#but you know i now get it that it's still job well done and the nice notes really help ty :)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Second Time's The Charm XI

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: An old face watches a match

She wasn't as young as she once was.

Teaching hadn't originally been her first choice as a job but after finishing school and spending a few years bored senseless as a receptionist, at age twenty-five, she'd made the change to teaching children in their first year of school.

Now, twenty-five years later, she was getting older and her students seemed to be just as wild and excitable as they always had been.

This school trip hadn't exactly been planned by the school, not fully anyway but a generous donation from who knows where had her and a few other teachers taking a three classes of wiggling and excited five year olds to a home match for the Barcelona women's team.

"Let's get to our seats now," She says, trying to get everyone in her class seated and happy but it's like trying to fight a group of wet cats - a losing battle.

"Miss, he pushed me!"

"Miss, I want to sit with my friends!"

"Miss, I can't find my bracelet!"

"Miss, my Mami gave me spending money!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

"Miss!"

She sighs to herself, rattling off instructions in a way that only a practiced teacher could.

"Lucas, stop pushing people. We use our nice hands with people. Isabella, you can sit next to your friends if there's space. Ana, your bracelet got put into your bag. Pedro, spending money can be used at half time. Now, everyone needs to sit down or else they won't start the match!"

It takes a little while to get all the kids settled and she briefly thinks about how this would be a hell of a lot easier if the school had more people who could chaperone.

It's a fleeting thought because she knows she can't do anything about it now but still, it would be nice.

Nice like it is now to watch one of her old students walk out as one of the most well known footballers not only in Spain but the world as well.

Alexia Putellas, the captain of Barcelona, leads her team out - head held high and back straight. A far cry from the little girl that used to slump in her seat in class and cry when someone took her ball at breaktime.

There weren't many students that she remembered so well - a handful that have ended up in politics, one that somehow ended up at the UN and one whose arrest made national news.

But Alexia was one of the good ones, helpful and polite most of the time.

She can remember though, with startlingly clarity the second day of classes.

It had been her second day as a teacher ever and she'd been supervising the playground at lunch when Alexia had appeared and dragged her off.

She'd dragged her all the way to the slide where you'd been waiting.

"You have to marry us, Miss," Alexia had said, eyes wide and incredibly earnest," We want to get married."

"Er..."

"You have to, miss," You'd joined in," Because we're in love and my Papa always said that people in love get married."

She'd been speechless then but still done as you and Alexia said, a little charmed by those two little girls begging to be married under the slide.

Alexia was easy to follow now, her exploits known throughout the country on and off the pitch. You'd faded though and your old teacher wasn't quite sure where you'd ended up.

Likely something successful and important.

Even as a little girl, you'd had a good work ethic. Work before play, always, was something you'd abided by.

She could see you as something important now. Your parents were doctors, she's pretty sure, so maybe you followed in their footsteps.

It would suit you, she thinks as she watches Alexia slam the ball into the net for a third time today.

Barcelona wins.

But that's entirely to be expected.

What isn't expected though, is for the staff from the team to invite the classes down onto the pitch to meet the players.

"Carlos, don't run! Mia, don't yell over someone! Lucas, again! Stop pushing people! Everyone will get a turn!"

"Some things never change then."

She turns with a smile. "Alexia."

"Hi, Miss."

"You don't have to call me that anymore."

Alexia's brow wrinkles. "What else would I call you? You've always been my teacher."

"You're an adult now, Alexia. You don't have to call me that anymore if you don't want to."

"But I do. Is that alright?"

"That's okay. So long as you want to."

Alexia beams, the same big smile she had as a five year old when she would come to the desk with a picture she drew of herself in the Barcelona kit.

It's still strange to see that exact image in real life.

"I'd like to introduce you to one of my daughters. This is Maya."

"She's beautiful."

"Mi Amor is just changing our other daughter. They'll be out in a minute."

"It's nice to see that you're doing so well. A good job. A nice family."

"We have dogs too! And my wife's old cat! She built me a house, you know? My wife, that is. Not her cat."

It's nice to see that Alexia's word vomit from her childhood hadn't changed much either. She was so stoic and quiet most of the time but any topic that drew her interest could be (and would be) talked about for hours at a time.

"That's nice to hear, Alexia."

"And we bought a villa in Greece for our next holiday! And I bought her this nice matching bracelet and necklace set! But! You can't tell her because it's going to be a surprise!"

"A special occasion?"

Alexia looks affronted at the idea. "I don't need a special occasion to show my wife how much I love her! Just my love!" She turns, glancing over her shoulder and her whole face lights up. "Oh! Amor, you're back! Look, Miss Rivera is here!"

Miss Rivera looks over to the tunnel where you have emerged from, a babbling baby on your hip and a rock of a ring on your hand.

"Oh, hi, Miss!"

She sighs. "I told Alexia that you two don't need to call me that anymore."

You frown. "But you've always been our teacher. What else would we call you?"

"Miss, this is our new baby Elena." Alexia puffs out her chest proudly. "My wife gave birth to her. Doesn't she look good for giving birth a few months ago?"

You slap her on the shoulder before pressing a kiss to where you just slapped. "Don't listen to her, Miss. She'll take any excuse to talk about it."

Alexia nods solemnly. "It was very scary because there were complications but she's doing so well now. Both Elena and my wife. Right, Amor? She's a doctor, you know. Very successful."

Again, Alexia seems to preen like a peacock as if you being so successful and so smart brought her such pride.

"You've both been very successful," Miss Rivera says," I'm so proud. A long way from that marriage under the slide, huh?"

You grin, intertwining your fingers with Alexia's.

"But still married."

[mountainsandmayhem]

BDSMaid - Chapter 9

Series Summary: In order to save money for law school, you accept a job working as a maid for high end clients. You aren’t supposed to know whose home you’re cleaning, but your curiosity is peaked by your first client, and when the two of you have a shocking and surprising run in more than just your curiosity peaks.  Word Count: 5k CW: see small red lettering below the cut AN: I'm going to miss them!! I'm absolutely heartbroken that I'm done, but so fucking proud of myself for what I've created. Thank you to @lotusbxtch for being my beta from pretty much the very beginning. I am so grateful to you and so honoured (yes, with a u because I'm Canadian lol) to call you my friend. Also little shoutouts to @for-a-longlongtime, @alltheirdamn, @mermaidgirl30 and @littlevenicebitch69 for listening to me go on about them for 80% of 2024. As always, graphics and dividers by @saradika-graphics

My Masterlist || Series Masterlist

TW: unprotected p in v, one spank, multiple orgasms and Overstim hinted at, pining, heartbreak

Eight Months Later

Joel

“I got yelled at by a feisty brunette last night at that gala,” Tommy says as the two of them sip whiskey at the bar of the club. 

“Probably deserved it.” Joel deadpans and closes the folder of invoices he’s looking over.

He should be doing this in his fancy, and newly renovated, office across the street. He was in the large office for all of three minutes the day after you left when he could only see the ghost of you. From the chair you sat in when you first asked him to teach you how to be a sub, to the door he pinned you against and confessed how out of his mind he was over you, everything was you, and it had to go if he had any chance of following what you needed from him. Joel hasn’t even been in his room at the club out of the fear of what it would do to him. Would I still be able to smell the lavender of her shampoo in there? Still be able to hear her beautiful cries of pleasure and pain bouncing off the walls?

“She thought I was you,” Tommy says, glancing over at his brother and interrupting Joel’s impending spiral.

Joel sighs, slipping his reading glasses from his face before taking a long pull of the amber liquor from his crystal glass. Tommy looks straight ahead as he continues.

“She’s doing great, by the way. Or at least that’s what her friend said when she was scolding me.”

 Joel winces at his words, “Of course she is, Tommy.” Even though it's been almost a year since you left, just the mention of you rips his barely-mended heart back in half. It doesn’t seem to matter how much time passes, he still feels like he did in his kitchen. 

The very fibers of his being ache just as hard for you now as they did then. He longs to see you and touch you, to feel your warm, soft skin under his hands again. Anyone before you was always, ‘Yes, Mister Miller,’ even when they weren’t in a scene; but not you. You weren’t afraid to be curious and unapologetically yourself. He hasn’t laughed as hard with anyone, including Tiffany, as he did with you. But the part that he misses the most is the way you look at him the first time you see him. Your eyes soften, velvety pink lips parting slightly before they curl into a smile that makes his heart hammer behind his ribs. Then, he watches your shoulders relax and it makes him feel like he hung the moon and stars for you, and if he could have, he would have.  

He clears his throat and then rasps, “She’s too smart to not be doing well.”

Tommy stands, bringing his hands to rub at Joel's shoulders. He squeezes his tense deltoid muscles and with a hint of mischief in his voice he says, “Lots of pretty girls here tonight if you feel like moving on.”

Joel shakes his head and pulls away from Tommy’s grasp with a grunt. “Never gonna happen. Get outta here before you get yelled at two nights in a row.”

“Just too bad for me that you aren’t a hot brunette,” Tommy says with a laugh.

“I have brown hair,” Joel replies defensively, running his fingers through the grown out curls. 

“Not to kick you when you’re down, but it’s mostly grey at this point.”

Joel holds up a single finger at Tommy over his shoulder as he laughs and walks away. 

Two and a half years later

You

You’ve been up to your eyeballs in studying as you prepare for your finals. These last few years in California have been the hardest yet most fulfilling time of your life. Two nights in a row now, you’ve fallen asleep in the library, only waking when your Spotify would switch from the white noise playlist you use to help you focus, to your “getting ready” playlist. After dragging yourself to your dorm room in the dead of the night, you’d get a few restless hours of sleep before heading right back to your favourite studying spot. You can’t believe that in just a few short weeks you’ll be graduating and stepping into the life you’ve always envisioned for yourself.

The unmistakable FaceTime jingle fills your AirPods. Jamie’s name is splayed across the screen of your phone, along with a photo of the two of you at Albany Beach when she visited this past Christmas break. You put your highlighter down and slide the answer toggle over. 

“Hey!” She says, her warm smile shining up at you. You squint, trying to place where she is. You don’t often let yourself think of Joel, but the cracks across your screen make FaceTiming difficult, and the selfish side of you always wishes you had grabbed that new phone before you left. Your head cocks to the side; broken screen or not, you don’t recognize the background.

“Where are you?” You ask.

“Oh, I’m good, thanks. How are you?” She jests with a mocking eye roll.  “I’m at a cabin.”

“What cabin?” You say, glaring at her jokingly. A deep laugh comes from the otherside of the phone and your eyes widen. “Who’s that?”

The man's voice comes from offscreen, “I can’t believe you thought she wouldn’t ask where you were. She’s going to be a lawyer, for god's sake.”

“Jamie, who is that? What is going on here? Blink twice if you need rescuing!” You joke. 

Jamie blushes, looking over the phone at whoever that voice is coming from. “I just wanted to call to see how the studying is going, and to let you know that I got the graduation tickets.”

A glass of white wine appears in front of Jamie and she smiles before puckering her lips in a kissing motion towards the man in the room with her. “Ok, seriously, who the fuck is that and where are you?”

“I was also calling to let you know that Laren can’t make it anymore and Odette is in New York,” she takes a small sip of her wine.

“Oh, well that’s ok,” you say, trying to squash the disappointment and hoping it doesn’t show in your voice or face. You wished that at least two of your three best friends would be there for you. “It can just be me and you, baby!” 

“Well…I’m wondering if I could maybe bring my boyfriend? Might be a good opportunity for you two to meet.”

“What? What boyfriend?” You say, officially abandoning all study materials until you get some answers. Jamie raises a perfectly manicured finger and calls the mystery man over. 

You swallow hard as Tommy Miller appears beside her. 

Jamie glances up at him, her bright green eyes full of admiration, his mirroring hers. The starry look in their eyes tells you everything you need to know; they’re so far gone for that even a search and rescue team wouldn’t be able to save them. She looks back at you. “Meet again, I guess.”

You try to push for answers, but either of them give in, claiming you need to focus on finals. Before you hang up, Jamie promises to tell you the entire story when you see each other next. You’re happy for your friend, especially seeing the way Tommy looked back at her. Even through your cracked screen you could see the love, but as you try to go back to studying you have a hollow feeling in your stomach.

Graduation Day

You

The late afternoon sun fills your dorm room, boxes of your belongings stacked haphazardly around you. After walking the stage tonight, you are going out to dinner with Jamie and Tommy, and then he has paid for a hotel suite so the two of you can have a girls’ night. You can’t wait to hear how Tommy went from, in Jamie’s previous words, “my dad’s new asshole friend” to her boyfriend. 

You step in front of your floor length mirror, zipping up the black graduation gown over your knee length, form fitting, deep emerald velvet dress. The California sun has been good to you, your tanned legs and sunkissed nose and cheeks are glowing. You place your blue and yellow Berkeley Law stole over your head and then grab your cap, ensuring the ‘Class of ‘28’ tassel is secure. You fluff your curls one last time as a light knock comes from your door. 

“Ready to graduate, gorgeous?” Ronan smiles at you, eyes trailing down your gown. He’s the type of handsome that’s almost painful to look at, but more importantly - you wouldn’t have made it through these last three years without him. You met the first day - the lock on your door wasn’t working, and he waltzed in on you half naked when he mistook your room as his. 

You smile at him in your doorway now; remembering the way you screamed at him that first time, trying to cover your chest, and him scrambling to close the door. His eyes were clamped shut, and he slammed his finger so hard that you had to take him for stitches. Now, several years later, he fills out his graduation gown perfectly with those wide rugby shoulders, a sight you couldn’t even have imagined back then. Whichever angel made him didn’t make a single mistake - he’s tall and insanely broad, with dark sandy blonde hair, and clover green eyes that in the right light are a golden hazel. He’s easily one of the smartest men you’ve ever met and an incredible athlete. The cherry on top, because of course there’s more: he’s an international student and has a panty-melting Irish accent. 

“Beyond ready. Let's become lawyers, babe.”

He steps aside, one arm out in a ‘ladies first’ gesture. Handsome, charming, and thoughtful - a dangerous trifecta. You slide your hand in the crook of his muscle-lined arm and walk across campus together.

Ronan jerks his head towards the coffee cart. “Remember when you spilled your entire coffee on your new puffer jacket?”

You glare up at him, you saved for weeks to buy that jacket. “No, but I remember you throwing up in that trash can after the Halloween party last year.” 

“Well, if Beach Party Barbie had helped Lifeguard Ken with all those shots we wouldn’t have had that problem, would we?” You laugh as Ronan puffs out his chest, but you both know he was more than willing to take your half of the ‘Best Couples Costume' shots. 

Finally, you reach the courtyard where the law students will be walking across a stage that acts as the symbolic bridge to the rest of their lives. I’m a lawyer, you think to yourself and try to force a smile. The magnitude of the day only really starts to sink into your bones as you see the friends and families of your classmates start to take their seats. The excited feeling you had earlier starts to morph. You’re proud of yourself for what you’ve done these last three years, and this was just the first step. You have so much to look forward to, so why do you feel a sense of dread building in the pit of your stomach? 

Ronan walks you to where you need to line up alphabetically, kissing your cheek and then, after leaning in and placing his large hand on your lower back, he whispers a joke about how you better not trip. You glance around the thick crowd for Jamie and Tommy. After realizing it’s hopeless to try and spot them in a group this large, you slip your cap over your hair and get in the procession line. 

You try to soak in every minute of the day, from the speeches to the birds chirping in the background, but something akin to loss flutters at the base of your spine. You’re just as sad to be leaving Berkely as you are excited to carve out your future. Leaving here isn’t what’s causing you to feel this way, however. You try to tell yourself that maybe it’s just nerves; even with all the job offers coming in from your internships, it’s normal to be nervous about what comes next. 

As the student union president gives his toast to the family and friends, you look down at your lap, pushing back the cuticle on your left thumb. Maybe it’s leaving Ronan. He’s been an anchor for you, grounding you almost every day of the last three years and you don’t know how you let yourself become this dependent on anyone, especially a man, again.  

You shake your head at yourself and try to move your focus to the cuticle on your other thumb. Seeing the skin clean from the nail bed eases the tension slightly for you. ‘I’m allowed to be nervous when leaning on people, but not everyone will leave me,’ you recite almost automatically in your mind, the mantra you’ve had these past few years whenever you feel yourself getting this anxious. Just as you finish the thought, a car revs in the distance and the realization of what - or who - you’re actually missing slams through you so hard that you almost feel winded. Your lungs ache, tears pushing behind your eyes as his name rings loudly through your mind.  

Joel.

You kept yourself busy since the minute you left Austin. The busier you were, the less time you had to focus on the void in your heart. During the school year, you didn’t have to find things to stay busy with; law school nearly chewed you up and spit you out. Over the summers, you worked as an intern and visited your friends. There was never a quiet moment, never too much time alone with your thoughts, and it was better this way. You can confidently say that you’d only thought of Joel six times since you walked out of his house that day: when you fell asleep on the beach and were so sunburnt you could barely move for three days; when you failed your first test; when your rusted SUV, that acted as your ticket to freedom at eighteen, died on the freeway in rush hour (from that point on you had to rely on public transportation to get you to the homes you cleaned). When you experienced your first earthquake; when you stayed up for forty-two hours straight after your partner in a group project didn’t have their side of the work done; and, lastly, this past New Year’s Eve when you were in Austin and thought you saw him at a party. 

“Is he here?”, that little box of feelings that you shut away in a vault long ago wonders. “Has anything changed for him in the last three years?” 

The small smile that pulls at your cheeks, and the excited flutter of your heart when you think about the possibility of seeing him again, proves that maybe nothing has changed for you. As the minutes tick by, your mind races with all the possible scenarios for after the ceremony. What if he is here? What will you say? What will he say? How will Ronan react, you know he has strong feelings about what happened between you and Joel. Even worse though, what if he’s not here? But maybe he’s at the hotel where Tommy and Jamie are staying?  

Before you know it, your row is standing and walking single file towards the stage. With each strike of your high-heeled strappy sandals against the concrete, a memory of Joel floods your system. The toast he made you in his kitchen, the kiss in that dimly lit hallway on your birthday, the way he walked you through his club and how calmly he talked about you being in charge before going into the voyeur room. The multitude of orgasms he gave you within the four walls of his private room. Him singing on the small stage of the dive bar you found, followed by him spanking you right there in the bathroom with his hand clamped to your face to keep you quiet. His strong hand grasping your thigh as he drove you to his house. The way he tasted on your tongue. The smell of his skin: all ash and leather, occasionally mixed with whiskey or mint. The feel of his body: hard, broad and hot. His shuddered breaths as he confessed so many things in so few words. 

‘It’s only you, sweet girl.’

‘Just call me Joel.’

‘I know, and I’m so proud of you, sweet girl.’

You carefully walk up the stairs, forcing the thoughts of Joel from your mind, just in time to hear your name announced as a graduate of Berkeley Law. You float across the stage, grabbing the piece of paper that acts as your degree until the real one comes, shaking the hand of the Dean who flips your tassel before you walk to the stairs on the other side; the stairs that symbolize the ending of your time here and the beginning of the rest of your life. 

As you reach the top of the steps, you look out into the audience and see Jamie. She pumps her fist in the air and before you can process the empty seat beside her, you feel it; a strong tug from behind your navel. It takes you less than a heartbeat to find him and the sight before you floods your body with a familiar warmth. Standing under a large tree at the edge of the audience, dressed in all black, and holding his Stetson hat to his heart, is Joel. For the first time in years you feel whole again.

 You keep your gaze on him, worried that if you so much as blink that he’ll be gone. You are supposed to follow your classmates, but you veer left, walking towards Joel. The closer you get, the more at ease you feel. He’s real, you think, he’s here. You stop a foot or so in front of him. 

“Hi, Freckles,” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly. His eyes dance around your face, almost as if he’s trying to memorize this moment. You can’t help but wonder if he’s feeling exactly how you are.   

“Hi, Sweet Cheeks,” you say, the same tremble in your voice, as you try desperately to hold it together. “You’re here.”

He nods and you give him a tight-lipped smile as your mind races. There’s so much you want to say, but now that he’s standing right there in front of you after three years, you don’t know where to start. 

Joel breaks the silence, jutting his chin in the direction of the other graduates as he says, “I saw you come in with your boyfriend. When I saw you kiss, I was going to leave, but I made you a promise.”

You knit your eyebrows together and take a step closer. “Boyfriend?”

“The man you walked over here with,” Joel says, his black Stetson sliding down the chest you so desperately want to touch as he drops his hands to his sides. He’s left no barriers between the two of you except the heartbreak that’s evident on his face. 

You laugh quietly, “No, he’s - that’s Ronan.”

Joel nods. “Okay.”

“He’s my friend,” you clarify, and when Joel’s face stays the same, you add, “And he’s still as gay as the day we first met!”

Joel lets out a whoosh of a breath and closes the distance between the two of you, his free hand comes to one of your curls, twirling the end of it around his thick fingers. Soft and silky meets rough and calloused. “I’m so proud of you, Freckles.”

You don’t miss how he watches your tongue dart between your lips, “Thank you.”

“So? How does it feel?” He gives you a soft crooked smile, his dimple carving into the short facial hair of his salt and pepper beard. Between that smile, and the way his brown eyes wash over you, you’re overcome with affection. He let you go. He did exactly as you asked him. He didn’t chase you or try to convince you to stay. You told him if he really loved you, then he’d do exactly this; and in turn, he did what he said he would. 

He showed up. 

“I love you,” you state and the air between you turns electric, almost like this moment could either set you both aflame or act as a generator for your future together. Joel gives you that look, the one that makes you feel like you’re the center of his universe. He lets the curled end of your hair slip from his fingers, reaching up towards your graduation cap but hesitating.

“May I?” He rasps and swallows hard.

You nod, and knowing exactly what he’s going for, you take the Stetson from his other hand and place it on your head after he removes your cap. The brim of it blocks out everything but the two of you.

“Say that again, sweet girl,” he murmurs.

“I love you,” it’s barely a whisper this time. “Even after three years apart, you are everything to me. I asked you to let me go so I could accomplish this, and you did. You’ve always done what I asked, what I needed. I’m not sorry for what happened between us, but I am sorry that I missed out on getting to spend the last three years with you looking at me how you are now. I love you, Joel Miller.”

He brings his lips within a breath of yours, and your body practically vibrates with the knowledge that if you leaned just a bit forward, you’d finally have his mouth on you again. You can almost taste the mint on his tongue as the familiar fragrance of ash and leather surround you. “I have dreamed of hearing those three words leave your beautiful lips more times than I can count, baby. You’re it for me. I’ll do anything for you, even if it means breaking my own heart, but I’m always going to be here for you, rooting for you and encouraging you. I’m glad you’re not sorry, because I’m not, I’m so fucking proud of you. I love you, too, my sweet girl.”

Finally, he presses his warm, firm lips against yours while pulling you tight to his body. You wrap an arm around his neck, holding the black cowboy hat against your head with your other hand. It doesn’t matter that the ceremony isn’t done, or that there are hundreds of people to your right. For the first time in three years, everything goes quiet. He hums contentedly and you feel yourself melt against him, tilting your head so he can deepen the kiss. He parts his lips, letting you take the first swipe of your tongue against his. Need floods your system, and based on the way he grinds into you, he’s feeling the same. 

He breaks the kiss, but doesn’t go far, resting his forehead against yours. “Take me home,” you practically purr.

“Where do you want home to be? I’ll go anywhere,” Joel rasps, running his nose down the bridge of yours. 

“Austin,” you respond, your breath catching as his lips ghost along the side of your mouth.

“I sold my portion of the club to Tommy and Tess. I don’t have anything holding me in Austin anymore, sweet girl. If you have a job offer you really want, that’s where we’ll go.” You pull back to look at him. You can tell by the set of his jaw that he’s serious. 

“I want to go to Austin. I have a job offer there.”

“Good thing I told Tommy not to touch my room at the club then.”

“That’s a very good thing,” you moan and then pull him in to kiss again. The audience behind you erupts into cheers, celebrating the accomplishments of every student in that crowd. 

You’re a lawyer, and suddenly, the future doesn’t seem so scary.

Joel

Taking you home to Austin that night unfortunately wasn’t an option. After finding Jamie in the crowd, and being formally introduced to Ronan, he called the car to pick up the three of you. You all met Tommy at the restaurant, celebrating with all the expensive homemade pasta and overpriced wine that you wanted; even though seeing you in that curve-hugging velvet dress was slowly killing him. Joel had kept at least one hand on you since seeing you again, and he doesn’t plan on changing that anytime soon. 

He didn’t want to rush you on your big night, so he waited patiently, listening to you tell stories of your last three years, and revelling in the evident joy that you and Jamie share over being together again. When dessert comes around he catches Tommy’s attention and gives him a small smile. It’s fitting that the two brothers, who have been so close their entire lives, would fall in love with best friends. 

Once in his room, he spent two hours stripping you down at an almost painfully slow pace. He kissed every inch of your skin twice over and has pulled five orgasms, and counting, out of you so far. 

Now, Joel is seated in the wide velvet arm chair in the corner of his hotel suite. His cock is buried deep inside of your tight cunt as you straddle him. Your skin feels like butter under his hands as he trails them along your back and the globes of your perfect ass. He’s missed tying you up, but this is what he longed for: the earth shattering intimacy he feels with you in these moments.   

“Please,” you mumble into his neck, desperate to move your hips.

“Not until you answer me,” he demands softly. “How many times was it that you needed me, but were too stubborn to reach out?”

Earlier tonight you told him about the six times you really needed him. He’d kissed you softly after each confession, returning the trust with a time he needed you. After the last one, he’d pulled back to look at you with dark eyes. He’d hated that you needed him and he couldn’t be there. He’d clenched his back molars twice before he said you’d be denied six orgasms the next time you were at the club, but tonight you have permission to come as often as you need to. 

He swats your already reddened ass cheek and your pussy flutters as you cry out. “Mister Miller, stop. Please, just let me move.”

“Do you need to use your safeword?”

“No,” you respond with a pout. 

“How many times?” He says again through gritted teeth, even though already knows the answer. 

“Six,” you sob. 

He tuts and then growls, “That doesn’t sound like my good girl, does it?”

You shake your head against his throat and moan a sound of disagreement.

“Do you want to come for me again?”

“Yes, Mister Miller. Please!”

He trails his fingers up and down your back again, the thin sheen of sweat on your skin makes it easy for him to caress you. He smiles to himself at the shiver that racks through your body at his touch. You react so beautifully to him. “Yeah? You wanna grind your swollen little clit on my piercing, baby girl?”

“Please,” you whine again, stretching out all the vowels in the word.

“Show me. Ride my cock, take what you need.” 

You lift your head from the crook in his neck and pull back slightly, rocking your hips back and forth; a sultry laugh leaves his lips at your eagerness. You look at him with hooded eyes, hair stuck to your forehead. His eyes trail down your neck to the bruises he sucked into your collar bone earlier and then to your breasts; both of which are covered in his marks. He watches the little gold nipple clamps, and the chain that connects them, bounce with each flick of your hips. 

“That’s it, sweet girl. You look like a goddess, my goddess. Who do you belong to?”

“I’m yours, baby,” you say through shallow breaths. He pulls at the chain and you cry out in pain. “S-sorry, Mister Miller.”

“Again, sweet girl. Tell me who you belong to.”

“Oh fuck, y-you, Mist -” his hands come to your face and when he whispers your name the rest of your sentence dies on your tongue.

“Just call me Joel.” The commanding voice of his alter ego is gone as he says it. 

Your hips slow, changing from a frantic back and forth to a sensual swirling motion. “I’m yours, Joel. Forever.”

He kisses you softly, a silent telling of how vulnerable he is at this moment. “Don’t ask me to let you go ever again.”

The smile you give him causes his heart to skip, “I won’t.”

“You might, sweet girl. I won't survive it if you do, so I’m going to remind you of this moment as often as possible for the rest of my life. Remind you how much you’re loved and supported. You’re mine, Freckles.” Your hips swirl and he feels you tighten up around him. “Come for me, my sweet girl.” 

“Fuck, fuck, Joel!” It’s a cry and moan all at once. 

“I’m here, it’s ok, baby.” With that, your body shudders and you fall into him as you shatter. Your pussy clenches and releases rapidly around his length. His cock twitches, and once he can’t hold it anymore he relaxes, letting his orgasm rock through him in time with yours.

“I’m yours, too,” he gasps as he melts into you.

The End

Coming Soon:

Curious how Jamie ended up with her "dads new asshole friend?"

Part 2 of the BDSMaid Trilogy coming mid 2025!

Also, stay tuned for the epilogue for Joel and Sweet Girl.

[sweetheartbitesb4ck]

part one || part two || part three || this is part four

The weeks following your first 'date' with Simon were full of going on little walks together, but most of all? The pings, to say the least. He would text you so often it came as a shock to you he even had a job. You found it amusing, sure, maybe even annoying, but you hadn't anticipated the sheer silence when he was 'away with work', as he put it.

You had guessed that meant deployed or something of the sorts... and it worried you, yeah, but your feelings for him were still new and you didn't want to get hurt if anything was to happen.

You'd been excited when he'd promised to write to you a few days before he left, but as the days flew by with nothing more than some bills, bank statements and late birthday cards dropping through the letter box it occurred to you that Simon Riley had been too blown away when he first saw you in your house to remember the road name, and far to drunk when he first spoke to you to remember the number on your front door.

So Simon sat there when he wasn't fighting or in briefings and had downtime (which was rare) writing letters he knew he couldn't send away, partly because it was a risk to send stuff away and partly because he would just blank on your god damn address every single time.

He didn't even have his phone because of something to do with trackers and intel and it was all a bit of a fuzz of unconfirmed information that Simon had explained to on a walk a few days before his departure.

This is what worried you. You obviously knew the dangers, and you two weren't even 'official' yet, but you would have liked to be updated. You couldn't help but feel a bit sick when your mind travelled to the horrors his job could boast.

Prior to his deployment, you and Simon had got to know each other a little better, which only made your nerves worse now you had more of a bond, plus you had gotten to see the less flustered version of him. You'd mostly talked over the phone but had also gone on a few walks together. It felt weird; missing someone you'd so quickly fallen for. You could only hope as the days blurred into weeks then into months.

Then, two months later, Simon was back. He'd been resting and getting medical support for a day or two before he journeyed home, and his first thought? It was to retrace his steps down that one road to that house with the open window that had changed everything. He could have slept, unpacked, done anything, but all he wanted to do was to see you.

You groan as you hear a knock against the door... you'd just about drifted off after hours and hours of tossing and turning, your head reluctant to rest. Trudging downstairs, you pull on a hoodie over your pyjamas. "Who the fuck..?" You murmur, clicking on the hallway light and unbolting the door, ready to dive back into bed.

"What?" You grumble as you swing the door just a crack open, your eyes widening and breath hitching at seeing that tall frame and skull mask. You slam it shut, fumbling to unlatch the door and burst it open, flying into the bulky man's arms and screaming.

Simon grins under the balaclava, stumbling backwards slightly as you bounce onto him. "You alright?" He asks, his voice so nonchalant even as you wrap your arms around him. Probably still trying to seem cool for you.

You pull back, face still covered in shock. "Fucking alright? That's all you have to say?" You cry, voice a few pitches higher than usual. "Fuck, Simon... you said you would write!" You mumble, leaning back in to hug him. Part of you wanted to say there forever, holding him there and squeezing him as hard as you could, but you knew you should probably invite him in. So that's what you do.

His mind flicks back to Soap's so called relationship advice, the words "honesty is key" in that loud Scottish accent rattling through his mind. "Okay fine," He grunts, avoiding eye contact. "I hate tea. Can't bloody stand the stuff."

"Well," Ghost replies, shoving his hands into the big pockets of his tactical jacket as he steps inside, shutting the front door behind him and following you to the kitchen "I didn't know your address," He admits, smirking as you raise an eyebrow at him and snicker. "Oh yeah," You chuckle slightly, trying to refrain from smothering the poor bloke as he takes a seat at your table. "Tea?" You tilt your head and glance at the kettle.

"I hate t-" Simon bites the inside of his cheek and curses under his breath. Fuck... He thinks, realising him lying about loving the drink would probably wean him into having it regularly. "Tea's great," He nods, noting how you raise your eyebrows, expression sceptical.

Simon nods, rubbing his eyes sarcastically. "It's probably too late to walk home, aye," He says, eyebrows raised.

You huff with amusement, flicking the kettle off and rifling through your cabinet. "I'm out of coffee,"

You and Simon chatted for hours, sitting at the table. At first, he was jittery, but he soon relaxed, trying to stop staring at you, although this was hard as he finds you so breathtakingly perfect.

A few hours later, you tilt your head and smile at Ghost as he yawns. "You must be tired," You say softly, leaning on the counter.

"Yeah," You respond, scratching your neck with a mock confusion. "Lucky I have a double bed, eh?"

And with that, the two of you curled up on the mattress, Ghost pulling you towards him, arms firm around you as he let the gentle rise and fall of your chest guide him to sleep.

"You're sure?" Asks Ghost, his nervous expression from the coffee shop returning to his face. He was still terrified of scaring you away, but wanted nothing more than to collapse onto your bed and just hold you. You nod, smiling gently. "Come on." Taking your hand, Simon follows you upstairs to your cosy room, allowing himself to relax, stop being awkward. The decoration alone made him feel at home, probably because it shone with your personality.

Love. Simon was sure that's what that feeling was... the one that had seized his whole being since he first set eyes upon you.

Never in a million years would he have predicted this if he was asked about his future a few months ago, but here you were, two awkward and unsure people falling in love from nowhere.

thank you sm for reading! I hope you enjoyed part four..! if anyone wants a part five, I'll most likely do it, ( I just need to figure out what I'd write... probably something about the letters) but yea if u want that just let me know.... also, feel free to make any asks for fics u would like to see :)

sorry if my posting is irregular for a while! I'm back at uni and work after the Christmas break so very busy

[thequietkid-moonie]

Little things they do when they are in love

[ HEADCANONS ] [ Argenti, Boothill ]

[ Honkai Star Rail ]

This is a new thing I wanted to try, instead of making general relasionship headcanons I wrote random and cutie headcanons, I actually enjoyed writing this more so i wil keep doing it from now on!

Argenti

Always at the side to protect you with his body. Argenti holds his title as a knight with pride and honor and thats going to be show in his affection and love too, he vows his like to Idrila but he is your knight too, what kind of knight would he be if he isn't really to protect you? Whenever you two are out, even if there isn't really an obvious threaten he always walk in the side of the road more crowded

Treating you as if you were made of glass. He doesn't do it in the way that he is scare that he may hurt you but in the way that as if he were holding the most precious thing it has ever existed in the whole cosmos, everytime he touch you he does it with such gentleness and care, even if is in a dangerous situation when he holds you to shield you he is surprisingly gentle with his touch. Although, Argenti doesn't underestimate you, he is far from that, is just that you hold so much value for him that he can't let anything happen to you

Fixing your clothes. It isn't that he judge your aesthetic or that he is a perfeccionist, he is just really caring, he tent to pay a lot of attention to you so he end up noticing the small details like when you clothes or hair gets a little messy and he simply decided to fix it for you, for him is nothing really, is just a small little detail, he doesn't even expect you to thank him or even aknowledge it he just do it because he loves you and wants everyone to apreciate your beauty

Always greeting and saying goodbye. Even if the path of a knight of beauty is in loneliness now that you are in his life he holds your relationship with great value and honor, he still has work to do but always has time to be with you, thats why everytime you see each other there is always a beautiful greeting fit for a knight of beauty, as well as a temporary farewell everytime you have to part ways, always promising on his life to come back to you once his job is done. Argenti is actually so loyal that whenever he has to go somewhere without you he makes sure to tell you where exactly is he going and how much time it will take him approximately

Pampering you with affection and compliments. Argenti is not shy when it comes to affection, as a knight of beauty is his duty to recognize the beauty around the universe, and you are one of the most beautiful people he has ever seeing and he is not afraid to tell you, with him at your side your life will never lack of compliments and prasises but when it comes to physical affectionate he waits because he doesn't want to cross your bounduries by accident, still he is a big fan to take your cheeks on his hands and leave gentle kisses all over your face or gently take your hand in his to place a kiss on your knuckles (even kneeling down to do it like a true gentleman)

Boothill

Speaking a little louder. Its not his intention to come across as rude, he normally speak in a rather quiet tone since his style is to do his job and go, he only speak louder when he gets excited or when the battle gets more serious, whenever he is with you he feels comfortable and happy so he can't help but speaking just a little louder

Acting like a simple couple and forgeting about the world for a second. For being a galaxy ranger Boothill's life is always a rush, he does his job and leave the place so whenever he has the oportunity he like to simply slow down and enjoy your company, having at least a second to simply relax and enjoy still being alive, enjoy having you in his life

Learning and teaching. Since Boothill used to be a cowboy and now is a galaxy ranger he knows a lot about surviving and fighting, he wouldn't mind teaching you things like using a gun and, honeslty, he would be rather excited about it! As well, if there is anything you would like to teach him or even he gets interested on something you know how to do really well he will be happy to learn too, actually this quality time is incredibly comforting for him, it makes him feel human

Keeping and arm around you. Again, his life is constantly a rush and he gets lonely quite often, so whenever you two are together he likes having you as close as posible. Keeping an arm around your shoulders or waist have diferent purpose, first of all is a protective gesture, a way to remind you that he is here to protect you if you need it (he is your galaxy ranger after all), the reason he keeps as a secret and prefer to don't admit out loud is for the comfort, he had lost everything in a second already once so keeping you so close is to remind himself that you are really here, that you are at his side still breathing, that nothing bad had happened to you

Staring at your skin. The days of being a human cowboy are long lost and his new robotic body is an eternal reminder about what happened and what he has to do, he is quite troubled by the fact that his only soft skin is on his face so he just got the tendency to stare at your skin, he doesn't do it in a creepy way he just accedently zone out while staring at your skin, his mind going back to his lost past, but at the end he always apologize if he make you uncomfortable by it

Gift you flowers. Honeslty, those flowers are almost never bought on a flower shop, everytime Boothill bring you flowers those are ones that he had collected personally from the wild, for him those flowers hold a greater meaning than any other flowers he could bought, not only shows that he had went out of his way to collect them but also shows the beauty of a living planet. The flowers he always brings are diferent, small or big, with soft or bright colors, he likes vary from what flowers he brought you on the past and loves seeing your reaction for them (but gets really embarrassed if you point it out)

[missdynamighttt]

Hii, I hope you had a very happy holiday and that you are well, I love the way you write! I would like to ask you for something half anguish half soft and whatever you want to add some other thing even if it is spicy.. Something where both the reader and Katsuki are both pro-heroes, The reader tries to take good care of himself during missions and avoids getting hurt so that Katsuki doesn't worry (go crazy about it) But Katsuki doesn't do the same and almost always ends up hurt and worrying the reader and this makes her upset by his lack of reciprocity.. They end up fighting for a moment but end up reconciling. I hope it's not too much to ask, bye, kisses🙏

hi hun!! hope you had a very happy holiday too<333 that means SO much to me, thank you lots!! its not too much at all, i hope this met your expectations and i hope you enjoy it. byeee, kisses <333 (disclaimers: handjob in a hospital, nipple play, mentions of breeding kink, calls you mommy, switch katsuki (gets really subby in the end))

katsuki was on his bed in the infirmary, covered in bandages and scratches. he had gotten himself injured again during a battle with a villain.

you walked into the room, face filled with anger and concern. you quickly made your way towards his bed and looked at him, obviously frustrated.

"my fucking god, katsuki.."

katsuki looked at you with a mixture of annoyance and guilt. he knew he had upset you by getting injured again this badly but that didn't matter to him.

"what? i'm fine."

you tried to blink back your tears as they threatened to escape, lips curled into a stubborn frown. "you look anything but fine."

katsuki rolled his eyes, still trying to act nonchalant about his injuries. "i've had worse. you know that. i'll heal up in no time."

he huffed slightly as he attempted to shift his position on the bed, causing a small wave of pain to shoot through him, but too stubborn to show you his signs of pain.

"we have the same damn job," you snapped, holding his arm and helping him up. your eyes narrowed, words filled with irritation and worry. but you don't see me acting like a reckless idiot, do you? i may get a few scrapes and bruises, but i don't look like I've just stumbled out of a warzone."

"i'm not acting reckless. 'm just doing my damn job," katsuki grumbled as he grudgingly allowed you to help him. "and besides, you're always avoiding getting hurt. you never take any risks, so it's no fuckin' surprise you don't get hurt."

you widened your eyes at him in disbelief, shaking your head in frustration. "no risk?"

"yeah, no risk. you always play it safe, you never take any chances, you always avoid fighting any shitty villains that might be too damn dangerous..." katsuki trails off, noticing the look on your face and realizing that he might've struck a nerve.

"playing it safe? is that what you assume i do to prioritize my fucking life?" you let out a scoff of disbelief, lips twisting up in a sarcastic smile. "is that what you think I do when I try to protect myself, so that you don't have to add my name to your growing list of worries?"

katsuki's expression softened slightly. he knew deep down that she was right, but he wasn't ready to admit it.

"it's not about that. it's about getting the job done. sometimes that means taking risks."

"excuse you. i get the job done just fine. at least i don't look like i've been trampled on by a hundred fucking bulls."

"yeah, well, at least i'm not afraid to get my hands dirty."

katsuki knew that was a low blow even as he said it, but his pride was too wounded to backtrack now.

your emotions finally breaking through the facade of toughness as you bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill.

"damn it, katsuki," your voice cracked slightly. "all i'm asking is to keep yourself safe. do you even realize how much it hurts me, seeing you injured over and over again, knowing i can't do anything about it? its like.. you don't care. then you go ahead and insult how i do my job and..."

kasuki's expression softened further as he saw the tears in your eyes. he knew he messed up.

"sweets, i... i didn't mean what i said. you're great, okay? the damn best. i just.. wanna do my damn job. i don't want to hold back and let someone get away with shit because i was being too careful."

you let out a huff of frustration, rubbing your eyes with the back of your hand.

"doing your job properly doesn't mean throwing your life away, katsuki. what if something happens again, and.."

your pause as tears welled up your eyes, finally rolling down your cheeks like a waterfall. you tried to wipe them away, movements aggressive as your sniffles growing louder despite the attempts to keep them silent.

katsuki watched as you wiped away your tears, guilt gnawing at him. it was a sight that never failed to clench his heart. he reached out and gently gripped your arm, pulling you closer by the edge of the bed. "hey, c'mon. don't... cry, dammit."

"i'll be fine, i always do," he continued, his voice softer than usual. he crooks his finger to tilt your head up at his gaze. "even if i look like i got trampled on by a hundred fuckin' bulls."

he repeated your words back to you with a small grin. you huffed when you realized he was trying to lighten the mood, giving his arm a gentle nudge as you pouted at him.

"i... i can't lose you. not again, katsuki," you sniffled, lower lip trembling slightly as you kept your emotions in check. "okay?"

katsuki's smirk faded as he heard the raw vulnerability in your voice, the memories flooding his brain back when he almost lost his...

"sweets... i'm not going anywhere, okay?" he repeated, his voice serious now. "i promise." he pulled you closer, wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

you huff, calming down in his arms a little as you appreciate the warmth of his embrace and the sound of his steady breathing.

meanwhile, katsuki held you close, feeling your body relax against his. with a sigh, he buries his face in your hair, taking solace in the feeling of your in his arms. he hated seeing you upset, and he hated himself for being the cause of it.

"i'm sorry."

"hmph. you better be."

you sigh as katsuki chuckled slightly, the feeling of your fingers in his hair sending a shiver down his spine.

"i am. i won't be so reckless next time. i'll be more careful, i promise."

"if you don't?"

"if i don't? what, you'll come kick my ass yourself?"

"katsuki."

katsuki takes a deep breath before letting out a long sigh, looking up and his gaze fixed on you.

"if i don't..." he begins, tucking a strand of hair behind your hair. "i just won't. i don't want to put you through that again. i'll keep my word. for you, sweets. okay?"

you nod, your pout giving way to a more relaxed expression as you sank deeper into his embrace. you were a little more relaxed now that he gave you the reassurance you needed. he just needed to recover, and then—

you suddenly felt a slight shiver run through your body as you register the feeling of katsuki's lips on your neck.

katsuki grins when he noticed your slight surprise, continuing to place soft kisses along your neck, pausing occasionally to nibble on your earlobe.

"you worry too much, you know that?" he whispered in between kisses.

"only because i care about you..." you breathe, your voice a little breathless as you leaned into his touch. you really, really couldn't hide the effect his touch had on you.

katsuki's smirk returned as he heard you gasp, the sound sending a wave of heat through his body. he moved his mouth to your jawline, trailing kisses along your skin.

"i know you care about me," he murmured, his breath warm against her skin. "and as much as i love seein' you get all feisty when you're worried about me... i promise i'll be more careful from now on."

"okay...good," you hum softly as he continued peppering kisses down your body. "glad we.. cleared that up."

katsuki chuckles, his lips still against your neck, his hot breath sending shivers down your spine. "yeah, we did."

you had to bite your bottom lip when he moved his lips, nipping at your collarbone. "and now that we have that settled..."

"there's somethin' else i'd like to do."

your eyes widened in surprise as you realized what he was hinting at, heat spreading across your cheeks. "w-wait—"

katsuki grinned again when he noticed how bashful you were getting. he loved it when he could get you all flustered like this.

"what?" his lips hovering near your ear. "you don't want to?"

you shook your head, your desire warred with concern. there was a part of you that wanted to give in to the moment, but practical senses prevailed. he was still recovering from his injuries, and you weren't about to risk his health for an orgasm.

"i..." you began, voice shaky with a mixture of desire and reluctance. "yes, i want to... but not here. and not while you're still recovering, dammit."

katsuki pouted slightly, clearly disappointed. but as much as he hated to admit it, he knew you were right.

"tch, fine. but don't blame me if i start goin' crazy from recovery boredom."

he paused, a sly smirk appearing on his face. "although... i could think of a few ways you could keep me entertained while i recover."

you tilt your head with a raised eyebrow. "like?"

"well... you could start by just cuddlin' with me while i rest," he teased, his voice low and suggestive, tugging you closer to the bed so that you could cuddle him. "or maybe you could give me a few kisses here and there... you know, to help me heal faster."

"oh?" you smile, scooting over the bed and snuggling up to him. "did the doctor approve of that?"

"doctors are overrated," he says in mock-offense as he wraps an arm around you. "they all say the same things. rest and fluids, blah, blah, blah. where's the fun in that?"

"besides..." he leaned in closer with a grin, his voice dropping to a whisper. "who needs a doctor's approval when i have a beautiful woman like you to take care of me?"

you scoff, nudging his arm softly and roll your eyes, running your fingers through his hair. "as much as i'd love to take care of you, i'm scared we might get caught."

"what, afraid of getting caught in the act?" he asked with a mischievous grin. "come on, it'll be fun."

he could tell you were still reluctant. so, he pulled you even closer, his hands roaming up your hips and resting on your waist, his lips brushing your ear when he spoke. "we'll be discreet, i promise. just a few kisses... no one will ever know."

"i'd rather if you just focus on recovering."

"a few kisses ain't gonna set me back. i'm fine, sweets. i heal fast, remember?"

"then, if you heal fast, i doubt you need me to kiss you, right?"

"you think i can't handle a few kisses, is that it?"

you grin at his pout and shrug. "i think you can't. because then you're going to take it too far."

katsuki rolled his eyes, mock-offended. "i have no idea what you're talkin' about. i'm a saint."

he leaned back against the pillows, narrowing his eyes at your reluctant gaze and giggles. "besides, i'm in no condition to do anything strenuous right now. a few innocent kisses won't hurt."

you huff, exhaling in a soft sigh as your pout deepens. your eyes flicker to his, searching for any kind of reassurance. you didn't want to set back his recovery by going too far but who were you to deny him the kisses he needs? "you promise?"

"a few innocent kisses, that's it. no funny business, no getting carried away," he paused, reaching out to take your hand, his thumb tracing circles on the back of her hand. "just a few little kisses to keep me entertained while i recover."

after a moment, you gave in with a sigh, nodding in reluctant agreement.

"fine..." you muttered, your tone a little sulky.

but your gaze flickered to him, your narrowed eyes meeting his with a hint of heat. slowly, you lean in closer, your breath catching in your throat as you prepare to initiate the kiss.

katsuki grins as he tilted his head slightly to meet you halfway, his eyes closing in anticipation.

"that's more like it," he murmured, his voice low and sultry.

katsuki reached up to gently cup your cheek, his thumb tracing soft circles along your skin as he closed the distance between your lips.

the moment your lips met his, he let out a soft sigh, wrapping his arms around you as he deepened the kiss. it was slow and gentle, a stark contrast to the usual.. passionate embraces.

but the kiss deepens and katsuki starts to get lost in the moment, you can feel him getting more aggressive and intense. sensing that he's starting to lose control, you give his bicep a gentle but firm squeeze, signaling him to slow down. it acts like an anchor, reminding him to keep his desire in check.

katsuki feels your squeeze on his bicep and realizes that he's getting carried away. he breaks the kiss, panting for air as he tries to regain control of himself.

he looks at you with dilated eyes, his chest rising and falling heavily. "f-fuck.. 'm sorry.. i got carried away..."

you chuckle breathlessly, your own heart racing. you try to reassure him with a soft, affectionate smile on your lips. "it's okay... i liked it."

"damn it. me too. maybe a little too much," he sighs, glancing down at himself and groans at the tent in his pants. "fuck, you're not making this easy. you know how hard it is for an injured pro-hero like me to resist his gorgeous girl? and i'm supposed to be recovering, remember?"

"oh? who insisted on the kisses, smartass?"

"hey, you're the one who agreed to it."

"weirdo," you tease, poking his side gently. "want me to..?"

katsuki's breathing hitches at you looking down at his lap. he knew he should resist. he needed to recover. but the sight of you, looking at his raging boner, and imagining what you'd look like taking care of it, is almost too much for him to handle.

"don't tease me like that, woman. you know what the answer is."

you glance down to admire the obvious tent in his pants, the evidence of his desires clear as day. you can't help but bite your bottom lip, feeling a sudden rush of heat as something aches in between your legs.

"okay," you whisper, reaching down for the waistband of his pants. "just keep quiet f'me, okay?"

katsuki nods, his eyes locked on you as you reach for underneath his boxers. he feels his breath catch in his throat, his body tensing in anticipation.

"yeah.." he breathes, his voice strained. "i'll be quiet..."

katsuki watches as you touch him, his eyes darkened with desire as he feels your hand wrap around his cock, his body already responding to your touch.

"fuck... fuck, you're so hot.." he manages to say, his voice hoarse and gravelly.

you laugh softly, looking up at him, thumbing the tip of his cock thats leaking with pre. "yeah? you think i'm hot, katsuki?"

"mhm.. so hot.." he nods, his breath coming in ragged pants. he closes his eyes, his head falling back against the pillows as he sinks further into the bed. "f-fuck.. feels so good.. keep goin', sweets, fuck.."

katsuki's hips instinctively buck up into your touch, trying to get even more friction. he grips the sheets, his knuckles turning white as he struggles to keep himself quiet.

you chuckle breathlessly, biting down your bottom lip as you slowly fuck your fist on his cock, purposefully slowing down. "you're not keeping quiet, katsuki. what if someone hears us, hm?"

"fuck, you can't do that to me.. don't tease me like that.." he lets out a strangled moan, unable to hide how needy he is for you. he bites down on his lip, trying to muffle his noise. "i'm tryna be fuckin' quiet, i swear.. but it's gettin' really fuckin' hard.. just keep going.."

you smile, a small, sassy grin that dances across your lips. yu shake your head lightly, titling it to one side as you wrap your fist tighter around his cock. "do you need my help to shut you up, hm?"

katsuki nods, his face flushed and his eyes pleading. "yeah. please.. please, i can't keep quiet on my own. i need you.. i need you to shut me up with your tits..."

you stop stroking him a little to shift positions, maneuvering yourself so that he is lying on your lap and his face on your chest. his head rests on your thighs, and you can feel the warmth of his body against yours as you reach out again to stroke him.

"so needy, sweetheart," you tease in a soft murmur, your fingers tantalizing on his cock as you look down at him.

"hmph," he huffs as his hand slips under your shirt, tugging it up quickly before his fingers warm against your skin as they brush against your stomach. it's not like he could tell you that you were wrong.

katsuki tugs gently on your bra, his intentions clear as his eyes lock onto yours. he doesn't break eye contact with you as he pulls your bra down, your tits spilling from the fabric, hard nipples already meeting the cold air and his hot breath.

it doesn't take long before katsuki's mouth immediately latches onto your nipple, moaning softly against the skin as his tongue swirls around your areola.

"you taste so good," he groaned, his other hand touches your neglected breast, rough and insistent as they knead and massage the doughy mound, pinching your nipple. "fuck, sweets.. wanna make you a mommy. get these gorgeous tits swollen with milk..."

"yeah?" a small, sheepish smile plays on your lips as you try to find your words. but it's hard to think clearly, hard to even form a sentence when he's getting handsy with your tits, feeling your cunny clenching with need. "you wanna make me a mommy, sweetheart?"

"yeah," he breathes, his cock twitching with precum as you stroke him. "i wanna put a baby in you. wanna fill you up and get you all nice and pregnant for me. you want that, right?"

your cheeks heat up as he gets more aggressive with your tits, his hands continuing to caress you. "yeah, maybe. so?"

"yeah? you'd like it if i knocked you up, mommy?"

you let out a soft moan, your body arching involuntarily as you try to process the pet-name. whenever he got subby, which was rarely, it always caught you off-guard. you wanted to deny how much it affected you as he caresses you, nibbling on your nipples like a man possessed.

"katsuki... i thought i told you to keep quiet.."

you clicked your tongue at him, your hand moving up and down his cock faster, purposely toying with him. he whines at the change of pace, his head dropping back against your plush thighs before he presses his face against your chest to muffle his moans.

"fuck... i'm sorry, mommy, i'm sorry," katsuki whimpers against your nipples, his tone almost whining and pleading as he looks up at you. "i'll keep quiet, i promise..."

"it's a shame, really," you murmur. "with how loud you are, now i'm thinking if i should even let you cum."

"no, no. need to cum, i'll be so quiet, i promise," katsuki gasps out, sucking your tits sore in between his pleas as he humps your fist.

"don't stop.. i'll be a good boy, just let me cum, mommy-"

"yeah? you think you deserve to after what you did?"

"im sorry alreadyyy," he moans, his voice cracking as he begs. it's hard to believe he's a tough, powerful pro-hero known for how aggressive he is. all brought down to a whimpering, whiny looking mess for you. "fuck, fuck, i'll do whatever you want... just please let me cum. please, mommy.."

katsuki looked like a little boy who wanted his favorite toy as he fondles your tits. he's desperate, he's needy, he's your whining, jacked boyfriend who just wants to cum.

and who were you to deny him what he wants?

"it's okay, baby," your voice is a sultry purr as you look down at him. "since you've been begging real good f'me, you can cum.."

katsuki's eyes flutter shut at your approval, a soft, guttural moan leaving his lips. he's close, so close that it's almost painful, and he's clinging to you like a lifeline. "shit.. sh-shit, thank you, m-mommy... fuck, 'm gonna fuckin' cum, shit-"

he bucks his hips into your hips one last time before trembling beneath your touch, shaking as his cum shoots down your fists, his cock twitching from the release.

you grin as you pump your fist on his cock, helping him ride out his high. your fingers linger on him for awhile before you pull away, licking your fingers off of his slick.

but someone still needed you. katsuki sat up and pulled you closer and he grabs your face in his hands, his lips crashing into yours in a fierce, desperate kiss. he kisses you like he needs you more than air, like he'll die without your touch. he doesn't even care if he's being needy. he just wants you, and only you.

he breaks the kiss for a moment, panting for air as he presses his forehead against yours. "fuck," he mutters against your lips, his voice rough and ragged. "that was... shit, i don't know what to say." he chuckles breathlessly.

"well..." you start with a cheeky grin, your fingers running through his hair. "you could start by saying thank you."

he huffs out a laugh, a tired smile spreading across his face. he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck, inhaling the scent of your shampoo that he just loves. "thank you, baby. you're perfect, you know that? so goddamn perfect."

you bask in the moment, smiling warmly as you revel in the comfort of the cuddle. his warm, firm body against yours feels like home, and you feel content and complete in his arms.

in that moment, you feel completely content and at peace, as if nothing else in the world matters besides the two of you. you press yourself against him, a silent reassurance that he's here, he's real, and he's all yours.

[read-write-thrive]

Charles Rowland Week Day One — Cricket Bat/The Brawn

There were a lot of unexpected downsides to being a ghost. Sure, he got a best mate and a “life” he loved out of dying, but it wasn’t all sunshine rainbows and ice cream. And not just the major things like being chased or attacked on cases, neither! Small things were just as bad, especially when they snuck up on you

Take the mirror thing, for example. It’s really not an issue, right? Charles wasn’t vain or anything, he didn’t need to see himself in the mirror constantly. But you don’t realise how much you look in the mirror until it’s gone, really. All of a sudden your only perceptions of yourself is what you can see looking down and what you can remember. Charles had done his best to not think about it at all, but was rather suddenly confronted with his image issues about a year into being dead.

Well, “suddenly” isn’t quite right. Truth is, they’d just found a place to call theirs and were set on fixing it up. They hadn’t settled on a name for their detective agency yet, but they were getting there. At the moment all they were doing was cleaning the space as best they could to try and make it feel more homey.

You see, the place was, looking back, their reward for their first case. They’d taken to wandering London, just seeing the sights really, when recently they noticed the building. In slight disrepair, sure, but the weirder part was the poltergeist wreaking havoc on anyone who came near it. The living (un?)consciously avoided the place, but the boys hadn’t heard the gossip and were the next victims to its destruction. They couldn’t be killed, of course, but they could still be thrown about (and injured, apparently! Blasted iron—).

Edwin had already picked up a magical tome on their travels (which he’d then casually carried in his overcoat—Charles, who was still struggling to reimagine his clothing, was only a little jealous, he swore) and was thankfully able to use it to banish the poltergeist. They both took a hit or two, but Charles had realised early on that he needed to take the attention off Edwin in order for him to actually use magic. Charles had quickly rallied against the poltergeist, distracting it and taking the rest of the blows that came with that. Well, he’d tried to tackle the poltergeist first, get on the offense and all that, but that hadn’t gone well. So then he just took the hits until Edwin did his job.

Edwin, for whatever reason, had been right pissed about it in the days since. He kept his sentences short, kept his nose in that bloody book, and was overall being a cranky bastard. Charles was still sore from the fight (how ridiculous that ghosts could even be sore) and was frankly fed up with it. Time to tackle it head-on.

Though he could’ve taken the empty chair on the other side of the desk, Charles decided that being up close and personal was better for this talk. He marched up to the desk and sat on the ledge of it, arms crossed and looking down at Edwin, feet nudging the base of his chair.

Edwin didn’t even look up from the book, “Yes, Charles?”

Charles carefully took the book (bookmarked it, naturally, he wasn’t a monster) and set it aside as he spoke, “We need to have a chat, mate. Now, if you’ve got the time.”

Edwin let the book be taken, though his (stupidly broad, how does a sixteen year old even get built like that?? too fit for his own good and he doesn’t even know it, the wanker) shoulders remained tense. He quirked an eyebrow as he looked up at Charles, “Since you’ve taken my reading, I suddenly have the time. What is it you wish to speak about?”

Charles used his hand to motion at Edwin’s face, “All this. I get that you’re angry with me, though I have no clue why, but I need you to come out and say it, yeah? I’m not a mind reader.”

Sighing, Edwin properly faced Charles, “Fine. If that would please you. I am unhappy with how you handled our encounter with the poltergeist, and I was hoping you would apologise for it. I see that will not be happening.”

“Apologise?” Charles questioned, bewildered, “What the bloody hell did I do? I distracted the thing while you used your fancy magic to get rid of it!”

Edwin remained unimpressed, “I can handle myself, Charles. Your display of… masochism, shall we say— was unwarranted and reckless. We had no way of knowing what the poltergeist could do.”

“And? What, I was just supposed to let the thing do equal damage to both of us? Or let you take all the hits? You’re the one with the bloody book, mate, least I could do was give you time to read it.” Charles huffed.

“And yet your soul is less tempered than mine, so it is extremely likely that you will succumb to injuries at a faster rate.” Edwin snapped back, hands steepled in front of him as if this were all just obvious facts.

Bewildered, Charles tried to clarify, “What are you saying? I can’t take the same damage as you? Seriously?”

Edwin’s eyes, usually steadfast in maintaining eye contact, flickered down Charles’s form, then back up to his face.

Charles knew what that meant. It wasn’t the first time he’d gotten looks like that, in conversations like these. Every time he tried out for a sport, every time he tried to stand up to his dad, every time he tried to keep up with his mates. Charles knew he was twiggy, alright? He didn’t put on muscle like the other lads did even doing the same sports and eating the same school-provided meals. Hell, even when he tried going above and beyond in eating meat and lifting weights all he did was get lean, not properly muscley. A fact which everybody noticed.

As a result, he’d get these looks. Right rude looks. As if it was funny to think of him being strong or holding his own in scraps. There were a few times his mates would egg him on to fight some other bloke twice his size to try and embarrass him. Maybe it wasn’t so harmless, looking back, but Charles usually scraped by by changing it into a race or just talking his way out of it. He knew they wanted to see him take a beating, even if they framed it as him “proving” that he was stronger than he looked. They’d give him that same look every single bloody time, as if he had to be bluffing and they were thrilled to call him out on it.

This was made all the worse by his dad of course—his dad who outright laughed in his face any time he tried to stand up or fight back. His dad who left just enough visible bruises and scars to make it seem like Charles was out fighting every break and losing every single one of ‘em. The teachers took it as another sign of Charles being no-good and brushed off any time he wanted to get treatment or lenience for the injuries. The other boys would laugh at the bruises and such, asking what Charles did to piss off his foe. Asking why he kept fighting if he was so obviously always going to lose. Just look at him—how would a scraggy thing like him ever win a fight?

So yeah, maybe Charles was a bit defensive about how he looked and how strong he was. It was all the worse by the mirror thing—was he skinnier dead? How would he ever know for sure? To top it all off, he’s dead. Not exactly like there’s a gym for ghosts, is there? Well, not that they knew of yet at least. And with his luck, a ghost gym wouldn’t do anything either.

Point is, Charles was practically stuck in this stupid thin appearance for the rest of his ghostly days. And he hated it. He hated it every time he went to check a mirror and saw nothing, forcing himself to rely on his memory. He hated it every time he struggled to manifest better clothes—Edwin kept telling him to just visualise, right, but how was he supposed to do that when he’d avoided visualising himself at all for years? What if he made it worse by visualising? Maybe he was a bit bigger since dying! Some unconscious thing helping him out or some shite. He didn’t want to risk making himself any skinnier!

It was ridiculous, all of it. But Charles was not about to take that same bullshit from someone he thought was better than all that.

“What, I’m too skin and bones for ya? Too weak? C’mon, tell me. I can take it.” He really couldn’t, truth be told, but he was ready to bluff his way through the hurt like always.

Edwin’s face scrunched up, “What the devils are you talking about? We’re ghosts, Charles, our appearances are entirely subjective. Not to mention they have little very bearing on this situation.”

Now it was again Charles’s turn to be confused, though he was still hunched up on the defensive, “Then what? What is it?”

“I do not want to see you hurt, alright?” Edwin snapped, “We do not know how to fix any injuries you might have sustained and you were completely defenceless! I was trying to focus on locating and performing the proper spell and there you were, ready to be obliterated in front of my very eyes!”

Charles gave a slightly relieved sigh. Edwin looked displeased at this, but Charles started speaking before Edwin had a chance to continue, “You’re mad at me because I scared you, is that it? Mate, I’m perfectly fine! We got that fucker out of here and I’m perfectly a-ok! Here I was thinking I’d properly mucked something up—“

“I am serious, Charles—“

“So am I!” Charles planted his hands on Edwin’s shoulders, forcing complete eye contact, “Look, as soon as we can, we’ll get our hands on some weapons for me to use alongside your fancy magic books. Hell, maybe you can make me one for all we know on magic!”

Edwin again went to reply, but Charles wasn’t finished.

“I’m flattered you care, and thank you for looking out for me, but I promise I’m stronger than I look. Get me a bat or something and, with you and your magic, I’m happy to take on any future baddies we come across, yeah?”

Edwin sighed again, but it was clear his icy demeanour was melting, “I suppose we can have that be our next move, now that we have a headquarters for ourselves.”

Charles all but cheered, ecstatic to have actually resolved their little spat, “That’s the spirit! I’ll be the brawns, you be the brains, and our Ghostbusters agency will be brills!”

“For the hundredth time, Charles, we are not naming our detective agency after some film!…”

—

Day one of @charles-rowland-week in the books! I make no promises to have something for every day/prompt bc my life is a mess (as per usual) but I wanted to at least do one :) hope y’all enjoyed it !!

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part two//t.c.

Warnings: mention of deception, possibly toxic relationship, small argument

He was so close, leaning onto the table with his hands. You turned your head, your heart racing, thinking he’d do something crazy like kiss you. There’s no way he would do that, right?

You watched him look at the laptop screen for a few seconds, but it felt much longer before he spoke. “I think it’s time for a lunch break.” He stood up straight, “Ready?”

You were brought back to your senses, “Yeah, um, what do you want me to go get today?” you asked, pushing your chair back and standing up as well.

“Actually, I thought we’d go out somewhere.”

"Oh." you said, shrugging, "Alright."

............

The lunch wasn't really anything special, he just took you to a sandwich shop where you sat in a booth and finished eating within ten minutes. But it was abnormal, considering the two of you had never gone out to lunch, or any other meal together. Typically, he would have you go pick up food from somewhere, mostly to give you a mental break from the workday, or you would order food to be delivered to his place.

After returning to his house, you decided to break the ice on a topic that he was dreading: the Golden Globes.

"So, have you been thinking about the Globes? Do you have an acceptance speech ready?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna win." he slumped down in one of his comfy chairs in the living room.

"Timmy, you should have something prepared. I can help you write something."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I should have something, just in case. That's your job for the rest of the day, write my speech." he smiled cheekily.

You giggled at his goofy face, "Okay, boss. You'll have to proofread so I don't leave anyone out on your thank you list. Should I mention Miss Jenner?” the last question was a bit of a joke. You didn't think Timmy would ever mention a significant other publicly, not even if he were married to someone for 10 years with children.

Timmy only rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no.” he said firmly, taking his phone out, looking at the screen.

“Are you guys…okay?” You knew this was a sensitive spot, but not sure exactly why.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” he said plainly. He did not want to talk about her.

You bit your lip, "Well, I will go get started on that speech, unless there's anything else you need me to work on?" you started to turn on your heel.

"No, nothing right now, y/n, thanks." he said to you, but kept his eyes on the phone.

You could not get your head around how nice he was being to you, not that he was ever particularly mean, except for the night before, but you were over that. But to actually thank you for just doing your job was not typical of him.

.........

Later on, evening hours were approaching, and it was nearly time for you to go home. You heard Timmy's footsteps trailing into the dining room. His phone was still in hand.

"She is wanting to text; I just don't have the energy tonight. Just keep her on the hook, make her think the relationship is secure." he said, attempting to hand the device over to you.

"Is the relationship not secure?" you asked, not sure if you should take the phone.

Tip-toeing around an answer, he shrugged, "Just say enough to make it so. You've done it for me before." he pointed out.

"I know...it just doesn't feel right. This is something you should be doing Timmy. What if she mentions something from a text that I sent, and you don't even know what she's talking about?"

"She won't. Don't worry about that, it's not that deep. Just send a few texts back and forth and it'll be done." his nonchalant attitude was a little unnerving.

You shook your head, "It just seems mean, like towards her. She is still just a girl, you know, I think she actually might like you, Timmy."

"It's not that serious, she knows that, but I need her to think that everything is fine."

"I don't want to lie for you anymore, Timmy."

"It's not lying." he insisted.

"It's not genuine. Even if you don't care about Kylie, she is still a person. She doesn't deserve to be deceived."

"I never said I didn't care."

"Well, you don't act like you do! What even is your relationship with her? You never say anything about her."

"You're my assistant, I don't have to talk about my love life with you." he gave you a dirty look.

You scoffed, "You have literally had me do your texting for you, and you want me to do it again! You are such a walking contradiction. I'm not doing it." You were extra firm in your last sentence.

"Whatever. I think it's about quitting time for you today anyway, y/n." he said, grabbing his phone back from you.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you. But you have to admit that I'm right. That's not a way to treat someone. I shouldn't have done it before, but you're my boss and I guess at the time I just wanted to please you."

He nodded, taking a breath and a moment to reflect, "Yeah, well, I'm glad to have you to call me out on my bullshit." He then tapped your arm with his hand. "Okay, get out of here, kid."

You frowned, "Did you just call me 'kid'?"

"Yeah, what?" he frowned right back at you. The mood was lighter now.

"I'm only like a year and a half younger than you, old man, don't call me a kid." you joked, gathering up your things to leave. You liked the playful banter you and he shared sometimes.

"Fine, don't call me an ‘old man’ then." he chuckled. He followed you to the front door as you slung your purse over your shoulder.

“Well, goodnight, boss.” you said, facing him one last time after to opened the door.

He held the door, his arm resting above your head. “Okay, goodnight.” he smiled softly. “Drive safe.” he said simply, then leaned in to leave a peck on your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat, you felt your cheeks flood pink immediately. The tiny spot that his lips had touched was inflamed. You didn’t know what else to do, so you stood there smiling like an idiot.

Timmy closed his eyes, shaking his head and pressing his lips together, “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that. I really don’t.” he was clearly embarrassed; he took about a half step backward. “Let’s just forget about that, okay?” he smiled innocently.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you shrugged, putting your arms behind your back. “It didn’t bother me anyway.”

He grinned, “Good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep, definitely. Don’t forget to read over that speech. You’re running out of time before the awards.”

He mock rolled his eyes, letting his head hang down in annoyance, not at you, but the awards. “Okay.” he whined.

“Bye Timmy.” you giggled, then walked out the door. You weren't sure why he was dreading the Golden Globes so badly.

January 7, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[silkenwinger]

cherry

mdni. part 2 to this; one sided enemies to lovers (?) konig x reader.

You aren't sure this job is good for you, but you would be miserable doing anything else.

That is the unquestionable truth of the matter. Normal society rejects you, then chews on you and spits you out; and you may have taken a bite as well, bitter as it was. There was an attempt, fresh of finishing high school: it was so corroding to you your only other option was joining the army. When that grew unsustainable, too, KorTac. And you are determined to make it work: the unstable people that work with you mostly irritate you, besides some precious exceptions, but you know how they operate. You know how to cope with them.

But God if they don't make it hard!

“As I said before,” you seethe between your teeth, “Novik was spotted by our squad last week in Pashyk. We have reason to believe he might still be there.”

The lieutenant you’re speaking to just listens with dead eyes. He then blinks, and turns to speak to his squad member again.

“We will go ahead as planned…”

Fuck this shit! Not only you’re forced to work alongside another squad, full of people you don’t know, but you’re also going totally unheard. What even is the point of going after an arms dealer if you’re just going to miss him every time because you’re going to the wrong places?

In the ample debrief space, you turn to protest with your side of the room. Roze doesn’t look thrilled either, having her own recon being dismissed so blatantly. It’s harder to tell what the guys are thinking, with that whole mask business, but Horangi has that battle tension in his shoulder, a sign of unreleased disapproval and anger. König… doesn’t look very different. His posture is straight, he’s not hunching to hear the others better. He could be approving the other plan, for all you know. At the end though, you can’t have too much internal conflict, especially when you know the lieutenant knows the commanding general a good deal. Personal preferences and friendships are even more relevant in a PMC than in the normal army, which is saying something.

“It’s like they thrive on doing the wrong thing,” you vent to them later as you make for the mess, fists closed. The other squad had won the battle of deciding your next step, favoured by the higher ups.

“You tell me,” replies Roze, taking her gloves off as she moves to the food stand. “A full night of work dismissed because of their old info.”

“I say we let them do as they please and just sit on the side. We are still getting paid,” says Horangi as he sheds his mask away. Oh, potato salad… 

“I would rather not catch a stray bullet from them, you know how some of their aims are,” you snicker, looking around to make sure none of them are in hearing range. You grab the cutleries.

“It won’t happen,” states a voice you haven’t heard for some minutes now. König’s. He’s standing next to you, as he does often nowadays.

It’s been some weeks since you’ve slept together. You don’t know exactly how your relationship has changed. All you know is that you’ve found it increasingly hard to insult him often and he clings to you like he’s made of velcro (and you are too). And he stuck to you already before. Despite being tempted, so far you’ve managed to not fall into the trap of giving in to your impulses again– both due to your work demands, but also because you have exerted self restraint. Since you know that König has feelings for you, the poor fool, it’s good that you aren’t leading him on. It’s the kindest thing you’ve ever done for him.

Sitting down to eat, you look at König in front of you as he raises his hood to eat. A scowl tugs at your lips, but you distract yourself with food to not think about him. Great, the potato salad is fridge cold as well. And salt less. Could this day even get worse?

“You look stupid,” you say before you can reign it in, pointing at König and his mask. He gulps audibly. Horangi and Roze don’t even mind your insult, as used as they are to them, and keep having their own conversation.

“There’s no way you aren’t getting it dirty, putting it back on every time you take a bite,” you continue, frustrated. There you are again, taking it on König. He should win an award, or fire you.

“You’re right,” he says, tone cheery, “I used to eat in my room so it was cleaner.” The unspoken is so obvious it hits you in the belly, like a well placed punch that takes your breath away. You’re so uncomfortable with the eye contact he’s holding that you look away first.

Why did this have to happen to you. When taken rationally, and without the fumes of lust, what you and König have going on is neither normal nor healthy. He should have a normal companion that elevates and cherishes him, and you should go to something that starts with t and ends with herapy. But no, you’re not going: you went while you were still in the army and it was completely useless and annoying. Plus it’s not even free in KorTac like it was back then.

There’s no other way than to sit down and hope it passes. There’s many women in KorTac; König is a tall and powerful man with a particular kind of charm. Soon hormones will do their part and lead him to other, more well adjusted shores. Far away from you and your unstable moods.

The rest of the afternoon you mope around trying to do something, anything to distract you from your impending mission. You go to the gym and do more series than usual, until your arms burn; you shoot at the range; you beat some poor recruits in hand to hand training; but still it haunts you. It’s both worrying about what you will encounter and anger at being dismissed, unheard. Exacerbating your anxiety is the feeling someone is watching as you walk about the base. You feel eyes on you as you walk through corridors and as you enter rooms. 

The flesh tires before the mind, and so you retreat to your room hoping to sleep at least some hours. Like the internet recommended, you pick up a book to facilitate sleep. See? You can do mental work on your own, no shrink needed. You’re trying to read the same sentence for a minute when someone knocks at your door. You raise your voice as you ask who’s there.

Dogs come back to the place where they’re fed, and much to your chagrin, some men are all dog. And they will scratch at doors.

“It’s me…” a soft voice speaks from the other side. You recognize it immediately and don’t particularly enjoy it being there, but you’ve been trying to get better. So you tell it to enter.

König enters your room like he’s making his way through a mined zone. Not very dissimilar for him when you’re concerned. Still, he lowers his head as he passes through the door and takes some tentative steps. The sound of his boots walking on your carpet is clunky and uncertain. You slide the covers off and sit straight on your bed.

“Is there a problem?” You ask him, neither cold nor warm. You have a hunch he’s not here for any official reason, but you want to hear it from his mouth.

“No, there is no problem,” he rushes to say. You give him no reaction because you already knew that.

Looking at him, so tall and awkward, standing in your room with his hands in front of himself, moves in you something that would have been disgust a month ago. Now it’s something more akin to pity and wanting to strangle him for his way of being. You sigh, already done with his bumbling ways.

“Sit down, will you?” You tell him, and he immediately sits down at the desk chair. It takes a remarkable amount of control to not tell him good boy at that.

“Was it you creeping on me all day?” You ask him directly, like a band aid taken off by surprise. You know the answer to this already as well.

He fiddles a bit with his fingers and then nods, adding a spoken yes on his own. Your eyebrows lower in anger.

“What makes you think that’s a normal thing to do? Seriously, you disgust me at times.” He jiggles his feet, making the chair creak in strain

“I saw you were upset. But I would be making you even more upset, so I thought I would look at you from afar.” His words tumble out of him like the water of a river in flood, like he cannot control his thoughts transforming into spoken phrases.

“I’m not something for you to gawk at.” His attraction to you confuses and upsets you: you cannot understand what you did for him to like you, and maybe that’s what unsettles you. That there’s a whole world out there that sees you and chooses to perceive you in a way you cannot control. Dislike, scorn, indifference: these are reactions you can understand applied to your person, but that König would instead choose to pick like is unbearable. 

“I just wanted to see you were well,” he confesses, his voice soft. For some reason, he keeps digging his grave even deeper. You feel blood rush to your face.

“You’re unbelievable. You hide yourself all the time and I have to be seen and controlled? You’re the most hypocritical person I know.” His head snaps lower now, and you think to yourself this is it. This is the time you get to break his heart completely, that you make yourself unredeemable in his eyes. No longer a fussy creature he can please by doing what she says, but a fully blooded woman that doesn’t deserve his care. Leave her to her devices, his brain should be telling him. This woman is worthless and a constant headache.

Your blood chills in your veins when his hands raise to go to his nape. The fabric of his hood falls in front, a waterfall that stops to reveal the unknown. You find König’s eyes living on a man’s face. 

He’s scarred, that much is true. His nose might have been broken as well. You’re speechless to the fact that he chose to take off his mask, and instead of saying anything dumb, you decide it’s your turn to gawk. His hair is longer than normal in the military, this much you guessed right, and a pleasing auburn that matches his body hair, for as little as you saw them that other time. He looks nervous, and younger than you know he is. Overall, you like his face. It matches his personality: rough in exterior facade, showing that he’s been through a lot, but soft in behavior and gestures. 

“This way,” he manages to let out, “you see me as well.”

This idiot. He’s making you do it again. You’ve really tried, but it’s like he bewitches you.

You jump out of the bed and cross the room in three wide steps. König doesn’t even know what hits him when you’re already sitting on his lap. It’s quite spacious.

“This doesn’t count as an apology for stalking me,” you tell him, inflexible, your legs straddling his. But then you start holding his face in your hands. He looks like you’ve hung the moon for him, and while the sensation is heady, it’s also uncomfortable. You distract yourself from it by kissing him. You start slow, more like nibbling at his lips, uncharted territory. He tries reciprocating, thankfully not using his tongue yet, just pushing his lips against yours, chaste and innocent. You laugh against his mouth and he starts giggling too, a weirdly intimate touch that you weren’t expecting. You’re no longer laughing at him so much as you’re laughing together.

“Follow my lead,” you tell him simply, and he nods, nose brushing against yours. You begin kissing him again, this time for real, your tongue tracing first his lips and then the inside of his mouth. When it slides against his own, you urge him to reciprocate. He does, albeit shyly, but when you start really going at it he gets the hang of it. Truly, an adapting genius. You run your hands in his hair, soft and smooth, while he keeps his hand diligently on your hips, straying neither up nor down. You guess, for his patience again shown when you mistreat him in public, that he deserves a reward of sorts. When your hands move away he makes a strangled sound, but shuts up real quickly when he sees them grab the hem of your t-shirt to take it off. Already braless for bed, your tits go from being completely unknown to him to being in front of his eyes. The expression on his face, unguarded and unrestrained, is almost laughable again, but you’re feeling neglected and you don’t want to turn this into a full bullying session.

“Touch me. Don’t be shy,” you tell him, index finger in front of his lips, and again he nods, resolute. He cups your breast like it’s the holy grail, and that’s exactly what you were afraid of. That you’re an idol instead of a human being to him. Even if it’s a flattering idea.

“I won’t break, you goof,” you berate him but guide him as well, putting your hand over his, showing him how you like to be touched. The other you grab to put on your lower back. Instructed by you, his touches become more real, more vivid; he runs his hand against your side, your hip, then goes back to grope your chest. The sensation makes you move forward, grinding your body against his, and your wet pussy sends a sting of pleasure up your body from the contact against his crotch. König moves to suck your nipple then, now dedicated to covering your chest with care. His suckles are gentle but intense, a motion that is never too rough nor mild; when he is done with one breast he switches to the other without any input, and you smile, ruffling his hair a bit. He looks up at you then, face adorably red and flushed, and moves back to kiss you on the mouth again. Taken by surprise, you emit an embarrassing sound that wakes you up. You break off the kiss, drizzle of spit briefly linking you two, and rush to get off him.

His expressions are so clear now that he’s masked. And right now he’s looking at you like you just burned his house to the ground, sweaty, flushed and miserable. Unable to stand that look on his face, you clear your throat.

“Get on the bed,” you only say, and cringe a bit at the high pitched tone of your voice. König lights up again at your words, like you’ve built his house again and it’s even bigger and more splendid than it was before. He walks with his legs wide, visibly working around his erection, and the sight almost makes you facepalm. Thankfully, you can busy yourself by taking off your pants, doing it so rushedly your thumb’s nail makes a red scratch on your thigh. Watching you from the bed, König starts taking off his clothes. You didn’t tell him to do that but you will grant him this much after turning away from his kiss. He awaits, loyally, sitting on the opposite edge.

“Well? Lay down,” you tell him from the edge of the bed, bracing yourself for the next act. It’s something that you’ve thought about these past days, but to think it will happen now that he’s maskless prickles on your spine. Once you’re done, you turn to see his feet are right next to you, and he’s not quite laying down but more like sitting up with his legs stretched out. These military beds weren’t built for men like König. 

You crawl over to him; you’re not trying to be particularly seductive, but maybe you’re doing it anyway, because his mouth is slightly open, oafish look on his face and all. So irritating– you can’t wait to make it go away. You reach his midsection on all fours, and your hand locks around his cock like you’ve done it a hundred times. He’s leaking all over, the poor thing. His leg twitches: you observe his expression as you pump him a couple of times and, satisfied by it changing to something less stupid, you straddle him again. You’re unsure you can take him without any preparation, but being on top allows you to change your mind quickly. Guiding his cock inside you, you flinch a little at the start and stop midway through, taking a few breaths. You’re plenty wet, and you’ve taken it before, but it’s still a challenge. Thankfully you’re made of stern stuff.

“I’m sorry…” says König, and you could really slap him for saying something this stupid while you’re trying to put his dick in you.

“Don’t be,” you reassure him anyway, huffing. That’s on you for being greedy. Finally, after a while of praying and relaxing and moving a bit after bit, you can take him to base. You sigh as he fills you whole and more, and he moans a contented noise. One of his hands comes to hold your hips, gently, gallantly, as if to say Do what you must and I’ll be there. Readjusting your legs, you start riding him. This has been your plan all along, but the feel of his long, hard cock inside you is more overwhelming than expected, and maybe you’ve missed him just a touch. Moaning, you grasp at his chest, until one of your hands grabs his neck and you dig your nails into the pale strong meat of it. König shouts, a sudden and sharp noise– you grind against his body to give something to your neglected clit. 

“You– you can, hngh, move too you know…” you tell him, out of breath and aching sweetly as you bounce on his cock. You want him to feel involved as well… not like he’s a toy you use to get off. 

“Alright,” he says, smiling at you like he doesn’t have a worry in the world, and you feel an undercurrent of shame again. His heels point on the mattress then, and he starts matching your thrusts from the bottom, the head of his cock reaching a point so far inside you you’re almost certain has never been reached before. Your moans have become needy cries as you match König’s movements, his grunting almost quiet, concentrated on fucking the way you want. Before you know it, two strong arms have bound you by your torso, and your chest makes contact with König’s. He’s holding you, like you’re making love and not taking out frustrations on each other… You could scream, but the change in position and angle has you curling your toes even more, pleasure mounting inside of you. König is panting in your neck, a desperate noise, and you join your arms to hold him, too, his breath hot against your body. Soon enough of his touch, of this spiked beast being tamed by his kindness, you come, letting out a disjointed mewl. Feeling your pussy constrict him even more, König hurries his last strokes, coming inside you with his head in your chest. His rumbling drawl sends rippling tingles all over your body.

You lay there on top of him for a while. Maybe you’re also a bit scared to look him in the eye after kissing and holding him. You reason this is what he’s wanted all along, and maybe you’ve been wanting something along these lines too. Finally, your knees done for, you slide out of him, leaving a mess on your thighs and his, and try to stand but miserably fail, knees buckling. Humiliated, you angrily jump over to lay down next to him. Only you could ruin your post orgasm bliss… all by yourself. Unexpectedly, König speaks.

“Can I hold you?” He asks, tone dangerously sleepy. Your bed is not equipped for two grown adults of your size sleeping on it; and your odds are not good against König in your sleep. The chances of you falling off are very high. But since you can’t go anywhere for a while, you might as well oblige him.

“Yes,” you tell him, but snuggle to him before he can do it to you. His hands are greedy now, too: he brushes your hair and your neck and your ass, reverent, back to his worshipping mood. He takes his time exploring your body, blue eyes dragging over the details, your scars, your birthmarks. Embarrassed by his lavish exploration, you hide your head in his neck. You want him to lay down more comfortably, but maybe he prefers this to having his feet hang off.

“Oh, I didn’t tell you, but I’m on birth control,” you mutter against his muscles. It’s very stupid to tell him this after he already came in you twice, but considering you’ve sprung it on him very suddenly both times, you cannot blame a guy for not asking.

“I know!” He exclaims instead, joyful. “I heard you saying so to Roze three months and five days ago, in the helicopter!” He taps his long fingers against your back, maybe to the beat of a song or a lullaby, and you shudder. Again, his obsession for you is simply inexplicable. The mean streak returns as your lungs fill, like a cat ready to scratch.

“You’re freaking me out,” you grimace and take your face off from his neck, trying to lay down on your back as much as you can in the limited space, back arched. His laugh is light and airy, reverberating through your simple room. It tugs a smile off you too and it makes you feel like everything will be alright, at work… and maybe with König, too.

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

lowk FUCKED up, butttttttttttttt would any of the comic book yanderes lobotomize their darling? we always talkin about willingness and shit saur... ya know!! just a lil off the top if ykwim

𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐂 𝐁𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐄𝐍 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐋𝐎𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒…

!!! GN reader, take a wild guess (lobotomies), neurological terms used, basic delusional behaviors, unethical uses of superpowers, unethical practices in general, mentions of brain dead/vegetative/mentally handicapped reader, Hal’s part briefly describes actual lobotomy procedures, Joker jumpscare in Harvey’s, gaslighting, a small history lesson here and there, themes of forced drug abuse, Tim Drake being a good candidate for the Saw franchise.

GRRRRAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHGHHHRRR. Anon, come over here so I can give you a lil forehead smooch. I’ve always wanted to write a yan lobotomy blurb, but… I didn’t really know what direction I wanted to go. Or who to write about. The idea is was legit, “hee hee, wouldn’t it be silly if there was a yandere lobotomy fic” and that’s about it. So I guess this is my chance to get some feelings out about that, yay!!

A few of these are a bit longer than usual cuz this type of shit is my jam. I also didn’t know if you wanted me to rank them on least to most likely, so shoot me a follow up ask if that’s what you wanted. Mwah!!

Bruce Wayne: Definitely not off the table. I’m willing to bet Thomas Wayne had at least one book on lobotomies; just an antique hardback that makes for an interesting read. I can see young Bruce sitting on his father’s lap in the study, tiny hands tracing over the book’s old diagrams as Thomas lovingly describes all of the morbid things they’d do to people (you know, classic father/son bonding activities). Who knew it would actually come in handy one day? Moral repercussions be damned, my man can pull off a sick lobotomy. There are of course factors he has no control over — such as your own brain plasticity and cognitive function ��� but that’s not exactly his fault, now is it? What your brain decides to do post-lobotomy has nothing to do with him (jokes aside, he’d be devastated if you were totally fucked up afterwards… though he’d easily adapt).

Bucky Barnes: I think he’s had enough mind-meddling of his own to give this a hard pass. It doesn’t matter how bad you are; he’s not doing anything to your brain. You’ll learn to behave on your own accord. And thank god, cuz bro would NOT make a good brain surgeon. He’d brick you so fast. Also, fun fact, the Soviets were actually the first to ban lobotomies (if memory serves correct; Google is backing me up, so… do with that what you will). I don’t know if this carries over to the KGB and their little secret evil organization side shenanigans, but yeah. Let it be known that the chances of lobotomized Bucky went down by… like… 3%.

Clark Kent: At first, I was about to say no, but then I remembered the Justice Lords from the JL cartoon, and… you know what? Maybe. It would be a very low chance, but if it’s gotten to the point where you’re a danger to yourself, Clark would have no other choice. What else can he do? Your safety always comes first and foremost. While the two dots singed into your forehead would raise a few brows, it’s not like he lets you out much anyway. He’d spend a long time trying to cope with the guilt. He did this to save you… he just had to save you from yourself. At least his heat vision is precise enough that he wouldn’t fuck it up. Now all that’s left to do is hope that you turn out okay. He’ll consider it a job well done if you can at least still smile at him.

Dick Grayson: He really isn’t that much different from Bruce, is he? Yeah, he’d do it. Maybe with a few more reservations, but he’d still do it. I think it’s in your best interest if you don’t let him spiral this far, because he’s not against the idea of you being in a completely vegetative state. Yeah, it would suck that you aren’t as active of a participant as he’d want you to be, but having complete control over your care is good enough for him. He’ll easily let his own delusions fill that void. Honestly, a part of him might even hope you turn out with a mental capacity of a toddler. It’s the best of both worlds; while you can still respond to your environment, you also rely heavily on his care. Perfectly pliable in his hands… a dream come true! Yay!

Hal Jordan: Nah. He’s good. Last he checked, he’s not the most qualified person in the world to quite literally poke around in someone’s brain. Hell, even the thought of it makes him sick. No drilling holes into skulls, no skewering needles through eye sockets, no thanks! He’ll leave that up to the people who can stomach the grosser shit. Now, is the thought of a quick operation that theoretically fixes your bratty behavior tempting? Sure. But Hal’s not an idiot; he knows the risks, and those risks just don’t seem worth it. There’s a reason lobotomies are unethical nowadays. Unless the topic comes up in some sort of show or movie, the thought wouldn’t even cross his mind.

Harvey Dent: Neither Harvey nor Two Face are all that keen on the idea. They might’ve done some fucked up shit to you (definitely Two Face more than Harvey), but a lobotomy? That’s just a new level of fucked up. A Joker level of fucked up, even (and the thought of being compared to that piece of shit makes both sides of Dent want to light up an entire room). Besides, there’s no one on the entire planet he’d trust to pull off a procedure like that on you. While he might know a guy or two who would totally do it in this day and age, he’d sooner put a bullet in their brain than let them fuck around with yours. That being said, don’t think you’re totally out of the woods. At the end of the day, it’s all up to the coin, remember?

Jaime Reyes: Would Jaime? No. Absolutely not. It’s unethical, it’s fucked, and it’s also just gross. Anything to do with surgery makes him feel extremely squeamish, and he might actually pass out if he thinks about it too hard. But would Khaji Da? Yeah. Probably. Though it would have to be an extreme scenario, where you’re just completely beyond controlling. Khaji Da knows the risks, and while he’ll execute the technical aspects flawlessly, the results are naturally unpredictable. It would be unfortunate if the scarab lost its host’s mate. Your poor little noggin is at the mercy of Jaime’s resolve. Is he in full control? Then don’t worry, his incoherent mutterings about severing connections in your prefrontal cortex are nothing but his weird intrusive thoughts. But… if he isn’t… uh-oh.

Peter Parker: Nope. No lobotomies here. He’s quite aware of the repercussions, both morally and practically. Honestly, he doesn’t even see most of your behaviors as something in need of correcting in the first place. Maybe if you were causing yourself any sort of harm, but other than that, he can put up with a lot of your bullshit. Talking back? Name calling? Hitting and kicking? Straight-up just being abusive? As long as you don’t leave him, he’ll work with it! Peter is the exact definition of a pushover yandere. You can get away with a lot, and that includes not getting lobotomy!

Reed Richards: I can see him pulling one off. Is it the most desirable outcome? Definitely not. But there’s only so much he can put up with before he finally puts his foot down. If you’re the insubordinate type, you’ve probably given him at least 17 heart attacks by now, and it’s only natural he’d come up with a way to curb those behaviors. See, me personally, if I were to get a lobotomy from any of these men, I’m calling up Reed. He’s no neurologist, but I’m sure he can whip up something to study your brain waves and accurately predict the outcome of a lobotomy. Plus, he’d probably have the safest environment and instruments for the operation. You won’t feel a thing, trust. Now let’s hope months of collecting data and trial runs on some less-than-willing test subjects pay off!

Remy LeBeau: Yeah, no… probably not. Thanks to Sinister, he knows first hand how invasive a lobotomy is. You’d have to be really unstable for him to even consider that idea. He definitely has the means to do it — all he has to do is put a finger up to your forehead and burn through your frontal lobe — but having the resolve to do it is a different story. While he might’ve turned out semi-okay post-lobotomy, there’s no telling what would happen after yours. Way too risky. Only something to consider as a totally nuclear option. So don’t make him do something he’d rather not, okay? It’d be better for you, better for him, better for everyone.

Scott Summers: Like Gambit, he’s a victim of Sinister’s fuckery but 10 times worse. I don’t think he’d be able to stomach the thought of doing anything surgical to you no matter how disobedient you are. But… maybe we can make this a little interesting. Scott’s attracted some hella weird attention over the years… who’s to say someone like Sinister wouldn’t get his hands on you and do a little fucking around? Maybe Goblin Queen? A particularly pissed off Phoenix? While Scott himself wouldn’t dare lobotomize you, I think there’s some people out there who would. Or, hear me out: mind controlled Cyclops almost crushing your skull with an optic blast. It would be more blunt force than an actual lobotomy, but I’m willing to bet it would fuck up your cognitive function all the same. Despite the immense horror and guilt he’d feel afterwards, a small part of him can see it as a blessing in disguise (depending on how you turn out, that is).

Steve Rogers: Honestly, Cap was frozen at the funniest point in history ever. The amount of lobotomies increased exponentially from the 40s to 50s (mind you, WWII ended in 1945), and then antipsychotics were introduced as a more ethical way to treat mental illness, which Steve wouldn’t know shit about. Unfortunately for all of my fellow sickos out there, lobotomies were probably never a thing Steve liked about the 40s, but allow me to offer an alternative. Steve thinks there’s clearly something wrong with your mental health; why else would you act like you hate him? Luckily for him, this is the 21st century, where people know much more about mental illnesses and disorders. He could easily pull some strings as Captain America and get you the help you so obviously need. So, I guess the question is, how many different prescriptions of antipsychotics can one take at once? Guess you’ll find out!

Tim Drake: So… uh… y’all better pray that he doesn’t get any intrusive thoughts about this shit. And if he does, PRAY that he snaps out of his weird fit before it’s too late. DO NOT LET BRO COOK. I don’t think he’d totally fuck it up or anything, but the chances of him spiraling and performing more than one are dangerously high. You might find the out hard way just how much poking and prodding a brain can take before it shuts down. Depending on how manic he is, he might actually lobotomize you while you’re conscious. No anesthesia, no painkillers, just him pouncing on you with a hammer and pick. You will be rawdogging this lobotomy like god intended. That’s when he’d fuck your shit up. Unless you want him to brick your brain, you better fight him off and wrestle those tools out of his hands. The post-manic episode clarity would be insane. “Uh… sorry I tried to give you a lobotomy.” Cool, man. Okay.

Wally West: Wally “if you need to give someone a lobotomy, that’s honestly a skill issue” West. Who needs that shit when you’re THE master manipulator? It would take some god-tier perception (or paranoia) to see through a fraction of his act, and even so, what good will any of that do when he’s got everyone else wrapped around his finger? Fighting against him is a dangerous game. If need be, he’ll play the loving caretaker while you’re the loony one. Poor Wally… he’s trying to help you through your issues, and this is the thanks he gets? Wow. Now, for the sake of a little exploration, I think it’s important to note that Wally could theoretically go through with it (by phasing his hand through your skull and solidifying at the right angle), but that sounds way too unstable to pull off. It would probably run the risk of turning your brain into a soup, and I’m pretty sure that kills people.

[hbpseverus]

for all that us snape fans say how we love his character because he is flawed and complex, i find it disappointing how many of us can't extend that line of thinking towards lily, while pretending that young severus was entirely innocent. i've noticed this a lot recently and it's been bothering me quite a bit so i've felt the need to defend lily, or to be exact, analyse the downfall of their relationship without basically giving her all the blame and instead looking at both characters and especially lily more critically.

so. let's talk about the conversation between her and severus after the werewolf prank. some snape fans harshly criticise her in this scene because she insists that james saved severus and doesn't acknowledge how serious this prank was, while insisting that at least the marauders don't use dark magic.

and i agree that she should have been more on severus' side in this case. after all he could have died or gotten seriously injured, turned into a werewolf etc and she downplays the severity of the situation and generally doesn't acknowledge how the marauders bullied severus very much. so yes, she could have been a better friend here.

but at the same time, from her perspective, she was already noticing that severus was spending more time with his housemates, all of them aspiring death eaters, how he had always looked up to lucius and was slowly heading down that same path. how he didn't truly disapprove of his housemates disgusting actions towards muggleborns - her own kind. even though it's not entirely logical, since we see through the marauders that light magic can be used to do harm aswell, this also explains her dislike of dark arts, which these (aspiring) death eaters all were fond of and using to do awful things to her friends (and hogwarts also pretty much teaches that dark magic is pure evil). by this point she had most likely also experienced discrimination at hogwarts for being muggleborn. she knew the situation in the wizarding world wasn't favourable for her, and now her best friend was starting to agree with those people?

the next notable event was of course snapes worst memory (sigh, here i go talking about it for the millionth time). and i really don't like how some people on our side of the fandom talk about lily in this scene (of course, this is not all of us).

first of all we saw that she initially smiled upon seeing severus be bullied, and yes, this was honestly quite disgusting. we know that severus saw this and was rightfull hurt, and this very well could be the reason why he snapped at her. but that is her only 'crime' in this scene. because she then does quickly turn against james and this entire crowd and defends severus. only for james to insult and threaten her, and severus to call her a 'filthy little mudblood'.

now, people say she should have done more to defend severus, that her attempt was quite half-hearted. i don't know. maybe she could have done more, but she did tell the marauders to stop, you can't say she didn't try. some say she should have hexed james herself or bring up her prefect role (although i'm not sure it's confirmed she was one at this time). but say she was a prefect, her job would be to stop fighting, which she tried to do, not to get involved in fights herself. and you can tell that james is entirely dismissive of her and clearly won't let her stop him no matter what, even threatening her in the process. lily also genuinely seems to still hate him at this point in time, she is described to have been disgusted with him to the point where even harry questions his parents marriage. so i don't believe it's fair to say she was just 'flirting' with james here.

furthermore, people believe she should have forgiven severus for being called a mudblood. i used to agree that it wasn't that serious, but i feel differently now. because it wasn't just a word, it wasn't a one time mistake or slip up or even the first time she noticed that he was slowly turning into a future death eater. that's why i brought up their conversation after the prank. lily knows that severus' descend into the death eaters arms had been going on for months, years even. being called - not even just mudblood, but hearing the words "i don't need help from a filthy little mudblood like her" out of the mouth of her former best friend was just the final nail in the coffin. it was her confirmation that severus was finally too far down that road, and she, as a muggleborn, could no longer justify surrounding herself with him. so she abandons him at the scene, and i can't blame her one bit.

of course this post is not meant to be severus bashing in any way, he is and always will be my favorite character, but i don't enjoy pretending he was completely innocent, even his younger self. this is also not to excuse the marauders, as their bullying never had anything to do with severus possibly being a death eater and was really just for fun and because they could, and because he was an easy victim. but i truly believe that lily deserves some grace and also to be analysed as a complex character like severus, rather than painting her as one dimensional, either fully good or fully bad.

severus becoming a death eater is the tragic result of his background and surroundings, and when we analyse him we factor all of this in. lily was wealthier, had a better family, was pretty, smart and popular and had a good support system in and out of hogwarts. she couldn't understand why severus made the choices he did. maybe as an adult she would have looked back and understood it all better. but as it was, she was just a teenage girl watching her best friend turn against people like her and not knowing what to do about that. and what's also important to me to point out is that it was not her job to try and stop this, to try and fix him or whatever. it was first and foremost the adults in severus' life who failed him over and over again, not lily.

finally a lot of us can't understand how lily ended up marrying her former friends abuser and use this as an argument against her, but i honestly don't want to go too deep into this topic. i personally strongly dislike this relationship, because james treated lily herself like shit too, aswell as other people. we have to believe that he truly did change, even if there is not much to prove this. even if he did, i personally wouldn't have been able to forgive him. but i don't believe that marrying james makes lily a bad person by extension or anything. ultimately, if she was able to find happiness, i'm happy for her.

[chukys-mouthguard]

Memories Missed

day 3 of the 2024 NHL advent calendar 🎄

1.1k words

genre -> angst

featuring -> cam york x female reader

summary -> when a snow storm hits, cam can’t find a way to make it in time for christmas

note -> it’s cam’s birthday so i had to get this done and posted in honor of his special day 🥳

Quickly darting around the kitchen, you were making sure everything was prepped for Christmas dinner. It was the first year you’d opted to host your family, along with Cam’s, and you were nervous to say the least.

Why you chose to cook ninety percent of the dishes you didn’t understand, but somehow you managed to pull it off. Your parents had arrived earlier than the other guests, so your mom could help in the kitchen and your dad could watch football.

“Anything else you need right now?”

Scanning the kitchen counters then checking the timer on the stove, you shook your head as you sighed.

“Nope, I think we did it.”

A soft smile crept across your lips as you felt relieved, now you could finally sit down and relax before guests started to trickle in.

“Oh, it’s Cam, I’ll be right back!”

You jumped up with a smile as you excused yourself to the front room of the house to take his call.

“Hi baby! You should smell all the food I’ve been cooking, it all turned out so good! And the house looks beautiful, I’m happy you convinced me to host. It’s gonna be amazing.”

He softly chuckled before he let out a sigh, immediately erasing the smile that was plastered on your face.

“That’s fantastic baby, I knew you could pull it off. But, there’s a problem.”

You felt your heart sink, just as things were going according to plan they were about to come crashing down.

“We can’t fly out, we are stuck as of right now. No timeline for when we’d be cleared to get out of here.”

The winter weather had picked up, but you’d never once thought about the possibility of Cam not making it home in time for Christmas. Thankfully you hadn’t done your makeup yet because the tears that began streaming down your cheeks certainly would’ve ruined it.

“You’re joking…Cam, your whole family is coming! My whole family is coming, my parents are here. What are we supposed to do?”

“Well you’re not going to cancel if that’s what you’re thinking!”

His tone was a bit sarcastic as he spat back at you, his frustrations with the delay obvious as he normally wasn’t one to argue.

“No of course not, but I’ve been looking forward to this for over a month Cam! Us hosting everyone here, and the memories we’d make in our new house. It was supposed to be special and you’re not even going to be here for it!”

“What do you suggest I do babe? I can’t make the snow stop, I can’t rent a car and drive it would be more than a day until I’m home if I did that. I’m sorry okay? You think I’m happy about this? Missing getting to share this day with your family and mine all in one place? But there’s nothing I can do, I’m sorry.”

You let out a sigh as you tried to hold back any things you might spit out of anger. The last you wanted was to have an argument with Cam before he’d be getting on a plane in this weather.

“Just, get home safe. I’ll see you when I see you.”

-

The dinner had gone off without a hitch, everyone being understanding of Cam missing out though you were still frustrated by it. It was one of the aspects of his job you hated. Road trips that turned into longer ones because of shitty weather, Cam missing out on birthdays and holidays. Missing out on so many memories that the two of you could share.

Every time your phone lit up it was yet another text about a delay. Eventually you’d stopped checking, not wanting to upset yourself even further. Rather trying to enjoy everyone opening their gifts and the happiness that was filling your home.

As the night had come to an end, you willingly accepted the help of both your mom and Cam’s to get everything mostly cleaned up before you headed off to bed.

“You know honey, he didn’t intentionally do it. Just remember that. He wanted to be here tonight.”

As you wiped down the counter you softly sighed, keeping your thoughts to yourself as you knew she was only trying to help ease the situation. Though there was nothing that could change how you felt, regardless if Cam missing Christmas was out of his control or not.

You’d said goodbye to both sets of parents before changing into your set of Christmas pajamas to which Cam had a matching pair, then curled up on the couch as you watched the twenty-four hour marathon of A Christmas Story; Cam’s favorite Christmas Day activity.

The sound of the tv had muffled the noise of the front door unlocking and kept you in your slumber as Cam made his way into the house to find you.

Fast asleep on the couch, Christmas pajamas adorning your frame as you curled up with a blanket. Cam smiled to himself as he looked from you to the beautifully decorated tree, presents still filling up the space beneath it as you’d left all of your gifts to open with him.

Not wanting to wake you just yet, he headed into the kitchen to find a note on the counter.

“Cam, there’s a plate of all your favorites in the microwave. I made sure to save you lots of cookies as well, but no cookies before dinner! Merry Christmas Cam. Love y/n.”

Cam laughed as he was mid bite of a cookie by the time he’d read your order of no cookies before dinner, you knew him too well.

He felt awful for missing the holiday and all of the effort you’d put into it. Not getting to see your families come together in your new home that you both worked so hard for, it made him wish sometimes that he didn’t have a career that took him out on crazy long roadtrips. Missing countless birthdays, holidays, or even just losing out on time with you and family. But he also knew that his career was how he was able to get this house with you, to have the tree overflowing with gifts for you and your families. And while he knew you would get over being upset with him, he knew you had every right to be. Sure you signed up for this, but it didn’t make it any easier. You’re human, you have feelings. And he knew how much you were looking forward to this day, but he dropped the ball.

“Baby…y/n, baby. I’m home. Merry Christmas.”

[megjameswrites]

someday

Daryl x reader, reader POV, witchy!reader, crystals

Summery: reader has a crystal necklace and a belief in the power of the shiny rocks. Daryl has an interest in reader and a mouth that sometimes gets him in trouble.

Atlanta quarry era

“Any rocks can protect if ya throw ‘em hard enough.”

“Whatcha always do that for?”

I blinked, coming back to earth abruptly to find myself twisting the chain of my necklace between my fingers. I stopped, heat flooding up my cheeks, and shrugged. “Habit, I guess. Didn’t realize I was.”

Daryl’s brow was furrowed, a small wrinkle as he stared down at me. I shifted under the intensity of his eyes, like I always did, and hoped he’d stop staring soon. I reached back up, fiddling again automatically, before shoving it impatiently under my shirt and staring down at my hands.

“What’s it about?”

“Huh?”

Articulate. Great. Fantastic job, I informed myself snidely. Oh well.

“The book. Seemed into it.”

Why was he talking to me? I wondered, a little desperately. He’d ignored everyone since he arrived at the quarry. Everyone except his asshole brother, that was, and spent most of his time in the woods killing things- not that I wasn’t grateful to be eating- and now he was…. Chatting?

“Oh. Um. It’s Dale’s,” I admitted, somewhat lamely. “Some thriller. Already figured out the killer.”

He scoffed, hint of a smile on his lips. “Ain’t a zombie, right?”

That got a laugh from me, and he cracked a bigger smile back. Then he jerked his chin toward the necklace I was somehow spinning again, despite not knowing I’d reached for it. “What’s them stones? Pretty. Just weird shapes.”

I grimaced. This was the part where he, like everyone else, would decide I was crazy. “They’re… crystals?”

“Say that like it’s a question,” he said mildly.

He was right; I had. Damn it. Before the dead started rising- a sure fire indication that magic or some equivalent was real, thank you very much- I’d been vocal about my beliefs. Now… it seemed unimportant in the face of survival. People looked at me more strangely now than they ever had before all this.

But I still believed, now more than ever, and I hated the hesitation in my voice.

“They’re crystals,” I repeated, firmly and confidently. “I believe certain stones have innate abilities to protect, to heal, to boost energy, etc, and- what?”

I broke off at his mutter, eyebrows raising when color flooded his cheeks this time.

“Sorry,” he muttered. “I said, ‘any rocks can protect if ya throw ‘em hard enough’.”

I burst into laughter, harder and more genuine than any I’d done since the world ended. When I got myself under control, he was studying me again, those eyes more fierce a blue than the sapphire in the evil eye bracelet that had broken when I’d fought my way out of Atlanta.

“Like that. Ya laugh. Should do it more.” He gestured at my neck again when I blinked, shocked silent. “Them crystals. What’r they for?”

“Protection,” I managed, holding up the black obsidian before switching to the rose quartz, “and attracting love.”

I wasn’t thinking about my words, too focused on his casual assertion that I should laugh more. When they’d left my lips, I wished for a minute the ground would swallow me whole. Why hadn’t I just said “self-confidence”? It was equally valid, and far less embarrassing, and-

“Huh,” Daryl grunted. “They work?”

I shrugged. “Ain’t dead yet.”

“Fair enough. How ‘bout the love one?”

I looked away, rather deliberately opening the book in my lap so my cheeks wouldn’t flame again. “Don’t know. I’ll let you know someday, I guess.”

“Yeah,” he said quietly. “Someday.”

[qqhez]

Hiiii! :))

This is kinda one of my first times requesting, so I don't know if I'll do this right, so please bare with me 🙏😞

Since you're asking for requests, I thought about a fem!reader x Hwang In-Ho smut one shot? I don't know if you're willing to do aus, but maaaybe a professor!Hwang In-Ho x student!reader au (legal ofc) where the reader is in love with his professor and thinks he doesn't know (he has heard her talk with her friends before) because she's well behaved and all of these things (the professor definitely knows, he just finds it cute and she's much younger). He isn't giving any signs of liking her back, so she thinks he's oblivious (she's grateful for that), till the final day of classes where the professor is giving the final grades, and she got the best of the class, so he manages to give her grades to her the last, keeping them alone in the classroom? And then confessions and smut ensues?

You can change it to your liking, sorry if I wrote too much :')

TYSM IN ADVANCE 💕💕

-🪐 anon (since now)

OMG THIS IS AN AMAZINGGG IDEA THANK YOU SM 🪐 I LOVE YOU❤️❤️

TEACHERS PET // HWANG IN-HO

Pairing: student!reader x teacher!Hwang In-Ho

Warnings: smut so 18+, teacher x student, no protection (I forgor), praising, lowk ddlg idfk, huge age gap, creampie, ig thats it?

An: shiiiii im sorry if this feels really rushed🙁 school just started again and I’m so tired😪 pls enjoy🙏 also omg I watched Bungee Jumping Of Their Own today and I cried so much :(

In school everyone knew you as the kind and well behaving girl. All the teachers liked you and you were top of your class. But between your friends you were known for having a crush on your teacher. All of your friends knew about it, because you cant keep your mouth shut. But what can you do when your teacher is hot as hell and just soo dreamy. In fact you spent many classes just dreaming about him and not getting any work done.

Right after the bell rings, In-ho’s students slowly arrive in his classroom. He’s usually at the door greeting the students, and of course looking for his favourite student who is of course you. He tried not to smile at you as you walked in and sat with your friends. And of course, again, you spent the whole class just looking at him.

At the end of the class he got up and said to the whole class, “I’m really glad that I got to teach you all this year. Now I’ll give you all your final tests back. When you hear your name, come here for a moment and after that you’re free to leave.” You were sat at the very back of the classroom with your friends. You actually wanted to sit at the very front, so you could be close to In-Ho, but your friends dragged you to the back.

Finally, he called your name. You were the very last one in the room. You quickly got up and walked over to his desk. “Here. Good job.” In-Ho said as he handed the paper to you. He watched you smile, when you saw that you got the best grade possible. “You’re my top student.” He told you, as he got up and gave you a little pat on the shoulder. Right when you’re about to thank him, he interrupts you. “I need to talk to you about something”

As you heard those words leave his mouth, it felt like your heart skipped a beat. ‘Is this it? Does he like me?’ Were the only things in your mind. For three years, you had been giving him signs that you were really in love with him. But you never got anything back from him, until now.

“I’ve heard what you’ve said about me to your friends.” He said with a grin on his face. “Oh! Sir I’m so sorry-” you manage to say before he interrupts you again. “It’s okay. I have those feelings towards you too.” He said and stood up from his chair and taking a step closer to you. He lifted your chin up with his fingers and looked lovingly in your eyes. You hesitated for a moment but still crashed your lips together with him. You started to make out on his desk.

You made out for some time and slowly, you pulled away from him even though it was really difficult. “What if Someone catches us?”you asked while you were still holding his face in your hands. “Look.” He pointed at the clock. “You’re not my student anymore, so it’s okay.” He reassured you. ”you still wanna do this?“ he asked, playing his hands on your hips. You looked in his eyes and said ”Yes.”

He pulled you by your hips and turned you around, so that now you were bending over his desk. He put most of his weight on you so you couldn’t get away from him and slowly kissed you down from your neck to your thighs. This was easy for him, because you usually wore a skirt to school, or at least in the summer. When he lifted your skirt up to reveal your panties, a small ‘aww’ left his mouth, when he saw the cute pink panties you were wearing.

“My god.. you’re soaking wet! You really want me this bad?”

You tried to hide your face from all this embarrassment. “Mmmmhm” was all you could let out. You couldn’t even think about what’s gonna happen next, when your panties were pulled down and his fingers were inside of you. You couldn’t help but moan. “Shhhh.. it’s okay…” he whispered while coming up to kiss your neck again.

He pulled his fingers out of you, so that he could unbuckle his belt and pull his pants down. Few seconds without his fingers got you all whiny and desperate to feel him again. “Are you ready?” He said while stroking his cock a few times, even though it was hard already. “Yes.. please, be gentle..” you whined as he began to spread your folds.

He managed to only get the tip in, and you were already a moaning mess. He made sure he was being really gentle with you and always checking that you were okay. “Good girl. You’re doing so good.” He praised you as he started thrusting into you harder.

You kept gripping on the papers on his desk as you came closer to your orgasm. The way he was grunting and letting out small moans made you sure that he was close too. “Mm im gonna come-” he grunted in your ear as he sped up his thrusts. And that was it. You both came at the same time.

He waited for a small moment and before he pulled out,he kissed you on the lips again. ”my baby, you did so good. Tomorrow at the same time?” He asked as you pulled your panties back up. “That’s a deal.”you said and kissed him again.

[thevoidstaredback]

Danny couldn’t tell you when he joined the team. The first time he’d met Zatanna, she’d invited him to join the Justice League Dark. He’d denied, but had decided to stick around anyway. Then, somewhere along the line, Constantine had given him a JL communicator and that had been that. There was no initiation, no paperwork, and no official title given. One day, Phantom just showed up.

The Justice League, according to Raven who heard from Red Robin who was told by Nightwing who’d been in the room when Batman had found out, had had a bit to say about not going through the official process.

Phantom still wasn’t an actual member of either team, but he wasn’t upset about that. Sure, he didn’t get any of the perks that everyone else did, but he wasn’t the slightest bit upset about that.

As far as legalities and technicalities were concerned, Phantom wasn’t a part of the Justice League Dark. So why, pray tell, was he in a meeting between the JL and the JLD? Again?

The threat was an unknown being of supernatural origin. At least, that’s what he’d been told. Deadman had contacted him half way through the meeting to tell him that they’d probably need his expertise on this matter. Which, Danny would like to point out, was a very niche area. But, Deadman is one of his team - whenever that had happened - as well as one of his people. He was inclined to believe him.

Turns out that showing up to that meeting when called was a good idea. It was a larger scale than when he’d first dealt with something like it, but he knew this particular pattern anywhere.

As King, the Infinite Realms fed him information about where his people were and what they were doing. If they were in one of the infinite realms, if they were in the in between they all called home. She even let him know when someone joined or rejoined their chosen afterlife, seeing as the Realm Between was first and foremost an Afterlife. What She told him most, though, is where Concepts and Gods were and what they were going. The Observants were supposed to keep track of everything, especially because he was dealing with Living business, but they were doing a horrible job.

“Comas.” Superman was explaining, “We don’t know the cause, and none of the people have anything obvious in common.”

“So we need to find the source and take care of it, yeah?” Constantine said. Superman nodded. The Brit turned to Phantom. “So, Phantom, you recognise this?”

Phantom sighed tiredly. He so needs a pay raise for this. “Yeah, I do.”

The heroes in the room straightened up. Deadman smiled, “See? I told you we’d need ya here!”

“Shut up, man, I was having a good break,” he whined. “Besides, I’m not even a part of either team.”

“No,” Zatanna nodded, “But you agreed to be a consultant for the JLD. Now do your job; consult.”

Groaning again, Phantom let his head fall to the table. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll go take care of it.” He stood, “C’mon, Deadman.”

“Me? Why?”

“Because I want ice cream after I’m done and I’m gonna make you buy it.”

“I’m dead!”

“And? So am I.”

“I-”

“Just go with him, Deadman. Unless you’d rather be stuck in the House?”

It was Deadman’s turn to sigh. “Yeah, fine, alright.”

“I told you I’m a younger sibling, right?”

“Gasp! No. My own King? The betrayal!”

***

Phantom thought he and Nocturn were on pretty good terms. The king of Dreams had been pretty chill since they’d first fought, never really stepping on any toes, but he just had to go pull shit like this!

Well, Phantom wanted to be mad at Nocturn. However, this wasn’t the king of Dreams’ fault. In fact, this wasn’t even the fault of any of his people! It looked like the work of a Realms Being, but closer inspection proved it to be a really good fake out.

“This isn’t Nocturn.” he said to Deadman, “This isn’t anything I’ve seen before.”

“So, it’s just a really good fake?” the ghost asked.

Phantom nodded. “Yeah. Sorry for doubting you, Nocturn.” There was no response, but he didn’t expect one. He knew the ghost heard, however.

“So, what do we do now?”

“We should probably report back and get a bigger team on this.”

“You’re going to willingly work with the teams?”

“I do anyway.”

“Fair.”

“C’mon, let’s go get ice cream and call Mister Battison.”

“I still can’t believe you don’t call him ‘Batman’. Have you called him that to his face yet?”

“Not yet.”

“Are you ever going to?”

“Maybe.”

As it turns out, being dead does, in fact, prevent you from buying ice cream. So, Phantom had to go as Danny to get ice cream for himself while Deadman contacted the Justice League. Can he call discrimination? Too much paperwork.

Someone has a huge pair of balls to copy Nocturn and blame him. How, was the question. How did they know how Nocturn operated? Was the copy on purpose, or was it a complete accident? How were they knocking these people out? How were they doing it on such a large scale? Was it one person? Was it an organization? Was it actually supernatural? He knew for a fact that it wasn’t the Realms or Her people, but that’s all he knew.

Half the job is detective work, which is why the Justice League operates as a team. The Justice League Dark keeps their information close to their chest, working with what they know because they already know everything they need to about the cases they work on. And if they don’t know something, the JL has someone find out for them while the JLD figures it out as they go along.

Danny’s never been good at investigative work. When he was a kid, all his heroing was punching the problem until it went away. And if that didn’t work, he got back up and punched harder. Sam, Tucker, Jazz, and Valerie had always been so much better at the whole ‘gathering information’ aspect.

He worked well with a team, but he liked to work alone.

“Constainte,” he said as soon as the man answered his phone, “It’s not sourced from the Realms.”

“Hello to you, too, mate,” the magic user grumbled, “Deadman just finished telling the League. You enjoy your ice cream?”

“Would’ve been better if I didn’t have to buy it,” he muttered. “Are we sure this is a supernatural problem? It looks like Nocturne's work, but it’s got ‘human made’ written all over it.”

“Batman’s been looking into it with his team, minus Red Robin. He assures that it’s magical.”

“Well that limits exactly nothing. I can head to the Realms and see if She can tell me anything, but I doubt it. Maybe try asking the City Spirits?”

“Not every city has a spirit, Phantom.”

“No, but they all have graveyards. Try the protection spirits in the cities of the victims. Maybe even try seeing if the hospitals they’re staying at are haunted.”

“And talk to Hospital Ghosts? No thanks.”

“They’re not that bad.”

“You only say that because you’ve never had to deal with a pissed off Hospital Spirit.”

“Don’t piss off the Hospital Spirits and you’ll be fine!”

“Easier said than done, kid.”

“Send Z if you’re really that nervous about it.”

“She’s even less likely to.”

“Then go with Nightwing.”

“You’d trust a Bat to talk to a Hospital Spirit?”

“I trust Nightwing to talk to a Hospital Spirit. And a Graveyard Spirit. Besides, isn’t one of the victims from Bludhaven?”

A sigh. “What’d he do to get your trust so easily?”

“He’s just a little guy, Connie!”

“He’s a grown ass man. And don’t call me Connie!”

“Exactly!” Phantom’s grin was audible. “He’s just a guy!” His energy dropped a bit. “Seriously, though, take Nightwing and talk to some Graveyard and Hospital Spirits. Also see if Lady Gotham can help out. I’ll go see what the Infinite Realms can tell me.”

“Alright. You’ll be back for dinner?”

“If you’re buying.”

Part 14 Part 16

[murtagh-thorn]

Murtagh Taking Care of You When Sick

For @ivorydragoness44! Sorry this took so long, but I hope you enjoy!

Please be aware that I haven't read Murtagh's book yet (hopefully will start it soon), so no spoilers please!

You and your dragon knew staying out in the storm was a bad idea, but you both had a job to do and people to save, so you were gonna get it done dammit. But what started as a sprinkle ended with a bolt of lightning striking an already precarious-looking tree right next to you. The edge knocked you hard enough to cause damage, but luckily nothing that wouldn’t heal over time.

Your dragon had rushed you back to Eragon’s academy where he and Murtagh were anxiously waiting. Murtagh’s face paled once he saw your state and he immediately rushed forward to help, insisting on carrying you to the healers’ wing of campus.

Although he doesn’t take over the situation, he hovers close by as you recover, ever ready to answer questions for you during coughing fits, get you tea, rearrange your pillows, etc.

At first, he’s terrified of being in the way or annoying you, so hangs back so much that sometimes you don’t even realize he’s there until you need something and he suddenly materializes. Of course, if you sent him away he would go, but would be sad, worried, and thinking of you the entire time, pacing back and forth in his quarters so much that Thorn starts to tease him about wearing a hole in the floor.

Once you assure him his presence is welcome and a relief, he’s more than happy to stay. While you’re still in the healers’ wing, Thorn keeps your dragon company and Murtagh makes sure to bring you the good meals from the mess hall versus the quick, on-hand “slop” they have there.

If you’re shaken up by your experience, he reminds you that you’re safe now and he’ll make sure no harm will come to you.

Of course while he thinks you’re asleep, you feel him hold and stroke your hand many times, as well as brush some hair away from your eyes. If you’re lucky, you might even catch him pressing a soft kiss to your knuckles or forehead.

A few times while you’re awake, his hand gently strokes your face—which he of course blows off as “just checking for a fever” with the reddest face you’ve ever seen before he mutters something about getting you more tea and disappearing.

Once you’ve been discharged to your own quarters, Murtagh of course is still ready to be at your beck and call, insisting it’s even more important that someone is around to help you now that the healers aren’t constantly available to you.

He’s still making you tea, bringing you food (and in some cases, even making soup or stew for you if the mess isn’t offering what you’re craving), stoking your fire as needed, and even helping with things like cleaning and laundry.

Now that he’s helping Eragon run his academy, he does have to leave for hours at a time to complete his tasks. But he always checks on you on the way back to his own quarters.

He’s very, very insistent that you eat and drink enough and is constantly checking in with your dragon to confirm that you are. Otherwise, it’s a homemade meal delivered straight to your doorstep.

If you’re the type that prefers company while you eat, he’ll gladly bring his meals to your quarters with you. Otherwise, you find little notes on your delivered meals saying to get well soon or some joke that always makes you laugh.

Once you’re well enough to be out and about again, he tries to hide how elated he is. But even if you’re oblivious, his dragon and those who know him well are not. He’s glued to your side as much as he can be for the next few days to make sure you’re actually better and if you even slightly cough or sniffle, he’s asking if you need anything.

He may or may not develop a little evening tea time ritual with you whenever you two have a free moment now because he enjoyed making it for you so much.

[jibbmanifests]

Success Story #2: My romantic SP performs acts of service for me

I talked about my platonic SP, now it's time to write about my romantic SP (who I'll refer to as Bee).

Bee and I work together. He absolutely adores me. He is so smitten with me. This is both in the 4D and 3D realm.

Bee's job position is in a completely different part of the store we work at. So, I didn't get to see him super frequently, mainly in passing and when he's had to help me out with a few small tasks.

But, there was a day that changed everything for the better. It was a day where a shipment to my department came in and it was an unholy amount of pallets to unload. It was there for me to do as soon as I got in and I was there in the department by myself; no one offered to help me.

I was so overwhelmed. I was tearing up and so close to having a full-on breakdown. But, I knew I had to pick myself back up or else I would barely get anything done. So, I started rampaging in my mind. I repeatedly told myself, "Bee is going to come over and help me," "He's my boyfriend. Of course he's going to come help me," and "I can manifest anything in an hour." I even imagined myself directly telling him, "You are going to help me." Then, I envisioned in my mind what it'd be like having him there to help. That itself made me feel significantly better and I even reassured myself that I still had this, even if he somehow didn't help.

Well, wouldn't you know, within the next hour, the bridge of events unfolded. I was starting to take a lap around the store as a small break from unpacking everything, when I got called over to help out in another department by my boss. In the midst of me helping out, Bee shows up out of nowhere to use the phone charger plugged into the computer in that department. Then, he decides to stick around so he can shadow me as I help out customers (he'd been wanting to learn that particular department). Once the customers all left, he and I got to talking. He asks how it's been in my main department, I mention it's been tiring since we got the big shipment in. Without me even asking, he offers his help.

For the entire second half of his shift, Bee helped me unpack about half the things in my department. It was wonderful. And, ever since that day, he has continuously offered to help me with anything I need at work. It's been countless times. It's guaranteed every shipment day that he volunteers to help me out and even when he gets caught up with something in his department, I can call him over to help and he'll be there. He never leaves me hanging.

This act itself is great for me because my top love language is acts of service and that's how he constantly shows his adoration for me. He even takes on a lot of challenges and tells me how much he loves it, showing off what he can do.

So, rampaging is a technique that has helped me in both of my SP situations. I recommend trying it if you haven't already. See if it's something that helps you out, too.