#even adults would struggle to make that sort of thing work

[halfdeadhalfpaniced]

Monkie kid is wasted on the 10 minute toy commercial for children it’s stuck as. I don’t have the energy or skill to write a full rewrite or au right now so here’s some loose ideas for stuff I would add or change:

LBD deserves a full on cult her motivation and villain speech already reminded me a bit of a cult leader and mayors already there so why not just give her a few more goons in the form of some other minor demons and even humans she’s manipulating. It could be difficult for the gang to properly beat these people up because they’ve been brainwashed so they feel a bit bad doing so.

More Mei stuff! She has such an interesting back story being the descendent of Ao Lie why not show how that affects her life more? Show the pressure she’s under and the guilt her family has pushed on her for wanting to be herself! Maybe she has some kind of double life and they don’t even know she’s sneaking out to do things like motorcycle races and extreme sports with a good Mei centric episode showing them finding out somehow and her proving herself to be capable talented and an important part of the team. They don’t completely understand approve or stop working about her but learn she’s an adult who has her own life and as long as she’s still doing some of the important family traditions they can’t really stop her. They still worry but there’s also a deep pride they won’t admit since she’s helping so many people.

Give Macaque AND Wukong more clear fuck ups and motivations for them! I already mentioned giving LBD cult leader charisma and manipulation skills that could be affecting Macaque but make it clear Wukong still holds a grudge too and acts even more irrational and impulsive when Macaque is involved. Show in subtle ways they both deep down still care for each other show the way they’re prior healthy relationship affects them struggling subconsciously to cause proper damage to the other! Show them trying to reason with each other from skewed perspectives and memories of their issues both full of bias and things the other forgot or dismissed as unimportant have them both be unintentionally unreliable narrators of their own lives forced to get a neutral mediator and tons of individual and couples therapy to figure out what actually happened.

Show more demon culture especially in parallel to human culture! Something like how for generations many demons have abandoned or never even engaged in the brutality they as a species are known for just trying to live their life’s without causing problems and distancing themselves from those that do. Many humans still show fear and discrimination towards them but that’s one of the things that makes Pigsys special because it’s owner a pig demon is in a healthy relationship with a human who’s always there so they treat every customer the same and give every paying customer the best possible food they can provide at affordable prices.

Show demons not fully trusting MK because of his ties to Wukong someone who was previously considered a hero for them and a rebel to heavens tyranny but in their eyes ended up turning against them to slaughter their family’s and friends for a monk basically becoming “heavens pet” to them and “cheap entertainment for humanity abandoning those who supported him from the start” or “a sell out who forgot where he came from and wishes you did too” many of which Macaque echos back to him during fights just fueling his perception of Wukong being a heartless traitor.

More of the major demons that actually are problems fully adapting to modern society and using that as a weapon. Opening business running smear campaigns starting gossip ect. Not just physical fights but mind games and playing the game to inconvenience the gang even selling products that cause problems for the city or being celebrity’s or influencers of sorts manipulating the people that way. Stuff like the new mayor diverting funds or canceling a Monkey king festival to use the money for other things like soup kitchens affordable housing or park maintenance because while the gang knows this was done out of spite you can’t really argue about it much because yea those things really did need the money and they are really good things for the community so what’s a few less booths and rides at a festival?

On the mayor make him a genuinely amazing mayor who even loves and is actually great at his job. He’s solving problems charismatic happy and the best the city has had in years. So when the gang does realize he’s an evil demon working for a complete psycho cult leader ( willingly or unwillingly) anything they say just sounds like a crack pot conspiracy theory badmouthing the beloved mayor out of spite or because he decided a monkey king festivities funds could go to helping a community because of course the biggest monkey king fan boy from a loving safe background wouldn’t understand that there are more important things in life!

Connected to a few previous comments but have people who don’t fully support or trust the gang especially MK. Bad newspaper article’s gossip side eye in the streets slanderous social media posts conspiracy theories about him and the gang ect. Just some good old fashion background conflict and drama! Obviously also show all the fans and supporters too like people giving them free stuff or extra business for pigsys but that’s a little bit less fun

I’ll probably post more stuff for this eventually or I’ll answer any questions faster depends what happens first ig

Also Ik I might have torn into Wukong a little bit more after saying they both fucked up but it is so much easier and makes more in the universes content to come up with ideas for him in this since it seems like nobody knows who macaque even is in this world and the centuries of opinions and feelings towards wukong just built more naturally

[vamptarot]

What Will They Like About Your Body | PAC 18+

pile one pile two pile three

how to choose a pile . . . choose whichever you feel drawn to or ask your guides to guide your eyes to the one that is meant for you! ᡣ𐭩

— ⭑.ᐟ this is for diversity reasons, if you don’t want to, don’t read it, if you want to, go for it. this will be covering what they like about your body and what they fantasise of it. ‘they’ meaning your special person. not proof read.

𝝑𝝔 If you are under 18 years old don’t read this. This is made for consenting adults. If you think you are grown enough, no you are not.

pile one : - high heels !

𐙚 : five of cups, page of pentacles, five of swords, three of swords, two of cups reversed

bottom of the deck: six of swords

♡ ⢷what will they like about your body

Every single little thing, there is nothing that they don’t like about you. Which can, yes, be annoying to hear, because this isn’t what you were curious of, but these feelings are sincere. They come from the bottom of the heart.

Your special person looks at you as the star, as this very perfect person, the most beautiful of all. They find your looks dreamy and even the tiniest of folds and details are beautiful about them. The beauty of ancient statues, if you struggle understanding the concept of it.

It’s the feeling of “this is actually a real body with a lot of things to tell, not just one that was worked for years to hide things about it.”

Some of you might take an offence to that, thinking “but that means my body is just ugly!”.. I am here to say that’s not true, you are just delusional. Real bodies don’t look like the ones on the internet that are photoshopped to the max - yes, even in videos -, they just look real. With spots, blemishes, veins, details, stretch marks, beauty spots and a thousand other things. Your body is very much real, which makes you soooo sexy in your person’s eyes. All the little things about it.

Matter of fact, your special person LOOOOVES your stomach so much, like omg. They might like to hold it, or just rest their body on it while cuddling you or literally sleeping with you while spooning. You might think to yourself, ‘oh, but my stomach isn’t flat’, duh, that’s the sexy bit about it. - Even if your stomach is flat that is okay bby, that bit was meant for somebody else. -

Think about it, no statue of Aphrodite has a flat stomach.

Aside from that, your chest is so loved. Idgaf if you are a woman, man, flat chested or not this mf - whoever they might be - wants to suck on it, and if they are given the chance they will show that too! 🫵🏻 Seriously, if you are asking about a guy, - or a masculine girl -, they wanna just put their face right to your chest and get to work. If you have a bigger chest, just rub their face their, and if it’s flat then tease you so you make noises for them. - Whines, to be specific. - If you have birth mark or any sort of mark on your chest, they also want to kiss it there, they love it.

It’s not that their energy is objectifying, they are just crazy about you. Like your body gets them all to be like those old cartoons where the guy gets heart eyes and they almost fall out as they stare at the pretty lady that just walked by.. tongue out and all. - Think of Bugs Bunny from Looney Tunes or Tom from Tom & Jerry when they meet a pretty girl and you might understand better like that. -

Now, speaking about tongues. They think that your private part has such a pretty shade to it. - Or like.. would, if they saw it. - This obviously varies person to person but the main things that are coming through are pinkish & light brown? Like it’s just a nice shade of brown. - yes, even if you are a person of colour.. this will be unique to everybody, but the point is the same. - Also the texture if your skin could also be something they like? Because that’s unique from person to person as well! So they will definitely love what they will be able to feel, you know. Tongues come here because as soon as they saw you wet/hard combined with those factors they just wanna give you head. Like they are needy for you!

They also, really, really like your ass a lot. Slapping it, grabbing it during the act itself.. whatever you let them do, they will do it. You might as well catch them staring from time to time too. - This is regardless of gender, if you are a guy asking about a girl this still applies… or a girl asking about a girl.. whatever you are into guys. Your ass is just a 10/10 for them. -

♡ ⢷their fantasies about your body

You might have had some experiences in the past that made you very insecure. In your body, and how people perceive you. I will not be going too much into it because the severity of this depends from reader to reader. It rages from comments - irl & online -, to bullying, all the way down to abuse. That is your business and I am not going to dive into it.

However, their fantasies revolve around helping you escape feeling stuck from these feelings and emotions that are awakened in you when it comes to sexuality. They understand that it’s from things that you have went through in life but they still wish to help you overcome these negative emotions by loving you right, treating you right and giving you the whole world, their all.

Even then, you might be the sort of person who wants to do it with the lights off or distracted your partner before things get too far because you are genuinely scared of intimacy and the level of tension such a deep bond comes with. In your head it could be nothing but all sort of negative things, barely anything good coming out of it. At times, you might even feel ashamed. It doesn’t have to be this way. This is what they want to show you by treating you correctly.

You escaping this turmoil of ‘it’s wrong, but I want to like it’s and the pain that comes along with it is what their biggest fantasy is. They hate to see you suffer through things even if you hate that they care at times. Nothing in this world will make them stop caring about you, at all, even if you believe otherwise. Their love isn’t fragile, rather opposite, it’s quite strong.

They dream of loving you tenderly, holding you, going slow and kissing your tears away as they hold your hand.

They dream of taking care of you, treating you with the utmost respect. Never ever would they do anything to purposefully scare you or make you uncomfortable.

♡ ⢷moodboard

— ✮⋆˙ ‘my type’ , billie eilish , ‘and i see her, at the back of my mind’ , pink & flowers ? , demisexual , waiting til marriage , not a huge fan of kinky stuff but rather just wanna make love , (door) bells , bookshop , sage green , piercings , something for beauty being done to the eyes - contacts, lashes, eyeshadow ect - , stiletto nails , shibuya

My pile one do not forget that you are beautiful and nothing in this world will change this fact! your person is so sweet, their energy is very gently even though you might not think so. they would neverrr do anything without your permission. thank you for reading.

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile two : - font !

𐙚 : six of swords, queen of pentacles reversed, seven of pentacles reversed, nine of cups, wheel of fortune reversed, the devil reversed, the lovers reversed

bottom of the deck: the emperor

♡ ⢷what will they like about your body

I would like to start out with saying that this is a toxic pile, at the very least sexually mean. There is no feeling of being in love or having strong emotional connection/needs here, so even if you have a crush they might feel a sexual attraction towards you but not romantic one.. or they possibly view sexual attraction and romance as two different things and don’t think of the other while doing one of them. - meaning even if they have a crush, they won’t be romantic during sex. - I will still channel for this pile but this has been your warning and disclaimer. If you are not comfortable reading about something like that, do not. It’s alright to not read this.

Now, if you decided to continue reading I will need you to stay with me on this one, this person is a whole mess.

I also want to say that if you have a bdsm kink this person does too, and if you don’t they do not either but are simply sadistic/masochistic or just had heavy uncomfortable experiences in the past that altered their preferences, fantasies and such. Such a rare but specific distinction but everybody’s guides urged me to say this.

To actually get into it, they like your chest, the shape of your body and your private eras. The shape of it, the size of it and everything that is unique about it. Not even a little bit, but a lot. They want to tie you up, not necessarily do anything but stare at you while admiring you. They want to tie you up in such a specific way too, in a way your legs and arms are spread out so they can see everything.

This inactivity is on purpose, either to piss you off or make you scared. Your face is so hot to them. Like your expressions for sure get them hard/wet, but like.. your face in general, they love it.

I will list what they like about it as well. Let’s start with your eyes.. pretty eyelashes, colours, gaze and so on.. but that’s absolutely not what turns them on at all. It’s the fact that they are a little bit messed up. There is so many eye conditions in this world, but this is specific for those people who have a bit harder time seeing. If you squint your eyes while trying to read something? Sexy as fact. You walk into something by accident? Sexy as fuck. I am sure the Lord does, but I don’t understand why they feel this way. There is a reason, they are just not sharing it with me. Also, even if that’s not your eye condition.. don’t think you are an exception, that ‘it might not be for you’. It does, you are so cute it turns them on. Especially when you look up at them. They are horny for you. If you have eyebags that just adds to it even more. - I also don’t mean to be belittling, I, myself, wear glasses. Your person is just a little crazy, I am so sorry I don’t know how to say that in a more kind manner. -

Moving on, your nose. There is something unique about it. A beauty spot, a birth mark, the shape of it.. you know your face better than I do, whatever you know is unique is about it they love it. Even if you think they don’t. - that’s especially for the bigger nose ppl! don’t belittle your beauty. -

Your lip shape, they think it’s so kissable. I am so serious, they look at it as ‘so plump’ and they ‘want to devour it’. - don’t clock it, these aren’t my words. - Now, if you are a girl you decide if this means your face or other lips. 🩷 It’s both.

And we are not done yet, nu uh. 🙂‍↕️☝🏻 Your teeth, your beauty spots, your eye colour in the sun, your resting face, your expression when you are annoyed, your red eyes ‘n nose ‘n cheeks after you cried.. is there anything they don’t like about your face? No. If you let them they will cum on it too.

Your thighs are something they loveeeee too. I for real hope that you are into bites and hickeys because this person wants to leave their mark on you. Whether or not this is only for them to see or if it’s visible to anyone… they don’t gaf, they just want to know that their mark is there, on you. No one else’s, just theirs. Jealous, jealous person. Hella possessive too. ‘Only mine’ sort of thing.

They also like your stomach, especially if it’s more toned. Like don’t get them wrong, they don’t care if your stomach changes. Matter of fact they want to impregnate you. - Not that they are ready for a baby, they are just kinky as hell. -

♡ ⢷their fantasies about your body

This is another warning and disclaimer. If you find heavier, darker fantasies and topics uncomfortable don’t read this. This is especially true if you have had negative sexual experiences or if you have traumas that are easily triggered. I am not playing with you. You might hate this.

Menace to society. Like these are only fantasies, and they won’t really act out on each and every single one but when channeling the energy I got a bit perplexed.

First and foremost, they want you to submit to them, completely. No ifs, no buts, no nothing. Just submitting to them. Let’s go through their fantasies one by one..

I believe this is the most simple and common one. This isn’t necessarily something harmful but it does depend on your view of life and the value you put into such things. It’s completely ok to disagree with me on this one. - Notice how I am saying ‘least harmful’ and not ‘not harmful at all’. -

Their most harmless fantasy is you getting over someone, possibly out of a relationship, moving on and still sad with the what happened as you were mistreated. They want to ‘heal’ you with sexual connections. Now, what exactly this is varies person to person. For some of you this is making love, for others it’s having sex and for other people it’s straight up f#cking and messing around. - Crazy to write it out like that, but these are all different things. - They just wanna be ‘the one to heal you.’ Whatever that may mean to them.

For this next one, some of you reading this might like the idea of this fantasy because you won’t fully grasp the idea of it due to being inexperienced but that’s alright, I will do my best to explain to you.

This fantasy revolves around spoiling you, giving you everything you want and pampering you any chance he gets. With attention, words, gifts, necessities, physical touch and in sexual needs. Anything you can think of. The twist in this fantasy is you not being able to do any of this by yourself because no matter how hard you would try you would simply just fail. I am not saying that’s the truth, I am saying that’s their fantasy. Pampering you because you need to completely rely on them, having no other choice. Being obsessed even though you are in an unfortunate situation or might even desire freedom sometimes. It’s like this hopelessness that you have alone, almost as if you need them to be fulfilled in life. That no one else can give this to you, not even yourself.

I don’t think they have a slave kink, but it borders it. This is because they sometimes fantasies about you doing xyz in exchange for these things, like housework and so on.. but in a sinister way, not in a ‘my lovely stay at home wife/husband/partner’ kinda way. Not a ‘sugar daddy/mommy’ kind of way either. Imma be honest and just say I did not see enough things in my life to understand what exactly is going on, but I know for sure that they love power dynamics and want to be the one that’s on top. Figuratively and literally too.

For this one, if you ignored my first warning but you still read and happen to have trauma about physical abuse or domestic violence don’t read what I am about to channel next. Literally don’t. Ignorance is bliss.

We have entered level 10000000x of f*cked up. Their most messed up fantasy is them abusing you, to the point of you having bruises and feeling emotionally defeated. That’s not what turns them on. It’s the fantasy of regardless of this you keep on loving them. Going back for more and unable to leave them, and even letting them do whatever they want to your body. Though, in all these fantasies they do fantasies about having to chase you a little bit. So you not giving yourself easy and valuing yourself but still ending up under them is the main drive they have for this fantasy.

The craziest thing though, this mf seems pure, kind and very respectful. The perfect person to bring home. Well put together, clean, has a lot to offer and treats your family well. You would never think that these sort of things cross their mind. Yet they do.

I am willing to bet a whole tarot deck that many people reading this pile until here didn’t believe a single word of what I wrote down exactly because they appear so perfect and kind.

♡ ⢷ moodboard

— ✮⋆˙ wild thoughts - rihanna , red ropes & red string of fate (symbolism of differences) , virgo , someone is hungry rn , anger issues , ‘breaking dishes all night’ , tiktok edits , hallway crush , tiger/tigress , ‘Tom’ , tom foolery - lmao - , grey , silver jewellry , dreads , nonchalant but very kind , red fruits ? strawberries, watermelon, raspberries, passion fruit and aso on , cracking backs , spa asmr

Idk y’all this man/person is the devil. 😞 you are into what you are into, but do not stay near people who make you feel unsafe. thank you for reading

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

pile three : - ballet shoes !

𐙚 : the chariot reversed, queen of swords reversed, the star, eight of cups reversed, four of wands, page of swords

bottom of the deck: knight of swords

♡ ⢷what will they like about your body

Let’s start with saying that you might think this person is cold or not interested in you but it’s the total opposite.

They want you so bad, and they try to not show it because they are ashamed of how bad they want you. Not because there is anything wrong with you but because they are so good at self discipline, not being influenced by anything too easily and just being a honest and just person. Yet, when it comes to you they cannot help but have these animalistic tendencies, they want to go nuts and have such rough sexual relations with you all while treating you like their Queen/King, pampering you with love and affection.

They don’t want to only make love to you, they want to worship you with every single second that passes. You have a hold on them that no body else have had before and they try to not make themselves look crazy in your eyes but they just want to kiss every inch and corner of your body. Even the ground you walk on. You are so perfect to them and they feel like they need to hide so that you don’t push them away. So you won’t think of them as a creep.

They love you as a whole, if you were to ask them what they find unattractive about you they would not have an answer. There is not a single thing that they deem as a flaw about you at all. They would be offended if you even dared to think that there is. In a sincere way too.

Like you could even believe, even for a slight second that there is anything that they don’t like about you? They would never deem anything about your appearance as a flaw.

And that is true! But they still have subconscious favourites I picked up on lmao,, Which is completely normal!

It’s your feet, your tummy, your fingers - might wanna suck on it idkkkk -, your overall figure, your veins, your waist, the outline of your private parts through clothes, the way that you carry yourself and if you have blue eyes then that.

Though, their favourite thing is none of those. It’s the tension in your body when you are turned on and you think you can hide it well but it still shows through your actions. How you move your legs and the way you rub your legs together, the shy look on your eyes all while you are nervous about people being able to tell how needy you are. It turns them on so bad they could single handedly recreate the Niagara fallls all by themselves, if you get what I mean.

Perhaps they would also enjoy how your own cum looks on your thighs after sex, after coming so much and not being able to control yourself. - I am sorry for the lack of better words. -

♡ ⢷their fantasies about your body

Honestly, they just have a worshipping kink when it comes to you.

They want to suck on your body. Your toes, your private parts - on your clit if you are a woman -, your thighs, your stomach - they wanna leave hickeys -, your hips, your waist, your chest, your collarbones, your arms, your shoulders, your lips.. they want it all.

Even if they aren’t into it, they want to do it just to please you. It turns them on because it’s you. They find you crazy hot, like they would go to the ends of the world and back for you.

Not a sub for sure, they rather read like a soft dom that’s very passionate, obsessed and in love with you. They can be a sub for the night if you want them to be though. Put a leash on them and they will go on all fours for you.

And if you don’t like that, that’s cool. They can slap you, pull your hair and go hard if that’s what you need them to do.

If you like regular sex only, that’s chill with them too.

For you, they are both a prince charming and a freak, just depends on what you need of them. They want to cater to your needs all while dominating you. Adoring everything about you.

The only thing they ask for in exchange is for you to be loyal and committed to them, because they sure are to you. Not a single other person on their mind at all. Fuck threesomes and anything else that involves bringing someone else other than the two of you in the bedroom, they only want you.

They could go crazy if you give attention to any other person too. Jealous person, adores devotion above anything else for sure. They are not afraid to leave you if you play games with them. Doesn’t even have to be cheating, but teasing. They love you but they don’t like things like that. They are grown. - Not my words bby, their higher self’s. -

Regardless, they don’t fantasise about you leaving them but rather overthink and worry they you might do so if you find someone else that better fits you. Someone you look at as beautiful, good and all the more compatible with you. This is their worry. - Probably bc of their past but most of you it’s just because they love you so much you are their weakness. -

Their fantasies revolve around pleasing you. Giving you their all. Trying out thousands upon thousands of things with only one another, just the two of you.

♡ ⢷ moodboard

— ✮⋆˙ ‘just the two of us, we can make if if we try’ , ‘i am vanilla baby, I will choke you but I am no killer baby’ , whipped cream , someone here has a mommy kink , curved eyelashes , clown masks , cherry red lipstick , tooth gems , blue whips , shy virgin who didn’t resonate with the kinky bits 🫵🏻 , painted toes! , coffin nails , 18

believe that you deserve good things instead of trying to convince yourself that I am lying to you. that one is very specific for one person not everyone <3<3 mwah my beautiful pile 3 you are so loved by this person I wish nothing but happiness for y’all! thank you for reading

if you liked my reading please consider checking out my paid readings! there is barely any topic I will say no to and with every penny you are helping me!

[earlgreylatte]

Returnee

(Justice League Various x Reader) After centuries of surviving in a world without another human in sight, you return and find the heroes you once admired to be the only interesting things around, besides beating the shit out of monsters, of course.

Implied sexual content ahead, minors DNI.

You would describe yourself to be the pinnacle of mediocrity, your life consisting of drowning in course readings and dealing with people’s bullshit in your customer service job. You existed. You may not have been wholly content, but you got by.

And, sure you, like millions of other desolate young adults, had fantasies of escapism, being strong, being someone special. But you ultimately knew your place. You were no hero; no alien or chosen human that could answer to a greater calling. You were just you, average in every way. So unlike the heroes and villains that occupy your world. You’ll never make an impact that’ll even come close to the likes of them.

The only thing you can hope to do is try to make your parent’s suffering of starting a life here worth it. That all the money and work invested in you would have some sort of pay off. Even if it means you had to traverse a path you’re still uncertain about.

You knew your limits, and maybe that rigid acceptance is what led to your own self destruction.

You find yourself in a desolate world void of humans but occupied with beasts unlike anything you have ever seen before, with sharpened talons and razored blades for teeth. No matter how much you cry and scream you do not wake up. The only communication you get comes in the form of ‘tabs’ that resemble something out of a video game. It’s gives you quests to adhere, reminders to keep things interesting, notifications you’re being watched by deities that watch your struggle like a show to tune into. Every moment, no matter how humiliating, is spectated.

You want nothing more to return to the life you had, answer the messages you never got the chance to respond to, try the things you never got to even attempt. You curse your inaction, your own spoiled thoughts from a lifetime ago, your parents for even giving birth to you if this is the reality you have to face.

Your survival hangs on a thread at first, you only being able to run away from the larger beasts. Eventually your tears dry, you fight back against the ones smaller than you. These Outergods sponsor you with a game like currency. You level up. You acquire gear better than a makeshift bone shiv. You consume. You sleep. And you do it all over again for the next couple centuries in this world. You do not age, but you grow taller, strengthened by the creatures you slaughter. Eventually, you don’t need a blade to slay them anymore. Then the beasts try to avoid you. You still kill them. They’re never ending. The least they can do is give you something to do in their infinity.

You stop feeling fear, sadness, indignation, and even hatred. You exist. You somewhat remember the life and name you had before. You don’t really feel one way about it or the other. Your family, obligations, and old identity are all null and void to you now.

Clearly your spectators grow bored as they send you back to the world you once called yours. Apparently barely a year has passed since you were taken, even if you might be the oldest human to walk Earth now.

For the first time in a long time, you’re struck with uncertainty. A world that isn’t stuck in time, one loud with the presence of people, and yet you feel no relief or sanctity in the safety of your old home. No, you’re struck with how just like in that beast world, you’re still horrifically, agonizingly bored.

Until you notice a hoard of androids terrorize the street. You can feel the blood thrumming in your veins, and you realize with renewed vigour that it wasn’t bloodshed that you had yearned for, but the thrill of battle, not knowing if you’ll live, and putting everything you had left on the line after abandoning the softness that once defined your modern life.

And so you fought. You were barely grazed with a laser, but you could appreciate the adrenaline rushing through your body, the uncertainty of a new adversary. You paid little mind to the screaming civilians trying to evacuate the streets, all you cared about was tearing about these metal beings before they could even try to do the same to you.

You’re broken from the euphoria of battle when you feel a whoosh of air behind you, and a dozen androids deactivate before you.

“Hey there, don’t think I’ve ever seen you around,” what appeared to be living electrical energy clad in crimson spoke to you, in a tone you could almost recognize as friendly. “Not that I mind the help! I’m always happy to meet—!”

You can feel your pupils dilate as every inch of your body screams that this man is dangerous. Powerful. Different from the fodder you faced before.

“—so, what do you go by?”

Summoning your broad sword, you swiftly slam it into the ground below, watching the man get tossed back by its force as the concrete crumbles beneath him.

You toss your sword to where he lands, but he quickly recovers and disappears before reappearing before you.

“Woah, what are you—“ you interrupt him by throwing a punch but he dodges again, “Can we talk about this sudden aggression—!?”

Tiring of his evasion, you recall your sword and prepare to strike the ground again before pausing as a sudden rush of memories strikes you.

“Ah,” you hum, before stretching out your hand, halting the approaching speedster that stares at you confused. “You’re that one hero…Bolt, or whatever. Speed guy.”

Yes, a hero. Not a warrior. Not a survivor. And certainly not a killer. You feel the apathy rush back as you stare at him. No, you wouldn’t get a real fight out of him. He’d sooner try to subdue you. Non-lethally. Honestly, he was way too nice.

“Flash? I mean, I’m the Flash, hero of the city you’re in!” The speedster fumbles for a second, starting at you in puzzlement.

“Yeah, let’s just call it here.” You sigh before walking away. You definitely forgot heroes were a thing for a second. And takeout.

You’re stopped in your tracks when Flash blocks your path.

“Woah there, you can’t just leave!” He protests.

“Why not?”

“You took down like hundreds of androids, attacked me, and-and you haven’t even introduced yourself!”

“Hmm, I think I forgot my name,” you reply, bring a hand up to your chin in mock contemplation.

“What-?”

“Do you want to have sex with me or something?” You ask. “Because you’re being a bit clingy, man.”

The hero states at you with his mouth agape, and you can see the red flush growing around his cowl.

“I get it, it’s pretty easy for arousal to mix with thrill in battle. I won’t say I’m not attracted to you, but I’ve got things to do, people to fight, and I doubt I can get what I need from you,” you explain nonchalantly. “But hey, keep your head up, man. There’s some charm in being the fastest man alive. I’d test it under different circumstances, really.”

You back away as Flash remains still as a statue, exposed skin now matching his suit as he blankly watched you leave.

“What just happened…?”

Honestly you don't have anything against heroes. You pity them, really. They remind you of your own inexperience once upon a time, fighting against the inevitable. But you can't deny that there are some with years beyond even yours, continuing to fight in their crusade.

Some more interesting than others.

Hawkgirl, who you recall to have been a member of the Justice Society of America, was someone that made you look like a babe in comparison to the lifetimes held in that strong body. Good fighter too. You're almost disappointed your battle was interrupted by another invasion and she apparently found you to be an ally rather than an opponent after that. You just wanted to see if those aliens were worth a damn.

Wonder Woman also stood out for the same reason, encountering her when you arrived at Themyscira for a duel with their strongest. And boy did she deliver. But sadly you could see that she adopted a non-lethal style, fighting only till first blood rather than to the death.

At least their bathhouse was luxurious even if it was communal. Diana said that it was for bonding. You think she was totally checking you out.

You could say that you were becoming increasingly familiar with the growing Justice League, encountering its members every so often.

You didn't pick a fight, aware it would be more trouble than it was worth. You doubt you'd be too satisfied either.

So when you find yourself encountering the Bat in Gotham after subduing Clayface, you're not surprised.

You're also not surprised when he recites your name and missing status.

He drones on about the circumstances of your disappearance, your return as a much stronger (and hotter) individual, and your dubious intentions.

You throw you sword at him, and he ducks out of the way, throwing you a glare just as sharp as your blade.

You explain that he's not a great speaker, and he should invest in some interpersonal communication courses. And that's coming from you. You then add you'll leave after you try the recently opened batburger.

He gives you a ride in his Batmobile.

Superman was a bit of an irritating figure. A boy scout, despite his godlike abilities. Staring at him, you wonder how much kinetic force it would take to burst the blood vessels beneath that impenetrable skin.

"We would really like for you to visit the Watchtower! We understand if you may not want to commit to being a full time member, so if we could call on you—!"

He pauses when you outstretch your hand and stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He places his hand in yours, almost as if it was instinct, blushing when you brush your thumb across his skin.

You hum in thought before departing.

"Uh, wait! Was that a yes!?"

You're pretty sure you're about to bed Green Lantern. You had come to Coast City, curious to see if any disasters would occur to alleviate your boredom, but had instead ran into a man with swoopy hair and an nice aviator jacket in a bar. He was pleasant. He seemed charmed by your Superman/Lex Luthor conspiracy theories. And he talked about flying with a passion unfamiliar to you.

So when you ended up at his place, back against his door as he kissed and nipped at your neck, you pulled him back by his brown hair to look at you.

"I'm a virgin, by the way."

He stares at you incredulously with a touch of concern. "Are you sure this is how you want your first time to go? We don't have to do this."

You doubt you'll get a fight out of him. He'd probably just trap you in a construct, but there are other ways for you to get physical.

...and you needed the experience for the next time an Amazonian propositions you.

"I like you well enough. And I've waited a long time to actually do something like this," you reply, still playing with his hair.

"You really want to do this with an older guy?"

You laugh, "I'm definitely the older one here."

His lip twitches as he shoots you an amused look, "And I'm Batman."

"Do you really want to talk about him before we-?”

The lantern silences you with another hot kiss that you grin into.

Yes, this Justice League certainly made things interesting, even if some of them were obnoxious do-gooders.

Hal: So, what's your name?

Returnee, with jumbled memories: Demonic Blade of Slaughter

Hal:

Returnee: Do you want to have sex?

Returnee: So, yeah, I was trapped in a monster world for presumably centuries with these outer world gods being the only other sentient beings and they only made contact via stream chat donations. And the only thing that even elicits any emotional or physiological response in me is violence.

Batman, internally dying:

Returnee: Don't worry, I don't fight street tiers like you.

Diana: It's been a while since l've last had such an invigorating bout, I would love to spend more time testing how far we can push each other to... our limits.

Returnee, who spent the last centuries off Earth as a virgin: I hear the glory of battle calling, must be off, let's fight again soon!

Outergods: Okay, so the human has definitely cleared this world, so how about we return this bloody thirsty heathen back to their original world and see what entertainment we find in the chaos—!

Outergods: Okay, so they're just having sex with all these superpowered individuals. And is that—-Oh my god, is that Constantine!?

Outergods: Yeah, no, this is hot, I'm donating 10k coins for that.

Clearing out my drafts! I really love the whole system in ORV and I found the returnee concept so interesting. Masterlist

[librarygarten]

Isekai!Reader Meets Dink

It has been A Week and I needed to write something less serious. Reader meets Dink and roasts him. Part 1 (you are here) ✿ Part 2

It was a stupid idea, really, but it was all you had left. The entity in front of you was running circles around the group. One moment, it was a Lizalfos, jumping away from any attack. Then, it was Darknut, taking every hit as if it was nothing. It would blend into the darkness of the night before leaping out somewhere new.

Dodge. Parry. Dodge. Breathe in. Breathe out. It took everything in you to avoid the weapon the thing before you was wielding. Nobody wanted a repeat of what happened to Twilight. But the fight was going on for too long. Hyrule was running out of magic. You could hear Sky struggling to breathe behind you. It raised its weapon towards Time. He wasn’t going to be able to dodge in time.

So, you did the only thing you could think of. You grabbed your sword. You jumped up. And you smacked the thing on the head. You heard something crack, and the beast fell.

The shadows melted under you, reforming and reshaping. Whatever it was, you had dazed it. The chain surrounded the writing mass of darkness, swords and shields ready for whatever it would become next.

The form solidified. An arm. A head. Legs. It was kneeling, clutching its head with one hand. It turned its face to you, glaring. You recognized this new form.

“DINK???” You exclaimed. The shadow winced, it’s head still throbbing from when you had hit it. Time paled. He recognized this enemy, too.

“What did you just call me?” The shadow growled, but there was no threat. He was too weak from the fight.

“Uhh. Dink?” You shrugged, the grip on your sword loosening somewhat. “It’s what the fans have taken to calling you. Dark. Link. Dink.” Wind snickered at your explanation, and Dink turned to glare at the boy. Wind took a step back, raising his sword to defend against the shadow’s gaze.

“Do NOT call me that.” He stood, and you realized he wasn’t even an adult shadow. It was the same form he took in the Water Temple. Seventeen. Lanky. A threat, for sure, but also…

“What? Dink?” You smiled, making sure to stay out of his range. “Why not?”

“I am the shadows. I am darkness. I am everything the heroes of light are not.” He wobbled on his feet. Had you concussed him? “I am the dark reflect-”

“Uh huh.” You interrupted his speech, rolling your eyes. The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon. Time to stall. “Sure, Dinky. Shadows and darkness and all that emo stuff.” You nodded. Twilight pressed his lips together, trying not to burst out laughing as you mocked the entity. Warriors looked at you like you had grown a second head.

“I am not… Dinky.” Dink took a threatening step towards you. You calmly stepped away from him.

“I dunno, man.” You smiled. “You’re acting pretty annoying, with all the portals and what not. You gotta be compensating for something.” Behind you, Legend wheezed, trying to keep a straight face and failing. Dink stared at you for a moment before the shadows near his cheeks darkened. Was he… blushing?

“You…” He looked around. He was surrounded. There was no getting out of this. He turned to face you again, taking in your relaxed expression. “What is WRONG with you! You’re supposed to fear me!”

“Why?” You made a show of checking your nails, picking the dirt out from under them.

“I am everything the hero stands against!” Dink shouted. “I am the darkness within him!”

“Well, good thing I’m not the hero.” You wink. “The greatest darkness I need to face is working up the courage to call the pizza place for dinner.”

Dink blinked at you. Maybe it was the concussion. Maybe you were just insane. Whatever the case, he had no idea what to say. Usually, the person he was fighting would be shaking with fear at this point.

The sun rose slowly over the horizon, the light filtering through the leaves of the forest. Dink hissed as it hit him, his body disappearing where the sunlight hit him directly. He looked sort of like a very evil (or very moldy) slice of swiss cheese. He looked towards the sunrise, shielding his eyes and wincing.

“I’ll be back.” He glared at you. Then, he sunk down into the ground, disappearing into the shadows still left. The chain watched him disappear.

Time was the first to break the silence. His laughter echoed through the now quiet morning. The others followed suit, some even clutching their stomachs or falling over.

“Y/N, that was bloody brilliant.” Wild gasped in between fits of giggles.

“Well, we weren’t going to win fighting normally.” You blinked. You hadn’t expected this reaction.

“So you chose to use psychological warfare instead?” Hyrule wiped a tear away from his eye.

“Ye.”

[wistfulforstars]

I Want More, More

Crosshair x Reader Oneshot

WOW, I broke 20 followers! Thank you, thank you for reading my little fics, it means the world! Have a Crosshair battling with his feelings oneshot!

Word Count: 4605

Summary: Crosshair is made aware that he has not been treating you like he should. He has a crisis about it before talking to you like an adult, kind of.

Warnings: Here there be smut, minors begone, Crosshair struggling with his feelings is its own warning, Crosshair is a dick until he's not, he's a moron your honor, slightly desperate Crosshair, rough sex into talking into gentle sex into rough sex again, oral (m receiving), oral (f receiving), p in v sex, language, some derogatory pet names, talking during sex, reader is afab, there's porn here I promise, you just have to get through Crosshair's angst

This wasn’t fucking working.

Crosshair was near madness, and he was sure you were reaching a point where you needed a break. You’d never let him fuck your mouth for this long before. But there you were, topless, tears streaming down your face, knees probably scuffed or even bleeding from the durasteel floor, nevermind that you still had your pants on. And yet you pushed through, voicing not a word of complaint as you gagged on his persistent cock.

And he wasn’t anywhere close to finishing.

You should be complaining, he decided. What had it been? Thirty minutes? Fifty? Crosshair couldn’t keep track of anything except his own frustration, and that was making him a terrible lay. And if there’s one thing he would be loath to be terrible at, it was sex.

His cock throbbed, his balls ached, and you kept moaning. He growled.

Sooner or later, you’re going to hurt her. She’s going to get tired of this, and she’s going to leave. Hunter’s words from earlier in the week creeped back into his mind, and any hope of salvaging this situation dissipated into thin air.

Crosshair abruptly pulled you off his length and backed away, tugging his pants up as he went. Still you knelt, breathing heavily, awaiting what he’d do next. It was the arrangement you’d both worked out months ago. You allowed yourself to be used as he saw fit, and he made sure you left satisfied and ready for dreamless sleep. No feelings, no complications. It had worked well for a long time. But he looked at you then, your face a mess, your curled legs trembling, and for the first time, he couldn’t stand the sight.

She deserves someone who cares deeply about her, Echo’s voice, well, echoed in his head, as unbidden as Hunter’s had been. His nosy brothers had held an intervention of sorts a few days ago while you were out getting supplies. It had started with Tech’s “We want to know what you are doing with our medic,” gone through Wrecker’s “You know she likes you, right? Like, a lot,” and ended with a long speech from Hunter about how “One day Crosshair, you’re going to wake up and realize that she’s moved on. For some reason, she really cares for you. And you’re treating her like a meaningless one night stand, except you keep doing it over, and over and-”

It was stupid. You both liked what you were doing. You were both consenting adults with the power to walk away at any time. You were both happy and fulfilled with that. It was enough.

Except for the past few days, it hadn’t been.

Crosshair began to really notice certain things since the talk with his brothers. Like how you always met him with a cheery good morning, and how you didn’t expect an answer in return. How you’d sit next to him while he cleaned his rifle, content to do all the talking if he just listened. How you always ran over after a close call on missions, frantic about his safety and never expecting him to inquire about your wellbeing, even if you were covered in soot and limping away from an explosion. 

He realized you were giving more, much more to your…friendship, than he was. And that didn’t sit well with him. Your relationship was supposed to be transactional, and here you were, giving him attention and assistance and contact without expecting one damn solitary thing in return. Always giving, never receiving, and he…

He was a fucking prick. 

Horrible, awful scenarios started coming to mind after that. For two days, he thought about what would happen if you got transferred, or completed your service and left, or, stars-forbid, got shot. A concept he’d never considered before. You were always there, always constant as Tech’s pointing finger and Echo’s whirring attachments.

The idea of you leaving him - and he was completely arrogant for never seriously entertaining the thought - was frightening. And Crosshair didn’t do frightened.

The worst part? While he was drowning in inner turmoil due to his asshole brothers and your own damn sweetness, you were waltzing around, perfectly fine. You had never given any outward indication that you wanted something real from him, something more than a smokescreen of orgasms and sharp banter. Now that he knew how much you cared, now that he’d heard that you liked him no matter how hard you tried to hide it, he couldn’t let it go.

You’d been contenting yourself with his hands on your body and his lackluster personality for months, when, according to his brothers, you’d really wanted something deeper. Did you think he would reject you, or that he wasn’t capable of anything more to begin with? Both possibilities stung, a lot deeper than he’d ever supposed they would. Especially as he realized that neither of them were unreasonable of you to assume. Suddenly, he was furious.

That’s how he ended up with his cock down your throat in the back of the Marauder, while everyone else was out on the town. Not in his bed, never in his bed. That was one of the rules he’d made, to stop things from getting too intimate. Instead he’d had you kneel, and you’d done it with a wry smile and no questions. He’d planned to fuck these thoughts out of his head, but as it turns out, his brain was thinking the fuck out of his dick, so to speak. 

So instead, he leaned against the wall, gazing at you. You still kneeled, still waited patiently while he’d stared for who knows how long. 

You deserved better. 

The thought was pounding against his skull, incessant and refusing to leave. And Crosshair knew there were only two ways to resolve it. He could walk away, wish you well, and hope that you found someone who could give you a true relationship, no matter what it might cost him.

Or…he could try to be worthy of you.

The first option entailed less risk, and was definitely more his style. He couldn’t be bad at a relationship if he never tried to give you one. But the thought of someone else seeing you like this, or worse, someone else seeing you in ways he hadn’t yet…on a beach, walking down a colorful city street, riding a speeder bike, in the snow…

He stood abruptly and crossed over to your languishing form. He had you in his arms in less than a second, and had you laying on his bunk in less than five more. 

“Cross, wha-?” you protested. You knew the rules, knew his boundaries, and tried to sit up and leave. 

He grasped your shoulders and gently pushed you back, “Please.” Was all he said, whispered and hoarse. He worried at his lip without realizing it. Your eyes widened, and you let him lean you back on his pillows. He fidgeted with them, trying to make them fluffier than the GAR issued sacks of foam they really were, and you quirked a brow.

“You fucking with me, Cross?” you asked, and he could tell you were putting real effort into keeping the trepidation out of your voice. “Because this is a real weird joke.”

Okay, he deserved that one. But his words were stuck somewhere between his brain and his mouth. How was he supposed to know how to tell a woman he liked her anyway? If the Kaminoans included a class on charm somewhere in their training programs, he definitely didn’t get an invite.

Maybe you would be better off with someone who didn’t spend their days getting up close and personal with other people through a fucking scope. 

But all this staring was starting to freak you out. You were sitting awkwardly, legs open, tits out, under his genetically superior gaze. Crosshair didn’t know what kind of face he’d been making, but it clearly wasn’t one you were used to. You crossed your arms over your chest and turned your head to the side, away from him.

“Are we done?” You ground out through a set jaw, a slightly trembling lip. “Is this…ahem…is this over? Because you could just tell me, you don’t have to try and make it easier. I can just go back to my bunk and…and…”

He caught the sheen in your eyes, the catch in your throat. Fuck. Fuck.

“I-I want you…” stars, he can’t even talk. Damn you. Damn him. He cleared his throat. “I. want. you. to stay… there.”

Well, it sounded like it was being tortured out of him, but at least it got your attention. You turned back to look at his face, “You want me to stay here.” You said evenly, jerking your head towards his shabby pillows. “In your bed. Where I’m never, ever supposed to be.”

He swallowed, mouth dry as hell, and nodded. You were so much better at this, so much stronger than he was. He couldn’t do anything but spill his guts in what was probably the least romantic way possible. 

So he did, “I want to try…something else.”

Your lips parted just a fraction, and something seemed to click behind your eyes. But you were tough, tougher than he ever gave you credit for, and you never gave him any ground. Oh you were gentle about it, cool satin to his rough burlap. He suspected it was the healer in you. But you always demanded communication from him, demanded that he explain his behavior, even if it took him a while.

“Something else,” the hitch in your voice had disappeared. “You’re going to have to explain that one to me, babe. You know I’ll try something new, and we have a safe word, but this violates your rules, and I don’t know how to act now. I don’t know what’s okay.”

Babe. It slipped out of your mouth every so often, usually in a teasing lilt over comms during a battle. He didn’t know if he loved it or hated it, but it always brought a sudden heat to his face. He felt the tips of his ears burning.

“I…” c’mon, bastard. You can get this out, you have to get this out. She’s waiting. “I want… toforgettherules.”

“I’m sorry? One more time?”

Brat. In any other circumstance, he’d have you over his knee for something like that. But he took a deep breath, like the ones he’d take before making an impossible shot. And maybe that’s what this was, “I want to forget the rules.”

Your eyes alighted with something like hope, “Why?”

Yes Crosshair, you stupid prick, tell the lady why. He needed to get his head examined. He was talking to himself more than usual. And now he’d started to sound like Hunter.

“Because,” he ground out, teeth clenched. “You deserve…better…than what I’ve been giving you. But I…I don’t want anyone else to deserve you.”

You sat with that for just a moment. And then you brought a hand up to your mouth and giggled. It was such a happy sound, he was almost completely unoffended. 

“You like me,” you murmured, eyes full of mirth and pure, honest delight.

He let out a shaky breath. It was almost a chuckle, “I like you. You’re a little shit, and you give me a heart attack half the time. But I like you.”

“And… I’m allowed to like you back?” This question was tentative, small. Not how he wanted to see you. You should be bright, confident, unafraid to show your brilliance. A fierceness crept into his heart.

“You get to like whatever you damn well please,” he growled, then softened slightly. “But…it would be nice if you liked me.”

You hummed, and dropped the arms covering your gorgeous breasts to cup his face in both hands. Your fingers moved in his cropped strands of hair, but he resisted the urge to close his eyes at the peace it brought him. 

“I like you, more than I ever thought you’d want me to,” you almost-whispered. Then you grinned that same grin you got when Wrecker offered to let you press a detonator. “But if you want in on this, babe, if you want some kind of commitment, I’ve got some rules of my own.”

Strangely, the thought didn’t concern him nearly as badly as it had a day ago. He didn’t know shit about real relationships. He wanted you, and if you gave him some kind of guide to go off of, well, at least there was less of a chance of him fucking it up. 

Crosshair nodded, and your smile grew wider, joy sparkling in your eyes.

“First of all,” you began. “You have to say good morning and good night to me. You also have to hold my hand every so often, and let me kiss your cheek. I promise not to embarrass you…too much.”

He huffed a little, but conceded, “Agreed. Anything else?”

“Oh this is an ongoing list. There will be amendments,” you chirped happily. “I require actual conversation daily, and I get to sleep next to you after we fuck.”

“What do you take me for? Of course you get to-”

“No getting jealous of my guy friends, including your brothers. Like when I give them hugs or candies or-.”

“The regs absolutely cannot be trusted-”

“Ha! I knew you’d be a jealous boyfriend. Oh yeah! And I get to introduce you as my boyfriend from now on.”

Crosshair’s mild disgust must have shown on his face, because you laughed outright, “What about partner? Lover? Fuckbuddy?”

He rolled his eyes, “I’ll make ‘boyfriend’ work. Can I kiss you now or does the princess have more proclamations?”

That shut you up. Despite all the other parts of him you’d had in your mouth, one of his rules had been no kissing on the lips. Your eyes glazed over, and he smirked and leaned forward.

Your lips were so soft, plush and sorely neglected. A vague sense of regret and longing overtook him. How the hell had he managed to avoid kissing you until now? It didn’t really matter. He decided, as you let out a little hum of surprise, that it was about to become his new ritual. Every morning, every night, every time he could drag you into a private little alcove, he’d do it, just to get a chance to press his lips to yours.

He pushed forward, his tongue licking at the line of your lips, and you whined. His cock pulsed, and he began steadily rocking it against your clothed thigh. You opened your mouth eagerly and he dove in. Oh this was divine.

“Never thought,” he mumbled into your mouth. “Never thought it’d be like this.”

“Like…what?” you gasped.

“This…this fucking… brilliant. Stars, your mouth…”

You groaned, and he moved to sweep his deft tongue along your jaw, up to your ear. He bit at your earlobe, and your hips began doing some involuntary rocking of their own. Crosshair growled in your ear, satisfied when you shivered.

He stopped though, when he felt your stealthy hand cup his balls through his pants, “No,” he rasped, taking your wrist in hand and bringing the misbehaving appendage up to nip at your squirming fingers. “I told you, doll. I want… to try… something else.”

“Letting me call the shots would be something else,” you whined, still wiggling in his grasp.

He shook his head, “Not tonight,” he said, sounding out of breath. “Tonight, you just lay there. Look pretty. Look fucking gorgeous because that’s what you are, and keep making little noises for me.”

You whimpered at that, and he smirked. But it wasn’t his usual cocky, infuriating twist of the lips. This was an adorable half smile, part disbelieving, part alive with anticipation. 

Your pants were hastily removed, and while your shoes caused a bit of an obstacle, Crosshair simply wrenched them off and tossed them over his shoulder. One landed with a thump on the durasteel floor - a place he swore you would never be kneeling unprotected again. He was pretty sure the other ended up in Tech’s bunk. 

Crosshair traced his hands down your legs and slowly, ever so slowly pulled your knees further apart. You were pressed back against the pillows, open and waiting for him, and his heart rose to a furious din in his ears. He was almost positive you could hear it. 

He was seized with another fit of insecurity. How was he supposed to know how to cater to you like this? He knew how to grasp your throat just hard enough that your eyes would roll back into your head. He knew how you liked to be tied down and spanked. This wasn’t even the first time he had held your legs apart and let you squirm under his attention. But tenderness… communicating one’s feelings with one’s body… he didn’t even know how to begin. 

His eyes flicked to your face, flushed with shyness and lust. Your kind, welcoming eyes, more open in every breath than he was in his entire lifetime. You bit your lip.

You have to try to be worthy of her, he thought to himself. And he turned his attention to your pussy.

Still clothed in your thin, basic panties, the solid color was stained dark with your wetness. Crosshair cursed, and slowly descended between your legs.

First, he kissed your knees, not bleeding but definitely scraped, and the gentle touch of his lips had you sighing. You’d never made that sound before, that exhale of pure contentment. He wanted more of it. 

You flinched and squirmed as he ran his tongue down your inner thigh, but he held you fast. You weren’t getting away from him. Not now, not when he was finally ready to really try. 

Crosshair knew where you wanted him. You weren’t exactly subtle with the canting of your hips and the nervous fluttering of your fingers over the sheets. Your breaths were coming in short bursts of want. Stars, how were you this sensitive already? He’d seen you in a state of pre-orgasmic distress plenty of times, had made you beg for him past the point where you could speak in coherent sentences, but never had he seen such simple, sweet touches electrify you in this way.

Instead of lowering his mouth to your pussy, though, Crosshair moved to lick and nip at your hip bone. You squealed and moaned, and he decided he’d never heard such an addicting sound.

He brought his tongue across your belly, snapping the waistband of your panties with his teeth before teasing your other hip. Your whimpering was a constant symphony in his dark bunk. He pulled back and chanced a peek at your face. Your eyes were shining with yearning. You had one hand in your hair. He reached up, tugged your abused lip from between your teeth, worried that you’d draw blood, and glanced back down.

The wet spot on your panties had grown, and finally, with a lighter touch than he’d ever directed towards you, Crosshair ran a knuckle up and down your clothed center. You keened, and threw your head back on his feeble pillows, which had flattened almost completely under you. 

I need to get new ones, he thought absently as he tugged your panties to the side, exposing your dripping core. She deserves to be fucked on real pillows. 

He lowered his head, and you were both gone. 

Crosshair had tasted you before, often as a tease while you were tied up and helpless. But not often, and not thoroughly. He usually enjoyed watching your face while taking you apart with his fingers, snarling demeaning pet names into your ear. But this…this was transcendent. You tasted like home, like he could live his entire life and die between your legs. He drank from you slowly, meticulously, lapping at your entrance and circling your clit before closing his lips around it and lightly sucking. Your legs were trembling within minutes. Every few seconds, garbled, meaningless sounds escaped from your throat and spurred him on. He gently, reverently pushed a finger into your hot center, caressing the spot you both loved. You seized up…, and let go.

He rocked you lovingly through your orgasm, fingering you slightly and keeping his mouth clamped around your clit. Your pussy spasmed, your hips jerked, and your mouth opened in a silent scream. 

But he didn’t stop. 

Crosshair began again, stroking your throbbing clit with his tongue, refusing to allow the fire in your abdomen to subside. Now that he’d really tasted you, now that he’d felt you fall apart on his lips, his only goal was to make it happen again.

“C-cross!” you yelled, hand flying down to his hair. You tugged hard, and he groaned.

“More,” he mumbled into your cunt. His fingers pressed at that tender spot inside you, and your head flew back. You shrieked and writhed on his bed, dripping onto the sheets. 

You were moaning with every breath, tensing your legs and frantically thrusting your hips towards his waiting mouth. Your toes curled repeatedly in the corners of his vision. Your pussy was red and swollen, your slick arousal running down his hand and wrist. 

Crosshair curled his fingers inside of you and allowed his teeth to gently catch against your begging clit, and your second orgasm hit like a lightning strike. You seized up, screaming your release to the ceiling of his bunk. He gently lapped at your clit as you came down, your yells turning to sobs. Tears spilled down your face and onto your chest. You reached for him, and he encircled your shaking body with his arms.

“Shhhhh,” he hushed into your hair. “You’re alright…you’re alright…I…I’ve got you, mesh’la.”

You pulled back, tears tracking your cheeks as you stared into his eyes, “Y-you’ve never called me that before.”

Crosshair knew you understood the word. Echo called you mesh’la on occasion, Wrecker too. “I felt left out,” he said. “I should get to remind you of how beautiful you are more than anyone else.”

You sniffed, and threw your arms around him, “You’re beautiful too,” he heard you mumble, and his heart swelled. “But…”

“But what, doll?”

Your voice took on a fierce, desperate tone, “If you don’t get inside me right now, we’re going to have our first fight.” 

Crosshair was stunned, but only for a moment. This was why he lo…liked you in the first place. 

He took on the domineering tone he usually had with you in these situations, “Demanding girls don’t get what they want.”

But you just grinned, and lifted your chin, “Girlfriend privilege.”

He threw his head back and laughed. What had he gotten himself into? 

He couldn’t wait to find out.

“Just this once, mesh’la.”

You practically went limp in his arms as his straining, red cock breached your entrance. He stilled for just a moment, relishing in the feeling of being inside you. When you looked up at him, eyes shining with something he dare not name, not yet, he felt complete.

Crosshair grabbed hold of your hair and yanked, and you squealed from the pull of his hand and the push of his cock. This much he was sure of: he knew how you liked to be fucked, and he didn’t have it in him to be gentle any longer. And though he wouldn’t last as long as he’d like, no one could accuse him of not being a giving lover.

“Just like that, good girl,” he growled. You whined and writhed, impaled on his cock and unable to even think. “You just lay back, and come for me one more time.”

“Cross…I-I can’t.”

“You can,” he assured you, and his thumb went down to ever so gently move on your clit. “You’ve done it for me before, and you’re going to do it for me again. Scream, bite me if you have to, but you are going to give me one more.”

You wailed, hips thrusting up, frantically trying to match his rhythm. Crosshair released your hair to grab your throat. He leaned in, a hair's breadth away from your ear, and whispered, “That’s it, that’s my good girl.”

You tensed, and he grinned, “You like that? You like knowing you’re mine? That this mouth, these tits, this pussy all belong to me?” He started moving faster, keeping that pressure on your throbbing clit. He bit at your ear, “But remember, mesh’la, just because you’re my girl doesn’t mean I won’t fuck you like the slut we both know you are.”

That did it. Your cunt clenched around him, and you let out an ear-piercing scream. Your release came in strong, crashing waves, wiping your mind of anything else and soaking both of you. Crosshair couldn’t hold out any longer. He buried himself to the hilt and came deep inside you, and you shuddered with the aftershocks, so full and sated Crosshair swore you’d fallen asleep.

He was wrong. You lifted a trembling hand to his face and smiled gently at him, “Thank you, Cross.”

He scoffed, “Nothing to be thankful for. Not like we haven’t done this a hundred times.”

But you shook your head, “We’ve never done this before.” You gestured at the mess you’d made in his bed, at your tangled limbs and the invisible closeness that still existed between you, even after the amazing sex. “Thank you for trying.”

Crosshair felt his strength leave him. He gathered you up, and buried his face in your chest, taking deep, calming breaths, “Don’t let me coast on it.” He murmured. “Don’t cut me any slack. I’m bad at this.”

He heard your giggle from above, “A little unpolished, maybe, but I’ve never seen you fail to excel at something you were determined to accomplish.” You stroked his hair. “We’ll be fine, babe.”

“We need to talk about that nickname.”

“I can think of others,” you teased. “Honey, sweetie, my little tooka-”

He made a gagging noise against your breasts, and you were outright laughing, “Babycakes, darling, love-”

Crosshair knew he’d tensed up at that last one, had let a little gasp escape in his contentment. He blamed the recent orgasm. But you’d heard it, and you stopped laughing.

“Oh…” he heard your voice take on a strange tone, and finally looked up at your face. You looked…shy. Shy and happy. You nodded, “Love, then. I can make that work.”

He felt his ears burning, and he turned his face back into your chest. A sudden possessiveness overtook him, and he gathered you closer, “You can’t…” he mumbled. “You can’t call anyone else that.”

You were quiet for a moment, probably remembering all of the interchangeable nicknames you liked to use with his brothers. Then he felt your hands grab his face - still hiding in your breasts like a coward - and turn it toward your own. You smiled down at him. 

“And that, love, is what we call boyfriend privilege.”

Crosshair gazed at you in amazement, then felt a rare smile break out over his face. He hugged you close, took his time kissing your lips again. He knew, in a moment, he would tell you to stay where you are as he got up and did something he’d never done for you before - clean you up himself. It’s something he would insist on doing from here on out.

Because, he decided, that’s what your boyfriend would do. And, as he was realizing rather quickly, he did not want anyone else to earn that title. 

It was his. And he was yours. 

[hurt-comfort-lover]

The Snow White Remake Could Have Been Good

This is pretty much what I would change/what I would've done for the Snow White Remake. If you want to write a fanfiction inspired by this please send the link to me so I can read it and if you could credit that would be appreciated. Please let me know your thoughts on my interpretation <3

Have the prince and Snow white be childhood best friends

Probably like neighboring kingdoms were close and the intentions were that the prince was eventually going to marry snow white when they were adults

I still want Snow White to be shy at first, but as the prince gets to know her he sees how passionate and kind she is and he admires it.

Snow white admires how strong and confident the prince is in himself. It’s sort of a mutual respect kind of thing. 

As they got older Snow white and the prince would spar occasionally for fun, he would always win but he respected the effort she put in. She would show him books that she enjoyed etc. Like I want really cute cut-scenes of them together

I like having the dad, but I want to see more scenes with him and snow white. 

Like him mourning his wife's death, and struggling while still doing his best to care of his daughter would be so fucking cute and sad.

Also seeing him be a good king, prioritizing his people by giving out free food, or building new houses and buildings, Training with the knights, and prioritizing his employees health and wellbeing. 

Would love to see him teaching his daughter to be kind and compassionate to everyone including the servants and knights, etc.

I want a more menacing evil queen. 

I want her to first, actually be pretty, but in a menacing way. Like Ursula in the little mermaid vibes when she pretended to be human.

I would like to actually see the queen kill the king, specifically poison him, assuming she has some sort of experience with that which is why she later tries to poison Snow White. Even if it’s implied and we don’t see him physically die.

I want some banter between the mirror and the evil queen. Like maybe the mirror is sick of being stuck in the same room, and being asked the same stupid questions

Maybe she asks who’s the fairest of them all and he’s like ‘As I’ve said a million times it’s- oh.. It’s not you.’ and he’ll like smirk or hold back laughter.

And yes I said he because the mirror has a man's voice and if he has more of a personality then I will personify him.

When she becomes queen after killing off the king I want to see her doing shitty things. Like stopping the food giveaways to make the castle more extravagant. Hiring an excessive amount of servants that do everything for her. Fancy clothes and money for her private personal hobby (collecting poisons or like dark magical items) 

I want the king to die pretty early compared to where the story starts

I’d say around when Snow White is a pre-teen, doesn’t need to be exact. I prefer for the actual story to start when she’s an adult, or almost an adult so it’s more modern standards but we don’t need an exact age

When the king died the changes were sudden, the queen show’s her true colors immediately, having snow white work as a maid.

Snow White tried arguing with the queen but it resulted in her being locked in the dungeon for days. I want a scene where she crawls out of the dungeon and she looks completely defeated, somehow more pale than usual, bags under her eyes, shaking from hunger and pain. 

The maids from when the king was in charge are very protective of Snow White and still call her princess despite the changes.

Snow White works as a maid, doing her best to take care of her people from the sidelines despite her position. She helps the other servants and knights if they get hurt, and gives the little food she has away if someone is starving. 

Pretty much she’s very close to the other servants and knights. 

When the king died the prince and her lost contact. His family tried to contact Snow White’s kingdom multiple times with no response after hearing of the king's death.

The prince is conflicted because he can imagine the pain Snow White is going through but doesn’t understand why she won’t reach out for help. Why is she ignoring him? 

When the story actually starts it’ll be very similar to the original Snow White movie

The queen finds out Snow White is the fairest of them all despite working as a ‘filthy servant’

She doesn’t want to get her hands dirty again and with her plentiful resources why should she? She hires a huntsman to kill Snow White.

One of the servants overhear and warns Snow White right away, all of the servants help her by giving her a small amount of food and clothes and help her run away to the forest.

Despite getting out of the castle the huntsman still finds her anyway. She stumbles back, trying to scramble away, backed against a tree. 

He stands over her, suddenly drawing his blade and going to strike. His hands shake as he goes for the stab, only to stab the tree beside her instead, only inches away from her face.

He apologizes, saying that he can’t live with the guilt of killing her. He tells her to run away, deep into the forest where the queen can never find her. She forgives him, hugging him gratefully for sparing her life and runs off into the forest.

I don’t want to go too much in depth with her relationship with the animals. It’s not super significant to the plot itself other than maybe like the animals lead her to the Seven Dwarfs cottage. 

When she finds the random cottage deep in the woods she feels grateful but guilty for breaking into someone’s home. But she’s desperate, she needs somewhere to stay before it gets dark.

When she enters the cottage she immediately shudders at the mess, as someone who lived in a very clean castle she was immediately uncomfortable with the mess. 

She gets to work cleaning the ridiculous mess. I guess technically in the original the animals helped which I feel like doesn’t change the story significantly so it’s fine either way

The beds are made, the kitchen is clean, the sink is empty, dishes are put away, floors are swept, laundry is done, and she made soup and bread. (this is basically like the original)

Pretty much the same as the original except for it takes a little longer for the dwarfs to initially accept her, where they were pretty quick in the original. Like they are literally storing a fugitive and risking their lives. The queen is evil and everyone knows it.

Also I want the dwarfs to have separate beds, idk why but that’s important to me. 

I want lots of banter between the dwarfs, each other, and snow white. I want the dwarves to gradually enjoy Snow White’s company, and appreciate what she does.

I also want a bit of lecturing from Snow White about making sure dirty dishes go in the sink, or that dirty clothes need to go in the hamper, not on the floor.

Meanwhile: Over the years the prince and his kingdom (which neighbors Snow White’s kingdom) finds out about the conditions of her kingdom.

He’s conflicted, angry because the conditions of the kingdom are exactly the opposite of what he expected, This is not what her father would have wanted. 

At the same time he’s worried for Snow White because those who have come as a refugee to his kingdom have no idea what happened to Snow White.

Now that he’s officially an adult he decides he’s going to visit Snow White’s kingdom, to confront the queen and Snow White, to see what’s going on.

His parents were against it not wanting to cause a war, but eventually decided to let him go as more and more refugees were coming to their kingdom. Something wasn’t right.

The Evil Queen obviously finds out that Snow White is not dead.

The mirror tells her reluctantly and she orders the huntsman to be thrown in the dungeon for treason. 

The rest is like the original where she decides to do it herself. She goes through her collection finding the odorless and tasteless poison and pours it on the red apple, knowing the red apples are Snow White’s favorite. (Have a previous scene that establishes that)

Uses her magical items that she’s collected to pretend to be an old lady, comes to Snow white (the mirror tells her where Snow White is) and offers her the apple, begging her to buy something because she’s poor and old and you know the drill.

Snow White eats the apple and immediately falls asleep. The Dwarves find her and she looks dead so they are pretty pissed. Chase sequence ensues, but in this version the evil queen gets away.

I want the colors to be slightly duller than before, slightly darker.

I want a scene where they each desperately try to wake her up to no avail, it’s super fucking sad and angsty and I will eat that shit up.

The dwarves are devastated, surrounding her in flowers like the original. I think they would put her in like a wooden coffin without a lid because the glass case just doesn’t fit the vibes I’m going for but again weird unimportant detail.

I can’t figure out a good reason as to why the prince happens to run into the dwarves and dead-ish snow white. 

I guess I could say that he was coming from that direction, and that the dwarves' cottage is near the border, but it feels a bit forced because I need to move the story along so any suggestions would be great.

When the prince sees Snow White laying there lifeless he immediately draws his sword, jumping off of his horse.

He would’ve attacked the dwarves, but it was so obvious that they were depressed, barely acknowledging him. 

I want a million different emotions flashing through the prince's face, the biggest one being guilt. If he had just come sooner- maybe he could’ve saved her.

Might be creepy to the modern viewer but idc, he decides to give her a kiss to wish her bye.  

I want the colors to slowly fade back to be warm and vibrant as snow white’s eyes flutter open. 

Everyone is crying except for Snow White including the prince and so when they suddenly hear her voice, which by the way she is really confused, the tears become of joy and relief instead of sadness. 

As she sits up in the coffin the dwarves jump in excitement and cheer as the prince pulls her into an embrace immediately.

I want a really dorky scene where the prince is awkwardly like Hi and Snow white says hi back with a really sweet smile or something omg I’m kicking my feet that would be so cute.

Ok now for revenge pretty much and Evil Queen suffering

Snow White promises to return to the dwarfs as she and the prince get on his horse. (No it’s not horse abuse Snow White is light due to being malnourished)

Definitely want her clinging to the prince, wrapping her arms around his waist.

Would be so cute if he was a bit flushed ngl

They return to the castle where the queen is raging, she had been mildly hurt when she got chased by the dwarves.

The Prince and Snow White come in, the prince is pissed and threatens the Queen's life, calling her out for trying to kill Snow white. 

The Queen orders the knights to kill Snow White and the prince, she's screeching in anger, and her hair is a mess and she just looks crazy.

The knight look at the Queen and Snow White reluctantly, one takes a step forward, but still hesitates. Snow White calls him out by name, telling him she understands his position, it’s ok. He can’t do it. None of the knights can. One by one they all switch sides, standing behind the Snow White and the prince. 

Queen is even more mad, screaming and trying to use a cursed magical item she carried on her. A ring that could burn anything instantly. She slipped on her finger and tried to use it, before she could she suddenly felt burning on her skin. She desperately tries to take off the ring but is unable to. Or if you want to be child friendly she turns into dust.

I get my Happily Ever After where the Huntsman is freed, Snow White becomes Queen and marries the prince.

 Also the dwarfs get rewarded with an honorable badge for courage, bravery, or kindness something along those lines. 

We get to see the kingdom begin to heal, Snow White getting rid of the extravagant things of the Evil Queen, and giving food to the poor. 

Probably the ending scene would be the wedding of the Prince and Snow White. Maybe like all the dwarfs are the ring bearers except for Dopey who is the flower dwarf or something idk lol. The maids that helped Snow White, the huntsman, and the prince's parents would be there. Lots and lots of fluff. 

[beeboopneep]

:)

I firmly believe that the batfam would be a half-decent family to be adopted into while not knowing about their Nighttime Activities TM... at least in the beginning.

Lets say that Kiddo gets dropped off after the death of their last guardian (mother, most likely) and somehow the cops get their hands on a letter or something that says that Kiddo is Bruce Wayne's biological child. CPS wouldn't DNA test a child otherwise, but with some sort of evidence they may. Either way, something tells me that as soon as Bruce was notified of the possible child he would get the test done lol. While that processes the kid would end up in foster care (yikes! Gotham foster care is def rough af) whether Bruce is a foster father or not (that sounds like a problematic placement and he'd probably have to pull strings if he wanted to take care of them during this time). So, for 3-14 days an already traumatized, possibly orphaned child waits in limbo in a cesspool of a foster system. Trauma on top of trauma. And then the results come back and Yay! You've got a daddy!

So they pack up everything and go live with the People's Billionaire who they have definitely seen scandals of on the news before. Can you imagine the thoughts going through their head at the time? Are the other kids gonna bully me? Does he even want biological kids? Is he abusive? Neglectful? Pervy?? Does he really drink that damn much and fall in that many damn fountains?!?

And then they'd meet him and he'd be... stoic? And awkward and kind of cold? Which they could definitely take wrong (Bruce is emotionally inept, not malicious) and assume he hates them off the bat. They withdraw, straining themselves and the barely-there relationship more. The ink's still fresh on their adoption and they already want to leave.

Anyway, lets say things pick up. They meet Dick, the emotional center of the household, and then Jason, their caring (if abrasive) older brother, and so on. They start to find their place. Maybe they still struggle to warm up to Bruce or really feel like on of his kids, especially since everyone else seems so comfortable.

But Dick invites them to get ice cream and burgers and whatever else just as an excuse to spend time with them and make sure they're adjusting well (or enough to be expected). Jason teaches them to punch and how to finally get A's on the English assignments, and how to actually like their English assignments. He buys them fancy bookmarks and they pretend not to notice that he has the same one (they match!). Tim comes to them whenever he finds out a new fact he thinks they'll like and lets you pull coffees out of his hands without too much complaint after he's surpassed his daily limit (he only gives a grumble and an affectionate look) Cass teaches Kiddo all the best places to hide during hide-and-seek and pulls you into her side during movie nights. Cass makes sure you always have someone to eat with if them want it and brings back food whenever she's out. After some work, Damian even lets you help him train Titus!

But they still can't quite settle in because... where did everyone go at night?

If Kiddo's home situation before wasn't exactly ideal then they'd be a light sleeper, which is how they'd wake, and if not it's because they go down for a glass of water or something and see way too many bedroom doors open and beds empty on their way. Either way, after living with people for so long they'd catch on.

They notice that every single person in the household had been unaccounted for at some time. Every single one of their siblings plus both adults in the house were getting together every night to do something without them.

The realization was like a stone at the bottom of their stomach. And so, they start to pull away.

And everyone notices.

[copperbadge]

Thank you so much for your post on ADHD and managing communication. It was really interesting see your thought process and an example of how you set up systems that work for you. I was wondering if you'd mind sharing a little about how you handle task management (the “make sure you do the tasks promptly” part). This is something I (also only diagnosed with ADHD as an adult) feel like I really struggle with, especially at work. Thanks!

I wish I had as...systematic an explanation for that as I do for other aspects of my work and life management, to be honest. For me the most important part is remembering that I even need to do the thing in the first place, so I always focus on systems that will help with that. While I do have trouble starting projects sometimes, I rarely have trouble finishing them, so that aspect is not the most significant part of the struggle for me and not something I've spent as much time on. Still, I do have some advice!

For me the problem, when it happens, is almost always with getting started. I have a few strategies for that. The very first is to remind myself that it's never going to take as long or be as hard as I think it is. That kind of reminder has to feel true and that truth really only comes with time -- you have to be taught over and over, through experience, that "the task isn't that awful". For this the best I can recommend is, every time you finish something, take a moment to stop and reflect how hard it was to get started, and how once you got started it was actually much easier than you thought it would be. If you can identify "being scared of starting" as being the hardest part, eventually you can come to believe that the fear is normal and can be ignored because it's also your brain lying to you.

Another thing I do very often is break tasks I don't want to do (or am struggling to start) into extremely granular portions. If I have to make a powerpoint presentation, and I'm struggling to know where to begin, I'll take it really small steps at a time. Like, my to-do list for the presentation might read:

Open Powerpoint

Fill out the title slide

Gather all research into a folder (do not open any of it)

Start reviewing your research one file at a time

Start sorting your research into appropriate groups based on subject matter or where in the presentation they'll go

Look at the way your research is grouped, just look for a while

Which part of the research would you tell someone to start with if they're new to the subject matter?

That's slide one.

Usually at that point I'm in the "flow" enough that I can stop looking at those granular steps, but it's also fucking astonishing how often just opening the program I need to do the thing in can drop me into the project so deep I'll surface hours later having nearly completed it.

So my first step for any task, once I know it's time to work on it, is just to open the program needed and gather all my resources in one place and give myself permission to ONLY do that. Those two things, which are easy in themselves (they usually don't need much thought) trigger that "this is what I'm doing now" state and even if I don't finish the project, I will at least make headway. This works in non-digital, non-work ways too -- if you're going to paint a wall, gather all your supplies first in one place and make sure you have everything you need. In the process of doing that you start to become more at ease with the idea of actually doing it, and even if you don't do it right that minute, now you're actually feeling prepared for when you do.

And honestly even knowing all that I still struggle sometimes. That's just the nature of the beast. Adderall helps a lot, and age has helped because I know what I'm capable of and it's often more than I believe at the start. But it's just always going to take more energy for me than for some people. Making sure I'm fed, rested, clean, and medicated helps a great deal, so I recommend looking after yourself when you DON'T have a project looming, but I also recommend giving yourself some grace when you do -- these things are just the challenges we face.

[flowerandblood]

The Taste of Desire (AU)

[ dom!modern • Aemond x friend sister • female ]

[ warnings: sex with soft domination, fingering, smut, angst, sexual tension, remorse, doubts related to sex work ]

[ description: Aemond works as a professional dom, fulfilling the various fantasies of his female clients − however, he guards his privacy and does not enter into any relationships with them, recognizing that he does not want or need it. One of his clients surprises him with her behaviour, making him experience something he has never felt before, with his own actions and emotions slipping out of his control. Sexual tension, doubts related to sex work. ]

This oneshot is an alternative universe for my series The Taste of Shame in which Aemond meets the main character as his client. It shows how their lives would have turned out and what their first time would have been like if Aemond had done it for money. Created to celebrate my anniversary on 22 March.

Series & Characters Moodboard Aemond NSFW Alphabet

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

My other series: Masterlist

_____

He was never picky when it came to his female clients. They had to meet basic standards like hygiene, no venereal diseases and they couldn't go beyond a certain time, but once they signed a confidentiality clause, what he was going to do with them was no longer important to him.

He kept repeating to himself that he was there for them, not them for him, so he focused on giving them what they wanted in a way that didn't disturb his comfort zone.

He did not allow them to kiss or touch him with their hands − in fact, he preferred that any involvement they had in what was happening was minimal. What he found most pleasing in the whole act was his violence towards them, and the more they consented to, the more he was satisfied.

Their pleas and cries of pain combined with some subconscious pleasure that such sadomasochism gave them made him struggle to hold back the mocking smile that pressed against his lips.

They wanted to be treated like worthless objects, and that's what he was giving them, because that's exactly how he thought of them.

He didn't try to delve into considering what he thought of himself, because he decided that would end up with a visit to a psychiatrist. He was studying quantum physics, lived far away from his family and needed a steady, high source of income − since silly girls could make money from sex cams, he could make money that way, at least until he had no other prospects.

The only way to contact him was through an online form on his website, where they would write why they wanted to meet, indicate what suited them or not, and if he felt he could meet their whims, he would arrange to meet them to discuss the details and sign the documents.

Scrolling through dozens of similar messages about tying, gagging, beating and humiliation he stopped on one where only a few things were marked. He thought surprised that he wouldn't even link them to aggressive domination per se, and certainly not the kind he usually used.

Good morning. I've been thinking a lot lately about what I'd like to try, but I'm also a bit embarrassed about it. I don't know if this can be subsumed under your interests − I'm completely inexperienced, so maybe that's why I'm looking for a professional who knows what he's doing and would be able to show me what I actually need and want. I apologise for the rather chaotic explanation and send my regards. Selected practices: spanking, verbal domination, fingering

He blinked and scratched his chin, both intrigued and uncertain at the same time − he glanced quickly at her age and saw that she was younger than him. He bit his lower lip feeling that something in the idea that she was still inexperienced and only willing to explore her needs attracted him, the thought that this would be some sort of challenge for him.

He decided that why not.

She was an adult.

He looked forward to meeting her with the utmost curiosity. Her requirements were basic enough that he didn't need to prepare any extra kinks, and since she didn't want sex with penetration, it also gave him a greater sense of confidence and peace of mind − he knew he wouldn't have to chase his orgasm, imagining some woman from porn, and would be able to concentrate only on what he was doing to her.

When he heard a quiet knock on the door of the flat he rented only to meet his female clients, he got up immediately from behind his desk and opened it for her, swallowing hard as his gaze involuntarily swept over her figure and stopped on her face.

God.

This was not what he had expected.

She looked even younger than she had written; her eyes were big and bright, looking at him with fear and dread, though usually the women who came to him, learned by experience, kept their gaze meekly on the floor, waiting for him to command them to look at himself.

She was dressed in a plain white Tshirt and high-waisted jeans, a fabric coloured backpack on her back, her hair loose, shiny, dark, slightly wavy − he could smell the fruity scent of her perfume or shower gel.

He grunted quietly, trying to keep a stony face, feeling that involuntarily his gaze expressed shock. He took a few steps back and invited her in − she stepped inside uncertainly, turning away quickly as he closed the door behind her.

"Come in. Do not be afraid." He said lowly, pointing to his desk which stood in the deeper part of the flat − she walked in that direction, looking in horror at the bed standing on the other side of the room.

He heard her swallow hard, tense and red, pulling her backpack off her back − she placed it in her lap immediately after she sat down in the chair opposite him, as if trying to ward off and protect herself from him in this way.

He took his seat on the other side and tapped his index finger on the top of his wooden oak desk, thinking that he had never had a client like her before.

She was completely distracted, her gaze sweeping across the room as if she were a curious child, her fingers tightening on the material of her rucksack.

"As I mentioned, first the contract and confidentiality clause." He said calmly, handing her copies of the contract and clause he had sent her earlier.

She took them from him and looked into his eyes again, making him swallow hard; it wasn't a defiant look and it wasn't meant to seduce him. It seemed to him just the opposite − she wanted to show him that some part of her was genuinely afraid of him.

She nodded, her hands trembling all over as she took the sheets of paper in her hands − she looked around quickly and clumsily grabbed a pen.

He wondered, seeing what was happening to her, if what she wanted was really good for her and although he never meddled in his clients' decisions, he decided to intervene, for her sake and his own.

"You can still resign. I won't burden you with the cost." He said lowly, watching her closely, and saw that she flinched all over. She lifted the gaze of her bright eyes to him, her eyebrows arched in indecision, her mouth opened and closed as if she was trying to get something out of herself.

"I…I think I want to try. This one time. Do you think it's a bad idea, sir?" She asked him in a trembling, soft, girlish voice. The note of innocence that lurked in this after all defiant question made him twist in his seat, feeling surprised that his manhood swelled a little − he felt like he was literally burning her with his gaze.

He thought it was because she was so vulnerable − it turned him on that he was more experienced than her and had real control over what could happen next if she wanted it.

He chuckled involuntarily at her words, shaking his head, sighing quietly, looking at her indulgently.

"What I think about it doesn't matter." He murmured lowly, leaning comfortably against the back of his chair with a loud creak of wood.

He felt heat in his lower abdomen at the thought of her not dropping her gaze, boldly staring him in the face as if they had known each other for a long time, despite the fact that most women knew their buttocks would be red and swollen like tomatoes for such insolence.

"I would, however, like to hear your views on the matter, sir." She replied quickly, as if she recognised him as some sort of authority on the matter, a sexologist or anyone else who could give her a diagnosis.

"I am not a doctor. However, I don't think there is anything wrong with trying under controlled conditions. You also have a safe word that you can use at any time to stop whatever I'm doing. You have to decide." He said finally, and saw her nod her head, drawing in air loudly as if gathering her courage, and leaned over, signing the documents in the spaces indicated.

For some reason he involuntarily licked his lips, dried from some kind of excitement, his cock twitching hard in his trousers at the thought that she was really going to do this.

When she finished he took the papers from her, signed them and gave her one copy, reminding her of all the rules they had agreed and what she could not do.

"You can't touch me or kiss me. When we start, you are to call me sir and follow all my instructions. You are to answer all my questions by shaking or nodding your head unless I order you otherwise. I will not stop even if you beg me or cry until I hear your safe word which, please remind us, sounds how?" He asked softly, stapling the papers she had signed with a stapler, tucking them into his drawer, watching her out of the corner of his eye, feeling the heat in his lower abdomen at the very thought of what he was going to do to her.

Why was he so aroused when he hadn't even touched her yet?

"Peach." She muttered embarrassedly, looking down at her hands.

For a moment he wondered if he should add the rule he usually made where a woman couldn't look him in the eye, but something in her eyes captured him − her gaze wasn't seductive or filled with feelings he didn't want to see. He also guessed that forbidding it might overwhelm her even more, and he didn't want that.

He nodded at her words, rising, and she rose with him, holding her backpack in front of her, her shoulders raised slightly in a defensive gesture, as if she was afraid of him and the fact that she had somehow given him control over her.

He approached her slowly, looking at her vigilantly − her eyes fixed on his face as his hand took the rucksack from her arms in a gentle motion, dropping it next to her on the floor. His fingers rose to her cheeks, trailing over them, her jaw and her chin − he felt her tremble all over, surprised, her swollen, plump lips red with emotion.

Although he had never done this, he wanted to get a good look at her first − he knew that going straight to putting his hand in her panties would only frighten her and in this situation his tactics had to be a tad different.

First and foremost, he wanted to reassure her.

He saw that she had closed her eyes, trying to breathe slowly through her mouth as his hands slid down to her neck and her soft hair. He thought, smelling her fruity scent, that he would have given anything to have her kneel before him and take his achingly hard manhood into her mouth.

He decided that perhaps he would use his thoughts to embolden her a little more and let him do what he wanted.

"Such a sweet girl. You have no idea what I'd like to do with those lips." He hummed, feeling a shiver pass through her as one of his hands rose higher again, to her face, parting her lips with his thumb. "How hard I am now."

He saw the shock in her gaze, which quickly escaped down to the bulge in his trousers, her cheeks flushed as she looked up into his face again, her breathing quickened and ragged.

He sighed involuntarily at the sight.

"You can say a lot of things about me, but not that I'm a liar. Open." He commanded in a slightly cooler, stricter tone, her lips immediately parted slightly, allowing his thumb to slide deep between her fleshy, wet lips.

"Suck." He instructed, a quiet moan caught in her throat, her body suddenly quivering as the fingers of his free hand slid lower to her breast, teasing her nipple in calm, circular motions, her lips tightening around his thumb, obeying his command.

"Do you always walk around without a bra? Hm? Do you like it when men look at them?" He muttered warningly, pulling lightly on her nipple, looking at her curiously − she squirmed helplessly, closing her eyes, not knowing what to do with her hands. He could see how, in some subconscious reflex, she wanted to lift them up and embrace him, but reminded herself that she couldn't do that and lowered them again, moving him in some way and arousing him at the same time.

He couldn't remember if his client had ever made him completely hard by her behaviour itself.

"Quiet. We haven't even started properly yet, and already you want me to slap your arse?" He growled mockingly, and she shook her head quickly, drawing in air loudly, looking at him with a pleading look of her big, bright eyes, which he felt between his thighs as his cock swelled unbearably, demanding attention.

"This is my last warning. Lie on your stomach." He said coldly, although inside he felt like his body was on fire.

She obediently pulled off her shoes and lay down on the bed, watching, embarrassed, as he slipped his thumb, moist with her saliva, between his lips and licked it. He quickly pulled off his sweatshirt and shoes, leaving in his black short-sleeved T-shirt and trousers, fixing his hair with a careless flick of his hand.

"Leave only your panties on." He added, hearing her quiet squeal as his large hand gave her one, light, sharp smack on her buttock, just as an encouragement to keep her going.

"Just like that. So pretty." He hummed, watching her undress, climbing onto the bed behind her. He involuntarily licked his lips and grinned in amusement when he saw that underneath her trousers she was wearing pretty lace panties in powder pink.

He thought she was like a lollipop or candy, a sweet little gift bought just for pure pleasure.

As she pulled off her t-shirt she clung with her breasts to the bedclothes, looking somewhere sideways towards the window as if she was afraid of how exposed she was, that she was lying half-naked in front of a strange man who, on top of that, she was going to have to pay for it.

Although he cursed himself for it in the back of his head, the sincerity and naturalness of her behaviour endeared her to him − he thought in disbelief that he wasn't sure that even if she had asked him to punish her more harshly or to cause her intense pain he would have been able to do it.

Would it give him pleasure.

He took her hair aside, exposing her long neck and back, felt her shudder all over as his fingers ran along her spine.

"Are you going to be good, or should I tie you up?" He murmured and she nodded quickly − he hummed under his breath, stroking her bare skin. "Use your words."

"I'll be good. Sir." She added quickly, hearing him shift suddenly in irritation. He let out a loud breath through his nose, leaning down, grasping her wrists in his hands, placing them on either side of her head, showing her the position he expected her to hold them in.

"Your hands are supposed to be here at all times. On the pillow. If I see you take them away from here, I'll tie you up and on top of that, I'll give you ten slaps on the bottom to make sure you remember this lesson well. Do you understand? Use your words." He hissed, driving his fingers into the skin of her wrists, heard her swallow hard and nod her head quickly.

"− y-yes, sir −"

He gasped softly, pleased with her answer and the way it was going − he saw her hands tighten on the material of the pillow as he settled his knees on either side of her buttocks, lowering himself onto them so that she could feel his cock throbbing all under the material of his trousers. She stifled the cry that wanted to escape her lips by pressing her face against his bedding.

"− do you fucking feel it? − do you feel what you're doing to me? −" He muttered, trying to calm his breathing, not knowing why instead of pulling himself together and concentrating on his task he was teasing her, making his manhood painfully hard − he clamped his eyelids shut when he felt her hips begin to buck uncertainly to the rhythm of his movements.

He decided that fuck it, he would do it the way he felt like it, breaking his own rules, knowing that unlike the other women, she really needed this.

His closeness.

She sighed loudly and her whole body trembled as he pressed his face against her soft, fragrant hair, crushing her with his own weight, his hands roamed over the skin of her bare shoulders and the sides of her waist as his nose slowly slid lower, down to her neck, his fingers slipped underneath her and tightened on her soft, plump breasts as his lips pressed against her bare skin.

He heard her start to pant loudly through her mouth, surprised as he was, surely imagining it differently, writhing beneath him, his fingers digging warningly into the soft skin of her breasts, his hot breath enveloping her ear.

"− lie still or we'll do it rough − spread your thighs −" He growled, his thumbs pressing and playing with her nipples. He spread her legs with his knees, making her breath catch in her throat − he could feel her heart pounding fast under his hands, his tongue ran over the bare skin of her neck, smelling the salty taste of her sweat and the sweet taste of her perfume.

"− you're already wet, hm? − shall we check? −" He sneered, sliding the palms of his one hand down her belly − he saw out of the corner of his eye that her fingers clenched tightly on the fabric of the pillow, her whole body stiffened, her head tilted slightly as his fingertips pushed the soft, soaked material of her underwear aside, sinking into her leaking, fleshy womanhood.

"− good God − look at you − all sticky and warm −" He gasped as his fingers began to tease and squeeze her clit lightly, giving her a few encouraging strokes from which helpless, muffled sounds tried to escape her throat − his hand let go of her breasts for a moment and slapped her buttock with all his might, reminding her that she was supposed to be quiet.

He didn't even notice when he started rubbing against her faster from the top, chasing his own fulfilment, completely aroused by what was happening to her, how she was responding to him.

He felt like his cock was about to explode.

"− moan for me − let me hear these sweet sounds −" He whispered in her ear, driving his fingers harder into the soft, leaking structure of her folds.

Moan for me?

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He sighed when she cried out loudly, clenching her eyes, writhing all under him, again and again rubbing his sore cock with her buttocks. He felt ashamed that even though he was the master of the situation, it seemed to him that somehow it was she who was dictating how it looked, or rather his inability to treat her as he did his other clients.

There was something innocent about her, that her goal was not for him to humiliate her, beat her or hurt her, but for him to guide her, to show her what she really desired and what he could do with her body.

He thought, running his fingertips over her moist, hot slit, that perhaps this was what he had been craving deep inside himself all this time.

"− ah − please, sir −" She mewled helplessly, and he felt her words between his thighs. He licked his lips, trailing his fingers over her throbbing, weeping cunt, teasing her hard nipple with his other hand, each of his movements accompanied by the loud click of her moisture.

"− what are you asking me to do? − use your words −" He exhaled, feeling that he was embarrassingly close to climax himself, and wondered if he was going to cum in his own trousers for the first time in his life.

"− please − please, put it inside me −" She mumbled out and he swallowed hard feeling her buttocks rubbing against his cock.

He froze for a moment, running his fingers over her hot, leaking folds, fighting with himself, on the one hand wanting only this, on the other the contract was different and he never broke the terms he himself had agreed to and signed.

What if, afterwards, she found that she didn't want it and decided that he had raped her, go to the police with it?

This thought sobered his mind a little, though his whole body shuddered with disappointment, his two fingers suddenly forced their way inside her with her moan of pleasure.

"− I can't − you know I can't, don't you? −" He breathed out, pressing the tips of his fingertips into the fleshy structure of her muscles, searching for the spot hidden between them.

She shuddered all over when he felt it a moment later, his thumb trailing over her clit as his two fingers dug in between her slick folds with a loud click of her wetness − he felt her whole body tense in anticipation, again and again his fingers squeezed her the way she needed it.

"− I'll be good, sir − please − please − please − I'll be good −" She cried out, her sticky walls began to clench around his fingers, sucking them inside and he closed his eyes, imagining he felt it on his hard, aching cock.

How tight she was.

He'd never done this before and he knew he shouldn't, but for some reason he was desperate, his mind clouded by what he'd seen and what he needed.

He watched her face in disbelief, her eyes closed, her cheeks flushed with exertion, her lips parted sweetly in a loud, accelerated breath.

"We can do this, but on my terms. I'll just fuck you, nothing more. No money. Do you understand?" He asked her in a trembling voice, as if he wanted to make sure she understood, that it meant nothing to him, that she just turned him on too much and he wanted to take it out on her.

He saw her eyes open suddenly, fear and relief filling her gaze as she whispered just a few words without looking at him.

"Let me look at your face, sir."

He himself didn't know when he suddenly flipped her onto her back as his lips clung with a loud purr to her hard, swollen nipple, sucking and licking it − he heard her moan loudly, startled, making him lose his temper. His hands in a helpless reflex slid down to the button of his trousers and his zipper, releasing his erection quickly, he wasn't sure he had ever been so terrified and aroused at the same time.

He knew things had gotten out of hand and that he would regret it, but he couldn't deny himself, knowing that he would probably never see her again.

"Don't touch me. Do you understand? If you touch me, I'll stop and I'll slap your arse so hard you won't be able to sit for the next few weeks." He hissed, looking her straight in the face, reaching his hand into his pocket to pull out the condom −she merely nodded, her hands clenched on either side of her face, her swollen lips parted in a quick, uneven breath.

He looked at her pretty figure, her sweet, plump breasts, her flushed face, her hair in disarray, and thought helplessly that she was beautiful and that he would go mad if he didn't do this to her.

Never before had he put a condom over his length as quickly as he did then − with a quick, sure, impatient movement he slid her panties off her, already all wet with her moisture, grabbed her by her hips and pushed her closer, momentarily forcing her tight, leaking folds to let him inside her.

He didn't speak, because he didn't know what he was supposed to say either, ashamed of his own desperation as he pushed deeper into her with a sure, sharp thrust.

He began to pound into her as if he had completely lost his mind, fast and out of control − she threw her head to the side, writhing beneath him, moaning loudly, her walls wonderfully moist and hot, clenching on him so tightly that he struggled to restrain himself from cumming just yet, not wanting to humiliate himself.

"− oh God −" He muttered, looking at her as if through a fog, leaning over her, his hands found hers, her fingers clenched on them, seeking proximity − she looked up at him pleadingly, panting and quivering.

He suspected that never before had anyone fucked her at such a brutal, fast pace from which she couldn't catch her breath, her thighs spread wide before him in a gesture of trust, their bodies slapping against each other with the loud clicks of her wetness.

"− these idiots couldn't even fuck you properly, hm? −" He panted low and she only nodded, his fingers intertwining with hers in some subconscious reflex, as if he wanted to show her that he understood her, that she had a right to be disappointed, that he had no idea how any man could fail to give her what she needed.

"− my poor little baby − am I right? −" He breathed out and she cried loudly and nodded her head, something in her gaze, in her eyes flooded with tears, filled with despair, tenderness and relief made him lean lower and cling to her lips.

She moaned loudly into his throat and he felt her walls squeeze him tightly with a sudden, intense orgasm, sucking him inside as his tongue invaded between her lips. She reciprocated his kiss with such devotion that a few of his helpless, sloppy thrusts were enough to make him cum into the condon.

"− fuck − fuck, baby −" He breathed out into her mouth as if she was his, as if they were in his bed in his flat, as if he loved her and was about to have dinner with her or go to sleep lying next to her, as if she wasn't a stranger to him, her sweet scent, her innocent sounds and the taste of her mouth were all that filled his mind as he continued to rock his hips deep inside her.

Even though they had both came, they didn't stop kissing, their lips joining and pulling away from each other lazily with a loud click of their saliva, his hands roaming up and down her fingers, alternately stroking them and entwining them with his own again.

Something about what was happening between them, about this sudden, unexpected closeness calmed him and made him completely drift off.

He knew that she had wanted to touch and kiss him from the very beginning, but she still respected his decision and his rules.

And he, for some reason incomprehensible to himself, broke them for her.

He pressed his face to her cheek, panting along with her, unsure of what he should do now, distracted and ashamed that he couldn't help himself, that for the first time in his life he had overstepped the time and competence he should have given her.

And that wasn't good.

What if she thinks now that they are in love with each other, that maybe one day they will be together? If she starts writing to him and stalking him like so many women before her?

"I'm sorry." He heard her whisper and shuddered, snapped out of his reverie.

He opened his eyes and met her gaze, her hands still on either side of her head. He grunted quietly, horrified at how close she was, that he could smell her pleasant scent so intensely, her breath, the warmth of her body.

"I'm the one who should apologise. I behaved unprofessionally. I won't take money from you." He replied after a moment, and she shook her head, shocked.

"− n-no, why − I mean − after all, you did what we agreed to do − you gave me your time, I −"

"− you're not the kind of person who would enjoy a strong dominant-submissive interaction − you'd be terrified − you're worrying too much − probably those guys before me didn't ask you what you needed, hm? − that's what I thought − there's nothing wrong with you − that's my diagnosis −" He hummed, sighing heavily, lifting himself up on his elbows, placing a lingering, tender kiss on her forehead.

He slipped out of her gently with her quiet hiss of discomfort − he saw her press her lips together when he slided the shed condom off his manhood and tie it off, tossing it into the small bin standing next to his bed, zipping his trousers back up. He saw her reach with a trembling hand for her underwear and sighed under his breath, shaking his head.

"Wipe yourself well first, the tissues are lying on the table next to you. Don't you have underwear to change into?" He asked uncertainly, realising that this was usually obvious to the women who visited him, as it was to him, so he didn't warn her, thinking she would figure it out for herself.

She shook her head quickly and he sighed heavily, taking a bottle of water standing on the table, unscrewing it and handing it to her, seeing that she completely didn't know what she should do with herself now.

"− drink − you'd better just wipe yourself off and put your trousers on −" He replied and she nodded, red with embarrassment, taking a few deep sips of water without looking at him.

He turned away as she started to get dressed, running his hand over his face, recognising that he was an idiot and had completely lost his fucking mind, unable to forgive himself for fucking her even though their terms were different.

He shuddered as she approached him quietly − he thought terrified that she was going to try to touch him, maybe even thinking they were going to become lovers now, but she just held a bundle of banknotes in front of him, looking at him pleadingly.

"− I already told you I won't take it − keep it −"

"− I can't, after all −"

"− don't piss me off −" He growled, and she pressed her lips together, lowering her hand, swallowing loudly.

They stared at each other for a long moment in awkward silence to say the least − he grunted, combing his fingers through his hair, feeling that for some reason his heart was pounding like crazy.

What was happening to him?

"− consider it a gift − we both made each other feel good − right? −" He asked, as if he wanted to make sure he hadn't hurt her. She nodded and smiled softly, shyly, for some reason making him feel a squeeze in his throat.

He regretted that she had ever written to him.

He regretted that he had said yes.

He regretted that it had been so pleasant.

"− thank you − and I apologise again − I won't take up your time anymore − I wish you all the best − please take care of yourself and be happy −" She said finally, and he flinched, looking at her in disbelief − he felt that his lips were parted in shock as he looked at her dully.

He didn't know what to answer.

Only after a while did he get anything out of himself, feeling that she was due at least some perfunctory response.

"− it's me who's sorry − I also wish you all the best −"

She nodded and smiled warmly at him, before her trembling hand reached for her backpack and headed towards the door, opening it and disappearing behind it a moment later.

He looked at the bed, at the sheets where the mark of her body was clearly visible, the fact that she had just been lying there, that he had been deep inside her and had fucked her like he had never put his cock inside any woman before.

He went over there and just lay on his stomach, sinking his face into the pillow that was drenched in her scent.

For the next few days, his head was in a state of chaos − one part of him was afraid that she would reach out to him, that she would seek contact or a relationship with him, like so many women before her wanting to be special to him, to be the only one.

The other part of him was even begging for her to do it, for him to be able to free himself at last from the memories of what he had done to her, that she had broken something in him, that he couldn't look at the women who came after her.

He couldn't focus, he felt remorse, he couldn't even get aroused and he was so frustrated that, to the despair of his regular clients, he decided to take a break for a few weeks to cool down.

His friend from university, Robert, had already invited him to his birthday party a month earlier and although he didn't have the energy to go anywhere, he knew that afterwards he would be listening to him and Criston moan in class about how completely unsocial he was.

He figured that since it was only going to be a private party at his house, he might as well go there at least for a while so no one would accuse him of lack of effort.

When he stopped outside his house he got out of the car and decided to have a quick cigarette, tired and discouraged, knowing that sooner or later his savings would run out and he would have to go back to it, whether he wanted to or not.

Or find another, lower-paid job.

He sighed heavily, clamping his fingers over the base of his nose, closing his eyes, trying to calm himself. He heard movement beside him and the screech of brakes, lifted his gaze and froze when it became apparent that she had just sat down beside him from her bike, a wide smile on her lips as if she thought he was a stranger, only recognising him after a moment, her lips parted then in horror, panic in her gaze.

He stared at her, feeling his body freeze.

Fuck.

Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

"Oh God. Do you know Robert?" She muttered, and he swallowed hard, feeling a tightening in his throat at the thought that she could have been his friend's girlfriend.

"Yes. Fuck. And you?" He asked her quickly with some sort of accusation, from which she swallowed hard.

"I-I, I'm his younger sister. I went to get some candles, I didn't know…"

"It's okay. I'll just go home." He replied, taking a few quick puffs of his cigarette, crushing it with his foot, turning back towards his car.

"N-no, please. Are you Aemond? Did I guess right? Robert was telling me about you. How he's glad you're coming. That you rarely talk or go out somewhere as a threesome with Criston. It's good that we met here, we'll avoid an awkward greeting. Please, don't be embarrassed." She muttered, and he sighed heavily, running his hand over his face, heartbroken. They both shuddered when they heard a knock on the glass, Robert looked at them through the window and started waving at them, gleeful.

Jesus Christ.

They both headed towards her house, knowing that since he'd seen him, he couldn't run away anymore anyway. He was terrified that since she was Robert's sister, she was someone familiar, not a stranger, that this changed everything and nothing, his heart pounding like mad.

"Do you have a lighter?" She asked as they stopped in front of the front door and he shook his head, snapped out of his reverie, frowning his brow.

"What?"

"Do you have a lighter? Can you help me? I need to light the candles on his birthday cake." She muttered in a whisper as if someone might overhear them, and she was telling him an important secret. He sighed heavily and nodded, recognising that he must have been dreaming all this.

Robert greeted him with joy, all around them Criston, their family and a few of his high school friends, a whole group of people he didn't know and with whom he knew he wouldn't find common ground, and among them her.

He wished him well and gave him his present, but he was unable to focus − he met her terrified gaze, she was pointing her finger at him that she needed his help in the kitchen.

He followed her as if into the lion's mouth, watching from the side as she opened the fridge in the darkness, taking out a blueberry meringue. She sighed heavily, placing it on the table in front of him, only the lights of the street lamps around them.

"It looked better in the picture on the internet, but I did my best." She mumbled, as if she wanted to say anything that would lighten the atmosphere between them.

He felt like an idiot when their trembling hands touched as he handed her the lighter and swallowed loudly, watching as one by one the candles began to glow with the warm, bright light of the flame.

He wanted to ask her if something in her life had changed, if she now knew what she wanted and needed, if she thought about what had happened.

Was she thinking about him.

She picked up the cake when it was all ready and let the air out loud through her mouth, looking him straight in the eye.

"Let's go."

After singing a short 'Happy Birthday', Robert blew out all the candles, happy to announce that his little sister had remembered what cake he loved best, assuring everyone that it was certainly delicious.

They spent the whole party throwing surreptitious, embarrassed glances at each other − he had to empty a few glasses of strong Whisky to calm himself down, the alcohol relaxing him a little, though only seemingly, suppressing his fear, but making him start thinking about something else again.

He looked at her figure dressed in a modest mid-thigh summer dress, her hair, her face − saw the way she laughed, the way she talked to others and felt a squeeze in his throat at the thought that then, being with him, she wasn't pretending.

She really was like that.

Affectionate, open, sweet, kind.

Everything he wasn't.

He swallowed heavily at the thought, sad and embittered, taking another deep sip from his glass.

"How are you going to get home? Criston is staying the night at our house, why don't you stay too? It's late." Said Robert sitting down next to him on the couch, patting him on the back in a friendly manner, already himself relaxed by the considerable amount of alcohol his body had assimilated.

He swallowed hard, looking at his sister from afar, feeling that this was a very bad idea.

"Why not." He muttered, thinking that he was a moron for looking for trouble himself, and that if Robert found out what he'd done to his sister, he'd kill him with his own hands.

Criston and a few others occupied the upstairs rooms, and he suggested he could sleep in the living room on the couch, to which Robert agreed.

He hoped this would embolden her to come to him, as he himself would never have dared to knock on her door despite how desperate he was.

At the thought that he might feel her again, his manhood reacted with an enthusiastic, intense pulsing in his trousers.

He felt that he was drunk as he began to pull off his black tight turtleneck, managing it with difficulty, pulling off his shoes, laying down dressed only in Tshirt and trousers with a quiet sigh and covered himself carelessly with the blanket, listening.

Is she going to do it or not?

And even if she comes to him, should he agree?

He felt disappointment when an hour passed and nothing happened, silence all around him and the loud snoring of someone coming from the upstairs rooms, perhaps her and Robert's father. He sighed heavily, recognising that he had made it all up, that she was surely now ashamed of him and what she had done, trying to forget it.

He swallowed hard at the thought, feeling discomfort in his stomach, and closed his eyes, figuring he would try to get at least a few hours of sleep.

He shuddered and opened them again when he heard a quiet creak, as if someone was walking down the corridor above him, but he wasn't sure himself if it wasn't just his imagination. A shiver ran down his spine and his manhood swelled all over when he heard someone quietly walk down the steps.

Whoever this person was, however, she didn't approach him but walked through the living room to the kitchen.

He felt his heart start pounding like crazy when he caught sight of her silhouette in the darkness, dressed only in an oversized white Tshirt and light shorts − she walked over to the tap, took a glass from the drawer and poured herself some water.

Should he approach her or not?

What if she gets scared?

Fuck.

He didn't even know when he just picked himself up on the couch, for some reason doing it very slowly so that his movements couldn't be heard − he felt like a predator who wanted to get closer to his prey even though he didn't really intend to harm her.

As soon as he stood up he immediately felt the room around him spin, the pleasant, intoxicating warmth of the alcohol melting through his lower abdomen making him seem less terrified of what he wanted to do than if he had been completely sober.

When she caught sight of his silhouette out of the corner of her eye she almost choked on the water − she spat some of it into the sink coughing loudly, making him freeze motionless, afraid to approach her. She quickly wiped her mouth with her hand, looking at him with big eyes.

"My God, you scared me." She muttered pale, her pretty, smooth face illuminated by the warm light of the street lamps standing in front of her house.

He stared at her for a moment, thinking that perhaps it must all have been a dream after all, that the fact that she was standing in front of him was unreal, invented by his distraught, drunken mind.

"I'm sorry." He stammered, swallowing hard, standing a good distance away from her, fighting with himself not to look shamelessly at her bare legs and her nipples peeking through from under her T-shirt.

Again.

They stood for a moment in uncomfortable silence, both of them breathing embarrassingly loudly, as if each of them was reliving deep inside themselves the fact that they were seeing each other again.

And on top of that, in her brother's house.

"I didn't know you were his sister. I swear. I would never do that to you." He finally started to speak, to explain, although he didn't know why − he had the feeling that he was trying to get anything out of himself so she didn't go back upstairs to her room.

He heard her sigh quietly, stroking her bare shoulder with her trembling hand. She shifted from foot to foot in a nervous gesture, looking somewhere to the side, her lips parted slightly in an accelerated breath.

"I know." She whispered, and he felt a heat in his lower abdomen and a pleasant shudder at the thought that perhaps she wasn't misjudging him, that perhaps she wasn't disgusted by him at all.

"How do you feel? I mean − are you okay?" She asked in a trembling voice, as if she wasn't sure if she should be asking this kind of question. She glanced at him uncertainly, clearly wanting to check his reaction, he stared at her stunned, completely surprised by her question.

"− I… yeah, I guess − I mean, I'm on a break from − you know − from this − right now −" He muttered, tucking his hands into the pockets of his black trousers, looking at the floor, feeling ashamed and embarrassed for some reason.

It's because of you, he wanted to say.

I did it for you.

"Something happened?" She asked after a moment, playing with the fingers of her hands in a nervous reflex, as if she was afraid of what she would hear.

"− yes − I mean − I have doubts − I always had, but now… they've intensified − you know −" He muttered, shrugging his shoulders, feeling the tightness in his throat and stomach growing stronger, his heart pounding like mad, cold sweat running down his back.

I'm just a whore, he thought.

I sell myself for money.

She nodded her head quickly so he knew she understood.

"− I'm sorry −" She said quietly, and he looked at her dully, not knowing why for some reason his lower lip trembled, why he felt a burning sensation under his eyelids.

He was ashamed that he desired her so much, that he wanted her words but also her body, wanted to fuck her first and then embrace her and fall asleep.

Was he treating her objectively? Was he only able to think about one thing?

Sex, sex, sex, sex.

He couldn't get anything out of himself.

He shuddered, drawing in air loudly as she came closer to him, in her gaze genuine fear and worry at his condition, questioning whether she could do anything for him, help him in any way.

He knew she longed to touch him − he saw out of the corner of his eye her hand rising to touch his shoulder but falling back after a moment, reminding himself that he never allowed anyone to invade his space.

He felt like screaming.

"− do you want to talk about it? −"

He wasn't sure he wanted to talk to anyone about it, but after a while he was sitting next to her on the terrace anyway, covered in a thick, soft blanket, sitting next to her on a rather uncomfortable wooden bench hanging by chains, which he rocked back and forth with involuntary movements of his knees, lighting a cigarette from his lighter with a quiet hiss of fire.

He took a drag and let the smoke out loudly through his nose, sighing quietly, just thinking about the fact that their hips and shoulders were touching.

"What did you think of me? After all this." He asked suddenly, swallowing loudly as he heard her twist in her place, throwing him a surprised, even horrified look. She sighed quietly, covering herself more tightly with the fluffy material.

"That you are a good man."

He felt his hand with the cigarette freeze in mid-motion as he was about to take another drag and for some reason he laughed in disbelief at her words, feeling a piercing pain in his chest, his eyebrows arching in amusement.

"That I'm a good man. Good God." He hummed, taking another drag − he could see she was looking down at her fingers, ashamed of her words and his cruel reaction. He licked his lower lip with his tongue and closed his eyes, feeling that he was completely hard.

He could smell her, she was still using that fruity, pleasant, fresh perfume.

"You're a romantic, innocent soul, aren't you?" He sneered, letting the smoke out again through his nose with a loud sigh − he heard her cough quietly as the smell of tobacco rose into her lungs. She grunted quietly, her lips tightened in displeasure.

"Innocent souls come to a strange man to spank them for money?"

"You didn't want me to spank you. You haven't experienced even a hint of real, hard domination, sweet girl." He snarled, spreading himself out comfortably on the back of the bench with a loud creak of wood, the metal chains squeaking quietly each time he made another movement with his foot, putting the structure in motion.

"So why did you agree to this?" She asked finally, and he fell silent, staring blankly ahead, taking one last drag on what was left of his cigarette.

"Good question."

They both fell silent again, feeling that their conversation was starting to get out of hand, and after all, someone could have woken up, opened the window, overheard their words.

"Did you tell Robert?" He asked suddenly, and she shook her head, horrified.

"N-no, of course not. And I won't. This is between you two. He respects you very much." She muttered, lowering her gaze to her bent knees, which she held under her chin. He hummed at her statement, accepting her words with some sort of relief.

"Did that help you? Now you know what you need?" He asked impassively, letting the smoke out loudly through his mouth, dropping the remnants of his cigarette into the glass with the unfinished drink, feeling her gaze on him, her body tense, he knew she had hesitated.

"In a way." She replied, and he dared to look her straight in the eye.

She didn't lower her gaze even though he knew some part of her wanted to do so, her lips parted slightly when she noticed his hands had slipped under the blanket, into his trousers. She swallowed loudly when she heard the sound of his zipper being undone and the fabric being unfastened.

"Come here. Sit on my lap." He ordered softly, and she did so without hesitation, as if she had only been waiting for those words, something in her confidence, in her assurance, in her desire, in her hot gaze made his breath stand in his throat.

They said nothing as he slipped her shorts off her, as he lowered his trousers, finally releasing his aching, swollen erection, already leaking from his precum. He didn't protest when her hands tentatively embraced his neck, barely touching him, merely catching her balance, his free hand covering their hips with a blanket.

"I'm clean. I had myself tested a few weeks ago, after I'd already taken a break." He whispered, feeling his cock throb aggressively in his hand at the thought that he could come deep inside her if she would just let him. She nodded her head in understanding, one movement of his hand between her thighs reassuring him that no further treatment would be necessary.

"Have you been this wet all evening? Hm? Have you suffered as much as I have?" He gasped, directing the pink, fat head of his manhood at her swollen slit. She nodded again, her lips parted in disbelief and delight, her eyes closed as she felt him begin to push inside her,his thumbs spreading her folds to the sides, watching with a rapidly beating heart as he slowly opened her wide on his cock.

"− fuck − fuck, tell me you're taking your pills −" He breathed out, tilting his head back, with one sure thrust of his hips filling her tight, leaking cunt to the brim. She squirmed quietly as he began to move inside her immediately, pounding into her with deep, sure stabs, rubbing each time the spot inside her from where she could see stars.

"− y-yes −" She mumbled out, rising and falling on his thick, aching manhood, giving him a wonderful squeeze each time, from which he sank his fingers deeper into her soft buttocks, forcing her into a fast, sharp rhythm in which he hardly slid out of her, panting and grunting louder than usual, thinking only of how wonderfully warm she was, that he could feel her moist, fleshy walls with his whole being with each sure thrust.

"− kiss me −" He exhaled and groaned loudly into her mouth as her lips instantly clung to his in a sloppy, sticky dance, his tongue invading deep into her throat, a shudder went through him as one of her hands combed through his hair.

"− m sorry −" She mumbled, immediately lowering her hand, but he put his one arm around her waist and pressed her closer to him, deepening the kiss with a loud purr of satisfaction, feeling wonderful, the alcohol had given him courage, and her touch was sweet and tender, not making him feel cornered.

"− it's okay − touch my face −" He sighed out between loud, wet licks of their swollen lips, quickening his pace as her hands gripped his cheeks, as her forehead pressed against his. Her walls began to clench on him with increasing intensity, making him lose his temper, not letting her escape the brutal thrusts of his hips.

"− oh, God − fuck, where −" He only mumbled, feeling that it was about to be too late.

"− please, inside me − ah −" She mewled so sweetly that he sighed loudly, surprised to feel his muscles relax, his semen spilling deep inside her without his willpower as her walls began to suck him and squeeze him in orgasm.

They both panted loudly, rocking their hips for a while longer, pulsing and shuddering, stroking each other's faces, looking at each other with their lips slightly parted, breathing heavily.

"− shall we go out somewhere tomorrow? − you know − to the pub or something? −" He muttered embarrassed that he had wanted something more, that he broke his own rule.

He was relieved when she giggled and smiled, nodding, only to lean in a moment later and kiss him in a drawn-out manner with her soft, puffy lips. He murmured contentedly, stroking her warm, bare buttocks with lazy movements, reciprocating her caress with a loud click of their saliva.

She pulled away from him at last, her hand combing slowly through his short hair making a pleasant shiver run along his spine.

"− why not −"

[robin-evry]

I SAWWW YOUR DEMI GOD AUUUUU

as a autistic wee little boy who's hyperfixation is currently all things percy jackson, your demi god au reminded me of that, so if i could request a demigod!yuu who's related to Hera, (my hc is that the child would be made parthenogenetically) and i thought it'd be really funny. you can write them however you think is best, my hyperfixation is just REALLY getting me 🤭😇 have a good rest of ur timezone <3

Thank you, and I hope you enjoy this I got some inspiration from epic the musical hera

𝐓𝐖𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈 𝐆𝐎𝐃 𝐘𝐔𝐔 ( 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐀 ) 🦚💍

Hera (/ˈhɛrə, ˈhɪərə/; Ancient Greek: Ἥρα, romanized: Hḗrā; Ἥρη, Hḗrē in Ionic and Homeric Greek) is the goddess of marriage, women, and family, and the protector of women during childbirth. In Greek mythology, she is queen of the twelve Olympians and Mount Olympus, sister and wife of Zeus, and daughter of the Titans Cronus and Rhea.

Similar towards how Hephaestus was made, demi god!yuu was created by hera with out needing any form of intimacy but they were born incomplete basically coming out to early making them half divine. But once they reach adult age they will be able to be ascended into a god they just need to wait.

They absolutely dislike the philandering type rook, Azul and Crowley. Similar trait towards their god parent, when Crowley was about to put them towards ramshackle they were offended they are doubting whether or not Crowley is a capable person or not how could they let someone live in these ruins.

An aura of regality, even without trying. They naturally command respect, making others instinctively recognize them as someone important. When they first arrives, their aura alone unsettles people. They radiate regality—posture perfect, gaze sharp, every step deliberate. Even without saying much, they command attention.

they have high standards towards themselves always keeping a poise and dignified look, never lacking perfection they have high standards. They know the value of keeping faces which earn the respect of vil.

They valued relationships very much, they always stay loyal towards the person they deem as loved ones and they do not take relationships lightly. To them, bonds are sacred, not something to be made and discarded on a whim.

Demi god!yuu is always there for those who are struggling, giving advice and a shoulder to cry on. similar towards a parent would care for their children

Peacocks are always seen with them, as a sigil of their divine heritage as well as connection towards their powers and identity. Two peacocks have miraculously appeared at ramshackles always tailing behind them.

Demi god!yuu is very fashionable due to them being the child of hera, they have to make a good impression towards others about them when they appear and kept face as a person.

They also have the natural abilities of giving out blessings and curses, Those who prove their loyalty to them find subtle fortunes following them as if fate itself bends in their favor.

Even tho demi god!yuu does not curse lightly, but those who betray them find their luck souring, relationships faltering, and an unshakable unease settling in their chests.

They are over protective of grim willing to protect him any sort of danger that may towards him, sometimes when things get too tired towards demi-god!yuu would carry him similar towards a mother holding their baby.

When the octaniville chapter, Azul was curse due to him conning multiple students into working for his restaurant, when meeting demi god!yuu, they say with a serious voice is to let grim, ace and deuce free but Azul unfortunately laugh at there face and ignored them, the next day bad luck seems to seep in towards his life accident happened in the kitchen, his grades started to go down and more, until he agreed to let grim, ace and deuce go the curse stop

Many people seem intimidated by them but even tho that hard interior leads towards a caring person who just wants to protect the people they hold dearly towards them.

[the-peak-tmnt]

Hey The Neon Void readers, quick update from the author's sister!

(art commission by @kaysdenofchaos)

Hi readers of The Neon Void fanfic. This is the author’s older sister. She’s been getting a lot of fan art and asks lately. She’s sent me screenshots of a few unanswered ones looking for advice on how to respond.

While all the love and support of TNV is genuinely appreciated, my sister @sugarpasteltmnt is not equipped to respond to a small handful of these asks/comments that are, quite frankly, inappropriate.

Sugarpastels is not a therapist, and she’s certainly not an internet stranger’s therapist.

She’s an adult with an extremely demanding and stressful job for a very large client. Some of you have already experienced and enjoyed her work IRL without knowing it. Her company is close to finishing another project that will bring a lot of joy to hundreds of thousands of people every year, but working on a project of that scale is extremely stressful.

She is writing this fanfic for fun. TNV is a way for her to decompress and put her creative energy towards something other than work.

What’s not fun is coming home to asks/comments from readers who are projecting their own struggles/mental health onto TNV, and even Sugarpastels herself, and demanding some sort of attention from her over it.

Let’s be real: it’s fun to watch our blorbos suffer! So much of fandom is just us putting our favorite characters in Situations because it’s fun. Simple as that. But I think another reason TNV has resonated so strongly with readers is because of the way Sugarpastels writes the internal struggles of these characters.

We are both aware that TNV deals with mental health topics. Since the early days of “modern” fandom, fanfiction has been a way for people to explore complicated, difficult and sometimes even taboo subjects. There’s no shortage of complex feelings being explored in TNV, which is why we’re all having so much fun reading it.

But that’s all it is; an exploration. Sugarpastels is not a mental health expert. I’ve read a handful of books on PTSD and mindfulness for research while writing my own fanfic, and I would never consider myself prepared to help someone else.

It’s okay if you relate to things from TNV. I know I do! Again, fanfic has always been a way to read about things rarely dealt with (or handled poorly) in published fiction/tv shows/movies. I will always argue one of the greatest things about fanfiction and other fanworks is being able to see ourselves and our own struggles through our favorite fictional characters.

But Sugarpastels is not a fictional character. She’s a real person. Most importantly (to me at least) she’s my little sister, and this big sister cannot handle watching some of her readers expect more of her than is appropriate.

So I’m asking you to please be mindful of what you ask/say to not just her, but literally everyone on the internet. Unless you’re chatting with someone regularly, they do not know you. Whether it’s friends, family, teachers, coaches, etc, there are people in your life who know you personally, and are therefore better equipped to help you than a stranger on the internet.

Sugarpastels is so full of empathy that it’s hard to not feel for you when you send things like this. But it just isn’t fair to put that kind of unnecessary pressure on someone who is, at the end of the day, just trying to have some fun writing about ninja turtles bein’ sad.

(That being said, PLEASE DON’T BE SCARED TO SEND HER ASKS AND FAN ART!!! They make her day every single time and are seriously so, so appreciated. She’s texting me about it constantly how much she loves all of TNV’s readers. This whole post is really directed at an extremely small percentage of her readers, but there have been enough I felt something needed to be said.)

[ahotknife]

idk if u have answered this but do you have thoughts about adam’s sexuality pre canon or even like…pre bllb? i see people talk about ronan and k (thoughts on kavinsky as a character I would love to hear your opinion of him) but you are super intelligent and always provide a perspective I haven’t considered before so i would like to know your thoughts

sure thing. in my opinion, at the beginning of his arc, adam’s not really aware of himself in a few crucial ways because there are a lot of things he feels he has to suppress (impulsivity, anger, vulnerability, weakness, tenderness) and by doing so he ends up keeping most of himself under wraps. he does exhibit textual interest in boys/men during trb/tdt (greenmantle, declan, the J Crew ad, ronan), just as he exhibits textual interest in girls/women (blue, helen, the psychics, his past classmates). we see him use more overt language in his observations of blue because that is where the focus of his desire is, but his attraction to multiple genders is definitely woven into his fabric from the get go. as a boy growing up in an abusive home and attending a private school in virginia in the early 00s, it’s not necessarily a conversation he would ever have out loud or with himself. adam’s entire narrative arc is about him coming to terms with who he is and what he wants. often we see adam imagining himself as unknowable, unlovable, the kind of person who will be perpetually unsatisfied and alone; he is inherently cynical and prone to self isolation for a number of reasons. despite this, all his friends do end up knowing him. ronan famously knows him best of all, but there are some other terrific moments where gansey and blue and persephone identify things within him that he had either not known or tried to hide. i think adam puts a lot of work into being okay with himself throughout the series. he has to accept the good and bad, the things he can’t change, the things that were born into him and the things he brought himself up to be. he is mean, he is glum, he is short-tempered, he is materialistic, he is pragmatic to the point it occasionally renders him without empathy, he is manipulative & cunning. he is also deeply insecure. he is also smart and tenacious and loyal and resourceful and a dozen other things he struggles to give himself credit for. he does, very explicitly in the text, come to terms with the fact that not only is he lovable, he is capable of loving in return. i think his sexuality was never really a sticking point in the formation of his identity/psyche. adam is pretty okay with the fact he’s got an appetite. he watches declan talk to his girlfriend and takes notes. he thinks about kissing blue, he thinks about blue’s body. the second he and ronan decide they’re going to be Something, they stay up all night and make out with their shirts off. like let’s be so for real: he’s not afraid of sex or sexuality in the human sense. i think the more important thing, for him, was coming to understand that he was not #builtdifferent. at first he thinks that there is something fundamentally wrong with him that would prevent him from ever truly being A Real Boy; later we see him being almost smug about the fact he is wantable, worthy of a crush, preferable to someone even over gansey (!). the gender of that person was never really a concern—it was the fact that person might never exist at all. i don’t think it was necessary for him to look in the mirror and say “you like boys”, i think the necessary thing was for him to look at himself and say “there is nothing wrong with you”. which he does! sort of. there’s plenty wrong with him. he’s a freak. but also: he accepts that. in my opinion he’s got the most cohesive, thorough, and meaningful arc of the core 4, and that includes coming into himself as a queer adult (in a way that suits him as a character). just terrific stuff. adam parrish, the man that you are…

my thoughts on kavinsky: he needed to exist, he served his narrative purpose, he is now dead. and he probably did not have three balls

[thinkinonsense]

Magnetic──★ Logan Howlett x fem!oc: Chapter Four

╰┈➤Summary: After years of torture, Daphne decides how she wants to spend the rest of her life; at the bottom of a lake. Out of nowhere, Logan pulls Daphne from the water and finds her help. Now they must navigate how to live with their decisions.

╰┈➤C/W: mentions of death, suicide, cursing, age gap, mild violence, issues with infertility, slight sexual themes, mentions of body mutilations, blood, and sort of a hysterectomy (nothing super graphic)

ᯓ★ mdni.ᐟ

ᯓ★word count: 1.7k+

ᯓ★ spotify playlist link

ᯓ★ last chapter here

ᯓ★ A/N: Sorry for the chapter being so short. i had this idea and needed to right it. hope you enjoy!

✮⋆˙ It's been days and Daphne hasn't seen Logan around the mansion. She began to worry that maybe he was starting to regret his decision to save her and bring her here. It wasn't until day three while training with Storm, that she found out where he had been.

"Jean mentioned they would be busy these next couple of days," Storm says nonchalantly.

"Oh," Daphne let out under her breath.

The worst part of Daphne's attraction control is that it can work both ways. Deep down she was yearning for something she didn't deserve. She felt it once before and now he is dead. Maybe that's why Logan has been avoiding her; he feels like she is manipulating his feelings. Daphne figured that the best thing she could do for him was avoid him too; for his sake.

That is exactly how that week went. Not once did their paths cross. Logan disappeared with Jean while Daphne spent time training with Storm and some of the other students. During the evening, Daphne stayed in her room with Juna. Storm, Rogue, and even Jean would knock on her door to invite her to join everyone at dinner but she always declined; making up some bullshit excuse. Nighttime was a struggle for Daphne. She would fight off sleep by distracting herself with books, her cat, or pacing around the room until her legs hurt. It wasn't easy for her as her eyes would often drift into slumber at some point.

Tonight happened to be one of those nights.

──★

Within the walls of her slumber, Daphne awoke in the familiar glass cage, curled up, and barefoot covered in a puddle of her own blood. A loud yell in the distance urges her to crawl to the glass, despite the gush of blood seeping from her.

"Help!" Daphne screamed at the top of her lungs. "Please!"

After minutes of howling, she sees them. Bellinor, two guards, and the love of her life; tied up and blindfolded. Daphne panics banging against the glass frantically. She did what they told her, wiped out millions and now they would wipe out what she loved too.

"Please! Take me instead!" Daphne cried, face full of tears. "Take me! Kill me instead! He doesn't deserve this!"

They ignored her pleas; instead calling the bonded man a 'trader' and 'coward' for caring for someone so evil. Someone who could never truly love him back.

Daphne's powers were useless behind the special glass. Bellinor made her watch as he destroyed the only world she knew. In a split second, the bullet flies through his head. In a mighty roar, Daphne's eyes roll back to return to dark red. Everything around the men shakes angrily, including the floor and ceiling. Finally, the glass cell bursts open.

Like a true coward, Bellinor runs, telling the others to shoot her dead. Daphne tuned out their groans, screams, and cries for help. To her it was quiet.

──★

3:15 am

It started with the chandelier downstairs. A few students woke up and noticed. Next, were the doors and windows slamming, waking the adults. By the time anyone realized where it was coming from, the floors were shaking.

Logan steps out of his room, joining the others down the hall. Similarly to the students, he had no idea what was happening. That was until he saw Jean, Scott, and Storm outside Daphne's bedroom door, talking.

"What's doin' on?" Logan asks, confused.

"Your damsel is shaking the whole mansion at three in the morning, that's what's going on," Scott informs Logan. Storm smacks Scott in the chest, shooting him a glare.

"We are pretty sure she is having a nightmare," Storm states.

"It's horrific," Jean warns him.

"I'll check on her," Logan states. "Get the kids back to bed."

Storm and Jean nod, gathering the children before Logan opens the door. The room looks normal to him, that is before he sees the woman thrashing and intertwined in her bedsheets. As Logan moves closer to the bed, he can hear her mumbling with tears streaming down her pink puffy cheeks. It was devastating to watch.

"Daphne," He says, shaking her softly. "Hey wake up, sweetheart."

Logan repeats this twice until she jumps up with her heart pounding so hard that he can hear it ringing in his ears. There's no hesitation in Logan's actions as he pulls her into his chest. Daphne's wet tears leak onto his tank top with her mumbled apologies.

"I-I'm sorry." Her voice breaks as she speaks.

"It's okay, it's okay" Logan whispers into her head of curls. "No need to apologize."

It felt like a lifetime spent in his arms, Daphne thought; a lifetime well spent. She used his heartbeat to steady her own. Logan didn't make her feel like she was overstaying her welcome in his embrace. One of his hands tangled in the hair near her neck while his other sat on her lower back, thumb swiping back and forth over a small exposed slit of skin.

When Daphne stares up at Logan with her glossy green eyes sparkling in his direction, he thinks he might've fallen under a spell. He knew he shouldn't feel this way while she was in a vulnerable state, but anyone would feel spellbound under her gaze.

She shouldn't be staring, she thinks. It's not fair to give them both false hope. She should let him go; remind him that she's a liability. Daphne wanted to use every excuse to make him stay but she knew better.

"Sorry. You shouldn't have to save me anymore," Daphne said softly, avoiding Logan's hazel eyes.

Suddenly, the hand in her hair moves north to her jaw, gently keeping her in place. Logan shakes his head, "Like I said, no need for apologies."

"Right..." She hums, pulling back and then adding, "Well, I should probably let you get back to bed-"

"I could, um.. I could stay," Logan blurted out, cutting her off. "If you would like."

"You want to stay?"

"If you don't mind. I could watch over you in case you have another nightmare."

"You don't have to..."

"I wasn't getting much sleep before anyways." He reassures; standing up, and pulling over the chair in her room. He sits on the right side of her bed while Juna curls up next to Daphne. They sit in silence for a while and Logan is almost sure she fell back asleep; until he hears a whisper.

"Do you ever get nightmares?"

"All the time."

"Me too. I try not to fall asleep."

"What are yours about?"

Daphne blinks slowly up at the ceiling before answering him, "They vary; but tonight was the return of a painful memory. The man who captured me mutilated me then took the life of the man I loved."

Logan's body stiffened as she spoke. This didn't seem too far-fetched considering what Charles had let him see before of her life. He never saw a lover though. Logan didn't doubt that she would've had many of them, it seemed odd that none of them would've tried to protect her.

"Mutilated...?" He hesitated to ask.

"They cut me open so I wouldn't be able to have children." Daphne sounded numb, he thought. "I was left bleeding out in my cage."

"Daph..."

"Some nights, I can see my life as a mother. It's so silly but I can picture myself cooking dinner while my baby sits in their high chair; both of us waiting for my husband to come home from work." She sniffles quietly; letting her hand travel down her stomach, stopping between her hips to trace the scar left behind. "It is the sweetest form of torture."

Logan stares at the floor, trying to picture her fantasy. He saw Daphne standing in the kitchen, baby bouncing on her hip while she stirred a pot on the stove. She was right; it was the sweetest form of torture.

"What was he like?" Logan asked.

"Who?"

"The man you were in love with."

Daphne smiled, picturing him so clearly. "He was great. Our situation wasn't ideal but we made it work. At first, I thought he was out to hurt me like the others but over time, he would open up to me."

Logan wanted to question their relationship but knew better than to crush her dwindling spirit. Perhaps a part of him felt a sting of jealousy at how much she gushed over a man who helped keep her locked away.

"... it was like catching lightning in a bottle." She sighed. "I would give anything to feel it again."

"You'll find it again."

Logan watched as Daphne traced the scar on her lower stomach.

"Do you ever think about it..?"

"Think about what?"

"A family."

There is a long pause. Daphne wonders if she overstep, then again they didn't know each other very well. When she went to apologize, he cut her off.

"Sometimes." Logan shrugs. "But it's not realistic."

"Oh, yeah," Daphne lets out a dry chuckle. "I almost forgot you're an old man."

A small smile forms on Logan's lips at her laugh.

"Not everyone can be young and pretty like you, dollface." Logan noticed her shift onto her elbow to look at him. Her face turned a cherry wine color in the moonlight and her eyes went dark as they found his.

"You don't mean that." She shakes her head. "It's the curse talking."

He was offended by her assumption. I mean, look at her. Daphne was more than her mutation, more than her 'curse', more than those horrible moments that she thought defined her. It was a tragedy that she didn't see that.

There was so much that he wanted to say to her; to assure her that her life was not doomed, her dreams weren't far-fetched, and that she could be happy.

That's all she wanted, right? Happiness?

Logan could do that. Restore the light that left her eyes long ago. He was convinced he could give it to her.

Too caught up in his thoughts, he almost missed her muffled, "Goodnight, Logan."

As he watched her lay back on her pillow, eyes closed, smile still on her face, Logan realized he did not give a damn if it was her attraction control anymore; he was done for.

˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

tags: @bethexo07 @marcybug @borapsycho @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367

@aylawylie @princessanglophile @mxtokko

if you want to be tagged for future chapters of Magnetic, reply and let me know <3

[absolutely-esme]

What if This Wasn't Jack and Miko's First Rodeo?

Based on vibes, Jack and Miko (from Transformers Prime) feel like they could have each previously been the hero of a children's adventure novel. Specifically, the kind where the main character goes to a magical world, has a whole life-changing adventure, and then returns to their everyday life.

Miko never quite managed to readjust to normal life.

It's not that she didn't want to go back to her home and family. She just doesn't quite seem fit back into the space she left behind.

It's hard to go back from from navigating the world on her own terms and making judgement calls that shape the fate of kingdoms to being a child who has decisions made for her by the adults around her. She knows her parents and teachers mean well, but the lack of autonomy chafes. Growth is a one way road. She can't go back to being the little girl that she used to be.

Even once she gets used to applying the relevant version of common sense again, she still struggles to connect with others, especially her peers. How is someone who's experienced two worlds and made judgement calls with lives on the line supposed to relate to someone who's never traveled further than the beach or had a worry bigger than a math test?

She also misses that other world and the friends she made there just as much as she missed home when she was there. The feeling of longing for a home that's a world away didn’t disappear, it just changed targets.

Additionally, from an outside perspective, there's no reason for her to have changed the way she has. She could try telling someone, but who would believe her? So she's left dealing with things by herself.

She tries so hard to settle into life back home, but she just can't do it. It's like trying to wear her shoes on the wrong feet.

She puts in the work to get her grades where they need to be for the exchange program when the not-rightness of things familiar things turned unfamiliar gets to her. It helps some.

There's still the restrictions of childhood, but the host parents mostly just make sure she's not gonna die or break a bone while in their care rather than trying to actively parent her. It's a little easier to handle. She still feels a little out of place, but without the frustration of knowing she shouldn't. Most importantly, no one in Jasper expects her to be her old self.

It's still kind of stifling and off, and she still finds herself struggling with the wariness of too many peaceful days in a row (and with not being allowed to carry any sort of weapon on her person day to day).

Then, she encounters the Cybertronians.

It's been a few years at this point, but Miko still remembers the call to adventure, and she can sure as hell recognize it now! She answers with all she's got.

It's not the same, and the friends she made last time aren't here, but there's a situation that her trained instincts actually fit into and people who know what it is to fight with the odds stacked against you. Bulkhead even reminds her of some of the warriors she'd gotten on with in a way that makes her feel sure they're gonna get on like a house on fire once they get to know each other.

Also, one of the kids from her new school is actually like her! That was cool.

She knew this wouldn't last. She would eventually have to go home, whether this adventure ended before then or not. She would be back to enduring the ill-fitting drudgery of normal life sooner or later. But this was a balm to her soul while she had it.

Jack did manage to readjust to normal life, but it was a long and painful process.

He went through the unexpected culture shock upon returning home, the frustration of going from independence back to dependence, the sorrow of having said goodbye to the friends he made along the way, the feelings of displacement, and the expectations he'd outgrown when no one was looking. It was rough.

He rolled up his sleeves and got to work at cobbling himself and his life back together.

He wrestled down the urge to knock bullies down a peg like misbehaving recruits because they weren't on a battlefield, and they weren't going to get someone killed, and they weren't his responsibility.

He did his homework no matter how stupidly inconsequential and purposeless it seemed after having experienced situations where being right or wrong actually mattered because that's what his job was, now, and it was important to his mom.

Some things he couldn't shake, so he found a way to fit them into his new life. (His mom would never understand how much that survival knife meant to him.)

It was grueling. It was miserable. He drifted apart from some friends that he just couldn't connect with anymore.

But he kept chipping away at it. He kept disarming triggers and finding socially acceptable ways to manage things. He took it one day at a time and focused on his responsibilities and the people around him, because it's so much easier to muster courage and willpower for someone else's sake than for his own.

Eventually, the discomfort settled into something like peace. He'll never be the same as he was before the adventure, but he wouldn't be even if the adventure hadn't happened. People change and grow, especially when they're kids. He has moved forward and is fairly content with the quiet life he's leading in Jasper, Nevada.

Then he encounters the Cybertronians.

Once again, he's yanked out of a mundane, ordinary day and thrown into a dangerous, high-stakes situation. Old reflexes from battle on dragonback, or whatever, have him holding on and staying on when the motorcycle under him suddenly takes off and engages in a high-speed chase/battle instead of falling off when it first moves and watching it speed away. He doesn't let himself think about how much easier it was to go back to this than to go back to regular life.

Jack also remembers and recognizes the call to adventure. All he can think is "Oh God, not again."

He had just barely managed to piece his life back together. He couldn't do it again.

He tried to walk away, but he couldn't do that either.

Not when standing among war-weary giants still felt more comfortable than sitting in the school cafeteria with his back facing a crowd. Not when the one person he's encountered who apparently does actually get what he's been through solemnly confirms that walking away was never really an option for people like them. Not when another soul jaded from the loss of comrades in arms admits to taking solace in his company.

Not when this is Raf's first life-changing adventure, and he was going to be alone at the end of it unless Jack or Miko stayed (and Miko couldn't stay past the end of the exchange program).

Miko and Jack sort of confuse each other at first.

Over the course of the first few transformer-related encounters, Miko manages to piece together that Jack is like her!

She hadn't realized at first, because he did a weirdly good job of passing for the most boring, unremarkable guy to ever stand blandly in the background, right up until he landed in the middle of things. Then you could see the outline of what he'd lived and who he actually was.

She couldn't fathom why he had decided to roleplay milk toast (She could see the paradoxical relief loosening his shoulders and back when he had an emergency to respond to, so he must be feeling the strain of the ordinary, too), but it was good to know him either way.

They don't instantly click, but she does get close enough to him to be concerned when he tries to bow out. Right now, they have a space that the parts of themselves that grew beyond mundane life fit into, and he's giving that up? The loss of context is painful, and she doesn't understand why he would put himself through that sooner than he has to.

Jack takes longer to clock Miko.

He initially sees her enthusiasm as her not understanding the seriousness of what's going on and simply finding day to day life boring in the way of a child who's only known peace. He also isn't looking closely because he starts off looking to get out as soon as he can.

It takes him a while to realize that her eagerness to be involved is because she has been the one who faces the monsters before and she built herself into someone better suited to that than to the life of a schoolgirl. Where he cursed the journey that changed him, she cursed the long-outgrown space she was forced back into.

This idea is inspired by the vibe of the interactions between Jack and Miko early on in the series.

The conversation between Jack and Miko when Jack tries to quit, in particular, felt more layered and intense than it should've been. Especially when you take their overall attitudes toward eachother at first into account.

Jack and Miko each seem to start out seeing the other as a civilian kid who shouldn't be here and also in a separate category from themselves.

For Miko, it tends to manifest as more of a "you are a civilian, so you should really stay out of the way, and let me, a Capable Adventurer, do my thing."

For Jack it tends to be more of a "you are a dumbass civilian kid with no comprehension of the dangers, so I have a responsibility, as someone who knows what he's doing, to keep you alive."

[howlsofbloodhounds]

If the Chromatic Crew had jobs in the Omega Timeline, what would they be?

I feel like Delta would work as some sort of mechanic, given his passion for technology and engineering. Perhaps he specializes in robotics, cybernetics, and biomechanical enhancements—particularly for monsters, hybrids, or even humans with prosthetics.

He could design and maintain cybernetic limbs or assistive technology for those who need mechanical augmentations.

Given that Omega Chara kinda cut him half, if his body still struggles to function in some way due to that despite its healing, and potential magical instability, he might experiment with integrating technology into his own recovery and mobility—like reinforced plating, internal stabilizers, or even minor cybernetic enhancements.

He might build AI-driven mechanical assistants to help him in the workshop, reducing the strain of overworking himself.

If the Omega Timeline likely has threats or conflicts, Delta could also potentially work as a weapon specialist, designing high-tech weapons, armor, and battle gear.

I think he’d likely refuse to create purely offensive weapons, instead focusing on defensive gear, shields, and non-lethal weaponry to prevent unnecessary deaths.

(And this is likely something Core agrees with if they allow him to build weapons in the first place. If Delta does make any offensive weapons, they’re likely hidden somewhere he deems safe.)

If the Omega Timeline has any advanced vehicles or transport systems, Delta would absolutely be involved in repairing, modifying, and upgrading them.

He might build experimental hovercrafts, motorcycles, or personal flight devices. I also think Delta is likely to take on side projects, where he builds things just because he can—whether it’s helpful inventions, weird gadgets, or impractical but cool devices.

He might experiment with combining magic and machinery, creating hybrid tech that blends the best of both worlds.

Given that Beta (his human half) grew up on the Surface and Sans grew up in the Underground, he might take inspiration from both human and monster engineering, leading to designs that take from both worlds.

Rather than working under a formal organization, i think Delta is more likely to be a self-taught, independent mechanic who runs his own private workshop or garage.

He might barter services instead of working for money, fixing things in exchange for food, materials, or favors.

Especially if he barters with Core and any members of the potential Council—ensuring their technology, infrastructure, and security remain secure and functional in exchange for housing where he either doesn’t have to pay rent/bills, or the Council covers that for him.

His workspace could be cluttered but functional, filled with half-finished projects, custom tools, and notes scribbled everywhere. He would probably refuse to take jobs from people he doesn’t trust, especially if he suspects they would use his work for harmful purposes.

Especially if we take into account the headcanon of how Killer used any weapons of Delta’s to fuel negativity for Nightmare and help the corruption expand his “organization.”

Color, however, I feel would be unable to work a traditional full time job, at least not for a long time.

And although Delta likely to insist on being the one to take care of everything and everyone in their household, willing to take on extra work if he has to, Color probably worries a lot about what would happen if he doesn’t “get better” and start “pulling his weight.”

Start behaving..like an “adult.” Again.

Will Delta leave him? Will he hate him and get mad at him, throw them out on the streets one day, because he realized how much of a drain Color has been on his life? The burden on his shoulders? Will Beta realize how pathetic he is, nothing worth looking up to? Will Sans look at Color, and be glad he didn’t make the wrong choices and end up like Color?

So at first—I think his best options would be remote work and self employment/commissions.

He could do writing like blogs, short stories, and transcription work. Data entry if he can manage long screen time, and even email-based customer service, not phone-based.

He could even sell any arts, crafts, or music online he makes—and before going on to paid work, he could even try out volunteering in an attempt to refamiliarize with being around people again. (Such as volunteering at the hospital with the children.)

And then eventually a part-time job with flexible hours, and it has to be low-stress, accommodating, and allow for breaks to prevent burnout, breakdowns, and physical collapses from Color.

Like working as a library assistant or a museum guide or doing archival work.

When he starts getting antsy about being trapped in the Omega Timeline, however, I do think he’d definitely be willing to push himself past his limits in regards to work if he views it as a means out of the Omega Timeline.

Perseverance definitely would make it near impossible to stop if it agrees with or shares Color’s desires to get out, or simply is particularly very ambitious on their job or helping Color, regardless of the strain or injury it could cause their shared body.

For Killer, at first I was considering something to do with the death care industry—like an embalmer or a mortician—but then I remembered how he tends to be towards the dead.

He doesn’t really show much respect or care for the dead, such as taking the souls of his victims or studying their dead bodies for his own purposes and ends without consent—and he’s trying to get better in this ending.

Keeping him around and trusting him to handle the Omega Timeline’s dead, tempting him, reminding him of what he’s been surrounded by for a long time now.

What he’s yearned for, what he’s done. Especially if he ever comes across any familiar faces or magical “signatures”…i doubt it’d be good.

So i definitely think he’d do something to do with animals. He loves animals, relates most to them, definitely has a lot more respect and care for them then he does for most other living beings.

He could potentially get a full or part time job in Ccino’s Cafe, working primarily with the animals—cats and dogs.

Especially since Ccino not only knows Killer through their shared connections with Nightmare, but Ccino also very likely has rapport with both Color and Epic.

And speaking of Ccino’s cafe and Epic, there’s Epic’s good pal, Cross.

Now I was a little stuck on potential jobs for both Cross and Epic, outside of the obvious ones—something science related for Epic, something Royal Guard or militaristic-like for Cross.

But I had a feeling that military work may not actually be as good mental health wise for Cross as it seemed, despite its familiarity, and I also felt that Epic had more potential options I just couldn’t see yet.

So I asked a friend of mine her opinions and thoughts on the matter, since she’s more familiar with the characters’ canon than I am at this moment, so I’ll paraphrase what they (@/zuzuelectricbugaloo) and down below:

Epic might take on a part-time role as a doctor since his ability to see Codes would be useful for treating cases where regular magic isn’t effective.

Additionally, he could run a daycare in the Omega Timeline, given his experience babysitting many kids like Palette, Goth/Vidal, Paperjam, and Gradient, and his genuine enjoyment of it.

As for Cross, he might initially consider a military-related job since he’s skilled in that area and likes feeling helpful. However, given the war-like trauma and PTSD he experienced in XTale/Underverse, it wouldn’t be the best choice for him.

He enjoys art and baking, so working part-time at a café could be a good fit. However, considering his past actions in Underverse—such as destroying AUs or causing harm, even indirectly—many Omega Timeline residents might not welcome him.

Because of this, he might prefer working elsewhere, like at Ccino’s café, where he has a good relationship with both Ccino and Epic. There, he could use his artistic side in baking and making drinks or even help with the animals. This setup would allow him to feel productive without overwhelming anxiety or the pressure of feeling like he’s doing everything wrong.

[flemingsfreckles]

I’ll Look After You

Synopsis: you and Jessie are still adjusting to life with a baby, Jessie notices that you’ve been struggling more and more recently, until you break.

Warnings: mentions of postpartum depression and anxiety, language

WC: 2.7k

A/N: hi, I haven’t posted in a while, just sort of been struggling, work has kicked my ass, and my motivation has just drained a bit but I’m trying to get back into it.

The first noise Jessie hears after the jingling of her keys in the sound of crying. It’s not an uncommon noise in your household, it’s an everyday, every couple of hours occurrence. But what she notices is the crying isn’t just that of your five month old daughter. She can also tell there’s the sound of an adult crying.

She quickly places the diapers and bag of baby clothes she had purchased on the counter and makes her way to your daughter's room.

She walks into the nursery to a scene that breaks her heart. You’re sitting in the rocking chair, your daughter resting in your lap. You’re both crying, your daughter wailing while you’re sniffling, shoulders shaking while you still try to console the baby in your lap. You looked exhausted.

“Oh my love.” Jessie says rushing to your side. “Let me take her.”

“No!” You snap at Jessie. “She won’t eat, but she’s hungry, that’s her hungry cry. She won’t latch, I can’t help her, but she needs to eat so she needs me.”

Jessie kneels in front of you. Her hands reach out to take your daughter. Already feeling panicked from the hours of crying you’ve sat through and the feeling of failure as a parent, you push Jessie’s hands away. You had been dealing with postpartum anxiety, you knew it and Jessie knew it.

It had started with just not letting your daughter out of your sight. She came with you everywhere, the kitchen, the bathroom, the bedroom, she was always just a few steps away, in every moment you had your eyes on her. Even as she slept you watched her though the baby monitor, hardly ever getting rest yourself. That lasted a for the first few months and then it only became worse.

Then you started having nightmares of terrible things happening to her. That’s when you started not letting her out of your grasp. You no longer brought her out to Jessie’s games. You didn’t let family or friends hold her, everything was a threat to her. You held her constantly, feeling as if any place besides your arms was dangerous to her little life.

This even meant Jessie’s arms. You knew deep down Jessie was safe, she was even more cautious than you were with her, but your anxiety refused to let up when it came to your wife. Any time the baby awoke in the middle of the night, you were up too. Despite Jessie’s insisting you stay in bed, being the first one out of bed to get your daughter, as she’d get up, you’d follow her. You watched Jessie like a hawk when she held your daughter, terrified something would happen. It was all crazy, Jessie was the best partner and parent you could’ve ever imagined but your postpartum brain remained in panic at all times.

“What if she just never eats? She’ll starve, it’ll be all my fault. I just want to help her.” You managed to choke out between cried. Jessie could see the dark circles under you eyes, she knew you hadn’t slept that night and now it was early morning, the exhaustion beginning to take its toll.

“She’s not going to starve babe.” Jessie tried her best to console you. She didn’t know what to do, she felt helpless so many times seeing you stress and worry about your daughter, knowing she could only ease your mind so much.

“She might Jessie! She won’t latch! I can’t fucking feed her. I’m a terrible mom, I can’t even feed her.” You move through anger, yelling at Jessie and your fist hitting the armrest of the rocking chair, to feelings of sadness in an instant, tears falling again.

“You’re not a terrible mom.”

“I can’t protect her. She’s always crying, I don’t know what I’m doing wrong. I can’t keep her safe.”

“You can keep her safe, you do keep her safe. She cries because she’s a baby, she can’t talk to us, her crying is not an indication of you as a parent.” Jessie’s hands gently caress your shins, trying to help you relax. “Now, can I please hold her?” Jessie brings her arms out again. She knew she had to be patient with you but she also knew you had hit your breaking point. Your lack of sleep, your mood swings, your frustrations, all worried her.

She knew you had been up all night with her. It had taken the two of you a while to get her to fall asleep, and just a short hour later she was up screaming again. You changed her and put her back down, before returning to bed. She had started crying at midnight and you had gone into the nursery, telling Jessie you’d wake her for the next time she cried. Except you hadn’t. You never came back to bed after that wake up. Jessie had heard the crying on her own and made her way into the nursery at 2am. You had sent her back to bed saying you had it covered. Jessie listened, knowing it was smarter and safer to have one rested parent, she also wasn’t interested in making you upset.

Then when Jessie woke up again and noticed you were not next to her, she came to find you. At 4am she found you asleep on the floor next to the crib. She had placed a blanket over you and let you sleep while she made herself coffee. The baby had woken up again at 4:30 and you had been up with her since. Jessie had run to the store to get some necessities, hoping when she got back the two of you would be sleeping again. You had now been awake all night, with only a combined hour of sleep worth of naps to hold you over. Jessie knew she had to take your daughter away from you, you needed sleep. She wanted you safe and she wanted your daughter safe.

You just stare back at Jessie. This was your wife, you trusted her with every bit of yourself, your fears, your accomplishments, you trusted her with your body, with your heart, but for some reason you were terrified to hand her your daughter, the baby she had a hand in making, the baby that was half her, you couldn’t hand her over.

“Babe.” Jessie’s tone was no longer asking politely. “For her safety and more importantly, for your safety, I need you to let me hold her for a bit, you need a break.” Her arms extend once again. She had realized this was getting out of hand, not only did she need to take your daughter in this moment, it was probably time to seek professional help. Jessie made a note to bring that up later with you.

“I don’t need a break, I don’t get a break, I'm her mom!”

“I’m her mom too!” Jessie getting more and more concerned about your own safety starts to snap at you.

Jessie was right, she was her mom too. You look down at your daughter, who is still whimpering. You look at her small face, her little nose, the way her eyes were scrunched and her mouth open crying. It had you tearing up again, seeing how upset she was with no relief thanks to you.

“I couldn’t help her, I changed her, she’s warm enough, she’s burped, I checked her over a hundred times, there's no scrapes or rashes, nothing should bother her. She just is hungry but won’t eat.” That’s when you start feeling your heartbeat in your chest, the whoosh of blood through your ears. You can feel your chest heaving as you try breathing in air.

“Hey, hey, hey.” Jessie’s hands come off your shins and onto your face.

“You’re okay. She’s okay, look at her she’s okay. You’re both okay. I’m going to take her just for a moment, I’ll stay here by you so you can watch. But I’m just going to hold her for a bit.” Jessie drops her hands from your face and gently scoops up your daughter, bringing her to rest on her chest. Your daughter’s head rests on Jessie’s shoulder. Jessie stands up and bounces her lightly, hand running down your daughter’s back trying to soothe the crying.

Jessie extends her other hand out toward you. “Come here, let’s go lay in our bed.”

You look up at Jessie and nod, taking her hand before dropping it. “Two hands on her.” You say, already worrying somehow your daughter will slip from Jessie’s strong grip.

“Okay, two hands.” Jessie shoots you a smile before placing her other hand onto your daughter's back. She follows you out of the nursery across the house and into your bedroom. You watch Jessie as she carefully places her into the bassinet next to the bed.

“There’s nothing in there right? No toys, no blanket, no pillows? Did you check that there isn’t a spider or anything?” It was your paranoia coming back, but you had to ask.

“No babe, just her. There’s nothing that’s going to hurt her in there.” Jessie says looking between you and the bassinet. “She’ll be okay, I’m going to pick her up again in a moment. Let’s get you changed first.”

Jessie took another glance at the bassinet before coming over to where you stood at the end of the bed. She lets her hands rest on your shoulders. “Would you like a shower?” You shake your head, you did but you didn’t have the energy. “New clothes at least? Brush your teeth? Wash your face? What can I help with?”

“I dunno.” You feel on the verge of even more tears, you’d think by now you’d be completely dry. You feel your lip start to tremble again and you bite it trying to hold back the sob ready to fall out.

“Okay, sorry, I gave you too many options. Let’s just get you changed.” Jessie says her hand gently falling to your shirt. “Can I take this one off?” You nod and lift your arms, Jessie gently pulling the shirt over your head. You stand there shirtless as Jessie walks across the room to her own dresser, pulling out one of her old shirts that you frequently stole and would wear to bed. On your way back to where you stood your daughter lets out a cry. You watch as Jessie quickly moves to grab a clean pacifier, placing it into her mouth before coming back over to you.

“Arms up pretty girl.” You do as she asks and she pulls the shirt down over your head. Her hands drop to the shorts you have on. “These off?”

“Ehh she didn’t puke on them, they can stay.” You say. And Jessie’s hands move off of them.

“Okay, in bed.” Jessie walks over flipping back the cover to your side and waiting for you to get in. You climb in and she gently pulls up the covers before walking around to the other side of the bed. She picks up your daughter from the bassinet before she climbs into bed next to you. “Come here.” She pats her side and encourages you to curl into her.

You watch as she holds your daughter, you watch carefully, making sure your daughter's head is supported, her back is in a good position, you watch Jessie, who’s looking between you and your daughter.

“Close your eyes, I’ve got her, she’s okay, if she cries you’ll hear her and wake up.” You lay there for a moment, Jessie was right, she was right next to you, if she cried you’d hear. You’d be able to get up and help in a second's notice. You take one last look at Jessie and your daughter before closing your eyes.

You’re not sure how much time passes when you finally wake up to the sound of your wife talking to your daughter. “Here ya go. This’ll make you feel better.” You blink a few times and see Jessie with your daughter, a bottle in her hand being held up to her mouth.

Your eyebrows squint as you try to take in the image of your daughter eating from a bottle. That was different, it was rare that she ate from a bottle especially when you were home with her, you’d wake up and feed her, there was no need for her to feed from the bottle. It made you upset that Jessie hadn’t woken you, maybe she didn’t trust you to feed her since you had failed earlier. Maybe she thought you were a bad mother.

“Why didn’t you wake me?” You feel Jessie jump, not having realized you were awake and being startled by your voice. “I don’t want her to have formula yet, we talked about it this.” You had been strong in your decision to feed her, Jessie knew that. Bottle feeding her was one thing, but you hadn’t pumped, there wasn’t milk for the bottle, Jessie had to be giving her formula. “You should’ve woken me up, I would’ve fed her.”

You move to sit up, starting to pull your shirt up and reaching for your daughter at the same time. Jessie’s hand gently releases the bottle for a moment before her hand comes down onto yours.

“You are feeding her. It’s not formula, it’s your milk from the freezer. You’re still feeding her.” Jessie says looking at you, her hand returning to hold the bottle to your daughter’s mouth.

“Oh.” You feel stupid, you had frozen milk. Frozen milk you had pumped and saved back when your daughter was first born. She didn’t yet eat enough to use it all, so you had saved it. As she grew she drank more and more and you stopped freezing it. You had completely forgotten. You had forgotten, Jessie hadn’t.

“Go back to sleep love, I’ve got her, well, actually you’ve got her, you’re the one feeding her, I’m just holding the bottle.” Jessie smiles down at you, bringing a hand to run her fingers through your hair. “Close your eyes.”

You feel a sudden rush of emotions again, feeling overwhelmed by the kindness of your wife, who you had been cold to since the anxiety started. “I’m sorry.” You can feel your chest tightening and your vision becomes blurry with tears.

“For what?” Jessie looks down questioning what you could possibly be apologizing for.

“Just everything, I’ve been so mean, and I just, I worry and I can’t let her go, if something happened to her, I don’t think I’d survive. I’m so scared for her, she’s helpless, and I’m her mom so that’s my job and I think sometimes I forget you’re her mom too, and I don’t want to burden you with the responsibility, and I just, I’m not being fair to you.”

“You’re also not being fair to yourself. You’re tired, you’re overwhelmed, I don’t like seeing you like this.

“I know I just can’t help it.” You blinked hard and the tears began to run down your cheeks, Jessie’s finger gently wiping them away.

“I know, it’s not your fault. We’ll talk about this later, just get some sleep honey.”

“Okay.” You sniffle, trying to slow down the crying. “I’m sorry, I love you, you’re a really good mom.”

“Shhhh.” Jessie lets her fingers run through your hair again, trying to soothe you back to sleep. She doesn’t need to hear you apologize for something that was beyond your control, she knew it was all hormones, your brain playing tricks on you. She knows she’s a good mom, she knows you’re a good mom, she doesn’t need your reassurance but it is nice to hear. “I love you. I’ll look after you and her. I’ve got you. Just close your eyes.”

You do, quickly falling asleep with the feeling of Jessie’s fingers in your hair and the sound of her whispering softly to your daughter about the first time you and she met, one of Jessie’s favorite stories to tell. The anxiety and stress wasn’t gone, but for once, with her by your side, it suddenly wasn’t all consuming.