#i had therapy today and it was so rough my therapist is having me back tomorrow!

[muldj0rd]

“You saved my life. You’re my superhero” || Lestappen

Summary: “I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Warnings: Jos Verstappen’s A+ parenting, Jos Verstappen is a warning in himself, talk about mental illness’, depression, eating disorder, angst, Max needs a hug, Charles gives it to him, internalised homophobia, top Charles, bottom Max, anal, anal fingering, handjob, dacryphilia, praise kink, insecure Max, insecurities, nipple play, Charles being Max’s first male partner

Masterlist || AO3

Growing up, and if you didn’t look too close, Max was a happy child

Good mother. Good sister. Grew up with a father with failed racing dreams

It gave him pressure, sure… But if he didn’t have the pressure… Would he be who he was today?

Today, Max Verstappen was a three-time world champion winner

3 times as more champions than his dad

61 more wins than his dad ever had

Was his dad a good dad, though?

Jos Verstappen was the worst dad, if he even deserved to call himself a father

Max grew up with all kinds of mental illness’. Some he grew out of, some he didn’t

Depression. Stayed all through out his karting days and up until now

Eating Disorder. He didn’t feel valid for having one, and thinking he made it up because he didn’t look like someone with an ED

He wasn’t fit. He wasn’t skinny. He wasn’t…

He’d look in the mirror every morning, looking at his shirt covered chest, telling himself he needed to work out more, loose the fat around his stomach

No matter how hard he tried to loose the fat, he could never look good or how he wanted

He could never look like Charles

Charles was pretty. Who was Max kidding? Charles was hot… Until he slept. Charles was drop dead gorgeous when he slept

Max didn’t care it sounded creepy- it wasn’t, right? They were friends, and Charles had fallen asleep in his company before, so naturally Max had seen Charles asleep. Gorgeous

Max wouldn’t be where he was without his so called father

Max would be dead without Charles

Max wasn’t gay. He wasn’t. It was wrong… That’s at least what his dad had told him after Max had told him a story about Charles that maybe to Jos sounded a tad bit too friendly

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is pretty”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is slightly attractive”

Max wasn’t gay

”Charles is hot”

Was Max gay?

No.

Red Bull had suggested- Christian had suggested to Max that he tried out therapy, he refused of course, but when Christian didn’t shut the fuck up, he agreed just to keep him off of his back

“Who helped you become who you are today? A three-time champion, that is?” The therapist asked curious

“My dad… I guess” Max shrugged slightly, biting his bottom lip softly, the skin rough from where he had been nibbling at it for a few days, stressed about this session

“You guess?” He asked curious, shifting in his seat

“I wouldn’t be a champion without my dad, but I wouldn’t be…” Max sighed, nails scraping his palm, itching the anxious feeling “…I wouldn’t be… I wouldn’t be alive… Without… Without C-Charles” It was if the words were wrong, or a sin of some kind

“Charles? Leclerc?” He questioned, knitting his eyebrows together

“He’s always been there for me” Max shrugged slightly, his bottom lip trembling “When… When everybody was… When everybody was against me, Charles had been there. Always. Picking me up from the dirt of the track, telling me everything would be okay and that people could go fuck themselves” He chuckled softly, his eyes welling up, glazing with tears

“So… You and Charles are friends?” He hummed, writing something down on his notes

“Yeah. I guess…” Max hummed, shrugging slightly, sniffling

“You need to stop guessing, and instead start to know” He sighed “You like Charles?”

“Yes” Max hummed “I mean- no. Not like that. I guess-… I know, Charles is a friend”

“You find Charles attractive?” Max looked up, his tears now dried

“H-He’s pretty. I gue- I know” Max swallowed “Sometimes” He shrugged slightly

“When? When is Charles pretty to you?” He shifted curiously in his chair, the one hour now gone, but he wanted to hear more from Max

“When he sleeps” Max shrugged “His long eye lashes against his cheek bones, his lips slightly parted, pretty lips… Full. Nice. His hair messy… Looks more fluffy that way. I just kinda wanna stroke it, thread my fingers through it” Max smiled softly, not realising what he was saying

“Max…” He sighed softly “I can’t tell you how you feel, but… I think maybe you should reconsider what you feel towards Charles

“I’m not gay” Max said confused, shaking his head slightly “I’m not”

“I’m not saying you are, Max… I’m saying you should reconsider if Charles and you are better friends than you go around and think”

”I’m not gay” Max kept mumbling all the time, in all the languages he knew

“You listening, boy?” Jos asked when he saw and heard Max mumbling to himself “What you mumbling about?”

“Nothing. Sorry father. I’m listening” Max apologised, squirming in his seat where he sat

He wasn’t listening, and he knew his father knew, and he was sure as hell to be beaten over it later

MAX: Can I come over and cuddle with Leo?

Charles blinked his eyes open. He was yet to fall asleep when he heard the ping, but close to

The light was bright in his eyes. 1:36 said his phone when he turned the brightness down

CHARLES: It’s almost 2 am, and he’s asleep. What about Sassy and Jimmy?

MAX: Can I come over to just see you then?

Max always used Leo as an excuse to see Charles when he needed it

CHARLES: Of course you can, Max

’Thank you. I love you’

MAX: Thank you. I’ll be there in a bit

Moments like these came often, so to not wake the whole apartment complex, Charles had given Max a key

Max closed the door behind him quietly. Kicking off his shoes and his jacket, putting them neatly on their respectful places, knowing Charles was a neat freak

Max softly got into Charles bed, careful not to wake him if he was asleep, Leo stirring quietly awake when he moved to lay on his side, back facing Charles’

Max’ breath hitched slightly as he felt Charles pull the duvet up over his body, an arm around his waist, keeping him close, soothing him softly to sleep

Charles asked once at 3 am what happened. Max broke into tears. Charles hated seeing Max like that, so he never asked again

He felt guilty for never asking. Selfish. Max didn’t want to talk about it anyways, so it was all good

Max woke up by Leo licking all over his face, making him groan softly

He was now laying on his stomach as Leo curled into his side, his fur soft against Max’s hand that was stroking him

He got out of the bed, seeing as Charles wasn’t there. His mind worked on auto pilot, his body walking towards the smell of food

“I’m sorry” Max murmured from where he stood in the middle of the living room, looking into the kitchen

Charles’s body stiffened slightly “It’s fine. It’s what friends are for” He chocked out, not looking at Max

Why didn’t he? He always looked at Max. No matter what

“I’m still sorry” Max walked closer, stopping a few feet away from him. Charles only hummed “You always look at me” Max whispered quietly “Did I do something?”

“You have a black eye and bruises on your left bicep” Charles sighed, turning off the stove “If I look at you, I might just break down myself” Charles chuckled softly

Max was the one getting abused, so why was Charles the one going to break down?

“Charles…” Max almost whined, looking up into the back of Charles head “Look at me, please… Charles, I need you to look at me” Max whispered

Charles tapped on the counter with his nail, closing his eyes and tilting his head up to the ceiling, hoping the unshed tears would just go away

When they didn’t and he couldn’t stretch it any longer, he turned around, opening his eyes slowly

He shouldn’t have. The tears streamed silently down his cheeks the moment he saw Max’s disheveled look

Max drew Charles into his arms, Charles immediately shoving his head into the crook of Max’s neck, his hands clutching at the front of Max’s shirt

“I’m so sorry. I should’ve been there for you. I should’ve saved you” Charles sobbed into Max’s neck, his body shaking

‘You saved my life’

Max’s eyes welled up, feeling guilty that he had made Charles feel like this. Made him feel like he should apologise

“It’s not your fault” Max chocked out, sniffling slightly, holding back tears as best as he could

Charles leaned away from Max neck, his sobbing quieting down, now eye to eye

Max took his hand up to Charles’s cheek, the rough pad of his thumb wiping away tears around his beautiful green eyes

“It’s not your fault” Max tried again

Max wanted to lean in, kissing Charles until they were both passed out from oxygen. It wasn’t the right time… or was it?

‘Fuck it. I am gay’ Max though before slowly leaning in, kissing Charles softly, Charles kissing back immediately

“Thought you weren’t gay” Charles chuckled, tear stains on his cheeks and chin

“What?” Max asked, still dazed from how good and right the kiss felt

“I’ve heard you mumbling all last week” Charles chuckled again, his hands squeezing Max’s waist softly

“Oh… Well…” Max scratched the nape of his neck “I guess my therapist have gotten into my head”

“No… He wouldn’t do that. He’s just given you a push towards something you couldn’t walk towards yourself” Charles said softly, his green eyes wet from his earlier crying

How could Max not want to kiss Charles when looked like that? So he did. Max leaned back in to kiss Charles

Charles kissed back as well, a little more tender than before

Charles wanted Max- no. Charles needed Max. He needed him in a way no other could give him

He kissed Max a little harder, drawing a yelp out of him as well as Charles pushed Max softly up against the island counter, trapping his body

Charles’ hand went into Max’s hair. It was cut. Charles hated it. Max looked better with longer hair, but he always cut it because Jos said ’It made him look like a faggot’

It wasn’t cut too short, so Charles stilled managed to tug softly, making Max leaning back with a whimper, Charles’ lips going to his throat

“You’re pretty when you cry” Max chocked out, closing his eyes, trying to think of anything else than what it might feel like having Charles inside of him

“Yeah? That’s your kink?” Charles chuckled, his tongue lapping at Max’s throat and over his Adam’s apple

“N-no” Max chocked out… Maybe it was, yes. It definitely turned him on a little, but he didn’t want Charles to cry during sex

“Hm. Shame” Charles hummed, his hands on Max’s hips, pulling him away from the counter, guiding him towards the bedroom again

“Shame?” Max asked confused, Charles pushing him softly to lay down against the bed

“Yeah” Charles hummed, sitting down in between Max’s spread legs, hands just below where his shirt ended “Would love to see you cry in pleasure”

Charles leaned down, kissing Max again, his hands traveling under Max shirt, but he stopped him, pushing at his wrists

Charles stoped, leaning back again, seeing Max’s face turned to the side, his eyes screwed shut, hands tight around Charles’ wrists

“Hey, hey. It’s okay. We don’t have to. It’s fine. I’m sorry for pressuring you” Charles said softly, hissing quietly at Max’s strong grip around his wrists

“No, no. I want to. It’s just-… I don’t-… I don’t like m-my…” He had turned his head back to Charles, but his eyes were still screwed shut

“I do. You’re so goddamn beautiful that it hurts to look at you” Charles sighed “And I want to show you just how much I love all of you”

Max whimpered softly. Love? His hands slowly loosening around Charles’ wrists, slowly opening his eyes

“Let me show you” Charles whispered, his eyes soft and wide. Max nodded softly “That’s not enough for me, amour”

“Show me” Max nodded softly

“Thank you. We can always stop if you get too uncomfortable, okay?” Max nodded “Max”

“Yes” He said as soon as Charles said his name

’Good boy’ It sat on Charles tongue. He didn’t say it

Charles didn’t know, but he’d assume that Max had a praise kink- I mean, who wouldn’t in his state?

He didn’t get any praise when he was younger, so Charles had now decided to make it his mission and give Max praise for every little thing

“Lift your arms” Charles said softly

He could feel the hesitation in Max’s hands were they twitched around Charles’s wrists before he pulled them off and over his head, sitting slightly up so Charles could pull the T-shirt over his head

Max fell back against the bed, immediately covering his stomach with his arms

Charles leaned down, kissing Max from his lips, down his chin, along his jaw, down his neck, over his throat, and down to his collarbone

Max whimpered every time Charles moved to a new spot, arching his neck to let Charles have more space, his arms tightening around his stomach

“You’re so fucking beautiful, mon amour. So fucking beautiful” Charles hummed, kissing down Max’s chest softly

Max moaned softly when Charles licked over one of his nipples, causing him to hold his hand over his mouth, giving Charles the chance to kiss further down, closing in on his stomach

Max felt like pushing Charles away, but why would he? Max thought it over

If it was anybody else, he hadn’t let it go this far, but it wasn’t anybody else. It was Charles. Charles who had saved him. Charles who has saved his life. He wouldn’t find that part of his body disgusting. Would he?

Max moved his other arm, letting both arms fall to his sides

Charles looked up at Max, slightly surprised he had gotten him comfortable, but he loved it nonetheless

Max, the broken man with no proper childhood, was comfortable around Charles

Charles continued to kiss Max’s stomach, slowly getting lower, kissing the skin above Max’s waistband of his sweats

Max wanted to thread his fingers through Charles’ hair, so he did. The dark brown locks soft around Max’s rough fingers

“Charlie” Max whined quietly as Charles darted his tongue out, licking at the stubble burns he had accidentally made seeming he hadn’t shaven in a couple of days

“Yes, amour?” Charles asked teasingly, leaning back to see the burns he had accidentally made down Max’s pale body

“Please” Max whimpered “I n-need you” He stuttered, blushing red from the embarrassment of sounding needy and desperate

“Yeah? You need me?” Charles chuckled, to which Max mumbled out a low ‘yes’ “Alright. Sweats and briefs off” Charles patted the outside of Max’s thigh before he went to the night stand, taking the lube from the drawer

Charles turned back to the bed, seeing Max now completely naked and laid further up the bed

“Mon dieu. You have no idea how fucking beautiful you are” Charles sighed with a slight smile, his hands caressing Max’s thighs, watching as his hard cock twitched at the affection, leaking slightly

“This isn’t fair” Max whined, tugging at the hem of Charles’ shirt

Charles took the hint, chuckling softly as he pulled the T-shirt off of himself

Max almost drooled at the sight, but was quickly replaced with a small pout “I’ll never look like you” He mumbled

“I don’t want you to, amour. I want you to look just like this” He murmured, opening the lube bottle, pouring some on his fingers

“Remember; you can tell me to stop whenever, okay?” Charles reminded Max as he warmed up the lube

Max nodded quietly “Amour” Charles said, in a tone that was slightly warningly

“Yes” Max said “Jus’-… please Charlie” Max whined, bucking his hips slightly, trying to show Charles how much he needed him

Charles only chuckled softly, circling Max’s hole softly, making Max moan softly, his hands gripping at the sheets

Though, his hands immediately flew to Charles’ biceps when Charles slowly pushed in his finger

“F-fuck- Charles” Max whimpered, feeling Charles slowly moved his finger, twisting it and slowly moving in and out of him

When Max was loose enough, Charles pushed in a second finger, Max moaning at the action, his back arching

“Dieu. Why haven’t I made a move before, hm? You’re so fucking beautiful like this” Charles chuckled, his fingers slowly and softly moving in and out of Max, his lips attached to Max’s bent knee, most likely giving him burns there as well

“C-Charles. Please- i-i need it so bad. Please” Max had never thought in a million years he’d be begging for Charles’ cock inside him

“Shh. I got you, baby” Charles soothed, slowly pulling his fingers out of Max, loving the whine that escaped Max’s lips

Charles wiped his fingers on the inside of Max’s thigh so he could pull his own sweats and briefs down

When Charles had lubed himself and lining himself up with Max’s fluttering hole, Max held his hands against Charles’ abdomen, stopping him softly

“I-i’ve never… I’ve never had sex with a man- I don’t know what I’m doing” Max said, more confident then when they had started

“I know, amour. I got you, okay? Just lay back and tell if you want to stop or something you want to do different” Charles said, a slight smirk on his lips

Max nodded softly “Yes” He whimpered softly

“Good boy” It flew past Charles’ lips before he could stop it, but when he saw how red Max’s whole body got, he didn’t want to take it back

Max was about to come back with a witty comment, but could only moan when Charles slowly pushed into him, stopping every few inches, letting Max adjust before he continued

Charles kissed along Max’s collarbone, feeling him loosen around his cock

“C-Char… Please” Max breathed out, trying to move against Charles, having no success to get any kind of friction

“Come on. Finish my name. I like how you say your S’” Charles chuckled, thrusting softly once, Max moaning softly

“Charles” Max gasped when Charles thrusted once again

Max had been insecure about his lisp forever ever since they were kids, and Charles had loved the way Max said his name just as long

Charles set a pace and rhythm that worked for him, and one Max didn’t have any problem with

Charles put a hand under Max’s body, angling his hips slightly so it was easier for Charles to hit his prostate, making Max moan loudly and chant his name like a prayer

“Charles- please- I need… I need to come, please” Max almost cried out, nails digging into Charles’ back

Charles wrapped his hand around Max’s neglected cock, stroking him at the same speed of his hips “Come for me, amour”

Max’s nails dug into Charles’ back so hard he was afraid he’d break his skin as he came, covering his own stomach and Charles’s hand with his cum

Charles slowed his hand and hips down, moaning Max’s name softly into his pale neck as he came himself

“I like your hair longer” Charles murmured, kissing Max’s shoulder softly as they sat in the bathtub, Charles’ hand on Max’s stomach, stroking his thumb over his skin

Max sighed “My dad-“

“Fuck what he thinks. He’s not your father. He’s a man who treats a child like a subject” Charles said softly, kissing Max’s cheek bone just under where his black eye shone ended

Max wanted to cry. Charles was right. Jos never treated him like a son. Maybe for the first few years, but when Max became competitive in karting, he became a subject

“Move in” Charles said, sensing Max wanted to change the subject “I don’t like you living somewhere he knows” Charles held Max closer “Please”

Max nodded softly “I will. I want nothing else… But, we’ll have to learn Sassy and Jimmy to be nice to Leo” He chuckled

[candycandy00]

Hii! For your 2k followers event can you do

Character: Toji

AU Setting: Prison (As prisoner)

Spice Level: NSFW

Mood: Writers choice :)

Kinks: Whatever you see fit!!

Catch You on the Outside - A Toji x Reader Fanfic

Smut. 18+. AU. Fem Reader. Toji as a Prisoner. Rough sex. Rough oral.

Part of CandyCandy’s 2k Followers Event! These two requests were very similar so I combined them. Any feedback would be greatly appreciated! Dividers by @benkeibear!

You’re walking down the hall of the prison, just finishing your daily sessions with the prisoners in your therapy program, when you see him. 

Fushiguro Toji. You heard he was being transferred here, but you didn’t realize it would be today. He’s quite notorious, with a long list of convictions. Multiple counts of murder, extortion, armed robbery, assault, and dozens of lesser offenses. If it’s bad, he’s probably done it at some point. 

He’s so much bigger in person than he looked on the news. How tall is this guy? And he so muscular that he looks like he could wrestle a grizzly bear and win. He’s also much better looking in person. His face, though scarred and a bit rugged, is very handsome and his eyes are a sharp emerald green. 

As a team of six guards lead him by you, his eyes shift over to you. They travel shamelessly up and down your body, and it feels like his gaze is peeling your clothes off right there in the hall. It makes your face flush with heat. You’re no stranger to being ogled by the prisoners here, but there’s something absolutely obscene about the way Toji does it, the look in his eyes that says, “I’ll be fucking you by the weekend”, the way he subtly licks his lips, the way he smirks as if he could break loose and snap every guard’s neck before anyone could draw a gun.

It all sends a shiver down your spine. And as much as you hate to admit it, you feel a growing wetness in your panties. 

The next day you’re surprised to find out Toji signed up for the therapy program. He didn’t seem like the type to give therapy a shot, and you wonder if he only signed up so that he could be alone in a room with you. It wouldn’t be the first time a prisoner has tried that. You can always tell right away when they have no interest in actually talking about their feelings. They spend the session staring at your tits and sometimes even making disgusting comments or outright asking you for sex. You report their behavior and boot them from the program without a second thought. 

So what will it be with Toji? As you walk into the room to have your first session with him, you find yourself almost hoping he’ll proposition you. Of course you wouldn’t act on it. You’re a professional after all. But it might give you some masturbation material for tonight. Lord knows your brief run in with him yesterday gave you plenty for last night. 

He’s sitting in a metal chair, his wrists handcuffed behind his back. There’s a table in front of him, and another chair for you to sit across from him. Three guards are standing in the room. 

“You three can step out,” you tell them. Guards never stay in the room during sessions. Instead they wait outside the door. There’s also a camera in the corner of the room. It doesn’t record sound, only visuals, to protect the privacy of the prisoners. 

“We were told to stay in here,” one of them says. “Fushiguro has been known to attack doctors and therapists in the past.”

You glance over at him, and he gives you a smile. 

“He’s handcuffed, what’s he going to do?” you ask. 

One of the guards glances apprehensively at Toji. “I don’t think you realize how dangerous he is, ma’am.”

You bristle at that remark. “Are you seriously implying I don’t understand how dangerous my job is? I’ve worked with violent criminals daily for five years. I’ve had knives held to my throat. I’ve been punched in the face. Three different men have tried to rape me. So don’t tell me how dangerous this is!”

The guard seems to shrivel a bit at your outburst. “I’m sorry, but we can’t just leave you alone in here with him.”

“Listen,” you say, stepping closer to him, “doing my job properly depends on establishing trust with the prisoner. I can’t do that with you three hovering around in here. So wait outside the door. I’ll scream if he tries anything.”

The three guards look at each other, then one of them sighs and says, “We’ll give you twenty minutes.”

With that, they file out of the room and shut the door. You stare after them for a moment, feeling irritated but also proud of yourself for standing your ground. Then you walk over and take the seat across from Toji. 

“I’m sorry about that. I’ll have a word with the warden before tomorrow’s session,” you tell him, pulling your notepad and pen, as well as a recording device, from your bag. “Do you have any objections to me recording our conversations?”

He shakes his head. “I don’t care.”

You study his face. He still has that oddly confident look, as if he’s only staying here in prison for the fun of it. 

“Fushiguro-san, I want to make something clear right off the bat. If I think you’re not serious about this program, I’ll remove you immediately. But if you want to give therapy a fair shot, I’ll be happy to help you to the best of my ability.”

“Call me Toji,” he says, a smirk on his scarred lips. “And I’m completely serious about this. Why else would I sign up?”

You’ve already pushed record on the device and sat it between the two of you on the table. “Some prisoners sign up just to get close to me,” you say, opening your notebook to a clean page. 

“Really? Well don’t worry,” he says, that damn smirk still on his face, “I’m not that desperate. I’ve fucked enough women to last a lifetime.”

The comment gives you pause. Professionally, you should be relieved. But personally? You find it a little insulting. You click your fountain pen. “That’s good to know,” you say smoothly. 

“Don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” he says. 

“Of course not. It’s best for you if you see me as a professional here to help you.”

He laughs. “Best for you too.”

You look up from your notepad. “What do you mean by that?”

He tilts his head slightly, looking at you the way a lion looks at a wounded zebra. “If I saw you as a woman I wanna fuck, I’d have you bent over this table already.”

You know exactly what he’s doing, and he’s not the first. You sit your pen on the table and look at him with a cool expression. “And if I saw you as a man I want to fuck, Toji, I’d be under this table deep throating your cock right now. Thankfully, we’ve established that’s not the case, so let’s begin the session, shall we?”

His eyes widen slightly, then a broad grin spreads over his face. “Well, aren’t you a little firecracker!”

“No, I’m a woman who has dealt with men like you for years. So if you want to shock or frighten me, you’ll have to do better than that.”

There’s a gleam of excitement in his eyes as he stares at you. “How about I take these cuffs off and ram your pretty little head into the wall until it’s just a bloody pile of hamburger?”

You scoff as you jot down notes. In red ink you’ve written “violent tendencies” and “empty threats”. You barely glance up at him as you say, “You can’t just take the cuffs off, Toji. They’re pretty much designed to prevent that.”

“Really?” he asks, then he slowly pulls his hands forward in front of him. Only one has a cuff on it, the other metal ring dangling uselessly from it. 

Your first instinct is to jump up and flee the room. He’s loose! He’s probably been loose this whole time. The most violent man that’s ever been in this prison, that you’ve just been provoking, is just a few feet away from you. Should you scream? Could the guards even make it into the room before he kills you? 

Wait, if he wanted to kill you, he probably would have already. You decide to take a gamble. “So?” you ask, trying to keep your voice even, praying he doesn’t notice the slight tremor in your hands. “What are you going to do to me, Toji?”

He’s already pulled his hands back behind him. His earlier movement had been subtle enough that the guard monitoring the camera probably didn’t even notice. Toji grins. “There’s a lot of things I wanna do to you. The list is growin’ the longer I talk to you. The question is, what do you want me to do?”

You look at him for a moment, at his smug, handsome face, at his muscular form flexing beneath the tightly fitted black T-shirt. Did the prison not have a shirt big enough for him? You sit back in your chair, crossing your legs. “I want you to take therapy seriously. I want to help-“

“You want me to split you open on my cock,” he says, cutting you off. “You think I can’t tell when a woman wants me? I bet your little pussy is drooling right now.”

You stare at him wordlessly. Damn it, he’s right! You uncross your legs and cross them again, trying to give yourself a bit of relief. You want his rough, thick fingers inside you. 

Toji leans back, letting his thighs spread apart. He’s pushed back far enough from the table for you to see his crotch, and the outline of something impossibly huge. He notices you looking. “That’s right. Take a good look. I bet you’ve never seen a dick this big before. Now imagine how it’s gonna feel when I’m ramming it in your tight little hole.”

Your breaths are coming quicker despite your best attempts to remain calm. You glance up at the camera in the corner. Toji follows your gaze. 

“I’m guessing you need to do something about that,” he says. “Probably wouldn’t look very professional to be on camera getting your guts rearranged by a prisoner, huh?”

You place the pen and notebook in your bag and stop the recording device. The twenty minutes are almost up. “I’ll think about it,” you say as calmly as you can. 

He smiles at you as the guard opens the door and escorts you out. 

For the next several days, you continue your sessions with Toji. Neither of you mention his proposition, and he never removes the handcuffs again, at least as far as you know. Still, just knowing he can if he wants to gives you a thrill. 

He’s surprisingly open during his sessions. He tells you about a miserable childhood, a violent youth, a marriage that ended in the death of the only woman he ever loved, and (most shocking of all) a teenage son he hasn’t seen in years. 

“I send him money,” he tells you. “He accepts it, but he never answers when I call or text him. Not that I blame him. Guess it’s embarrassing to have a murderer for a father.”

There’s a hint of sadness when he says it, the first genuine emotion you’ve seen from him. But he shrugs like he doesn’t care and moves on from the topic. 

Fushiguro Toji is a fascinating man. If possible, you’d love to help him. 

But first, you want him to fuck you until you can’t form thoughts. 

A week after your first session with him, you decide to do something about that damn camera. It’s an easy task for you, someone who can move freely through the prison and has the trust of everyone there. The first step is to disable the monitor in the security room, which you do with no issue. It’s a temporary thing though, so you have to hurry to the consultation room and disable the camera itself while the monitor isn’t working, so no one sees what you’re doing. 

Once the camera has been broken, you’re home free. You’ve worked here long enough to know it’ll take several days for them to replace the camera. 

So today, when the guards walk out of the room, you lock the door behind them. Toji notices, and glances at the camera. “I take it that’s not recording?”

You nod. “It’s completely busted.”

He moves his arms around in front of him, uncuffed, and stands up, rolling his shoulders. Then in an instant he’s right in front of you, pressing you back against the wall, looming over you with a threatening aura. “You’re takin’ a big risk,” he says, “being alone with a guy like me. You must want my dick real bad.”

Your heart is pounding. This man could snap your neck like a twig. He could kill you before you can blink. But fuck, you’re so turned on! 

You smile up at him, using your hands to press back against his chest. “Sit down and I’ll show you how much I want it.”

His eyes seem to light up. He wears that familiar smirk as he returns to the chair and sits, lazily opening his legs. As you walk over, you unbutton your crisp white shirt, revealing a sexy lace bra you picked for today. You drop the shirt on the floor and unzip your pencil skirt, stepping out of it. You’re wearing matching lace panties with silk stockings and a garter belt. You chose the sexiest combo possible for this encounter. 

Toji seems to appreciate your efforts. His eyes drink in your form as he palms himself through his prison issued sweat pants. Then he slides the waistband down, and the biggest cock you’ve ever seen pops out. Strong and tall like its owner, it’s already rock hard. It looks delicious. 

When you reach him, you drop to your knees in front of him and grasp his shaft in one hand. Your fingers can’t even wrap all the way around its veiny girth, but you stroke him slowly, watching the massive organ twitch in your grip. You lean forward and lick the tip, then slide your tongue all around it, drenching it with your saliva before taking it into your mouth. 

It doesn’t fit, but you manage to get most of it in without choking. You’re pretty proud of your throat game, so you press even further down, letting him fill your mouth completely, almost swallowing him. You hear a short grunt and feel his big hand on your head, holding you down. You focus on breathing through your nose, your tongue licking the underside of his cock while your throat tightens around him. 

Finally he releases his grip, and you pull back enough to lick him properly, sucking on the tip with your pursed lips. Then he’s in your mouth again, and you’re moving your head back and forth, looking up at his face as you repeatedly take him halfway down your throat. 

His hand is now resting on your head, not applying any pressure but threading his fingers through your hair. “Fuck, you weren’t kiddin’ about bein’ hungry for my dick!”

After a few more minutes pass, his grip tightens again, and he shoves your head down even further than before, completely cutting off your air. Then, he shoots his cum directly down your throat, forcing you to swallow every drop. 

When he releases you and pulls out of your mouth, you sputter and gasp, then you diligently get to work cleaning his cock with your tongue, savoring the taste of his cum. You’re in a hurry to get him hard again. You’ve arranged for the sessions to last forty-five minutes, and you don’t intend to end this without being thoroughly fucked. 

Thankfully, Toji has plenty of stamina. He’s hard again in no time, standing up from the chair and tearing the delicate lace underwear from your body. You wince, trying not to think about how expensive they were. 

His hands are all over you, roughly exploring every inch. When his hand dips down between your thighs, and he feels how wet you are, he grins. You’re waiting for some quip, but instead he jerks you around to face away from him and pushes your upper half face down on the table. He gives your bare ass a slap before his hands spread your cheeks. His knees push your legs apart, and with no warning, he shoves all the way inside your dripping pussy. 

You gasp at the stretch, at how fucking huge he is, but he doesn’t hesitate for a moment before he’s pounding into you. He’s probably aware of the time limit himself, so he wastes no time with letting you adjust to his size. 

He fucks you hard, so hard that your feet are knocked off the floor and your legs dangle from the table. You hold onto the edge of it with both hands, gripping it for dear life, crying out obscenely each time his tip slams into your cervix. 

“Ahh, fuck! You’re gonna break me!” you yell. 

You hear Toji laugh behind you. “I thought you could handle me!”

You rise up from the table, arching your back, and reach back with one arm to grab his shirt and get some leverage. You take one of his hands from your waist and move it down, between your pried open thighs. He takes the hint, his fingers finding your clit and rubbing it vigorously, spreading your leaking fluids all around. You moan at the touch, leaning back into him, letting the pleasure overtake you. 

With a thrill, you imagine the horrified looks on the guards’ faces if they walked in. You locked the door, but they have a keycard to open it. At best it would buy you a few seconds. But the thought of being caught moaning and cumming on a murderer’s cock sends you over the edge. You cry out, your body spasming as Toji impales you, your aching pussy clenching around him. 

“You got yours,” you hear him say, his fingers giving a quick pinch to your hyper sensitive clit, “now I’m gonna fill you up.”

You barely have time to process those words before you feel his hot cum shoot inside you, all the way to your core. 

When he’s finished, he pulls out and tucks himself back into his pants. He watches you lean against the table for a few moments, trembling and trying to catch your breath, too exhausted and sore to even close your legs. But you have to straighten yourself out. The clock is ticking. You stagger over to your pile of clothes and pull them back on, shoving your shredded underwear into your bag. 

You look at him, sitting there looking so smug and calm… and so very fuckable. You reach into your bag and pull out the item you swiped from the security room earlier. You step over and hand it to him. 

“This is a master keycard. It should let you open any door until they figure it out. Do whatever you please with it,” you tell him. 

He takes it, slipping it into the pocket of his sweats. “Awful nice of you.”

“Go and see your son. Make things right with him.”

His eyes widen, then he looks away, seeming the slightest bit awkward for the first time. “You’ll get fired if anyone finds out.”

You shrug. “So I won’t let anyone find out. Don’t snitch on me.”

He laughs as he looks back at you. “Thanks, doll. I’ll find you on the outside.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Is that a threat?”

He smiles, the scar on his lips stretching. “It’s a promise.”

[smallestapplin]

aaaaaa i just saw that you take stardew reqs!! i've been following for a bit but i NEVER get your posts on my dash i stg,,,

may i request some cuddles and reassurances for shane? i can't fix him but i want to just hold him and pretend I can,, can be platonic or romantic, up to you!

I love Shane, cause I'm depressed and self destructive too mf now get over here so I can hug you-

Romance is hinted and it's mutual but neither have confessed.

TW : just Shane having some self deprecating thoughts but nothing serious.

-

-

-

Shane has been doing much better in the months following when you found him drunk by the cliff side, you two have grown closer allowing you to watch how therapy continues to improve him.

Some days are better than others, but you're so proud of the improvements he's been making. But even then he still has some bad days, and those are the days he doesn't want you to see.

He feels so tired, so worthless, so useless, all he can do is lay in bed and rot.

He's watched his clock tick from 8am to 12pm to 5pm and so on, he just doesn't have the energy to get up, the fight he had been carrying just feels like a burden now.

He had been doing so good to, he's sure you'd be disappointed in him for slipping into a depressive state like this. Shane is so lost in his head he doesn't hear his bedroom door open or close, but he dos feel his bed side dip at the newly added weight.

But he doesn't bother looking up, afraid he may start crying, which is all the more likely when you so tenderly brush his hair from his face.

"Rough day today?" You ask, though you know the answer.

You smile at him, even as he finally looks at you with tear filled green eyes. Even now, you still look at him with such care and warmth, what did he ever do to deserve you?

You kick your boots off and lay down behind him, curling up against him with your face buried into the back of his neck and your arms around his waist. You know he will tell you when he is ready, but for right now you just want to distract him from his pain.

"You know my chickens missed you today, Jopeep was not happy when I was the one trying to give her pets, made this clucking sound that i swear sounded like she was sassing me."

You chuckle, your smile growing when Shane gives a small snort.

"And then Eggatha, bless her, hopped on my shoulder like she usually does, but kept looking around like a bird on a mission."

He can almost imagine your day with your flock, your chickens have always had such personalities it was a delight.

"I misssed you too, I was worried when you didn't stop by or answered my text, I figured you were sleeping. But I did bring over some stuffed peppers for you."

You sound so happy, like you don't mind being here with him while he's like this.

"You don't have to do all this." His voice is rough and gravely from not being used all day today, but it sounds so weak.

"I know, you make it sound like I do all this out of some obligation. You do know I do all this because I want to, right? You deserve some peace and joy, you've been through enough."

You're doing all this because you want to.

You help him practice the coping skills and thought processes his therapist has given him, because you want to.

You cook his favorite dishes because you want to.

There is no needing to.

There is no feeling pity and doing these things.

You want to.

"I like having you around, it's fun having you over at the farm and I get to see how many starws of hay I can put in your hood before you notice, I like our inside jokes, I like our time together, I like you and your company, even if you can't see it, it's there."

His body trembles, leaving him shaking like a leaf as he tries to hold back the tears that are already falling down his cheeks.

"But why, I'm not..." he trails off, letting out a choked sob, but that doesn't stop you.

"Healing takes time, it's a slow process and there will be days or times you slip back, to take a few steps back, but you're still working on it, you are still trying to change for the better. And i don't know if you have noticed, but even in two months of therpay you have changed, you seem happier, you seem livelier. You will always have rough days or even rough weeks, but that doesn't mean you're a failure."

Shane can't stop the sobs that leave him, he finds himself flipping around to hug you, buring his face into your shoulder to let it all out. You hold him tightly, gently shushing him and reminding him to breathe.

"I will be here no matter what."

You know your love won't fix his pain, but you know your support can help him feel more confident about going about it.

You want to tell him you love him, that you adore him and his dry sense of humor, that his gentleness with the chickens and Jas make your heart swell.

But maybe you will wait a few more months and see how he is feeling.

You know he means the world to you, even as he cries himself to sleep in your arms after muttering 'thank you's over and over again.

He deserves a safe place to feel happy.

And you want to be that for him.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Replacement Therapy

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

In a desperate attempt to save your marriage, you begin to attend counseling with the famed Doctor Lecter but soon enough, things begin to take a turn. Based on prompt by @queenstarlight2

Warnings: mention of cheating, VERY INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONSHIP, reader has defined married name (let me know if you recognise it), reader is ever so slightly naive and easy to manipulate, insecurity (not explicitly mentioned what they are), murder, blood, little bit of humping and making out, implied smut, nudity

WC: 2.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry if I didn't do this prompt justice!!

Minors DNI

It was embarrassing, truly. Your husband said it was a disgrace too. But here you were, attending marriage counseling alone. There was no one else in the luxurious waiting room and you were grateful for that small reprieve, you don’t think you could have handled any more humiliation today.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter came highly regarded as the best (and most expensive) therapist in the state. So, foolishly, you had signed yourself and your husband of three years up for a session to see if you could fix your marriage. After all, it had been your fault that he cheated on you with his secretary, you were the one that selfishly denied him.

“Mrs Hansen?” You looked up to see a very well dressed older man standing in the doorway. His yellow eyes were fixated on you like a predator watching their prey but it didn’t scare you. You nodded and he shifted so his lean body was side on, gesturing for you to enter his office. Gathering up your coat and purse, you walked in.

The office was really quite lovely, walls covered in books, beautiful leather chairs and an ornate desk made you feel as if you had stepped into someone’s home rather than a psychiatrist’s practice. “Can I take your coat Mrs Hansen?” Dr Lecter stepped closer, offering his large hand to you.

“Um yes, thank you.” Your hands brushed as you gave him the expensive coat Lloyd bought for you. He smiled kindly at you before he turned his back so he could hang the garment up on the rack next to his own. You noted his suit, it was similar to the suits associates of your husband’s wore: expensive, exclusive.

“Take a seat and we can begin.” The smooth leather squeaked against the bare skin of your legs as you sat, the sound filling the otherwise silent office. Your heart dropped to your stomach and you quickly tugged down the hem of your dress over the expanse of your plump thighs. 

The doctor soon found his own seat opposite you. He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he did, taking on a relaxed air, as if he were about to watch television or read a book. It put you immediately at ease. “So tell me, why do you believe you are in need of counseling?” His voice was smooth and rich like an aged whiskey. 

“Well, recently, my husband and I have been going through a rough patch and I thought-“ You started, nervously playing with the gaudy wedding ring on your finger when Doctor Lecter stopped you.

“I asked why you needed counseling, not your husband. I do not doubt that he is in need of it but I make it a habit not to diagnose in absentia. So Mrs Hansen, I ask again; why do you need help?” The silence was deafening as his words sunk in. When was the last time someone offered to help? You were lost in your own mind, the questions consuming you.

But the doctor was patient, simply letting you experience your thoughts without any interruption. Too lost in your spiraling mind, you didn’t see how his eyes trailed down the length of your plump body, taking in each and every detail like you were some rare and beautiful creature. “I-I don’t know Doctor Lecter. I feel like I can’t be fixed but maybe my marriage can.”

“And why is it so important that you fix the marriage that is obviously making you unhappy?” Your head shot up with such a force your neck clicked.

“I’m not unhappy, I love my husband.” He tsked and leaned back in his seat, crossing one long leg over the other.

“Now now Mrs Hansen, I don’t tolerate liars in this office. I respect you enough to tell you to tell the truth and I expect the same respect from you.” You felt like a scolded child under the scrutinizing gaze of a parent. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until the tears fell onto your folded hands, rolling down onto your dress. “I love my husband.” You emphasised half-heartedly. Your voice thickened as more tears welled up, making your vision swim.

“And I do not doubt that my dear. But those we love can make us unhappy. And it is in your best interest to recognise that.” A box of tissues appeared before you, you took the whole thing. “How about we start at what makes you happy, do you have any hobbies?”

——————

Your sessions with Doctor Lecter, Hannibal as he insisted you call him, were the highlight of your week. Everything was getting better! Lloyd had even stopped pestering you about it, just sending you out the door with his black card to pay for it.

Hannibal had been wonderful, he helped you rediscover old passions and find new ones to keep your mind occupied during the day since Lloyd insisted you become a housewife after you were married. You felt lighter and truly happier. 

But the only downside to this whole thing was your unfortunate crush on the older man. Who could blame you? He was sauve and sophisticated but not condescending. He was kind but not a roll over. He was handsome but not unobtainable. He knew your soul better than Lloyd, he always seemed to know what you needed, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or someone to laugh with you. He recommended wines and getaways, museums and art galleries, he had even picked out a new perfume for you that had made your husband go absolutely feral for you.

A part of you wished you had met the doctor before Lloyd. You often wondered what your life would have been like if he was the one that swept you off your feet first. 

“How have you been this week? Have you been journalling like I asked you to?” You nodded, a large smile on your face. You pulled the beautiful leather-bound journal from your bag and handed it over to the good doctor without hesitation.

“Yep! Just like you told me to! One entry in the morning as soon as I get up and one at night right before I go to bed.” Hannibal winked at you from over his glasses.

“Very good girl." He purred before opening the book and beginning to read. It had been a strange request, to write down all your thoughts and actions through the day, including, well more like emphasising anything sexual that happened, especially if you pleasured yourself. But you trusted Hannibal and knew that he would do whatever was best for you.

“I see you and Mr Hansen had intercourse this week.” Your breath caught in your throat at his tone and the sudden frown marring his perfect face. Shamefully, you looked down at your lap.

“Yes we did.”

“But you write that you didn’t enjoy it. Can you tell me why?” Because I was thinking about you the whole time and what you would feel like inside of me instead of him. But you couldn’t say that to your therapist.

So you just shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t in the mood.” But like all lies you told him, Hannibal saw right through it, although, this time, he didn’t make any comment.

“I hope you were able to take care of yourself after then, I would hate to think that he left you feeling vulnerable and unsafe.” You most certainly had. A quick trip to the bathroom after he fell asleep with your waterproof vibrator and a tub full of hot soapy water and fixed the ache between your thighs. Especially when you called out Hannibal’s name when you climaxed.

“I took a hot bath and drank a glass of that red wine you recommended last week.” He nodded approvingly, the smile returning to his lips as he placed the book on the side table next to him. His legs spread slightly and you could not help but sneak a quick glance at the sizeable bulge hidden by his navy pinstripe pants.

Your eyes snapped back up to his own as he began to speak again. “Now this is a strange question but I find it useful to ask my patients this sometimes. How many times do you think you have had sex with your husband?” 

“What?” You breathed, legitimately shocked by the question. How could he even ask that? But like he could read your mind, Hannibal explained himself.

“I only ask because to a woman such as yourself who values intimacy and physical connection, sex is a very important and healthy part of a relationship. Knowing how often you and Mr Hansen engaged in such acts, and by focusing on how often it used to occur versus now can give me a better idea as to the state of your marriage.” 

Sceptically, you withdrew slightly, thinking about the many times you had been intimate with Lloyd. It hurt to reminisce on the times before your marriage when he was your whole world and you were his. When did it change? Or was it ever like that? “We dated for three months before we got married. We used to have sex at least twice a day. And then on the honeymoon it was pretty much a 12 hour affair every day. But about a month after we got back, the sex stopped. Since then it’s maybe been 10 or 20 times.” Hannibal slumped forward, his scruffy chin coming to rest on his intertwined fingers as he did the math in his head. 

“It isn’t unusual for couples to stop being intimate but it is certainly questionable for the sex to stop so quickly after it frequently occurred. Is there any reason you believe this has happened?” And like you couldn’t stop it, you started spilling your deepest and darkest secrets to him, just like all the times before.

——————

Fridays were reserved for Hannibal, you made that very clear to your life partner and apparently, he had taken full advantage of that. You stared at his computer in complete disbelief. There were thousands of messages from hundreds of women, each detailing the dirty and almost borderline illegal acts he committed with them.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, only wanting to find your mother’s pie recipe to give to Hannibal for today’s session but the logs were right there! Like he wanted you to find them. In a haze, you printed out as many of the chats as you could and stuffed them into your purse.

“Hmm.” Hannibal hummed as he looked over the various sheets of paper. His face remained neutral but inside he was seething. You had already confided in him about your husband's past ‘indiscretions’ and your insecurity about pleasing him sexually. “I won’t ask you how you feel about these chats because that would be unhelpful so instead I’m going to ask about what you wish to do about it.”

You had his undivided attention, his amber eyes locked on you as he awaited your decision. “I want to leave him.” Hannibal’s shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. “B-but I can’t afford the divorce. All of our money is his.” 

Slipping from his seat, he knelt before you as if in worship. Your legs squeezed together, both to sate your arousal from his close proximity and to prevent him catching sight of your soaked panties. “You needn’t worry my flower, I have more than enough money to buy your freedom.” 

“I can’t let you do that Hannibal. You’ve done so much for me already and I’ll forever be grateful but this is something I need to do on my own.” His eyes grew softer, filled with swirling emotion. Palms skated up your leg, cupping the side of your knee in a grip far too tight to be friendly.

The doctor was close enough now you could study the details of his face far more than you ever could before.  Your gaze followed the lines of his wrinkles, going from the crows feet by his eyes to the smile lines on his cheeks. Then to his lips. “I would do anything for you, my flower, you never have to ask.” Slowly, his hands moved higher and his lean body closer. His broad shoulders forced your legs apart so he could rest between them. “If I cannot give you financial support, let me offer you my home, at least until you are on your own two feet.”

You could not speak, too lost in the idea of surging forward and finally kissing him. “Ok.” You murmured, conceding to his wishes. 

“Wonderful. Then how about we wrap up this session early so we can get you home and fed.” You whined low in your throat as he slipped away but thankfully, he didn’t hear you. He helped you to your feet and then turned to fetch your coats

“Whatever you want, Doctor.” You said jokingly. He laughed but you missed the truly wicked grin spreading over his face. Oh yes, whatever he wants indeed.

——————

You were truly beautiful when you slept. It was like all of your worries and stresses washed away, leaving you almost fae-like in appearance. Hannibal had lost count of the amount of times he had snuck into your home to catch a glimpse of your resting form. He had drawn you each time, and each time, he took something of yours. A lock of your hair, a piece of jewelry, even several panties from your hamper., things you wouldn’t really notice if they went missing.

But now, you were here, in his home and in his bed. You were his.

He had hoped that you would have come to your senses months ago and realised that he would be a better lover than this worm of a man could ever be. But it seems that you needed a bit more of a push to fall into his arms. 

The messages had been easy to fake. He knew you wanted a hero to come and save you from your husband, the chats had been the perfect excuse to come to him. 

You shifted in your sleep and the dark sheets pooled around your wide hips, exposing the way his own shirt stretched across your large body. He could even see how your nipples pebbled in the chilly air of the room. “Absolutely divine.” He could not help himself.

As quietly as he could, Hannibal slipped into the bed beside you, not caring that he was staining the bedding with the still wet blood that covered his naked skin. Your legs fell open easily, allowing him to crawl up your body, taking his rightful place above you.

Red began to seep through your white shirt, blooming like a flower. “My beautiful, perfect flower.” He nosed along your pulse point, inhaling your alluring scent like he needed it to live. You were so soft and warm, he had no doubt you would be absolutely delectable but he was far far too selfish to let you go.

His hips nudged into your own, unable to keep himself from seeking out the warmth of your core. “H-Hannibal?” Your eyes were barely open but they were dark with lust, almost as if you had been expecting him like this.

“I am sorry to have woken you my flower but you were far too alluring for me to just walk away.” He returned to your neck, now licking at your slightly salty skin. 

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, your hips canting upwards, bumping into his cock. You wrapped your arms around his muscular back, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. “Is this a dream?”

Hannibal planted his forearm by your head so he could guide your shapely leg over his waist. “If it is, I hope we never wake because I have lots I must do with you.” Your fingers tangled in his silvery hair, overcome with electricity in your veins.

“You have slept with your idiotic husband almost 400 times and I must scrub away his touch from your heavenly body.” 

“Should we get started then?” You asked coyly and Hannibal couldn’t help but oblige you.

Prompt: Imagine yandere Hannibal asking how often you and your husband have had sex during a therapy session, saying it might be making you unhappy. When the reason he asked was that he wanted to know how many times he was going to have to fuck you to make you forget about your husband

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[earthtoharlow]

Don’t Like The Lights

Sequel to Flashing Lights series, must read Flashing Lights first to understand

20. Blame On Me

Series Masterlist

Maryse sat in the cozy dimly lit room, hands clasped tightly in her lap. She glanced around, taking in the bookshelf filled with self-help titles and the calming artwork on the walls, but none of it settled the nervous energy bubbling inside her. This was her first therapy session, and although she knew she needed it, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she was out of place.

The therapist, a kind-eyed woman with a warm smile, sat across from her, pen and notepad in hand. “Take your time,” she said gently. “We don’t have to dive in right away. This space is for you, at your own pace.”

Maryse nodded, her throat tightening as she tried to find her voice. “I’m not really sure where to start,” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “I’ve never done this before.”

“That’s okay,” the therapist assured her. “Why don’t you tell me what brought you here today?”

Maryse hesitated, her fingers fiddling with the hem of her oversized sweatshirt. “Well… my partner—he suggested it,” she began. “He said I’ve been holding a lot in, especially after having the twins and, you know… the stalker incident last year.”

The therapist nodded, her expression encouraging but not intrusive. “It sounds like you’ve been through a lot. And it’s wonderful that you have someone in your life who cares so much about your well-being.”

A small smile tugged at Maryse’s lips. “He’s the best,” she said softly. “But… sometimes I feel like I’m letting everyone down if I’m not okay. Like I have to keep going, keep being strong, for him, for the kids, for my career.”

The words spilled out before she could stop them, and her voice cracked slightly at the end. She quickly looked away, blinking back the tears threatening to fall.

“It’s a lot to carry,” the therapist said gently. “But you don’t have to carry it all by yourself. That’s what this space is for—so you can let some of it out and start to heal.”

Maryse nodded, exhaling shakily as the weight of her emotions began to surface. For the first time in a long time, she felt like she didn’t have to hold it all together. It was terrifying but also a little freeing.

As the session went on, she found herself opening up more, sharing pieces of her struggles and fears. By the time it ended, she felt lighter—not completely, but enough to make her realize that this might actually help.

Maryse left her first therapy session feeling nervous but hopeful. The therapist had encouraged her to take small steps in opening up to the people closest to her, especially Jack. “Start with something specific,” her therapist had said. “Talk about your mom guilt. Let him in.”

Later that evening, Maryse found Jack in the living room, slouched on the couch, flipping through TV channels aimlessly. His posture alone told her he’d had a rough day.

“Hey,” she said softly, sitting beside him. “You okay?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples. “Not really. Studio was a mess today. Couldn’t get the sound right, producers kept switching things up, and I’m just over it.”

Maryse hesitated, the assignment from her therapist still fresh in her mind. She reached for his hand, trying to find the right moment. “I wanted to talk to you about something,” she started cautiously.

“Can it wait?” he muttered, not looking at her. “I’m not really in the mood for anything heavy right now.”

Her heart sank, but she pressed on, her voice a little firmer this time. “It’s important. I’ve been feeling… I don’t know, overwhelmed, I guess. Like I’m not doing enough for the twins, or that I’m not a good mom because I’m away sometimes.”

Jack sighed again, this time louder, and leaned back on the couch. “Babe, you’re overthinking it. The kids are fine. You’re fine. Can we just not do this right now?”

The dismissive tone stung more than she expected. She bit her lip, fighting back tears, and nodded silently. “Okay. I’ll let you relax,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, before standing and walking toward the twins’ room.

Once inside, she found herself pacing, frustration bubbling up. She didn’t want to push him on a bad day, but it hurt to feel like her emotions were being brushed aside. 

She spotted London lying in her crib, wide awake but quiet, her big eyes staring at the mobile above her. Maryse scooped her up gently, holding her close and peppering her with soft kisses.

“Hey, baby girl,” she whispered, her voice shaky as she tried to soothe herself through London. “At least you’re always here for me, huh?”

London cooed softly, her tiny hands reaching for Maryse’s face, and Maryse let out a weak laugh, the weight of her frustration still pressing down on her chest.

Over the next few days, Maryse barely spoke to Jack. She went about her routine, caring for the twins and avoiding him as much as possible. When he tried to initiate small talk, she responded with short, curt answers. Meanwhile, she started packing a bag for herself and the twins bit by bit, trying not to make it obvious but unable to fully hide her intentions.

It wasn’t until the third evening that Jack noticed her pulling baby clothes from the dresser into a tote bag. “Yo, what’s your problem?” he asked, standing in the doorway, arms crossed.

She paused, her back still to him, then turned around slowly. “My problem? My problem is that when I tried to talk to you about something important, you brushed me off like I was annoying you,” she snapped.

Jack frowned, running a hand down his face. “I didn’t brush you off. I just had a bad day! I’m doing my best here, but I’m not a mind reader, M. How am I supposed to know what you need if you don’t tell me?”

“You didn’t even try to listen!” she shot back, her voice rising. “I finally worked up the courage to talk to you about how I’ve been feeling, and you couldn’t even give me five minutes of your time. Instead, you made me feel like what I’m going through doesn’t matter.”

“That’s not fair,” he countered, his voice defensive but softer now. “You know I care about you and the kids. I’m just trying to juggle everything too.”

“Well, congratulations, you’re juggling so well you’ve managed to drop me,” she said bitterly. “So, until you figure out how to actually listen and care about what I’m saying, I’m taking the twins to my parents’ house.”

Jack’s eyes widened. “What? You’re overreacting—”

“Am I? Or am I just making sure I’m around people who actually notice when I’m drowning?” she interrupted. She zipped up the tote bag with a dramatic tug. 

She brushed past him, leaving him standing in stunned silence as she headed to the nursery to get the twins.

Maryse was in the nursery, gently dressing London while Noah sat in his bouncer, kicking his little feet. She moved methodically, her hands steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside her. Jack followed her into the room, his voice firm but not harsh.

“Maryse, stop,” he said, “We need to talk about this.”

Without looking at him, she adjusted London’s tiny socks and shook her head. “No, I tried talking. You didn’t want to hear me then, so why should I believe you want to hear me now?”

He sighed and pushed off the doorframe, taking a few steps closer. “I wasn’t in the right headspace that day. I know I messed up, but walking out with the kids isn’t the answer.”

She finally looked up at him, her eyes sharp. “You don’t get to decide what the answer is for me. You made it clear I was just another thing on your list of problems that day. I’m not going to beg you to care.”

Jack ran another hand through his hair in frustration. “You know I care. I’ve been here every step of the way, trying to support you and the twins. I’m not perfect, but I’m trying.”

“Trying?” she repeated, her voice bitter. “Trying would’ve been sitting down with me when I told you I was struggling instead of brushing me off. Trying would’ve been hearing me when I needed you instead of making excuses.”

He crouched down to her level as she adjusted London’s tiny jacket as she placed her in her car seat, his tone softening. “I hear you now, though. Don’t leave, please. Let’s just talk.”

But she stood up, moving to get Noah. “No, Jack. I don’t want to talk anymore. You didn’t listen when it mattered. I’ll be at my mom’s. Maybe you can use the quiet to figure out what you want to say.”

Her words hit him hard, and he knew there was no stopping her at that moment. As she buckled Noah in, she added quietly, “I’m not trying to punish you—I just can’t keep feeling like this in my own home.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, but said nothing as she lifted the car seats and walked past him. 

Jack eventually followed her to the front door, his voice sharper now, frustration bubbling over. “So that’s it? You’re just gonna take my kids and leave like this? You don’t think this is a little childish?”

Maryse spun around, her hand still gripping the car seat handle. Her eyes blazed as she snapped back, “They’re not just your kids, Jackman. They’re ours. And I’m doing what I think is best for my sanity and their well-being because clearly, staying here and feeling invisible isn’t working for me.”

“I feel like you’re trying to make me the bad guy.”

“You think this is about making you the bad guy?” she said, her voice trembling with anger and hurt. “This is about me needing to be heard, needing to feel like my feelings matter too. But every time I try, it’s like talking to a brick wall.”

He clenched his jaw, his hands on his hips, trying to steady his tone. “You don’t have to run to your mom’s house to make a point.”

She exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “This isn’t about making a point. This is about me feeling like I’m not drowning for once. And if I have to leave to get that, then so be it.”

As she opened the door, she turned back one last time, her voice quieter but no less firm. “I love you.” knowing that he needed to hear her say it.

“I know.” Jack said and gave her a nod. Maryse sighed and with that, she stepped outside, the door closing behind her with a weight that lingered in the air.

***

Jack was lying on the couch, staring at the ceiling, the house unbearably quiet without Maryse and the twins. He hadn’t heard from her since she left, and guilt was slowly sinking in.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, and he grabbed it without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

Before he could say another word, his mom’s sharp voice cut through the line like a whip. “What the hell did you do, Jackman?”

He sat up straight, alarmed. “What? What are you talking about?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb with me,” she snapped. “Maryse called me crying—crying—and said she took my grandbabies to her mom’s house because she needed a break from you. A break from you, Jack! What did you do to her?”

Jack groaned, running a hand down his face. “Ma, it’s not that simple—”

“Not that simple? Let me tell you what’s simple, boy,” she cut him off, her voice heated. “You’ve got a woman who gave you two beautiful babies, and she’s trying to handle being a mom while still figuring out her own stuff, and instead of supporting her, you’re pushing her away! That’s what’s simple!”

“I’m not pushing her away!” he protested, though the defensiveness in his tone wasn’t helping his case.

“Oh, really?” she fired back. “Because from what I’m hearing, you encouraged her to go to therapy, and now that she’s trying to open up to you, you’re shutting her down! What kind of sense does that make?”

Jack froze at that, the truth of her words hitting him like a punch to the gut. He didn’t have a response, and his mom took the silence as her cue to keep going.

“She’s already feeling guilty and overwhelmed, and she’s trying to do what you suggested—trying to talk—and you pushed her away. How do you think that makes her feel? How do you think it makes me feel, knowing my grandbabies are caught in the middle because their parents are too stubborn to figure this out?”

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, guilt hitting him full force. “Ma, I didn’t mean for it to get this bad. I just… I had a bad day, and I didn’t handle it right. She tried to talk to me, and I didn’t… I didn’t give her what she needed.”

“Well, no kidding!” she huffed. “You think this is some kind of game? Relationships take work, Jack. You need to fix this before it gets worse. And don’t just show up empty-handed either—bring some damn flowers, apologize, and for heaven’s sake, listen to her.”

“I will,” he muttered, feeling about two inches tall.

“You better,” she warned. “Because if you let that girl slip through your fingers, you’ll have me to answer to.”

“I hear you, Ma. I’ll fix it,” he promised.

“And don’t wait too long, you hear me?” she added, her tone softening slightly. “She loves you, Jack. Don’t forget that.”

“I won’t,” he said quietly.

As the call ended, he stared at his phone for a moment, already planning how to make things right. His mom was right—he’d been stubborn, but it was time to own up to his mistakes.

****

Maryse was sitting in the rocking chair in the kids nursery that her parents put together when they decided to move to Kentucky to be closer to their grandkids, gently swaying back and forth with London in her arms. The baby was fussing, her little face scrunched up as she whimpered and refused to settle.

“Come on, London,” Maryse whispered, her voice soft but tired. “Mama’s got you. Just close those pretty eyes for me.”

London, however, had other plans. She let out another fussy cry, her tiny hands grabbing at Maryse’s shirt in protest.

Maryse sighed, resting her head against the back of the chair. “You’re really going to make this hard for me, huh? Is this because Daddy’s not here to do the bedtime dance?”

She tried humming a lullaby, but London wasn’t having it. Maryse adjusted her hold, gently bouncing her daughter in hopes of soothing her. “I know you love when Daddy sings to you, but Mama can sing too, you know,” she said, her tone teasing despite her exhaustion.

Her mom peeked her head into the room, holding a warm bottle. “Still not down?”

“Nope,” Maryse replied, her voice tinged with frustration. “She’s got her daddy wrapped around her little finger, and now she won’t nap without him.”

Her mom chuckled softly, walking in to place the bottle on the dresser. “That girl does love her daddy, but you’ve got that same magic touch, sweetheart. You just have to find it again.”

Maryse gave a weak smile. “Yeah, but he’s the one who does all the silly voices and bounces her in that special way that makes her laugh first, then fall asleep.”

“Maybe you can FaceTime him,” her mom suggested, giving her a knowing look.

Maryse sighed, staring down at London, who was still fighting sleep like it was her personal mission. “If I call him now, it’s going to feel like admitting defeat,” she joked, but her tone was weary.

Her mom touched her shoulder gently. “It’s not defeat, honey. It’s teamwork. And I’m sure he’d love to see her anyway.”

After a moment, Maryse relented. She pulled out her phone and hit the video call button. When Jack’s face popped up on the screen, looking a little disheveled but concerned, she felt a wave of relief.

“Hey,” he said, noticing her tired expression right away. “What’s going on?”

Maryse turned the camera to London, who perked up the moment she saw her dad on the screen, her little arms reaching toward the phone.

“Well, somebody won’t take a nap because you’re not here to do the magic,” Maryse said, her voice softening.

Jack chuckled, his voice warm. “Oh, is that right, London? You giving Mama a hard time?”

London babbled happily, her fussiness forgotten as she watched her dad’s face. Maryse rolled her eyes but couldn’t help smiling.

“Okay, okay,” Jack said. “Put the phone near her ear. Let me do my thing.”

As Maryse held the phone near London’s ear, Jack’s soft singing worked its magic. London’s little body finally relaxed, her eyes fluttering shut.

“Unbelievable,” Maryse muttered, more to herself than to him, as she gently laid London down in the crib.

Jack smiled at the screen. “Told you I had the magic touch,” he said playfully.

Maryse just shrugged, keeping her face neutral. “Guess so,” she replied, her tone flat. She didn’t even glance at the screen as she adjusted the baby blanket.

Jack frowned slightly, sensing her mood but deciding not to push. “You, uh… you coming home tonight?” he asked cautiously.

Maryse didn’t look up from where she was now tidying the nursery, giving a small shake of her head.

“No,” she said simply, her voice devoid of any emotion.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck, his voice softening. “Alright. Well, I love you.”

She paused for a split second, her hand hovering over London’s crib, then straightened up. “I know,” she said coolly, not meeting his eyes through the screen.

Before he could respond, she ended the call, setting the phone down on the dresser without another word.

Jack stared at the now-black screen in disbelief, letting out a long, frustrated sigh. For the first time, the weight of the distance between them felt heavier than ever.

Her mom had been standing just outside the nursery door, rocking Noah gently in her arms. She heard every word of the conversation and watched as Maryse stared at the blank phone screen with a clenched jaw.

“Baby,” her mom said softly, stepping into the room, “you need to go home and talk to him.”

Maryse sighed, shaking her head as she grabbed London’s pacifier from the dresser. “Why, Mom? When I wanted to talk, he didn’t want to listen,” she said bitterly, her tone sharp.

Her mom didn’t let her finish. “Stop it right there,” she said firmly, giving her daughter a knowing look. “Your father and I raised you better than this, and you know it. You’re upset, and you have every right to be, but shutting down like this isn’t the answer. You two are in a partnership. That man loves you, and I know you love him. You don’t fix things by running away every time it gets hard.”

Maryse crossed her arms defensively but didn’t respond, her mom’s words hitting too close to home.

Her mom continued, her voice softening. “He’s not perfect, and neither are you. But he’s trying. Don’t let your pride ruin something good. Those babies deserve two parents who work through their problems, not run from them.”

Maryse swallowed hard, her eyes darting toward London’s crib. Her mom placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “You’ve been through so much, and I know it’s not easy. But don’t shut him out just because he didn’t respond the way you wanted the first time. Go home. Sit down. Talk to him like the woman I raised you to be.”

Maryse blinked back tears, her mom’s words sinking in, but she still hesitated. “What if he doesn’t understand, Mom? What if he doesn’t get it?”

Her mom smiled softly. “Then you explain it to him until he does. Relationships aren’t about who’s right or wrong. It’s about making the choice to try every single day. You’re stronger than this, baby. Go home.”

“I’ll think about it.” Maryse said with a sigh before turning to leave the room and head towards the bathroom to shower for the night. 

***

The next morning, Maryse’s mom was up earlier than usual, enjoying her coffee in the quiet of the kitchen, when the doorbell rang. She frowned, not expecting anyone, and pulled out her phone to check the ring camera.

There he was—Jack, standing on her porch in a hoodie, hands stuffed into his pockets, rocking nervously on his heels.

Her jaw dropped when she noticed the rest of the scene: the entire porch was covered in roses. Bouquets of every size, from deep crimson to soft pink, crowded every inch of space, leaving barely enough room for him to stand.

She sighed, setting her coffee down with a muttered, “Lord have mercy.”

Opening the door just enough to poke her head out, she raised an eyebrow. “Well, if it isn’t Mr. Big Gesture himself.”

Jack looked up, giving a sheepish smile. “Morning, Ms. Monet. I, uh… I came to apologize.”

Her gaze flicked to the mountain of flowers spilling onto her porch. “And…all this?”

He shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I wanted to show her I’m serious. I messed up, and I need her to know I’m sorry.”

She looked him over for a moment before stepping out onto the porch, pulling the door shut behind her. “You can wait right here,” she said firmly.

“Outside?”

She folded her arms. “Yes, outside. If she wants to talk to you, she’ll come out. But I’m not letting you barge in here and force her into anything.”

Jack nodded, swallowing hard. “That’s fair.”

She softened just a bit, adding, “And for the record? Big gestures are cute, but they don’t fix everything, son. You’ve got to do better than flowers.”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I’m ready to.”

“Good,” she said, turning back toward the door. “Now sit tight. I’ll go let her know you’re here.”

He watched her go, left standing on the porch surrounded by roses, the morning air cool against his skin as he rehearsed everything he wanted to say.

Her mom walked into the nursery where Maryse was playing on the floor with Noah. Arms crossed. “He’s outside. And he’s not leaving.”

Maryse frowned, glancing up from where she sat with Noah in her lap. “What do you mean, he’s outside?”

Her mom sighed and gestured toward the front door. “Check the camera.”

Reluctantly, Maryse picked up her phone and opened the app, her heart sinking as she saw Jack standing there. He looked nervous, hands shoved into his jacket pockets, shifting his weight from foot to foot. She hated how good he looked, even when he was clearly stressed out.

She chewed on her bottom lip for a moment before deciding to press the intercom button on the camera. “What do you want?” her voice came through the speaker, flat and guarded.

Jack immediately perked up, looking straight at the camera. “Baby, can we talk? Please?”

Maryse tilted her head, her tone remaining cool. “Didn’t you say I was acting childish? Maybe I’m still too busy being childish to talk.”

He exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down his face. “Okay, I deserve that. But I’m not here to argue. I’m here to apologize. Can we please talk? Face to face?”

She crossed her arms and leaned back on the couch, debating her next move. “You seem fine talking to me through the camera.”

Jack chuckled softly, though it was tinged with frustration. “You’re really gonna make me work for this, huh?”

Maryse smirked faintly but kept her voice steady. “You tell me, Mr. Mind Reader.”

Jack sighed again, looking directly into the camera. “You’re right, I messed up. But I miss you and the kids so much it hurts. Please, just give me a chance to fix this.”

Her mom, watching from the doorway, gave her an expectant look. Maryse hesitated, then sighed, standing up. “Stay there,” she said into the camera.

As she walked toward the door, her heart pounded in her chest. She wasn’t ready to let him off the hook completely, but seeing him out there, looking like a lovesick puppy, was softening her resolve.

Maryse unlocked the door and pulled it open, expecting to see just Jack standing there. Her breath hitched when she saw what was behind him.

The entire front porch was filled with roses—dozens upon dozens of bouquets in every shade of red, pink, and white. They spilled down the steps, clustered around the railing, and even lined the walkway.

“Are you serious?” she asked, blinking in disbelief.

Jack gave her a sheepish smile, hands still shoved in his pockets. “I figured one bouquet wasn’t gonna cut it.”

She looked from him to the sea of roses, her lips parting in surprise. “This is… a lot,” she admitted, though she couldn’t hide the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

He took a cautious step forward, his voice soft. “I meant it when I said I’d do whatever it takes to make this right. I just… I love you, and I hate that I made you feel like I didn’t care.”

Maryse’s fingers tightened around the edge of the door as she fought the lump rising in her throat. She wanted to stay mad, but seeing him standing there, nervous and vulnerable, surrounded by roses, made it nearly impossible.

Maryse sat down on the porch reluctantly, trying her hardest to look unimpressed as the sea of roses surrounded her. She crossed her arms and gave him a pointed look. “You know, this doesn’t change anything. You’re still not forgiven.”

Jack, standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets, smirked just slightly. “But… these are your favorite flowers,” he teased, his voice soft but cocky, like he already knew the answer.

She rolled her eyes dramatically, though the corner of her mouth twitched as if fighting a smile. “So? That doesn’t mean you’re off the hook.”

He nodded, taking a small step closer and dropping the smirk. “I know,” he said quietly. “I’m not here just to sweet-talk my way out of this.” He crouched down in front of her, resting his forearms on his knees so they were face-to-face. “I’m here because I messed up, and I need to own that.”

Maryse glanced away, her walls still up. “You’re right. You did.”

“I didn’t mean to make you feel like your feelings didn’t matter,” he continued, his voice earnest now. “I hate that I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me, especially when I wanted you to. I just… I don’t know. Sometimes I look at you, and I see how you just do it. You’re this incredible mom. The twins love you. They’re obsessed with you. And sometimes, I feel like you’ve got it all figured out, and I’m just trying to keep up.”

Her eyes flicked back to him, her expression softening slightly.

“And instead of saying that… instead of listening to you, I pushed you away like an idiot,” he added, his voice quieter now. “But you were right. You tried to talk to me, and I didn’t listen. And I’m sorry, babe. You’re the best mom those babies could ever have, and you don’t have to carry all of this alone. I want to be better at showing you that.”

Maryse sighed softly, looking at him for a moment as he sat there waiting, his eyes full of guilt but also hope. “You really feel like you’re just ‘keeping up’?” she asked, her tone gentler now.

Jack nodded, brushing a hand through his hair. “Yeah. All the time.”

Her lips finally quirked into the faintest smile. “Well, you’re doing better than you think, even when you’re being an idiot.”

He smirked, relief washing over his face as he straightened up. “So, you’re saying there’s hope for me?”

Maryse exhaled, giving him a small eye roll but with a smile this time. “Maybe.”

Jack grinned, pulling her up from the seat on the porch, keeping his hands lightly on her waist. “I’ll take ‘maybe.’ It’s better than ‘get off my porch.’”

She let him pull her close, though she kept her voice stubborn. “Still not forgiven.”

“Okay,” he said softly, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll keep working on it. Just don’t make me bring more flowers. I don’t think there’s any left in Kentucky.”

Maryse couldn’t help but laugh, punching him lightly in the arm. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Ow!” he yelped, clutching his arm and pretending it actually hurt.

“Stop being such a baby,” she said, rolling her eyes, though her smile betrayed her.

He dropped the act and looked at her seriously, his voice soft. “But for real… are you coming home now? I really miss you. I miss the kids, too.”

Her teasing expression faltered, replaced by something softer. “You miss me?”

“Like crazy,” he admitted. “The house doesn’t feel right without you.”

She looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I miss you too,” she finally whispered.

“So… what do you say? Come home?” he asked, reaching out to gently take her hand in his.

She sighed, trying to act like she wasn’t already planning to say yes. “I guess so.”

Jack grinned, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Good. Because I don’t think I could’ve handled another night without you.”

Maryse gave him a small smile and squeezed his hand. “Let’s go home.”

***

AN: tell me your thotssss

Tag List

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[dtrghost]

closeness and proximity part.6

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: fluff, some angst, ooc simon, virgin! reader, 18+ smut, cunnilingus, piv, praise kink, this a softer smut, degrading terms are still gonna be used but in a praising way because i think after everything that's happened her first time shouldn't be too much, he still gets rough though. size kink, overstimulation!receiving, some masochism!receiving on simon's behalf, some sub!ghost, cursing.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count:

The last half a year wasn't as bad as she thought it'd be. Turns out she wasn't a sociopath, she had some tendencies sure, but in reality she was just broken from years of unresolved trauma. She had a long way to go, but according to the reports sent to HQ by her therapist, Ms. Maeve Riva, she was making excellent progress.

Price moved out halfway through her leave, and at first she was happy about it, the flat was a lot cleaner, quieter, she had more space for herself and she could decorate it in peace without hearing him grumble about how feminine her decor was.

But she got lonely within a week, and adding on the depression from reliving her worst traumatic experiences, she'd end up calling someone to talk to, which was more often than not, Price. She trusted him enough for that, and she knew he wouldn't tell the team. She wanted them to think she was getting better, and in a lot of ways she was, but some aspects of recovery couldn't be helped.

It was the last day before she was officially off leave and back on call, and she wanted to make it memorable. She sat down in her usual spot in front of Maeve who smiled warmly at her.

"Last day! I brought.." She pulled out two half liter bottles of cherry coke, handing one to her with a cheeky look in her eyes.

"These, to celebrate you! Look how far you've come!" Her therapist gushed emotionally. She chuckled, cracking it open and taking a sip. She sighed at the burn of the carbonation as it slide down to her stomach.

"Thank you Maeve. Couldn't have done it without you and you're weird obsession with tea." Maeve rolled her eyes, snickering as she took a swig from her bottle. Normally she'd do this with alcohol, but knowing her client it was best not to.

"So what's on the agenda for today. Party your heart out, one night stand." She hummed, shrugging her shoulders.

"I was actually gonna call a friend of mine."

"Oooooo one night stand with a friend then. Those are always interesting." She laughed and looked at her incredulously.

"No no no just for some time to reconnect. I'm getting tired of being alone all the time." Maeve nodded, tilting her bottle towards her in agreement.

"Who's this friend of yours? Are they hot?"

"Name's classified, but damn straight he's hot. Shit. I wanted to climb him like a tree when we first met." Her eyebrows shot up in surprise.

"Alright then. So have you asked him out yet?" She sighed, leaning back on the couch.

"Nope. Don't even know where he is right about now. Haven't tried to call in the last 6 months either."

"And why is that?" Here the therapy session truly started.

"About 2 weeks before I was put on leave we had an.. altercation. Meaning a knife to my neck and some hurtful words. He apologized, we moved on, but a part of me still feels like what he said was true." She knew what she was referring to, and she leaned forward and put her hand on her knee gently.

"You then and you now are two very different people. Yes your occupation requires more, gruesome methods of getting information out of people, but you feel remorse, you do it out of necessity. You can't keep beating yourself up about it." Y/N nodded, looking down at her phone for a second in contemplation.

"Give him a call. I'll be here with you." Her eyes flickered to Maeve's, only seeing comfort and reassurance. She sighed, her tongue poking at the side of her cheek for a moment before she picked up her phone and looked in her notes. She'd asked Price for Simon's number before he left, and she saved it for when she got the courage to actually contact him. She took a deep breath, hitting the call button and listening to it ring in her ear.

"This is Ghost." Her heart was beating out her chest, the sound of his voice causing her eyes to water involuntarily. Maeve noticed the immediate panic in her eyes and reached over to squeeze her hand, gesturing her to respond. She couldn't hear the conversation, but she could tell by her facial expressions the idea of what was going on.

"Uh-, hey, it's Y/N." All the air left his lungs for a moment, his throat dry as he sat up from his bed. It was his off day, so he back at his flat, watching some old crime movie that he'd seen a while back and took a liking to.

"I just wanted to ask if you um, if you wanted to just ya know, hang out with me later. If you can." She hated how she sounded. Her voice was shaky and she was having a hard time getting the words out. The silence was killer, and it was because he was shocked. 6 months of no contact and suddenly she's asking him to dinner.

"...Yeah. Alright. Time?" Her eyes blew open, Maeve cheering her on as she forced herself to remain calm.

"Does 6:30 work for you? I know you prefer staying in so I can-"

"S'alright I'll come to you. I know where you live anyway."

"Oh alright." It went silent for a bit, and she shrugged at Maeve's curious look.

"...You doing alright then?" He asked quietly.

"Yeah. I'll tell you about it when I see. I don't have alcohol so if you plan to drink you'll have to bring your own. Oh, and no masks. Bye." She hung up quickly, taking a deep inhale as she looked at Maeve with wide eyes.

"So you have a date then."

"I guess so. He's coming to me... fuck." She realized she had no idea when he was going to show up.

"We can cut this one short. I got you covered." She thanked her, seeing it was 4 and she needed time to get ready. She rushed home, cleaning up before racing upstairs to change where she was suddenly at a loss. What the hell was she going to wear?

Simon was in no better situation either, staring at his closet that consisted of hoodies, cargo pants, black t-shirts, and mostly work attire. What did a hang out at her place constitute? Nothing formal surely, casual? He decided on a black t-shirt, jeans, and a pair of black shoes he had that weren't too worn out.

The idea of no masks surprised him, but he didn't care too much. They'd known each other for years and he'd been meaning to find a reason to show her his face, and seeing her own. Then realization struck him.

Did that mean she's not wearing one either?

He couldn't help the sudden bloom of excitement in his chest and stomach at the thought of it. He sprayed on his cologne and grabbed his keys before heading to his car. He had memorized the way there, having driven by sometimes to catch a quick glimpse at her as a way to check in.

She sighed, looking in the mirror at her final look, fear and overthinking plaguing her mind. She didn't wanna look like a bum in her own house, so she put on a nicer pair of clothes, which was really just an all black, long sleeve two piece. She looked comfortable but put together at the same time, even if she was anything but the latter.

What if she just called him and said something came up? What if he's already driving over here?

A knock on her door interrupted her thoughts, mentally cursing herself as she sprayed herself with her favorite perfume and scurried downstairs while adjusting her hair. With a deep breath, the door opened and her eyes blew open, and so did his.

Fuckin' hell. I'm not gonna make it through the night. He thought to himself.

Her mask was off, revealing her perfect nose, skin, and god those lips. They were just the right size, shiny with whatever lipgloss she was wearing. She flashed him a smile that took his breath away. Her outfit hugged her curves in sinful ways that made him swallow his drool before it had to chance to run out of his mouth.

He was just as hot, the way his clothes perfectly hugged him figure, showing off the slim of his waist and broad, bulky shoulders. His pants accentuated his muscular thighs, getting just that much tighter around them as he moved in them.

His jaw was chiseled, as if sculpted by the Gods themselves, his scars added depth to his face with plump lips and a look that would make anyone's drawls or panties fall off. She's surprised hers didn't.

"You look great."

"You look beautiful." They said at the same time, their cheeks beginning to burn.

"Thank you Simon. It's good to see you again."

"It's good to see you too Y/N, oh and I.. I brought these.. for you." He pulled out a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, her eyes lighting up in surprise as she hadn't noticed his arm behind his frame in the first place. They were gorgeous. White roses with stems of lavender to compliment them.

"Awwww thank you. These are beautiful." She smelled them, humming at the aroma.

"Do you mind if I put them in a vase really quick?" He shook his head, watching her shuffle back into the flat as he trailed behind her, shutting the door. He took his time looking around, nodding to himself as he was impressed at how well decorated it was. He left his fairly bare, the walls were gray and he'd only furnished it with the necessities. He watched her walk back into the room, bending down to put the flowers on the coffee table in front of the couches.

He almost groaned at how perfectly those pants hugged her legs, complimenting the shape of her ass as she adjusted the vase to be at the center of the table. Her hair fell off to the side beautifully, her velvet locks entrancing him as this was only the second time he'd seen it naturally. He forced himself to look away as she stood back up, smiling at them before shifting her gaze to him. She noticed that he didn't bring anything other than the flowers.

"Not drinking tonight?" He shook his head, dropping his keys onto the table.

"Alright, do you want anything else? Water, I have some coke."

"Coke's fine." She hummed, quickly grabbing two bottles from her fridge and coming back to see him getting himself comfortable on her couch.

"Here." She passed it to him before taking a seat next to him, crossing her leg over the other as she grabbed the remote to put on a movie.

Fuck, those thighs of hers.

He couldn't help but let his mind drift off for just a moment.

How good they'd look locked around his head as he ate her pretty little cunt out until she was begging for him to stop. How'd they feel against his body as he fucked her through the night. Their smoothness, how'd they be shaking by dawn.

"Simon, you okay?" Her voice dragged him out. She looked at him curiously as he snapped out of it suddenly, embarrassed.

"Penny for your thoughts?" She pressed, making him snicker to her surprise.

"I don't think we'd make it to the end of the movie if I told you that." Her jaw dropped for a moment, suddenly not sure how to comprehend his blatant statement as her thighs unconsciously pressed together.

"Don't do that." He commanded roughly, eyes flickering away from her legs and his hand squeezing the bottle in his hand a bit tighter. Suddenly she understood, and she couldn't help the grin stretching across her face making him roll his eyes.

"I know I know, I'm hot. Don't gotta tell me." She teased lightly, chuckling to herself.

"Don't get all cocky on me now. You were the one fantasizing about me while I was in the shower that one time." "Fuck yeah. Told my therapist about it too, she thought I should've shot my shot when I had the chance back then." He looked over to her for a brief moment, watching as she took in the look in his eyes before they flickered back to the screen.

"You could still shoot it." He suggested quietly, his cheeks burning red as he took another swig of his drink. He wished he'd brought the damn whiskey.

"Would I miss?" He huffed a small laugh at her uncertainty.

"You never miss." Her throat went dry, her eyes darting around the room in front of her before her hand reached out to the one he had on his thigh, grasping it in hers before resting it on the meat of hers.

She sighed lightly at the feeling of his hand squeezing her quads, her eyes shutting for a moment as she let her head fall back.

"Call it a miracle if we get to the credits Riley." He chuckled, his thumb stroking her clothed skin gently. They watched the movie in tense silence, their breathing a bit ragged in an attempt to not jump on each other.

"So, how's the team been?" She began, watching him shift in his spot.

"S'been good. Soap's still a shithead but what's new with that." He listened to her chuckle, missing the melody of it.

"Not surprising."

"How's therapy been? Honestly." He was looking for a genuine answer, turning his head and seeing her bite her inner cheek for a moment.

"It's been rough at times, but I guess I should've been expecting that." She avoided Simon's gaze for a bit while, feeling a bit odd talking about it. When she looked back up, she noticed his look focused on her neck.

Her hand reached up, feeling the unevenness in the area from the scar that was left after he pressed his knife against her neck.

"It's okay, forgot it was even there." She brushed off.

"No it's not." Every part of him regretted that, he never forgave himself.

"It was justified. I threatened you before that too. You were just scared, rightfully so." She had reached over to the other side of him, grasped his clenched fist and gently poking her fingers through the break it apart.

"Si, honey. Look at me." His eyes flickered to hers, his chest tightening at the tenderness looking back at him as she squeezed his hand. She was so close, he could smell her lovely perfume, one that made his head spin.

"I forgive you. Okay?" He hesitated, his hand slowly relaxing as hers slipped in, intertwining their fingers for a moment before she sat back. She noticed the dazed look on his face, his mouth slightly opened as his eyes flickered all over her body, from her face, to her waist, to her legs, and back up.

"So how long have you had a crush on me for."

"Oh fuckin' hell."

"What it's a fair question! I'll answer if you answer."

"I'm not answering that."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Why not?"

"Because it's a bloody stupid question that's why."

"No it's not! If we're gonna fuck then I should at least get to know how long you've been waiting." He sighed, pinching the bridge of his eyebrow and listening to her laugh.

"Well, hopefully not JUST fuck, but I'll take what I can get." She added on quietly, picking at her nails with a small smile on her lips.

"Since a few months after we met." He answered suddenly, looking back up at her. His stare was intense, as it always was, his amber eyes boring into hers.

"Yeah. About the same for me. I didn't understand it for a while until I went through therapy, a bit before that but I wasn't completely sure until I talked it out." He nodded.

"Thank you, by the way." She spoke up, her leg beginning to bob nervously.

"For?"

"Everything. Trying to help me when I didn't want it, coming back for me, fighting HQ for me. All that stuff."

"Of course I came back for you." She placed down her bottle with a shrug.

"I didn't think you would."

Sick, selfish bastard. I don't want something like that on my team.

Those words had stuck with her, and he could tell.

"Oh um, speaking of. We did this thing in therapy where I had to write a letter to the person I think I hurt the most and you were one of them. I was gonna mail it but I never found the courage. Can I just give it to you now?" His eyes widened for a moment, placing down his coke on the floor next to him and giving her a curt nod. She rushed upstairs, opening her drawer and taking out the singular letter she had kept, the rest already having been shipped out.

She stared at it for a moment. Was she ready to hand this to him? For him to read her thoughts and emotions during one of the most vulnerable times of her life? She could say she lost it, accidentally shipped it to the wrong address by mistake. She could've just wrote "sorry for being a prick my bad" and moved on, but she made it personal, emotional, she was pretty sure that there was a stain on it from a tear that had fallen as she wrote.

"Get lost?" Simon called out, noticing how long she'd been gone. She took a deep breath before going back down, staring down at it as she took a seat next to him. He could see her hesitance to hand it to him, her fingers tightly glued to the sides.

"Read it to me then." He offered, shifting his body to face her.

"I'm not sure if that'll be any better."

"I disagree. Go on. Take your time." She felt small in that moment, his intense gaze causing her hands to shake as her finger glided over the indents of his name written on the front. She turned it over, gently slipping her finger underneath the seal of the envelope and opening it, pulling out the letter.

"I tried to keep it short." She spoke, her heart pounding and her voice wavering. He nodded, though she likely didn't see it with how trained her eyes were on the letter. With a deep breath, she started, her voice being the only sound in the room as Simon paused the movie.

"Dear Simon, I dreaded writing your letter because of how personal it would be, but I managed to force myself to pick up my pen and put ink on the page. This letter has no goal, and my therapist told me it was supposed to make me feel better, but that isn't the case for this one."

She stopped for a moment, feeling her throat close up and tighten.

"Take your time lovie." He crooned softly, watching as her eyes darted around the page. She could do this, she thought to herself, clearing her throat and beginning again.

"We've known each other for a few years now, and at first I thought we'd be great friends. We were alike in some ways and even if some our conversations were painfully awkward, I looked forward to them. I was excited when I found out that I was being moved to team 141 because I'd see you again. I used to stay up sometimes and think about some bullshit future with you, where we'd live somewhere quiet together, getting old with a cat and a small garden in the back or whatever else I imagined. But then I actually got there."

She could feel the tears burning in her eyes. Simon didn't speak, instead he just continued to stare at her with a soft gaze, watching the emotions flicker in her eyes, like the candlelight he had seen all that time ago.

"I was confused. I didn't understand why I imagined these fantasies about us or why I wanted to be around you in the first place. I couldn't handle all of it at the time. I had done horrible things in front of you, tortured people in ways that now I can't stomach thinking about. There is no amount of money or apologies I can give to take my actions back, to bring those people back to life and figure out another way. And I did it because I'd seen it done before. I've watched the strongest of people break in Verdansk, and I replicated it because I knew it would work, and that's what matters right? That i got the job done."

Her voice had cracked, the tears that had once blurred her vision now streaming down her cheeks.

"I know that none of this is an excuse, and I won't ask for your forgiveness because I know that I don't deserve it. But I need you to know that I'm sorry, for hurting you, for scaring you, for failing you. Your face in that room is what I see when I close my eyes at night, consistently reliving it every chance of sleep that I get. You tried to save me and I didn't let you, and I'll always regret that. You words stuck with me, and I promise that I will spend the rest of my life trying to make amends with myself and everyone else I've hurt. If you've gotten this far, thank you for reading, and for what it's worth, if anything, I'm truly sorry for what I've done to you.

Yours wholeheartedly,

-Y/N L/N."

He watched as she covered her face with the paper to try and hide her sobs, even though her body shook and convulsed lightly as she cried. His body moved before his mind did, getting up silently. She thought he was leaving, and she was okay with that.

"Hey, look at me." He cooed softly, gently taking the paper from her tight grip and placing it on the table behind him. Her eyes flickered to his, her cheeks red and puffy in his hands as he cupped her cheeks.

"I forgive you, Y/N." His voice was calm, even. She shook her head, her hands coming up to her face to hide her tears, only for him to pull her arms away and intertwine their fingers.

"What I said was fucked up. It's not true. You're not sick, you're not selfish. Do you hear me?" The resolve in his eyes only made her feel worse. She wanted him to hate her, to scream in her face and rip up her letter, but here he was. On his knees in front of her and holding her hands, doing the opposite.

"You're all I want, and you're all I'll need. I know that now, always have." He could still see the hesitance and disbelief in her wide range of emotions, so he did what he's been wanting to do for so long. His hands went back to her face, and with a gentle tug their lips met. It was almost too overwhelming, the sensations that flooded her senses soon overpowered her. She kissed back with the same fiery passion, sighing into his mouth as his hands dropped to her waist.

He rose, pushing her frame back into the couch, hovering over her. She was engulfed by him, he kissed her like it would be his last, pouring every ounce of his soul into hers, and she drank it gladly. She engraved the feeling of his soft lips on hers into her mind, feeling the roughness of his palms gliding under her top to feel her skin against his.

"Let me show you how much I need you lovie." He muttered against her lips, his eyes dark with lust, love, and desire.

"Let me take care of you."

Her throat when dry at his words as they sent shockwaves through her body, her thighs pressing together once more as heat gathered in the place she now needed him the most. With a single nod she was picked up in his arms, her legs wrapped around his middle as he began heading up the stairs to her room.

"Where." He followed her point to the right, pushing the door open with his hand and shutting it with his leg. His lips met hers again, moaning at the feeling of her hands combing through his hair. He tossed her onto the bed with a small umph, and she suddenly regretted wearing pants.

~ Oh we're switching to 2nd POV for this yall. Buckle up! Or should I say saddle up ;)))) ~

He settled himself between your legs, his hands squeezing the flesh of your plump ass as his lips hit yours, this time rougher and more needy.

"You ever done this before lovie?" He mumbled against your lips. Your breath hitched, your body tensing underneath his as you look away, embarrassed by your unspoken answer. He on the other hand, he loved it. His length grew impossibly harder at the idea of him being your first and your last.

He'd be damned to let you go again. You were it for him, it ended here, just you and him.

"Hey hey, look at me." Your eyes flickered to his, only to find fondness and excitement in his eyes as he rested his forehead against yours.

"It's alright love. I'm more than happy to be your first." He could feel you relax, his lips grazing over yours as he moved to your ear.

"I'll do it right yeah? I'll take my time with you, give it to you real nice and ruin you. You want that sweet thing? You want me to ruin you?" He could hear your uneven, shaky breaths as your legs pressed together, trying to relieve some of the pressure of your arousal. He groaned at the sight, of your small body under his and aching to be touched by his big, rough hands.

"Please Si." You whimpered, your eyes shiny with lust and need. He used his knee to push your legs open, his hand traveling down your body and cupping your hot sex. Your skin burned at him feeling how wet you were, the moisture pushing through your panties and just nearly to your pants.

"I know lovie. I got you, always have right?" You nodded vigorously, buckling your hips into his hand desperately for some friction. He hummed, pressing a sweet kiss on your lips before they traveled to your neck. You felt his tongue travel over your scar in a silent apology, one of likely many as his hand cupped your breast under your shirt. He loved how perfectly they fit in his hands, how soft and supple they were.

"How about we take some of these things off." His suggestion was more of an order, and you worked quick, pulling off your top and unclipping your bra as his knees sat on either side of your hips, watching with a raging hard on and sultry eyes.

"You're fucking beautiful love, so perfect for me." You felt vulnerable under his intense gaze, gripping the sheets to stop yourself from covering your chest. His head came down, swirling his tongue around your nipple as he teased and pinched the other one. Your breathy, soft moans were music to his ears, and they only grew louder as you felt him grind his clothed length against your core. He kissed and sucked, leaving marks all over chest to claim you as his.

"Simon" You whined, grabbing at his shirt, watching it ride a bit to showcase his lower back. With a smirk he lifted himself up for a moment, slowly peeling off his shirt as if he were giving you a show before tossing it somewhere in the room. Your hands began to roam, and he watched as you became entranced by him, your fingers delicately tracing his scars and running over his muscles.

You shivered, feeling his finger gliding underneath the waistband of your pants. You watched as he got off of you, sinking down to his knees as he began to slide them and your panties off of your legs. With a grip of your thighs he yanked you closer, amused by your small yelp as he examined your wet cunt.

Were you okay down there? Your thoughts began to race as he sat in silence.

"You... are a fucking goddess." His words caused you to gasp lightly, his hands pushing at your now arched legs to open them wider for him. You exhaled shakily at the feeling of him kissing and nipping at your inner thighs, leaving more marks he'd probably reencounter soon.

He was addicted to you already, fuck knows how many times he'll be in your room on base, doing just this.

He gripped your hips, cementing you in place before he licked a strip from your hole to your clit, listening to you moan as your head fell back against the bed.

"Eyes on me lovie. Want you to watch me eat this delicious fucking pussy." Once your eyes met his, he began eating you out like a starved man who had been deprived of a good meal for months. Your hands landed on his head in shock by his vigor and need as you moaned his name. He hummed, the vibrations adding to the hot pleasure that was coursing through your body as his tongue swirled around your clit.

"Fuck this is the best pussy I've ever had." He growled, his tongue entering your hole as he fucked you expertly. He forced himself to not thrust his hips into the bed for some relief, focusing all of his efforts into this moment. You moaned his name as you approached your orgasm, his eyes shooting up to look at you as he almost came from the way you said it. You felt his fingers replace his tongue, grinning at you as two slipped into easily.

"Gotta get this pretty cunt ready for me lovie." When his mouth attached to your clit and his fingers moved inside you, you saw stars, your hand gripped his free one that pressed flat of your lower stomach.

"Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking fingers." He instructed. He felt you clench down on his fingers, your head thrown back in ecstasy as your orgasm rocked you. He continued his motions until your whined, pushing at his head to get him off for a moment.

"You taste amazing, fuck I could do that for hours." He came up, pressing his lips against yours and shoving his tongue in your mouth, letting you taste your euphoria. You tugged on the belt loop of his jeans, feeling his chest vibrate against yours as he chuckled. He stood back up, your eyes trained on his body as he undid his button, letting his jeans drop.

Your eyes blew open, a sudden fear striking your heart. He was massive, his tip red in agony from the lack of attention.

"Si... that's not gonna fit." You told him. He brushed it off, stepping out of his pants and returning to his position, hovering over you.

"I'll make it fit. Don't worry." Shivers ran up your spine at his deep, raspy promise to you. You reached down, gathering some of your slick and beginning to slide your hand up and down his cock. his head hung for a moment, moaning your name softly. You sped up for a brief moment, only for him to yank your hand away with a shake of his head.

"This is about you love. Just do me a favor and say my name all pretty like you did earlier while I fuck you." You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck as he grabbed the base of his dick, slowly pressing himself into you with a quiet groan in your ear. You felt yourself stretching to accommodate his size, your eyes flickering down to watch as he slowly disappeared into your sopping cunt.

He bottomed out with a moan, looking down at you.

"Any pain pretty?" Your cheeks burned at the pet name, shaking your head as he shifted your hips to get comfortable, listening to him hiss at the movement. He gives you a moment to adjust, and with your signal of buckling your hips into him for friction, he began thrusting into you. His pace was slow, following through with his promise to take his time with you as he memorized the feeling of your pussy clamped around him, hot and wet and needy for him to fill you up.

You soon began moaning loudly, still sensitive from his tongue as your nails pressed into his back.

"You're taking me so well Y/N, swear your pussy was made just for my cock." He grabbed your chin, forcing you to look him in the eyes as he fucked you.

"You were made for me love, made to be fucked like the pretty fuck toy you are." Your mind was sent into cloud 9, the feeling of his hips driving into you with purpose and need sending you over the edge.

"Oh fuck si right there!" He knew just how to fuck you, his length hitting the spot he knew would make you see stars, spots that had never been touched or stimulated in your life until now. He grunted at the feeling of your squeezing him again, kissing and sucking your neck as he pounded into you faster.

"Oh f-fuck yeah. Pussy feels amazing, so fucking good for me Y/N. I can feel myself, right here love" He took your hand and used his to push yours down on your lower stomach, feeling him fuck you with rhythm.

You were the best he'd ever had, and the best he'll ever have. No one could compare to you, nobody could moan his name like you could, make him feel good like you could. He was yours now, and he intended to let everyone, including yourself know that. The pleasure soon grew to be overwhelming, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades and making him shudder and whine into your ear.

"Fuck, do that again lovie. Mark me. Give me something to show off and let em know I belong to you." And you did just that. You left deep, red scratch marks on his back, kissing and nipping at his neck and his chest, leaving dark marks that he could flaunt later. His praises never stopped, him talking you through every orgasm you had and quickly slipping his cock back in when one had forced him out. He had no filter now, saying anything he wanted, which consisted of the filthiest words you'd ever hear him speak, and each time it would bring you and him that much closer to the never ending ecstasy you found in each other.

"S-Si I can't." You cried, tears rushing down your face as you pushed at his chest, the pleasure mixing with pain as your legs shook against his torso.

"One more for me. I'm so close lovie." Your want for him to cum was more than enough to help you persevere, his thumb coming down to rub your clit as he felt his orgasm approach.

"Where do you want me my love." He groaned, looking down at your fucked out face with his hooded eyes.

"In me. Please fill me up Si." You begged, your doe eyes big and watery. He let out a dirty moan you'd have to get out of him again later when you were able to move again as he let your legs down, fucking you fast in missionary, your legs locked around his middle.

"You want me to breed you huh. Dirty little girl, I'll give it to you. Fill that tight pussy up, you'll be full of me every day, walking around with my seed running down those pretty thighs of yours." His words sent both of you into a euphoria, your cum mixing together as he shot his load into you, your pussy having a vice grip around him as he shuddered. He managed to fuck you through yours, only stopping when you had begged him to with your pretty voice.

"Shhhh. I'll take care of you Y/N. Just trust me." He cooed in your ear, slowly pulling out of you and hearing you whimper from the loss of connection. He picked you up, bringing you to the shower that you lazily directed him to. He ran a bath, noticing how you were unable to stand up without his help. He scrubbed you clean, leaving loving kisses on your delicate skin, feeling you shiver as his tongue swirled over a few love bites he made.

When you were all clean he dried you off and helped you get dressed. You sent him to shower and managed to keep yourself up enough to grab some old clothes Price left behind that you cleaned and left in your drawer for whenever he came back for them, which was never. You laid on the bed, your eyes closing from exhaustion as you curled into yourself under your comforter, missing Simon's warmth and body heat. You were asleep by the time he got out, throwing his clothes into your laundry hamper and slipping into bed next to you, bringing your body flush against his.

"Goodnight lovie." He soothed, brushing your hair back and pressing a slow, loving kiss on your forehead before falling asleep with you, happy and content to have you in his arms.

That night was the first in 6 months where you slept through the night, no nightmares to plague your mind, no loneliness to keep you up in tears. You were in his arms, full of his love in every way, your closeness and proximity being the last identifier you needed to believe that life would get better.

And it would, you both knew it.

And that's it people!! It was my first time writing smut to be published so bear with me if it's bad. I might write a follow up chapter to this series but this is what I'll consider to be the last part! Thank you so much for your love and support and if you have an ideas for the next series, any hcs, preferences, smut etc let me know!

@thaprilks @bowtruckleninja @almightywdm @niallcozidonthavebettername @gothgirl6-6-6

[frozenchihuahua]

Christmas miracle! I finally added it wohoo ;_;

Chapter 2 - Battleships

The week flew by in a blur, and Friday afternoon found Simon once again standing outside Y/N’s office. Despite the passage of days, his mood hadn’t improved much since their first session. Though his hostility had lightly dulled, therapy still felt like a necessary evil rather than something helpful.

The door was slightly ajar, revealing woman seated on a couch inside, a folder of papers in her lap. She seemed lost in thought as she flipped through the pages.

Simon pushed the door open with a sour smirk under mask. “On time today, huh? Guess miracles do happen.”

She glanced up and met his teasing tone with a warm smile. “It’s not a habit of mine to be late.” she said, setting the folder aside. “Last time was an unwanted exception, and trust me, i avoid exceptions. They tend to…poorly.”

Simon’s brow lifted in mild intrigue, though he masked it with a nonchalant shrug. “End poorly?” he echoed, lowering himself into the chair opposite her.

She chuckled lightly, her tone playful. “Oh, nothing you need to worry about. Let’s just say punctuality saves lives. But enough about that, let’s dive into today’s session.” She gestured toward the table between them, where a sheet of paper and a couple of pencils lay in wait.

Simon followed her gesture and frowned. “What’s this supposed to be?”

She clasps her hands. “Today, we’re playing a game.” she announced with a sincere grin.

He blinked at her, incredulous. “A game? You’re fucking kidding me?”

“Therapy takes many forms” Y/N countered, folding her hands casually in her lap. “This time, it’s Battleship. Think of it as strategy practice, for the mind, of course.”

Simon leaned back, skepticism etched into every line of his face. “And how’s playing a game going to fix my mental health?”

Her smile deepened, her voice softening slightly. “Now it’s not about fixing you. You’ve had a rough week. Today, we’re taking the pressure off, no deep dives into feelings, no forced conversations. Just a bit of a active reset.”

He crossed his arms, his stoicism firmly in place. “And if I decide not to play?”

She tilted her head, her eyes gleaming with a teasing edge. “Then you can always tell me about your feelings instead, you have a choice.” She makes blunt remark with a wink.

Despite himself, Simon smirked, shaking his head. “Alright, fine,” he muttered, grabbing a pencil. “Let’s play your damn game.”

As the game start, Simon played with an air of indifference, his pencil scratching over the paper with a mix of frustration and slow resignation. Y/N matched his pace in game, but her demeanor calm and composed, though her warm smile didn’t waver. Every so often, Simon’s frustration slipped through in the form of sharp remarks.

“So, this is therapy now? Drawing grids and guessing coordinates? You sure i didn’t walk into the wrong room?” he said, his tone laced with sarcasm as he marked a miss on his side of the grid.

Y/N chuckled softly, not rising to his bait. “It’s strategic thinking, stress relief, and maybe even a little fun, though you seem determined to avoid that last part.”

“Fun?” Simon snorted, glancing at her briefly before looking back down at the grid. “Yeah, nothing says fun like pretending we don't waste time while i get lectured by a therapist.”

She raised an eyebrow, unfazed. “Who’s lecturing? I’m just sinking your battleship.”

Simon’s jaw twitched as he glanced at his paper. “You didn’t sink it yet.”

“Not yet” she agreed with a teasing grin. “But I’m getting close. B4.”

He grumbled under his breath, marking another hit. “Lucky guess.”

“Sure” she replied lightly, though her tone hinted at a playful challenge. “It’s all luck.”

They played on in a strange rhythm, Y/N’s calm, measured demeanor met with Simon’s clipped retorts and occasional cutting remarks. Every now and then, she’d glance up from her paper, her warm gaze briefly meeting his stormy one. He always looked away first, a flicker of discomfort crossing his masked face.

“How’s your week been, aside from tolerating this?” she asked casually as she marked a miss on her side.

Simon shrugged, not looking up. “Same as always.”

“And always is…?”

“Busy.” he replied shortly, his tone making it clear he wasn’t interested in elaborating. “F7.”

“Miss.” she said, jotting it down. “Busy can be good, though. Keeps the mind occupied.”

“Yeah, because that’s what I need, more distractions.” Simon muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness.

Y/N paused for a moment, her pencil hovering over the grid. “Distractions can be a double edged sword” she said carefully. “Sometimes they help, sometimes they just delay things.”

Simon snorted, a bitter edge to his laugh. “And you think this game isn’t a distraction?”

She met his gaze steadily. “Yeah it is, for steam off. Sometimes, a little distraction is the first step toward lowering the walls. We won't get anywhere if there's tension between us.”

Simon didn’t respond, turning his attention back to the grid. He called out another coordinate, his tone brusque. “C3.”

She marked a hit, her smile faint but knowing. “Nice shot.”

The game ended with a narrow victory for Simon, though his triumph was muted by his reluctance to engage. As he leaned back, arms crossed, he studied Amalia for a moment, as if trying to figure her out.

“You really think this is going to work?” he asked suddenly, his voice low but pointed.

Woman gathered up the game sheets, her expression thoughtful. “I think it’s a good start.” she said simply. “And sometimes, that’s all we need.”

[ashleywool]

"I LOVED THAT SHOW"

I wore my How to Dance in Ohio hoodie to church today. It's Palm Sunday and we did our customary palm procession from Duffy Square into the building, which is nice and all except winter decided to come back and bite my skin off again...so that sweatshirt seemed like the best choice as warm enough for the weather + can fit under my choir robe + won't get swelteringly uncomfortable once we're inside at the service. It did the job. Truly the ultimate transition piece. Get yours today while supplies last.

At fellowship afterwards, someone from the congregation that I didn't know--she's only in NYC part of the year--pointed out my sweatshirt and said "I LOVED THAT SHOW!"

It took her a moment to recognize me (she initially confused me for Madison, which, yeah that happens, I'll never be mad about it), and we had a lovely chat about the show. And what I noticed after walking away was...the subject of autism, or me being autistic, didn't come up at all.

I love and cherish the advocacy aspect of my work on HTDIO. I love and cherish the opportunity it gave me to be the autistic representation I wished I'd had growing up. But I have to say, it was SO nice to have someone, a total stranger, talking about the show and loving the show independent of The Autism Part.

It was wonderful being part of discussions about diverse representation, and I will never turn down opportunities to eagerly participate in those conversations. But I really wanted us to stick around long enough that the "novelty" aspect of "autistic characters played by autistic actors" (or even "canonically nonbinary/genderqueer characters") would wear off sufficiently for more people, so they could focus on the story and the characters and the music and all the other things that make our show great irrespective of the Representation aspect.

I've had a ROUGH few weeks, y'all. Truthfully, I've been going through one of the worst depressive episodes of my life. Aside from the obvious grief factor and logistical stressors, it turns out that post-operative depression is absolutely a thing. While I'd like to think I'm cognitively and emotionally mature enough to handle this level of change, especially considering how lucky I am to have robust support systems in family, friends, and healthcare practitioners, my very autistic nervous system has had a difficult time letting the sympathetic part cooperate with the parasympathetic part. So I've been a ball of tension, exhaustion, and worst of all, that soul-sucking apathy where nothing seems enjoyable or interesting, but maybe it would be if I had the energy to be interested.

It's helped to find a great physical therapy clinic that is giving me comprehensive, multi-pronged care and NOT charging me copays (because apparently my insurance pays them excellently--thank you, Equity-League and Cigna). It's helped that I got back in touch with a therapist I had seen years ago on BetterHelp (she's since left the platform and honestly, GOOD FOR HER). It's helped that I have parents with the means to help me out financially--and, crucially, the means to keep me accountable without resorting to pressure and guilt-tripping. It's helped to still live in a city where financial assistance isn't excruciatingly hard to come by if all else fails (at least compared to other states). It's helped to have agents submitting me for tons of exciting projects, and having several cabarets and readings to look forward to in this time of transition. It's helped to have a really chill, supportive church community keeping me spiritually grounded without buying into the yt American evangelical toxicity. It's helped to have my cats.

But sometimes, what makes me the happiest of all, is hearing "I LOVED THAT SHOW!"

I'll never not be proud to be known for How to Dance in Ohio and everything we stood for. I'm proud that the love was real, and the quality of the material reflected and reverberated that love. I'm proud of the representation aspect, and I'm proud that it wasn't just about that. And people who saw it, saw all of that.

It's so comforting to know that we shared this show with enough people that it's going to continue to matter.

People aren't going to forget.

I love that for us.

By the way, it was too cold to really show it off, but this is the shirt I wore underneath the sweatshirt. :)

[bitterspoons]

Dead Girl's Wish Oneshot

Pairing: Remus Lupin x Fem! Reader

Summary: Ever since you were little—you were different. So was Remus. You went to therapy together and you were perfect....He asked to marry you...Happily Ever After is dead

Flashbacks are in italics

Warning: Lots of Angst and Lots of Blood

No use of Y/n

Word Count: 1.9k

Your boyfriend, Remus said he had a surprise for you. He wanted to hang out in the gardens of Hogwarts.

You had a surprise for him too—just not a good one.

As you walked towards the Greenhouse—tears already building up in your eyes...you remembered why this had to happen in the first place.

You two met in therapy when you were eight.

***

“We thought it would be better if you had someone similar around you—it would be easier for you to progress.” Miss Kempe, the therapist explained. 

Little Remus rocked on his feet. “There’s another werewolf?” He asked excitedly, nibbling on a bar of chocolate. 

“Well…no but…you’ll see.” Miss Kempe stood up and opened the door. “C’mon sweetie, you can come in.” 

Slowly, a pale little girl trudged into the room. She was clutching onto her oversized cardigan for dear life as her long hair hid her face. Her dirty white sneakers entered the room and sat on the chair near Remus. 

“Okay—how about you two get to know each other while I talk to your parents?” She closed the door. 

“Hello!” Remus waved. 

“Hi…” She said back. “What’s your name?” She asked quietly. 

“I’m Remus! What’s yours?” 

You two introduced yourselves to each other for a while—getting to know each other a bit. 

“Can I see your face?” Remus inquired. 

But the little girl backed away a bit. “I don’t think you want to. It’s scary.” She warned. 

“People think my face is scary.” Remus insisted. “It’s because I have a scar—do you have a scar?”

“No—and your face isn’t scary.” The little girl said before turning away bashfully. “Your face is pretty.” 

“Please?” 

In a moment of confidence, the little girl tucked her hair behind her ears and looked at Remus nervously. 

Her skin was practically translucent, and around her diluted red eyes you could see colorful veins decorating her eyelids and cheeks. 

“I think you’re pretty.” Remis grinned. 

“Really?” She asked. “How’d you get that scar?” 

Remus scootched his chair closer. “Don’t tell anyone…but I’m a werewolf.” 

She gasped. “Really? Like you can turn into a wolf?” 

Remus nodded. “It hurts alot but I can! Once every months at a full moon!” He recited. 

She also looked around. “I have a secret too. I’m half zombie.” 

Remus’s eyes widened. “I never heard of that!”

“Nobody has! The doctors don’t know either. That's why I look like this.” She explained. 

“Does it hurt?”

The two kids spent 5 hours chatting about their ailments and other things and soon became best friends. 

The parents and Miss Kempe watched them from outside the door. “I think this arrangement will work nicely.” 

***

You weren't sure if that qualified as a meet-cute but either way—your love story had to come to an end.

After all, he didn't deserve you. How could he? Look at yourself.

***

Today was a particularly rough session where they were encouraged to talk about their biggest insecurity with each other while Miss Kempe was out of the room. 

The two tweens sat in silence. 

“I wish I looked like the girls in the magazines.” You blurted, staring at the pile of newspapers and magazines on the table. 

Remus nodded before looking down. “I wish I wasn’t dangerous.” 

You laughed. “Well clearly I’m an asshole.” You scoffed at yourself. “I’m only worried about myself for cosmetic reasons.” You picked at your nails, the conversation pitted again. 

This time, Remus started it. “I think I fear it because it means that nobody deserves to love me.” 

Your head shot back up. “Same…I would feel bad for the person who loved me.”

“Maybe we deserve each other.” Remus laughed and the two 11 year olds laughed off their pain. 

“You deserve someone a lot better than me.” You concluded—grabbing a caramel from the candy bowl. 

“Likewise.” Remus replied—sending them both into another fit of sad laughter. “Well then…” He grabbed one of the ring pops from the candy bowl. “Will you marry me?”

You laughed, taking another ring pop from the bowl. “Only if you marry me!” 

“Wonderful!” 

You spent the rest of the lesson talking about what Hogwarts would be like and eating enough candy to feed a village. 

***

But that isn't how today was going to end. You refuse to laugh this off and eat candy until you had a stomach ache—you were going to face this like a big girl.

You remembered how Remus asked you out two years ago.

You were at the Great Hall for dinner. Remus had been repetitively proposing his hand in marriage to you—each time you said no and that he deserved someone better than her.

***

Ignoring all the stares you got from your grade mates, you sat down to eat when a fortune cookie appeared on your plate.

"Why don't you go see what it says?" Remus asked, nudging it closer to you.

"Oh god, what did you do?" You tried hiding your face and moving as far away as you could as you opened the cookie. Nothing happened so you sat comfortably again before reading the message inside.

________________

Will you marry me? — Remus J Lupin

________________

"No, Remus. You deserve somebody better than me." Came your usual response. "How did you even manage this?"

"Please?" He begged.

You laughed—grabbing some lasagna onto your plate. "No!"

"Even with an itty-bitty cherry on top?"

"You know I don't like cherries."

Remus pouted. "But that's why it's itty-bitty!" He protested. "Marry me?"

"No."

He slouched "Fine how about helping me study next Sunday for divination?"

"Sure." You grabbed out a pen to do your homework—ignoring the crushed up paper balls that people were throwing at you.

"Is 9 okay?"

"Sure." You responded once again, catching one of the flying paper balls and unrolling it so you could write your potions essay on it.

"Can you also help me pick out an outfit?"

"Sure." You started focusing on your essay.

"After can I take you on a date?"

"Sure." You hadn't even realised hat you agreed to for a moment. You shot your head up. "What?"

"Well you already said yes." Remus grinned, stealing a bite of your lasagna.

"You cheeky little—"

***

You two had continued going on more dates until you two finally kissed under the Mistletoe at Honeydukes. You returned to Hogwarts as a couple.

You really wished you could stay together. You made such good memories over the years and you really wished you could stay Highschool sweethearts once you graduated from Hogwarts in a few days but...you didn't want to condemn Remus to living a life with you.

Everyday, you woke up and checked how dead you looked that day. How green were you, how colorful were your veins, were your ribs decaying again?

Everyday you watches as girls fawned over Remus, flirting with him and you couldn't help but wonder how they could look so pretty.

It looked right—Remus with a pretty girl by his side and yet he felt obligated to be your girlfriend.

You didn't want to torment him like this.

So as you met each other in the greenhouse—you two made small talk for a while.

Helping water flowers, you told Remus how excited you were to spend more time with your newborn brother, Teddy.

Remus told you how excited he was to live a life beyond school. He told you how nervous he was to live his life when a war was going on.

"I'm just worried about you, ya know? I'm worried about everyone. Lily, you—all our muggleborn friends... That's kind of why I wanted to talk to you. Ya know, live life while we can." Remus shuffled his feet as he blushed.

You didn't see the blushing—instead you saw the worry and dread on his face. You realised how selfish you had been—spending so much of Remus's time where he would be safe and free—the time he should've spent with prettier, and smarter girls.

So you turned to him and told him you wanted to break up. Plain and simple. It wasn't him, it was you and you were sorry.

Without seeing his reaction—you ran out of the greenhouse and apperrated home.

Remus stood there stunned as he clenched the small black box that was in his hand.

It was all a misunderstanding, wasn't it? They probably needed to talk it out and everything would be okay.

Wouldn't it?

He loved you ever since your first therapy session–he genuinely thought you were the most beautiful person ever—inside and out. (Quite more literally too.)

He had spent weeks building up the courage—too many pep talks from James and Peter and too much time picking out a ring with Sirius and Lily.

He wanted to give you space—maybe wait for the initial shock to blow over so he did.

The next day, he figured you went home already so he used the Floo network to get to your house.

It was dark inside your usually bright and lively household.

A house that was usually filled with laughing, yelling, scolding and giggles was reduced to silence.

"Hello?" His voice echoed in the house was he was not alone.

So he walked through the rooms of your house until he saw your parents and older sister in your living room.

Dead.

He saw a trail of blood leaving the living room and he started running.

As he followed the trail—it lead to your room and the amount of blood was getting increasing—he was leaving foot prints in it. The hem of his pants were swimming in it.

His running came to quick stop when he slipped and fell.

Groaning, he tried getting back up but stopped in his tracks as chills ran down his spine.

His eyes glances at his hands and his pants as he dusted himself off from the fall when he realised that he had slipped on blood.

His eyes trailed further in front of him and he saw your dead body in a giant pool of blood.

The same pool of blood he had slipped in.

He checked for your pulse and did CPR for a good half an hour until he broke down sobbing. Cradling your body— he looked out the window to see the Dark Mark in glowing traces.

He swiped his hair off his cheek—unknowingly smearing the blood from his hands onto his face.

He fumbled with the ring in his pocket and slipped it into your cold dead hand. "Will you marry me?" He wailed. "Please answer..."

But your dead body didn't answer.

He cried even harder, pounding his fist against the floor boards when he heard something.

A baby.

His eyes darted to your closet. He scrambled up and saw the bloodied hand prints on the doors as you had opened them in your final moments.

He carefully opened the door to your closet where he saw your baby brother Teddy crying in bloodied blankets.

Remus quickly took off the blanket and made sure Teddy wasn't injured to see that your baby brother was completely fine and the only one alive in your family.

You had sacrificed yourself to save Teddy.

Remus shed off his hoodie, getting Teddy out of the blood stained blankets and cooing him to sleep.

Remus started wailing again—seeing your cold smile against the dirty carpet.

He clutched your baby brother and apperated to where all his friends were waiting—waiting to celebrate the newly engaged couple.

Instead—they got a broken Remus and a baby Teddy and the start of a tragedy.

Because as each of his friends died.

He promised to take care of Teddy like his own son.

Your last wish.

[penumbrialhexandroga]

I put this in a discord chat im in but i wanted to put it here too. Today i got diagnosed by my therapist with c-ptsd.

Hhhh today is a day of surthriving. Had therapy this morning and was rough, but i was able to communicate some of my frustrations well. Got some clarification on stuff. Like he said forget about any of the schizophrenia stuff, i dont have it, so thats a relief. He said for a clinical dx i do have CPTSD. And that my episode that id had before when i started seeing him was a dissocaitive episode. So it was nice to get clarification on that i was thinking it was like a psychotic or manic or something but dissociative makes sense with what all went on. Ugh gah but then talked with a real young part and stuff coming up and just ugh fuck i hate. People. Just very heavy. Having things validated. But im so grateful for the coping mechanisms ive developed. Hhhhhhh fuck its just hard. Heavy heavy heavy. Just trying so hard to keep every thing contained so i can get through work. Thank god for Work Mode 🙏. Id been dxed with ptsd already but i did suspect it was cptsd but man having that validated by a therapist ugh i just feel like ive been taking punches and punching brick walls >.< idk i just wanted to express this all somewhere. "Put it out there"

Thats what i put in the chat earlier.

Idk i wanted to write about it i guess. He was saying too how like a diagnosis yknow its fluid it can change. Which im fully on board with i know it can only really be a snapshot of your current whatever experiences. But one thing i really appreciate about getting that dx and that validation and assurance is that it supplies me the language to tell my story. I realized that that was one issue that i had with how generally non-pathologizing my therapist is. Its also something i appreciate about him though, but i just felt like i couldnt really. Like not even tell my story but know my story. I felt lost and confused and uncertain about what my experience was and how i fit in with the world and people around me.

Who really am i? What defines me as an individual? It helps me answer these questions more fully. Not to say my diagnoses are all that i am or can capture the complexity of me as a being.

Its incredibly validating to do this work. I feel alive and autonomous in a way i never really have before. Some of the parts i work with are so so young. If i wasnt doing this work with a therapist i dont think i would really be able to do it. So im very grateful for my circumstances that allow me that. Although i can tell my therapist wants to do more frequent sessions, but it is expensive and insurance sucks so. Idk. Is what it is.

Ugh but this work also fucking sucks and makes things so so hard. But i know im better for it. Gahhahahshbsgdgdgdhd.

Oh man im also really glad too he labeled what that episode was. I was thinking it was a psychotic or manic and maybe i had bipolar, bc some of my family has been dxed with that. But no he said it was CPTSD. and a dissociative episode. Which man even just writing that out again its just. I cant even really identify how it makes me feel its just this kinda hmmm pressure?? Electrical flux? Along the back of my head.

Im grateful for being able to communicate better with my parts too. I was able to get across some things today that i havent been able to for a while and im glad things went well, even if it got tough. Really friggin tough. I know im moving in the right direction.

Id already been diagnosed with ptsd but that was through my psych who specialized in autism and idk it didnt really sink in. Its different now getting diagnosed by someone who knows me very well, ive been seeing him for like over two years now, so i have a lot of trust in his oppinion. But gosh so many raw nerves. Plus its c -ptsd which like, doesnt mean its worse than ptsd or anything lol some people seem to think that but thats more what i was suspecting. It just made more sense to me than standard ptsd with all the dissociation. But i feel really validated and seen and heard and hmm self assured even! Which is so rare for me. I feel like there was a lot of movement and change today. So this post is really just to commemorate it all. Getting diagnosed with cptsd tho, for me its very different than it was getting diagnosed with autism. Maybe thats because of meeting with that part right after tho :/

[ayosdesignz-blog]

Dear cacklers...We are gathered around this post today so that I: current self proclaimed kinkshamer; may share my observations of one villain Kraven of the Spiderman 2 game.

That man is too excited by the hunt.

Too interested in dying from the hunt.

I'm sitting there watching some game plays and having things explained to me by my little brother and as more time passes the more sus everything this dude's every action is.

Like I'm at the point where I feel like the guy needs to stop what he's doing to take a cold shower and maybe take like 5 (hours) to just fuckin chill out.

Cuz the man's a freak.

Like: super freak, super freaky🎵

And I'd personally recommend that he gets all the therapy. And if he DO got a therapist he clearly isn't paying them enough or needs a better one or BOTH!

When I tell you...the tension was bordering on sexual in most encounters...💅🏽

Too many small moments...and I admit that I might have been exaggerating for the lols a bit as my ✨️dirty mind✨️ decided it wanted to act up.

But the scene where Peter/Venom put this guy in a scary tentacled chokehold and he had the audacity to look pleased and THEN TAKE IT FURTHER BY BEGGING HIM TO DO IT HARDER??!!!!

I was couldn’t breathe around the pterodactyl noises that were surprised out of me from that...

CLEARLY...I wasn't imagining things before that scene if this motherfucker is now over here going like: choke me like you hate me but you love me🎵

Except with the full on aura of: ~I love the kind of woman that can actually just kill me~

Looking ass.

Had me dying lowkey fr wondering if this dude had always been a sexual deviant or if it's just this game iteration. Because he's honestly one of the villains I don't really remember from my childhood.

Now Venom out here lowkey being a hoe, with his thick ass, trying to show everyone what that tongue do as I (yell at the tv and) demand he put that thing back where it came from is completely normal and familiar.

For comparison purposes.

I am not familiar with a hunter (in Spiderman) so thrilled for a hunt he's willing to do mind games to break a person into not holding back and undo their "cures" so that he can fight them when they're no longer themselves. Getting into personal spaces, constantly grinning, goading and insisting, what the body language is saying...and in the case of this particular scene...begging.

Now I don't know if this man is gay...but that was fucking gay. 🤣

Why he look like he might be ready to bust a nut over this other man ✨️~consensually~✨️ roughing him up? And there's tentacles involved? 👀 que the lip biting 🫦

Gotta be somewhat gay.

And that's kwel or whatever but maybe NOT want sexual pleasure in them maiming and then killing you.

Kraven? More like Kray-kray.

Cuz that shits beyond fucking weird, wrong even, and I will stand by this.

[sillystardew]

I haven't seen this before but I thought it was a cute idea, so if you like it i'd love to see it written

My prompt is the farmer being good with kids and genuinely enjoys spending time with Jas, so they agree to keep an eye on her when Shane is out of town for therapy or something (and for sone reason Marnie can't).

Cue Shane coming back and seeing Jas curled up on top of the farmer, both of them asleep on the couch after watching a movie or in a blanket fort or something, and Shane instantly having a "Fuck, I love them" moment.

The scenario could take place while they're dating, already married, or while they're still friends and this is the moment he realizes he's in love with them, i'll leave that up to you.

I'm usually an angsty mf living for the pain but tbh I just want Shane to be happy lol

Thank you!!

AGHH yes i love this prompt!! I think i saw it once or twice over on Ao3, its such a cute one!!

Gender neutral reader 🦇

-Shane spends a lot more time with Jas than he did before he started going sober, which now includes picking her up from school and hanging out with her on the weekends and during festivals

-He wants to make sure this kid has a good life. She had a rough start, and he doesn’t want to be another reason for her to feel miserable.

-so, when the day comes that Marnie’s busy and he can’t take care of her, he’s a little stumped.

-normally he would have left her with Vincents mom, but he knows she’s busy today, so who else can help take care of her?

-Well.. the farmer’s not too busy today, right? Maybe she can hang out on the farm? After all, she always talks about all the pretty plants the farmer is growing.

-He asks her, and Jas is ECSTATIC. Jas was super shy when she first met the farmer, but now she loves talking about all the fun things they do and how she wishes she could hang out with them. And now she CAN?!

-She’s hopping and skipping the whoooole way there.

-He knows you wouldn’t do anything stupid with a kid around, so he trusts you to watch her while he heads into the city for his therapist appointment.

-He decides he’s probably going to pick something up in the city to bring back for you two, like food or a game

-anyway! You and Jas are gonna have so much fun :))) I imagine she probably likes to make jewelry (kandi-style or rainbow loom!) so you guys can just hang out at the house and make cute little crafts

-She really likes movies, so you also watch a few of those. You aren’t really sure how long Shane will be gone, so you pick out quite a few

-You two eventually fall asleep on the ground in front of the tv, surrounded by blankets, pillows, and any other soft thing you could find. Your pet is curled up right alongside you two in a big cuddle pile :)

-When Shane gets back and nobody answers the door, he guesses you probably took her out to explore somewhere. He knows you keep the door unlocked though, so he walks in to set down the things he bought, and-

-Oh. My. God.

-He thinks he can feel his pupils dilate when he sees you two passed out on the floor in a little puddle of blankets. Is he crying? Are those tears?

-Takes a moment to compose himself - he literally can’t handle how adorable this is. Why is his heart fluttering? What is going on??

-He turns the tv down since it’s still running, and in the process accidentally wakes up Jas, who immediately glomps him.

“Uncle Shane!!”

“Yoba, kid, keep it down!”

-Her jumping around wakes you up, obviously

-He immediately starts thanking you and apologizing for taking so long

-You’re like, half asleep. You dont process any of it

-after you wave them off and they start heading home (with Jas rambling the whole way about what you two did) he kind of just feels a dawning “oh, shit.”

-lets just say he didn’t get the recommended hours of sleep that night

(If anyone wants this turned into a proper fic and not just this bulletin-style type of writing, let me know! Im thinking of starting an Ao3 account for a shane fic I’ve been working on, so I need other things to post on there too ❤️)

[clunelover]

Omg I want to brag about a thing we did last night. So, I struggle with all aspects of keeping house. Tidying is especially rough cause not everything has a place currently so I do get stuck in "oh my god there’s nowhere to put anything, my whole life is a chaotic disaster" wheel-spinning. It also triggers my "just right" compulsions to do something part way, or to watch a child do something "wrong," so I’ve also never really made the kids do many chores, which I know is BAD (although then I also get too caught up in "oh my god we’ve never taught the kids to make their beds or to always pick up after themselves, they’re going to be the terrible entitled/helpless people everyone hates to have as college roommates!!" catastrophizing)…long story short, basically any aspect of cleaning, or not cleaning, can trigger all sorts of emotional crap for me. So, default strategy has been to avoid it all as much as I can, which did get better while I was in treatment, but of course it’s a lot different cleaning up alone while having half the day completely to myself, as opposed to keeping on top of it as a family as part of day to day, full time working parents life.

My therapist recommended that we try doing "walkthroughs" - just 10-15 mins of going through the house as a family, and putting things back that do have an obvious home. Not cleaning, just base-level tidying. Bring a laundry basket with to put things in that belong upstairs, so you’re not running up and down the whole time. I put her off for a week but, since I have therapy today, we finally did that last night, and it was GREAT! C kinda hated it, but he participated the minimum amount. E got kind of into it, and suggested adding picking up in the entryway as part of it, which we did. Idk it sounds so basic, but we’d just never done it before (sometimes Jeremy would clean with the kids but I never participated due to anxiety so it had a hard time becoming part of routine). Anyway, ideally we’d do a walkthrough a couple times a week, which I think is doable. We also finally dug through our "stair bins"- these little oddly shaped baskets that fit on top of a couple stairs, with the idea that you put things in there that belong upstairs, and then when it’s full carry it up and put the things away - but they’d become just a repository for random crap with no home, so we finally cleaned that crap out. I’m so proud! Of finally doing this one bare minimum thing! (Yeah yeah I know, it’s clearly actually difficult for me, otherwise I’d have done more by now…but I do also have to laugh at myself). I can’t wait to tell therapist the good news this afternoon!!

[whentherewerebicycles]

I am soooooo sleepy still but god I feel so much better physically and emotionally. the swelling isn’t totally gone but it’s not as noticeable and it doesn’t hurt anymore so massive improvement over the last couple days. I have a feeling the anxiety will come creeping back in as it always does but I’m going to try to really savor the post-healthy scan reprieve and I hope that the next time it surges I’ll be better equipped to handle it (more data, therapy, etc).

I also feel better having gotten through that workshop! there was a small group of boys in the back who talked through the entire thing—I was kinda shocked the prof whose class I was visiting didn’t say anything to them?—so I had to do a lot more classroom management than you typically have to do in a college class, but idk when I sat down with them in small groups and facilitated the activity they did a decent job with it. the other two groups (all girls lol) were super engaged and had a great discussion. so whatever lol. I get the sense that students here are very used to being talked at and then when they do small group activities some of them view that as like, well the teaching has stopped so I can do whatever I want now as this obviously doesn’t matter. but it was fun to think on the drive home about how I would tackle that challenge if I was their long-term prof. I think in my past classes we tend to do a lot of activities upfront that are tied to content but are really geared towards teaching students how to be in this type of class (where there’s only brief bursts of lecturing and most of the actual work is hands-on or student-led in their groups). so then you get practice and you learn the expectations and hopefully also you get to experience how much more engaging/useful it is to learn that way so there’s more buy-in from the group as a whole. anyway much to think about. I hope they let me teach soon!!!!!

okay. I have two workshops left this week but only one of them requires more prep (and even that one won’t be too bad—I just gotta find a bunch of specific examples and add a few more slides). today is a campus day but it’s a super easy one. here goes:

6:30-8 can do some mindless scrolling but also brainstorm for slides, answer faculty emails, etc.

8-9 shower/get ready

9ish leave for work… I will let myself buy a nice coffee and a breakfast burrito again if I want. I am giving myself lots of little treats this week as it has been a kinda rough one lol.

10-11 CJ mtg

11-11:30 brainstorm troika problem (I think use the DS program/summer programs issue)

11:30-12:30 lunch with KA

1-2 faculty mtg

2-3 team mtg (troika)

3ish drive home so I can walk the dogs before it gets dark maybe?

3:30-4:30 take an actual long walk with the dogs these poor creatures have been trapped inside for days.

watch hockey game but remember therapist is calling at 6 to schedule. maybe put the game on the TV and then try to finish slides on my laptop while watching

6:30-9:30 choir

collapse into bed zzzzzz these “late nights” on thursdays kill me lol I need to be tucked into bed by 7 these days

[restforthe-burdenedsoul]

And then I accidentally cried on the phone with my boss ha

This week is rough, not bad, just rough. I was supposed to work 4 10 hour shifts to be off Friday for therapy but Tuesday I had to leave early because M was really sick and we had to go to the hospital (really nasty stomach bug with a super high fever) and now today is a 11.5 hour day while I am feeling pretty shaken.

Im going to email my boss because I clearly cannot verbalize it right now, about FMLA hours. It’s showing I still have some banked but I’m also fairly certain that that’s supposed to be re-done yearly. Also I don’t know if I have an intern as a therapist if they can submit those papers.

It’s not normally an issue, but days like today I would really rather just take some time to process and feel and self care vs what’s happening right now.

I am honestly kind of shocked how hard this is hitting me today/yesterday. My logic brain is like “Omg just stop” and my emotions are like “you’re still not safe, would you like us to replay all the bad things that happened so you remember?”

Trying to focus on how far I’ve come. That these breakdowns are very rare anymore and I usually bounce back pretty fast. I think today it’s just that I’m so close to my period and I’ve been battling those hormones and this didn’t help.

[pringymac]

3:54am - january 5th

I feel so stupid writing this. I feel so ignorant for not paying attention to myself when I could, when I had the chance to afford a therapist and actually improve my situation, and I didn’t. Now here I am, like an idiot, trying to pour everything out just to stop it from hurting so much.

I don’t even know what hurts the most—it’s definitely a combo.

I feel for myself, I feel for my mom, I feel for my girl, I feel for my aunt… I just feel.

It’s no surprise to anyone that I’m so mentally messed up—not even to me—but the fact that it’s been 10 years, and I’m still neglecting myself? I’m still fighting against my own treatment, still delaying it, still preemptively making my mental health worse? I’m making myself worse. I’m being a terrible person to myself. And honestly, that says a lot. If I can’t even be good to me, do you really think I’m being a good girlfriend? A good daughter? A good person?

My girlfriend “isn’t talking to me,” and she has every reason not to. I know I’m hurting her, and I keep doing it. I promise and break the promise.

It’s horrible knowing I’m being so bad to someone who is so extraordinary to me. She’s beautiful, she’s funny, she’s charismatic, she has this huge smile, this amazing body. She’s loyal, trustworthy, responsible, affectionate, helpful, incredibly smart… and me? I… yeah. It’s rough.

I can barely breathe from the anxiety, from the frustration of waiting for everyone to go to bed so I can smoke, so I can have my little momentary escape that’s ruining my relationship, ruining my life. I can’t wait.

Right now, I hate my dad. I started crying again while writing this, but I can’t avoid it anymore. I hate him right now. I hate his presence, I hate the things he says, I hate looking at him, I hate the way he expresses himself and always thinks he’s right. I hate the person he is to me today. I hate that he never acknowledges his mistakes and that the words that come out of his mouth are just words. I hate that he’s terrified of losing me, but he also can’t wait for me to leave. I hate that we have nothing in common, and I hate knowing how much we’re alike. I just want to get away from him. I don’t think I can stand seeing or hearing his dissatisfaction with me simply existing anymore. I’m exhausted.

I’m mentally drained. I break into pieces every time I remember that on Monday, my break is over, and I’m back to work, and my next time off will probably only be next Christmas. My job is a blessing; I asked God for something, and He gave me exactly what I asked for. I’m not complaining—I’m just saying that I feel drained from work, from debts, from fear, from worry, and mostly from anger.

I need to get back up. I need therapy, I need to exercise more, eat better. I urgently need to feel better. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. It hurts.