Before the French boys found me, with Oscar." His fingers curled slightly, as if remembering the feel of the earth beneath them, the cold, the hunger, the absolute isolation. "Didn’t know if anyone was listening. Didn’t know if I even believed it." His gaze lifted to hers, raw in a way she wasn’t sure she had ever seen before. "But I thought of you."

Her breath caught.

She didn’t know what to say to that, didn’t know how to unravel the knots twisting in her chest. So she just nodded, her throat too tight to speak.

The night carried on, slow and steady. She cleaned up the small mess from their tea, doused the gas lamp until only the dim glow of the streetlights filtered through the curtains. Lando had already sunk lower into the bed, exhaustion pulling at him with an unrelenting grip.

"You should sleep," she murmured.

His lips twitched. "And where are you planning on going, sweetheart?"

She hesitated. The flat was small—there was only the one bed, and the chair in the corner wasn’t much of an option.

Lando let out a quiet chuckle, shifting slightly to the side. "Come on, then. I don’t bite."

She rolled her eyes but, after a moment, relented. Carefully, she climbed in beside him, keeping a respectful distance, but the bed was small, and warmth carried between them in the sliver of space that remained.

For a while, neither of them spoke.

Then, just as her eyes were beginning to slip shut, Lando’s voice came, barely above a whisper.

"Still wearing that ring?"

Her lips twitched, but she didn’t open her eyes. "Go to sleep, Lando."

He let out a quiet, tired laugh.

And with that, for the first time in what felt like years, they both let themselves rest.

The night was still. The distant hum of the city had quieted, leaving only the occasional echo of footsteps on the cobbled streets below.

She had been deep in sleep, cocooned in warmth, when the bed jolted beneath her.

Then—

"Oscar!"

Her eyes flew open.

Lando was thrashing beside her, tangled in the blankets, his face twisted in something raw, something agonising. His breath came in short, ragged gasps, his fingers clenching around the sheets as if he were still there, still on the battlefield, still losing his best friend over and over again.

"No—Oscar—wait—"

His voice cracked, broken apart by a sob.

She moved before she could think, shifting onto her side, reaching for him. "Lando—Lando, wake up—"

But he wasn’t awake, not really. He was trapped in the depths of it, in the nightmare, his chest rising and falling far too fast, his body trembling under the weight of something she couldn’t see.

Her heart ached.

She touched his face gently, brushing damp strands of hair from his forehead. "Lando, love, it’s alright," she whispered, voice steady despite the tightness in her throat. "You’re here. You’re safe."

His breathing stuttered.

She ran her fingers through his hair, trying to bring him back. "It’s not real. You’re with me."

His eyes snapped open.

Wild. Glassy. He was still lost, still caught somewhere far away. But then his gaze landed on her—really landed on her—and something in him broke.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and then he was clutching her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the earth. His body shook, and before he could turn away, before he could hide it, she felt it—

The tears.

Hot, silent, unstoppable.

Lando Norris was crying.

She didn’t hesitate. She lifted herself up, pressing soft kisses to his damp cheeks, tasting the salt of his grief. She wiped the tears away with her lips, her hands, her whole being, as if she could take the pain from him, as if she could bear it for him instead.

His hands curled into the fabric of her nightdress, his breath shuddering. He didn’t speak, and neither did she.

Instead, she held him.

And then, quietly, she whispered a prayer.

She didn’t know if he believed. Didn’t know if she believed anymore, not fully, not in the way she used to. But she prayed anyway, murmured soft words into the hollow space between them, words for Oscar, for Lando, for the war to end, for something greater than all of this.

Lando’s breathing slowed.

His grip on her loosened, just slightly.

She stroked his hair, pressing her forehead against his temple. "Sleep, love," she whispered. "I’ve got you."

He let out a shaky breath, and for the first time that night, he let himself fall.

And she held him, long after sleep claimed him again.

The rest of the night passed in fits and starts.

Even as Lando drifted back to sleep, his body remained tense, like he was waiting to be dragged back into the nightmare. Every so often, he’d shift against her, his fingers twitching in his sleep, a quiet murmur of Oscar’s name escaping his lips.

She didn’t let go.

She kept him close, her arms a steady anchor, her warmth something solid against the cold weight of his grief. When his breath hitched, she whispered reassurances into his skin. When his body shuddered, she ran soft, soothing strokes through his hair. And when dawn finally crept through the curtains, bathing the room in a muted grey light, she barely realised she hadn’t slept at all.

Lando stirred first.

It was slow—his body unwilling, his mind reluctant—but eventually, his brow furrowed, and he let out a low groan, pressing his face into the pillow.

She smiled softly. "Good morning."

A pause. Then, groggy, voice rough with sleep, he muttered, "Bloody hell."

She huffed a quiet laugh. "That bad, is it?"

He peeled one eye open, squinting at the light before shifting onto his back with a deep exhale. His gaze flickered to her, taking in the way she was propped up beside him, watching him with something gentle and knowing.

"Did I wake you?" he asked, voice lower now, almost hesitant.

She hesitated before answering. "You were already asleep when I came back," she murmured, "but you weren’t resting."

Lando’s jaw tightened. He looked away, exhaling slowly through his nose. "I—" He swallowed, then shook his head, running a hand over his face. "Shit."

"You don’t have to say anything," she said, watching him carefully. "Not now. Not ever, if you don’t want to."

Lando was silent.

And then—quietly, reluctantly—he said, "I dream about it."

She stayed quiet, letting him find his own words.

His fingers curled slightly into the sheets. "Sometimes it’s just flashes. The airfields, the engines, the bloody gunfire. Other times…" He exhaled sharply, his throat bobbing. "Other times, it’s Oscar. Every time I close my eyes, I see him. He’s still there, still trying to hold on, and I can’t—I can’t—" His voice faltered, raw and uneven.

She reached for his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

Lando blinked hard, then let out a small, humourless chuckle. "God, you must think I’m pathetic."

Her grip tightened. "I think you’re human."

He glanced at her, something vulnerable in his expression. Then, without a word, he squeezed her hand back.

The moment lingered.

Then, as if suddenly aware of their closeness, Lando cleared his throat and made a weak attempt to sit up.

She rolled her eyes. "Slow down, soldier."

"I was never a soldier," he muttered. "Just a bloody pilot who got too good at running from death."

She didn't argue. Not about that.

Instead, she shifted out of bed, stretching her stiff limbs. "Come on, then. You need tea, and I need breakfast."

Lando gave her a lopsided smirk. "That an offer to cook for me, sweetheart?"

She arched a brow. "You think I’d let you in my kitchen with your injuries? You can barely stand."

Lando chuckled, wincing slightly as he swung his legs over the side of the bed. "Reckon I should milk this while I can, then."

She threw a pillow at him.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, the morning felt light.

The days passed in something dangerously close to peace.

For the first time in months—years, perhaps—she felt as though time had slowed, folding itself neatly around the four walls of her flat. Outside, London was still at war. Air-raid sirens still screamed through the streets, rations still stretched thinner by the day, and grief still clung to the city like fog. But inside, in the small space she shared with Lando, there was warmth.

Routine.

Something almost like a life.

She looked after him, of course. Changed his bandages when he let her, scolded him when he tried to do too much, forced food into his hands when he muttered that he wasn’t hungry. But he, in his own way, looked after her too.

He made her laugh, sometimes without meaning to. He occupied the space beside her like he belonged there, like there was nowhere else in the world he’d rather be. He helped her with supper, standing over the stove with a cigarette perched between his lips, poking at potatoes with the wrong end of a wooden spoon.

One evening, after she had taken a pan from his hands with a sigh and done it herself, he leant against the counter and smirked.

"You know," he mused, watching her work, "you’d make a bloody good wife."

She nearly dropped the spoon.

The words caught her off guard, lodging themselves in a place she couldn’t quite reach, settling into the corners of her mind like an ink stain.

She glanced at him, half-expecting some cocky grin, but his expression was unreadable. He was watching her in a way that made her chest feel tight, made her hands shake ever so slightly as she turned back to the pan.

"Shame, that," she said, forcing lightness into her voice. "Don’t suppose anyone’s taking applications."

Lando hummed. "Well, I dunno about that," he said. "I did hear you’ve already got a fiancé."

She groaned, covering her face with her hands. "I knew you wouldn’t let that go."

"Course not." He grinned, stepping closer. "Imagine my surprise, waking up from the dead to find myself engaged. You could’ve at least let me propose first."

She swatted at him half-heartedly, but the warmth in her cheeks betrayed her.

It stuck with her more than she wanted it to.

After that, the thought wove its way into everything.

When she was brushing flour from her hands after baking the world’s most pitiful loaf of bread, she caught him watching her, and the words you’d make a bloody good wife flickered through her mind before she could stop them. When he reached for something on a high shelf, when he nudged her with his shoulder as he passed by, when he said ta, love with that easy grin—

It settled in her chest like a secret, like a whisper of something neither of them dared say out loud.

The week and a half passed like that. Cooking together, filling the flat with the scent of onions and broth, losing themselves in the simple pleasure of warm meals and soft laughter. The war felt distant, just for a little while.

She knew it wouldn’t last.

But God, she wished it would.

Another week passed, a haze of quiet mornings, warm meals, and the occasional conversation that lingered too long, as if neither of them wanted to break the fragile cocoon they’d woven around themselves. There were days when they barely noticed the outside world at all, as though the war had turned into nothing more than a distant rumble, something happening on the other side of a window that had been carefully closed.

The mornings had become routine—her getting up first, brewing tea, him shuffling into the kitchen in a half-awake stupor, ruffling his hair as he grumbled about being woken. The evenings fell into a rhythm too, with them sitting on the small couch, half a room away, each wrapped in the comfort of the other’s company, while the world continued its war somewhere beyond the windows.

One morning, she woke with the warm weight of Lando's arm around her, his breath soft against the back of her neck. She hadn’t realised it at first, but somehow, during the night, he had pulled her close, and now she lay pressed to his chest, his hold tight, as if he couldn’t bear to let go.

She shifted, careful not to disturb him, and the soft sound of bells reached her ears—faint at first, a distant chime that grew louder. She frowned, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t the air-raid sirens, and it wasn’t a church bell for a funeral. No, this was different. This was... celebration?

She carefully pulled herself out of his arms, wincing at the small space between them, and padded quietly across the room. Her fingers brushed the curtains aside, and she peered out of the window.

The street below was buzzing with life. People were spilling into the streets, laughing, shouting, and cheering. Flags were being waved. And there—there were the children, dancing in circles, holding hands like they were marking the end of something heavy. The sounds of joyous voices drifted up to her.

Her heart began to pound. No... it can’t be…

"Lando," she whispered, her breath catching in her throat.

She turned back toward the bed, her heart thundering as she crossed the room in a few quick strides. She leaned over him, shaking him gently at first, then more urgently. "Lando, darling—wake up!"

He groaned, rolling over and blinking up at her with a dazed expression, his messy hair sticking up in all directions. His face softened when he saw her, but it didn’t last long as the sound of the bells filled the room.

"What—?" He froze, his eyes suddenly clear, his breath catching.

She couldn’t contain the excitement in her voice, her hands gripping his shoulders. "Lando, the war—it’s over. They’re celebrating. Can’t you hear the bells?"

His eyes widened, then narrowed as he slowly pushed himself up, confusion flickering across his face before realisation dawned on him. The sound of the bells reached his ears, clearer now, and he could hear the cheering too. The world outside, the noise, the celebration—it was undeniable.

He sat up, blinking as he rubbed a hand over his face, disorientated for a moment as if he were still in a dream. Then, a half-laugh, half-sob escaped him, and for a moment, he didn’t move. He just looked at her, his gaze flickering over her face.

"Bloody hell," he muttered under his breath. "Is this... is this really happening?"

She nodded, her own disbelief mirrored in her wide eyes. "It’s true, Lando. They’re celebrating. The war’s ended. It’s finished."

He sat there, silent for a beat too long, before shaking his head as if to clear it. Then, he suddenly sprang from the bed, moving quickly, as if the news had sparked something deep inside him, something that couldn’t be contained.

In a few long strides, he was at the window beside her, his eyes scanning the crowds below. People were hugging, crying, dancing in the streets. And for the first time in years, there were no sirens, no orders to follow, no planes overhead.

Lando’s hand reached for hers, his fingers squeezing with a kind of urgency she hadn’t felt in days. His voice was soft, still somewhat stunned. "It’s over," he whispered, his lips curving in something fragile—something that might have been a smile, if not for the look of wonder in his eyes.

She nodded, her heart swelling with something she didn’t know how to name. "It’s over, Lando."

He turned to face her, his hand still holding hers, his thumb rubbing along her knuckles in a slow, tender motion. His eyes softened, the hardness that had lingered around the edges of them for so long finally ebbing away. "What now, then?" he asked quietly, as if the question itself was almost too much to ask after everything.

She thought about it for a moment, the uncertainty of the future heavy in the air between them, but the weight of the moment didn’t seem as daunting now. The war had ended. The world was open. And somehow, impossibly, they had made it.

"I don’t know," she replied, her voice soft, "but we’re still here. And that’s enough for me."

Lando smiled then, the warmth returning to his face, and for the first time since she’d met him, it wasn’t just a smirk or a teasing grin—it was something full of hope, something genuine.

Then, without another word, he leaned down and kissed her.

The moment his lips met hers, the world outside—the cheers, the bells, the war that had just ended—ceased to exist.

Lando kissed her like he had waited his whole life to do it, like he had been holding it back for weeks, months, maybe even longer. His hands cupped her face, rough and warm, his fingers sliding into her hair as he pulled her in like she was the only thing tethering him to the earth.

She gasped against his mouth, barely catching her breath before he kissed her again, deeper this time, more desperate, more real. Her hands clutched at his shirt, fisting the fabric like she needed to hold onto something solid, like if she let go, she might slip away into whatever fever-dream this felt like.

His body was warm against hers, his breath uneven as he pressed her back against the wall, his lips trailing from her mouth to her jaw, then to the hollow of her throat. She shuddered at the feeling, at the way his hands mapped out every inch of her like he wanted to memorise her in case she vanished before his eyes.

She felt alive.

After everything—after loss and grief, after nights spent in silence, after waking up to a world that had been at war for too long—this was the only thing that felt real. This moment, here, with him.

His forehead pressed against hers as he caught his breath, both of them dizzy from the weight of it all. His voice was low, rasping against her lips, breathless and full of something she couldn’t quite name.

"Well, what to do with my life now?" he murmured, his mouth quirking into something like a smirk, "s’pose I’ll just live here then. With my fiancée."

She let out a breathless laugh, her hands still tangled in his shirt. "Oh, will you now?"

"Reckon so." He grinned, but there was something warm and certain behind it. "Would be a bit odd for me to be staying with a woman I’m not engaged to, don’t you think? The people they’ll talk and your reputation. It’ll be ruined."

She raised an eyebrow. "Lando, you do know you never actually asked me, right?"

For a second, he looked taken aback, as if the thought had never even crossed his mind. But then, without hesitation, he stepped back, took her right hand in his, and before she could say another word—

He dropped onto one knee.

Her breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering wildly as she watched him, watched the way his fingers gently pried the ring from her right hand and held it between them.

His eyes found hers, and for the first time, there was no teasing, no bravado—just Lando, raw and real, looking at her like she was the only thing that had ever mattered.

"I haven’t got a real ring," he said, voice quiet, steady, "not yet, anyway. But I’ll get one. I swear it." He swallowed, his thumb brushing against the band between his fingers. "I’ll find a job—something stable. I could go to school, or work at Billy’s pharmacy, or whatever pays enough to get us something real, something good. And then..."

He took a breath, his lips quirking up into a lopsided smile.

"Then, if you’ll have me, I’ll marry you proper. But for now, all I can do is ask."

He reached for her left hand, slipping the ring onto her finger where it belonged.

"So what d’you reckon, sweetheart?" His voice was softer now, his eyes never leaving hers. "Marry me?"

She stared at him, her chest tightening, her whole body light and heavy all at once.

And then, with the weight of the war finally lifting, with the streets outside alive with celebration, and with the man she loved on his knee before her—

She nodded.

"Yes," she breathed, tears pricking at her eyes. "Yes, Lando."

And before he could even stand, she threw herself at him, kissing him again like she would never stop.

the end.

taglist: @alexisquinnlee-bc @carlossainzapologist @oikarma @obxstiles @verstappenf1lecccc @hzstry8 @dying-inside-but-its-classy @anamiad00msday @linnygirl09 @mastermindbaby @iamred-iamyellow @isaadore @driverlando

[absurdthirst]

The Woman He Needs {Dave York x Plus Sized!F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 18.7k

Warnings: Infidelity, dom/sub dynamic, unbalanced power dynamic, sugar baby/daddy-ish arrangement, body image issues, fat phobia, oral sex (male receiving), teasing, edging, rough sex, choking, cum play, mentions of a breeding kind, asphyxiation/ breath play, pregnancy, mentions of abortion, hints of violence, threats, demands to continue a pregnancy, confessions, Carol finds out, attack on a pregnant woman, divorce, happy endings

Comments: Dave York's assistant and very own personal sex toy, you are completely dedicated to giving him whatever he wants. Even knowing that he is married. Making it even more complicated when the situation changes.

Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers

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|| MasterList || Dave York MasterList ||

Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

“Mr. York.” You knock on the door and open it less than an inch to see if your boss is busy. The file in your hand is one that he had requested, but that doesn’t mean that he’s not already on a conference call or something. He’s still wearing his suit jacket, not taken off yet but his tie is already pulled loose, a look that you love on the handsome DIA agent. He waves you in and you push the door open wider, knowing that you couldn’t fit through some small crack, you are too plump for that. “I have that file you wanted.” Dave York was a meticulous agent and often demanded information quickly. 

Dave looks up at you, a smirk on his face as he watches you set the file down on his desk. “Thank you.” He says, his eyes dragging down your figure. You’re wearing that dress he loves and you look fucking fantastic. “Shut the door.” He orders, setting his pen down and you shut the door behind you, leaning against it. “Come here.” He orders, pointing at the space in front of him beside his desk. You slowly walk over to him and stand before him as he turns his chair to face you. “Take them off.” He orders and your eyes widen, “take what off?” You ask, innocent eyes staring at him and he chuckles. “Those panties I bought you. Take. Them. Off.” He orders, “now.”

You bite your lip, cunt clenching at the authority in his tone. You know that he would strip them off of you if you refused, probably ripping them in the process and they are nice panties. It should be weird that your boss buys your underwear, but he fucks you enough that its almost his job to provide panties with as many as he ruins. “Yes sir.” You demure, bending down slightly as you reach under your dress to slide your panties down your thighs. 

Dave holds his hand out and you place the lace in his palm. “Good girl. Now, I want you to get under my desk and take my cock out. I have a call to make and it’s going to be boring. I don’t like being bored. I want you to entertain me.” He says, shoving the underwear in his desk drawer. “Are you going to keep me waiting?” He asks, eyebrows raised as you look at him a moment too long.

Your mouth waters, knowing exactly what he wants. The space under his desk will fit you, it’s been something that you’ve checked before. Dave wants you to suck his cock while he’s on the phone and you glance back at the door. It’s a good thing you had set the phone system to go to messages, knowing that he could have you under his desk for hours. Moving over to the desk, you kneel down to crawl underneath. 

Dave is already half hard for you. Your perfume he bought you wafting into his office from your desk right outside coupled with your sweet voice over the phone has him ready for you. You fumble slightly as you work his pants open and you pull his half hard cock out. “Shit.” Dave grunts when you wrap your fingers around his length. He scans his email, looking for the number he needs to call while he hardens in your grip.

You love when he is filthy. Picking up his desk phone and starting to punch in numbers while you stroke his cock until he’s fully hard. “Don’t fucking play around.” He growls, making you smirk slightly under his desk and take your hand away to spit in it, wrapping around his cock again and slicking him up. He grunts at the wetness and you lean forward to press your tongue to the slit. Wondering if he had fucked Carol last night, it was Thursday and she always wanted sex after watching Grey’s Anatomy.

“Hey, Davis. Just wanted to follow up with the reports from the latest mission. Yeah, I got my secretary to type it - shit - sorry. Yeah, she’s a good girl.” Dave groans slightly on the last part, your mouth engulfing his cock and he makes a fist as he grips the phone. Your mouth is so fucking hot and wet around his cock. Carol didn’t jump him last night and he was grateful but he’s pent up and ready to cum.

You preen quietly around his cock, knowing that praise was meant for you. Taking him deeper into your mouth and down your throat before you swallow around his length. Loving the way he twitches on your tongue. You’re going to drip onto the carpet under his desk, sucking his cock always making you wet. It’s why he took your panties, he loves seeing how wet you get from pleasuring him. Calling you his filthy, cock hungry whore. You love it. Your body isn’t slim and perfect, you’re plus sized but Dave loves fucking you for some reason.

Dave exhales deeply through his nose, listening to Davis ramble on about the logistics of the mission and the financials but Dave doesn’t give a fuck. He just needs to get this call out of the way. He reaches down to caress your cheek, loving the way he can feel the bulge of his cock against your skin. “Yeah. I think that’s a good move.” He tells Davis and he tells you as you hollow your cheeks around him.

He’s already starting to throb on your tongue, the taste of his pre-cum smearing around your mouth. He must be pent up. Him and Carol obviously didn’t have sex yesterday and so you want to make this good for him. You know you don’t have Dave, he’s married, he has a family. But he wants you for now, so you try to give him everything he wants from you sexually.

“Just like that.” He tells Davis and you. Davis is reciting the wording on the report and you are blowing him with an expertise that Dave taught you from that first time. You moan around his cock and he twitches in your mouth. He’s so close. His hand slides lower to your throat, gripping it slightly and his grip on the phone tightens.

It’s his signal that he’s about to cum. Your cunt clenches around nothing as you try to open your throat as much as possible. If Dave is already about to cum, he’s either pent up from stress or he didn’t fuck Carol last night. Either way, you are about to get a thick load of cum spurting down your throat and he would be mad if you let one drop get on his pants or your dress. You reach up and squeeze his thigh, already starting to swallow around him as you bob on his cock. 

Dave grunts while Davis rambles down the line about the report but Dave's cock twitches as he starts to cum down your throat. You swallow around him, making him close his eyes as he grips the phone and his grip on your neck tightens as he feels you swallowing every damn drop. "Fuck, that's good." He grunts and Davis says down the line, "thanks, boss."

His salty seed slides down your throat and you moan quietly around his length. Careful not to be too loud so Davis wouldn’t hear. Gasping when he finally quits cumming and you pull off his cock. Holding him gently and pulling out a handkerchief to dry him off so you can tuck him back into his pants and wipe your mouth. 

Dave inhales deeply, “I gotta go Davis. Sounds like you got it handled.” Dave slams the phone down and pulls back from his desk, looking down at you as you lick your lips. “Sit on my desk and spread your legs, sweetheart.” He orders, “I wanna see how wet you got sucking my cock.”

It’s hard to smirk as you are crawling out from under a desk, but you manage. Standing up and sitting on the edge of his desk as you slide your dress up to show Dave your soaked cunt. You could feel how slick you are as you moved and you know he will be very pleased. “Soaked,” you coo softly, your throat a little rough from deepthroating his cock. 

Dave hums, admiring your slick folds, and his hands slide along your thick thighs, squeezing the flesh as he leans in to smell the heady scent of your arousal. “So wet for me. You look like you need me to make you cum.” He coos, sliding his fingers through your wet folds. Your moan makes him chuckle and he pulls his fingers away. “Baby…” You whine and he slaps your pussy. “You know what to call me.” He growls and you pant, “sir. Please.” He loves hearing you beg but he loves to leave you squirming even more. He slaps your pussy again, your slick on his palm, “back to work. I want that report from Davis proofread before I get it.”

You whimper, loving and hating how you are being denied. “Yes sir.” You agree breathlessly, standing on wobbly legs, pressing your thick thighs together. You push your dress down. “May I have my panties back?” You ask, nodding when he just stares at you. You’re not getting them back obviously. “I’ll get right on that, sir.”

Dave smirks when you exit his office, gingerly walking from the arousal slicking up your thighs. He loves working you up, making you beg him to fuck you. A few hours pass by and Dave calls your name, “I want my lunch. Can you get it for me?” He asks, knowing you’ll rush out to get it but he’s not hungry for that sandwich he gets most days from down the street. No, he wants you. He’s hungry for you.

“Yes sir.” You quickly lock your computer and stand to go into his office. Most days you know his order by heart, but you always double check in case he has a craving for something different. Gathering your purse and your keys, you knock on his door frame and try not to smile when he looks up from his computer. “Would you like your regular order?” You ask softly. 

Dave raises his eyebrows, pleased that you ask in case he wants to try something else. “The usual will suffice.” He says coolly and you nod, spinning around. His eyes drop down to your ass and he watches you leave. He licks his lips and turns back to his computer, continuing to read the file on his next op.

Running down to the deli that Dave loves gives you a chance to get in your steps. Deciding to walk instead of driving, changing from your heels to your tennis shoes for the exercise. You constantly ignore the dismissive looks, the skepticism as you hustle by. You’ll order Dave his sandwich and a salad for yourself. 

When you return, Dave looks up to see you carrying his sandwich into his office and he smirks at you, "thanks, sweetheart." He takes the sandwich from you, "go take your lunch and come back here when you're done." He orders, loving the way you nod and hustle out of the room.

You eat at your desk. Aware that Dave could call for you at any moment, that he could need something. Even when you are taking lunch, you know that anything could interrupt that at any point. DIA issues don’t conform to normal hours. Pulling out your own container, you push away the salad dressing, knowing you don’t need the extra calories. Your bottle of water is what you will drink with it, keeping everything as nutritious as possible. 

Dave finishes his sandwich, balling up the wrapper and tossing it into the trash and he decides to grab a coffee. You will be eating and he doesn't want to interrupt you on your break. He makes his way out of his office and sees you sitting at your desk with a salad, dressing on the side. "How the hell can you eat a salad without dressing?" He asks, leaning against the door frame.

You look over at him, lifting a brow at his obvious disdain for your meal. “One bite at a time.” You hum, forking up another bite of the undressed greens and chew, looking up at him. He’s so sexy as he leans there and you wonder again why the hell he touches you. Sure, he’s not as fit as he was when he first joined the DIA, but he was still in much better shape than you have ever been. “It’s healthy and I need to watch my calories.” You smirk slightly. “Already got my protein.” 

Dave scoffs, pushing off of the door frame and he strides over to your desk. He picks up the small pot of dressing and opens it, pouring it over your salad. "Life is too short to eat boring ass leafy greens. You are fucking perfect like you are. Eat your salad with the dressing to be healthy but enjoy your food." He says, setting the empty pot down on your desk.

You stare at him for a moment, wondering why he would ruin your lunch like that. “Okay.” You put your fork down and pick up your water bottle. “Are you needing something else, sir?” You ask politely, taking a drink of water. “You are waiting on me to finish?” 

"Take your time. I do want to see you in my office after you're done." He says and decides to use the bathroom while you are finishing your lunch. "Eat up, sweetheart. You need the energy." He winks and makes his way to the bathroom down the hall.

You smirk slightly, knowing what that means and you quickly toss the rest of the salad in the trash. Rushing off to the bathroom yourself since you are sure that Dave will want to fuck you when you get back to his office. He’s quicker than you, already behind his desk once more when you come back to the hallway outside his door where your desk is positioned. “You wanted to see me?” You ask, slightly breathless after hurrying through your own bathroom ritual. 

Dave nods, his expression serious, and he gestures to the door, "come in and lock it." He demands, watching as you follow his order. "Come here and pull your dress up. I want you to sit on my desk, spread your legs." He orders, his cock twitching in his pants.

You walk towards the desk, pulling up your dress as you go and ignoring the way you imagine your thighs jiggle as you do. Watching as he pushes back from the desk to allow you to move past him and sit on it like you had earlier. Thankful that the desk is sturdy enough to hold you, not even creaking when you sit down and spread your legs like you had been ordered. It’s good it wasn’t one of those glass top things, it would never have supported you. 

Dave’s dark eyes trail along your figure down to your pussy. God, you look delicious and he wants to devour you but right now, he wants to tease you. His fingers trail along your thighs until he is sliding them through your folds. “Want you to keep quiet and cum on my fingers.” He demands, rubbing your clit with his thick digits.

Your eyes close, head tilting back as you suppress a moan. Burying it deep inside, but you love the way his thick fingers caress your skin. Knowing exactly how to touch you from the second time he had fucked you. It’s wrong, but you don’t care when he pulls orgasms out of you as easily as he does. You are a distraction, a comfort to him when he can do the things to you that he can’t or won’t do to his wife and in return, you get mind blowing pleasure. You bite your lip, holding the edge of the desk to keep from rocking forward to meet his fingers, knowing he wouldn’t like you to try to take control. 

Dave watches your eyelashes flutter as he pushes two thick digits into your tight cunt. You moan softly and he curls them inside of you, twisting his wrist so he can press his thumb to your clit. He loves how you take whatever he gives you. You take it with a moan like a depraved whore. His whore.

He’s going to let you cum. Your next moan is bitten off and you press your lips together to keep quiet. You can’t let anyone passing by hear what he’s doing to you in this office. Leaning back onto his desk even more while he does what he wants with you. “Dave.” you whimper breathlessly. 

He watches you with a smirk, pumping his fingers into your needy pussy and he loves the way you struggle to keep quiet. ��You gotta be quiet. Otherwise everyone in the office will know what a slut you are for me. How you take your boss’s cock.”

He loves mocking you. Making fun of how desperate you get for him. Smirking as he stands over you, his fingers buried inside you and looking as if he could be doing anything. You bite your lip harder as he curls his fingers up and presses against that spongy spot deep inside you. 

Dave pumps his fingers a little faster, loving the way your jaw drops and he focuses on that spot that makes your thighs shake. He loves watching you take what he gives you without complaint. Carol would be moaning about how he “isn’t getting the right spot” or “your fingers aren’t thick enough.” You take what he gives you and you fucking love it.

You swear that you are surprised you don’t leave an impression on the desk from where your fingers dig in, you hold it so tight. Hanging on for dear life while he pumps those thick fingers deep into your cunt and makes you feel like the rubber band in your stomach is about to break. “D-Dave.” you gasp out, wanting permission to cum and you are so close now that your thighs are shaking. 

“That’s it, sweetheart. Always so good for me. Always so fucking good. Want you to cum for me.” He demands, curling his fingers a little more and you break for him. You bite down on your lip and clench down on his fingers, your head thrown back and he chuckles as you whine quietly.

Dave never immediately pulls his fingers away when you cum, something you are eternally grateful for. Enjoying the trembling aftershocks as he works you through your high and pulls pleasure from you like a skilled surgeon. Fingering you until your walls are done quivering.

He loves the way you slump slightly and he withdraws his fingers from your pussy. “Gonna fuck you now. And you are gonna take what I give you. Take my cock out.” He demands, reaching out to squeeze your tits through your dress.

You whimper, enjoying the rough squeeze and fumble with his belt to pull his hard cock out of his pants. Wrapping your hand around it and pumping it firmly even though it is fully hard from making you cum. Still unable to believe he wants to fuck you.

He bats your hand away after letting go of your tits, and he shuffles closer, pressing the head of his cock to your folds. He pushes into you with a groan and he surges forward to press his lips to your neck when he’s pressing against your cervix.

You whimper, closing your eyes and your hands hold onto his shoulders. Squeezing him tight in your cunt and enjoying the way he groans and twitches inside you. “Fuck.” You gasp quietly, “so good, Dave.”

He grabs your hands, pulling your arms behind your back, and he keeps your wrists together. He arches your back and kisses down your neck, biting on the juncture of your shoulder where it can be hidden by your sensible cardigan. “You always take me so fucking well.” He groans just as the phone rings. “Keep quiet.” He demands, keeping your wrists in his grip and he reaches for the phone, picking it up with his free hand. “York.” He answers and he hears the voice of his wife. “Hey, baby. I wondered what you wanted for dinner tonight.” She coos and Dave continues rocking into you. “The girls said something about meatloaf.” He says nonchalantly as he fucks you a little harder.

You grit your teeth, trying not to make a sound as Dave casually talks to his wife with his cock buried inside you. It’s both thrilling and insulting at the same time, making you wish you had the guts to moan. You curl your hands into fists and bare down on his cock as hard as you can as he fucks you.

Dave chokes at the way you grip his cock inside of you, and he gives you a warning look. “Behave.” He mouths and you smirk, clenching around him again. He shakes his head and continues to discuss dinner with Carol. “Yeah. I won’t be late. Okay, honey. See you later. Yeah, I love you too. Bye.” He says and slams the phone down in the cradle, “you’re a naughty girl.” He tuts, gripping your chin in his hand. “Open your mouth.” He demands and you don’t obey him right away. He squeezes your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth, and he leans closer to spit in your mouth.

You moan quietly, loving how filthy he is when he pushes your mouth closed. “Swallow it.” He orders, snapping his hips forward harshly and making you choke as you swallow his spit. His cock is splitting you in two and you can’t help but wonder how he has the fucking stamina to fuck both you and Carol all the time. You know that if his cock is this good she must want it all the time. You do.

He loves the way you submit to him, take what he gives you without complaint. He hisses your name and lets go of your jaw and your wrists to grab your thighs, lifting them higher on his hips so he can sink deeper inside of you. “You are a dirty slut. My dirty slut. Say it. Tell me who you are.” He demands, narrowing his eyes at you.

“Yours.” You whimper instantly. “Your dirty slut, all yours.” You are breathless when he pushes your legs back, your tits jiggling from the force of his thrusts and you can’t even look over your stomach to watch his cock disappearing into your cunt, but you can feel it. “Your slut, only yours.”

He looks down at where you are taking him. You always take him so well. You are tight and wet and you let him do what he wants to you. Carol doesn’t like anything except missionary and he’s a man who gets easily bored. “That’s right. Mine.” He growls, thrusting harder.

You have to slap your hand over your mouth when you squeal, not wanting anyone to hear you. Taking his rough thrusts and loving how his cock shreds up inside you. He always hits perfectly and you feel your body tensing again, close to another orgasm.

He should deny your orgasm but he doesn’t want to. He needs to keep you sweet. He needs you to want him, to need him. He likes being needed. His cock twitches inside of you, and he slides his hand down to rub your clit, wanting to feel you clamp down on his cock.

“Dave….Dave.” Your whimpers are barely audible, but you know he hears them over the slick sounds of his cock pounding into your cunt. “Fuck baby, oh god.” Your eyes close the second your body locks up, convulsing under his as his fingers throw you over the edge. Shaking apart on his desk violently as your orgasm crashes through you.

Your orgasm makes him groan, eyes closing at how tight you squeeze him, soaking his cock enough to make the slick sounds of sex even louder in the small office. “Shit. That’s it. That’s - you’re such a good girl for me.”

You bask in his praise, soaking it up to hold onto when you’re alone tonight and Dave is with his picture perfect family. You shouldn’t be jealous, but you are and his praises help soothe that beast inside you. You whimper again, wanting to feel him cum. To drip him for the rest of the night until you clean up. “Dave.”

He grunts as he pushes into you, his cock pulsing as he gets closer to his climax. “Fuck. So fucking tight.” He hisses as you clench around him again and he pants, nostrils flaring as he thrusts deep. “Shit. I’m gonna cum and you’re gonna take it all. Fill that pussy up.” He hisses as he thrusts deep and throbs, painting your walls with his cum.

You whine in absolute delight at the heat that floods you. It won’t be as much as when you sucked his cock, but it’s enough to ruin your panties if he gives them back. You sigh softly, trying to catch your breath as you watch him ride out his orgasm, jaw clenched and eyes dark.

Dave closes his eyes as he twitches inside of you. Fuck, you are so goddamn good around him. He loves how you take whatever he gives you. He groans as he withdraws from you, his cum pooling at your entrance already and he reaches into his drawer to pull out your panties. "Want you to put these on and keep my cum in you until you go home."

“Yes sir.” You take the panties from him, climbing off the desk and quickly slipping them on. Taking a moment to fix your appearance so you can go back out to your desk and gather your things. It’s time to go home and you know he needs to leave quickly to spend time with his daughters. “Anything else you need, Mr. York?” You ask professionally. “Or may I go home for the evening?”

Dave tucks himself away, buckling his belt. "You can go home for the night. Tomorrow, I want you to wear that red number I bought you." He smirks and walks over to you, gripping your chin before you open the door, "and keep your weekend free. Carol is taking the girls to her mom's house so I want to come to yours and spread you out on that mattress I bought you and keep you there until the sheets are soaked."

Your just fucked cunt clenches and you nod while he still holds your chin. “Yes sir.” You agree breathlessly, knowing he would be rough and making it hard for you to walk by the time he’s through with you. He will walk into your house like he owns it, because he does. He had bought a house and installed you in it, claiming your apartment was a piece of shit and he didn’t want to get robbed when he wanted to come over and fuck you. “All weekend?”

"Alllll weekend." He confirms, "Carol will be gone and I want you to be ready for me. I am going to use that little pussy until you beg me to stop. And you never beg me to stop, do you baby? You are fucking desperate for my cock." He chuckles, caressing your cheek.

Your cheek burns under his hand, knowing that it’s pathetic how badly you crave him. He’s making fun of you again and like the masochist you are, you enjoy it. Knowing that he is somehow addicted to you because of it. “I am.” You agree quietly. “Always want your cock.”

He loves to hear that. Loves the way your lower lip quivers at the admittance and he chuckles, rubbing your lower lip with his thumb. “Prepare your ass for me. That’s what I want first when I come over Friday night.” He demands, knowing you have the toys he bought for you to keep at your house.

Biting your lip, you nod. Distracting yourself from trying to lean in to kiss Dave. He sometimes didn’t want to kiss you and after he pushed you away that first time, you’ve refrained from trying again. Feeling humiliated enough at being reminded that you are just a fuck for him. “Yes sir.” You agree and feel proud when he smiles. “You should go home.” You remind him softly. “The girls will be eager to see you.”

“Carol is waiting. She made meatloaf and I fucking love her meatloaf.” He smirks and lowers his hand from your cheek. “See you tomorrow, sweet cheeks.” He winks and grabs his jacket from his chair, shrugging it on and he grabs his briefcase. “Text me a photo of your cum filled cunt when you get home. Gimme something to think about when Carol wants me to fuck her later.”

Your smile tightens but he doesn’t notice, because you’ve turned your back to head out to your desk. “Yes sir.” You answer, as if there would be any other answer to give him. You don’t deny Dave, ever. Gathering your own coat and purse, you busy yourself with getting ready to leave as he walks out of his office. “Good night.” You murmur, expecting him to just walk past to the elevator.

Dave winks at you as he walks past you and down the hall to the elevator. You gather your things, walking gingerly as his cum slicks your panties, and you manage to catch the elevator just as Dave and a few others from the floor step on. Dave and you end up pushed towards the back and his hand wastes no time finding your ass under your dress. “Big plans for the weekend, York?” One of the guys asks Dave who clicks his tongue, “oh yeah. Gonna be practically orgasmic. Lying in bed all day.” Dave chuckles and the others snort, “yeah. I prefer getting some extra z’s in than sex nowadays.” Dave nods, “same here man.” He squeezes your ass as the bell rings for the ground floor. “See you all tomorrow.” The guys say as they filter out of the elevator and Dave smacks your ass before he steps away from you, not looking back as he heads to his car to go home to his wife and kids.

Walking to your own car, you unlock it and climb behind the wheel, taking your time to get comfortable. You don’t have to rush home, needing to stop by the grocery store for the low fat creamer you like and find something to eat. Scrambled eggs and cottage cheese maybe. Who knows, but you damn sure won’t be eating meatloaf.

Dave is watching television with the girls before they have their baths and he is tapping his fingers on his chair. You still haven’t sent him the photo he asked for. He picks up his phone after Carol disappears into the kitchen to clean up, and he texts you ‘where’s my pussy?’

You’re reading a book when the text comes in and you curse. Completely forgetting all about Dave’s picture. You almost text him back and tell him to ask his wife for one but you peel off your panties and spread your thighs to take a picture for your boss. You hit send and sigh softly, picking up your book again.

Dave’s phone beeps and he unlocks it, smirking at the sight of your creamy cunt. He loves that you still have it inside of you. He doesn’t respond back, Carol asks him to help with the girls so he sets his phone aside and gets him into bed. “They’re asleep.” He announces as he unbuttons his shirt. Carol smirks at him and shrugs off her robe, showing Dave the lacy nightie she’s wearing underneath. He wants to roll his eyes at the way she thinks she is so sexy but he can’t help but think you’d look sexier. With a sigh, he strips off and does his husbandly duty but he cums thinking of you and your creamy cunt, not of the woman beneath him.

Your bed is large, empty. Dave had insisted on a king bed when he bought it for you. Not that you had asked him for one. When you had moved in, you had the full sized bed that would fit in your tiny apartment. Dave had come over to christen the house and complained about what a piece of shit the bed was. The next weekend, another was being delivered. It’s comfortable, and it makes you think of Dave every time you crawl between the sheets. Wondering if he had the same bed at his house. With a sigh, you turn off the light and settle down. You have already set out the red outfit Dave wanted you to wear tomorrow.

****

Dave smirks when he sees you wearing the red dress the next morning when he comes into work but he doesn’t call you into his office. He wants you to squirm in your seat, preparing for the weekend. He likes to keep you on his toes. He calls your name and you enter his office, eyebrows raised in anticipation, “coffee?” He asks, lifting up his empty cup.

“Right away.” You know that he could get his own coffee, that was probably the second cup he’s already had, but you take the mug from his hand. It’s one you had gotten him as a little silly Boss Appreciation Day gift. It says ‘World’s Okayest Boss’. You had enjoyed the spanking he gave you that afternoon. Really enjoyed it.

Dave watches you leave the room and smirks to himself, knowing he’s going to have fun stripping that dress off of your body. When you come back with his coffee, he thanks you without looking up from his computer. He likes to blow hot and cold, keeping you on your toes.

You roll your eyes as you walk back to your desk and sit down. Amused with yourself for expecting him to act differently. He does this all the time, it’s like a little game and you allow him to pull you like a puppeteer pulling the strings. You shake off the interaction and pick up your own coffee to blow on while you start on your own work.

Dave ignores you for the rest of the day, getting his own lunch from the fridge that he brought from home, and he watches you as you answer the phone and sort through his mail. He can't wait to pull you apart this weekend, spend his time on your body until you're begging him to let you cum. When the end of day comes around, Dave groans as he stretches and grabs his briefcase, "I gotta head home and say goodbye to the girls. Be ready for eight." He orders, striding off to the elevator without looking back at you.

You huff slightly, slowly shutting down your own computer and gathering your things. Annoyed at how he’s ignored you and now expects you to jump to his whims. Still, you make your way home and climb into a bath, starting to get ready for him.

Dave waves goodbye to Carol and the kids as they back onto the road and he blows them a kiss as Carol pulls away from the house. He stands there for a few minutes before he heads back into the house to lock it up. It doesn't take long for him to grab his weekend bag and get into his car, making his way to your place for the weekend, a wicked smirk on his face when he pulls up outside of the home he bought you.

You had really debated if you should put the red dress back on after he had ignored you all day. Part of you wanted to change into sweats to spite him, to be comfortable. Still, you are fixing dinner for yourself, wearing the red dress. Unable to not disappoint him, despite yourself.

Dave lets himself into the home using the keypad, setting his bag down and he makes his way into the kitchen to find you cooking and the radio playing. "You being good to yourself?" He asks, wanting to make sure you aren't just having lettuce leaves like you tend to do.

“Hey.” You turn and give him a smile before looking back at the pan on the stove. “You didn’t say if you were eating with the girls, so I did some steaks.” They are resting in the oven while you finish sautéeing the green beans. “Steak and green beans sound good?” You ask. “You said to be prepared for a long night.”

Dave comes over to grab your hips, pressing himself against you. “You’re gonna need all the energy you can get.” He smirks against your neck as he leans in to kiss along your skin. “You’re such a good girl.” He coos, squeezing your ass.

Your mild annoyance at Dave fades when he starts to press against you. Tilting your head as you sautée the green beans so he can have more access to your skin. “Have you eaten?” You manage breathlessly, hoping that he will share a meal with you.

“No. Definitely haven’t had my dessert.” His hand slides around your stomach and up to your breast to squeeze. “You gonna feed me, baby girl? Make sure I got enough energy to fuck you into that mattress I bought you? Make sure you can barely fucking walk on Monday when you come into the office?”

“Yes.” It’s pathetic how you whimper, but his words make your cunt clench. The possessiveness in his tone lets you pretend you are actually his. That this isn’t some kind of game to him. A thrill he gets to have when his wife isn’t around. “I want that.”

Dave chuckles at the pathetic way you whimper and his hand squeezes your breast. “Finish making dinner like a good girl and then I expect you kneeling on your bed in that lacy number I bought you last week.” He murmurs against your cheek.

You hate that lingerie. It shows off how big you are. Your rolls on display and all your cellulite exposed. You had cried when you tried it on and had told Dave that you had been too tired to even open the bag. It feels like it was meant to humiliate you and you don’t want to put it on but you can’t deny him. “Okay.”

Dave grins, “good girl. Now, let’s eat. You’ll need your energy. I am planning to keep you in that bed all fucking weekend. Carol was boring as shit, laying there like a goddamn fish on ice. Need you to show me how good it can be.” He coos, stepping away from you so you can finish cooking.

You should hate how he talks about his wife, how he plays it off like you’re better. But you actually love it. Making you feel like you are giving Dave what he needs, even if you know you’re not. He’s just telling you what you want to hear, to make you feel justified in letting this man completely ruin you for anyone else. You’re completely in love with him and you can’t ever have him. You push that thought away and plate up the steaks and green beans. Bringing it over to the table with the wine already opened, like this is some kind of at home date for the two of you.

Dave groans when he sees the steak, cooked to a perfect medium rare, and he lifts his glass up to you when you are sitting down. “To a perfect weekend.” He toasts and winks when you clink your glass against his. He knows it’s wrong to keep you like this. To make you feel like it’s a relationship but this is his escape. You know him, the dark parts of him that Carol never sees, you don’t judge him for it.

Dinner is eaten quickly, both of you hungry and you preen when Dave groans over the meal you had prepared. Soon enough, you are quickly loading the dishes in the dishwasher and rushing to the bedroom to put on the dreaded lingerie that Dave is so eager to see you in. Even if you don’t like it, the fact that he wants to see you in it makes you strip out of the red dress and put it on, kneeling on the bed just like he had ordered after you had lit some candles and turned the lights down.

Dave takes his time washing up in the guest bathroom. He removes his shoes and socks, unbuttoning his shirt a little and splashing his face with water. He makes his way down the hall and opens your bedroom door, groaning at the sight that greets him. "Fuck. You look - baby girl, this is - Jesus. I fucking love it." He growls, striding over to the bed and he reaches out to grab your stomach, loving how every inch of you is on display.

You don’t wince, but you want to. Hating that he automatically went for the part of you that is least attractive. He seems to not care about the flabbiness, or he acts like he doesn’t care. Maybe he thinks that if he pretends to love your body, you will do whatever he wants. Stupidly correct since you will do what he wants anyway. You lick your lips and wonder what he has planned for you tonight.

He loves your body. A perfect example of softness and femininity in his eyes. You are plush and take everything he gives you. He groans your name and slides his hand up to squeeze your tit through the lace. "Looks so pretty for me."

Dave’s hands are large and they perfectly cup your tits. You enjoy the roughness that is tempered sometimes, but you love when he comes back from missions. Especially if they haven’t gone to plan. He’s feral, harsh, demanding on those nights. Often coming to you to fuck away the stress before he even goes home to his family. Almost always, you have to take off the next day because you are so sore, although it’s Dave sending you home instead of you calling in. “Just for you.” You promise, looking up at him.

He loves that look in your eyes, the one that tells him you’ll give him everything if he requests it. He groans and leans in to kiss along your neck, his hands reaching down to unclasp your bra, wanting to see your tits on display and out of the lace he bought you.

Even if you believe it’s an act on his part, he makes you feel beautiful. His hands worship you in their rough, eager way. You moan when he cups your breasts, pinching the nipples after he drags the straps of the bra down your arms and tosses it aside. The lace panties are barely there, hidden under the rolls of flesh and getting soaked by your arousal. “Dave.” You plea, wanting more, wanting him. Anything he will give you. 

He chuckles, letting go of your breast to grip your chin, “patience. You’re not in charge. Who’s in charge?” He asks with a click of his tongue. “You are, sir.” You say and he hums, “that’s right. I’m in charge.” He leans in to bite your chin before he ducks his head and bites down hard on your nipple. His hands are squeezing your ass to drag you closer to his body.

You whine softly, closing your eyes as the pain and pleasure mingle and you give up any kind of resistance to him. You want him to take what he wants, do what he wants with you. You will let him do anything he wants to you, and he loves that. Your body trembles as his tongue soothes the bite and then he moves over to your other breast, biting just as hard. Another whimpered moan escapes your lips and you pant quietly. 

His hand slides down over your stomach, squeezing the flesh before he snakes his fingers into your panties, the lace giving way to his touch, and he quickly finds your clit to rub slow circles on it.

“Baby…” You moan, cunt clenching around nothing and you love how he just knows exactly how to touch you. He might slap your pussy or spit in your mouth, but the way he touches your clit shows you that he knows what he’s doing with your body. It’s not the careless, fumbling swipes of his fingers like past lovers. He’s methodical and it always tears you to pieces. 

“That’s it. Want you to cum just like this. Get that pussy nice and wet for me. Wanna make you feel good tonight. Tomorrow, I won’t be so kind. Want you to feel good tonight, baby girl.” He murmurs, rubbing your clit a little faster.

Multiple days are rare so you will take everything you can get. It will help when the weekends are lonely and you are bombarded with social media posts with the happy York family in your notifications. “Dave.” You moan, sliding your hands up to cup your tits. “So good. It feels so good\ baby.” 

He leans back to watch you squeeze your tits. “I want to watch you touch yourself.” He reaches for the lace of your panties and rips them like they are paper. “Want you to lay down and show me how you touch my cunt when I’m not here.” He demands, reaching up to begin unbuttoning his shirt.

You moan, shifting to lay down and you spread your legs. Most of the time you use a wand, so you open the bedside drawer but Dave tuts. “Use your fingers.” He orders, making you close the drawer and you slide your fingers down to part your puffy folds and press your index finger to your clit.

He groans as he watches you touch yourself. It’s a sight he never gets tired of. He shrugs off his shirt and lets it drop to the floor, his cock pressing against his zipper and he slowly pulls his belt out of the loops after he unbuckles it.

You bite your lip, wondering if he will spank you with his belt tomorrow. He's only done that once before and you were gingerly sitting down for days, even with the cooling cream he had spread over your generous cheeks. “Not as good as you.” You whine, rubbing your clit faster. “Nothing is as good as you.”

“That’s damn right. Only I can make you squeal.” He smirks and unbuttons his pants but he doesn’t pull his cock out. He watches you with dark eyes, “you’re so sexy.” He murmurs, leaning in closer to watch you touch yourself.

You don’t believe that, but your body responds to the praise. Arching up and spreading your legs wider as your fingers work over your swollen nub of pleasure. “Baby, baby touch me.” You beg quietly.

He tuts, shaking his head. “No. I want you to keep going.” He orders and you whine in protest but he reaches out to smack your thigh, loving the way it jiggles. He doesn’t want you to cum yet. He wants you to work yourself up. “So fucking gorgeous.” He murmurs, knowing he needs to tell you that more. You deserve the praise. 

Your eyes slip closed and you start to slowly rock your hips down. Pushing against your fingers and you wish it was Dave. Needing his touch because you can smell him. Dave has a unique scent that you are obsessed with.

He shifts down onto his stomach, his face hovering near your pussy, and he inhales your heady scent as you rub your clit. “Look at me.” He demands, gripping your thighs to push them further apart.

Your eyes instantly pop open, looking down at him between your thighs to see him so close to your cunt. You moan, clenching around nothing again and you wonder if this will be the rare treat of him eating you out.

Dave loves the way you rub your clit and he wants you to feel good. He needs to show you some intimacy every once in a while because it keeps you happy. He can’t be mean to you all the time. He shuffles closer, his dark eyes on you as he bats your hand away and leans in to slide his tongue through your folds, flicking over your clit.

“Dave!” You squeal in surprise, cutting yourself off with a long moan when he drags his tongue through your folds again. “Oh fuck.” You gasp out, ready to do whatever he wants as long as he keeps using his tongue on you. “Fuck.”

He smirks against your folds, loving the way you moan and he laps at you again, determined to make you cum like this. To show you how good he can be. He laps at your clit and his fingers dig into your fleshy thighs, loving the feel of you.

“Fuck Dave.” You whimper his name again, lost in the sensations of his mouth on your cunt. You’ve pleasured him countless times and while he’s always made you cum- except for times he was denying you- you rarely get this kind of treatment. Making you shiver in anticipation of what is to come.

Dave laps at your clit before he slides his tongue down, pushing it into your weeping cunt with a groan. Fuck, you taste so sweet. Always tastes so sweet. He slides his hand up your thigh so he can press his thumb to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bundle of nerves while his tongue curls deep inside of you.

Your fingers tangle into the sheets with a low moan, force of habit keeping you quieter than you know he would probably like. You’re home, you can be as loud as you want. Whimpering as he tongue fucks you, your walls soaking his face as you grind against him.

He can’t see your face like this but he wants to hear you. He pulls back for a second, “want to hear you. Moan for me, baby.” He demands before he dives back in to push his tongue deep inside of you.

It’s like you needed his permission, moans spilling out of you in increasing volume. Letting yourself go and making sure he knows how much you love his tongue buried in your cunt. “Fuck! Fuck baby, you’re so good. So fucking good to me.”

He loves to hear how much you love it. He wants you to be addicted to him, to need him. He loves hearing you moan his name, he wants you to want him. His tongue curls deeper, his cheeks pressed against your thighs as he tries to taste more of you, his thumb rubbing your clit a little faster.

“Oh god.” You whimper, eyes squeezing shut as you pull at the bedsheets. “It’s so- it’s too much.” You gasp, so close to the edge. A few more swipes of his thumb and you are crying out, clenching around his tongue as you soak his face.

He hisses as you clamp down on his tongue, loving the way you cry out so beautifully. Carol never reacts like that. She’s so cold and emotionless. Probably why he married her. Less complicated. Yet now he yearns for your noises, your thrashing from pleasure. He fucking loves it.

He works you through it. Continuing to lavish your cunt with attention until you are wrung dry. Almost overstimulated and your thighs try to close around his head, but you don’t dare. The last time you tried to deny him, he had tied you to the bed.

Dave smirks against your thighs as you finish trembling around him. Fuck, he loves the way you take whatever he gives you. You’re gorgeous and he wants you to believe it, even if he controls your life. He wants you to know that you are desirable. He pulls back from your pussy, chuckling at the way you whine slightly and he slaps at your sensitive folds, “hands and knees.” He demands, pulling his cock out of his pants and he doesn’t take them off yet.

You pant as you roll over, pushing to your knees as you face away from him. Eager to have him inside you after such a blissful orgasm. Only Dave has ever fucked you as hard as you need and made you feel like it wasn’t just a pity fuck, or some need to get his rocks off. Your ass wiggles slightly as you get comfortable and you moan when he slaps it.

He shifts to kneel on the bed, his hands squeezing your ass and he works fast to position his cock at your entrance, pushing into you in one quick thrust. He grabs his belt when he’s fully inside of you, wrapping it around your throat.

Your sharp inhale says it all. You’re surprised by the force around your throat. Eyes bulging in your head and it takes you a split second before you stop yourself from reaching for it. Knowing that you are safe with him because if he wants to kill you, there are easier ways. Instead, you moan, clenching around him.

He loves the way you moan. He grips the leather, using it to keep you still as he thrusts into you. His pace is unrelenting as he fucks you hard. His jaw clenched as he grips the belt, tightening around your throat.

You can’t take full breaths, every last drop of air is being fucked out of you when he slams his cock back inside you. Panting as he rides you, fucks you with no mercy and any sounds you make come out as tiny squeals. Holding on as your eyes roll back in your head while he drills into you.

He is practically straddling your ass and thighs as he rams into you. Sweat beading on his forehead and jaw clenched as he thrusts into you. He groans your name and tightens the belt, loving the squeak that escapes your lips.

It’s almost more than you can take but you press against the belt slightly. Wanting to drop your head but you can’t. Clenching around him when it cuts off your air more. “D-Da-ave!” You gasp.

He loves the way you gasp for air, it makes his cock twitch inside of you. He can feel how close you are to cumming and he doesn’t want that. Not yet. He groans and pulls out of you, loosening the belt.

Gasping, you collapse onto your elbow and suck in air greedily. Not even able to speak for a moment as you try to catch your breath and calm down.

He chuckles at the way you slump. “On your back, hands gripping the headboard.” He demands, “gonna make sure you cum but you won’t be getting off easy.” He smirks and you struggle to shift onto your back. “Hands.” He tuts, reminding you.

You push to your hands and flip onto your back, not caring for once that everything moves. You know it’s an unflattering picture, but you don’t care right now, still panting as you reach up and grab the headboard of the bed.

Dave immediately straddles your figure, leaning down to wrap the belt around your wrists, securing you to the headboard. “Such a needy little whore. You’ll let me do anything, won’t you?” He smirks. Lightly slapping your cheek, he chuckles at the way you shine, his hard cock pressing against your belly.

“Yes, yes sir.” You pant out, positively dripping from how sexy you find all this. It’s like every dark romance novel you’ve ever read and it’s even better. “Anything you want. It’s yours. I’m yours.”

He loves hearing you say that. “Such a good fucking girl.” He groans, leaning in to bite down on your nipple as he shuffles down your body. “You’re so sexy. And all mine. It’s all mine.” He growls against your breast, his cock twitching, and he slaps your other breast while he bites down and sucks on your skin.

You whimper and moan, body jerking at the harsh slap, but you love it. Your hands are tied, you are immobile and still you wouldn’t move if you were free. You want his attention, you need it. “Fuck Dave.” You whine. “More.”

Dave shakes his head, shifting further down your body. "You don't get to make demands. Who fucking owns you? Who owns this pussy?" He growls, reaching down to cup your cunt. "Who owns this goddamn house and your entire wardrobe?"

It’s true. Dave has bought most of your work wardrobe, all of your lingerie and underwear. The only thing that he didn’t buy was the comfy clothes you wear when he’s not around you. You don’t know how he manages it without Carol knowing, but you’re sure it’s funded from his offshore account. “You do. You own me.” It would be horrifying if you didn’t want to be owned by him. “I’m yours.”

He loves hearing you say that. His chest puffing and his cock twitching at the way you openly declare that he owns you. “That’s right, baby. You’re mine. My slut.” He growls, slapping your thighs. “Beg me to fuck you.” He demands, slapping your thighs again.

You moan, eyes rolling back at the sharp sting of his hand. “Fuck me please.” You beg breathlessly. “I need your cock inside me. Only you can make me cum like I need.” You praise him, knowing how much he loves the way you are needy for him. “Please fuck me. Please baby.”

He reaches out to grip your chin, “what do you call me?” He growls and you whimper, “sir. Please fuck me sir.” He smirks, “that’s better.” He smacks your cheek and shifts to grip his cock, positioning himself at your entrance and he pushes into you with a hiss at how wet you are.

You cry out, cunt clenching down around him and the sting on your cheek just adds to the sensation. Your hands tug at his belt, wishing you could touch him. “Fuck! Yes, of fuck yes, sir. Fuck me, please sir. I’m yours.”

He loves the way you writhe beneath him, “that’s it, baby. Take me so well. Take every fucking inch.” He pushes impossibly deeper inside of you. “You are gonna take every goddamn inch until I fill you up and then you’re going to keep my cum inside of you because I fucking own this pussy.”

“Yessss.” You moan quietly, squeezing around him again. You love when he’s possessive and makes you keep his cum inside you. You feel like he has a breeding kink that he doesn’t really talk about. You’ve never asked, it’s none of your business and even if he did, he would never want you to have his child.

Dave grunts as he starts to move, his hands squeezing your flesh, sliding his hands up your body to grab your tits. He squeezes the flesh and pinches your nipples, loving the way you moan his name. That breathless sigh and way your eyes roll back has him twitching inside of you.

Dave rocks into you, making your entire body move with each harsh thrust. Making you moan and whine for more as he does what he wants and makes your thighs shake. He fills you up, his cock seemingly the perfect fit for your cunt, or perhaps it was that your cunt has adapted to his cock. Either way, the way he punches against your walls makes you squeal.

He rams into you, his jaw clenched as he fucks you harder. His hands are squeezing your flesh and he wants you to cum for him. He doesn’t want to deny you, he wants you to squeeze him, soak him. He loves hearing you cum. The way you moan his name.

It’s always intense. Building you up quickly from the snap of his hips and his cock shredding up into you. Everything comes together in perfect harmony. You don’t even warn him you’re about to cum. Your back bows and your second orgasm of the night has you screaming his name, his cock hitting perfectly as you soak him as you squirt.

“Jesus Christ. Look at that.” Dave groans, pulling out of you fast so he can watch your juices splash over the sheets. “Such a dirty little whore. Squirting all over my cock. And look at you, you want more, don’t you?” He chuckles, reaching down to wrap his fingers around his soaked cock, jerking himself.

“Yes, fuck yes.” You pant, knowing you would be so embarrassed if he didn’t find it so sexy. “Need more, sir. Need you, so fucking much.” You tug against the restraining belt again, wishing you could touch him. Stroke his cock for him or suck him off. Anything to give him pleasure.

Your moan is needy and he chuckles, continuing to jerk himself off. “So fucking needy for my cock. Maybe I should just jerk off and cum over your tits. Or I’ll cum over your pussy? Won’t let you feel it inside of you. Or your mouth. What do you want?” He coos sadistically, wanting to torture you.

You whimper, knowing that whatever you say, he will do the opposite. He likes to toy with you, twist you around and loves when you beg him. “Whatever you want. I just want you to feel good.” You moan. “Use me. Use me however you want.”

Dave loves it when you beg him to take what he wants. He continues to pump himself before he lets go, pushing back inside of you in one thrust and he grabs your thighs, pushing them back towards your body. He groans at how tight you are like this.

You grunt, your ability to breathe is nearly cut in half when he pushes your legs back. Moaning quietly as he starts to thrust into you again. All you can do is take him. Your cunt quivering every time he fills you up again and trying to hold him there as he pulls out. “Fuck.” You pant.

He’s feral. Taking out every bit of stress he experienced from work and home out on your pussy. He grunts through clenched teeth as he pushes deep into you. “Take it. Take it like the fucking whore you are. Say it. Say you’re my slut.” He growls, fingers digging into your thighs.

You can barely make a sound when his hips slap against the back of your thighs but you try. “Y-y-yooouuuur sl-slut.” You stutter out, curling your hands around the belt tighter as he hammers into you like a jackhammer.

He hisses, his cock twitching inside of you, and he’s close. So fucking close. “Want you to cum again for me.” He demands, fucking into you hard and fast. He wants you to squirt on him again before he feels you up.

You whine, knowing that if he wants it, he will get it. Dave is tenacious like that. Your toes curl as he ramps up his pace and you are just amazed he hasn’t stopped for a break yet. “D-D-Dave!”

He grips your flesh even harder, harsh breaths escaping his lips as he pushes into you over and over again. “Cum for me. Cum.” He demands, “fucking - do it. Now.” He growls, his back starting to ache but he won’t give in.

Daves orders are like the switch your body needs. Shaking, you cry out breathlessly again. Unable to even say anything, just crying out as you shatter again. Feeling the liquid rush and nearly passing out from the pleasure.

Dave fucking loves the way you soak him and the sheets beneath you. He hisses and pushes deep a half dozen more times, his thrusts squelching as he presses the head of his cock against your cervix and lets go. He groans and his cock pulses as he fills you with hot cum, his head dropping to rest his chin on his chest.

He fills you, your eyes slipping closed and you know that it’s perfect. You’re exhausted from the way he fucked you and you know that if he wanted more you would give it to him. You can’t even catch your breath, but you don’t know if you want to. Opening your eyes again to watch him as he rocks his hips slowly while filling you up.

He pants, closing his eyes as he fills you, and he squeezes your thighs until he relaxes, releasing your flesh from his grip. "Fuck." He huffs happily, knowing that only you can make him feel like this.

****

Since that night, Dave has been out of town for several trips and having to focus on a few different cases that have included long hours and work outside the office. That’s a good thing, because if he had been in, he would have noticed something before you did. You stare at the paper, chewing your bottom lip as fresh tears gather and you wonder how the hell you managed to find yourself in this situation, although that should be rather obvious. You’ve been so upset that the last two days you’ve taken off from work. Next week Dave will be out of town, you can have your procedure and he will never even know there’s been a pregnancy.

Dave can tell there's something wrong. You don't respond to his texts as fast as you normally do. You aren't as starry eyed when you look at him when he walks past your desk before he heads out on an op. He is concerned - not that he'd ever admit that. He decides to head home early. The case is wrapped up and Carol thinks he is out of town for two more days. You won't be expecting him but you'll let him inside. He pulls up down from your house, not on the drive, and makes his way to your door, opening it with the key he had made and he steps inside, wondering what's been going on with you.

Coming out of the bathroom, it’s been a bad day. Between crying and getting sick, you feel horrible. Brushing your teeth after you lost the soup you had eaten, you groan quietly as you move to the kitchen to get a glass of water. The appointment is tomorrow and you are nervous and heartbroken at the same time. It’s confusing and your anxiety is just making you more sick. “Fuck.” You huff to yourself, hearing your phone ding in the living room. It’s probably Dave and you don’t want to talk to him right now.

Dave watches you, a frown on his face at the way you scramble for the phone. It’s not him calling you. He hovers in the hallway and sees a piece of paper on the side. Curious, he picks it up. His nostrils flare when he reads the word ‘pregnant’ and he hisses under his breath, shaking his head. He sets it down on the side and strides into the living room where you are on the phone.

“Yes, thank you.” You bite your lip, emotions crowding your voice and you try not to cry. “Two o’clock. And should I expect any cramping after? Or just the bleeding?” You listen and when Dave steps into the living room, you jump and gasp. “Yes? No, uh, sorry, my- my cat scared me. Okay. Okay, thank you.” You quickly end the call and get up from the couch nervously. “Dave. Um, I didn’t expect you.” You bite your lip, knowing you look like shit. “What are you doing here?”

He stares at you, eyes narrowed as he takes in the gaunt look on your face, the ragged sweats, your greasy hair. You look sick. He crosses his arms as he looms over you, "were you ever going to tell me?" He demands to know.

You shiver at the dark look in his eyes. He knows. You could lie, deny it, but it would be an insult. He’s a fucking DIA agent and an assassin on top of that. He’s not stupid. Your shoulders round and curl in on your frame. “No.” You admit quietly. “Never.”

“And you were gonna get rid of it?” He asks, his tone flat, face indifferent so you can’t see the emotions rolling inside of him. He can’t believe it. You’re pregnant and you weren’t going to tell him.

You choke out a huff and gesture helplessly. “What else am I supposed to do?” You ask rhetorically. “I can’t have this pregnancy.” You’ve tried very hard not to think of it as a baby. Under different circumstances you would have been thrilled to be pregnant, but this isn’t the case. “Don’t worry, it’ll be done tomorrow and you will never have to think about it again.”

Dave growls, “you were gonna kill my baby and not even fucking tell me?” He strides over to you, grabbing your throat to push you against the sofa, his fingers wrapped around your neck. “I have a fucking right to say what I want.”

For the first time, you are truly scared of Dave. Choking out a cry and grabbing his hand, hoping he doesn’t try to hurt you. “I- no.” You shake your head. “It’s my- you’re married!” You don’t understand why he would be mad, he should be relieved. “I’m just the woman you fuck!”

“You’re not getting rid of it. You’re keeping the baby.” He commands, his fingers still wrapped around your throat and you whimper, “but you’re married. I can’t - we can’t -” He tuts, “I’ll look after you. I promise. I can’t be with you but I’ll make sure you and the baby are looked after.” He promises and you sob, “I can’t do that.” 

Dave scoffs, “you’re going to do it otherwise I’ll kill you.” Your eyes widen at his threat, “I’d rather you kill me. It’s better than being in love with you and not being able to have you.” You spit at him, and he chuckles darkly, “you're a silly little girl if you don't think that I fucking worship the ground you walk on. I'd move in tonight if I could, but l have my girls and I can't abandon them. Can't leave them with their useless cunt of a mother. You're fucking blind if you can't see that I love you too. That you have me.”

You’re so conflicted, tears streaming down your cheeks. “I don’t understand, I thought- I thought you would be mad I was pregnant.” You confess, sobbing harder. “You- you want me to have the baby?” You ask, sure that he would have wanted the complete opposite. “You love me?”

Dave scoffs, letting go of your throat to caress your cheek, "do you really think I don't love you? You silly girl." He shakes his head, "of course I do. When have I ever said something I don't mean?"

You almost flinch but end up leaning into his touch. Sighing softly because it’s true, Dave never says something he doesn’t mean. At least not to you. There’s never been a need to lie when you know all his dirty secrets. “You don’t.” You admit quietly.

“Exactly.” He caresses your cheek again, his dark eyes burning into you. “I won’t lie to you.” He promises, sliding his hand down and he shifts to kneel beside the sofa. His eyes watching you as he shifts to hook his fingers in your leggings, watching you as he pulls them down. “Wanna taste you.” He murmurs, pulling the restrictive material off of you and flinging it across the room before he yanks your panties off. It doesn’t take long for him to dive in, sliding his tongue through your folds.

“Dave!” You cry out, unable to believe that he is eating you out again. You had expected him to lecture you, to yell at you. You whimper, so sensitive since you hadn’t been able to have sex the past few weeks. You hadn’t even masturbated because you had been so sick.

Dave laps at you, sucking your clit into his mouth and his hands push your thighs further apart. You taste different but he likes it. You are sweeter. He growls into your flesh, his hands sliding to your ass, lifting your hips so he can push his tongue inside of you.

“Dave, baby.” You whimper, closing your eyes and your fingers slide down to curl into his hair. You wouldn’t normally do that, but you also had never expected to find out Dave loves you. It shifts the dynamic slightly. “Baby- I love you so much.”

Dave groans into your flesh, not pulling back to say he loves you too. He’s already confessed his feelings and he’s not one to give gushing soliloquies of love. He knows you know how he feels. His tongue pushes deeper and his nose presses against your clit. His hand slides up to your belly, resting there to feel where his child is, to feel your beauty.

His hand on your stomach brings tears to your eyes, finding it soft and sweet. His tongue pushes inside you as he caresses your stomach. It’s sweet and dirty, your nerves sensitive and he doesn’t stop until you are gasping out, close to cumming.

He wants you to cum for him, his tongue sliding up to your clit, lapping at it and your moan makes his cock throb in his pants. You are fucking perfect. Untarnished despite his filthy touch on your flesh, you are an angel. He is the devil that crawled from hell to touch you. He shouldn't be allowed to be near you, his touch ruins everything yet you remain so innocent. He laps at your clit, his free hand shifting until he is pushing two fingers inside of you.

“Oh fuck, Dave.” You whimper his name, his thick fingers giving you the fullness you crave. You want his cock inside you, but you don’t know if you could handle the harsh pace he fucks you at right now. “So good. You’re so good, baby. Fuck, I love those fingers inside me.”

He pumps his fingers, groaning at the way you clench around them. Your pussy is wet, soaking his digits, and he hisses at the way you moan his name again. You’re so good to him. He sucks your clit back into his mouth, wanting you to cum for him.

It doesn’t take long to work you up. Your body has been neglected, from his work schedule and your lack of interest, although when he touches you it sets you on fire. “Dave!” You cry out, lurching up and catching sight of him right before the stars burst behind your eyes and you shake apart on the couch for him.

Dave groans when you clamp down on his fingers, making him moan your name around your clit as you writhe under his touch. He doesn’t do this often but he felt like he needed to do it because you’re carrying his child.

The last time Dave ate you out, it was actually the night that you made your child. You had tracked it back to that weekend that Dave had spent the entire weekend in bed with you. It was a good time. “Dave, baby.” You whimper, starting to feel like it’s too much, but you don’t push his head away.

Dave withdraws his fingers when you start to whine and he shifts to hover over your body. His lips glistening as he watches you with dark eyes. He doesn’t press his body down on yours but he leans in to softly kiss you. He doesn’t kiss you unless it’s to bite you but right now, he wants to be soft.

The kiss takes you by surprise but you lean into it. Wondering why he is being so soft with you right now. Is it because of the pregnancy? Your fingers are still in his hair and they unfurl to slide down to his shoulders. “Do you want to fuck me?” You ask when he pulls back.

Dave shakes his head, “no. Not tonight. You need to sleep. Have you eaten?” Dave asks and you bite your lip, knowing you’ve struggled to keep anything down. “I’ll make you an omelet. Carol could barely keep anything down except eggs when she was pregnant with Alice.” He shifts off of you, grabbing your panties for you to put back on, and he reaches down to adjust his hard cock after he stands.

You stare at him for a moment, shocked that he is denying himself. He's never denied himself unless there was a meeting he needed to be in. And that was only if he was needed in person and couldn’t video call. You slide your panties on when he disappears into the kitchen.

**** 

Carol hums as she watches the floors pass by on the screen. The Tupperware in her hands as she rides to her husband’s office. She hasn’t seen a lot of him lately. He’s been working late nearly every night and she wants to catch up with her husband. She’s missed him. The elevator dings and she steps out, making her way down the hall to Dave’s office. She steps into your desk area, knocking on the door, and your eyes widen when you see her. “Mrs - Mrs York, how are you? Was Dave - was Mr. York expecting you?” You fumble to look at your computer and Carol’a eyes trail down your body to the bump you’re sporting. 

“Are you - are you pregnant or did you get fatter?” She asks bluntly, her lack of concern for your feelings is obvious at the indifferent look on your face.

“I-“ you can’t believe that she just asked that, feeling your cheeks heat up and you hate that you can’t call her a bitch, but that would just cause issues for Dave. “I’m nearly seven months along. Twenty-seven weeks, thanks.” You offer her a tight smile and your hand slides along the bump that houses Dave’s child. 

Dave walks out of his office, hearing you talk to someone and he’s become slightly protective as you have gotten further along in your pregnancy, coming home with you every night before going to his home. He says he wants to make sure you are safe, but he often cooks to make sure you eat since you are still getting sick. “Carol? What are you doing here?” He asks with a frown.

"I brought you lunch since we haven't been spending that much time together." She holds up the tupperware in her hands. Dave stifles the deep sigh that nearly escapes his lips. "Yeah, uh, it's been busy here, hasn't it?" He asks you and you nod in confirmation. 

Carol hums, looking back at you, "seven months? Wow. I didn't even know you had a boyfriend. Dave always says you're painfully single." She smirks slightly, "congratulations to you and your...do you have a boyfriend?" She asks, wondering if he left you when you said you were pregnant. She's never liked you. You're too pretty and even if she was mollified because you're fat, she doesn't like the idea of you being outside Dave's office day in and day out.

It takes extreme discipline not to look over at Dave, but you just shrug slightly. “No.” You tell her without expanding on the question at all. Let her stew. It’s not like she doesn’t have reason to hate you, you are sleeping with her husband and pregnant by him, but she doesn’t know that. She’s just always been a bitch to you. She doesn’t have mythical intuition or some gut feeling. She made snide comments before the relationship between you and Dave went anywhere beyond professional. “Well, I will take my lunch now, since yours is sorted for you.”

Dave nods, watching you go, and he can't say anything to tell you he's sorry for the behavior of his bitch of a wife. He sighs as you stand up and his eyes drop down to your belly, full and round with his child. He swallows harshly and steps back to open his office door, "come on then, darling." He tries to keep the bite out of the nickname.

Carol looks back at you and gives a small smile. “Hopefully you are eating healthy, and not for three.” She lifts a brow. “You don’t need to put on too much more weight.” You don’t say anything, just turning and opening the bottom drawer to pull out your purse.

Dave wants to step between you and his wife but he can't. He tuts as Carol steps into his office and he shuts the door behind her a little too forcefully. "Why the fuck would you speak to her like that?" He growls, "she hasn't done anything to you." 

Carol scoffs as she sets the Tupperware down. "Just taking up too much room. Poor baby. Gonna come out with diabetes." Carol scoffs and Dave snorts, "you had gestational diabetes with Molly." He reminds her but she sits down opposite his desk and shrugs, "well, I lost the weight." 

Dave rolls his eyes before he sits down, "be nice to her. She works hard."

“I don’t want to talk about her.” Carol waves towards the office door, satisfied that she can hear the elevator ding as it opens and you leave. “I’ve missed you, lately.” She pouts. “The girls have missed you.” She knows that whatever might be going on, and she knows something is going on, Dave loves the girls.

“I’ve been busy with work. Paperwork…reports…meetings.” He lists off and watches Carol open the Tupperware. Her cooking is decent, not as good as yours. “I miss the girls.” He says, tapping his fingers on the desk. “I miss you, baby.” She coos, fluttering her eyelashes and Dave bites his lip, wondering how to handle this. He hasn’t slept with Carol since he found out you are pregnant. “I have a meeting soon.” He declares, “can’t be too long for lunch.”

“You’ve been working too hard.” She huffs. “We need to take a weekend away. Maybe go up to the cabin?” She smiles and winks at him. “The girls always sleep like the dead up there so you and I can have some alone time after they go to bed.”

He knows he can’t say no. She’d get suspicious. So he nods, “sure. We can do that.” Carol frowns at his lack of enthusiasm. “Let’s eat.” He says, gesturing to the food she brought, “I don’t have a lot of time.” He reminds her and she huffs, handing him the lunch she brought him.

The food is good, but Dave is wondering where you went to eat. What you are eating. He’s been making sure you’ve been eating well, for the baby and for your easily upset stomach. Carol talks to him about the girls, something that he enjoys and he can’t help but wonder what they would think about having a sibling. Holding the baby when they come. You hadn’t wanted to find out the sex of the baby, wanting it to be a surprise.

Dave kisses Carol goodbye just as you walk into the office, your eyes averting the couple, and Dave smiles at Carol. “See you at home.” He says and she smirks, “don’t be late.” The lunch you just ate swirls in your stomach and you rush to sit down just as Carol leaves. “You doing okay?” Dave asks after she’s gone, “what did you have to eat?”

“I’m fine.” You brush away his concern, upset from Carol’s visit and you know that you have no right to be. You’re not his wife, she is. “I had a chicken wrap.”

Dave tuts, “is that all? That’s not enough, sweetheart.” He says, walking over to you. “How’s the baby? You blocked out your appointment for next week in my calendar?” He asks, leaning over you with concern in his eyes.

You’ve learned not to argue with him about food, he gets snappy when he thinks you are trying to lose weight while carrying his child. “You don’t have to come.” You protest again, even knowing it won’t do any good. He’s been there for all the appointments since he found out. “But yes, to answer your question. I did.”

“Good.” He hums, glancing back towards the open door, he takes a chance to lean down and kiss you softly. “Carol is a bitch. Don’t let her upset you. You’re fucking gorgeous.” He promises and steps back just as Justin from a few doors down walks by. Dave steps back into his office, knowing the days are ticking down and he has to make a plan. He can’t have this double life anymore

Dave doesn’t follow you home tonight. He tracks your phone, you know that, but he still insists that you text him the moment you get inside your house. You don’t even mention that he will know when you get home because he installed a camera system that alerts him to anyone showing up at the doors. As you’ve gotten further along, he’s gotten more protective. If you didn’t cling to the words he had told you months ago, you would think he’s paranoid about you doing something to get rid of the baby. Not that you could now. You love the little bean growing inside you and are looking forward to holding them. You wave to the camera when you unlock your front door, knowing that Dave will see it.

****

Carol cuts the engine to her car, just parked down the street from your house, and she gets out. She had to look up where you live and to her surprise, your home is registered under a corporation. The same one she knows her husband has his name to. She is curious about that. She makes her way to the front door, ringing the doorbell and waiting for you to answer.

Surprised that someone is ringing the doorbell, you wonder if it’s a package. Dave has been buying baby things online and sending them to the house. Your new maternity lounge clothes are comfortable and cute, highlighting your baby bump, so you don’t feel the need to change before you open the door. “Mrs. York!” Your eyes widen in surprise and you look behind her to see if Dave is with her. Why is she here? “May I help you?”

Carol pushes into the house, uncaring of your condition as she bumps into you. “I just wanted to see the place for myself. I mean…if my husband is the one paying for it, I should see what it’s like, right?” She scoffs, turning to face you.

Dread curls in your stomach, but you manage not to react. That’s what she’s here for, a reaction. “I don’t know what you mean.” You move towards your phone, even though the cameras are picking up everything in the house. “I’d like you to leave.”

Carol offers you a cocky smirk, “I don’t think so. Especially not when you’re carrying my husband’s baby. Have you always been a fat whore or did you just become that for my husband?” She asks, the grin still on her face. “Or are you just a gold digging cunt? Offering my husband a wet pussy to get a meal ticket? Too late honey, I already secured that bag.”

You swallow slightly, unable to figure out what she is planning. “I’m not-“ you shake your head. “I don’t know what you are talking about.” You repeat and put your hand protectively over your stomach. “I just want to live with my baby, alone.” You don’t want her to think that you are trying to take Dave away. You know where you’ve stood from the beginning.

Carol scoffs, “alone? As if. I see the way you look at my husband. All heart eyes. Waiting for the moment he decides to give you some attention. You can’t get a lot of it so you decided to move in on another woman’s husband. Pathetic.” She spits, “and got knocked up. Probably on purpose. I don’t know why Dave fucked you when he has me. Probably sympathy.”

“I admire your husband.” You clarify. “He’s not fucking me.” It’s a lie, but you can’t let her know that Dave is having an affair with you. “My baby is from a previous relationship. I work for your husband.” You pick up your phone and point towards the door. “Please leave, I won’t mention this to him.”

Carol doesn’t believe you. She saw the way Dave looked at you when she went to his office. She’s suspicious about why he has been so late coming home. She narrows her eyes and doesn’t realize that Dave is watching on the cameras, cursing his wife for going to the house. He grabs his keys and gets in his car, making his way over to your place with his phone still displaying the cameras. “You are a liar as well as a slut. Trying to steal my husband from me.” She hisses, tears stinging in her eyes.

“Honestly? I just want to have my baby and live my life.” You tell her quietly. “I’m sorry if you don’t believe me, but I’ve never tried to come between you and your husband.” You’ve never asked Dave for anything, not even now. You know that he’s not leaving his wife for you, even if he loves you. Even if you’re having his child. “Go home to your husband, Carol. This isn’t what you think it is.”

Carol doesn’t know what possesses her as she surges forward, a feral cry escapes her lips as she reaches out to wrap her hands around your neck just as the front door opens and Dave rushes in. “Carol! What the fuck?” He growls, reaching for her waist to drag her away from you.

You push her away as Dave drags her off of you, gasping for air and shaking as you realize this woman just attacked you. “You bitch! I’m gonna kill you! You and that fucking bastard in your fat stomach!” Carol screams as she tries to get away from her husband to launch herself at you again

Dave restrains her easily, pulling her back against him and saying her name. “Calm the fuck down!” He shouts at her as she struggles in his arms, “you fucker. You got her pregnant. I can’t - why- why would you do this?” Carol chokes, slumping back against him.

“I’m telling you, it’s not his baby!” You shout, not caring if Dave likes it or not. “He helped me get away from an abusive boyfriend.” You lie. “Putting me in this house so he couldn’t find me.” You know Dave doesn’t want to leave his family and you will protect him if you can.

Dave shakes his head, spinning Carol in his arms. “It’s my baby. I’ve been sleeping with her for months. It’s my house. I pay for her livelihood. Because - because I love her.” He confesses and Carol’s jaw drops. “You- you love her?” She chokes and Dave nods. His wife knows he doesn’t say that stuff casually. “I don’t - why?” Carol asks and Dave tuts, “you know why, Carol. You and the trainer. Like I don’t know. You’ve been cheating on me for years. I let it slide because of the girls, but I don’t love you. You don’t love me. I didn’t want to leave the girls.” He admits, “let’s be real here, you felt a change.”

“Dave…” you bite your lip, not wanting to get in the middle of their confessions but you didn’t want him to do that. You had been willing to let her believe it wasn’t Dave’s baby. Why would he ruin that? Your hand slides down to the baby bump, feeling them kick against your hand.

Carol’s lower lip quivers. She knows she can’t contain her husband. Never has been able to. He could make her disappear if he wanted to. “I- I didn’t - I did what I thought was best for the girls. I love Caleb. I didn’t - I’m sorry.” She chokes, tears stinging in her eyes. 

“Then let’s not drag this out any longer. It’s over, Carol.” He declares and she nods, knowing she can’t stay married to him when you’re having his baby. It’s over.

You press your lips together, watching her pull away from him and look towards you. “Guess you get what you want after all.” She scoffs, but it’s not nearly as hateful as it once had been. 

“I had no intention of taking him away from you and the girls.” You promise quietly, although it doesn’t matter now.

“Go home, Carol. The girls are with Sally next door. Go home and I’ll talk to you later so we can get the ball rolling for our divorce.” Dave declares and Carol nods, defeated. “Okay.” She looks back at you, “just don’t - don’t let this be for nothing.” She pleads, knowing her husband never truly loved her. Only married her because she got pregnant.

You swallow and nod, not saying anything right now. It would almost be disrespectful. You watch as she turns and quietly walks to the door, exiting much softer than she had ever entered. You can’t help but just stare at the door as it clicks closed and you exhale slowly.

Dave sighs, hands on his hips as he turns towards you. He stares at you for a moment before he steps closer, his hands reaching for you. “Are you okay? She didn’t hurt you?” He asks, eyebrows raised in concern

“No.” You shake your head and let him pull you close. “She didn’t hurt me. Dave- why didn’t you let me pretend it wasn’t your baby?” You ask. “The girls….you didn’t want to leave them.”

Dave sighs, resting his head on yours, “I didn’t have a choice. I can’t keep pretending like I don’t want to be here with you every night in your bed. I couldn’t lie. We made this baby.” His hand slides down to your belly, “I couldn’t lie about that. I love you. Carol and I- it was over a long time ago.”

You sigh and cover his hand with yours. “I didn’t want to come between you and your family.” You repeat softly, wanting him to understand that. “But I wanted you in bed beside me too. I love you.”

He kisses you softly, breathing you in. "I gotta go deal with Carol later but I promise you, after I deal with her, I am here to stay." Dave vows, "I wanted to give you something." He murmurs, reaching into his pocket after letting go of you. He pulls out a small velvet box. "Dave." You gasp, "what is that?" He opens it to display a beautiful ring. "It's a promise. I can't give you everything right now, but I promise you I will. When I can."

You lean in and kiss him, amazed that the once hard and rough man who fucked you ruthlessly is promising you the world. You have no doubt that he will still fuck you until you are weak once you’ve recovered from the baby, but for now, he is tender and more importantly, he loves you. “I’m yours, baby.” You whisper against his lips. “Forever.”

****

"Alice! Slow down!" Dave calls out to his daughter as she rushes past him chasing Molly. His son is in his arms, a whimper escaping the baby's lips and Dave smiles, cooing to the little boy. "Baby, you ready to go?" Dave asks, knowing you are nervous to leave the kids alone but Carol is taking the girls for the weekend and the baby is going to your mom's for the evening so Dave can take you out for dinner.

“Just a second!” You know that Dave is eager to leave, but you take another second to readjust your dress. It’s the red one that you had worn before you got pregnant. Maybe a little tighter than before, but you wanted to look good for him. Biting your lips before you apply the same shade lipstick. It’s just dinner, but it’s the first time you’ve gone out since having the baby. Since Dave’s officially moved in and the divorce has been final. It was amazing how quickly they got things settled and now, he lives with you and your son. Blotting your lips with a sliver of toilet paper, you rush out of the bathroom and out into the living room. “Okay, I’m ready.”

Dave's eyes widen at the sight of you. "You look fucking amazing." He says quietly as he walks over to you, not saying it too loud for the girls. "I can't wait to take it off of you later." He murmurs, his dark eyes trailing over your figure and he leans in to kiss you, mindful of the baby between you. Your mom knew about you being pregnant but you kept it secret that it was Dave's until the divorce was final. Your mom wasn't pleased about you sleeping with a married man but her distaste of him is outweighed by her love for her grandson. "Girls, we gotta get in the car. Grab your backpacks!" Dave calls out before he turns back to you, "his diaper bag is ready and he's been fed."

“You are amazing.” Dave has been the best kind of hands on father. He’s done diaper changes, sleepless nights, midnight feedings, all without a single breath or complaint. He was born to be a father, you are utterly convinced of that. Kissing his lips lightly, you giggle and reach up to wipe the smudge of red off. “Want me to put him in his car seat?” You ask.

Dave nods, "you take him. I'll get the girls." He winks and strides off to wrangle his daughters. "Come on ladies, gotta go. Your mom is waiting for you." He orders and they grab their backpacks and head into the garage. Dave straps them into their booster seats and blows a raspberry on Alice's cheek, making her giggle. He checks the baby seat and turns to look at you as you carry his son into the garage.

“He’s about ready to fall asleep.” You smile as you hand him the car seat to latch into the base. Watching as Dave carefully locks him into the SUV he insisted you be upgraded to, saying that it was only fair when it would be the car you used when having the girls. You hadn’t argued, but thought him getting a Mercedes was a little much.

Dave opens the door for you, closing it after you're settled, and he rounds the car to get in. He starts the engine and looks in the mirror at his children. With a smile, he sets off to drop the kids off. Carol is cool but cordial as the girls arrive at her house and it doesn't take long to drive to your mom's house to drop off the baby. "I know you hate leaving him but he will be fine." Dave reaches for your hand, squeezing it.

“I know.” You are so very grateful that Dave has been so understanding about your first time mother’s nerves. “Mom loves him to pieces and it will be good to have a meal where I’m not covered in formula or spit up.” You laugh. “I love him so much.”

Dave chuckles, "they grow up so fast. Enjoy the spit up...believe it or not, you'll miss it." He promises and you snort, "we will see." Dave waits in the car while you drop the baby off, watching your mom glare at him slightly but her face softens when she sees the baby and that's all that matters to him. When you get back in the car, he begins the journey to the restaurant he booked. "He didn't even blink when I left." You huff playfully and Dave chuckles, "that's not a bad thing." He squeezes your hand again and when he pulls up outside of the restaurant, he gets out and rounds the car, opening the door for you before the valet can.

You smile as Dave helps you out of the car, finding it amazing for your self esteem for him to so proudly claim you as his. He doesn’t mind that people know in the office, he holds you close in stores. He’s not ashamed of your size. “Thank you, baby.” You coo softly, giving him a flirty smile. You have been cleared for sex again, although you and Dave haven’t yet. You hope that’s why he wanted to bring you out to dinner.

He thanks the valet and escorts you inside, giving his name for the reservation and soon enough, you're seated at the table. He orders a bottle of champagne and your eyebrows raise, "well, you stopped breastfeeding so figured you could celebrate with something nice." He says, "and tonight is about us."

“It is?” You pick up your water and take a sip as you wait on the champagne. “What do you have in mind for us?” You know that Dave has been happy, at least you think he is. He’s been smiling and the girls actually enjoy coming over. They are obsessed with their little brother, and you couldn’t be happier about that.

The champagne is poured, you order your food, and Dave has a soft smile on his face as he watches you. "You look gorgeous tonight, baby." He murmurs, reaching for your hand.

“I’m just happy I fit into the dress.” You admit with a small shrug. Carol’s words had hurt, just like anytime someone had degraded you because of your weight, but Dave told you that you are beautiful so many times, you might actually believe it. “You do make big babies.”

Dave chuckles, "maybe the next one won’t be big." He hasn't made it a secret that he wants another baby with you. He loves seeing you pregnant. You smirk, "give me a chance to recover, baby." He nods, knowing it won't be too soon. "We got time, sweetheart." He promises and shifts to get out of his chair. "That's why I brought you here tonight. I wanted to ask you something." He kneels down, a small box in his hand. "You are incredible. A kind, gorgeous woman that somehow loves me. You are the most incredible mother, partner, and I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and protecting our family. Will you marry me?" He asks, opening the box.

You swallow, looking from the ring to his eyes. “Dave….” You whisper, not really expecting him to propose, even though he had promised you the world. “Of course I will marry you.” You agree quickly, starting to cry from happiness.

He grins, surging forward to press his lips to yours. You respond eagerly and diners around you applaud while Dave pulls back to get the ring, sliding it onto your finger. He kisses the back of your hand before he kisses you again, "I love you."

“I love you too.” You promise, unable to believe that you are engaged to marry this man. He’s got a dark side, of course he does, but he’s also sweet and generous and loving. “The ring is beautiful.”

Dave is happy that you love the ring. He kisses you once more before you sit back down. The waiter comes over with dessert and a “congratulations" and Dave can't stop smiling as you dig into the dessert with him.

It’s probably a normal thing to be hyper aware of the ring on your finger. You catch a glance of it every time you take a sip of champagne. “God, this is perfect.” You moan as you take another bite of the chocolatey dessert. “Orgasmic.”

He smirks, “took the word right out of my mouth.” He watches you admire the ring, and he is glad you love it. You finish the dessert and he pays the bill, eagerly to get you home. You look delicious in that dress. He loves it. He can’t wait to get you out of it. “I am gonna go to the bathroom before we leave.” You declare, eager to get Dave home too and he nods as you get up to go to the bathroom. The waiter congratulates him again and Dave thanks him, standing up after a few moments. You’re washing your hands when the door opens and Dave clicks the lock. “Dave?” You gasp and he steps over to stand behind you. “Sweetheart.” He murmurs, kissing your neck.

You can’t help but tilt your head to the side so he can do whatever he wants. Just because you haven’t been able to have sex hasn’t meant you didn’t want to. There have been a couple of times you’ve blown him since the baby has been born. He’s rubbed your clit until you’ve cum, but the sexual touches have been limited. You know what his intentions are. His lips are curved into a smirk as he kisses your skin and his already hard cock is pressed against your ass. “Dave.” You whimper, reaching back to squeeze his hard length and your cunt clenches when he twitches in your hand. “We shouldn’t.” You protest mildly, knowing you will let him do whatever he wants to you, just like he always has. 

“We should.” He declares, kissing along your neck while his hands reach down to squeeze your tits through your dress. “We can’t be long. I’m gonna fuck you here and then spend all night eating that gorgeous pussy out.” He promises, “my fiancée. Gonna make you feel good.” He vows, his hands sliding lower so he can drag your dress up your hips. “Tell me no.” He pleads, kissing your shoulder, wanting you to be comfortable. Such a difference from the man who took what he wanted from you before.

Your answer is to push your ass back against his cock, grinding it against him to hear him moan quietly. You know that he’s been eager to touch you, and you honestly want him too. His sparkly new ring on your finger, it’s the perfect way to cap off the night. “Fuck me, baby.”

Dave groans, shoving your dress up higher and his fingers hook into your panties, dragging them down your thighs. You got an IUD placed after having the baby so he knows it's safe to cum inside of you again. Your panties drop to your ankles and he steps back so he can unbuckle his belt and pull his throbbing cock out.

You watch in the mirror, groaning when you see him pump his cock. Your desire hasn’t diminished, at all, only heightening as he sleeps beside you every night. “Fuck.” You whimper, knowing the pinch of him filling you again will be amazing. “Hurry baby, we don’t want to be caught.”

Dave groans as he slides the head of his cock through your folds, loving how wet you are. He pushes into you slowly, not wanting to hurt you, and he rests his head on your shoulder, trying to keep it slow since you’re still recovering.

It’s a lot, you’re panting from the way that he fills you. Your fingers curl around the sink edge and you moan quietly. “Fuck, baby. You’re so thick inside me.” You praise him softly. “Missed this so much.”

He groans when your walls flutter around his cock. His hands slide up to cup your tits, squeezing them through your dress and your bra. "Shit. You feel - you're my little slut again. Aren't you? All mine. Only mine." He growls softly into your neck, biting down a little on the skin as the wave of possession surges through him.

You moan quietly, nodding your head quickly. “Only yours.” You promise, panting as you clench down around him again. “Your slut. Only yours, baby.”

He loves hearing it. Knowing it’s his baby, his ring on your finger. His cock inside of you. He groans your name and pushes into you, a little harder, “fuck. You feel so good. I’ve missed those.”

You whimper quietly, having felt the same. You’ve missed the physicality of being joined with him. He manages to smooth your insecurities and your doubts with his lusty, rough manner. Though he’s being more gentle than he was even the last time you had sex before the baby was born. “Love you.” You gasp, pushing your hips back. “Use me.”

He grunts, knowing that you wouldn’t say it unless you meant it. He grabs your waist, pushing into you again and again, your hips and belly hitting the counter. “Fuck. Feel so good, baby. Don’t have much time. What do you need?” He growls, his hand sliding up to squeeze your tit.

“Choke me.” You beg quietly. He wouldn’t put his hand on your throat while you were pregnant, not even once. You’ve missed when he controls your breathing and your cunt quivers around him at the mere idea.

He nods, sliding his hand higher until he’s gripping your throat. “That’s it baby.” He groans when he feels you clench around him. He loves it. He loves how filthy you are. He thrusts into you a little harder, pushing deep.

You gasp out a little sound before you bite your lip, knowing you have to keep quiet. Holding onto the sink while your fiancé squeezes your neck and starts fucking into you at a quick pace.

He clenches his jaw, squeezing your neck a little tighter. He wants you to cum. He wants you to fall apart around him so he can watch you in the mirror. Cock twitching inside of you, he is close himself and he wants you to cum first.

It’s been so long, the flex of his hand around your neck makes you come apart. Cry catching in your throat, you make a strangled sound as you soak his cock, shaking as he rocks into you.

He groans at the way you clamp down on his cock, soaking him, and he hisses through his teeth when you grip him in a vice. He struggles to continue fucking into you, his grip loosening around your neck but his jaw clenches as he pushes into you a half dozen times until he thrusts deep and pulses as he cums inside of you, painting your walls.

You shiver in delight, enjoying the heat from his cum filling you. “Fuck, Dave.” You whisper quietly, closing your eyes and leaning back against his broad frame.

He turns your head to kiss you, caressing your cheek, and he starts to soften inside you. “Too good. Missed this.” He murmurs, caressing your side. “Shall we go home?” He asks, slowly pulling out of you and reaching for the napkins.

“Yes.” You turn around and wrap your arms around his neck. “Pick up the baby, put him to bed and then I want to suck my fiancé’s cock.”

Dave groans, loving how eager you are. He leans in to kiss you, his hands finding your ass and he only pulls back because the door rattles. “Come on baby, let’s go get our boy and go home. After we are married, we will work on the next baby.” He smirks, smacking your ass after he pulls your panties up. He might be a killer but he’s found the woman who knows him, all of him, and he won’t let you go. He’d kill to protect what is his. No matter what it takes. You’re the woman he needs. 

[sacr1ficialang3l]

I am punished by love. 𓆩♡𓆪

DEAN WINCHESTER X CUPID!READER

SUMMARY: Reader finds herself getting in trouble with Lord Eros, and the boys find themselves with a dying Valentine. 3.9k

WARNINGS: A little angst, not a lot. Gods are assholes. fem!reader. Not a lot happens, but this is where the story starts getting good.

NOTES: Cupid is back! I'm sorry it took so long but classes are killing me. Anyway, she's here and she's free. I will probably write another part to this because I love them but still let me know if you'd like that. It's really freaking long because I cannot be brief when I write. Enjoy<3

Every Valentine knew that they weren’t allowed to mingle much with mortals. Yes, Lord Eros didn’t care if you occasionally talked or messed around with a human, but forming bonds with them? That was different. 

That’s why every time you met with the Winchesters, you had to be extra careful. Eros was a deity, he was often too busy to notice what every single one of his followers was doing. And your quota of love meetings was being fulfilled, so you didn’t worry too much.

You liked to surprise the brothers with unannounced appearances, especially Dean. You loved to materialize next to him at a bar, in his motel room, or sometimes even while they were visiting a morgue. You had gotten really good at dodging bullets when you scared him a little too hard, always having a fit of giggles while he clutched his pearls and grumbled at you. 

He never stayed mad for too long. 

You liked to hang around, sometimes helping the guys with research or healing them after an especially bloody hunt. The necklace that was always around your neck, the one with an arrow charm, shining with a soft pink glow as you cradle the brothers’ faces in your hands and let your power heal them. You never got involved in the hunt itself, since killing something could probably end up calling some deity's attention and the information would eventually get back to Lord Eros. 

That was, until that night.

Sam and Dean were hunting somewhere near your zone, you were informed by wind nymph you were friends with. Excited, you decided to finish work early after meeting your quota and pay the guys a visit. It had been quite some time since the last time you saw them, and you were missing the warmth that filled your chest when those green eyes were on you.

But when you materialize wherever Dean was, you see something that makes your blood freeze. Sam is on the floor, unconscious. He was bleeding steadily from a wound on his head, looking as if he had been thrown against multiple walls. But his aura was still there, which meant he was alive. But what makes you grab your bow without a second thought is the sight of Dean, tied up to a column. 

There is something in front of him, your mind doesn't even register what it is. But it is some kind of bird hybrid, with winged arms and clawed feet. But what you do register is the way its clawed hand is over Dean’s chest, steadily digging its way to his heart. 

Without thinking twice, you shoot a celestial bronze heart-pointed arrow through its chest. As the monster drops to the floor, you run to Dean.

“Dean!” Your voice is full of panic as you reach him, quickly cutting his restraints free with your dagger. 

“Sweetheart.” He leans forward, collapsing onto you, clearly dizzy with whatever the monster had done to him and still bleeding from the scratches on his chest. 

“Dean!” You yell again as his whole body weight presses onto you. You lean backwards and cup his face with your hands. After a few seconds, he is healed. Once you make sure he’s not bleeding anymore, you leave him regaining his breath with his back against the pole while you run to Sam, white tights ripped and dirty at the knees from kneeling down on the dirty floor. You quickly heal Sam too, and once he opens his eyes, you go back to check on Dean. 

But as soon as you stand up and turn around, your breath is punched out of your lungs.

There, on the floor, with your heart-shaped arrow piercing clean through its chest, was a harpy. 

“No.” You whisper, slowly walking closer to the corpse on the floor. “No, no. Please, no.”

Sam and Dean share a confused look, but Dean immediately gets up from the floor and walks closer to you. “What is it, sweetheart?”

Not even Dean’s deep voice could calm you down right now. Because you had just killed a harpy. One of Zeus’ hounds. There was no hiding from this, no way to excuse yourself. You were a Valentine, you didn’t kill monsters, you weren’t even supposed to ever find yourself in their path. A harpy would’ve never attacked you, because it would have recognized you as Eros’.

You don’t notice how bad your hands are shaking until Dean takes them into his bigger ones, his rough and calloused skin wrapping around your soft and delicate one. “Sweetheart, you’re scaring us.” He says, turning you around to face him. “Please, tell us what’s going on.”

You open your mouth to talk, but you’re interrupted by a cheerful, childish voice.

“So this is where my favorite little Valentine has been sneaking off to.” The voice is jolly and fake, and it makes you shut your eyes close.

You turn around, letting go of Dean’s hands, and immediately drop to your knees without even looking at the intruder. “Lord Eros.” You whisper, head hanging low and eyes glued to the floor.

“At least your manners are still there.” Eros’ words are full of condescendence, and you start to wonder how bad this would actually be.

People were often afraid of Gods like Ares or Hades, but they seemed to forget that love could be crueler than anything else.

“L-lord Eros, please let me explain-”

“Let you explain what, child? Why you killed a harpy, even when it is imperative that Valentines do not attack other Greek creatures? Especially Zeus’ doggies! Or maybe you want to explain why you are hanging around hunters in the first place.” Eros walks close to you, standing in front of where you were still kneeling on the floor. “All for these… boys?” He scoffs.

“Who the fuck do you think you are?” Dean takes a step closer to Eros, trying to reach for his gun. You immediately turn to him and stop him, gripping his wrist with force and looking up at him with pleading eyes.

“Dean, no.” You beg, hand still on his wrist. He looks at you incredulous, never having seen you so scared. Not when you met your first werewolf, not when you teletransported to a vamp nest by accident, not even when he had pointed his gun at you the first time you met.

You hear Eros snicker. “Get up, child.” You hastily stand up from the ground, hand still wrapped around Dean’s wrist just in case he decides to try something else against the God. “You know I am all for having some fun. I mean, I wouldn’t blame you for wanting to play a little with these two cuties.” He looks at the brothers up and down, making Dean get even more angry. “But you’re getting too involved, Valentine.”

You gulp, taking in a shaky breath. “My Lord, they helped me kill an Anti-Valentine that was killing people in my zone. On Valentine's day!” You were trying to keep your voice stable, but the weight of Eros’ eyes on you was too much. “They- they got rid of them, so I owed them one. That's the only reason I came to help them today.”

You squeeze Dean’s wrist in what you hope is a message of “I’m lying. Please know I’m lying. I am trying to save our asses, and I probably won’t succeed, but just know that I’m lying.”

“Is that so?” Eros’ eyes study all three of you quickly, and you don’t have the courage to meet Dean’s eyes and know if he got your message.

There was a long moment of silence, and then, “You would think by now you knew better than to lie to a God.”

Your shoulders slump, and your eyes shut down tightly. Dean’s hand tries to move for his gun again, and you stop him once more. 

It won’t work, you want to tell him. He’s a God, you idiot. You’re just going to piss him off even more.

“Look, I don’t know what your problem is-” Dean starts, trying to take a step forward. With one simple movement of his hand, Eros glues him to the ground. “What the-?” Dean grunts as he tries to move his feet.

“Not only did you pick a hunter, but a disrespectful one at that?” Eros sighs, looking down at his nails in disappointment. 

“Kiss my-”

“Dean.” I plead again, finally turning around to meet his eyes. 

Please don’t make this worse.

He clenches his jaw but stays quiet, murderous eyes returning to the God in front of us.

“Aw, aren't you two adorable?” Eros asks sarcastically, his inviting smile twisting into something evil. “Now, my dear Valentine. In any other case, you would be dead already. But,” He sighs again, almost as if he regrets not having killed you yet. “I remember when I reaped you. So lonely, so hurt, so… broken.”

Your eyes dart back down to the floor, a shiver running down your spine as the memory you tried to keep at bay for so long comes back to you.

“You would’ve been nothing after what happened if I hadn't reaped you.” His words are cruel, and his voice is patronizing. “I saved you, gave you a new opportunity. And if I have to be honest, you’re one of my favorites. I always did have a soft spot for pathetic and tragic stories.”

Dean fists clench, and you were sure the only thing keeping him from jumping Eros was the fact that he was magically bound to the ground. 

“I know, Lord Eros.” You whisper. “I will always be thankful.”

And in a very sick way, it was true. Greek Gods weren’t famous for their kindness and altruism. They only did things that benefited them, and reaping broken people as Valentines gave Eros a more loyal following. But nonetheless, he had saved you. And you liked being a Valentine, mistreatment aside.

“Well, it sure doesn't look like it!” He laughs. “But I am nothing if not merciful. So, I'll give you a second chance.”

Your eyes immediately dart up, wide and wary. This wasn’t a gift, it was a test.

Eros sends you a smile that makes you feel nauseous, and then he throws something your way. You catch it mid-air, and look down at it. A celestial bronze dagger. Your blood drains from your face.

“Kill them.” Eros says brightly, like he was asking you to try a chocolate from his brand new chocolate box. “I like you, you get the job done correctly. But we can’t have you distracted, so kill them.”

You stare at Eros for a few seconds, breath ragged. The necklace around your neck, the one that contained Eros’ touch, the one that marked you as his, the one that kept you alive, was burning against your skin. 

You slowly turn to Dean, who was already looking at you. His gaze was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes. Trust.

“I’m sorry” You whisper, and Dean’s eyes darken just a little, his brows furrowing. 

You fix your grip on the dagger and get ready, taking one last breath and looking deep into Dean’s eyes. 

I’m sorry.

You swifty thrust your hand upwards, cutting the necklace off in one clean movement. The arrow charm falls to the ground with a clink, the cut-up cord still hanging around your neck.

“Oh, you dumb little girl.” 

Eros sends you one last disgruntled look before snapping his fingers and disappearing in a bright ball of light.

At first you don’t feel anything, and then your knees buckle. 

You start falling forward, and the only reason you don’t end up on the floor is because Dean catches you. 

Dean screams your name, and then he feels like all the air is ripped out of his lungs. Your face, that beautiful, soft face that he had grown to love so much, was cracking. And he meant it literally. Black lines were expanding through your face, fracturing your skin like a broken porcelain doll. 

He says your name with desperation. “W-what- what is happening?” He screams your name again, eyes wild and devastated. “Sammy, we need to do something. She’s- she’s…”

You shake your head softly, feeling the ache of your skin cracking. It was as if the life was being drained out of you. You could barely move, body heavy and eyes stinging. You felt fragile and weak for the first time in ages. 

“There’s nothing you can do, Dean.’ You whisper, your usually pink lips pale and full of black little slits. “I’m sorr-” Your legs give in as the cracks make their way down to the rest of your body. You fold in half as Dean tries to keep you up.

“Bullshit, we’ll find a way. There must be something-” His voice is wet, and when you look up, so are his eyes. You want to comfort him, to tell him everything will be fine. “Come on, stay with me, sweetheart.”

Don’t worry about me. You want to whisper. I love you.

But you can't talk, throat dry and tongue heavy. 

Suddenly, there’s another bright light behind you, and all three of you close your eyes tightly at its intensity. 

Both Sam and Dean look confused, but you know what that light means. A God.

It doesn’t matter that you were about to die, you had been trained for years to be respectful of Gods. It wasn’t even devotion, it was survival. Greek gods liked being respected, they liked obedience, and they liked to be flattered. Get on their bad side, and you’ll find yourself like Arachne or Medusa or Narcissus. 

With your last bit of strength, you turn around in Dean’s grasp. You try to drop to your knees, but Dean’s arms around you keep you up. 

“Dean…” You whisper, voice dry and raw, skin still cracking. You try to kneel again, but he easily fights your weak attempts.

“Stop, sweetheart. Stop. You’re hurt.” He argues, voice shaky. He couldn’t believe the power these creatures had over you. Dean understood they were Gods, but the sight of you, breaking and dying, still trying to kneel for anyone made him almost blind with rage.

“He’s right, child. You’re going to hurt yourself even more.” Oh, you knew that voice.

Shivering with another wave of pain, you look up.

“Lady Aphrodite.” Your breath hitches. The times you had been in the presence of the Goddess of love had been scarce, but it managed to leave you breathless every single one. 

Sam’s and Dean’s eyes widen. Lady who?

They were sure this would be an easy werewolf hunt, what the fuck had they gotten themselves into?

The almost absurdly beautiful woman walks closer to you, and the air seems to shift around her, her dress made of something that looked like rose petals and clouds at the same time.

“Oh child, you’ve gotten yourself into quite some trouble.” Aphrodite says, looking down at you with eyes that tried but didn’t quite achieve empathy.

Dean’s arms tighten around you, pressing you to his chest as you start to feel even weaker. The action seemed to amuse the Goddess, and she gives everyone a cheerful smile that no one reciprocates. 

“L-lady Aphrodite, it is an honor-” You try muttering, but it only causes you to go into a coughing fit. 

“Don’t talk, child.” She orders, and you shut your mouth. “You’ve really pissed off my son, Valentine.”

“Son?” Dean asks, wary eyes still on the goddess. Oh gods, you need to give him a Greek mythology 101 class as soon as possible.

Except you are actively dying, so there would be no “soon as possible”.

Aphrodite just sends Dean an incredulous look, and I get prepared to beg for her forgiveness in case Dean had offended her. The Winchester brothers already had enough on their plate without pissing off a Greek god.

“Eros. I-I mean Lord Eros.” Sam comes to our rescue, placing a hand on Dean’s shoulders that meant shut the fuck up, dude. “He’s your son, yours and A- Lord Ares.”

“It is refreshing to see a mortal that isn’t so ignorant.” The Goddess sends Sam a satisfied look, her eyes scanning him up and down. Sam squirms under her gaze, and if you weren’t currently about to come undone like a vase that was carelessly dropped to the floor, you would laugh. 

The comment just makes Dean more pissed off, but it looks like he learned from his encounter with Eros, because he doesn’t try to attack the Goddess.

Thank Gods.

“Anyway, I didn’t come here to talk about my family tree.” Aphrodite’s dart back to you, still pressed against Dean’s chest and cracking slowly but surely. “I came here for you.”

You frown. You think about everything you’ve ever done, trying to remember if you had ever offended the Goddess enough for her to come searching for revenge on your last minutes of existence. But the look in her eyes is as soft as a God’s eyes get, and she looks almost… not sad, because Gods didn’t care enough about mortals to be sad, but something similar. 

“You know, I love a good story. Drama, tragedy, passion.” She sighs, voice dreamy as if everyone else in the room wasn’t in despair. “But love stories are so boring these days! Lovers don’t die for each other like they used to.” She shakes her head disappointedly. “If I had to watch one more man cheat with the babysitter, I was going to send in a new plague.”

All the mortals in the room shiver at her words, but Aphrodite looked as if she had just said she was going to punch a wall, not kill half the population. 

“Wait, does that mean you Gods watch us? Our lives?” Dean is frowning, an uncomfortable sensation crawling up his spine at the idea.

“Just the interesting ones.” Aphrodite makes a dismissive movement with her hand. “I was never too interested in hunters. You all are so emotionally unavailable, it is boring.” She huffs. “But you, little valentine. You have potential.”

There was no way that could be good.

“I see love, and passion, and so much tragedy!” She squeaks. 

Oh, right. Great, thank you.

Everyone in the room stares at the Goddess in disbelief, mouths parted and eyes wide. The silence is only broken when you groan again, curling in on yourself as a wave of pain washes over you. 

Aphrodite grabs your face, and it hurts. Your skin is almost completely cracked, the crevasses getting deeper and deeper, but you swallow your whine. “I can save you, child.”

Dean immediately seems to relax a bit, but you don’t. Because “miracles” like this never came for free. Gods always thought about themselves first, and you couldn’t think of what Aphrodite could ask in exchange to save your life.

“Y-you can? Please, we’ll do whatever-” You interrupt Dean before he promises something like that to a God.

“W-wait, Dean.” you cough, tongue almost black with how drained of color you were, throat feeling dusty. You were actually going to break like a porcelain doll. “What’s the catch?”

Aphrodite laughs, seemingly amused by your question. She lets go of your face and brushes her hair off her shoulder.

“Not much, really.” She exclaims graciously, a perfect smile on her perfect face. “You just gotta give me a good story!”

The room is silent again, not a cricket in the distance. You all stare at her, no one really knowing what she meant.

“Oh, come on!” She pouts. “I told you, you have potential. Give me drama, give me tragedy, give me heart-wrenching angst and tear-worth romance!”

Right, because that was so easy. You were pretty sure love wasn't in the cards for you. There’s only so much time you can spend watching everyone else fall in love while being alone until you start to get convinced you are, indeed, unloveable.

Something on your face must give away your thoughts, or maybe Gods could read minds. You weren’t sure. Whatever it was, it made Aphrodite grin. “That’s what I'm talking about! The good old tropes.”

“Whatever.” Dean grunts, feeling the way your body becomes heavier on his arms. “She’ll do it, just- save her. Please.”

Aphrodite's grin widens, seemingly pleased with what she is hearing. She presses a finger to your forehead, and a wave of warmth runs through your ice-cold body. The cracks on your skin start to close, and the vitality of life slowly comes back to you. 

“Remember, child. A good story.” And in a bright ball of light, the Goddess disappears. 

In a second, you were as good as new. You start to straighten up in Dean’s hold, his arms sliding off your body once you regain your footing. You look down at your arms and legs, free of cracks. 

You quickly look up at Dean, who was looking at you with glossy, relieved eyes. Your heart starts to beat faster. You had accepted the fact that you had to die, because if it was in between Dean or you, the answer would always be you. But now, staring at Sam’s and Dean’s broken expressions, you're grateful you didn’t die.

I’ll have to do so many thank-you offerings.

You push away the thought and instead jump forward, pulling both Sam and Dean in for a hug.

“Fuck, sweetheart.” Dean grunts, subtly burying his face on your hair. It smelled the same as always. Caramel and marshmallows. “Don’t you ever scare us like that again.”

Sam chuckles, nodding. He takes a step back first, but Dean’s arms stay around you for a moment longer. His arms around your waist are unyielding and almost desperate, and you hug him back almost as firmly. 

He finally seems to get a grip on himself and takes a step back. His eyes were still a little wild, but his grin was that same caring, playful one you loved so much.

“You’re okay.” He sighs, almost more for himself than anyone else.

“Yeah.” You take in a deep breath, trying to understand what has happened. “I mean- I don’t know what happened to my powers. I can still see auras but I don’t think I can create a meeting anymore, the part of them that told me if they were compatible with someone else is gone.” I squint at Sam, trying to read his aura correctly. “I don’t know if I can teleport or heal you guys anymore. And I can’t tell if my archery abilities were mine or I had them because of being a Valentine. I don’t even know if I still can read ancient Greek.” 

As you start panicking a little, stumbling with your words as you rant, Sam and Dean share an endeared look.

“Calm down, sweetheart.” Dean’s eyes meet yours, and the warmth in them makes your breath slow down a bit. 

Green might just be your new favorite color.

“Yeah, we have plenty of time to figure out what happened.” Sam offers you a gentle smile, and you slowly return it. “Let’s go celebrate at a bar, first round’s on me.”

Sam is right. Nothing else matters, because you are alive, and you have your boys by your side. Whatever had happened, you three would figure it out.

“There’s something else.” You say suddenly, looking up at the brothers with your shiny, big doe eyes. “I don’t have anywhere to go. Like- I don't have a home, or somewhere to stay.”

Sam and Dean share another look, silently having a conversation as your eyes dart in between them, trying to understand what was happening. 

“I think we have a solution for that.” Sam turns to you with a little smirk.

“How would you like to come live with us, sweetheart?”

[girlietips]

What I would do to get healthy for summer 🏃🏼‍♀️🧘🏼‍♀️

So I’ve seen a lot of summer body talk on tiktok and while I think the way a lot of people are going about it in a very toxic manner I do understand the want to get healthy and fit for summer.

Here is my routine that I am doing to get fit and healthy by June as someone who prioritizes adding value to my life instead of taking away things.

So since I am posting this late February I’m just going to say we have three months until summer. I also recommend tracking your progress in some way. You don’t have to use the scale a tape measure is a great way to measure progress. I also recommend keeping track of non scale victories such as any improvements with a certain exercise, clothes fitting different and mood improvement.

March

We are gonna start slow and mindful.

I think it is good to track your calories. Not going into a deficit just yet but tracking your maintenance calories (the calories to maintain your weight) and your protein (about 1 gram per pound of body weight). This will make you more mindful of your choices and help you understand some of your eating habits.

THIS IS NOT TO MAKE YOU FEEL ANY SHAME AROUND EATING!!! This is to show how you can fit your favorite foods in with moderation.

For example I recently was one a calorie deficit where I made great progress I still ate my favorite foods. Every Friday night me and my sorority sisters would split two medium dominos pizzas. I still wanted to enjoy that time so early Friday morning I would plug into my app that I was going to eat 2 slices of pizza. Then I would make sure my breakfast and lunch would be lighter but still high protein.

Also if you have a history of EDs follow the advice of your doctor and your plan.

Getting your steps in is a very easy way to raise your base metabolic rate (the number of calories your body uses just by existing)

10,000 is a great goal but if you find that too intimidating or you have other health concerns I recommend starting with just adding 2,000 steps to however many you normally get. So if you normally get 5,000 try for 7,000

I also think if you have access to a gym you should start going there to walk on the treadmill this way you can begin to get over gym anxiety and build the habit of going to the gym.

Water is literally so important and unless you are making a conscious decision to drink water you probably are not getting enough.

2 liters is the goal so buy a big water bottle and make sure it is always with you.

Also if you don’t like the taste of water I like to add lemon juice to mine and there are also great water flavoring options.

This is weird and might just be a me thing but get a straw I drink 10x the water if I have a straw than if I don’t.

You need protein to maintain muscle especially if you are going on a deficit. Like I said you should eat 1 gram of protein per pound of body weight.

If that is really difficult aim for at least 100 grams.

I also recommend finding a protein powder and bar that you like. Also I am not trying to sell you that they are more enjoyable than a candy bar or milkshake but I will say they are more enjoyable than eating a chicken breast. If you have a sweet tooth or don’t eat a lot of meat this is the way to go.

Also really important that you are still getting a proper amount of fiber to keep your digestion moving. Highly recommend Metamucil if this is something you struggle with. But also just making sure you are eating enough fruits and vegetables

April

Now that we have built up some good habits we are going to add some more.

Now you are going to add some kind of resistance/strength training to your routine.

If you’ve been going to the gym to walk start going to the weight room and grabbing some dumbbells. There are a lot of easy 1 dumbbell full routines on YouTube and TikTok so you can be in a corner and get a full workout.

If you go for a walk outside maybe end it with a YouTube workout video.

Start doing this 3-4 times a week on top of your steps goal.

This is also the time I would look towards your goals and adjust your diet and calories. Maybe you want to lose weight maybe you want to gain some weight.

If you want to lose weight don’t go extreme a deficit of 300 calories is still a deficit. No grown human can survive on 1000 calories or less. Also make sure you are eating enough protein and healthy fats still.

If you want to gain weight make sure you are strength training and upping your protein and calories so you gain muscle and strength.

If you just wanna maintain but improve your diet I suggest making healthy swaps (such as trying different higher protein ingredients, fun healthy snacks, or eating less processed food). There are so many delicious whole food recipes to try I recommend trying a new one a week.

May

May is about consistency and discipline. By now you most likely have a decent workout schedule and have made some real change with your diet. I recommend making a schedule for the month and sticking too it completely.

Keep track in a journal or habit tracking and see how many days in a row you can maintain your routines and health.

Also set yourself a reward for keeping up. My reward is going to be another piercing once I get back to my home state but it can be really anything that you really want.

If you mess up DO NOT THROW AWAY THE MONTH. Discipline and consistency are hard to build but your hard work does not disappear because you missed a day. The sun will set and rise the next day and it is better to start the day like any other rather than being hard on yourself. You only fail when you give up completely.

This will also be a great time to compare your progress.

Maybe you run faster or lift heavier.

Maybe you actually found healthy food that you like and enjoy making

Maybe you feel more confident in your skin and being active

Whatever it is take notice of the little wins and the big wins

This is what I will be doing to boost my health coming out of winter. I welcome you all to join me. I can’t say I’ll be the most active but if you dm I will see it quicker than my asks if you need to chat.

While diet culture seems to be getting a little extreme rn becoming more healthy is always good and that looks different for everyone.

Xoxo sorry I’m not that active been in a writers block where the only thing that comes to mind is all my chem homework tbh. The summer I should be back to my usual posting schedule but for now I’ll just post when I can. Love you all💋💋

[gatorbites-imagines]

Hi! I hope you’re having a great day! 🌟 I absolutely love your blog and your writing—it’s always so creative and immersive. I was wondering if you could write a Reverse Flash (Eobard Thawne) imagine for me? Here’s my idea: - [ do you know the fanfic that you did about him and normal reader? Well, I thought you could write about the wedding reception or what when on during the wedding] No pressure, of course—I just think your writing style would bring this idea to life in the best way! Thank you so much for considering my request, and keep up the amazing work! 💖

Eobard Thawne x male reader

Headcanons

I’ve been sending out job applications, how’s everyone else doing? I actually know like, nothing about weddings. The one wedding ive been through was thrown together in like three weeks.

you can find the fic mentioned here

The wedding could go multiple ways. It could be a huge wedding that costs more money than you could ever imagine. Or it could be something small and personal.

I think it makes more sense if it was a smaller wedding. Because sure, Eobard could show off, but he also has like no one to invite from his side, and he knows you prefer things being down to earth and calm.

The only person really invited on his side is Barry and that’s because you invited him, claiming that being rivals for so long pretty much made them family.

Your family has always loved Eobard, even if he has his moments where his villainy shines through. They’re all as normal as you, and could care less about his evil deeds. Eobard helps them repair stuff around their houses, and chased off your cousin Linda’s evil abusive ex. That makes him good in their books.

I think Eobard has little idea how to really plan a wedding, especially with someone he loves as much as you. Good thing he’s got you, and your one cousin who’s a wedding planner who’s helping you guys’ plan as a wedding gift.

Your family is pretty damn big, and you got people in all fields. Theres your uncle Bill whos got a major catering business, and your younger cousin who has a band willing to play. Your aunt Jenna gets the flowers for cheap, and your uncle Michael and his husband Diego run a security company.

I can even see Eobard being close to uncomfortable with just how open and supportive your super normal family is. Your nieces and nephews love Eobard for many reasons, from his red hair to him teaching them self-defense.

If it wasn’t for you, Eobard would become a major bridezilla, or should I say groomzilla? He wants it to be perfect, from location, time, season of the year, everything. It needs to be just as you guys planned. You succeed in pulling him in before he starts spiraling most days.

I can imagine Eobard would want to wear a yellow suit, but you and your groomsmen and bridesmaids end up talking him out of it. Instead, he wears a black suit with a yellow, and you wear a white suit with a red tie.

You spend quite a lot of time talking him out of stress or anger when things don’t go right, or when he’s starting to get overwhelmed. Theres multiple times you have to talk him out of time travel to get what he thinks is best.

The wedding goes off with little issue. There is a moment where Eobard wants to be mad about Barry showing up. But at this point it’s more just because he’s so used to being evil when he sees Barry. It’s like a trained reaction.

Barry brings a gift of course, off the registry since he doesn’t really know you too well.

Your family assume that Barry is related to Eobard in some way since they have a “similar energy” around them. Barry gets along well with your family, and fits into the wedding guests easily.

Eobard will never admit it, even if your family get it on video, that he started crying when you guys were saying your vows. His vows aren’t long, but are meaningful to the two of you, and it’s obvious he’s trying his best to express those feelings to you verbally.

The rings you guys wear are probably made out of some material Eobard got his hands on. something that can’t be broken by him using his powers or in battle, and something that cant be copied by others since he’s possessive.

There is of course a large party afterwards, with lots of hugs and congratulations from everyone in attendance.

As your family are all over you, laughing and celebrating, Eobard pulls himself to the side for a breather. He loves you so much, but it can be so overwhelming sometimes to feel so normal and accepted, loved even.

Barry would saddle up beside him with a drink in each hand, so the two of them end up standing side by side as people dance, drink and eat.

Barry would express how happy he is for Eobard, that he found someone who matters so much to him. That Eobard looks so much happier and healthier than the last times he saw him. Eobard would grumble but flush, mumbling about how he’s obviously better because he has you.

In the end you guys celebrate to your heart’s content, and when the party is over you guys don’t go to a hotel. Instead, Eobard runs you guys’ home so you can cuddle in bed and just be together.

Theres not much reason to hold a honeymoon in the way most others do. If you guys want to go to another country, Eobard will just run you there. Instead, you take as long time off work as you can, so you guys can just be together and do whatever you want.

[gyodragon]

POST GRIFFITH TORTURE RENASSIANCE!!! i keep staring at your art of griffith's broken stare with the bandages wrapped across his face and his emaciated little corpse beside guts...

I read this ao3 fic about his struggle with recovery in an aftermath where he doesn't go apeshit. *offers it to you gently* https://archiveofourown.org/works/609721

it made me think, as a certified griffith expert, what do you think his recovery may have looked like? could anything possibly have still made him happy after all of that... or at least minorly not-miserable? what kinds of things do you think he'd enjoy in such a state?

would he even try to grow out his hair?

The Renaissance that really constricts our hearts!! I remember when first learning Berserk, it was the transformation Griffith has after the torture that got its hooks into me and compelled me to read the series. The rest is history. Thank you so much btw! I've only drawn him a few times but it feels like more in my heart. Thank you for sending that fic my way! (I'm super into gen fic and that is a good one) *Certified Griffith Expert* AHH! That's sweet! I'd like a badge or something after this long LOL. First off, this ask has given me SUCH AN ITCH to pick 'Iron Hawk' back up (my fan project about Griffith being rescued from the Tower early and the aftermath of that. It's my baby) I'm thinking about maybe using a different, more sustainable format by writing multi-chapter fanfiction with accompanying illustrations. But I assume you mean a scenario about his recovery after the canon full year of torture. Interesting. I actually haven't put a ton of thought into that because, morbidly, I have a hard time imagining any outcome after that amount of trauma where he isn't doomed. So assuming this is a world in which he is able to make some progress in his recovery that allows him to regain some mobility and use of his hands, I could see a return of the bandit era. I could see Judeau with his ingenuity and the help of other Hawks working together to fashion him a kind of wheelchair. A Merlin chair wouldn't fit with the time period but you get the idea! Maybe he eventually uses a cane and back brace. He grows his hair out but it never comes back as thick or as long. He shows his face again but rotates a collection of partial porcelain masks to cover the worst of his scars. If his hands heal enough, he learns sign language, writes with the tip of his finger in people's palms and writes with a large pen or quill. (edit: I've recently been totally swayed by your post about him relearning to speak and whispering to his trusted inner circle. I'm SOLD) I think his band would continue to whittle down until only the most loyal remained. The core members who would inevitably transform back into his friends. He used to protect himself from 'friends' with compartmentalization when they were among the thousands of Hawks under his command. I think that Griffith's life during recovery would be hell but he could find happiness in his inner circle reducing to a small group. Like when he was a kid. I think with the deterioration of his body, it could be possible that his mind goes into overdrive. The frail, mute, mysterious general who is even more of a political/military genius. No more White Hawk. He is just 'Griffith' or 'General' or 'The prisoner'. After enough banditry and roaming, the group reclaims a comfortable position in a land away from political enemies. Griffith gives up on his dream and focuses on fulfilling the promise of his vision to just these few people. He is even able to preform Robin Hood-like feats in the countryside. Outlaw goodness, that sort of thing. He doesn't retire himself though. I have a dark outlook. I think he probably satisfies himself with this twilight campaign, sees his remaining friends in positions of security and wealth and when all is said and done he eventually claims his own life. I think Guts is the last one with him when he is finally finished.

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

pez dispenser debris for the fic ask thing? 👀

As much as this is my “kill no darlings you will get EVERY flashback” fic, there’s overarching sociopolitical backstory explaining why Izuku and the rest of class 3A exploded in the public eye that I don’t think I’ll ever fully fit in.

It’s a combination of it being more of a meta analysis than anything and also requiring information from a perspective that I know will never appear in the fic. Like, the fic still gets the different moments that make up this analysis, but there’s no explicit connecting thread to show how they all locked together to create this sort of global cult following of class 3-A. I almost put in a little fake news article opinion piece that was meant to sort of walk the reader through why society is Like This, but I decided it was too heavy handed and deleted it.

Everything that I’m going to reference has already appeared in pez dispenser debris to some degree, and none of it will ever actually materially impact the plot. They may receive a little more detail down the line if they’re mentioned in passing in the fic, so out of an abundance of caution, I’ll stick it below the cut so people can avoid this, but I don’t personally consider any of this spoilers.

Izuku and the rest of the class are famous in pez dispenser debris in a way that’s pretty much unprecedented for students. Canonically, not even all might had a name for himself until after his graduation. Pretty much everyone from class 3A are public figures, with Izuku specifically being considered a major global figure.

In my mind, there was this perfect storm right during their second year that catapulted them into fame. The class personally has varying levels of awareness of why they got so popular, but there was this perfect cross winds of societal unrest and fear that made them household names.

There was an approximately one month span in their second year where they were just hit one after another with a major firestorms of events: The UA Sports Festival, the Sidekick Strike, and the Tartarus Prison Break/Desertion of Yokohama.

The UA Sports Festival is the one that the kids attribute this most to, because so many of the news articles that followed referenced their performance in it. But it probably gave them less mileage than what the other two events did.

What the UA Sports Festival did was showcase their skills to the world in a venue designed to show them off. The public was already on edge. All Might had retired, crime rates kept going up, and people were rapidly losing confidence in existing heroes. Class 2A made such an insane showing of skill in the second Sports Festival that it made the public rave about them for weeks after. It was extremely reassuring to Japan that they had such powerful heroes in the barrel and would soon be on the streets. But that attention probably would have died down had it not been for the Sidekick Strike and Yokohama.

The Sidekick Strike actually had nothing to do with them. But it undermined the public’s faith in heroes at just the right time.

The Sidekick Strike is just one of those things that I have no POV that would even tangentially be involved in it so we’ll get a few passing references in media clips and it’ll never be discussed in depth. Which is a shame because it’s such an interesting conflict to me.

The Sidekick Strike was heavily inspired by the 1919 Boston Police Strike. Effectively, it was the height of the labor rights movement, and police officers got together and went on strike to get the police union recognized. They had tried to negotiate and negotiations failed, and so they all walked off the job. The city descended into lawlessness, the national guard was deployed, it was a whole thing. Famously, Calvin Coolidge fired the entire police force over it on the grounds that there was no striking from public safety.

I thought it would be really interesting if there was something similar that happened with the sidekicks. The thing is that the heroics structure as it stands really incentivizes abuse towards sidekicks. We have a society where there’s a decent amount of heroes who are only in it for the fame. A not insignificant amount of money must come from marketing deals. And it’s a ranked system, so they’re all in competition with each other.

Heroes wouldn’t be incentivized to showcase their sidekicks—they’d be incentivized to take advantage of them and take credit for their work.

Like, think about the work-study experiences. Momo didn’t even officially work for the hero she studied with. She wasn’t getting paid. An adult woman used her for a shampoo ad. Who wants to bet whether Momo saw a dime from it? It’s probably very predatory because the nature of the system incentivizes predation.

I thought the underlying legal issues would be interesting and complex. Who owns a sidekick’s image—the agency or the individual? Who gets the proceeds of their brand deals? This all would be governed by their employment contracts, and sidekicks just starting out have very little leverage compared to big name heroes. And those heroes would want to keep their sidekicks names small and theirs big. The rankings are competitive, after all.

It’s a situation where I do think that like. The sidekicks would have a point in unionizing. The use of their image, appropriate compensation, and proper credit for their busts would all be like, very legitimate concerns in a normal employment context.

I see agencies like Idaten settling immediately with the union and having their sidekicks back on the street before the day is out. In my mind, idaten is considered the gold standard for sidekick jobs already, and their employees mostly did it out of solidarity with the people they worked alongside of. Like, Idaten was already doing most of the union’s demands and signed off very quickly on the remaining ones. If it was just about the Idaten sidekicks, none of them would have gone on strike, but they had a lot of colleagues who they depended on in the field who were in terrible situations. What were they gonna say, sorry, sucks to be you, I got a great gig though so condolences? These were the people keeping them alive. They went on strike because they knew Idaten would publicly settle before the day was out and set an example for the rest of the agencies. Hopefully it would help other agencies follow their lead.

But that didn’t happen. Some agencies, like Endeavor’s, fired everyone immediately. And I think a lot of agencies spent a long time picking over every line item in prolonged negotiations. It dragged out.

And that went over fucking terribly.

All Might just retired. Crime is up. And their sworn defenders are bickering over who gets what cut of the action figure line. Like I think the public would have fucking hated this in a post-All Might world. It would have seemed like the only real hero just medically and irreversibly retired and the rest of them are squabbling about whose turn it is in the spotlight.

I also think that the villains would have taken advantage of it.

The Tartarus Prison Break in pez isn’t the one that happened in canon. Here, the League of Villains attacked Tartarus and set everyone loose. In the process, they made a very clear stance: they are going to leave with All for One, and they are not going to attack any civilians. They won’t fight at all unless attacked first.

All of the horrible and sadistic villains they just let go have not made the same promise.

They chose to do this now because of the Sidekick Strike. All their heroes don’t give a fuck about protecting them, so they’re strapped for staffing. So they’re taking back their leader and going back to ground, and the heroes are free to immediately go after and contain all those bad bad villains who just escaped. And those guys are headed to the heavily populated mainland, so better be quick.

The whole world knew that was their explicit reasoning and promise. Because Himiko fucking lived tweeted the escape.

The Sidekick Strike took the hit for a lot of the blame, but I do see all the sidekicks breaking strike lines to go respond to the crisis. But response times were severely handicapped by the fact that most if not all of them were cut off from their agencies. It was just a complete systemic breakdown.

And then there became the question of what crisis do you respond to: All for One’s escape, or everyone else’s?

I mentioned in one of the little fake tumblr posts that the Tartarus Prison Break was seen as Endeavor’s greatest failure. And part of that is because he chose to sacrifice the nearby area, Yokohama, to contain All for One.

I am one of the biggest haters of Endeavor’s later arc, specifically because it required going back on the nature of the abuse he had subjected his family to that was already established in canon, but that’s a different rant. This is not canon endeavor. I hate what they did with canon endeavor.

That being said, I do think that the self doubt weighed on him once he became number one. And this was the moment of his career where it really crushed him.

All for One had escaped. So had every other villain from Tartarus. He should go after the most immediate threats. He knew this. It was basic triage.

But they would never have a better chance to stop All for One.

Prisoners in Tartarus aren’t exactly hitting all their macros and micros or training daily. They are not adherents to the Bakugou Katsuki Fitness Lifestyle. All for One was coming off spending the last few months drugged up to his eyeballs and strapped to a chair in a straitjacket with at least fifty guns pointed at him at all times. The man has not scratched his own nose in weeks. He’s weaker now than he’ll ever be again.

It was their best chance.

If he escaped, and he went back to ground, he’d have the time and space to get as strong as he wanted, and then he’d come back for real. And he’d be coming back for everything.

Stopping him the first time had cost them All Might.

And Endeavor simply was not All Might. And he still wouldn’t be All Might when the next fight came.

It really was the hardest decision of Endeavor’s life. He had to admit to himself that his own inadequacy was going to cost them countless lives. But he thought it was a hard decision he had to make. He was losing the battle for the barest chance at winning the war.

So he made the call that all heroes were to respond to All for One. They had to hit the league of villains now with their full force if they were to stand a chance. They could not afford to divide their already sparse forces. They’d respond to Yokohama when AfO was contained.

He was also the one who made the call to broadcast the warning message that we hear in the Twitter post. He thought it would give civilians their best chance. He didn’t want them to act with the expectation of the heroes being en route.

Of course, that meant that the entire city got fucking sirens going off and a message telling them that the heroes were not going to save them. Which, as you can expect, did not do a lot for public morale.

In my head, Tartarus is like, the equivalent to Gotham’s Arkham. It’s borderline an institute for the criminally insane. You don’t end up there unless you did something super fucked, are super dangerous, and have extreme violent tendencies. It’s exclusively for the most dangerous and indiscriminately violent criminals in the country.

The entire world was watching in real time while the tragedy unfolded. A lot of people were livestreaming after the emergency broadcast dropped, because they didn’t want the government to be able to handwave away how terrible their death was, or because they didn’t know what else to do, or because they just didn’t want to be alone. The full expectation was that it’d be a massacre.

But it wasn’t. Because Class 2-A responded instead.

The Class 2-A defensive efforts were discussed in one of the silly little fake tumblr posts and in the fake twitter post. In those, we find out that 1) Class 2-A, along with Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire responded to the scene; 2) the entire class rolled out of Mirio’s fucking mom van and tamaki and nejire’s cars like they were fucking clown cars; 3) the HPSC claimed it was a legitimate operation blessed and coordinated by them; and 4) a lot of people think this was a lie, in part because videos leaked of Aizawa bitching them all out in the street afterwards. We also see Izuku’s green lightning at the end of the twitter video, showing him responding to the scene just as the first villains hit the mainland.

This fight has a lot of names in the backstory that lives in my head. It’s called the Tartarus Prison Break for obvious reasons. It’s also been called in some circles the Desertion of Yokohama, because of the call Endeavor made.

But it’s also called the Battle of Yokohoma. And it’s ranked alongside the Battle of Kamino as one of the finest acts of modern day heroics. And that’s because of Class 2-A. If it hadn’t been for them showing up, it would have gone down in history as the Massacre of Yokohama.

Like. It kills me that I can’t include the full details of what happened, but there’s just too much to make in a flashback. It’s a fic in and of itself. But it really was the fight that made Class 2-A.

It was the first fight where they were really the only heroes that could be counted on. Granted, they’d had to fight for their lives alone, but this wasn’t just their lives. These were thousands of terrified civilians who all thought they were going to die.

It was the first true test of them as heroes in the world. And they actually rose to the occasion. They didn’t just fight the villains—they realized that they needed to get emergency services working throughout the city if everyone was going to make it. Momo and Tsuyu conducted a mildly hostile take over of the emergency call center so they could coordinate relief. They had fucking Tokoyami and Dark Shadow single-handedly holding the line on the hospital while Kaminari, Shoji, Jiro, and Sato all learned to drive for the Very First Time while commandeering the city’s fucking ambulances. They were fighting and containing villains, performing emergency aid, putting out literal fires, everything. It was the hardest fight of their lives.

There was a hot second where Class 2-A was The Moment. Like. The entire world was watching them during this fight, and they had no fucking idea until it was over. People lost their minds when the first footage made it out of Yokohama of a bunch of teenagers showing up and immediately throwing hands with S-Class villains.

It was global news. Think of the kind of media attention that was received by the search for the Titan, the Tham Luang Cave Rescue, the Suez Canal getting blocked by the Ever Given (rip queen you will always be famous to me), that kind of thing. Class 2-A was fighting for their fucking lives and then found out three days later while they were all still in the hospital that there was a prayer vigil going on in Portugal for them during the battle and CNN had 24 hours live coverage of the fight that had so many viewers it outnumbered the population of Finland. Like what do you even do with that information.

The world expected a massacre. They didn’t expect a bunch of footage of high schoolers kicking the shit out of superpowered murders and personally ferrying the injured to the hospitals they were also defending.

The other part about this fight that really made them permanently part of the public consciousness is that it was not lost on everyone that every single person who responded to that fight did so at the risk of their license.

All of them had provisional licenses, save Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire, all of whom went AWOL from the explicit directives ordering them to respond to the fight against All for One. The operation could not have been less authorized. They had to steal their gear and jimmy the UA fence to even get out. The explicit plan was to steal one of the UA buses and have Bakugou fucking drive them to the fight (he also did not know how to drive but he seemed the most likely of them to break literally every single motor vehicle code to get them there but still be naturally talented at it enough to not kill them) but Izuku told Mirio what bullshit they were up to and Mirio, who was with Tamaki and Nejire when the news broke, immediately decided he would be on that bullshit too and pulled up in his mom van.

In my mind, there were strict rules around provisional licenses and how they could be used, and they broke pretty much all of them to respond to Yokohama. It would have been grounds to revoke their provisionals and permanently bar them from heroics. Lemillion, Suneater, and Nejire could have all lost their licenses for helping them and for going AWOL.

The HPSC fucking fell over themselves to legitimatize the entire operation. They knew they were utterly fucked if they didn’t. These kids already had murals being painted of their faces in other fucking countries. There was a little old lady in Kyoto livestreaming herself working overtime to embroider Iida’s face onto a cushion because that lovely young man saved her darling granddaughter from *checks notes* horrible and painful death directly caused by the failings of the current HPSC administration. There were multiple trending posts online agreeing to fucking riot if those kids got in trouble for this.

Every single actual hero in the immediate vicinity of this disaster had responded to fight a villain who wasn’t actually attacking anyone. And then they fucking lost. They publicly broadcast a message saying Good Luck Champs Because We’re Not Going To Save You. It was an actual PR nightmare that they had a bare chance of salvaging if they just latched onto these kids like an aggressive parasite and that is exactly what they did.

They totally knew. Actually, it was a joint operation coordinated by and between UA and and the HPSC. Why would the kids be in trouble?? They had responded because the HPSC told them to.

UA gave it a week of dead silence and then issued a short statement praising the bravery of their students in a recent HPSC approved mission, and then they never said another word about it. They didn’t have any choice but to go along with the HPSC’s story. If they contradicted them, all of class 2-a would find their licenses pulled by the end of the day, and lord knows they wouldn’t wait for the court of public opinion to work its magic and would just all go out and become fucking vigilantes, because why not. Aizawa has aged 100 years since he got this class. Every single day he thinks of how it was a 50/50 shot between him and Vlad.

No one in the class is fully aware of just how famous they were in the immediate aftermath, because the school bent over backwards to try and shield them from it as much as possible. Like, they have an idea, but none of them saw the full explosion firsthand because of just how hard the school worked to keep it from them. Aizawa confiscated the internet router and told them it was punishment for whatever the fuck they did to the buses (thank god Mirio was just as crazy as them because they were NOT GOOD at hotwiring cars) but really it was to try and insulate them from it a little bit. Like. Japan’s Imperial Family wanted to do an official visit. The White House offered to host them. They received interview requests from every major talk show on the planet. Buzzfeed wanted to do a puppy interview with them.

Right now, Aizawa’s terrified for Midoriya’s graduation, but in the aftermath of that, he was breathing into a paper bag about all of them. Society had sort of latched onto them like they were the last life raft on the titanic. All for One was back, and All Might wasn’t, and the heroes had publicly broadcast a message saying they were useless, but don’t fucking worry, fifteen year old Iida Tenya is on the case. Society will be upheld by Kaminari Denki, currently viral for driving a real life city ambulance one hundred miles per hour down the street while screaming “WEE WOO BITCH.” And don’t forget the pillar that will be Mina Ashido, who rushed over to him earlier that day to show him her extra sparkly pink nails. And if you have a major fight that needs to be won? Don’t fucking worry, just send out bone-breaking boy wonder Midoriya Izuku and his equally reckless brother Toogata Mirio, because their dumbasses managed to take down an S-Class villain team that only All Might could defeat the first time around. Don’t worry about the multi week hospitalization they needed after, because that’s an acceptable burden to put on children.

When Aizawa started this job, he promised himself he would never send a student out to die. Some of them would die. But it would be tragedy, not damnation. He’d have given them their best chance. Part of the reason why he made that promise was because he sort of felt like his teacher sent him out set up to die, and it’s only luck that he made it through his first couple of years.

He has gone to the funeral of every single student he has ever had who did not make it. He goes back to their graves every year.

He was fucking petrified after Yokohama that society would push these kids too far too soon. Every single one of his classes before them had gotten the benefit of being practically unknown their first few years. They didn’t have the world talking about them like they were already the top heroes. He was terrified they wouldn’t have the space to learn and grow when they started.

A lot of teachers would have tried to mine the notoriety of Yokohama to hard launch their students’ careers. Aizawa told Nedzu point blank that he would quit tomorrow if he did not help him quash this thing as much as possible, and nedzu agreed.

This world killed its real heroes. It sucked them dry and left them like All Might, and he just needed fucking time. He needed fucking time to let them be kids and maybe they’d survive.

Izuku ended up being the one who escaped the aftermath of everything the least. His Quirk was too much like All Might’s for the world to let go of him easily.

And then Stain got fucking dogpiled by idaten in the aftermath of the Tartarus prison break and implied he considered Izuku the only true hero in the absence of all might and everyone started asking super inconvenient questions like “how does stain even know you exist” and “no really he called you by your actual legal name how does he even know that” and it just. It didn’t help things. Izuku’s suffering.

So yeah. There was just this absolute collision of a total lack of faith in current heroes combined with a huge swell of public trust in class 2-a that led us to being in the landscape we are now. All of the currently licensed heroes said that they wouldn’t be there to save the public, and then Class 2-A immediately hit back that they would be there. Actually, they’ll risk everything to be there. They’ll die to protect the public and they’ll risk the entire future they had been trying to build and they will fucking be there to save them.

There’s a lot of people that never forgave the heroes for deserting Yokohama. And there’s even more people who have absolute faith in Izuku and his classmates because they didn’t. That’s why the world is watching them so aggressively. These kids are the most trusted heroes in Japan right now.

I wish I could fit in more about what happened, because I love this backstory so much, but 1) some of it absolutely requires POVs like Endeavors, which we won’t get in pez dispenser debris, 2) there’s no one POV that could tell the full story via flashback and 3) it’d just be too long of a divergence. Like. It really is a whole fic of its own. I’d love to write it one day but I probably won’t have the time

[five-rivers]

Feathers and ink are currently winning. When I finish and post this, I will start another ficlet with whatever is winning (or in second place) then.

.

Ghost Writer held out a book to Danny. Its surface was dark leather, tooled in a pattern like overlapping feathers, and the edges of its pages were covered in something gray-green and metallic. It was small enough that it could have easily fit in one of Danny's pockets, and thinner than the composition book Danny had in Language Arts. The one that Desiree had blasted half the pages out of one time. If it wasn't for its vague glow and the obviously expensive materials it was made of, Danny would have thought it was a cheap pocket notebook.

"If you want me to allow you and your... friends into my library," drawled Ghost Writer, "I have one more task."

Danny made a face at him. He, Jazz, and Sam (Tucker's spring break project was revamping 'Team Phantom's' computer setup) had been running around all week doing Ghost Writer's chores. The things he did to get his sister reading material... Although having one less enemy, especially one less enemy who could warp reality as long as they could make a rhyming poem about it, was probably a good idea.

And, as Jazz had pointed out, Danny had wrecked his book. And his Christmas had been ruined, too.

(In Danny's opinion, if the guy could warp reality, he could've tried to warp his poem back into existence before deciding to break the truce and ruin Danny's reputation... But he wasn't going to say anything about that to Ghost Writer's face. The guy was mental.)

"And does this task have a part a, b, and c, too?" asked Danny. Jazz nudged him. He elbowed her back. After all the stuff they'd gone through this week, he thought he was allowed to be a little snarky.

"I want you to read this--" Ghost Writer waggled the book up and down, "--out loud."

Danny sighed. "It's full of insults, isn't it?" he asked. "Or it's the Christmas poem." He wasn't sure which one would be worse.

"Read it out loud," suggested Ghost Writer. "Find out."

"I could read it," said Jazz.

"I want him to read it," said Ghost Writer.

Danny rolled his eyes and snatched the book. He looked over the outside, curiously. It was honestly a bit too nice to be full of insults, which lead credence to the Christmas poem theory. He flipped it over to the back. That cover had a different pattern. Something scaly and pitted, almost demonic.

"You know," said Sam, in the sugar-sweet tone she usually saved for when her parents were being truly impossible, "if that book is cursed after all the crap you've just put us through, I'm going to shove it down your throat. And then some."

Ghost Writer smiled with sharp teeth. "I'd like to see you try."

Sam fingered the button on her custom-built SAMmunition Thrower (Danny disavowed all responsibility for naming the thing... publicly, that is). "So would I."

Ghost Writer, apparently sensing Sam's shark-like appetite for blood, raised his hands. "So long as he's as noble as you all seem to think he is, nothing bad will happen to him."

"Wow," said Danny, "and if I'm not that noble?"

"Then I wouldn't want you in my library. Come now, I thought you were serious about this. Don't beg off like Randy always does."

Danny had no idea who Randy was, but he also didn't want this... conversation... to drag on any more than it already had. He opened the book. Jazz caught his wrist.

"Maybe you shouldn't," she said.

"You say that now?" asked Danny, aggrieved. "I had to fight giant bookworms. And that owl."

"That bastard never returns anything on time," said Ghost Writer.

"Then kick him out," said Danny.

"And disrupt the inter-library loan system? I think not." Ghost Writer sniffed. "If you aren't going to read, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

Danny resisted the urge to roll his eyes again - if you did it too often, people stopped taking you seriously - and looked down at the book. He squinted at the thick, wiggly, black characters.

"What is this, black speech? Something lifted from Cthulhu?"

"It's Kehnngh," said Ghost Writer, smugly. "It's a very old, very tradition type of Ghost Speech."

"Whatever," said Danny. "I'm more likely to die choking on this than whatever curse you're about to backstab us with, so whatever."

Ghost Writer made an offended sound. "I would never."

"If you know what's good for you," agreed Sam.

Danny made one last face at the book, then started sounding out syllables. "Nelghrù ro-- rlo? Nî dak gegri ghakhumâ kîsh sti chthe ngngîgn... Ew, I don't think throats are designed for that. Se famî lú ghu dizg..." He stumbled over the first sentence, then licked his lips. He'd changed his mind. Ghost Writer was having him read this because it was so far off anything humans spoke that it hurt. "Nelghrù nghftomerra... Yikes. Mglwno hâta nî... Ugh I have to say it again. Nghftomerra nû skog..."

He went on, swallowing back discomfort. This really wasn't a pleasant language to read. "Kal hûh mglwno wgatu phlu ka du hagthu..." He stopped to cough into his elbow. "Kal nghftomerra mglwno lgizgu..." He coughed again. It was like he'd inhaled something. A hair, maybe. "Lgizgu fu chthoh ghishù wgatu--"

This time, he couldn't hold back the coughing fit, which was stupid and embarrassing since in ghost form he didn't really breathe as much as--

Something black splattered the pages of the book. Something black and... What was that bitter wetness on his lips? Not blood. He knew the taste of blood. He knew the taste of ectoplasm, too, and that was far sweeter. He coughed again, the feeling of something in his throat unbearable, and this time the cough ended in a gag as liquid poured from his mouth and nose. He gagged again and dropped to his knees.

Ink splattered the floor and the pages of the book where it had fallen.

Jazz dropped down at Danny's side, her hands on his shoulders, as Sam fired at Ghost Writer, the high-speed ectoplasm ampoules bursting on the wall as he disappeared somewhere.

"Danny," she said, "Danny, can you breathe? Breathe with me."

Danny, incidentally, couldn't. There was something stuck in his throat, tickling like a feather. Like a lot of feathers. Ink dripped off his outstretched tongue.

"What did you do?" demanded Sam as Ghost Writer ducked behind a shelf.

Ghost Writer laughed. "Whatever you meant to do with my library, this will reveal your intentions!"

"Like running around and doing your errands all week didn't?"

"I won't trust anyone who destroys books!"

Oh, yeah, and this didn't count as destroying a book, did it? Even though the thing was now completely soaked in ink.

Danny heaved and something wriggling started to force itself up his throat. His whole body shuddered as more ink spilled into his mouth, this time accompanied by something that felt like masses of frayed wet string.

Or, maybe, fur, from how the thing was moving.

This was the moment Jazz decided to attempt the Heimlich maneuver. It was such a mundane solution that Danny was shocked when it worked, a wad of wet black feathers shooting out from his mouth.

"Feathers!" said Ghost Writer, sounding disappointed.

They quivered, and Danny reached out to pick up the bird and set it on its feet, brushing off the worst of the ink as he did. His hand made a messy print when it fell back to the floor.

"A bird?" This time, the Ghost Writer sounded downright exasperated. "Why is it a bird?"

"Better a birdie than a hole in one, which is what you're going to be," said Sam, venomously.

"I think," said Danny, faintly, "I know why a raven is like a writing desk."

"What?" asked Jazz, apparently baffled by the non-sequitur. Well, Danny was baffled, too.

The bird hopped sideways and ruffled its feathers, shedding black droplets.

"They can both be covered in ink."

"It's a pun?" said Ghost Writer, apparently offended by the whole concept.

"That's more of a riddle," said Danny. "Calling him Edgar Allen Crow would be a pun."

The crow - or was it a raven? - cackled madly.

There was a long moment of silence from Ghost Writer. "Fine," he said, still safely behind a bookshelf. "You can look at my books, but you can't check anything out."

Danny raised his head to stare incredulously at Ghost Writer. Edgar Allen Crow did the same.

"... Let's go home," said Jazz.

I want to do some soft body horror.

[sunflowersandsapphires]

what about Frank with a girl who's a pothead and didn't tell him? one night he just comes home and gets in bed only to see her staring at him all red-eyed, relaxed, and quiet, he'd probably think something's wrong. only if you're comfortable with writing that tho. hope you have a great day!

I hope YOU have a great day, anon! I am absolutely comfortable writing about pot and getting high. I indulge in a legal edible from time to time and it’s lovely to have my brain turn off for once. Headcanons below the cut!!

I think you’re absolutely right that Frank would assume somethings wrong. You’re not acting like yourself and your eyes are all red? He’s rushing to your side, frantically looking you over for signs of injury.

“What happened, you hurt?”

You don’t mean to laugh at his concern, but it’s such an adorable display. Set off in a fit of giggles, you throw your arms over his head. “‘M fine, Frankie. Just high.”

“High? What’d you take, doll?” The explanation does nothing to ease his worries, only making him spiral as he recalls stories about overdoses and laced recreational drugs. It takes you 15 minutes to get him to stop pestering you about where you acquired said drugs.

Once you’ve somewhat convinced him that you’re not gonna keel over and die, he’s in mother hen mode—Scowling profusely as he putters around in the kitchen, pouring you a glass of water and fixing you a protein-filled snack.

“You’re not supposed to eat healthy things while high, Frank!” You whine, rolling your eyes good naturedly as he pushes the celery and peanut butter towards you.

“I’ll remember that for next time. Eat.” He demands, leaving no room for you to object.

You’re hungry enough that you finish the whole plate. You chug 3 glasses of water too, Frank dutifully standing to refill the cup each time you empty it.

He is definitely not happy that you’re willing to indulge in THC without telling him, but I think it could be worked out if you chatted with him about it.

Unfortunately for you and your fuzzy brain, he would not wait until you were sober to have this conversation.

“It’s dangerous, doll. You could get hurt.”

“It’s not as dangerous as people thought 30 years ago, Frank.”

“You callin me old?” The stink eye he gives you has you cracking up.

“Maybe I am, old man.” You tease, snuggling into his side with a happy sigh. “I know you worry, but it makes me feel good, Frank. I feel all, floaty and giggly. Helps me relax.”

As long as it wasn’t shaping up to be an intrusive or unsafe habit, I think he’d eventually come around. But he’d be helicopter boyfriend-ing the entire night every time you indulged 😂

[voitier]

𝒾𝓃 𝓌𝒽𝒾𝒸𝒽... your angel of a boyfriend always respected your wishes and boundaries. but what happens when you feel your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground?

𝒸𝑜𝓃𝓉𝒶𝒾𝓃𝓈... [smut!] teasing, making out, mentions of dry humping, fingering, reader's first time, softdom!gguk × inexperienced!reader, gentle sex, mentions of discomfort during penetration.

▸ 𝓔𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓱 𝓲𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓶𝔂 𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓼𝓽 𝓵𝓪𝓷𝓰𝓾𝓪𝓰𝓮

▸ 𝔀.𝓬: 2𝓴 +

There were certain things you absolutely loved about your boyfriend, like the way his eyes lit up in excitement when you cooked him his favourite meal, or the way his natural non-toxic masculine energy immediately put you at ease, making you slide into your soft feminine energy naturally. This was probably one of the first things you noticed even before you got together, slowly becoming aware of how well you fit into a balanced dynamic that you both felt comfortable in.

But, most of all, you loved the way he never pushed you to do things you weren't keen on doing, never made you feel like you had to something for him "because he said so", never forced anything. Always treated you so well, so gently, so lovingly. He held you at night tight enough like he was afraid you would slip from his arms, but also so delicately like he was scared he could break you if he made a tiny mistake, the same way glass shatters to the ground if you're not careful enough.

So it shouldn't have been a surprise when you told him you weren't ready to have sex just yet, tears striking down your face in fear he would leave you right then and there, and he didn't even appear to be annoyed by that. If anything, he ran you a warm bubble bath, hugging you from behind while cuddling you and whispering sweet nothings to reassure you that no, he wouldn't leave you for that and yes, he would wait as long as you needed. 

"Thank you," you had whispered, sniffling softly as the sobs finally subdued. Jungkook gathered the bubbles in the palm of his hand, blowing them in your face. His expression visibly relaxed as you giggled, wiping the scented bubbles that landed on the tip of your nose. 

"Princess, I don't want you to feel pressured about doing anything with me, got that? I could never leave you, I love you too much. also, your cute little face got me wrapped around your pinky."

A few months had passed from that moment, and he had kept his promise. This doesn’t mean that you never shared moments of intimacy, but rather that you both opted for things that you liked and were comfortable in, like grinding while making out, or giving and receiving oral. And you always felt so at ease, so sure that he would never take advantage of you in any way or form.

But as time went on, you felt your resolutions slowly crumble to the ground: it all started with following him on set, watching mesmerized as he posed for the camera. He was magnificent in his expressions, in his demeanor, in the way he rocked the outfits given by the CK company. He was confident, alluring, his muscles moving in a way that made you feel tingly all over. His eyes caught yours, crouched on the chair behind the camera, trying to be invisible to the eyes of all the professionals that hurriedly walked around you. You watched as a weird glint sparkled in his eyes, his lips curling in a knowing smirk briefly before he snapped back into character, leaving you a flustered, breathless mess. You weren’t entirely sure, but after that it looked like he posed even sexier for the camera, manipulating his body so that it could allure you in the same way a siren’s song allures pirates before devouring them. and god, did it work…

You shifted around uncomfortably, fiddling with your phone, looking around at anything to tear your eyes from your boyfriend, trying to ignore the wetness pooling between your legs. and Jungkook took notice of every effort you made to hide your need, quite amused by it all. Soon after, the director called for the end of the day, screaming loud enough for everyone to hear “good job, guys, see you tomorrow!”, clapping his hands and stopping by the photographer to discuss something about the lightning of some photos. 

Jungkook shrugged his shoulders, stretching his body to relax his tensed limbs before making his way to you, chuckling darkly when he noticed you acting like you weren’t paying any attention to him. he leaned over you, trapping you between his arms as his lips hovered your ear. “What's wrong, princess?” he purred, nibbling softly your earlobe. Your breath struck in your throat at his sultry tone, and you prayed he couldn’t hear your heart thrumming in your chest, or your hands shaking by your side. You felt like you were floating in a bubble where nothing mattered aside from his presence, and his musky cologne that clouded your senses and made your head dizzy. You closed your eyes breathing it in, parting your lips slightly to let out a soft breath.

Jungkook hummed pleased at your responsiveness, cupping your jaw with his warm hand. He traced your bottom lip with his thumb, staring at it almost as if hypnotised by his own action, pulling it down softly before murmuring “let’s go home, princess”, a tinge of urgency lacing his words. 

The drive home was probably the quickest you’ve ever been in, with Jungkook’s foot slamming the pedal to the ground, one hand grabbing possessively your thigh and fingers touching where you most need him with featherlight pressure. As soon as the car pulled into the driveway Jungkook was quick to pick you up and bring you inside, pushing your back against the door as soon as it closed behind you. 

His lips immediately found yours, pulling you into a desperate kiss. He gently pulled your hair at the back of your neck, angling your face better in order to deepen the kiss. You moaned, the sound swallowed by your boyfriend’s lips, hands tugging at his shirt to take it off. Jungkook pulled back slightly, groaning at the sight of your swollen red lips and hooded eyes. “Bedroom?” he asked, throwing his shirt on the ground.

“Yes, please” you whispered, following him around the house as more kissing and more stripping occurred, ending up in the bedroom already half naked and even more worked up than before. You wiggled out of the shirt that covered your chest and your panties-clad bottom, straddling your boyfriend’s lap as he sat against the headboard.

“C’mon, princess, you know what to do” he said, hands holding your thighs firmly while you rocked back and forth, whimpering as his still clothed boner provided the perfect friction against your aching clit. “Want… more,” you cried out, hips rutting desperately. Jungkook’s lips latched on your skin, sucking deep purple spots all over your neck and collarbones. “Yeah?” he asked against your flesh, “what is it that you want, princess?”

Your cheeks burned at the embarrassment, yet it didn’t stop you from whimpering “want you inside me”. You felt your boyfriend’s body tense beneath you, his kissing stopping on the spot. His hand cupped your jaw, keeping you in place as his eyes locked with yours. “What did you say, princess?”

If possible, you felt your whole body catch on fire just from his tone alone, trying to divert your gaze as you repeated shyly “want… want you inside me. Please”. You swore you felt his cock throbbing at your words, his pupils completely blown out in lust. The fingers that held your jaw twitched briefly before he asked “you’re sure, princess?”, struggling to hide the restraint in his voice. You nodded, rocking your hips tentatively to spur him on.  

He bit his lip, trying to hold back the smile that threatened to break over his face. He failed at that, though, and a happy giggle escaped his lips as he switched your position, letting you fall on the soft pillows, your back landing on the mattress. He showered your face in excited kisses before he finally calmed down, a serious expression on his face. “Promise you’ll tell me if I'm hurting you or if you want to stop”. You smiled, nodding your head. “Pinky promise”. And just like that he was on you again, reaching a hand behind your back to flick your bra off your chest, sighing in pleasure once he cupped your breast in his hand, gently rolling your nipple between his thumb and pointer finger. 

“Always looking so pretty,” he purred, reaching a hand down to unzip his pants, trying to take some pressure off his painfully hard member. He groaned, muttering a small “fuck,” before lowering his head on your torso, kissing his way down all the way to your panties. He pressed a hand on your thigh, keeping you spread over in front of his eyes. He smirked pleased at the wet patch on the baby blue fabric of your thong, rubbing his thumb up and down your clothed slit, then pressing his finger on your clit. “Oh fuck- please, Kook,” you moaned, bucking your hips up to gain some more friction. 

“Patience, princess,” he whispered, blowing softly on your clothed sex. You gasped at the feeling, trying to press your thighs back together, but you were stopped by Jungkook’s firm grasp that pinned you to the bed. “How sensitive,” he chuckled, teasingly licking a stripe up the drenched fabric. You whimpered, a string of pleas falling repeatedly from your plush lips as you grew progressively more desperate for more.

“Oh I know, I know, princess,” he cooed, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties and pulling them down, throwing them somewhere on the floor. “Gonna make you feel so nice,” he continued, stopping to admire your glistening folds, all wet and leaking just for him. He ran his pointer finger between your folds, gathering your moisture before slowly slipping the finger in. 

“Oh-” you gasped, closing your eyes as Jungkook’s finger stroked your walls, curling it just right. “Gonna put another one in,” he murmured, slipping another finger in. A loud moan escaped your lips, spurring your boyfriend to move in quicker and deeper movements, his fingers hitting repeatedly your g-spot almost as if in a quest to let you release as many sounds as possible. Slick sounds and ragged breaths filled the room, your mind clouding into a hazy state. The bands in your stomach threatened to snap at any moment now, your walls fluttering around Jungkook’s fingers.

Said man, of course, wanted to toy with you a little longer before giving you the relief you needed, and that’s why he immediately pulled his fingers out, chucking darkly at your disappointed whines. He slipped the same two fingers in his mouth, moaning around them as your juices dripped on his tongue. “Always taste so good,” he groaned, leaning down to kiss you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. “Think you’re ready for me, princess?”

You nodded eagerly, though you couldn’t hide the nervousness pricking at the back of your neck. “Can you just… be gentle? Like, a lot? Pretty please”.

“Of course, princess, you don’t even have to ask. We’re gonna take it nice and slow, yeah?” of course there was no doubt that Jungkook already planned on taking it easy with you, nevertheless the confirmation was much needed for you, helping your nerves ease even a tiny bit. 

The man sat back on his knees, taking off his pants and briefs in one go. Even though it wasn’t the first time you had seen him completely naked, you couldn’t help but stare at him mesmerised. He was just that good looking, his body built the same way the greeks carved their most beloved statues. Your mouth ran dry at the sight, and your hands itched to explore every inch of flesh. 

Jungkook leaned back down, caging your head between his arms. He stroked your cheek lovingly, kissing you softly before asking “Do you want me to put a condom on?”

You shook your head, whispering “I’m still on the pill, it’s fine. Wanna feel you raw”. Your boyfriend closed his eyes at the confession, your desire of feeling him bare both arousing and touching. “Okay,” his hand reached between your bodies, holding his member in a firm grasp as he ran his almost purplish tip over your folds, gathering your wetness. 

“Oh god,” you choked out, your walls clenching around nothing. Finally, Jungkook aligned his cock with your entrance, looking at your face one last time before slowly pushing it in, holding you closer to his chest as you gasped in discomfort. “Kook…ngh, wait…”

“I got you, princess,” he cooed, stopping his motion immediately. He stroked your hair, and he didn’t even wince when you bit his bicep to ignore the discomfort between your hips. “‘s alright, love. I promise it’s gonna feel nice really soon, hold tight for me”.

You nodded, taking a shaky breath in before your boyfriend pushed a couple more inches or so inside you, settling deep before he stilled his movements, waiting for you to give him permission to do anything. Despite the uncomfortable sensation, you couldn’t ignore how full you felt and how good it felt to have him nestled inside your walls completely bare, allowing you to feel even the littlest throb. Meanwhile, your angel of a boyfriend did everything in his hold to distract you, from kissing your lips to nibbling your earlobe, wanting you to feel good yet feeling guilty because he couldn’t do anything to let the pain subside faster.

“Mmh- Kook… I think you can move now,” you croaked out, catching Jungkook’s attention. The man whispered a soft “okay,” then locked your lips in a slow and passionate kiss as he began moving, pulling out almost entirely before pushing back in, over and over again. Soon, you whimpers of discomfort turned into moans of pleasure, and Jungkook followed you by example. Noises of skin slapping skin echoed in the bedroom, almost harmonising with your moans and grunts. 

“Princess… can I- fuck, can I go faster?” you nodded again, throwing your head against the pillows as Jungkook’s hips picked up their pace, almost snapping against your body. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, jaw hanging low while your boyfriend got drunk on the sight, hissing as he felt himself approaching his orgasm at light’s speed. His hand reached down, toying with your clit to bring you closer to your finish line. However, he almost lost it all when you let out a loud, almost pornographic, moan, your walls sucking him in greedily. 

His brows furrowed in concentration, determined to make you cum before he did. “C’mon, princess, give it to me,” he grunted, applying the right pressure to your clit to make you completely unravel under him, whimpering and shaking as your walls fluttered around his dick. “Fuck!” he exclaimed, pulling out just in time to spill his warm milky white cum on your tummy, decorating your skin in ropes of white. 

He laid beside you with a huff, scanning your body with his eyes to check that everything was alright. He took a strand of hair falling onto your eyes and lovingly pushed it behind your ear, smiling at you softly as you opened your eyes back. “Doing alright, love?”

You hummed, feeling too weak to mutter out anything. Your body still shook with the aftershocks of your orgasm, and you felt your sensitive sex still pulsing uncomfortably, but overall you felt great, and your mind wasn’t running miles per hour for once. 

Jungkook pulled you in closer, wrapping his arms around you, holding you tight. “C’mon, I’ll run us a bath. You’ve been so good, I love you so much, princess.”

© voitier 2025

⭒ a.n: first fic on here! let me know what you guys think, I'm so excited!