#been a while since she lost back to back okay

[christinaroseandrews]

Storytime!

In 2013 @lesliebwrites and I went to Paris. We did the tourist bit--went to the Catacombs, got lost in the Louvre, felt ready to behead some royalty at Versailles--you know--the typical tourish shtick.

Now, I have a cane and use it (mostly for stability because vertigo, arthritis, and hypermobility are the fall-risk trifecta I do not wish on anyone). Additionally, I have allergy and food intolerances which make eating an adventure in what is going to be digested and what isn't. So accordingly, I had my state-issued Handicapped parking placard and a note from my doctor explaining my need for accommodation. When I travel in the states, this is usually more than enough (ADA doesn't even require these steps but it does make things easier.)

At the time, most of the places we went to in Paris did not have disabled toilets and it was a crapshoot (literally) if there would be a working toilet at all. (Note: The worst toilet/bathroom I have ever been in was in Paris. And I have traveled the American Southwest, rural south, and the back ass end of nowhere Applachia, and I have seen many a gas station and truckstop bathroom. You know the scene were Alex from the Mummy Returns goes to the toilet on the train? Yeah, this was worse-- complete with shit smears on the walls.) So when Leslie and I got to the Pompidou, we were pleasantly surprised to see an actual clean/working bathroom complete with a disabled stall.

So we decided, as you do, to use the facilities before wandering around the huge modern art museum. Since there were only 2 stalls total including the disabled stall and there was a line about 10 people deep, people were using whichever stall opened up first. But not me. It was near the end of our trip and I was feeling fairly unsteady, so I opted to use the disabled stall even though the non-disabled stall opened up first. Now remember, I have my cane with me -- this will be important later.

As I'm using the bathroom, I hear a small ruckus in the sink area of the bathroom. But the people are speaking French and while I can parse out very basic written French (thank you Spanish), I can't really understand spoken French. Especially colloquial French. So I ignore it.

Then, there's a banging on the door of the stall.

Thinking that the person is checking to see if there's anyone in the stall, I say. "It's occupied..." or at least I hope I say that.

The person on the other end says something but I don't understand them.

Then there's another bang on the door. This one fairly metallic. Like metal on metal rather than flesh on metal.

Okay...

I'm still using the toilet, so I concentrate on trying to finish quickly.

The banging continues.

When I finish, I pull myself together. Make sure the toilet flushes fully. And open the door.

On the other side, there's a short woman about a decade or so older than me using a cane. The cane is held upright in her hands like she's about to club me over the head with it. She opens her mouth to say something, then looks down...

To my cane.

I swear underwent the full gamut of emotions in a second -- anger, chagrin, guilt, apologetic, embarrassed... The latter of which wasn't helped by the chuckles and murmurs coming from the other people who had watched this go down. Eventually she said something before darting into the stall.

I could see Leslie waiting for me by the sinks, an amused smirk on her lips. Because she was thinking the same thing I was: This woman had barged through the line to get to the disabled stall -- which okay sometimes you need to go -- but when she found the stall occupied, she started berating me and pounding at the door to try to get what she thought was an abled person out of the stall. The fact that someone else might be disabled never crossed her mind.

And to be honest, even if I hadn't had my cane that day I would have still been disabled and still needed to use the disabled stall because of the higher seat and the handrails.

You can't tell if someone is disabled or not. You just can't. You can't know, nor should people have to disclose, their disabilities. But my story and people's reactions of "it's okay to use it if no one else needs it..." shows that there's a disconnect and it can leave disabled people frustrated to the point where they can't comprehend that there are other disabled people...

So my answer is nuanced... check first. Don't use it just because you like bigger stalls. And in general, leave them open even if there's a line.

I was in a rest area along one of the interstates... I think it was in Pennsylvania but don't quote me on that... and again there was a line. And for the most part, people left the disabled stall open. If someone really needed to go, they asked the line. And people let parents with small children go first and they often used the disabled stall. As a disabled person, I didn't have an issue with it.

It's nuanced and situational dependent. But in the end, what we really need is for all stalls to be disabled friendly and for there to be more accessible and public bathrooms... period.

We ask your questions so you don’t have to! Submit your questions to have them posted anonymously as polls.

[dragonnarrative-writes]

Best In Show

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Naya "Bambi" Walker (OC)

Read on AO3

Word count: 4.8k

CW: BDSM, Sexual Content, kink negotiations, hucow kink, speech restriction, themed lingerie, lactation kink, breeding kink, dirty talk, so much dirty talk, pre-nut insanity (one of my favorite flavors of Simon), fantasies of dub-con (no actual dub-con), post-nut laughter

Notes: This was supposed to be a short addition to the Kinktober prompts, but obviously I am bad at keeping things short. Also, the working title for this was "Moo Moo Moo."

Simon is hiding something. Maybe that’s the wrong way to look at it. There’s something he’s not saying, not making obvious. It itches at the back of your mind.

It starts with looking at your own nude body in the mirror after a shower. You’ve been going to the gym, just a little bit. Weight training and cardio to keep up with all of the sex you’ve been having since moving in with Simon. You haven’t really lost any weight. In fact, your hips are wider, with no real change in the pouch of your belly.

Simon makes an interested noise when he walks into the bedroom. “Guess we should ‘old off on supper, eh?”

“No, no, I want to try that recipe I found,” you say, ignoring his discontented noise as you pull on underwear. The pleased noise he makes when you tug on his shirt is predictable, just like the kiss he presses to your cheek. “I was just… looking at myself. Kind of surprised that I’ve got more hip. Still got the belly, though.”

Simon surprises you by saying, “Tit’s’re bigger, too.”

“Are they?” You bunch the shirt in the back, and take yourself in. “Huh.”

“More pectoral muscle,” he says with a shrug. “More breast.”

“That’s not how that works,” you scoff, shoving him playfully before leaving the bedroom. “Besides, I heard your tis are the first to go when you lose weight.”

“Then I hope you don’t lose weight,” Simon answers, following you into the kitchen for a kiss. “I like all’o you.”

He spends extra time worshiping your thick parts, that night. Kisses you and kisses you and kisses you while rubbing your belly and groping at your hips, stroking and pinching at your breasts, your thighs, your love handles, your arm fat. He’s ravenous as he eats you out. The two of you are loud as he takes you apart. You fall asleep completely drained and covered in sore spots.

It doesn’t occur to you that you’ve been missing anything for a while after that. In fact, nothing seems off until he catches you masturbating a couple of months later. One moment, you’re alone at home, in bed, and the next he’s climbing in next to you with a groan and a sigh of relief.

“Whatcha wachin’?” he asks over your surprised yelp. “Tha’s not y’r usual boyfriend.”

“What do you know about my usual porn,” you laugh as you pass him your earbuds to place on the side table. You roll to kiss him as you admit, “It’s not really exciting, I was mostly done.”

“What counts as exciting?”

“I dunno,” you shrug, cuddling up. He smells so good. “You know my usuals, why don’t you tell me?”

Simon chuckles into your hair. “Big dicks ‘n ‘elplessness. Bonus points for dubious consent.”

“…Well… You’re not wrong.”

“I know what my girl likes.”

“Okay,” you giggle. “Well, what’s exciting for you?”

If you didn’t know him, you would have missed the split second pause before his answer. As it is you barely catch the way his hand twitches against the curve of your ass.

But he says, “You know what I like. A beautiful woman asking for what she wants.”

“And getting it until she cries,” you purr, rolling on top of him.

“Lies and slander,” he deadpans, grinding his hips up into yours. “I’d never enjoy seeing you with those pretty tears in your eyes, beggin’ me t’ keep goin’ and t’ stop at the same time.”

Of course, you both prove him wrong in short order. After, he holds you while you tremble, pressing kisses to the crown of your head. He laughs, just a little, when you can’t sit up enough to get your water on your own, but he also helps you, so that’s okay.

The next day, you realize that you actually don’t know what porn Simon finds exciting. He’s shared some with you, of course, on the nights where sex was too much work until it suddenly wasn’t. Every now and again, though, he would scroll past something with a dismissive noise. It wouldn’t be noteworthy, except… well, they’re all videos he’s saved in his favorites. So he likes them, but doesn’t necessarily want to share them with you. Which is fine. Heaven knows you’re deleting your porn history regularly. Whatever you look up when you’re ovulating is between you, Bowser, and God.

But the last straw for your curiosity comes when you borrow his phone to do some quick online shopping. A friend is having a themed pool party and wants everyone in shades of blue. You’ve been on a pink and purple kick, so you don’t actually have an appropriate bathing suit. So you pull up the search engine and look up bathing suits.

And there, in the search history: ‘Cow Print Bikini’.

Your research brain goes, “Jackpot.”

There’s no way to tell what, if anything, Simon looked at in the search results. But you’re good at knowing where to look. More importantly, you know your man. And after a full 24 hours of research, you have a pretty good idea of the shape of things.

  -

  “Hey Simon,” you call, a week later.

“In the den,” he answers.

“Can you… actually, I’ll be right there!”

When you get there, he’s playing one of his video games. He turns his head to kiss you, then curses under his breath when a pink slime eats the fruit he’d been trying to harvest. It’s such a sweet, domestic moment that you almost don’t want to interrupt.

“Do you have space for a kink discussion?” You settle onto the couch next to him, and pull your legs up under yourself. “Nothing bad. Just… maybe some negotiations. You can keep playing.”

He taps the controller against one of his palms, twice, then says, “Sure.”

You take a deep breath, then ask, “Have you ever heard of hucows?”

The pause menu comes up immediately, but Simon doesn’t look at you. In fact, he’s so still that you’re sure he’s stopped breathing. When he doesn’t say or do anything for a full ten seconds, you look up at him.

His face is blank, and he looks back at you from the corner of his eye.

“I’m going to take that as a yes,” you whisper.

He blinks, then shakes himself back into his skin. He looks back at the television, but doesn’t resume the game. “Why do you ask?”

“I’ve been doing some research,” you answer. “And I thought you might find it… interesting.” When he looks at you again without saying anything, you confess. “And there were cow print bikinis in your search history.”

All of the air leaves Simon in a whoosh. He leans back into the couch and scrubs a hand over his face. “’M sorry. I don’t… I wouldn’t ever… You know I love you. ‘N that I respect you. I’d never-”

“Woah, woah, wait!” You grab one of his hands in yours. “Hang on. You love me, I love you. I trust you. Do you trust me?”

Simon doesn’t answer for a long moment, and then he says, without taking his hand from his face, “I trust you to be ‘onest with me. Trust you’ll accept a no. Trust you’re not g’nna yell. Trust you not to punish me if you’re upset.”

“Acknowledged,” you breathe against his bicep. “I trust you to be honest with me, too. And I trust that it’s okay to tell you if I’m not comfortable with anything we discuss or do. I trust that you won’t yell at me. I trust that you’re not going to hurt or harm me on purpose to correct my behavior. Acknowledge.”

Simon sighs, again, then peeks through his fingers at you. “Acknowledged.”

“Okay,” you say, coaxing him to release some of the tension in his shoulders. “So. I did a little research. But I just want to know for sure what you think, what you find exciting.”

He’s pink when he asks, “Y’ve seen the videos?”

“No!”

That finally makes him look at you skeptically. “No?”

“I wasn’t snooping through your stuff,” you protest. “I literally searched for a bikini on your phone and it had the little history symbol next to it. I got curious.”

“Hell of a distance between a bathing suit an’ niche kinks.”

The hint of humor in his voice gives you the permission you were waiting for. You climb into his lap and throw your legs over one of his arms. He hugs you exactly the way you want, just as loving as ever.

“So then,” he eventually says. “What did you find?”

“So much bad porn, oh my god,” you answer. “Not that the actual hucow stuff itself is bad. It’s just that the non-paywalled stuff is steeped in so much spam. And what isn’t pure spam doesn’t really seem like your kind of thing. Just… lots of humiliation and degradation and misogyny kink. Stuff you’ve already said takes you out of the mood. And if that’s sometimes the mood, that’s fine, too. I know we don’t always masturbate to things we’re usually into-”

“It’s not that,” Simon interrupts.

You’re both quiet after. You realize that his heart is racing under your hand, and your heart is beating just as fast. But he keeps holding you, and you keep petting over the dip of his collarbones.

Your stomach churns. “I shouldn’t have said the porn was bad. I’m sorry.”

“It is bad,” Simon snorts. “’S part of why I never mentioned it. Some of that shit is nasty.”

“I like nasty.”

He hums and rubs a hand over your back. “I know, beautiful. But this feels… bad. Some ‘f it… ’S ‘ard to find the words. But I didn’t want you t’ think I see you that way, that I ever want to see you that way.”

“Porn isn’t real life,” you remind him. “Things that happen in a scene that everyone consented to-”

“Yeah, yeah.” He rolls his eyes as you glare up at him. “Let’s not pretend that kink has no basis in reality. Our dynamic is special to me, Naya. I don’t want to… disrespect it, or you, or us, with this.”

“Okay,” you whisper, tucking your face into his neck. You take one of his hands back into yours. “We don’t have to keep talking about it, if you don’t want to. But,” you can’t help but add with a smile. “I did get cow print lingerie. And a headband. It’s got little ears and horns.”

Simon groans. “No, you didn’t.”

“I did!” You press a kiss to his chin. “I’m glad I didn’t try to surprise you with it.”

“Would’a given me an ‘eart attack.”

“That would have been fun to explain. ‘Oh gee, Captain, I didn’t think he’d like it that much.’”

“Oi,” Simon growls.

He dips down to press his lips to yours. You don’t hesitate to wrap your arms around his shoulders and shift to straddle his lap. The kiss is sweet, a reassurance. Like aftercare. Maybe it is. Both of your bodies relax, until you can’t even hold yourself up to keep your lips on his. You lay your head on his shoulder with a content sigh.

You’re like that for a long time before Simon speaks again.

“Its the idea that her body… your body… could be nothing but pleasure and instinct. That I could pull pleasure from you until it would be pain not to.” He’s quiet for a moment, then continues when you don’t reply. “There’s something about it. But it’s a fantasy I never intended to bring to the bedroom. It’s… just something to think about, sometimes.”

  Simon presents the cow print bikini on a Thursday. At first, you’re confused. Then you’re amused, because a year ago you would have worked yourself into a tizzy trying to figure out what he was saying about your weight. But Simon loves your body, and you, and after months of avoiding talking about it, this is a huge step. So you stay silent, and look up at him expectantly.

“Would like to do a scene this weekend,” he says. “Acknowledge.”

“Acknowledged,” you answer, biting back a smile. “What are the parameters?”

Things seem downright vanilla for the first half. A whole day of pampering - spa, nails, hair - that means he’s been planning this for a while. Your favorite, just fancy enough food for dinner, and a dessert to go. All the usual rules apply: Simon’s in charge, you promise to be honest. All in all, a perfect date night.

And then he says something that boggles your mind.

“Okay, wait. I put on the cow print, and then I can only moo? After we get home?”

“No,” he surprises you by saying. He takes a deep breath, then continues. “I want you to wear it all day. An’ you’re only allowed to moo. Except durin’ your appointments. Please don’t moo at your stylists.”

“But at dinner…”

“I’ll order for you,” He says. His eyes flick away, then back to yours. “I’ll take care of everything.”

“But we won’t talk,” you press.

His ears go pink, but he cracks a smile as he says, “I’ll talk. And it’s not a rule that you have to be silent.”

He’s embarrassed, you realize. He’s finally acting on this thing you discussed so long ago, but he’s still nervous about what you’ll think. You have to stifle the part of you that wants to coo.

“Okay,” you say, taking his hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles. “Unless I’m using a safeword, I can just… make cow sounds. All day. Acknowledged.”

  The day of comes quickly. And then you’’e contemplating the lingerie you bought months ago. It’s much nicer than the flimsy thing Simon got, “just as ‘n experiment, no sense in wastin’ money ‘f things aren’t good as the fantasy.” The bikini he got you is… cheap. Your purchase will certainly fit under your clothes nicer.

As you pull on the silky material Simon apparently didn’t believe you actually ordered, you take a couple of deep breaths. You’re going to wear cow print for your partner. It’s not much different, you reason, from asking him to graze his knife over your skin while he watches TV. It’s not not his thing. And this isn’t exactly your thing. But you love each other. So you’ll do this thing, because his enjoyment can be yours.

Yeah.

  -

  By the end of dinner, you’re much deeper into a submissive headspace than you ever expected to be. You’re so aware of the urge to talk and the fact that you can’t. It’s a constant cue to look to Simon. More than once, you almost slip up. The words catch in your throat and you have to pivot to a lowing sound, a drawn out vowel that leaves you feeling helpless as he smiles and pets at your hand. You expect it to be maddening, but it’s not. Simon anticipates your needs so well that there’s nothing you need that he doesn’t already provide for you. All you can do is shiver at the way he gives you everything, touches you everywhere.

By the time you’re in the car home, you’re a mess. You can’t sit still, find yourself staring at the side of Simon’s face as he drives. You’re startled when he looks back at you at a red light. He reaches out and you lean in, then jump when he pinches your nipple just hard enough to make you gasp. He watches your face as he pets and plucks, chuckles as you pant and groan and moo.

When the light is green again, he stops. You’re very aware of your right breast.

At the next red, he says, “Give me the other one.”

You do.

“Sweet, pretty girl,” he praises as he tugs at you again. He hums, pleased, as you arch your back. His eyes are dark when he says, “Not wearin’ what I gave you. C’n se y’r nipples beggin’ for attention.

When you look down at yourself, heat flushes through you from your crown to your toes. He’s right, the thin bralette that you’d chosen does nothing to hide you body’s reaction to being teased. And the dress he’d picked for you was already tight around your chest…

The light turns green. You moan as he releases you and turns back to the road.

“What’re you wearin’?” He asks. When you look at him, he’s smirking. “Tell me. Wha’s my pretty girl got under her dress?”

You open your mouth, and your voice sticks. “…Moo?”

“Oh, tha’ sounds nice,” he chuckles. He takes your hand in his. “Lookin’ forward to seein’ it.”

Your thoughts and legs stumble into themselves when you finally walk through your front door. Simon doesn’t let you get far. He catches you around the neck with a big hand and brings you close for a kiss. As soon as the door is shut, his hands make their way to the back of your dress. He unzips and then guides the soft material down until it’s past your hips, and drops down to your feet.

When he pulls away to look at you, his breath catches, and his whole body goes still. You’re so caught in the way his pupils dilate that it takes you a moment to remember the bralette, the panties, the garter belt. The cow print feels like an exaggeration of itself, when you look down at your own breasts. You vaguely remember feeling silly, when you’d put them on, but you don’t remember why. Simon’s eyes are so hot when he looks at you, you can’t help but preen a bit.

“Thought you was jokin,” Simon murmurs, cupping one of your breasts in his hand. His other hand cradles your jaw and makes you look up at him when he pinches your nipple again. His thumb dips into your mouth when you gasp. “But my sweet girl don’t lie to me. An’ she’s always show ready, huh? My sweet, soft girl,” Simon murmurs, going to one knee. He takes one of your hands and kisses your knuckles before placing it on his shoulder. Then he gently lifts your calf to take one of your shoes, then the other as he says, “Not a worry in the world, an’ you still give me so much.”

Even kneeling at your feet, he takes your breath away. His hands smooth up your stockings until he can dip his fingers under the straps of your garters, then he groans. You groan with him. You never know what to do with yourself when he gets like this. Hungry. Reverent on his knees. With a sigh, you close your eyes. You don’t need to know what to do, because he does. The gravity of him makes you sway forward as he leans forward to kiss just above your belly button.

You must signal your mental shift, because Simon stands and lifts you into his arms in the same movement. He kisses your lips like he’s starving. And you try to meet him, try to put everything you haven’t been able to say into the drag of your lips against his.

I love you. Thank you. I love you, I love you, I love you.

You expect him to be rough with you, heavy handed. But Simon is gentle as he touches you all over. When he lays you on the bed, instead of diving into your chest, he keeps kissing your mouth, your neck, down to your shoulder. You can’t stifle a giggle as he sucks kisses into your bicep and down to your forearm.

“Fuck,” he growls. He takes a hold of your hips and gives you a little shake. “You’re so perfect. ‘Ips ‘n thighs ‘n this arse. So strong and still so soft for me.” He dips down to press a kiss to your hip, even as one of his hands starts pinching at your nipple through your bralette again. “Eatin’ good and’ workin’ out ‘n sleepin’ better. Gonna let me give you that life of leisure? No more workin’, pretty girl. Just whatever feels good, whatever makes you ‘appy an’ soft, whatever I c’n give you.”

You try to gasp something that might be “yes” or “please,” but it turns into another drawn out moan. It doesn’t really matter, because Simon flips you onto your hands and knees so fast that your head spins. You almost fall over, but he catches you.

“Sorry sweet girl,” he chuckles. “But you’ve got me so caught up. ‘M gonna take care of you, don’t worry. Just so pretty - distractin’ me.”

Then he’s kissing across your shoulders, then makes his way down to your hipbones. You moan and sigh as his hands grope at you. His hands squeeze at your breasts, then your belly, your thighs, back to your ass. When he bites you, you yelp and groan, arching away from his teeth and into the hands.

“Shh, pretty girl,” he hushes. “’M sorry, I’ll give you what you need. Easy, tha’s it.”

You’re surprised into a gasp by his fingers rubbing gently over your clit through your panties. His other hand eases your back down - from cat to cow, you giggle to yourself - with another shushing sound. The tension bleeds out of your spine at the sound. Simon’s got you, he’s going to take care of you.

“There you go,” Simon rumbles as you drop your head between your arms. He strokes a hand down your back as his other hand gives you just a hint more pressure. “Is that better? Feel nice an’ relaxed?”

You’re feeling less relaxed by the second. Simon knows how to touch you if he wants you to melt. This? Is not that. He’s giving you just enough to tease, to make you instinctively chase his fingers. You shake your head and whimper, shuffling your knees knees further apart and arching your back again. You don’t even try to swallow a grunt of frustration when nothing you do makes him speed up or give you more pleasure.

“Hm?” He presses his lips against your hip as he asks, “Wha’s wrong, pretty girl? You need something?”

You open your mouth to beg, then remember that you can’t say anything. This motherfucker. When you tilt your body to glare at him, his eyes are sparkling with mirth. It’s hard not to smile back, to hold your frown long enough to let him know that you know what he’s doing.

But as usual, he’s a step ahead of you. As soon as you open your mouth to moo sarcastically, he slips a finger under your panties and into you, just as his other hand shoves the bra out of the way to pinch your nipple.

“So wet,” Simon whispers against your cheek. “Took care of everything else today, but you still need more, don’t you? Greedy girl.”

You are wet, have been since before he plucked at your nipples in the car. Since dinner, when he’d explained the cut of his steak, why he liked it. Since he paused and visibly considered what he couldn’t see you wearing. Since he’d looked at you with so much hunger that you’d had to take a sip of your water to gather yourself. You couldn’t say anything, then, by his direction and your own body’s need. You couldn’t make any sound at all, had practically ground your teeth together so you wouldn’t moan like a whore at the table.

Your jaw isn’t clenched now. The sound you make as two thick fingers push in is exactly as obscene as you imagined it would be. They press into you exactly where you want it as his other hand sends sparks through your chest and down your spine. Simon echoes you, breath hot against your face. You can’t keep yourself from chasing his lips with yours.

“Yeah,” he pants between biting kisses. He growls when you rock back into his fingers, and pinches your nipple until you gasp. “Settle, Bambi, ‘m gonna take care o’ you.”

His words melt you. Even as he ratchets your body into more tension, you believe him, and the promise alone is nearly a relief. When he pulls his fingers free, you don’t even think to protest. All you can do is hang your head between your arms and try to catch your breath. Something like a sob scrapes it’s way from your throat when he pushes back in with three.

The sound of Simon undoing his belt makes you tip your hips back and up, automatic. He groans again, deep in his throat, and slaps the meat of your ass. The sharp sting of it reminds you to be almost embarrassed, and you drop to your elbows to bury your face in the bedding.

“There you go,” Simon grunts as he lines himself up. He pushes in slow, so slow, as you pant and writhe and make animal sounds. One of his huge hands comes down to grip the back of your neck as he grunts and shoves deeper. “There’s my sweet girl. Shouldn’t’a kept you waiting. You can take it now, tha’s it.” He leans down, pushing just that little bit deeper as he plucks at your nipple again. He growls against your shoulder, “Gonna do this every day, yeah? Quit your job so I c’n keep you soft like this all the time. Breed you up proper, bet y’re gonna taste so sweet when your milk comes, when it’s all y’ve got to do, just a life of milk ‘n honey.”

You almost can’t make out what he’s saying over the sound of your own noises and the wet sounds of him pushing in and out of you. The fireworks up and down your spine have you writhing back into his thrusts. You can tell he’s rambling, that he’s so lost in your bodies that he’s losing control of his mouth. A change in angle has you crying out again, every nerve on fire as he pushes into you just right. The orgasm that had been building steadily rushes over you. It’s impossible to stop, shakes through your limbs until you collapse onto your chest under him.

“Tha’s it,” Simon hisses, pace steady and devastating as he chases you down to the mattress. “This what you need? Need t’ be bred an’ fucked ‘til you can’t think of nothin’ else? Yeah, tha’s what you need. Gonna make you come on my cock again, fill you up the way you like. Then I’ll hook you up, huh? Can’t leave you wantin’ jus ‘cause I need a break. C’n put a pump at each o’ your tits an’ keep fuckin’ you with a machine, too, ‘til I’m ready to go again, yeah?

Jesus, you think, giggling under him. Your pussy flutters as he gasps something else you can’t quite make out over the rushing in your ears. He wants to ruin you. You want him to, to do all of these things he’s growling about. The thought that he might is thrilling and terrifying, that after he comes and breeds you full he could go to the closet and pull out the machine and the dildo you bought for when he’s deployed to keep fucking you…

Your stomach swoops as you get caught up in your own fantasy. He doesn’t have to stop. You’d be too weak to fight him. And if he tied you up, bound you where he wants to keep you, he could do whatever he wants. Did he actually have a pump, something to pull at your nipples while he watched across the room? Would this be the time he finally surprises you with something you hadn’t quite negotiated? He could, he could, you’d let him, you’d beg-

“Simon!”

The second orgasm hurts. It hits so fast and hard on the heels of the first. You can vaguely feel the wetness running down your thighs as you squirt, legs shaking. Above you, Simon goes abruptly silent as he comes, breath coming out in barely-there grunts as his cock kicks and twitches inside of you.

All of the air huffs out of your lungs as he partially collapses on you. Another giggle stutters out of you. It turns into a moan as he guides your legs down and open so he can grind into you some more until you’re prone. His own gentle chuckle tickles your ear.

“Fuckin’ ell,” he pants. The arm that’s braced to keep his weight off of you shakes a bit. “Gimme… fuck, gimme a minute. ‘Ll get up in a mo’.”

“Mmm,” you hum, kissing at his wrist. You tip your head back to grin up at him. “Moo.”

He crushes you a bit when his laughter makes him fall, but you can’t even pretend to be upset.

[sturniololuvz]

Omg Hii!! I love all your sturniolo little sister fics and k was wondering if you could do one where she is maybe 14 or 15 and she goes to get her wisdom teeth removed and shes really scared and they comfort her while she’s getting them out and after she’s done? Sorry that was a really long sentence 😂!

lmaoooooo yes

“Wisdom Teeth & Secrets”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : none

Y/N was freaking out.

She sat in the dentist’s office, gripping the armrests of the chair like she was about to be executed. Her heart was pounding, her palms were sweaty, and her brothers—Matt, Nick, and Chris—were standing around her, trying (and failing) to calm her down.

“Dude, it’s not that bad,” Nick said, sitting on the stool next to her.

Y/N shot him a glare. “Not that bad? They’re gonna rip my teeth out.”

Chris smirked. “Technically, they’re cutting them out.”

“CHRIS!” Matt smacked the back of his head.

“What? I’m just being factual.”

Y/N groaned, throwing her head back. “I wanna go home.”

Matt grabbed her hand. “You’re gonna be okay, bug. I promise.”

She exhaled shakily. “But what if—”

“Nope,” Chris cut her off, grabbing her other hand. “No ‘what ifs.’ You’re gonna go in there, let them do their thing, and when you wake up, we’re taking you to get ice cream.”

Nick nodded. “And you’ll probably say some dumb shit while you’re still drugged up, so honestly, it’ll be fun for us.”

Y/N groaned again. “I hate you all.”

Matt grinned. “Love you too, kid.”

Then the nurse walked in, smiling kindly. “Alright, Y/N, we’re ready for you.”

She froze.

Matt squeezed her hand. “You got this.”

Chris nudged her. “Be a champ.”

Nick smiled. “We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

Y/N exhaled, nodded hesitantly, and followed the nurse.

When she woke up, she was high as hell.

The first thing she saw was Matt sitting next to her, and she immediately burst into tears.

“Mattyyyy,” she slurred, grabbing his face.

Matt blinked. “Oh, God.”

Nick and Chris walked in at that exact moment, and Y/N immediately reached for Chris.

“CHWISSY!”

Chris cackled. “Oh, she’s gone.”

Nick pulled out his phone, already recording.

“Do you feel okay?” Matt asked gently, brushing her hair back.

Y/N sniffled dramatically. “I love you soooo much.”

Chris snorted. “Dude, we know.”

She turned to Nick, her face dead serious. “You’re my favorite.”

Chris gasped. “EXCUSE ME?”

Matt raised a brow. “Since when?”

Y/N just giggled, leaning into Nick. “He’s so cute.”

Nick lost it. “What?”

Chris looked offended. “You think Nick is cute? I’M cute.”

Y/N waved him off. “Shhh, you’re annoying.”

Matt smirked. “She’s finally being honest.”

Chris gasped again. “Bro, I’ve been carrying you all day, and this is the thanks I get?”

Then Y/N giggled. “I have a secret.”

Nick’s eyes widened. “Oh, let’s hear it.”

Matt warned, “Dude, don’t take advantage of her being drugged up.”

Chris ignored him. “Nah, spill.”

Y/N grinned, looking mischievous. “I stole your hoodie last week.”

Chris gasped for the third time. “I KNEW IT!”

Nick laughed. “Oh, she’s wild.”

Y/N pointed at Matt. “You have a crush on that girl from the grocery store.”

Matt’s face turned red. “What?”

Chris and Nick turned to him immediately. “Wait, WHO?”

Matt groaned. “Y/N, shut up.”

She giggled. “I saw you looking at her.”

Chris laughed so hard he had to sit down. “THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER.”

Nick wiped a fake tear. “I’m so proud.”

Y/N yawned, leaning into Matt’s chest. “I wanna go home.”

Matt sighed, rubbing her back. “Yeah, okay, let’s get you out of here.”

Chris smirked. “I’m posting all of this.”

Nick grinned. “Oh, for sure.”

Y/N mumbled, “I hate you guys.”

Matt kissed the top of her head. “Love you too, bug.”

[meep-moops-stuff]

Safe and Sound - Sidney Crosby x Reader

Y/n gripped the steering wheel tightly as she drove back to her apartment, her vision blurred with tears. The pit in her stomach hadn’t gone away since lunch.

A group of guys in her grad school classes—had been staring at her again. Their lingering eyes, the smirks, the way they whispered to each other as she passed by. It made her skin crawl.

She hated how it made her feel. Small. Exposed. Dirty.

Her phone rang through her car’s Bluetooth, and she nearly jumped. Sidney.

She sniffled and wiped at her cheeks before answering. “Hey, Sid.”

The second he heard her voice, he knew. His voice softened instantly. “Y/n, what’s wrong?”

She let out a shaky breath. “Nothing, I’m fine.”

Sidney didn’t believe that for a second. “Y/n,” he murmured, his voice full of concern. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”

She bit her lip, her fingers tightening on the wheel. “It was just—in class, some guys… they were looking at me. Like—like I was—” She couldn’t even finish the sentence.

Sidney went silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was low, controlled—but furious. “They made you uncomfortable.”

She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Yeah.”

Sidney inhaled deeply, trying to keep his anger in check. The last thing she needed right now was for him to lose it. “Okay, baby girl,” he said gently. “Listen to me. After practice, I’m coming to get you. You’re staying with me tonight.”

Y/n’s breath hitched. “Sid, you don’t have to—”

“I want to.”

She felt the guilt creeping in, her anxiety spiking. “I’m being too much, I always need something, I—”

“Stop.” His voice was firm but still gentle. “You are not too much. You are never too much for me.”

Her lip trembled. “But—”

“No buts, baby girl,” he cut her off. “Here’s what you’re gonna do, okay? You’re gonna go inside, take a nice hot shower, and pack a bag. I’ll be there soon.”

She swallowed, her tears still slipping down her face. “Okay.”

“That’s my good girl,” Sidney murmured. “I’ll see you soon, sweetheart.”

They hung up, and as soon as Sidney put his phone down, his entire demeanor shifted. His jaw clenched, his fingers curling into fists. Without thinking, he grabbed his phone again and slammed it into his locker with a loud bang.

The room went silent.

Kris Letang, who had been nearby, raised an eyebrow. “Jesus, Sid. What the hell was that?”

Sidney ran a hand through his hair, breathing heavily. “Y/n,” he muttered, his voice tense.

Kris’s expression darkened. “What happened?”

Sidney clenched his jaw, his hands still balled into fists. “Some guys in her classes were looking at her. Making her uncomfortable.”

Kris exhaled sharply, “you going to be with her now?”

Sidney started to grab his keys and jacket, “yeah why? Should I not?”

Kris sighed and pointed to the door, and Sidney remembered he agreed to do a media interview.

He sighed, dropping his hands to his side and closing his eyes.

“I’m canceling. I’m going to see her.”

Kris whistled lowly while crossing his arms and leaning back in his locker stall.

“You’re one brave man doing this.” He added.

Sidney shot him a look before opening the door and walking past the reporters, all throwing questions out at him.

He made it out to the hallway, the voices echoing the more he walked further down the hall.

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

Y/n let the hot water run over her as she stood in the shower, her arms wrapped around herself. The apartment was silent, but her mind was anything but.

She kept replaying the way they had looked at her, the way their eyes lingered, the low murmurs she couldn’t quite hear but knew weren’t anything good.

Her stomach twisted, and she squeezed her eyes shut, trying to shake the feeling.

After she finished, she dried off, slipping into a pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie before grabbing her overnight bag.

She moved on autopilot, folding clothes neatly, tucking in her essentials. The quiet made everything feel heavier, but before she could get lost in her head again—

Knock, knock.

She froze. Then—

“Baby girl, it’s me.”

The tension in her chest eased just a little. She rushed to the door, unlocking it quickly. The moment she pulled it open, Sidney was there. And without hesitation, he pulled her into his arms.

Y/n exhaled sharply against his chest, her fingers curling into his jacket as he held her tightly. Sidney could feel the way she trembled, and it made his stomach ache.

“I’ve got you, sweetheart,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “I’m right here.”

She nodded against him, eyes shut tightly. He didn’t let go—not until she loosened her grip first. When she finally stepped back, he glanced down at the bag by her feet.

She bent down to grab it, but Sidney beat her to it, effortlessly slinging it over his shoulder.

“Sid, I can carry it—”

“I know,” he said, giving her a soft look. “But I’ve got it.”

She sighed, but there was no point in arguing.

The drive to his mansion was quiet. Y/n stared out the window, her fingers fidgeting in her lap. Sidney kept sneaking glances at her, his grip on the steering wheel tightening. He hated seeing her like this—anxious, quiet, scared.

When they finally arrived, he helped her inside, placing her bag in the foyer before leading her toward the kitchen. Without a word, she hopped onto the counter, curling her legs up as she watched him move.

Sidney filled the kettle, moving with the same quiet care he always did when she wasn’t feeling her best. It wasn’t long before he placed a warm mug of tea next to her.

But instead of stepping away, he moved between her legs, his hands resting on her thighs.

Y/n sniffled, looking down at her tea. “Thank you, Sid.”

Sidney tipped her chin up gently, his eyes searching hers. “You don’t have to thank me, baby girl.”

She swallowed, her fingers curling around the mug. “I hate feeling like this.”

His brows furrowed. “Like what?”

She hesitated before whispering, “Like I can still feel them staring.”

Sidney’s jaw clenched, his hands squeezing her thighs protectively. “You’re safe now, sweetheart.”

She nodded, but he could tell the unease hadn’t fully left her.

So he leaned in, pressing a lingering kiss to her forehead. “I know you’re uncomfortable and scared, but I’m here now”

Y/n closed her eyes, letting herself sink into his warmth.

“I’m not used to this. To having someone like you help me when I’m scared or upset. I’ve always done it on my own” she confessed.

Sidney closed his eyes, bringing her head to his shoulder as he cradled the back of her head.

“I know baby girl,” he whispered. “But let me take care of them, ok? What are their names?”

Y/n’s head shot up, staring at him with wide eyes.

She chuckled and shakes her head, “no nope no. I’m not giving you their names. I can handle it myself.”

Sidney chuckled, letting go of her thighs and crossing his arms over his chest.

“Oh you can?” He asked, his eyebrows raising.

Y/n sat up straighter, matching his posture with her arms.

“Yeah I can. I can even take them on physically”

Sidney threw his head back laughing, uncrossing his arms and wrapping them around her.

“You’re lucky you’re cute” he murmured against her temple as he pressed a kiss to it.

And for the first time all day, she finally felt like she could breathe.

[son-justdont]

okay so here's the update regarding my mom's opinions on catws

she fuckin gets it, dude

i talked about how despite everything hydra does to make him look intimidating, you can see that he's very neutral, sometimes even scared. i showed her this gif:

and she said "it's like he's lost"

we talked about how he's extremely calculating and doesn't react emotionally even in high stress or when he's being bested, like when Natasha fucked up his arm, or even during the face reveal. and she said "because they didn't understand the science of it... the serum enhances everything about the person, and he wasn't bad. that's why they had to work so hard and wipe him so much, because he wouldn't ever actually want to do those things." i couldn't help but smile while she was saying this lmao

she also said: "to me, Steve always seemed... independent. it's almost like Bucky relied on him more than the other way around" which is the most stucky thing she could've ever said. she's so fucking right

she was like "wait, so he pulled him out of the water... and then he just walked away?? so now he's just wandering around... and the longer he stays unfrozen, the more he's going to remember everything"

we can't quite yet watch civil war but we are very excited for it lol

oh, and she loved nick fury and she didn't even know who the fuck he was. i forgot to explain beforehand but she understood pretty quick. and then she was very upset when he "died" as well LOL she said "THEY NEED TO STOP DOING THAT." she hated rumlow immediately as well and i was like yeah that's the correct opinion

now i wanna respond to some of the comments under the cut cuz ive been having such a good time lmao

@bucky-boychik-barnes @impetusofadream HERE U GO (one of them is from a different post where i talked about the same thing lmao)

@ilovemosss i read this post out to my mom including the replies and when i read this one she went "YOU ARE!!!!!!!!!"

@sentowritesstuff @stuckydrewx @partofthefandom @musette22 @rillils @skullfragments

she really thought all these responses were so funny and sweet! i however will not be introducing her to ao3 lmfao. she's no prude but she's pretty shy. i'll have to just relay ideas i find myself, i think. if anyone has any non-M rated recs you think she might like based on what she's said, feel free to send them my way haha

honestly she'd probably enjoy herself but i am probably only be showing her Cap and Bucky related stuff LSKDJF we didn't even watch avengers and i sure as hell am not showing her AoU. i'm basically explaining the relevant information as to what went on in between movies. i was like "natasha is an ex russian spy that was groomed to be as a child. that's basically all you need to know" like i didn't even explain nick fury and she was SO UPSET WHEN HE DIED LMAO

and, i gotta spill the beans, but i haven't seen a marvel movie since the first black panther. yeah that includes IF and EG. i know what happens but my interest in marvel PLUMMETED back then and i never caught up. honestly i'm only back into this stuff because i rewatched jessica jones and then wanted to go through the whole MCU from the beginning, saw CA:TFA, went "oh yeah this was all that i liked," and went all in for them.

i have watched TFatWS and i loved it (it seems like the fandom doesn't though LOL) for what it was, so i'll probably show her that. she is gonna be so so so so so upset regarding steve's choice, just like the rest of us. and i'm not looking forward to it lol. but i'll update when that happens too

i'll have to make a post civil war mom thoughts once that happens haha

[queerocfandomer]

ExWidow Russian Girlfriend Problems?

One-Shot - 1775 Words Natasha/GNreader - Yelena/Kate Fluff inspired by the classic -’do you like me=we are married’- incorrect quotes

It was a quiet night at the complex, a rare moment when almost everyone had left to be with their families for the long weekend. It was Natasha's turn to hold down the fort, which, of course, meant that you both remained behind. Across the room, she was immersed in a game of pool with Yelena, her laughter and competitive spirit lighting up the space, while you lounged on the couch, lost in the details of the most recent mission reports. Meanwhile, Kate and America had finally abandoned their barstools after what felt like endless attempts to perfect their knife and glass balancing trick. You were thankful, really—the persistent clatter of knives hitting the table had started to wear on your nerves.

“Goodnight, everyone!” America called out, waving as she made her way to the elevator. You all paused to acknowledge her departure, and before diving back into your tablet, you glanced at Natasha. She caught your gaze, then winked and blew you a playful kiss. With a small smile, you mimed catching it and tucking it away in your pocket. 

“Wow, that might be the cheesiest thing I've ever seen,” Kate exclaimed as she claimed a spot on the couch beside you.

“If it is, you really need to watch more movies,” you quipped, before diving back into your work. As Kate got comfortable, you noticed her eyes fixed intently on the pool match unfolding across the room. After a few moments, you set the tablet aside and turned your gaze to her.

“What’s on your mind, Bishop?”

“Oh, me? Uh, yeah, nothing, just, you know, chillin’.”

“Look, I know we haven't known each other long, but I’d like to remind you I’m not THAT much older than you,” you said playfully, smirking. “We can still be friends, even if I have to be a little bossy during training and all that.”

“Right, yeah. It’s just that I’m still getting used to being on a team with the people I used to admire on TV,” she admitted, a sheepish look crossing her face.

“Trust me; we have the same everyday problems that anyone else does. So if you’ve got something on your mind, feel free to share—like maybe now, since you’re obviously dwelling on something.”

“Okay, okay,” she sighed, swirling the last of her drink in contemplation. “I was just thinking… you two have been together for, like, a long while, right?”

“I think most people would say so, yes,” you chuckled, adjusting your position to face her more fully. “So, it’s an Ex-Widow Russian Girlfriend kinda dilemma?”

“What? No! I mean, Yelena isn’t my… ah, we aren’t… is it that obvious?”

You couldn't suppress a laugh, shaking your head. “If I had to use one word, Kate, it would be—painfully.” You watched as the blush in her face began to dim. “I know things were a bit rocky at the start, but honestly, we’ve just been waiting for you to tell us for a couple months now.”

“Oh,” she paused, taking a sip of her drink, her gaze fixated on Yelena before returning to you. She shifted closer on the couch, her voice dropping to a softer beat. “Okay, so it’s like… ugh, yes, we’re dating, right? But are we? I asked her, and she said yes, so we did that, but then we kept hanging out, and it feels like dates, but we don’t actually say it, and she’s, like, really closed off but also super flirty, depending on who’s around. I just don’t know if it’s real or just… ugh, I don’t even know!”

“Mmmm, well that sounds about right. Look, I’ve only known Yelena for a couple of years longer than you, and that’s just her vibe. But I get what you’re saying. I don’t know much about your childhood, Kate, but I think we can both agree that theirs is a whole other story, and obviously, all that comes with a lot of trauma. None of us here are free of that burden, but for them, it runs deeper. Generally speaking, that history means they aren’t used to being loved or allowing those feelings, so it can take time to break through. And our line of work doesn’t help. We are painfully aware every day of how caring for someone can lead to hurt—for both you and them. So, gradually breaking down your walls to embrace love? It’s a heck of a challenge. It took me ages to figure out how to navigate my own way through.”

Kate nodded, her understanding evident in the glint of her eyes as she absorbed your words.

“You know, it still feels so bizarre to have people seeking my dating advice. I never saw myself as that person,” you admitted.

“But you two are just so perfect together; you mesh like seamlessly,” she observed, a hint of envy lacing her tone.

“That’s sweet, but it didn’t always look like this, you know. Just like everyone else, we have our struggles. We knew each other for years before we finally got our act together. We’re certainly not perfect; we’ve had our share of ups and downs, disagreements, mess-ups, and fights. But we chose to work through them. I do get that they come off as intimidating—not sure if it’s a Russian, assassin, or spy thing, but yeah, they can be a little abrasive at times, I won’t deny that.”

You both shared a warm smile, a mutual understanding passing between you.

“Sometimes, the people who seem the most indifferent are actually the ones who care the most. It’s just their wall protecting them because they’re unsure if it’s safe to open up and allow themselves to care. Each person has their own way of navigating that. But there’s one thing I can definitely tell you specifically about those two,” you added, eyebrows raised in intrigue.

“I’ll take any insight I can get,” she said quietly, leaning in.

“They don't put on an act when they don’t have to. Unless it’s for a mission, they aren't the type to hang around to fulfill social expectations. Yelena wouldn’t spend time with you if she didn’t genuinely want to, trust me. She wouldn’t bother to invest the effort if she didn’t care.”

“I just wish she would talk to me more,” Kate lamented, her voice tinged with frustration. “Like, just tell me that.”

“Yeah, that can definitely take time, but they’re pretty direct when it matters. If you haven’t noticed, those two are not shy about telling it like it is. So… you could always just ask her.”

A loud burst of energy erupted from the pool table, and you turned to see Natasha reveling in her victory while Yelena sulked in defeat. You stood, turning back to Kate before heading over.

“Maybe you should start by just telling her how you feel and that you just want to know how she does,” you suggested nonchalantly. “Sometimes you just have to embrace the cheese.” She nodded, a shy smile crossing her lips as she joined you in moving toward the pool table.

“Hey, Natasha, quick question for you,” you called out, approaching the duo. She turned, an eyebrow cocked in curiosity. “I was just wondering—do you like me?” you asked, a teasing grin spreading on your face.

“I asked you to marry me,” she replied, rolling her eyes, a smirk playing on her lips.

“Yeah, but was that like a friend thing or a love thing?”

“You’re ridiculous,” she replied, laughter bubbling beneath her teasing tone as she shook her head.

Stepping closer into her space, you wrapped an arm around her waist, bringing your face an inch from hers. “And you secretly love it.”

“Not so secret,” she murmured, lips brushing against yours before you both melted into a gentle kiss, her arms wrapping around your neck while yours slid up her back, leaning into each other for a moment until Yelena’s voice broke through.

“Ugh, get a room!” she groaned.

You both smiled into the kiss and then pulled away just enough to meet her gaze. “But it’s so much more fun to annoy you,” you quipped.

You heard Kate let out a laugh from behind you as Yelena dramatically rolled her eyes.

Natasha slid her arms down to turn around, her back resting against your front. She laid her head onto your shoulder, planting a soft kiss on your cheek. “That’s a really good idea though,” she noted, her eyes glimmering with a mix of mischief and affection.

“So it is,” you replied, playfully giving her a gentle nudge toward the hallway. You locked hands, and Natasha quickly hip-checked Yelena as you walked by.

“You two are so gross,” Yelena complained, covering her face with her hand in mock disgust.

“Just fulfilling your request, sestra,” Natasha shot back with a wink as you reached the elevator hallway, waving goodbye. “Goodnight, ladies!”

As you waited momentarily in front of the elevator, you tuned in, listening intently. For the average person, voices would have to be raised to be heard from here, but your enhanced abilities allowed you to pick up their words with clarity.

“You have to admit, they’re pretty cute.”

“That’s my sister, Kate.”

“Yeah, but they’re usually so serious and business-like, you know? It’s refreshing to see them happy and just like real—kinda proof that you can juggle both lives.”

Good luck, kid, you thought, as the elevator door opens, 

“They talking about us?”

“Oh yeah… Kate thinks we are cute and thus Yelena is a little miffed”

“Well that sounds about right”

You enter the elevator and lean against the wall, Natasha beside you, hands still entwined. 

“Please tell me your sister knows how absolutely head over combat boots that woman is for her?”

“I wish I could say yes, but I feel like she may still be mostly oblivious. I still can’t get her to really admit her own feelings—stubborn as a mule.” 

“Well, I guess that shouldn’t surprise me… It runs in the family after all.”

“I was the one who kissed you first, remember?”

“Oh, I do.” As the elevator doors slid open, you stepped away, your hand slipping out of hers as you walked backward, your grin playful. “But kissing isn’t quite the same as feelings,” you teased, turning to walk down the hallway.

“I’m pretty sure I can make you feel some things with my kisses,” she chimed from behind you.

She quickly caught up, wrapping her arms around your waist and placing tender kisses along your neck as you opened the door. With a gentle shove, she pushed you inside, laughter following as the door clicked shut behind you.

My works Now on A03! https://archiveofourown.org/works/63244339

[thcmpscns]

He couldn’t blame anyone for being curious, especially over something that so obviously stuck out. But Dayn had been so content just laying here, with his only focus on Charlie. There had been few times in his life where he was ever alright with that, where he wasn’t carefully showing someone the door (and making it feel like it was their idea in the process) to get his alone time back, to treat it as if it was some shoddy transaction where the exchange was simply time and pleasure. He couldn’t do that here, though. And he couldn’t come back from it - the memory had pulled him too deeply, too quickly, and while it was over in no time at all, Charlie was smart. Of course she noticed.

Dayn was usually a pretty adept liar, and it usually wasn’t very difficult to sway another a different direction when they were this close together - a masterful sleight of hand trick of not lying, necessarily, but a hell of a misdirection. And in a crazy sort of way, Charlie seemed to be helping him right along, with the way she slung herself back over his hips. Alright, maybe he wouldn’t have to play pretend in order to steer the conversation elsewhere. His hands found the fleshy backs of her thighs, inching upwards–

A change, again. From cheeky grin to apprehension, to curiosity and then to nerves. Is that what this feeling was? Though she was hovering over him and Dayn found it difficult to concentrate a bit, at the sight. Mere seconds ago he was ready to go round… something. He’d lost track. But no matter how much he’d wished it was something else, he caught on quickly to what she was trying to do. For her sake, he tried hard not to scoff and roll his eyes, but there was surely and undercurrent of it in there. Not aimed at her story, her words, but at any attempt to get him to open up about why his skin felt the way it did, tight and rigid in placed that should have been soft and smooth. Couldn’t she just leave it be? She wasn’t going to like the reason, he knew it. Even if… even if she said otherwise. Even if her words, which suddenly made sense were they were coming from her, coaxed around the icy shell of protection he had gathered throughout his life, over memories he didn’t want to access himself, let alone voice aloud. It was melting away.

She kissed him on the shoulder, barely felt, and he swallowed. This was more nervous than he could remember being since maybe the hearing, and before that, it was even more of a mystery. A scar is what gets left when you were stronger than the hurt. The words bounced around, his mind an echochamber. Didn’t she realize how strong he would have had to be, for this to be the result? His lips parted, ready to cut her off, to blurt out at least the start of it, an abridged version, maybe without getting into the full history– then she pulled back. She was staring down at him, at his chest, at his shoulders. And those parts of skin were the least marred by comparison - how would she look if he turned over? “What?” he challenged, a frown deepening his features. Suddenly he couldn’t look at her, the expression of horror on her face that flipped on the dime. What the hell did she see on him? Were they that bad?

Bad enough that she scrambled off of him, the blankets tangling around her feet before she grabbed everything she needed, Dayn making no effort to help. This is why he never fucking said anything. His ears felt hot and the personal betrayal he felt then was masked with an anger, one that despite it all, he did his best to soften as he watched her gather up her belongings. Was this some dirty karma, is this how others felt after spending a night with him, to see him gone, like a ghost, in the morning? “Yeah okay, Charlie,” he scoffed, throwing covers off of him and grabbing at his jeans, to hastily pull over his legs. “Message received. Thanks.”

A change came over Dayn, sudden and barely perceptible. At least, it would have been missed if Charlie hadn’t spent the last few hours getting intimately familiar with the subtle physical changes of Dayn’s body, the tensing in pleasure, the sigh of relief, the balance of careful touch. One second he was there and the next something crossed his eyes and he was gone. She waited in his embrace, for that slow blink of return, when the light came back into his eyes. Her question had been loaded, that much she could tell but Charlie kept her finger there anyway, like the contact would answer it for the both of them. 

He dismissed her with humour and Charlie noted that she was starting to recognize a pattern, the armour of his good nature and light hearted digs, earlier when she had been nervous and now when he was nervous. He dissipated nerves with jokes. And Charlie had never wanted to make him feel like this. If she thought about it now she could recall the way that his back felt under her hands, taut muscles and unnatural grooves, had been too caught up in the throes of pleasure to acknowledge it at the time. She was too terrified of breaking this bubble to acknowledge it now. 

He would be easier to pin down if she could actually pin him down. She flattened her hand against his chest, used it to push herself up and then rotated her hips so that one of her legs flung over and she was effectively straddling him. The blanket that had been covering them bunched up at their joined waists and Charlie blew a loose strand of hair out of her face. She looked at him then, tried to ignore the urge to start something physical, intimately naked in this position, every bruise and scar on her body visible. Underneath the cream skin of her thigh she could see the jagged scar on his skin that she had been touching, angry against the softness of her skin. A breath, and she lifted her elbow to show him a tiny white scar on the end. 

“This was my first scar ever,” she started, voice hoarse. She cleared her throat and pressed on, dropping her arms back at her side.. “I was… six? I think? I was running down a gravel road with my shoelaces untied and biffed it. I had to get four stitches at the hospital. My dad told me it would probably leave a mark and I cried more at that than the pain, but then he said, ‘a scar is what gets left when you were stronger than hurt’.” She looked at him, eyes sad of her own hurt, and then bent down to press the ghost of a kiss to a scar nearer the top of his chest. 

“You don’t have to tell me anything, but none of it makes me think of you any less. If anything it just…” she trailed off then, the sudden stench of decay so strong in her nose. She looked up towards Dayn’s face through her eyelashes. What she saw caused her to sit back up abruptly and nearly lose her balance. Next to Dayn, Conor. Contorted over him in such an inhuman position, face next to his, looking at Charlie. Ashen grey against Dayn’s rosy skin. A warped smile, blackened bloody teeth. From over Dayn��s shoulders Conor ran his rotting hands over and down his chest, over his scars like Charlie had just done. A threat. 

Charlie scrambled to get off Dayn then. “Sorry, I need to…” she fought to keep the panic out of her voice as she started to gather up pieces of clothing in her arms: Her pants. Dayn’s shirt. Her jacket. Dayn’s socks. I need to get out of here. 

[captainmartin20]

you did good today, baby

[fantasticgothicpeachsludge]

There’s no way Jayce came out of the fucking Infection Dimension perfectly healthy except for his leg (and his mental health)

He had an open wound on his back before he even went in!! and then the one we saw on his leg! (which was broken in fucking half!!) like did y’all see how thick the fog was?? He was breathing that shit in for months!! That man was probably dying!!!

[bongsavior]

HOWEVER !!!!!!!!!!

[dbphantom]

maybe i should have gone into practical effects instead of computer science...

[pepprs]

[sturniololuvz]

can you do an angst fic where one of the boys were play fighting with sister reader who’s 14-16 and he accidentally actually hurts her. she gets upset and scared of him and refuses to talk to him for a week and only talks to the other boys

yepppoo

“I Didn’t Mean To”

Sturniolos x sister

Warnings : hurt. ignoring

Chris never meant to hurt her.

It was supposed to be fun. Play fighting like they always did, throwing harmless jabs, pushing each other around, laughing until one of them gave up. It was something they had been doing since Y/N was little.

But this time… it went wrong.

They were in the living room, messing around while Matt and Nick were in the kitchen. Y/N had shoved Chris first, laughing when he stumbled back.

“Oh, you think you’re strong?” he teased, pushing her back playfully.

Y/N grinned. “Stronger than you.”

Chris scoffed. “Oh, bet?”

And then, in the heat of the moment, he swung his arm out—playfully, not thinking—and shoved her a little harder than he meant to.

Too hard.

She lost her footing.

She stumbled back, her socked feet slipping against the hardwood floor—

And then she hit the coffee table. Hard.

The sound of her body colliding with it made Chris’s heart drop instantly. The laughter died.

“Y/N?” he breathed, already moving toward her.

She was on the floor, clutching her arm where it had slammed into the edge of the table, her face twisted in pain.

Chris froze. His stomach twisted painfully. Oh, shit.

“Yo, I’m so sorry—” He reached for her, but she flinched back instinctively.

And that’s when it hit him.

The fear in her eyes.

The way she pulled away from him like he had actually meant to hurt her.

Chris felt like he couldn’t breathe.

Matt and Nick ran in at the sound of the crash. “What happened?” Nick asked, eyes darting between them.

Chris swallowed hard, panic settling in. “I—I didn’t mean to, I swear, we were just messing around and—”

Y/N stood up quickly, still clutching her arm, her jaw tight. “I’m fine,” she muttered.

But she didn’t look at Chris.

Not once.

Instead, she turned to Matt. “Can you take me to my room?”

Chris opened his mouth. “Y/N—”

She didn’t even acknowledge him.

Nick glanced between them, his face serious. “Y/N…”

But she was already walking off, with Matt. Not even looking back.

Chris felt like his heart had been ripped out of his chest.

The next week was hell.

Y/N wouldn’t talk to him. Wouldn’t look at him.

She’d joke around with Matt. She’d talk to Nick like nothing was wrong. But the second Chris entered the room? Silence.

It destroyed him.

He tried everything.

“Y/N, can we talk?”

Ignored.

“I swear, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Silence.

“Please, don’t be scared of me.”

Nothing.

Chris hated himself for it. Hated that one stupid mistake had changed things between them.

“She’s not actually scared of you,” Matt reassured him one night. “She’s just mad.”

Chris shook his head. “Did you see how she flinched? I’ve never made her do that before.”

Nick sighed. “You just gotta give her time, man.”

Chris nodded, but deep down, he wondered if things would ever go back to how they were.

It wasn’t until a week later that Y/N finally snapped.

Chris was sitting in the living room, head in his hands, when she walked in.

“Why do you keep acting like I’m never gonna talk to you again?”

Chris’s head shot up, eyes wide. “Because you haven’t talked to me.”

Y/N crossed her arms. “Because you hurt me, Chris.”

Chris felt his stomach twist. “I know,” he said quietly. “And I hate myself for it.”

Y/N sighed, her expression softening slightly. “I know you didn’t mean to. But it just… freaked me out, okay? You’ve never actually hurt me before.”

Chris swallowed. “I’d never—” His voice cracked. He cleared his throat. “I’d never do that to you on purpose, Y/N. Ever.”

She was silent for a moment before she finally sighed. “I know.”

Chris hesitated, then opened his arms slightly. “Are we okay?”

Y/N hesitated too—then stepped forward, wrapping her arms around him.

Chris exhaled, hugging her tightly. “I’m really sorry, bug.”

Y/N nodded against his shoulder. “Just don’t do it again, dumbass.”

Chris let out a breathless laugh. “Deal.”

[thebuttsmcgee]

so. um. 👉👈

hi guysies.

Ig I should just say like. Hi

I haven't been posting here as much cause. Idk. Might be depression? I keep thinking its cause I've been so busy, which also wouldn't be not untrue, but these past, like, 3 weeks I think so far? I've had some free time but I haven't cause. I dunno, then again, I haven't been doing too much in general? I gues, besides very mandatory things, hell I've even been lacking in my regular skyrim hours of playing.

That, and as said, I get super melancholic when I remember just how sad and bittersweet it is that t0h is. Actually legit over. The show and experience, that is.

Oh all that and also becuz my headphones broke! Fuck! That's like number 2 in my bare necessities for when I post, do almost anything really! It's seriously been painful this past month going without headphones holy shit. Dude I've been scratching at the bit for some relief for headphones, I NEED music legitimately. Even right now, as I'm typing this on my phone, my music is on low levels.

But yerp. Its been. Rough. Really rough. I really do appreciate yall, everyone of yall. Have a sweet week everyone, ✌️!

[writingouthere]

singledad!Sukuna x neighbor!reader-Sukuna and Yuuji really want you to join their family! role reversal from my other series, think this will just be a one-shot though. Yuuji is Sukuna's brother but he's raised him since he was a baby and Yuuji calls him dad.

cw: Sukuna is manipulative and also a murderer but everyone's happy and you're both aware so it's okay. this is really just fluff.

"I....want you to be my mommy?"

Sukuna scowled as Yuuji looked more confused than ever.

"No, no that is not what you're saying kid. You're just going to tell her about how the other kids' mommies on the playground make you feel left out."

"But they don't, Megumi's mommy always gives me a snack when I'm hungry!"

"That's not his mommy, that's Megumi's daddy," Sukuna corrected, wondering if this was just a hopeless endeavor. He could have easily followed a plan this simple when he was four, but Yuuji was too soft. This was what happened when you raised a kid in a stable, loving environment. They lost the ability to go for the jugular when needed.

"But Megumi's daddy calls him mommy?" Sukuna didn't hold back his groan. You were going to be coming back from your morning walk any minute. He didn't have time for Yuuji to not get basic directions or to explain the dynamics of that Gojo family.

"Look when we go out there, just look sad and I'll handle the rest."

"But I'm not sad, I'm happy. We're going to the park and Megumi's mommy is bringing mochi today!"

"Shit kid, do you want a mom or not?" Sukuna asked, trying not to roll his eyes as be bent down to snap on the velcro straps on Yuuji's light up sneakers.

"I don't need a mom, I have you," Yuuji said. He looked uncharacteristically defiant and Sukuna couldn't help feeling proud of his little brother.

It had been touch and go when Yuuji was a baby. Sukuna had still been a kid himself and they didn't have any money and Yuuji's mom was even crazier than Sukuna's. Their father nowhere to be seen. Since Sukuna and Uraume had spread the pieces of his corpse around the city.

Sukuna pushed these memories aside and ruffled Yuuji's hair. "I know you don't need one, we only need each other." Yuuji nodded, his little head moving with all his conviction. "But it might be nice, right?"

Yuuji seemed thoughtful before finally biting his lip and looking down at his sneakers. He tapped them, making the red and black lights flash.

"She's really nice, I like her."

"I like her too," Sukuna said and he heard the sound of your sneakers slapping against the tiled hallway. "So let's go and look sad, okay?" Yuuji nodded, determined now and Sukuna grabbed his backpack before the two brothers went out into the hall.

You were just taking your keys out of your bag and you turned to the brothers, a smile on your face. "Good morning gentlemen, it's nice to see you. Heading out?"

That was when you noticed Yuuji's downturned expression. Sukuna saw your face shift into one of concern and he resisted a smirk.

Sukuna cleared his throat and squeezed Yuuji's hand. Good boy. "We're heading out to the park, you know the one by the high school."

"Oooh, that's nice. You like that park, right Yuuji? You said it was the biggest one in the whole city," you crouched down so you could look Yuuji in the eye and Yuuji seemed to forget he was supposed to be sad for a minute because he jumped up and down, the lights of his shoes flashing in the dim hallway.

"Yeah, it has the best swings too!" You ooohed and aawed appropriately while Sukuna tried not to smack his head against the wall. Maybe he and this kid weren't related after all, fuck.

Yuuji seemed to notice his expression because he stopped jumping to look down at feet. He put out his lower lip and used the tip of one of shoes to mess with a scuff mark on the linoleum. It would have made a more pathetic visage if his shoes weren't still lit up.

"Yuuji," you said, coming closer so you could kneel on the ground in front of the boy. The sight of you on your knees did something to Sukuna, but he pushed it aside to see what the brat had in mind. So far, he wasn't impressed with the performance. "Is something wrong?"

"It's just," Yuuji let out a sad sigh that wouldn't get him a gig in a car commercial. "Megumi and his mommy will be there and it makes me feel sad because all the other kids have mommies and I don't." God, there was no way you could be buying this, Sukuna looked at you and saw that your eyes looked a little watery.

Huh, look at that. Maybe he wouldn't have to kick the kid out, after all.

"I'm sorry Yuuji, that must be hard," you said and you reached out and swiped out where Yuuji had even managed to shed a tear. Sukuna felt so proud. "But I know that your dad is really excited to take you and the two of you are going to have so much fun!"

"Could you come too?" Yuuji asked and you bit your lip. Yuuji looked up and batted his little doe eyes at you. "It would make me really happy if you came with us. We could all have fun together."

"I wouldn't want to intrude-"

"It wouldn't be intruding," Sukuna cut in. "If you're busy though no worries, I know we'll have fun just the two of us. Right, Yuuji?"

Yuuji bit his lip and Sukuna could tell he was torn between showing how excited he was to spend time with his dad and being 'sad' so you would join them.

You looked between the two before seeming to come to some kind of decision. "If you don't mind waiting while I change, I'd be happy to join you two. Should I bring anything?"

"I think we're all set. We'll wait outside for you," Sukuna said and Yuuji went up and gave you a big hug that you returned.

Sukuna took Yuuji outside to wait for you, the kid occupying himself with a mostly washed away hopscotch chalk sketch. Sukuna alternated between watching him and texting Uraume who was claiming to be over him and his nonsense. Sukuna would take it more seriously if Uraume hadn't been saying that for going on twenty years. He knew they loved him, fucking sap.

Soon, but not soon enough, you came bounding down the stairs. A scarf tied around your neck, your turtleneck exposed by the open top button of your coat. He couldn't keep letting you be single, looking all pretty like that. He was too greedy for that.

Besides, looking the way you did and knowing your big heart, it was just a matter of time before some nice loser tricked you into settling with them and he just couldn't have that. The idea of you taking someone else home to your warm apartment with it's million throw blankets and a cookie jar, an actual cookie jar, he was convinced you kept stocked up just for Yuuji, made him want to commit another murder.

"Ready?" you asked and Sukuna nodded while Yuuji took your hand in his right and Sukuna's in his left.

"Let's go!"

Yuuji's enthusiasm was contagious and the two of you chatted all the way to the park. Sukuna saw some people shoot you all looks as you walked. Sukuna was used to people viewing him with suspicion, even fear. His tattoos, dyed hair and general demeanor making people cross the street to avoid him. Something about you and Yuuji seemed to balance him out though and people reacted as if they were just looking at a cute family going out on a Saturday.

You didn't seem to notice either way and just continued talking to Yuuji about some new anime for kids Sukuna had probably had to suffer through but hadn't retained any memory of.

As soon as you all got to the park, Yuuji took off with barely a good-bye. You seemed concerned and Sukuna bumped your shoulder with his. "Don't stress, he just sees the Fushiguro kid over there. See, they're already fucking around."

He pointed to where Yuuji was chasing around a scowling dark haired boy the same age as him. Sukuna didn't buy the scowl for a second.

He had once run into the kid and his weird dads at the grocery store and the kid had scolded him when he figured out Yuuji wasn't with him. Sukuna would have knocked the kid down a peg if he wasn't actually four years old and if his 'mommy' didn't low key give him the creeps. Sukuna was pretty sure he wasn't the only person guilty of homicide currently at this playground.

"That's so cute," you cooed and Sukuna nodded along while he took you over to some picnic tables. Unfortunately one of them was already occupied.

"Aww if it isn't Sukuna. How nice it is to see your lovely face on a Saturday morning!"

"Gojo."

Sukuna was ready to leave it there but then the bastard got up and walked over. His partner continued sipping on a large cup of boba, watching from his seat although he gave you a little wave.

"Who is this, new girlfriend?" Gojo asked tilting down his sunglasses to look you up and down.

You laughed and introduced yourself while Megumi's parents did the same. Gojo grabbed your hand when you held it out and kissed the back of it, his lips curved into a smile even as he lingered, his fingers clearly holding onto where your pulse would be. Sukuna moved closer to you and put a hand around your waist, the gesture a clear sign for the other man to back off which Sukuna knew Gojo understood because the bitch fucking smiled at him.

Sukuna didn't necessarily take any of Gojo's flirtations seriously. He flirted with every mom and dad on the playground, including him when they first met. He'd even seen him flirt with the guy who worked the ice cream truck so egregiously the kid had looked on the verge of passing out. His partner never seemed bothered and Sukuna wondered if he was just that secure in the relationship or if he hoped someone would finally come along and get the annoying man away from him.

As usual though, Gojo lost interest quickly and went back to his husband who didn't say anything as Gojo lay across his lap like some kind of housecat.

"There are children here," Sukuna said. Mostly out of spite and not jealousy that the two of you weren't curled up like that.

"Don't be homophobic," Gojo said and you snorted before looking innocent when Sukuna shot you a look.

"Alright, let's go see what Yuuji's up to." Sukuna went along with your excuse, mostly just because he liked the feeling of your hand in his. The two of you wandered closer to the playground where Megumi and Yuuji were currently engaged in a game with some other kids that Sukuna couldn't have possibly guessed the subject of.

The kids alternated running around the large structure, disappearing into tunnels, jumping down to hide underneath slides and behind climbing walls. Every time Yuuji popped back up to view he would wave and call out to you both. Sukuna still felt a little warm whenever the kid called him dad and the look you gave him after made him feel caught.

"So, I can see why Yuuji was so sad those morning. Megumi's parents are just vicious monsters," you said and Sukuna was so taken aback he knew his expression didn't hide it well. You smiled and swung your hand that was still in his, turning so you could look at him.

"I don't think that's what the issue was," Sukuna managed and you nodded.

"Right, it must have been because he's so lonely," you said before the two of you were interrupted by the sound of children's ecstatic laughter. You both looked to where Yuuji was now being chased by an entire horde of children.

"I'm the curse, you have to catch me," he yelled out and the other children screamed and laughed as they tried to grab him. Yuuji had never had a hard time making friends and that was very evident in the way he got kids of all ages, even the quiet ones to join in on his game.

"You can have friends and still be lonely," Sukuna argued and you gave him just the softest look. It wasn't fair for you to see through his schemes and still look at him like that.

"Are you lonely, Sukuna?" You got closer to him, your hand still got in his and you were so warm. "Maybe I should come home with you, then?"

Sukuna couldn't have stopped himself from kissing you even if he wanted to, which he didn't. He let go of your hand so he could cup your face in both of his palms. You moaned your approval into his mouth and he responded by nipping your upper lip, pulling you up to meet him as he leaned down to kiss you. Sukuna was about to risk another arrest by taking you right here in the park before a familiar voice called out to the both of you.

"Hey now, there's children here."

Sukuna turned to give the infuriating dumbfuck a piece of his mind when you distracted him by pulling him back to you and giving him a quick peck on the lips. He could leave the fight with Gojo for another day, he supposed. He knew he'd win anyway.

You're smiling and you look so happy and Sukuna doesn't feel the least amount of guilt in getting you here. Even if you knew it was a trick.

Although.

Did this mean you knew that all those times he was "stuck at work" and needed someone to watch Yuuji were a lie too? Or that he actually could cook and the one time he set the building fire alarm off had been because he started an actual fire and not just him burning dinner and two of them didn't actually need you to invite them to dinner so much? Did you also know that your radiator hadn't just stopped working randomly but he had broke it, knowing you would call him because your super never answered, and when he said a part was still missing and you would just have to stay the night at his and Yuuji's place-

Sukuna looked at you more closely and you just kept smiling.

As Yuuji called for the two of you to come help him and Megumi on the swings, Sukuna wondered if he had ever trapped you, even once. Or if you had just let him catch you.

Watching you push Yuuji as the boy screamed for you to go "higher, higher!" he decided he didn't care. Fuck, it might just be better. Knowing you were maybe as crazy as he was.

shout out to the dad at the park today who had the audacity to play with his toddler and have a cute dog at the same time.

also I liked the end of this so much I may just write a prequel of Sukuna and reader taking turns gaslighting the other into a relationship, we'll see.

Edit: wrote the prequel, here!

[murderofravens]

fly me to the moon

pairing: hwang inho/young-il/frontman x fem reader

part: 3/3 [finished]

warnings: age gap (reader is 20, he's in his late 40s) angst, slight masochism, made him very fatherly again, mutual obsession, badly written smut, conflicting feelings, she's kinda crazy about him, brat reader, brat tamer inho, unhealthy dynamics, slight infantilization

summary: you're desperate to piss him off. it doesn't end well.

word count: 4.2k

FULL SERIES MASTERLIST | MASTERLIST

the ankle monitor attached to your leg itches.

you grunt in irritation as you use a spoon to scratch the area. it barely helps— you know the itching is more mental than it is physical. the mere presence of it bothers you. but at the same time, you're relieved. you were given two options— either that, or still having your hand chained to the bed with those insufferable straps. you chose the former. atleast it allows you to walk freely.

you're still not used to this lifestyle. honestly speaking, you've lost track of how long it's been. you mainly tried to count the days based upon the games, but inho doesn't allow you to witness the brutality of the newer games he's designed. he never even mentions them— pretends like it was all a dream and that everything between the two of you is okay. you pretend you don't almost piss yourself whenever his voice switches mid conversation— or when he puts on that mask and grabs his gun before leaving.

while it irritates you, a part of you is almost grateful. atleast this way, you can pretend you don't know exactly how sadistic he can be.

you almost snort at your thinking. you feel pathetic— but then again, do you have a choice?

he's given you free reign of his lavish penthouse— conveniently keeping any and all electronics or sharp objects away from you. which, you need to clap him on the back for. because the first thing you did when you were left alone and uncuffed was look for anything that you could use to hurt yourself— to touch an empathetic nerve in inho. your confidence in thinking of doing so was because he's made it clear how much the idea of losing you scared him. you tried to joke with him the other day— something about him coming back to find you bleeding out on the floor, and he got so furious that he threw his bottle of whiskey against the wall and then gave you an earful about making distasteful jokes. you almost considered running over and grabbing a glass shard and killing yourself in front of him to truly traumatize him like he did with you; but then the thought of your family and your dignity stops you.

you will not kill yourself over a man.

you've thought of many jokes since then, but never dared mention them in his presence.

currently, you were frolicking around— eyeing the massive screen on which he apparently watches the games. you'd insisted upon it once— and he'd pulled you into his lap and allowed you a single glimpse before hiding your face in the crook of his neck and patting your back till you fell asleep to the sound of 'fly me to the moon.'

your eyes narrow. you look around, desperate to find something. there's an itch within you that you need to scratch—it's different than your ankle. it's the itch to be insufferable, to take a sweet little revenge against your old man; to frustrate him and ruin his day like he ruined your life. you can only hope that if you succeed in doing so, he won't kill your entire family in a fit of rage. you've been forcing your heart to believe he's only bluffing, even though you know he isn't.

your eyes fall upon the side table placed by the couch. you look at it, then at the screen. then back at it. with a newfound vigour, you rush forward and pull out the drawer— it's empty except for a few files. you toss them out and hold the drawer in both hands, before looking back at the screen with the most devilish glint in your eyes.

you let out a victorious roar before lunging— using all the strength you can muster and then thrashing the drawer against the screen.

it doesn't budge. the blow has you stumbling over your steps, and the drawer falls upon your feet. you let out a cry, tears of frustration appearing in your eyes. you scream and pick up the drawer again, and then thrash it against the screen over and over— till your hands hurt and sweat builds across your skin.

the screen remains spotless.

amidst your one sided battle, you fail to hear the sound of the door opening.

"it's shatterproof." a heavy voice announces, distorted through the mask.

panting, you drop the drawer and shoot him the meanest glare you can muster with mascara running down your cheeks. he cocks his head to the side— the barrier of the mask between you two making you feel uneasy.

"are you done acting like a child?"

you release a heavy, shaky breath as you stare at him. you want to jump at him, tear that mask off and slam his head against the wall. you want to kiss him and beg him to spare you and your family. your heart races with adrenaline— and your skin feels hot. acting like a child, he says. he's treated you like a child forever. what's so wrong in acting like one?

you slick your hair back, eyes darting around the room— examining everything you can see, till an idea pops in your head.

against your better judgement, you pick up the drawer again. slowly, like a predator, you walk to the side, your gaze never leaving his figure. you stand before his music box— the one with the pretty jazz band that plays 'fly me to the moon,' whenever he watches the games. you've heard it quite a few times since you got here, and you have buried your head in the pillows a few times to avoid hearing it.

you used to adore frank sinatra, but now you can only associate his lyrics with impending doom.

you wish he wasn't wearing that mask, because you would've loved to see his reaction when you ruined something he visibly finds comfort in. you would've felt bad, if he hadn't done the same to you. if he hadn't taken your young-il from you.

you raise the drawer, and then bring it down fiercely. it almost happens in slow motion— how the music box shatters into pieces, and the tiny dolls fall to the floor.

you pant as you drop the drawer then, and wipe the sweat off your forehead. suddenly feeling brave, you shoot him the most smug smile you can muster in your breathless haze.

the silence that follows is suffocating. you blink at him, shoulders rising and falling with your heavy breaths — while he stands there patiently with his hands clasped behind his back.

"are you gonna keep standing there, watching me?" you ask, quirking an eyebrow.

you resist the urge to step back as he advances towards you ever so slowly. he looks at his broken music box, then redirects his blank, masked face back at you.

you egged him on, "aren't you gonna say something?"

"was this supposed to anger me?" he asks. you can detect a hint of amusement in his voice, "a man in my position doesn't have materialistic attachments."

you scoff, vision almost turning red with rage at his tone.

"i think i can afford another music box," he adds dryly, cocking his head to the side, "but what do i do about your manners?"

your eyes narrow with agitation— you were so desperate to piss him off, to evoke an actual reaction out of him; but he isn't giving you one. it frustrates you. before you can do anything, his foot pops out, hits your leg in just the right place to make you shriek and drop to your knees immediately— till the shattered pieces of the box dig into your skin painfully— wood and glass.

"fuck!" you wince, letting out another pained groan. he watches you blankly, and in this moment you wish that mask would just disappear. it makes him look more like a stranger than he already is. you want to see his reaction, even if it is at the expense of your pain. "you— ow! you asshole—"

"language." he chides, bending down slightly so he can grab your hair and yank your head up. you squirm around, trying to get up but he holds you in place, "why must you keep acting like a child—"

"why, i thought i was a child!" you snap back at him angrily, recalling his words from when he refused to send you back into the games. you're furious, "why shouldn't i act like one if you keep treating me that way!"

"do you not want me to?" he asks, giving you a humourless chuckle, "you want me to treat you like the adult you are, huh, darling? i'll treat you like an adult."

you grumble in confusion and he gives your head a little push as he lets go of your hair and straightens up. his hand comes down to shift his robe to the side so he can have access to his dress pants. he pulls it down slightly along with his boxers, revealing how hard he's been by your little show of defiance. your eyes widen and you almost choke on your spit as he grabs your head again, his free hand guiding his cock to your eager mouth, "fuck— is this what you wanted?" he groans, throwing his head back slightly as you wrap your lips around him with the enthusiasm of a slut. he's so unbelievably thick— and all your knowledge for sucking dick comes from porn, so you try your best— forgetting almost every vengeful thought as the skin of his neck is exposed to your vision.

you have never wanted a man this badly.

small cuts on the skin of your knees open up because of the damage you caused, but you can't bring yourself to think about it— not when you lick a long, wet stripe on the underside of his cock, before placing a teasing kiss upon his tip. he looks down at you again, his gloved hand digging into your hair, guiding your head up and down as you try to take him fully into your mouth. your hands come up in an attempt to hold what your mouth can't, but he slaps them away, "put those behind your back."

this time, you obey. your eyes water as he immediately pushes himself to the hilt till your nose presses against the coarse hair at his pubic bone— and only then you know that you are truly gone, because you moan at the smell of him. he lets out a soft grunt again when he pulls your head back, before thrusting in and out of your mouth gently. your hands stay clasped behind your back as he uses your mouth, his balls slapping against your chin as your watery eyes look up at him. you wish you could see him— you want to see his face, you want to see what he looks like when he cums in your mouth for the first time.

you whimper, pulling your head back slightly. he allows you, and you lean down to press a needy kiss to his balls before licking up his cock again. your voice is hoarse when you speak, "let me see your face."

he looks at you for a bit— the stoic face of the mask making you feel more and more isolated— like you're pleasuring someone else. and perhaps, you are, in a way. this isn't your young-il anymore.

"after that little stunt," he answers quietly, voice grim, "you don't deserve it."

you almost whine as he grabs your head again and forces his cock back down your throat— and then you realize what this is. what you thought started as some sort of reward is actually a punishment. you whimper as you gag around him, choking with each sharp thrust as his movements begin to get harsher. tears run down your face as you glare at him, and in retaliation you bring your hand up and grab his thigh. he hisses at being disobeyed, pulls your head forward till you nose is quite literally pressed against his stomach. "hands. behind your back."

despite struggling to breathe, you shake your head as best as you can given the situation. you can't see his face, but you can tell the exact expression he must be making. the one where his eyes get all intense, and his lips start quivering with rage, as if he wants to explode.

you moan slightly and take the opportunity to pull your head back. and then get back to sucking his cock— your tongue rolling deliciously across his shaft as you cup his balls. it almost makes him stumble with shock— the sudden pleasure he feels, judging by the throaty moan that escapes him. motivated by his newfound weakness, you jerk him off while mouthing at the soft skin of his balls, and he almost bends down as he lets out a raspy groan, "fuck! that feels— fuck!"

"language," you tease slightly, voice raspy. you enthusiastically indulge him, your brain suddenly consisting of him, and only him. his voice. his face. his moans. the way his eyes crinkle. you switch from sucking his balls to kissing his tip and jerking him off.

as if to reward you, he suddenly pulls his mask off, one hand of his going up to hold onto the wall for support. he squeezes his eyes shut, and the mere sight of his face has you crumbling— you let out a soft moan as you take him down your throat again. one of your hands slips into your panties, and you start rubbing your clit with vigour as he fucks your throat.

"you little fucking brat—" he grunts, thrusting shallowly in and out of your mouth, the vein in his neck popping and a few strands of his styled hair falling beautifully down his forehead. he's hot when he swears, you think— starry eyed as you look at him. you've never seen a more angelic sight. as you gurgle around his cock, he holds your head down again and throws his head back, cumming with a loud gasp. you cum with a choked moan of your own, your hand shaking as you rub circles into your clit, overstimulating yourself.

you choke as you feel him spill down your throat, and he pants heavily as he slowly pulls himself back, before quickly tucking himself into his pants. you swallow it and cough slightly, covering your mouth with the back of your hand as you wince a little— it leaves a bitter and sticky aftertaste, but nothing too bad. you're sure you'll get used to it. he grabs your wrist and bends down to stick your wet fingers in his mouth, licking your slick off. his tongue rolls around the digits and you moan, eyes dazed as he ensures your entire palm is clean, before pulling back while smacking his lips and humming in appreciation like you were the most prized delicacy in the world.

as if nothing happened, he swiftly picks you up like you're a mere doll— carrying you bridal style to the bathroom. your hair— damp with sweat, sticks to your skin, and your eyes are bloodshot.

and though you can remember your original intention being wanting to take revenge, this somehow felt much more better.

perhaps, you really are too far gone.

you look off into space thoughtfully as he settles you on the bathroom counter. his face is uncovered but guarded— he takes his gloves off, grabs a towel and wets it with water before tending to you. with utmost gentleness, he pulls your bottoms down and tosses them in the basket, before analyzing your wounds.

your panties are so wet it's almost shameful. you got that horny just by sucking his cock. he glances at your face, and you look away sheepishly. the smell of you makes his head spin, but he needs to concentrate on something else. you clear your throat and redirect your attention to his face.

you stare at him while he stares at your knees. he gently wipes the blood off, ensuring no remaining pieces of the music box stick to your skin. he disinfects your wounds and it makes you hiss— he almost winces at the sound, but you're not sure.

you don't understand why he's doing this. how can he hurt you and tend to your wounds at the same time? but then again, how can you hate him and let him do this to you at the same time too?

perhaps, you both are confused. you need someone to rely on, and he needs someone to need him. but neither of you know how to deal with the complications that come with your unconventional relationship, so you pretend it's normal. it's okay.

you look at him but he doesn't meet your gaze. you wish you could go back in time, or travel to another dimension. meet him under different circumstances. perhaps, that relationship would've been healthy. you clear your throat, and change the subject.

"you know, back in the hall," it hurts a little to talk, but you want to hear his voice, and you're desperate to talk about something. anything to end this silence. "before i was leaving to come to you, the old lady said something funny."

he stiffens at the mention of her, and you pretend not to notice. he doesn't glance at you as he cleans your knees, before placing a comforting palm on your thigh. he hums in question, gaze lowered.

"she called you my father," you chuckle slightly, your voice suddenly getting shaky, "isn't that funny? such a funny thing to assume."

he tenses at your words and clenches his jaw. his thumb rubs circles onto the skin of your thigh, before he lets out a small chuckle of his own— it sounds dry. he finally looks up at you— and you almost see a glimpse of your young-il in his eyes. you think he looks upset. you wonder if you offended him, and you consider apologizing, but he interrupts your train of thought.

"really?" he asks quietly, giving you a small smile. it's odd, engaging in casual conversation with him after the little fight you two just had. "well, with how many times i looked after you—"

"—you might as well be," you finish his sentence with a roll of your eyes, "yeah, i know."

he gives a soft, hearty laugh then, tapping your knee. "yeah." he trails off, voice getting quieter. distant. "might as well be."

his mind drifts off. if he hadn't been so late, his kid would've been around your age. perhaps, that's why he immediately grew protective of you during the games. perhaps, it was fate.

your gaze softens, face falling slightly. he looks distant again— like he's fighting a war within himself. you swallow the lump in your throat.

"i saw you that way at first, you know." you said quietly, blinking down at your lap. "you made me feel safe." and now all i feel is fear around you.

he looks at you wordlessly, gaze unreadable. he's thinking— reading you, but you can't do the same with him. he has way more experience at hiding his thoughts and expressions than you do. he's spent decades confined within these walls with people in masks being his only companions— he learned how to wear one himself. permanently. he wants to tell you that you're an open book to him— since the start.

"do i not anymore?" he questions instead, cocking his head to side. you roll your eyes, shoulders slumping as you shoot him an impassive glare.

"seriously?" you ask, voice obvious. it makes him smirk slightly, and he clenches his jaw to hide it.

he cups your face, pulls it up as he looks into your eyes. you don't say a word, simply glaring at him as he places a kiss upon your forehead.

"let me tell you," he quirks an eyebrow— a hint of a smile on his face as he squishes your cheeks, "no kid of mine would be a brat."

you scoff, pushing his hands off as you look away from him. he looks unbothered as he grabs you and puts you back down on the floor.

"i can do that myself, thanks." you huff, straightening your shoulders as you brush past him.

he grabs your hand, pulls you back towards him till you collide into his chest. he cups the side of your face, gently leaning down to rub your noses together. it almost leaves you breathless with how flustered you feel.

"would you rather i give you the silent treatment again?" his voice is unabashedly soft as he speaks. "you didn't like that last time."

your breath hitches, and your heart begins to race again. you clench your jaw before closing your eyes, releasing a shaky breath. you remember collapsing in his arms and crying your heart out when he gave you the silent treatment— being ignored by him hurt and made you feel alone in a way you hadn't felt in years.

you shake your head no.

he smiles. it's almost sinister. his eyes are still crinkly and he would look so utterly adorable to you before— but now, you know his intentions. you can tell when he's smiling only because he's hiding a different approach.

"then you'll behave, won't you?" he whispers, placing a soft kiss upon your lips. you blink rapidly before nodding again.

"good," he says quietly, softly tapping your cheek before letting go and composing himself. "i'll clean that mess up. go back to bed and take a nap, you must be tired after that little show."

you grit your teeth before shooting him a glare, and he merely blinks at you, amused, before you rush back to the bedroom.

he follows not long after, wearing only a black undershirt and his pants. you stare at him as he gently places a tray on your bedside table. you sit up, looking at it curiously. it's a cup of tea.

"for your throat," he explains softly with a pat to your head. the gesture makes your heart feel warm— and once again you start wishing you had met him under different circumstances where he didn't practically kidnap you. that way, your guilty conscience wouldn't berate you for desiring him so much, for being so comfortable around him.

he stands by his own side of the bed, fiddling with his wristwatch. you sit up properly and blow on the tea before drinking it, humming in appreciation. it's your favourite beverage.

he gets into bed soon enough, sighing to himself. you place the empty cup on the table and look off to the side, not wanting to meet his gaze, no matter how good he looks.

he says your name softly and you melt.

you look at him and he tenderly caresses your face with the back of his hand. you wish you could read his thoughts.

you swallow your pride and say what you've been thinking.

"why did you never apologize to me?"

his gaze hardens slightly and his hand pauses. you swallow hard as you await his answer.

"because i'm not sorry," he says calmly, "I don't regret anything i did."

you clench your jaw, "not even hurting me or my feelings?"

he chuckles a little— amused at your naivety, "I don't regret doing anything that brought you to me."

you blink at him before looking away. he forces you to meet his gaze by grabbing your chin.

"i don't regret anything," he repeats lowly, eyes intense. "as long as i get to have you."

"you hurt me." you whisper, voice cracking.

"i know." he nods, "you'll get over it. you're my brave girl, aren't you?"

you grit your teeth so hard you fear your jaw might snap. you glare at him, while he looks at you indifferently. wordlessly, he opens his arms and welcomes you into the comforting little space he created. you consider running off, defying him, breaking the tea cup and using the glass to threaten him or just killing yourself— anything.

bur you don't. like always, you succumb to him, and give up control. you eagerly crawl into his side and he holds your head against his chest. he pulls the sheets over the two of you and pecks your forehead.

"still don't feel safe?" he asks, almost teasingly. you can't believe he keeps trying to joke with you— he's cruel. you scoff, giving him a weak shove and he grabs your wrist and holds your palm against his chest. you can feel his heart beating. you wonder if yours beats this loud too.

you get comfortable a few moments after, and force yourself not to think about your life before the games. before him. you wonder if your family is happy, if they're wondering where you are. you wonder if your mother thinks you're dead, you wonder if she still prays for you. even if your family thinks you're dead, you hope they find happiness and move on from the thought of you. you hope they live a life of ease.

the thoughts make you sniffle and you hold back the urge to cry, burying your head further into his chest. he hums softly, patting your head almost paternally till you fall asleep, and only when he is completely sure that you're out of it, that he allows himself to close his eyes too.

and the next day, the cycle repeats.

A/N: another song title because i have no creativity... anyway this was meant to be a blurb but i ended up writing a glimpse into their relationship because i love them so much. and well.. the smut is mid but i hope you guys enjoyed it. thank you for reading and thank you for the support!! i love all of you.

tags: @bonelessghoul @cowuies @auspicious-lilana @politicstanner @verouys @gloriousjellyfisharcade @carolinevoight @shadowmoonlight0604 @ancrygurl @sunoon @jessgentleman @colorwastaken @loversroq @clown-around-and-find-out @popcorm @xcinnamonmalfoyx @robertthehoover @iloveoldermen0204 @kpopsmutty69 @iamkali @thebluehair23