#i could have fixed this DAYS ago??????????????

[fallbhind]

‘CASUAL’ RAFE CAMERON

genre smut, angst wordcount 1.4k

❝ i've heard so many rumors. ❜

content warnings ,, mentions oral (f!receiving), p in v, masterbation in the bathroom, 'no attachment sex', rumors (blegh, drama llama.), rafe and reader break up. s1 era.

it was so tiring being rafe's quick fix because you just wanted a real thing, y'know, not some quickie on his couch. the worst thing? your friends (not so friendly friends) call you a loser because you still hanging out with him, when any girl would have done dumped him and found someone better. but he is, or was your better.

sure, you did everything with rafe (when he called you up, not when you asked. sure one day you were fed up, left him a voicemail because of course he wouldn't pick up for you. "i've heard so many rumors." you said through the crackly phone. "that i'm just some girl you bang on your couch, i can't believe i thought you thought of me better."

an hour later (per usual), he answered you an hour later, telling you to 'hurry your ass out to tanneyhill'

you thought for a long hard while before ultimately deciding to head out to tanneyhill. where death literally layer waiting for you in your grave. you knew quite well what he was mad about and what he wanted, because you've sent multiple voicemails about the rumors going around outerbanks, you've heard about them and you‘be literally heard tourons living in the drama with you and rafe.

and you could never leave your back turned to long before people behind started murmuring up a storm.

you walked closer to your death in your busted up converses, running over impossible scenarios in your head. you stopped at the gate, texting rafe 'im here come to the gate.' you said with all intentions to be sassy. when you saw him, his pushed back curtain bangs, every part of him looked so hot.

he opened the gate, telling you to come on. rafe roughly grabbed your arm, taking you to his fathers study room were he did most of his work. whilst you were extremely liked throughout the cameron household, only you, rafe and maybe even sarah knew the real intent to your relationship. rafe said annoyingly, "we're not together, let me make myself clear.

it was like his mood immediately changed as he continued, "just a quick fix whenever we need it." when what he really meant to say was when he needed it. maybe you really should dump him. if that's how it really works. he kissed your forehead, "'n baby, no attachment." though three weeks ago he excused the both of you so he could be knee deep in the passenger seat while he was eating you out, remembering all those sweet nothings he whispered into you pussy that made you give him what he wanted. not to mention, he always acted so lovey dovey with you. and it was about time you got fed up.

you didn't expect for his step-mom, rose, two weeks later after the major argument with rafe to invite you for dinner at tanneyhill. rafe, put on a mock smile, ready to peel the skims dress off your body. you were greeted by ward, and did he piss you off, with the fake smiling and his eyes trailing across your body whenever he could. perv.

"welcome, you look nice and sophisticated." ward said with the nicest tone he could bear, "no wonder rafe doesn't bring you up, your so lovely i'd hog you to." he laughed, and it sounded so fake. rafe had his hand on the small of your back as he led you into the dining room.

you took a seat in between wheezie and sarah, rafe sat across from you, with a pissed off expression. like, how could your's and his situation be casual now? you've literally done every thing, fingering, eating you out, a little bit of intercourse action, you've jerked and sucked him off, and you've let him jerk off onto your tits, and it was somehow casual.

after dinner, rafe again, excused you and him to go to the bathroom. he led you to the bathroom, shutting the door as he told you demanding to get on his counter, you back pressing against the mirror. "fuck, y'look s'good tonight." he pushed up the skims dress up to your hips, "'n no underwear?"

"all'that arguin' f'nothin', still my sweet, sweet sluty girl, ain't you?" he slowly rubbed your thighs , "you gotta be quiet though, don't want to embarrass yourself, do you?" he smugly grinned when you nodded, he dipped his fingers into your cunt, and your let out a surprised gasp, squeezing around his fingers.

he kissed you, whispering sweet nothings like you and him didn't just have an argument two weeks ago.

he unbuttoned his pants, using his index to hook the loops were a belt would be to shove them down, following his boxers. he wiped the pre-cum off his tips, using his thumb to slide it into your mouth. "my girl takes everything." he whispered as you attentively sucked on his finger.

you sucked off all the pre-cum off his cock, rafe patting your cheek gently. he spread your legs more, giving him a great view of your pretty, coated pearl, pressing his finger against it, you rolled your head back into the mirror.

"rr-rafe!" you stuttered out as you cried out. he pulled away from your pretty pearl, aligning his cock with your tight hole. he thrusted into your hole, making you cry out for him again.

he squeezed your cheek, holding you in between his thumb and index finger. "c'mon baby give me more than that. not to loud though." he whispered harshly against your neck, gripping your thighs as he kept repeatedly bullying his way into you. and without break, he kept thrusting his cock into you, with a sneaky smirk. "your my girl aintchu?" he kissed your neck, taking a rest inside you.

rafe nipped at your neck as he moved his cock against your gummy hole. feeling you squeeze around him when he bite and sucked on your neck, he kept doing it. even if it felt like you wanted to squeeze his cock off inside of you. "s'tight. jus' how i like it." he whispered against your shoulder, bullying his way back in you as your gummy walls tried to push him out. he aggressively grunted in your ear, feeling the warmness off your breath as you let out a whimper and even softer moans. you gasped when he touched your g-spot, immediately convulsing around him but not yet coming on his cock.

he'd pulled out just before you could finish. he pulled his boxers, following his pants. he buttoned them up, leaving you desperate for release. you found yourself rubbing your clit trying any method of running your clit to come, though you weren't quite being able to finish off yourself. maybe the problem was that you never had to do anything yourself. you came on rafe's cock than he would come on your stomach.

you tugged your black skims dress back down, putting your heels back on as well before making your way out of the bathroom. you sat across from rafe as he had the satisfaction of making you better than before and not helping you like usual. it was great to see you a little grumpy, whilst a little nervous because you decided to be a little slut and go no underwear. but doesn't mean you weren't his little slut.

you were obviously out of it, because sarah had to tap you back into reality as everyone started eating. you cut the steak up before taking a bite of it. "this is really good ms. cameron, you'll have to teach me how to make it." you said cheerfully. rose smiled at you and nodded.

she was really proud of the fact you thought it was that good, but than of course, her cooking for the cameron's was something any mother should do, while some might think that she'd hire someone, she did it herself.

a week later, your friends had told you rafe had said it was casual still and that 'you get off when he hit it' when he never hit your clit not once. sure he left you drying for release but that wasn't the point. and that was near the last straw for you. you were tired.

you wanted a real relationship which was obvious that rafe wasn't ready for, so you found yourself calling him. and again, it wasn't something were he'd answer you, you said to him through the voicemail "i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself." you took a breath, "we're done." you said before slipping your phone in your pocket and walking away from the wreck after just having breakfast with your friend.

TAGS .ᐟ @archiveofvirtue @sematarygirls @beausling @mattsdolll @pr3ttyf4wn

@wi4hfulth1nking @gibson-g1rl

[chillian-murphy]

Experimental Treatment

SUMMARY: after numerous failed attempts to treat your anxiety, you enroll in an experimental drug trial run by Dr. Jonathan Crane (OR: how you became Dr. Crane's bimbo fuckslave)

WORD COUNT: 5.4k

WARNINGS/ADDITIONAL INFO: Smut 🔞, dub con, drugging, mention of anxiety disorders, bimboification, brainwashing kinda??, breast/nipple play, oral sex (m receiving), piv, Jonathan is manipulative and possibly a nevernude

beta'd by @pawnsong

You shifted nervously as you sat in Dr. Crane’s office for the first time. You’d tried numerous treatments for your trauma-related anxiety, but nothing seemed to work. It had been about a year since you had been beaten, tied up, and left for dead in a supply closet by one of Gotham’s many aspiring criminals, and you haven’t been able to eat, sleep, or generally care for yourself since. When you heard about an experimental treatment study happening at the local university, you enrolled as quickly as you could, moving faster than you’d ever moved in your life. You knew there was no one therapy or pill that could fix everything, but at this point, you were desperate for any sort of relief that could be offered.

The man that entered was much younger than you expected; you always pictured the doctor running a drug trial to be much older, maybe even a bit weathered from the stress of working in such a nightmarish city. Instead, he was small, slender, and had an almost angelic baby face.

“Tell me about what brings you here today.” He sat down without looking up from his chart.

“It should all be there, but to summarize: about a year ago I was assaulted and have been experiencing extreme anxiety, depression, and nightmares since. I can’t eat more than a few bites of food at a time without vomiting, and can’t remember the last time I’ve had a few night’s sleep. I’ve tried talk therapy and a slew of medications, including SSRIs, SNRIs, and benzodiazepines, but nothing seems to work.”

By this point, you’ve gone over your symptoms and previous treatments so many times that you had a well rehearsed script you relied on when recounting them. You worried that listing everything off in such a matter-of-fact way would lead people to think you’re just seeking drugs for recreational reasons, but fuck, what didn’t you worry about these days?

“As I’m sure you were told when you were applying for the trial, my background is in pharmacology and I’ll be putting you on an experimental drug of my own creation. I won’t bore you with the specifics of how it works, but you’ll receive a fast-acting injection once a week, and it should calm your nerves and improve your sleep. The exact effects aren’t well documented as of yet, which is why you’re here. All of the proper consent forms should be in order, so if you like, I can start you on the injections here and now.”

“Yes, please, whatever gets me my life back the soonest.” As nervous as you were to be injected with something you knew almost nothing about, part of you was almost giddy to be given something that might finally work.

“The drug can have some sedative effects, so no driving, at least for the first 24 hours. Do you have someone to pick you up? Family, a roommate? A boyfriend, perhaps?” Dr. Crane continued to inform as he prepared a syringe.

“I took public transport. Not a lot of people in my life.” you chuckled nervously.

“All alone. What a shame.”

Before you could mentally register his comment as odd, you were startled by the coldness of an alcohol wipe rubbing against your arm and the sharpness of a needle being inserted.

“You should start feeling the effects in about 5-10 minutes. I’m sending you home with a packet detailing what you should expect, as well as my phone number if anything unusual happens. It might be difficult, but I want you to take detailed notes on everything you experience, and we’ll review them when you come in for your next dosage.”

It proved a bit difficult to make your way home as the medication’s effects set in. Your body felt heavy and sleepy, and you had trouble concentrating; even reading the familiar train schedule felt impossible. Thankfully, some sort of muscle memory kicked in and you made it home safely, letting your brain turn off and follow your usual routine out of habit alone. The mindlessness felt weirdly comforting, you barely realized that you had moved from your spot on the subway until you were at your front door, fishing around for your keys in your bag.

The rest of the night went by pretty uneventfully, following your usual routine, with the addition of writing down your response to the medications in the journal included with Dr. Crane had provided you with. For the first night in as long as you could remember, you settled into a deep, dreamless sleep that lasted the full night.

*********************************************************

A week had passed since your initial meeting, and you were in Dr. Crane’s office again to go over how the medication had affected you and to receive your next dosage. You brought the journal you had taken notes in, although you were unsure how helpful it would be since you had mostly jotted down bullet points instead of writing down your experiences in-depth. It was the most you could do, since you were having trouble concentrating after you were dosed. Shit, that was another thing you should’ve written down.

The doctor entered quietly and greeted you with a tense smile, the kind of polite grimace you’d make upon accidentally making eye contact with a stranger in public. He motioned for you to hand over your journal of notes as he sat, and you passed it to him while trying to avoid looking at him as much as possible. He had never done anything to make you uncomfortable aside from being a bit terse, but he still gave you an uneasy feeling. 

“Let’s look at what you’ve written down. Your notes are brief, but at least they’re organized.”

Once again, terse. It was tempting to want to interrupt and explain how hard it was to focus on writing every little thing down when you kept forgetting where you were or what you were doing, often wandering into a room only to realize you couldn’t remember why you went there, but speaking up felt like too much trouble all of a sudden. After all, wasn’t Dr. Crane being soooo nice, offering to help you with your anxiety?

You had no idea where that thought came from. Weird.

“Grogginess, that’s to be expected, the drug was designed with sedative qualities. Forgetfulness, once again, not uncommon. Sleeping through the night? Good. Breast growth? I’d like you to elaborate.”

“I started getting my appetite back and gaining weight—“

“Weight gain is typical if you’re eating more regularly than you were before,” he interjected before you could finish. God, did he think you were fucking stupid?

“But I only seemed to gain weight around my breasts and hips.”

“Are you saying you’d rather have a double chin and beer belly?”

“Well, no…”

“Then I don’t see what the problem is.”

“I can’t fit into any of my old bras. Bras are expensive.” It really felt like talking to a brick wall.

“Understood.” He scribbled a few quick notes before looking back up at you. “Is there anything else?”

“Not that I can think of.” Relief sank in when you realized this meant that your meeting was wrapping up.

“Then I’ll give you your next dose and let you go. Please continue to take notes, even if they are brief. Any information you can give me is immeasurably helpful.” He gave you what must’ve been his version of a reassuring smile, tight and forced, before motioning for you to roll up your sleeve and receive your next shot. A cold jab in the arm was administered, and you were on your way.

*********************************************************

The next week passed largely without note, the intense brain fog from the first dosage had lessened into a sort of ditzy forgetfulness, which was still inconvenient but easier to live with. You misplaced things, forgot what you were doing, and lost track of time regularly, but somehow it all seemed easier to just laugh off. Had it not been for a reminder on your phone, you probably would’ve forgotten all about your weekly meeting with Dr. Crane.

The usual unease you felt around him was gone; you were almost looking forward to talking to him. He was the only one you could really talk to about everything that had happened since starting the trial, and how good you’ve been feeling, how your racing thoughts have slowed, and how sometimes you didn’t seem to think at all. It was a relief you never knew existed.

You were so caught up in thinking about not thinking that you hadn’t noticed Dr. Crane entering, sitting down, or speaking to you until he cleared his throat impatiently.

“I said, do you have your notes from this week?”

“Oh, right, here.” You casually tossed over your journal, even though your notes were even more scant than the first week. You had written just three things: 

boobs keep growing

really sensitive

really horny!!

thoughts not happening

“This is the second time you’ve mentioned your breasts.” It didn’t take long for Dr. Crane to skim your brief notes. “Would you mind showing them to me?”

Despite his relaxed posture, his stare felt about a thousand times more intense as you squirmed in your seat.

“That feels inappropriate.”

“I’m a medical professional. I assure you, I’m only trying to verify what you’ve reported.”

Cautiously, you pulled the front of your top down, exposing yourself to him. To your surprise, doing this didn’t make you feel nervous or vulnerable, despite always feeling rather timid about being seen naked in the past. Showing off for the doctor felt weirdly <i>right</i>, like the best thing you could do in any situation would be to do what he says.

He scooted forward on his wheeled office chair, leaning in to examine you closer, never losing the icily neutral look on his face. It’s not that you wanted him to leer, but something, anything other than stony professionalism would’ve gone a long way, especially as he reached out to touch you.

“You’ve gone up… two, maybe three cup sizes? Have you taken any measurements?” He cupped your round, heavy breast lightly, as if to evaluate it. His hand was surprisingly warm, you always assumed that his cold personality would extend to his touch, and that being handled by him would be like being prodded by a metal instrument.

“I dunno… enough that men have started being nicer to me.” Measuring hadn’t even occurred to you. A lot of things stopped occurring to you. It was so much easier just letting yourself not think.

“And you said they’re sensitive.” Gentle cupping had turned into squeezing, firm enough to make you aware of just how strong his hands are. You wanted to moan and lean into his touch, but you didn’t want to make things any more awkward than they already were.

“Yes” you squeaked out. “Really sensitive.”

“You also wrote down that you were, in your own words, really horny. Now, I’m going to need some elaboration, is that an increase in sex drive, or more like constant arousal? I need you to be as descriptive as possible.” He rolled your nipple between his fingers before turning his attention to your other breast, giving it the same treatment.

“It’s both. I’m just… always horny, and I come so much harder now. Sometimes I sneak off during work to rub myself in the bathroom. I can’t help it, it just feels so good, so much better than it did before.” You knew it was for the study, but telling him this much, especially while he touched you like this, felt… weird, like it shouldn’t be happening. But you didn’t want it to stop.

“Are you aroused right now?” If your brain wasn’t clouded by how much you were turned on, you would notice the subtle smirk on his face. Instead, you just nodded eagerly.

“Now, I’ll have to stop touching you so I can write all this down. You’ve given me some crucial information, and as a thank you, you’re welcome to grind against my shoe and get yourself off while I record everything you just told me.” He casually extended his leg as an invitation.

You dropped to your knees promptly, bare breasts bouncing with every movement, and stared up at him dumbly as you straddled his foot. He barely glanced at you while he jotted notes down, even as you rubbed yourself against the shiny black leather of his shoe. It didn’t take long at all for you to climax, and when your orgasm hit you, it hit you so hard that it was honest-to-god disorienting. It took you a moment to remember where you were as you shuddered and fell backwards to the floor.

This was enough to finally get Dr. Crane’s attention. You stared back up at him with big, doe eyes as you finally realized how bizarre and even <i>wrong</i> it was for a doctor to grope you and encourage you to masturbate in front of him.

“Good girl. Cover yourself and let me give you your next dose.”

The faint bit of praise sent shocks down your spine as you pulled your top back over your breasts and climbed back into your seat, and the way Dr. Crane touched you as he administered the injection felt gentler than usual, almost tender. As soon as the drug entered your bloodstream, any apprehension you had about what just happened quickly disappeared.

*********************************************************

“These… aren’t notes in any way, shape or form.” Dr. Crane rubbed his temples in frustration as he looked at the page of doodles you handed him, mostly hearts, stars, and smiley faces.

“I couldn’t think of anything to write. I thought I would make it pretty instead.” you shrugged as you sat with your legs folded in a criss-cross on the couch in his office, not noticing or caring that the position hiked up your already short skirt in a way that revealed your lacy panties. It was true, you couldn’t remember a single thought, new effect, or even what you did from day to day over the past week.

“If you can’t record and report how the drugs are affecting you, you won’t be of any use to the trial and we’ll have to take you off the drug.” he chided, as if explaining himself to a small child. “Because right now, you’re just wasting my time.”

“But I like the drug! I feel better!” you whined, rocking back and forth and pouting for emphasis. “I’ll be good. I promise. Just tell me what to do.”

“Can you tell me anything? Anything at all?” His tone was becoming more condescending, to the point where it got through to even your druggy little brain. He stared at you, daring you to say something, but all you could do was stare back at him dumbly. “That’s what I thought.”

“I’ll have the nurses prepare the outtake forms. I wish you could have been more useful to me.” He spoke curtly as he stood and gathered his belongings, not even dignifying you with eye contact. You were nothing but a broken tool to be discarded.

“But I need this!” You desperately attempted to stand and follow him as he left, but were unable to unfold your legs and spilled on the floor, catching the leg of his pants and staring back up at him with big, pleading eyes.

You were desperate, you were pathetic, you were suddenly useful again.

“I’m surprised you’re this determined to stay in the trial. I suppose we do have one last option: since you’re unable to record your own data, I will have to watch you and take notes myself. I have a spare room in my apartment that you can move into, which should be more comfortable than being committed to the hospital and allow me more access to observe you. Is that something you would consent to?”

You nodded eagerly, although you’d agree to anything as long as it meant not going back to the anxious, overthinking mess of a person that you were before. It was so much simpler being simple.

“I’m taking a big risk on you. I need you to do something for me, to show you’re serious about wanting to continue with the trial.” He gestured towards the growing bulge in his pants, which was mere inches from your face. You stared silently, not sure he was inferring, but your mouth instinctively watered and dropped open when he nudged your head towards his clothed dick.

You pawed at his tented trousers until he got impatient and undid the zipper himself and freed his erection from his boxer briefs, and you quickly got to work bobbing your head over his length, lavishing the head with your tongue. Your eyes watered as you pushed as much of his cock down your throat as you could, making yourself gag lightly but never enough to deter you. You didn’t care that drool was dribbling down your chin, Dr. Crane’s cock was all that mattered.

He grasped a fistful of your hair, reinforcing the rhythm of your movements, and shoving you further down on his cock. No matter how visibly uncomfortable you were, you never pushed back or struggled, you just accepted your place as a living fucktoy. Mascara was running down your cheeks and your skin was flushed and glassy with sweat, almost looking like the plasticky sheen of a blow-up doll.

Dr. Crane grunted as he came in spurts down your throat, still tender from the rough treatment. You didn’t waste a single drop of what he gave you, and ran your tongue over his slit to collect any remaining seed. Once you swallowed everything, you wiped the saliva from your face and smiled up at him sweetly.

“Can we go home now?”

*********************************************************

You had lost count of how many days it had been since Dr. Crane brought you home, in fact, most of your life outside of the past few weeks had been something of a blur. It didn’t matter, though, as being his pretty little pet didn’t require you to think much. You spent most of your days lounging about, watching porn, staring out the window, or oohing and aahing over the pretty clothes he brought home for you. It took him a while to settle on a style when he replaced your wardrobe, dressing you in everything from latex minidresses to 1950s housewife apparel, but eventually found that he favored soft, feminine babydolls in light colors like pink and white.

You were admiring the ruffled hem of the slip you were wearing when you heard him unlocking the door to his apartment, and you immediately rushed over to greet him. Seeing him was the best part of your day, and you couldn’t wait to sit in his lap and talk to him about your busy day of watching yourself edge in front of the mirror.

It had become something of a routine, he would settle into his favorite recliner after coming home from work, and you’d straddle him with your breasts in his face while he felt you up and vented about whatever was bothering him. His job at the university was soooo stressful, apparently conducting experiments on unwitting students is “frowned upon,” whatever that meant. You were always happy to make him feel better.

“…and the dean can’t even appreciate the validity of my work. Opening up the skull of a live subject is the most reliable way to observe changes in the brain, regardless of whether or not the ethics board likes it.” You had no idea what he was even talking about, but you did your best to seem sympathetic, hugging his neck and pulling his head into your chest.

“My day was hard, too. My vibrator stopped working and I had to rub myself by hand.”

“Did you try changing the batteries?”

You thought about what he said for a few seconds and fell into a fit of giggles.

“Duh! Batteries go in the vibrator! You’re so smart, you always think of the best things.”

“That’s why I do all the thinking in the relationship. You just look pretty and keep your holes ready.” He frowned at you in faux concern, as if you were capable of having thoughts of your own.

“I do keep my holes ready!” You bounced excitedly in his lap. You were so, so good at having holes and keeping them ready. Dr. Crane even told you so.

“Wanna show me how nice and ready they are?" his hands skimmed over your body, from the top of your waist down to your thighs and then around back to your ass, which he squeezed firmly, making you gasp softly. You raised the hem of your slip and pulled your panties to the side, revealing your pussy, which was wet from edging all day. You were never allowed to let yourself come while he was gone, that was a special privilege that only he was allowed to give you.

“Beautiful. And your ass?”

You rose from his lap, turned around, and bent over to show him the plug you’ve had in for the past hour.

“I started with the small one and put the bigger one in when you texted me, just like you asked." The plugs always felt weird and you didn't like the bigger ones, but if Dr. Crane wanted you to wear them, then obviously there was a good reason. He’s so handsome and smart, you’d do anything he said.

“Good girl." His praise made your heart sing as he fucked the toy in and out of you. He knew anal play frustrated you, and it was so cute to watch as you tried not to squirm as the bulbous plug disappeared in your ass. Maybe he’d lock your pussy away in a chastity belt and make you masturbate anally all day instead of your usual edging.

Dr. Crane could hardly believe how much his little experiment had changed you. When he started the trial, it was mainly to indulge his curiosity about how the antidote to his fear toxin would affect people with no fear toxin exposure, and most of the other participants reacted to it the same way they would to any other common anxiolytic, save for one particularly unfortunate person who had their fear response reduced so drastically that they walked into oncoming traffic without realizing it was dangerous. But you? You turned into the perfect fuckdoll: always aroused, eager to please, and too oblivious to notice the strange hours he kept as both a professor and as Scarecrow.

Of course, there were some down sides: he had hoped to mold you into something of a stepford wife, not only taking care of his needs in the bedroom but other domestic duties as well. Yet after your third time nearly setting the kitchen on fire while trying to cook a simple meal, he had to accept that you had simply become too airheaded to trust with anything but sex.

“Can we fuck now? My pussy needs you." You whined, interrupting the train of thought that had pulled Dr. Crane’s focus away from you.

“Good girls don't whine like that, sweetheart. I could fuck you, but for that I think I’ll make you wait until after dinner.” He chided. You were so much fun to toy with when you got desperate.

"But I am a good girl! Let me show you.” You pouted and begged.

“If you’re an extra good girl, you’ll be quiet while I’m cooking dinner and then we can fuck.” His tone was equal parts syrupy and condescending, “if not, you can spend the rest of the night gagged and locked in your cage. The choice is yours.”

Not wanting to spend the night locked in a dog crate, you crossed your arms and sulked, but nevertheless obeyed as you sunk into the couch. Your needy little pussy was aching, but you had to be a good girl for Dr. Crane. Even if it was mean and bad and unfair and… Oh? There’s a plate being placed in front of you, dinner must be ready already.

As soon as Dr. Crane sat down beside you, you snuggled into his side. Physical affection wasn’t something he was used to before bringing you home, and it took him some time to come around to it, but now he was actually starting to enjoy the amount of cuddles and kisses you desired from him. Spooning on the couch while trying to eat wasn’t the most practical thing in the world, although you were determined to find a way to bury your face in his chest while also stuffing it with mashed potatoes.

“Someone’s needy tonight,” he teased as he stroked your hair.

You just hummed contentedly and nuzzled your face into his neck. He was warm and smelled nice, like everything in the apartment. The one time you tried opening the window, it smelled like rot and gasoline, and made you sad and scared as it filled your head with vague memories of your old life.

Dinner passed comfortably and quietly, even as you squirmed to find a position that let you eat and snuggle at the same time. Dr. Crane’s attention was largely on the nightly news playing on the television, nodding along with the crime report. The news was mostly boring to you, except for that one weird time that a woman who looked like you and had your name was reported missing. Dr. Crane told you not to worry about it, though, so you didn’t.

“I’d say you’ve been a very good girl this evening,” Dr. Crane shifted to face you. “Would you like to join me in the bedroom?”

“What’s in the bedroom?” You stared blankly.

“Sex, sweetheart. I’m asking you if you would like to have sex.” Dr. Crane rubbed his temples. Perhaps drugging your brains out but leaving you just smart enough to talk was a mistake.

Sex! Sex was exactly what you wanted! Sex was what you dreamed about all day, edging your pussy and thinking of Dr. Crane. Your face lit up, which he took as a sign to lead you to the bedroom.

As you approached the bed, he toyed with the strap of your chemise, gliding it off your shoulder so it hung suggestively.

“I want this off.” His voice was soft, but his unblinking gazes held all the authority in the world over you.

“Yes, sir.” You made quick work of the garment, pulling it over your head and flinging it to the floor.

“Panties, too.”

Those silently slid off next, leaving you completely nude while he remained fully clothed.

Dr. Crane’s breath stilled for a moment as he took in the sight in front of him. It only took a few weeks of being dosed for your body to reshape into a bouncy hourglass, with full breasts, a slim, defined waist, and a round ass with thighs to match. A soft, trimmed patch of hair adorned your pussy, just above the lips, with everything else kept bare. Occasionally you’d have your pubic hair waxed into a heart, which he found ridiculous, but was easy enough to overlook if it kept you happy.

Once he was done drinking in the sight of your body, he gently shoved you onto the bed and guided your legs open, settling in between. His hand made its way to your eager little pussy, spreading the lips and pressing inside, making you shudder in pleasure.

“Have you been this wet for me all day, baby?” His voice now a low rasp, thick with desire.

“Mmmhmm,” you hummed in affirmation, too lost in the sensation to form words.

“God, you’re good for me.” He growled as he dived on top of you, kissing your neck and fondling your breasts. You couldn’t help but moan when he rolled your nipple between his fingers, tugging lightly. You were always responsive, but especially when he played with your tits.

He trailed soft bites down from your neck to your nipples, gently nipping at any skin he could grasp between his teeth. Once he got to your chest, he got more aggressive, sinking his teeth into you until you whimpered in pain. Your breasts were his favorite. He had never given much thought to the “tits or ass?” question before, but now that he could come home to a soft, inviting pair to play with and suck, he knew where his preference lied.

Feeling satisfied that your nipples were now swollen and pink from both arousal and abuse, Dr. Crane removed himself from on top of you to once again admire your needy body and tease your cunt. Even when he was just fucking you with his fingers, you moaned and rolled your hips as if it was the best thing you’ve ever felt. Some nights it could drag on for hours, he would stimulate you with just his hands or a toy only to withdraw before you could climax, giving pleasure and taking it away over and over to see just how desperate he could make you. It was no secret that Dr. Crane was a sadist, and watching you squirm, cry, and beg was almost as good to him as coming inside of you.

Tonight was different, though, he wanted to fuck. He pulled his fingers out of you and freed himself from his trousers and underwear, making a show of rubbing his cock with the wet essence covering his fingers as he lined himself up with your tight, eager hole. He pushed himself in slowly, savoring how hot and slick you felt around him.

Your life revolved around his cock. If you weren’t sucking on it or being filled by it, you were fantasizing about the next time you would have it inside of you. And now that you were being given exactly what you were craving, you couldn't get enough, grinding back against Dr. Crane every time his hips met yours.

No longer satisfied with the languid pace he had set earlier, Dr. Crane pulled back slightly, helping to lift your hips and push your legs towards your chest, essentially folding you in half so he could penetrate you deeper and harder. His new rhythm was merciless as his fingers dug into your thighs, pistoning his hips and fucking you like his life depended on it. Whatever frustration he felt with his job, his colleagues, and his extracurricular activities, he was now taking out on your pussy and all you could do was grip the sheets and take it. 

Between the powerless feeling reinforced by his rough treatment and the way his cock was hitting your g-spot, you couldn't help but let your eyes roll back in ecstasy. You were fulfilling your ultimate purpose as Dr. Crane’s pet: a pretty toy to play with and look at, and an inviting set of holes to fuck. You could come from the thought alone if you were allowed to orgasm without permission. You met each of his thrusts with short, staccato moans as you arched your back beneath him, sticking out your chest as your breasts bounced with every hammering movement.

Dr. Crane’s breath grew ragged as he approached his own climax, and his motions changed from a fluid rhythm to jerky, rough thrusts.

“Play with your clit. Come for me."

Finally given the permission you’ve been needing all evening, you began rubbing yourself vigorously as he continued ramming his cock into you. It didn't take much to push you over the edge, and as your orgasm hit, you moaned so loud and luridly that it would make most seasoned pornographers blush.

Dr. Crane wasn't nearly as noisy as he joined you in orgasmic bliss, panting heavily as he filled you with his seed. Once he found himself thoroughly drained, he collapsed next to you and silently attempted to catch his breath as you rolled over and snuggled up to his chest.

“Let's go again!" you excitedly chirped while reaching for his softened cock.

“Later, sweetheart, I need to rest.” He had no idea how you recovered so quickly. "Why don't you play with yourself while you're full of my come? I know you like that.”

"It's not the same,” you begged. "I need your cock.”

"How about this,” Dr. Crane's clinical doctor voice was back. "You can warm my cock in your mouth while I grade papers, and once I'm good and ready, I’ll fuck your throat while you ride one of your dildos.”

You made a happy little squeal as you smiled and hugged him tightly. He took such good care of you, keeping you so well-fucked. You had everything you could ever want: you were safe, you were loved, you were happy. And all you had to do was let your brain be turned into cotton candy.

[madlori]

Facebook Official

whoops my hand slipped and I banged out 1800 words of fix-it fic in like an hour. btw i think the Abby connection is dumb but I'm making it work.

Three years after reconciling with Buck, newly engaged to him, Tommy gets a phone call from a certain former dispatcher...who's just seen some interesting news via a Facebook Relationship Status post.

*****

(also on AO3)

To say that the phone call blindsided him would have been the understatement of the century.

He was just sitting at home watching the game, having a beer, minding his own business. Evan was on shift — must be a busy one, he’d only gotten two text messages all evening, one bitching about not having had time to eat dinner and the other about idiots who texted while driving.

His phone rang. Unknown number. Normally he wouldn’t have picked up, but with all the wedding preparations, a lot of vendors were calling. It was a little late to be making business calls, just after 8 pm, but he’d quickly learned that business norms meant little in the wedding planning business. “Hello?”

“Tommy?”

“Yes?” A woman’s voice. Familiar, but he couldn’t place it.

Pause “You’re marrying Buck??” A slightly hysterical note of disbelief entered the woman’s voice as she said the name.

And all at once, he knew who it was. Shit fuck motherfucker why didn’t we get ahead of this one.

“Abby. Um…”

“Evan Buckley? My ex-fiancé and my ex-boyfriend are marrying each other?”

“Small world, huh?” he said, going for levity.

“Buck’s not even gay!”

“No, he’s not. He’s bisexual.”

“I’m…okay. I’m sorry, it’s just…this is a lot of information to get all at once.”

“How did you even find out? Don’t you live in Phoenix?”

“Buck posted one of those relationship status things on Facebook.”

“Oh. I barely use Facebook.”

“Me either, but Buck does, and I hadn’t been on there in awhile, but I logged on and that was like the third post I saw!”

Tommy remembered the day Buck had made the post. They hadn’t really put their relationship on social media much - Buck posted photos of them on Instagram sometimes - and he hadn’t done one of those stupid relationship status things for them until they got engaged. They’d trawled their phones for the right pic, eventually settling on one taken at a 118 barbecue of them together, smiling, arms slung around waists. He hadn’t said so, but he’d gotten a little emotional over what Evan wrote on the post:

Evan Buckley is engaged to Tommy Kinard.

“It’s been a long road, but we made it. Can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with this man. He’s the best person I’ve ever known. I love you!”

“Well…I’m sorry that was an unpleasant surprise for you,” Tommy said, carefully.

She sighed. “I don’t know that it was…unpleasant. But a surprise, for sure. How do you even know Buck? How did you meet?”

“We’re both firefighters, it’s not that surprising that we could have met, is it?”

“No, I guess not.”

“And he was at my old firehouse. The one you refused to ever come to. But I guess you went when you were with him, didn’t you?”

“You never wanted me to meet your friends. I guess I found out why when you broke off our engagement.”

“I’m sorry, Abby. I know I said it then, but I’ll say it again now. I lied to myself, I lied to a lot of people. It took me almost trapping you in my lie, when you did not deserve that, to break me out of it.”

“I forgave you ages ago. We don’t have to go over all that again.”

“I met Evan…I guess it’s four years ago? We started dating not long after. I, um…was the first man he dated. I guess I made him realize some things about himself.”

“Just transforming lives everywhere you go, huh?” she said, a teasing note entering her voice. Tommy was happy to hear it.

“Yeah, well, I almost screwed it up. I broke up with him six months later. He was diving in headfirst, too fast, just all in and wanting to move in with me.”

“That sounds just like Buck.”

“I panicked and ended it before I could get in any deeper with him.”

“It was too late, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah. I was already in love with him.”

“He’s easy to love. Too easy,” she said, quietly. “But you got back together, obviously.”

“Took a little while. Almost a year. I dated a few guys, he dated a few people, but nothing stuck for either of us - I know now it’s because we were still hung up on each other. We have a friend in common and we’d hear about each other through him…but I didn’t really see him until we ended up on a major incident call together. I sustained a minor injury - just a scrape, really - and Hen from his house patched me up. I was sitting there on the ambulance deck, more or less left to myself, and he came waltzing up with that eyebrow raised like he knew all my secrets.” Abby chuckled, like she knew the exact expression he was describing. “He just said, are you done being fucking stupid yet?”

“And you were.”

“Yep. I was. He took me home that night and we’ve barely been apart since. Got engaged a year later.”

“You sound happy.”

“I am. I’m ecstatic. I can’t believe I got a second chance with him. I kicked myself for ending it like that, I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. You thought you weren’t enough for him to want to keep you.”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“That’s dumb.”

“That’s what he says.”

They sat there not speaking for what felt like a long time.

“Well…” Abby said. “I feel like I just unloaded on you out of the blue.”

“You kinda did,” he said, smiling.

“Maybe I shouldn’t have called.”

“I’m glad you did. You know…Evan and I didn’t realize we had you in common until our six month anniversary dinner. In fact, it was that revelation that sort of started us on the way to breaking up for awhile. But that’s been so long now and it hasn’t come up in a few years. I almost forgot about it.”

“Gee, thanks,” she said, her grin audible. “I’m glad you’re both happy. I have a lot of regret over Buck, how I left things with him. I assume he’s told you.”

“He has. If it helps, he doesn’t have any bad feelings towards you.”

“It does help. Thank you for that.” She sighed. “I’ll let you go. I just saw that Facebook post and spiralled a little bit.”

“Understandable.”

“Please tell Buck I say hello. And I wish you both so much happiness, Tommy.”

“Thank you. And I will.”

She hung up. Tommy stared at the phone for a moment, then opened his text message thread with Evan.

You’re not gonna believe what just happened.

*****

When Evan got home at 7 am, they had their usual two hours to share breakfast and maybe a quick fuck before Tommy had to be on shift himself. They tried to sync their schedules so their off days coincided, but it didn’t always work.

“Holy shit, why didn’t we get ahead of that one?” Evan said as he burst in the door, not even bothering with “hello.” His shoes and duffel went flying and he bustled into the kitchen where Tommy was mixing the pancake batter.

“Yeah, I had the same thought,” he said, leaning over to kiss him hello.

Evan went to the coffee pot. “I didn’t even think about it, that she might see.”

“Neither did I.”

“How’d she sound?”

“Really surprised at first. Incredulous, even? Like in the what-are-the-odds way.”

“Kinda like when I found out we’d both dated her.”

“Yeah, but you’re my himbo now,” Tommy said, smirking. “No, she was just shocked. I gave her the quick rundown, and she ended up congratulating us.”

“Did you tell her it’s her fault we broke up for a year?” Evan said, popping a strawberry into his mouth.

“I think the proper person to bear the fault is me.”

“And also me. Who asks someone to move in after six months? Before even saying ‘I love you?’ And when you had a house!”

“I say we blame Josh. He got you all juiced up with that damn Glee speech.” After they’d reconciled, Evan had given him chapter and verse on his mind-boggling thought processes on that last fateful day.

“He got me feeling guilty, is what he did. That I judged you for lying to Abby. Overcorrecting is one of my special gifts.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Well, while I’m overcorrecting…why don’t we invite her?”

Tommy looked up. “To our wedding?”

“Sure, why not? She can flip a coin whose side she sits on,” Evan said, grinning like the mischievous imp that he was.

“Evan, darling, love of my life, we are not inviting our ex to our wedding.”

He scrunched up his face. “Ew. ‘Our’ ex? Makes it sound like we were in a throuple.”

“Ew, indeed.”

He cocked his head. “I dunno, though. The thought’s kinda sexy.”

“Not to me! No vaginas anywhere near my bedroom. Kinsey 6, remember?”

“Of course, my apologies.”

Tommy looked at his innocent wide-eyed face for a few beats. “You’re still thinking about it, aren’t you?”

“Can I help it if the thought of two people I have found intensely attractive doing sexy things is appealing?”

“Can I help it if the thought of Chris Hemsworth going down on you has gotten me through some lonely nights?”

“Okay, I get the point. Shutting up now.” 

Tommy put a plate of pancakes in front of him. “Your shift okay?”

“Fine. Busy. I’m a bit wired. Do we have time for me to bounce on your dick for a bit before you have to head out?”

“For that, I’ll make time.” He sat down at the table at Evan’s side with his own pancakes. Evan slid a hand over and squeezed his thigh.

“Missed you, though,” he said, chewing.

“I always miss you when you’re on shift,” Tommy said.

Evan looked up at that, meeting his eyes. “Tommy, sometimes I miss you when you get up to get a beer.”

The simplicity, the sincerity of it made his chest tighten a little. He leaned forward, put his fingers under Evan’s chin and pulled him into a soft kiss, just like the first time. “I love you,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too.”

“And we are not inviting my ex-fiancee who is also your ex-girlfriend to our wedding.”

Evan grinned. “Deal.”

[koji-haru]

Time Travel AU Part: 21

The sun had sunk into the horizon twice before Michael could finally see the wooden surface of his desk, the ivory towers of paper that used to observe his work now gone and neatly filed away. Sera was none too pleased with him once he finally returned to Heaven under the veil of night, much too late than he had initially planned. It didn’t help that he didn’t particularly have any acceptable excuse, at least according to Heaven, nor was Michael inclined to lie about his recent exploits. The end result? A steady stream of work that made Michael fully aware of the possible horrors of eternity. Sera wasn’t necessarily upset about him skipping work for over a day, it did make her a little unhappy, but what truly ruffled her feathers was the fact that Michael suddenly went missing without any explanation for an extended period of time. And because Michael could see and admit his own faults, he simply accepted the punishment, given in the form of extra work, handed to him by Sera. 

Click clack click clack. A steady rhythm sounded on Michael’s wooden desk as he tapped his pen on it repeatedly, his mind busy with thoughts speeding past each other. He was contemplating going to Sera’s office and inform her of his finished work and he intended to do afterwards, but another part of him wasn’t particularly on board with that idea. What if she would decide to simply give him more work to do? Considering his schedule was now ‘free’. But then not informing her of anything was what got him in trouble in the first place. Michael pinched the bridge of nose as he let out an exhausted sigh. Damn him for being a little too dutiful; he decided to inform Sera anyway of his now free schedule, and just hoped that two full sunsets were enough of a time for her anger to have cooled down. 

“Come in,” answered Sera after hearing a soft knock on her office door. 

With a click, the door opened ever so slowly, revealing Michael’s sheepish figure one by one. He stood there a little awkwardly for a moment before breaking the uncomfortable silence. “So. I’ve finished all of my work.” A pause. He looked around the office and then back at Sera who had her gaze fixed on the paperwork on her desk. “Just thought I’d let you know.”

“I still can’t believe you have affections for the first man, and he requited,” Sera said as she put her quill and the paper down onto her desk, her gaze unreadable.

“Ah, yes, well– It’s–,” Michael stopped his mumbling, taking a deep breath so that he could formulate his words much better. “We’re testing the waters.” Or well, Adam was. For Michael was resolute about his feelings, having accepted them long ago. The first man, on the other hand, while he seemed to return the archangel’s affections, seemed to still be rather unsure about committing. But that was alright for Michael, he didn’t mind; he could understand why Adam was reluctant, considering his past commitments. That, and Michael was patient, he always would be for Adam.

“You really are siblings, huh?” Sera commented, her face still impassive and unreadable. 

“Sorry?”

“You’re almost as odd as your brother,” Sera clarified.

“Is that a good thing or..?,” Michael asked, unsure how to feel about Sera’s sudden comments. 

“It has its appeal,” answered Sera. “Though I do find it odd that you both fell for the first humans.”

A slight frown formed on Michael’s lips, his brows knitted together, a serious look in his eyes. “Is that what you’re truly angry about?,” he asked, his tone defensive. He wasn’t backing down on this one; he could admit any wrongdoings he might’ve done, but this wasn’t one of them, and he refused to be told otherwise.

Sera smiled lightly. “No, I was mad about you missing without notice, not that.” She sat straighter on her seat, hands clasped together, a soft yet worried look on her face. “I just find it ironic, you two brothers,” she clarified. “Anyway, I’m actually happy for the first man. Humans are made to be social after all, and a companion would do him some good. That, and I was hoping you could finally convince him to ascend to Heaven.”

Michael sighed, somehow feeling even more than before. “I told you already that he’s adamant about staying in the garden.”

“Just consider it. It would do you both good to be able to stay together for longer without having to skip duties,” Sera said, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes painted on her face. 

“Right.” It was clear to Michael that Sera was still unhappy with what he did, so he simply kept his words short, unwilling to tip the scales further. “Well, if there’s nothing else…”

“Oh, go on ahead.” Sera waved him away as she picked up her work again. “At least this time we know of your whereabouts.”

—-

Michael fluttered stutteringly in the sky, looking like he was about to crash, before landing clumsily just a few feet from Adam, who was currently sitting on the grass with Amora laying her head on his lap. He stumbled closer towards the first man with wobbly legs, almost tripping over his own feet as his exhaustion seemed to become heavier and heavier with every movement he made. 

“Oh hey, where have you been?,” Adam asked, a small grin playing on his lips as the archangel continued to lumber towards him, somehow looking even paler than he usually was. “You look like a zombie.”

Once he was near enough, Michael flopped down on his knees, pushing Amora off Adam’s lap before tiredly wrapping his arms around Adam’s waist and shoulder. “What’s a zombie?,” he asked after a moment, his eyes closed as he tried to relax within Adam’s presence.

“Uh.” Adam wasn’t sure how to react to…this. Michael hadn’t been overtly touchy with him before, it was…odd, but that he found himself not disliking it at all. “It’s just something I made up, don’t worry about it,” he waved off, his voice a little stiff from embarrassment. 

“Okay.” Michael wrapped his arms around Adam even tighter, snuggling his face even closer towards Adam’s abdomen, his eyes closed to fully immerse himself in the embrace. The garden’s warm air and serene atmosphere combined with the first man’s scent and presence so close to him worked like a magic greater than any belonging to the angels up in Heaven. Days of exhaustion and tedium sloughing off his skin, his muscles, his bones and down to his very core. A content sigh escaped from his lips as he felt the burden of heavenly work slip away from him. “I missed you,” he said, voice full of sincerity.

A bright red hue quickly spread all over Adam’s face over Michael’s bold and overt display of affection. An uncomfortable heat clung to his cheeks as his heart raced wildly in his chest; he tried his best to frown, to push the mushy feelings down to be kept hidden in a box covered in dirt six feet under, just so he could be annoyed at himself for behaving so greenly. In the end, the only thing he accomplished was to hug back the angel so closely attached to him, rubbing his hand up and down the angel’s back in a soothing manner. A silent reply to Michael’s admittance. 

“It has been quiet these last two days,” he mumbled, though as soon as he said it, he felt like taking it immediately back and then bash his head against the toughest tree he could find in the garden. 

Michael pulled away a little, just so he could gaze upon Adam’s beautifully sculpted face. He could hear and feel the first man’s rapidly beating heart against him, and his face told the entire story – so prettily pink with golden eyes simmering beneath the surface from the warmth Michael caused within him. A proud smile crept on the angel’s lips, happy that he was the one to cause such an honest reaction from the first man. Though it began slowly, one by one, Adam was allowing himself to be more honest with himself in Michael’s presence. For Adam to be willing to share his vulnerabilities, pieces of himself, was something that Michael would forever hold dearly for eternity. 

“W-what are you looking at me like that for?,” asked Adam, getting even redder as Michael held him so tenderly and preciously within the deep blue of his eyes. A gaze so loving he didn’t know what to do with it – it had been so long since someone looked at him this way. 

“Nothing, just appreciating the scene,” answered Michael, his smile growing even wider as he noticed the flush across Adam’s face growing brighter. Though, he supposed he should ease up a bit seeing as how Adam seemed to be ready to– 

As Michael had predicted, an unfinished woven mat was thrown over his face, obscuring his entire vision of the outside world, hearing only Adam’s embarrassed grumble above him. He suppressed the urge to chuckle, not wanting to push his human too much lest he be kicked out of the comfortable position Adam had allowed him to reside in.

“Sorry, sorry,” he apologised, attempting to placate his human’s embarrassed fury, as he pulled the mat off of his face. Gazing once more upon Adam’s still flushed face, he suppressed the urge to do something more. “It’s just that Sera hasn’t been particularly lenient with me lately,” he explained, his head still comfortably resting upon Adam’s lap.

Adam snorted, a little pout on his lips, “Well, maybe you deserved it.”

“I did deserve it a little,” Michael agreed. “The hot drink you taught me about did save me though. What was it called again? Tea?”

“Yup, and I gave you green tea to bring,” Adam confirmed. “You liked it that much?,” he asked, his prior embarrassment quickly fading away at the mention of a new topic.

“I like it a lot, though I found that if I use really hot water, it becomes bitter but also keeps me feeling energetic for longer,” answered Michael. “Which is great. I like the bitterness and it keeps me running for longer. I don’t think I would’ve survived Sera without it.”

Adam paled a little bit. Great, he just introduced caffeine to a workaholic. “How much of the tea leaves do you have left?”

“Oh! I was just about to ask.” Michael fished for the pouch Adam had given him before in his pockets, showing its empty content to the human. “Can I ask for more? The other angels also seem to like it.”

Suddenly, an idea, brighter than any halo, sparked in Adam’s head. “Sure, I made plenty. Bring as much as you like,” he smiled mischievously. If they liked it so much, then Adam was willing to share as much as they liked, and also very much willing to hear news from his insider (Michael) of the interesting consequences of his gift.

Michael beamed at Adam’s answer, believing that his human was just simply so sweet and generous. He would have to repay his generosity in kind one day. 

This was nice. Snuggling up to the centre of his affections, breathing in the relaxing air of the garden of Eden, soaking in the warming rays of the sun as he spent his time away in the close presence of the first man. He felt like he was home. No, it wasn’t the garden that was necessarily home to him, but simply living a life together with Adam. Any time he spent with the first man felt like a perfectly fitting puzzle piece as if he was exactly where he was meant to be.

He looked back up at Adam, who had decided to continue weaving leaves for his craft, unsure if he should ask again knowing what the answer would most likely be. “Maybe I shouldn’t overstay next time.”

“Sera scarred you that badly, huh?,” Adam chuckled, remembering how terrifying the seraphim could be if the right buttons were pushed. He would know, he pushed a lot of buttons.

“Maybe,” Michael replied, a small smile forming on his lips before fading away quickly as he readied his suggestion. “There would be days where I simply could not stay for long or not even visit,” he started. “Wouldn’t those days be lonely for you too?”

Adam stopped the work he was doing to focus his attention back on the angel laying on his lap. A sigh escaped from him, he understood what Michael was hinting at. “The garden can be a little uneventful on my own,” he admitted. “But I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”

A small frown formed on Michael’s previously hopeful face, not so much out of sadness, but out of genuine confusion and curiosity at Adam’s unwavering adherence to the garden. Yes, the garden was paradise precisely made for humans, but surely now that he was the only human in it, Heaven should look rather favourable to him, especially since it actually had other inhabitants in it that were at least at his level of communication and understanding. And as beautiful as the garden of Eden was, it only offered Adam animals as companions. It wasn’t as if Michael didn’t think animals were great companions, Amora was proof otherwise, but to live amongst creatures so far and different from oneself…It would be rather isolating. He didn’t understand Adam’s preference to remain at all.

“That’s alright. I won’t force you to ascend,” Michael said. “But, may I just ask why? I couldn’t help but be curious about your insistence to stay.”

There was a long silence between the two of them with Adam giving thoughts time to properly formulate answers he could give. The reason for his adamant insistence to remain in the garden was obvious to him of course; it was his long lost home, a place he had yearned for all of his first mortal life until the end of his first afterlife. More than a millennia of longing and missing the one place he only felt like he belonged in, the one place where he was the happiest. And even until his second chance at restarting, Eden remained that place for him, only strengthening his bond to it. It wasn’t something he was willing to ever let go of ever again. 

But he couldn’t say all that, so instead, Adam settled for a simple, but true enough answer.

“I just feel like this is where I truly belong.”

Part 20

Part 22

[demonic0angel]

Dpxdc: Danny x Supergirl. Kara and Danny are pining hard for each other. They both want someone stronger than them and believe it's the other but not themselves.

“Who’s the lucky girl?” Jazz teased, gesturing to Danny’s grand and elaborate present of colorful roses, strange alien flowers, and at least a few other plants from space.

“Jazz, she’s the absolute best! She’s so strong and she knows so much about space and she can cut me in half and—” Danny gushed.

Jazz interrupted, “Are those Kryptonian carnations?”

Danny cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah, I asked Clockwork if I could go back in time and pick some flowers.”

Jazz raised an eyebrow, her smile widening. “Wow. Wait until Sam and Tucker hear about this, you’re never going to hear the end of it. Does she like you back?”

Danny blushed. “I don’t know. That’s why I want to give her these flowers and see.”

Jazz cooed, “Aww! Well, it can’t go too badly, right? I’m sure she’ll like it!”

“None of you get ittttt,” Danny whined. “She’s so perfect! She’s strong and brave and lovely and fast and she’s so cool! She’s absolutely amazing, how am I going to even compare to such a perfect being?!”

“Kryptonian carnations and power enough to make you impressed? Don’t tell me… are you crushing on Supergirl?” Jazz gasped. “Oh! Dani’s going to be so happy! She always wanted her as a sister-in-law, but I guess she can have her as a sister-in-law this way too.”

Danny looked at Jazz with a blush. “W-Who said I’m marrying her?! I didn’t even ask her out yet!”

“Puh-lease,” Jazz said, rolling her eyes. “Clockwork almost never lets us go to the past to do anything but fix something. If he’s letting you take flowers from Krypton, he probably has a plan, and you’re most definitely going to be able to ask her out. C’mon, Danny, confidence! Go and ask Supergirl out!”

She then moved to push him out the door. “I heard there was a robbery just half an hour ago! Maybe she’s still out there! Go, go, go!”

Danny quickly transformed and flew off with a quick, “Thanks!” before disappearing to find Supergirl with the bouquet of flowers in his hands.

Jazz shook her head as she watched him go. A sticky note appeared in her hands and she looked down before giving a snort.

‘Wedding date is in 2 years, 10 months, and 21 days. Prepare well. — Clockwork’

[kookiestiddies]

1 | first sightings

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x female reader

Genre: Enemies With Potential | Fluff, Angst & Smut

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: swearing, mild injury, reader is grumpy, mentions of flashing (???), attempted humour, if you see any typos and grammatical errors no u didn’t

A/N: there'll be no fixed schedule for this bcs I have commitment issues rip so good luck to ya'll honestly. happy reading! feel free to lmk your thots :8) 👍🏼

°˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖°

3 years ago...

Fuck my life! 

That’s what you think to yourself as you try to catch your breath; an impossible feat considering the fact that you’re lugging along 3 monstrous and overpriced textbooks. And not to mention the fact that you’re racing across campus because it’s only the first day of your college career and you happened to be late.

Sure, maybe it could be considered your fault because you hit the snooze button too many times over the course of an hour before your class actually started. Maybe you only further sealed your fate by taking too long in the shower. However, in your defence, it should be decreed a social injustice for classes starting earlier than 11 am to be acceptable. Rest and hygiene come first about all else, yup yup. 

You were so focused on reaching your destination that you missed to sound of the bell ringing overhead the campus coffee shop entrance on your side, signalling someone’s rushed exit.

So imagine your surprise when you find that your race to the class that’s 2 minutes away from starting is brought to a halt when you’re suddenly sent flying perpendicular to the direction you were going in by an unseen force only to land harshly on the lawn in front of the coffee shop. 

You see it all happening in slow motion: you’re rapidly reaching the ground but not before you jut out your arms to hopefully prevent your face from getting too intimate with the muddy ground. Your ultra-premium textbooks leave your grasp to land in- 

Oh NO! 

A puddle.

While you sit there in shock, barely processing what just happened, you hear someone swearing nearby from the direction of the coffee shop. You look up towards it to find a pair of doe eyes looking back at you. The owner of said doe eyes is crouching ahead of you; a boy.

Before you can take a good look and process him, he’s already up on his feet and quickly picks up a bag scattered haphazardly next to him. You snap out of trance and call out to him as he makes a move towards the main campus buildings. 

“HEY!”

He hesitantly stops and looks around at you. “What?!” 

What’s with his tone?! 

“What do you meant, What?! You knocked me down! My textbooks are ruined!” you say as you get up haggardly, brushing off the mud on your elbows.

“I’m sorry, but I’m already late for my class, I’ve got to go,” he replies quickly and starts scurrying away. 

“WHAT?!” you yell to his retreating back to no avail. Oh, now you’re mad. 

The boy’s hurriedly retreating figure comes to a sudden halt and turns around, speeding towards you with his hands in his pocket. 

That’s more like it. Get your ass over here and apolog-

“I’m sorry about your textbooks, hope this covers it!” he rushes out and shoves a wad of cash in your hands. He doesn’t wait for your response before he darts back towards the campus building. 

You’re too stunned. You are simply. Too. Stunned.

An angry pout forms on your face as you mull things over and count the cash that he generously thrusted to you. A whole 50 bucks. The sheer audacity of that stupid boy. 

What the heck were you supposed to do with 50 bucks?! Each textbook cost atleast 90 bucks!

You pick up your bag and your now wet, smudged and ruined mammoth of a textbook set with a groan and angrily huff your way towards class, which you are now officially late for.

Imagine meticulously planning out your first day at college from hour-to-hour, only to end up becoming the loser that shows up to class late with a set of muddy textbooks, ruined hair and shockingly dirty clothes.

Operation Have A Positively Impressionable First Day of College: FAILED.

You would continue your run to class if it weren’t for the fact that your knee was sore as a result of you getting to 2nd base with the grass which led to you limping the rest of the way. 

Maybe people are kind, maybe it was the fact that your anger and annoyance were monstrously visible to anyone passing by, but thank fuck, everyone moved away from you as you stormed your way to class. Thanks to your encounter with that fuckhead of a boy earlier, your mood is now at its lowest setting and you simply cannot tolerate anyone else for the rest of the day probably. You curse him under your breath the whole way.

It can’t possibly get any worse, right? Wrong.

When you finally make it to class, you were 4 minutes late and three significant things happened one after the other:

#1 You had to face the embarrassment of 200 pairs of eyes, plus the lecturer’s, witnessing your walk of shame as you cautiously entered the class like a gazelle amongst a pack of lions. 

2# All the seats towards the front were taken up so you had no choice but to find an empty seat towards the back of the class. 

3# By your luck, you realised too late that you were seated right in front of an annoyingly familiar face.

He tried to hide from you. 

You know this because he looked at you straight in the eyes, visibly panicked and lied his head on the table with his hoodie and arms shielding him, pretending to be asleep. 

Tch, pathetic!

Thankfully, the rest of the class went by as smoothly as can be, though you did feel the heat of someone staring at you at the back of your neck. You tried your best to ignore it by forcing all your attention toward the lecture. 

When the end of the class came around, you were quick to exit the class. 

Frankly speaking, you’ve had enough of today.

As you turn down the hallway, you bump into Nayeon, a friend you’d made during the freshmen orientation. 

While you were still deciding on whether you should project a more introverted or extroverted personality onto all the new people you’d be meeting in college, Nayeon made the choice for you by taking up your neighbouring seat and starting a conversation with you about the shitty AC in the hall. In less than an hour, you’d already gotten to know all about her eight exes and how two of them almost gave her STDs and one of them almost gave her a whole baby. You were still contemplating which one would have been worse.

“Y/n! Oh, thank god you’re here! Y/nieee, today has been such a nuisance and it’s barely 12 pm!” she cries while sliding her arm in yours as you both start walking in sync towards the college cafeteria.

Hah! 

“You know, Mercury must be in retrograde or something because my day has been awful so far as well,” you say with a downward tilt of your mouth. 

“Oh? Does that have anything to do with your whole ‘I’m 27 years old with no prospects’ cosplay thing you’ve got going on? Lovin’ the limp by the way. It really adds to the whole vibe” she retorts with a cackle. You can’t help but giggle along with her until you remember the reason for your haggard get up.

You haughtily recount your morning’s incident to her and heave up your textbooks, now reduced to a damp and muddy stack of papers.

“Ew, what was his problem?!” she asks and you giggle at her disgusted look. You’re both quiet as you reach the cafeteria and get some food on trays. “C’mon, the gang’s over there,” Nayeon says as she leads you to a table that seats her friends whom you had also briefly met during orientation. 

You take your seat and set your food on the table along with your ruined textbooks. Hoseok peeks a curious look at them, you notice, but he doesn’t say anything. But his curiosity is abundantly loud, so you answer it for him anyway.

“Some turdball knocked me over this morning on my way to class and they dropped right into a puddle,” you say with a pout. 

“Oh? Does that also explain the Mother Nature cosplay you’ve got going on right now?” he replies with a cheeky grin and reaches out to you to pluck out a piece of grass that you hadn’t realised was in your hair

Geez, this is so embarrassing.

“Uh-huh, totally. It’s avant-garde baby.” you retort which sends the table in a fit of giggles, including Hoseok, whose laughter rings louder than the rest. 

“Also, what’s up with you guys and cosplays? Nayeon made a comment earlier too,” you bring up. Somehow, it causes Jimin to spiral into a choking fit and the rest of the group starts knowingly laughing. 

“Oh, you’re gonna LOVE this!” Chae bellows towards you. 

She’s interrupted by Jimin who whines “Chae, for the love of God, can you please shut up about that? It’s literally not even funny anymore!” 

“Oh yes it fucking is! Go on,” Nayeon urges Chae on.

“It’s an inside joke right. When we were in high school, he took part in a random Joker & Harley Quinn cosplay competition with one of our other friends. This idiot here was Harley and he flashed the whole audience with his ass hanging out from under his skirt the whole time!” 

The whole table hollers with laughter, except for a violently blushing Jimin. In between your giggles, you ask Jimin “Did you guys win though?” The table erupts in another round of laughter as Jimin mutter an angry “No.”

“Oh my god, there’s even a video! Nayeon, where’s that video Jungkook took?” Hoseok yells. 

“STOP!” Jimin yells but it’s too late. 

In lighting speed, Nayeon whips out her phone and shows you what truly is Jimin’s ass hanging out from under a skirt as he prances about the stage in true Harley Quinn fashion. There’s another handsome boy next to him dressed in a Joker costume. “That’s our friend, Taehyung, by the way,” Chae adds. 

“Jesus fuck, do you have that video on standby or something? You pulled it out so fast,” Jimin whines at Nayeon. “I have it saved as my live wallpaper babe,” Nayeon replies and sends a flying kiss towards Jimin which earns her a swear thrown at her face in return.

“Hey, where’s Jungkook? His class should have ended by now, right?” Hoseok asks Chae.  

“Hmm yeah, he was in the same class as Y/n actually. Did you see him?” Chae turns to you. Your attention is still focused on the phone in Nayeon’s hand as you reply, “Sorry, I was a little preoccupied to notice. Besides-,” you lift your head to look at her.

“-I don’t even know what he looks like,” you say with a smile.

“Look out for someone who looks like me, duh. I may be cooler than him, but we’re still twins,” Chae teases.

“Well, speak of the devil, here he comes,” Hoseok says and shifts his attention to look over your shoulder. 

“Hey guys, sorry I’m late. I had to sort something out with my lecturer,” an eerily familiar voice says behind you. 

No. 

Fucking. 

Way. 

You don’t want to turn around.

“We gotta head out soon for the . By the way, say hi to Y/n, she’s watching your video of Tae and Jimin at the comic fest,” Hoseok says with a bright smile. 

“Huh? Hmm, kinda weird that you came over just to watch Jimin hyung’s ass reshaping the world’s seat,” the new guy acknowledges you and you feel him approaching from behind. 

“You’re all horrible,” Jimin says.

The table erupts in a fit of giggles and you suddenly feel a warm hand on your shoulder. 

Fuck.

You have to turn around now. 

You’re turning around.

“Hi, I’m Jung-” he stops halfway and his eyes widen as he realises who you are. 

You fake a wide smile and say “Hi Jungkook. I think we’ve met before,” you say harshly and look at him straight in the eyes. You’re pouring every bit of spite you have crawling around your body into this look. And it seems to pay off with how Jungkook gulps loudly and looks at you with doe eyes.

The whole table has turned to witness your interaction now.

“Oh, so you have? Small world huh,” Chae chirps.

What a small world indeed.

Your moments away from blowing a fuse and cussing him out in front of your friends who are watching your interaction, when the unthinkable happens, too fast to be stopped.

Jungkook immediately gets down on his knees in front of you, brings his palms together and shrieks out, “I’M SORRY!”

(∩｀-´)⊃━☆ﾟ.*･｡ﾟ

[intrepidacious]

❤️ a good time!

tat!bucky’s favorite (or least favorite) thing about twelve

… why not both?

cause and effect

chapter summary: How Bucky fell in love with Twelve: Slowly, and then all at once.

pairing: bucky barnes x time witch!reader

word count: 1.8k

warnings: light angst and negative self talk (this is bucky y'all); some light pining 🤭please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: i've literally had this one in my drafts for about two years and i hadn't actually planned on posting it for a while yet but i did promise distractions. and i missed him. i always do.

this is part of the time after time universe but can be read as a teaser and/or a standalone 💚

Bucky’s relationship with time has been fractured ever since a cold day in January that stole away the life he was headed towards and turned him into the monster underneath a child’s bed.

It’s hard to feel good about the concept of time travel once a lot of your own time has been taken away from you. Even now, there’s only so many things in his life he has control over; like the fact that he’s actively choosing to go back to therapy now, or that he’s able to keep a pet for the first time since he was thirteen years old. Stupid little things, like what kind of food he wants for lunch or whether he should take the stairs or the elevator.

Every single one of these things he’s fought for tooth and nail, clawing his way out of the past and carving out his own space in reality again, struggling, trying, hanging on like he wasn’t able to all those decades ago.

He’s probably still failing.

Some days, clinging to the present is tense and brings him nothing but grief. Sometimes, it feels like he’s going to have to mourn the past forever, whatever might have been; and maybe that’s his sentence.

He wouldn’t have wished it on anyone. He deserves worse.

And then there’s you.

Flickering in and out of time, constantly moving, changing in the time it takes him to blink.

It’s infuriating to him, the way you get to use your powers. The way you don’t need to think about consequences, because they don’t have to be permanent, don’t have to be something you need to live with for the rest of your life. To you, time has always been something that can be changed with a single snap of your fingers. Whatever you do can just as easily be undone.

Once you decide you’ve seen enough, you can just take the scene from the top.

And you’re so stubborn.

You’ve already seen how this goes on if you let it, and so you’re always right, end of story. There’s an ease to your steps because of it, a nonchalance in every movement, and it makes Bucky’s blood boil to see it so plainly.

With all the good that you could do, you choose to do nothing instead; to stay out of the picture entirely and burn through your powers just because you can, wasting them all on things that don’t mean anything.

How many lives could you potentially save?

Instead, you consume disturbing amounts of caffeine and then continue to provide running commentary to the world around you based on things that, to him, never happen at all. "Do this", "don’t do that", "take the other one", or, his absolute favorite, "don’t make me fix that".

Why not? he wants to ask, say, demand. Why not fix all of it?

It takes a while for him to realize that all of your fire means you’re burning from both ends. In fact, it takes Becca.

"You should bring her by sometime," she tells him on a rainy afternoon. "While I’m still alive and kicking."

His little sister just turned ninety-eight. Her kitchen sideboard is filled with black-and-white pictures reminding him of all the things in her life that he missed, arranged in perfect little wooden frames.

"And why would I do that?" Bucky asks, scowling at his cards.

"Because you keep mentioning her," Rebecca says dryly and whisks the cards onto her pile with quick fingers.

"You gotta be kidding me," he groans, noting down her points. "And I don’t."

"Do, too. I don’t remember you being this terrible at this game."

"Because I haven’t caught you when you’re cheating."

"Exactly. It’s embarrassing." She wins the next trick, too. "How’s Tuesday?"

"Am I clairvoyant now?"

"I was thinking lunch."

"No." Finally, he gets a couple of points down. When he glances up at his sister again, she’s looking at him expectantly and he sighs. "What?"

"You can’t fault me for being curious," she says. She has just as many opinions as she did when she was sixteen. Her eyes are still the same, too, the same shade of blue as his and the same glimmer of archness as their mother.

"Don’t you think it’s weird?" Bucky says, finally giving in. "The whole … time thing?"

"I think it’s very weird, but so’s you returning from the dead and kvetching about it." Her eyes narrow when he starts to protest. His mouth closes again. "Besides," she continues, shuffling her hand around, "it doesn’t sound all that fun."

"To have the power to never make mistakes?"

"To have to live through every mistake twice without anyone knowing."

Something about her words strikes him like a match, and so he tilts his head and squints at her and thinks that maybe, just maybe, he’s got it wrong.

That you carry not only your past, but all the futures you’ve seen that never came to be; all the what ifs having turned into answers.

And he thinks, how nice. And then he thinks, how horrifying.

It’s a thought that follows him over the next couple of weeks, and it starts reframing your interactions for him, in a way.

"Will you stop staring at me," you say without looking up from your book.

Honestly, he can’t. He’s still trying to pick up on it, the split second between before and after, that little change of your posture, your hair, your face, that tells him more time has passed for you than it has for him.

It’s more of a feeling than anything else, something right at the back of his mind telling him that something is different if he concentrates on it enough, but he’s never sure what it is. And he doesn’t like that; not one bit.

So Bucky crosses his arms and leans back. "Why?"

A flash of irritation makes your nose twitch, even though you still refuse to meet his eye.

"It’s rude, for one."

"Noted." He waits for the two that never comes. "Anything else?"

And there it is. A blink-and-you-miss-it kind of moment, like the air shifting around you ever so slightly, a certain knowing glint in your eyes when you roll them and get up.

"Annoying!"

He can’t help it. He wonders what your original answer was.

***

Bucky’s relationship with time changes slowly, the deepest cuts carefully mending themselves until looking back doesn’t feel like getting his bones ripped apart anymore, until he looks at you on a cold day in January and realizes he’s fucked.

At first, he hopes that it might be a fluke. A trick of the light, maybe, or seasonal allergies. That’s the reason why his eyes are drawn to your face as soon as he enters a room; the closest source of discomfort always the thing he seeks out first. That’s the reason why his chest constricts like that.

But the truth is, he knows this feeling has been building slowly; he’s just been unwilling to admit it.

Something soft and delicate has started to nestle in that gaping hole inside his chest, unbothered by the walls he’s so carefully built up.

He’d never planned on you.

Fuck, if he’d known in the beginning, he might’ve …

No, he thinks. He wouldn’t have changed anything.

Because you’re too good for him, anyway, and he knows it. Smart and strong and funny and gorgeous and capable of things he’s not sure he’ll ever fully comprehend; and it’s worse than that, because he knows you now.

You’re grouchy in the mornings and you make terrible jokes when you’re nervous and you have a strange feud with his cat and your smile makes him want to put his fist through the wall because what is he supposed to do with any of this?

He’s not made for this dance anymore. That part was taken from him so long ago, and he’s delusional to think that anything or anyone could return it to him after all the bridges he’d been made to cross and burn. Why would someone like him deserve to be given tenderness anymore in this life? Why would anyone want to try?

But that foolish thing blooming inside him feels a lot like hope, despite of what he keeps telling himself.

There’s just something about you that keeps pulling him in, and honestly, he’s tired of fighting it. Then again, the thought of you feeling the same is nothing short of ridiculous.

He’s not the same guy as he used to be. Hell, sometimes he’ll look at old photographs and barely recognize himself.

He remembers life before, and maybe that’s what makes this so hard. He remembers talking to pretty girls, their bright smiles, their soft skin underneath his hands. Good times were easy to come by, even though life was hard in a different way, then. But he was good at it; acting on his feelings alone used to be simple, fun, second-nature almost.

It’s different now.

It used to be different only once before, and look where that’s gotten him.

No, he can’t say anything. Not ever; or not yet, at any rate.

Sometimes, though, Bucky lies awake at night and listens to the rain knocking against his window, and he remembers how much easier falling asleep used to be when he had someone next to him and his mattress didn’t swallow him alive.

He’ll remember the dark circles under your eyes and wish it could be as easy as asking, too. He wonders if there’s a universe you remember where he tries, but he doubts it.

These days, he knows his mind again. And it’s not a burden he wants to share.

You have enough to carry on your own.

Maybe, he thinks as he stares up at the ceiling at three in the morning, maybe there’s still a certain comfort in your powers, in knowing all the possibilities, but it also means constantly losing something that’s real; always mourning the life that isn’t.

He can relate to that.

And maybe that means you can relate to him, too, at least a little bit.

It’s odd, how comforting that last little thought is to him.

When he does eventually fall asleep, you make your way into his dreams, too, sometimes. Those times are the worst.

You’re you, and he’s him, and there’s a sort of "us" in the both of you that doesn’t exist in real life. So when you let him lace his fingers with yours and press your lips to his forehead and it feels easy, that’s usually the point when he wakes up, heart tumbling over itself, right hand tracing the ghost of your touch, always too much, never enough.

He knows it’s not real.

He knows it’s just an indulgence; selfish, really.

The problem is that whatever small hope has decided to settle in his very core is impossible to kill, no matter how much he pushes it down; and he’s not sure he wants to lose it again.

Secretly, silently, serendipitously, you make him have faith in the future again.

But it’s not time for it yet.

if you want to read more about these two (plus a lot of time related shenanigans), read the main series here. or check out the rest of my bucky fics, that's also an option 💚 i don't do tag lists but you can follow @intrepidacious-fics for update notifications

[moowmoon]

ICE CREAM CAKE

— aaron hotchner x fem!reader

— summary: aaron just had two things in mind: his girlfriend and ice cream cake.

— c/w: i think none?

— w/c: 1k

— a/n: hi, again! this one is inspired by the music "ice cream cake" from red velvet! i hope you guys like it and let me know your thoughts! english is not my first language, so forgive me if there's any mistake!

moowmoon playlist

“your heart pounds

you’ll come to me”

— ice cream cake, red velvet

The clock hanging on the wall indicated that it was a little after midnight when Aaron finally left his office, passing through the silent, dimly lit room. It had been a day without a case, so he had given the day off so that all the team members could relax a bit before the next case came along. She and Jack had already gone to bed hours ago, and he could have done the same. However, there was still a big special task awaiting him that early morning - one that he had managed for days to keep secret, even from Jack.

The kitchen was illuminated by a soft light, and the worktops were covered with ingredients that, at that moment, he couldn't remember buying: vanilla ice cream, custard, crushed cookies, and fresh strawberries. Hotch took a deep breath, letting himself relax, something he rarely did. He rolled up his shirtsleeves, pulled aside an empty pot, and started to organize the ingredients for what he hoped would be the perfect surprise.

Every move was calculated, meticulous, as in an interrogation; however, something new dwelt in the midst of his weary gaze, a glimmer of expectation and anxiety. With the patient, careful gestures of someone putting together a puzzle, he assembled layer after layer of the cake, with each addition remembering the little moments he had shared with her - low laughs, exchanged glances, walks in the park with Jack, and the smiles that appeared whenever she offered him a piece of chocolate or a spoonful of ice cream after a long, dark affair.

After a few more minutes, the cake was ready, resting in the freezer like a silent promise, and as he put on the last layer of cream, Hotch felt something rare in himself: a lightness he could hardly explain.

She walked into the kitchen, drawn by the soft smell of fresh strawberries and the occasional noises he made during each step of the recipe — and, if Hotch had to admit it, he was surprised that both she and Jack hadn't woken up yet, he was being quite noisy. Her heart almost stopped when she saw him standing there by the counter with something that looked like a cake covered in a perfect layer of cream and pieces of fruit. He was dressed casually, his shirt still slightly wrinkled after a long day, but the expression on his face was what really surprised her.

Hotch looked relaxed, with his arms folded as he watched her enter — he had heard the bedroom door open — and, even more surprisingly, he was wearing a rare, authentic smile that she hardly ever saw. This wasn't the formal, restrained Aaron Hotchner of everyday life; this was someone closer, someone she felt was only there for her and that she was the only one privileged to see this new face of his.

She stopped, blinking in surprise, with an expression that mixed incredulity and happiness. “You… did this for me?” she asked, her voice soft but with a sincere glint in her eyes.

He shrugged, but the smile remained, now with a charming lightness. “I thought it would be a nice way to end the week,” he replied, his voice soft, but with a sincere twinkle in his eyes.

She approached slowly, her eyes still fixed on the ice cream cake and the man in front of her, trying to take in the moment. Hotch seemed to notice her hesitation and, with a gentle gesture, indicated the chair next to the table, inviting her to sit down. When she did, he slid the cake towards her in an almost ceremonial way, as if delivering more than just a dessert.

He watched her for a moment before speaking, his voice soft, carrying something deep that he rarely let show. “I know I don't usually do things… but I wanted you to know that this is for you.” He paused, her eyes reflecting the surprise and affection she was trying to disguise. “It's not just the cake. It's… a way of saying that I care. More than perhaps I can say with words.”

She felt her chest warm, understanding the meaning of the gesture - each layer of the cake somehow represented a piece of his affection for her. He, who spent his days immersed in the darkness of his work, had brought her something so sweet, almost childlike. It was a respite, a little refuge from everything they had faced together, and proof that he wanted to see her happy, that she had a special place in his heart, even if he rarely confessed it.

Unable to contain her smile, she looked at him with an emotional gleam in her eyes and lightly placed her fingers on his. “Thank you, Aaron… It means so much more to me than you know.” Her voice came out soft, almost a whisper, as she searched for the words to express how much that gesture touched her.

He just nodded, the smile still present, almost shy, but full of a genuine warmth that he rarely showed In silence, he took a spoon and cut off a piece of cake, offering it to her with a slight movement. Without hesitation, she accepted, the sweet, creamy taste melting into her mouth, but what really warmed her heart was the company at her side.

When it was his turn to try the cake, she found herself watching him carefully, noticing the lightness on his face, his eyes shining with an expression that hardly anyone had the chance to see. The kitchen seemed to be filled with a peaceful calm, each of them enjoying more than just dessert; they were sharing a rare and precious moment where words were unnecessary.

Between spoonfuls, smiles and gentle glances emerged, each laden with meaning. It wasn't just an ice cream cake; it was the silent affection, the inexplicable connection between them, something that didn't need to be said out loud. And there, in that simplicity, they felt closer than ever, enveloped in a peace that only existed when they were together. 

[inwumaki]

Still with You— ft. Yuta Okkotsu

Anime: Jujutsu kaisen/jjk

Character/s: Yuta Okkotsu

Synopsis: Yuta getting flashbacks after you two broke up (Angst??)

A/n: I wrote this while listening to Jungkook's Still with you so- (I'm not the best at writing these kinda stuff so I apologize in advance)

날 스치는 그대의 옅은 그 목소리

"Your faint voice that brushes past me"

He could remember it all so clearly, the way your lips moved as you said the words which made his heart stop. The bitter after taste of the recent encounter between you two ate him up from inside.

"Yuta"

"Mhm?"

"I'm sorry..but I cannot do this anymore. I love you but I can't ignore the constant paranoia of you still being in love with Rika."

Was it something he had said? Done? He could swear on his life he would fix the mistakes. He loved you but you refused to listen. He had moved on long ago, did you view him the same as your ex?

"What're you saying...?"

"I'm sorry" You mumbled one last time before leaving.

Yuta swore if you would have atleast given him a minute to react he would got on his knees begging you to stay.

내 이름을 한 번만 더 불러주세요

"Please call my name just one more time"

Yuta could hear your voice of all those times you called him by his nickname 'Yuu'. The times you would whine and complain about how much Gojo had put you through on the missions.

"Yuuuuuu!"

"Yes?"

"Did you know today Gojo-sensei promised to help us with the mission but that jerk left us stranded there."

"How about we get ice cream to make you forget about the day? Will that be good?"

"That sounds more than good."

He always loved when you complained to him even though that's not anything special but to Yuta it was, the fact you would open up to him made him feel loved and important enough. He wished to hear you say his name again the same way.

얼어버린 노을 아래 멈춰 서있지만

"Though I’m standing under the frozen sunset"

Now all he could do is watch you leave. So close yet so far. It hurt him physically to even think he won't be able to do the things he used to with you— going out on dates, cuddling, movie nights to even the dumb small arguments. He missed them he really did. But he had to let you go without a fight. Sometimes he wondered, would you have stayed if he went after you? Or would you have broken off that last pinch of hope, though for him both of it seemed better than silently deluding himself.

그대 향해 한 걸음씩 걸어갈래요

"I will walk towards you, one step at a time"

Still with you.

"I don't know what to do.." Yuta mumbled clenching his fists as his hair hid his teary eyes.

"Try to talk to her..maybe stop doing what made her leave?" Panda replied

"But she refuses to say what's wrong.. how am I going to fix it if she doesn't want to...?"

"Yuta, let me tell something. No one can help you with this, it's your job to figure it out and fix it cause at the end it's you and her not us with her." Maki said with a straight face.

"Or just leave her alone and forget about her, she shouldn't have felt that way if you didn't make mistakes."

He knew, he knew very well that he might have done something, you were never the type to be offended over small things...but he was willing to pinpoint it and heal it. Leaving you and forgetting about you wasn't in the list. He loved you, he would kill for you...die too if needed he really would but how would he explain this to anyone?

"I cannot let it go like that..even if it means it'll take time I'll do everything"

어두운 방 조명 하나 없이

"In the dark room without a single lighting"

익숙해지면 안 되는데

"Though I shouldn’t be used to it"

그게 또 익숙해

"It feels familiar again"

Yuta had been waiting despite the rain infront of your favourite restaurant where they were supposed to have their first proper date. The shirt on his body slowly soaking the tears leaving off the sky. The bouquet of roses drenching in the water. Had you forgotten about him? Or were you in trouble? The restaurant staff who knew he had an reservation were worried and invited him to come inside several cause of the raini Yuta would just mumble a "she'll be here in a few minutes..I'm sure, then we can go in together." But you didn't show up, seconds, minutes turned to hours. When he finally had enough he decided to check up on you–to atleast hand you the roses he got. He got there only to see you standing under an umbrella with someone else, a guy he didn't know. You had seen him and approached him, you were all dressed up in a pretty white dress with your hair done. Yuta assumed you had ditched him for whoever the other guy was and dropped the flowers there while walking off, without a single word. With you yelling at him to listen.

"Yuta-!"

"Yuta.."

"Yuta please just let me explain myself.."

He stopped on his tracks. The rain pouring on both of you, but neither of you cared.

"I'm not mad..but you could've atleast told me. Or maybe you forgot.."

He might say so but the hurt and sour taste of his tone was enough for anyone to see right through.

"Yuta I would never forget about you."

Yuta felt a pair of arms wrapping around his drenched physique. He didn't want to pull away but he did, he refused to be deciceived. He turned around to face her.

"Then who wa-"

He was suddenly cut off by her lips. He was taken aback, their first kiss.

"That was my cousin, my uncle is in the hospital..I needed to go there urgently and I forgot to take my phone..I'm sorry Yuu."

나지막이 들리는 이 에어컨 소리

"This subtle noise from the air conditioner"

이거라도 없으면 나 정말 무너질 것 같아

"If I don’t even have this, I think I’ll break down"

함께 웃고 함께 울고

"Laughing together, crying together"

이 단순한 감정들이

"These simple emotions"

내겐 전부였나봐

"perhaps they were everything to me"

The moments he got to see that smile on your face, the simple times you would end up crying on watching tragic lovestories. Yuta never thought much of it, but only if he knew they'll be what he treasures the most. The simplest and the sweetest days together. He hoped it stayed forever.

"Why're you crying-?!" Yuta panicked

"Romeo...*sniff* Juliet- they deserved so much better-"

Oh so you were just watching a Shakespeare cliché

"You scared me for a second.." Yuta let out a breath of relief and smiled.

언제쯤일까

"When would it be"

다시 그댈 마주한다면

"When I meet you again"

눈을 보고 말할래요

"I’ll look into your eyes and tell you"

보고 싶었어요

" 'I’ve missed you' "

Now Yuta sits on the roof by himself wishing upon the shooting star that maybe he'll get another chance to tell you that he loves you. But you only exist in his thoughts now, leaving him to only imagine you sitting next to him in the cold night and watching the moon as you used to while he stared at you.

[bird-in-the-space]

Echoes of the Unknown

You save Miko from a risky situation and end up losing your patience with her.

Warnings: violence, reader getting annoyed, Miko giving bad name ideas, killing a con, an outburst, some regrets, and making up.

Chapter 13

-------------------------------------

A few days have passed and you have started to get used to your new life. You worked on the hologram projector with Raf, making great progress on it. He taught you more tech stuff and even agreed to teach you a few cybertronian things. Miko started calling you two nerds when you were invested in your little project. When you were not working on the projector, you would be helping Ratchet in the sick bay. He showed you the ropes, and whenever he was done, you would help fix things or clean his tools.

Today, Emily had to go back home to check on things, so you were alone with the kids and the bots. It wasn’t too bad since you had time to get to know them better. 

With Ratchet’s permission to use his tools, you worked on making your prosthetic fingers. It was challenging but with the things you learned and the parts, you had an idea of how to create the joins and make it detachable as you doubted you could modify your own hand without causing any nerve damage. 

You adjusted the finger joints and the straps you used to attach the finger between your two main fingers. You placed the tool down and looked it over, testing its mobility and density. You then grabbed a box and tested how well it helped you hold it. 

“Hey, not bad,” Raf complimented as he watched from the side. 

“Yeah. I guess this makes holding things much easier now. Maybe I could try making a little finger as well,” you said. 

“Not a bad idea, then you five fingers again,” he said.

You then heard someone come from the entrance. It was Bulkhead as he came back from his drive with Miko. The energetic girl stepped out of the passenger seat, allowing the bot to transform into his robot form. 

“What’s up geeks? Got anything interesting going on?” she asked. 

“Nothing much. (Name) managed to make herself a new finger,” Raf said. 

“Cool. Hey, maybe you could make new weapons and stuff? Maybe you could make one of those wrist blades or brass knuckles,” she suggested, throwing punches in the air. “Oh! oh! maybe you could make a cannon to blast cons away,” she said. 

“I just made a new finger. I’m not a weapon engineer,” you shook your head. 

“Oh, come on. Have some fun little?” Miko pestered. 

“By the way, we should come up with a bot name for you,” she said. 

“What’s wrong with my current name?” you asked with a frown. 

“Nothing. It’s just it's a human name. You are a giant robot now. So how about you get a cool robot name!” Miko said.

You groaned as she had been at it for a few days now. It was constantly about being a cool robot and doing cybertronian stuff. You would be lying if you said that you didn’t find it a bit annoying by now. 

“How about… Skullcrusher?” 

“No,” you shook your head. 

“Mauveine,” 

“That’s a color,” you said. 

“Metallica,” she threw in 

“Isn’t that the name of that one metal band?” you frowned. 

“Oh, now I got it. Mirage,” she said. 

“I think I am going to stay with my current name,” you stated. 

“Oh, don’t be so boring,” Miko whined. 

“Sometimes boring is good enough. Deal with it,” you said, taking out your finger. 

A loud beeping came from the main computer. You looked over as Optimus and the other bots checked out what their computer found. 

“The cons are active,” Arcee said. 

“Could be a false alarm,” Bulkhead added. 

“Whatever it is. It is worth investigating. “ Optimus said. 

“Autobots. Transform and roll out,” he said as they opened the ground bridge. They transformed and drove into the green vortex. 

After the ground bridge closed, you tried to get back on your project, but then you noticed someone missing. 

“Where’s Miko?” you asked. 

Ratchet, Raf, and Jack looked around but the girl was nowhere to be seen. 

“She was just here a moment ago,” Jack said. 

You were then reminded of what Jack said about Miko joining the missions despite the dangers. She disappeared right after the bots left through the ground bridge. 

“You don’t think she went after the bots?” you asked, glancing toward the ground bridge. 

“Well, it would not be the first time,” Jack said. 

Ratchet groaned loudly before contacting Optimus and the other bots.

“Optimus. Miko disappeared right after you left. Did she follow you?” he asked. 

“Negative. We are currently engaging the decepticons,” Optimus said. 

“I have eyes on her. Miko! Get to cover!” Bulkhead yelled as you all heard blaster fire in the background. 

You felt worried for Miko’s sake. 

“Scrap! They sound too engaged to get Miko out of there,” Ratchet said. 

“What should we do?” Jack asked. 

You considered your options. Ratchet was pretty much needed at the base. Jack and Raf would be too at risk to go get her. The bots were engaging the enemy and it would be too risky just to wait and hope for the best. There was only one option. 

“I could go get her,” you stood up. 

“Absolutely not,” Ratchet said strictly. 

“I’m not gonna join the fight. I stay hidden, find Miko, and come back,” You explained. 

“Are you sure?” Raf asked. 

“We could wait here and hope nothing happens to her. Besides I’m a robot now, I have the least chance of getting hurt unlike Miko,” you answered. 

You all then looked at Ratchet. He groaned with a sigh. 

“Fine.” he opened the ground bridge. 

“But you better be quick and stay out of harm,” He said as you turned toward the ground bridge. 

“Be careful,” Raf said as you ran into the vortex. 

You jumped out of the ground bridge as it closed behind you. You quickly hid when you saw the bots fighting the cons. It was violent as punches and kicks were thrown at each other. You looked around for the girl. However, you couldn’t see her. 

“Bulkhead! Where’s Miko?!” you called out as he was the nearest. 

“I told her to hide over there!” he pointed at rocks before continuing the fight. 

You quickly sneaked toward the boulders where Miko should be and soon enough, saw her watching the fight. 

“Miko!” you called out. 

“Huh?” Miko looked toward you, but then one of those vehicons noticed her. Your eyes widened in panic. 

“Miko! Get down!” you yelled as you ran toward the vehicon and tackled him to the ground before he could grab the girl. Miko yelped then watched as you started wrestling with the con. 

The vehicon was stunned but struggled hard against you. You groaned as you tried to push him down. He then tried to shoot you with his blaster arm. You tried to push it away but when he fired, you were forced back to avoid getting shot. The vehicon then tried to get up. You tried to think something then remembered you shared a similar body, which meant you should have a blaster arm as well. 

“Come on…” you tried to think of your arm as a weapon, and then a click happened and your arm turned into a blaster. 

“(Name)!” Miko pointed at the vehicon as it prepared to shoot you. 

You aimed and a blast came out of your blaster arm. You were thrown back from the recoil, however, your shot struck the vehicon right in the core, causing it to fall and lay on the ground motionlessly with smoke rising out of it. 

You both stared at the dead con in stunned silence. Your arm turned back to normal and you released a heavy breath. 

“Dude! That was so cool!” Miko said beside you. You frowned and then grabbed her into your hands. 

You ran away from the battlefield, returning to the spot where you first arrived. 

“Ratchet! I got Miko! Bring us back!” you said through the com and he then opened the ground bridge again. You ran into the vortex, away from the battlefield. 

Back at the base, after the ground bridge closed behind you, you placed Miko back on her feet. 

“Are you okay?” Raf asked when he saw you rub your head. 

“I’m fine,” you uttered annoyed. 

“Dude! That was epic! You totally scrapped that con!” Miko said excitedly. 

“You are tougher than you look,” she said. 

You looked at her. “You got to be joking you could have gotten yourself killed!” You said. 

“Well, it’s a good thing you came. You make one awesome bot, and I got some sweet pictures” she said like what just happened wasn’t a big deal. Your patience finally ran out. You had enough of her antics. 

“Are you fucking shitting me right now?!” you snapped. 

“Oh oh,” Jack said, covering Raf’s ears. 

“We were on an active battlefield just now and all you cared about was getting some dumb photos? Do you think this is some kind of a game?” you asked with anger in your tone. 

“Relax. It’s alright now,” Miko said. 

“No! Miko! It’s not!” you stepped toward her, causing her to step back and look at you with a bewildered expression. 

“We could have gotten ourselves killed! I did not want to be there, but one more second, and you would have been a goner for good. No second chances. Like, come on Miko! That was an actual battle zone! You could have actually died there!” you yelled, pointing at the ground bridge from where you came. 

“I…I…” Miko stuttered under her words. 

“How about you actually think with your head once in a while instead of trying to get dumb photos?!” You asked. 

“Okay. Everyone calm down,” Ratchet tried to de-escalate as he stepped forward. 

“(Name). How about you go outside for a moment? Cool yourself down,” he said. 

“For the record, Miko. I find none of this cool. My human body is gone. I can never return to my human life, so how about you stop with the stupid name suggestions,” you marched out of the hangar while Miko looked after you with tears in her eyes. 

“That was… intense,” Jack said. 

“I… I didn’t mean to,” Miko sniffed. 

“Calm down, Miko. Give her some alone time. She’ll come around eventually,” Ratchet said before returning to the monitors. 

Miko dried her eyes and quietly walked to the yellow couch where she continued to sit in silence. Raf and Jack looked at her with worry but did not know if they should try to comfort her after that outburst. 

The bots soon returned to the base after dealing with the cons. Bulkhead quickly walked over to Miko after seeing her. 

“Miko. Are you alright? You didn’t get hurt, now did ya?” he asked. 

“I’m fine,” Miko uttered. Bulkhead immediately noticed the sullen look and tone in her voice. 

“Hey, Miko. What’s wrong? Did something happen?” he asked. 

“Let’s just say… when (Name) brought Miko back, she kinda lost her patience and had an outburst,” Raf explained. 

“Yeah, she did not like the experience and apparently there was a con she had to scrap to save Miko,” Jack said. "I guess she also got annoyed about being a bot," he added.  

“I didn’t mean to make her that upset,” Miko exclaimed. 

Bumblebee beeped something. 

“Understand that (Name) did not become this out of her choice and that her condition is irreversible, which means she can never return to the life she once knew,” Optimus said. 

“Meaning she can’t go home or do human things anymore,” Jack said. 

“Maybe she actually misses being a human,” Raf added. 

“Whatever the case, perhaps giving each other time to think will help you both resolve this issue,” Optimus stated. 

Arcee looked toward Miko before her thoughts came to you. 

At the top of the base, you were sitting at the edge of the cliff, gazing at the view after releasing a few angry tears and thinking the whole thing through. You felt regretful for cursing out on Miko like that. 

“Hey,” 

You looked behind you and saw Arcee walking toward you. 

“Ugh… hey,” you replied, slightly awkwardly.

“I heard you had a blowout with Miko after bringing her back,” she said. 

“Yeah. I lost my patience. I shouldn’t have done that,” you sighed, holding your knee as your other feet hung from the edge. 

“No. I get it. Miko does tend to get herself into dangerous situations,” Arcee said as she sat down beside you. 

“Yeah, but I still shouldn't have blown up on her like that. God. I’m so stupid. I said some pretty nasty stuff to her, “ you said. 

“Don’t beat yourself over that. Miko is just how she is even though she could be more considerate of her own safety, and it’s completely normal to feel the way you did after saving her from a con,” Arcee comforted.  

“I really didn’t think much. When I saw that con trying to grab her, I just ran and tackled the con to the ground,” you explained. 

“It was a close call and her being so careless about it kinda pissed me off,” you said. “Now she probably won’t talk to me after that whole episode,” You uttered sadly. 

“Don’t overthink it. Everyone can get frustrated at times and need to blow up steam. And Miko is just a kid. Kids tend to do reckless things without considering the consequences,” Arcee said. “I doubt she thinks badly of you. You came to make sure she would come back safely and fought a con. Bulkhead already appreciates you for it,” she said. 

You considered her words. “You’re right. But… I think I still need to make up to her in a way,” you said. 

Arcee smiled with a nod. “ You know, you might look like a con, but you’re definitely not one from the inside,” 

You chuckled as you two then gazed at the view before you. 

Back inside the base, you walked up to Miko as she was sketching on the couch. 

“Miko,” you said, catching her attention. 

“I just wanted to say I’m sorry for my outburst earlier. The thing is I’m scared by this whole alien war thing, and I was really worried when that con nearly got you,” you said. 

“I’m sorry too. I know I can get a bit ahead of myself. Thanks for coming to my rescue,” she said. 

“It’s fine. Also… I kinda miss being a human. As a robot, there are now some things I can’t do anymore. Like I can no longer eat my favorite food. I can’t drink any of my favorite drinks, not even something as bland as water. I can’t run my fingers through my hair, and I can barely feel the wind on my face. I can’t even take casual walks outside to clear my head. Those seem like small things, but after a long time, you can’t help but grow to miss them,” you explained. 

 “I— didn’t really think of it that way. I can’t imagine myself never being able to drink my favorite soda again, “ Miko said thoughtfully. 

“I know right? Energon doesn’t really taste much and now it’s the only thing I need to survive. Being a robot might have been cool if it was temporal. However, I’m stuck like this forever,” you said. 

“(Name). I’m sorry,” Miko said. 

“No. it’s okay. There are some positive perks in being a robot,” you said. 

“Like what?” she said curiously. 

“You do not need to worry about getting a driver’s license. You can pretty much now climb and jump from any high places that would have gravely injured you as a human. And… well, you no longer suffer from periods,” you said. 

“Oh yeah, you’re right,” Miko grinned. 

“Periods?” Bulkhead looked confused. 

“What I wanna say is… well… don’t stop being you, but maybe be a bit more considerate of your safety. I’m pretty sure none of us here wants to see you get hurt,” you said. 

“No promises,” Miko teased, making you tilt your head at her. “But I promise to try,” she said. 

You smiled and then glanced at her book, having an idea. 

“You know, Emily has been talking about getting a new look for me. Do you wanna help us out on that?” you asked. 

“Absolutely! I can come up with the most rad colors ever,” Miko said, taking out her pencil and began drawing. She rambled ideas while you just listened, nodding along as she came up with interesting color design ideas. 

[violetwanderer]

Target Practice

Din Djarin x Female Reader

Summary: Reader wants to learn how to shoot, and only Din can teach her. He finds a great way to motivate her to hit the targets

Warnings: Smut, fingering, vaginal sex, creampie, slight breeding kink, size kink, dirty talk, praise kink, shooting

Word Count: 4.4k

Author's Note: It's been a while since I've written a fic, so hopefully this isn't too bad. Also I had to look up some of the gun stuff lol

Do not copy or translate my works

"Will you teach me how to shoot a blaster?"

Din doesn't move from his seat in the cockpit, not even to look at you when you ask the question, but you know he heard you. He doesn't answer either, making you shuffle awkwardly and look down at your feet, feeling embarrassed to ask such a thing.

"Please," you beg, trying not to sound too pathetic. "If I'm going to be traveling with you, I should know how to defend myself, even if I'm just meant to stay on the ship."

You only met the man a few months ago when he came to the shipyard you worked at. The job paid very little, and honestly, not many ships landed there, leaving you stuck in a dead-end job until one fateful day when a Razor Crest landed in front of you and out stepped a Mandalorian looking for extensive repairs. You did the best you could with the limited supplies you had at work, improvising when you didn't have important parts. Thankfully, he was impressed with all the things you fixed, which led to him coming back a few more times and asking you specifically to fix his ship when it was damaged during his bounty hunting trips. After the fourth time, he asked if you would be willing to travel with him and become his mechanic while he tracked down bounties. The pay was much better than what you were receiving on that backwater planet, and it gave you the opportunity to travel the galaxy, so you said yes, even though you didn't even know his name. You only learned it a few weeks ago.

"Fine," Din answers curtly, still not looking back at you, even though the ship is in hyperspace and he doesn't need to pay such close attention to what's in front of him. "Next time we land, I'll teach you to shoot before I go after the quarry."

A smile spreads across your face, and you're glad you didn't have to try and convince him to teach you. Despite his gruff demeanour, Din has been pretty good to you. He's patient when repairs sometimes take a while or you don't have the right parts because it's been a while since you two have landed somewhere that sells them. The only rule he is strict about is his creed. You haven't even seen him without his gloves on, let alone his helmet. It's not a difficult rule to follow, though. He seems to only take it off when he's in his bunk.

Despite not knowing what he looks like, you can't help but feel attracted to him. The beskar armour makes him look large and intimidating, but you don't feel afraid of him. Watching him intimidate others, however, always has your thighs clenching together and wetness pooling in your underwear. This started about two weeks after you began traveling with him, and ever since then you've found yourself growing more and more turned on around him.

“When will we be landing?” You question eagerly, clasping your hands together.

“Soon,” is his only answer. You have gotten used to that, too. Din barely speaks, only relaying information when it's necessary. There's never any small talk with him, which you've learned to live with. Sometimes the silence is nice.

Landing can't come soon enough. You buckle in as Din prepares to drop out of hyperspace, and you see the planet you're going to land on. It appears to be quite green, covered in dense forests, and as you get closer, you can't see many settlements. You have a feeling he will have to travel quite a while to find the bounty while you stay behind and mind the ship. You'll feel safer now that he is going to teach you how to protect yourself with a gun.

Once the ship has landed, you remove your belt, quickly leaving the cockpit with a giddy feeling in your stomach. You've wanted to learn how to shoot a blaster for quite a while, but you didn't have access to any at your old job and you have always been too nervous to ask Din until now. He has plenty of weapons, and you're sure he won't mind you keeping one on your person while he's out of the ship. It would be pretty inconvenient for him to lose his live in mechanic.

You hear him slowly follow you down to the ramp, opening it for you and walking down first to quickly scan the area to make sure it's safe. Once he's satisfied, he turns back to where you're still standing on the ship.

“Wait out here,” he instructs you. “I'll get the blaster and some stuff for you to aim at.”

You nod and descend from the ramp, waiting patiently as he enters the ship and gathers what you will need.

Only two minutes later he returns, carrying a blaster that's smaller than the one he usually carries and some empty cans that the two of you haven't gotten rid of yet. Walking over to a log about 15 feet from where you stand, he lines the cans up on it, evenly spaced out, before returning to your side. He then holds out the blaster for you to take.

“You see this?” He taps a little switch on the side of it. “This is the safety. You turn it on when you're not using the blaster. Understand?”

You nod eagerly, buzzing with excitement and nerves. The weapon doesn't weigh much, but your hands feel weak just holding it.

Once Din has shown you this, he grabs one of your hands in his much larger one, placing it on the gun.

“Keep both hands on it for now,” he tells you, positioning your hands correctly. “It will help you with your aim.”

You try your best to soak up all this information, but your mind keeps slipping to how good his large hands feel over your much smaller ones. It would probably feel even better if he wasn't wearing gloves, but you'll take what you can get.

Din steps back finally once he is satisfied with how you hold the gun and has instructed you on your stance.

“Now, just aim and shoot,” he says, as if it's really that simple. Although for an excellent bounty hunter and fighter, it really is that simple. You're sure he's been doing this for years.

You take a deep breath, looking at the first can that rests on the log, and you slowly pull the trigger. The shot goes way above the can, hitting a tree behind it and leaving a mark on it. The force of the shot nearly makes you drop the weapon, but you manage to keep your grip on it. Your cheeks burn with embarrassment at how bad you did.

“It's fine,” Din states from beside you. “Not everyone hits the target on their first attempt. Try again.”

You line up the shot again, aiming for the second can now. Once again, you pull the trigger and miss the target entirely. Your grip on the gun feels unstable as your hands begin to sweat. You quickly wipe them off your trousers before trying again, this time hitting slightly closer to your target.

You're growing frustrated with your constant failures, especially since Din is watching you intensely, seeing your mess ups each time. You repeat the process three more times before he lets out a sigh of irritation, making you feel humiliated. You must look like a fool to him. What if he thinks you won't be able to protect yourself and won't want to travel with you anymore? You could be a liability if you're unable to fight back and need to rely on him if things go south.

“Stop thinking so hard,” he orders you, approaching you and standing behind you. His hands reach out and move on top of yours, setting your aim right and moving you into the right position. His beskar-covered body is pressed right against yours, with his chest against your back and his hips brushing against your ass. Your breathing stops, feeling every part of him against you, and all you want is for you two to be like this under different circumstances.

“Pay attention.” Din's voice distracts you from letting your thoughts go any further. “We don't have all day.”

You do your best to ignore the feeling of his body against yours and take a deep breath, allowing his hands to guide yours to point the blaster at the target. You pull the trigger and hear a ping as the bullet hits the can, and it falls from the log and hits the ground.

“Good girl,” Din breathes in your ear, making your legs go weak. In an attempt to steady yourself, you lean back against him, but this just makes you more unsteady. He's pressed against you completely now, and you can't help but arch your back slightly, pushing your ass against his hips.

You can feel his bulge pressed against your behind, and it feels so good. Embarrassment burns through your body at what you just did, but before you can try to pull away from him, Din's hands grasp your hips and pull you right against him, his hands keeping you in place as you hear his breathing pick up and feel his cock grow harder in his flight suit.

“Stay right here,” Din hisses, his grip tightening. “If you hit every target, I'll give you exactly what you want, pretty girl.”

Your hands tremble slightly over the grip of the gun with excitement. You've wanted this for so long, and to hear that you're so close to getting it has your pussy soaking your underwear. With everything he has taught you kept in your mind, you aim at the can next to the one you have already shot, pulling the trigger and miraculously hitting it.

Din's hands move up from your hips to just below your breasts, his thumbs brushing against the underneath of them teasingly. You whine desperately, wanting his hands to go further, but clearly he has no intention of moving them.

“Just three more,” he reminds you. “You can do it.”

Once again, you line up the shot and take it, hitting the third can. This one just about knocks it off the log, making you groan quietly in frustration. Din's hands on your body have you completely distracted, your mind focusing too much on his promise to give you what you want if you do well for him.

“Focus,” he reminds you, his hands moving up to gently grasp your breasts before moving back down to your waist, wrapping around your form to keep you against him. You feel your nipples harden when he brushes against your chest, which doesn't help you stay focused at all.

“Come on, you're so close,” Din whispers in your ear, the voice modulator making him sound more intimidating. A shiver runs down your spine.

You repeat the process all over again, taking your time to try and calm yourself down before making the next shot, which thankfully hits the can in the centre this time. You smile gleefully at the sight, then sigh in longing when Din pulls your hips flush against his.

“Just one more, pretty girl,” he mumbles, close enough now that his helmet touches the side of your face.

With every bit of self control you have, you point the gun one more time at the final can and take the shot. By some miracle it hits, even though you can't focus on it anymore. Once the can hits the ground, the blaster is wrenched out of your hand, and you're quickly spun around and lifted. You find yourself being thrown over his shoulder, making you squeal and whine.

“Din,” you gasp as he begins walking back into the ship.

Once inside, he puts you down in front of a crate and immediately starts pushing your jacket off, which you help him with. Once that's gone, he tugs at the hem of your shirt slightly, and you get what he's telling you to do. Soon enough, that's on the floor next to your jacket, and then joined by your boots and trousers, leaving you standing before him in your bra and underwear.

It feels a bit awkward to not be kissing him or touching his bare skin at least, but you know that won't happen. You don't even ask if you can remove some of his armour, worried that he will end this whole thing before it's even started. You're much too pent up to handle him doing that.

“Always knew you were so pretty,” Din breathes, his gloved hands trailing down your curves. Your breathing becomes heavy as he does, and your cunt is soaked now, leaving a wet patch on your underwear.

You feel his fingers begin to undo your bra, and soon it's forgotten on the floor as his hands cup your breasts, thumbs rubbing your hardened nipples. A moan escapes your mouth, and your head tilts back, eyes closing in ecstasy.

“Look at me, pretty girl,” Din tells you. His tone is soft, but it still feels like an order, so you obey him, opening your eyes and looking straight at his visor.

One of Din's hands travels down your body to between your thighs, cupping your sex, causing you to whine and buck your hips into his touch. All too quickly, his hands pull away, and you are about to reach out to grab them again, only to see him tearing off the gloves, revealing his tanned and lightly scarred hands.

Your breath catches in your throat at the sight. It's the most you've ever seen of him, and a part of you can believe how big his hands are even without the gloves. You have always wondered if it's just the armour that makes him look so large, but now you get the feeling that this isn't the case, especially when you look at his clothed cock. You feel tiny compared to him, and that just makes your body yearn for him even more.

Din slowly peels your underwear down your legs, leaving you completely bare in front of him. For a moment you feel bashful, wanting to cover yourself to hide from his intense gaze, but before you can think to do anything, his hands are on your hips, turning you around and pushing you down so you're bent over the crate.

His hands push your thighs open, leaving your glistening cunt exposed for him to see. You hear him let out a soft moan at the sight, and you can't help but smile shyly, happy that you're already pleasing him.

“So pretty and wet already,” Din mumbles, running his fingers through your folds, gathering your wetness. One thick finger circles your tight hole before slowly pushing in, drawing a deep groan out of you. It's only one finger, and it's already stretching you out so much. You have no idea how you'll manage to take his cock.

“It's too big,” you whine pathetically, pressing your face against the cold metal of the crate. Behind you, Din chuckles, curling his finger inside you.

“You can take it,” he encourages you, his tone soft and teasing.

His finger pushes against that sweet spot inside you, making you moan louder than you did before and causing your cunt to clench around his digit.

“Look at you, taking me so well,” Din muses before pushing another finger in and thrusting them both in and out of you quickly, stretching you out for him. You can't help but blush at his praise, feeling your pussy leak even more. The pleasure builds in your stomach, but you're still not quite there. At least, not until you feel his thumb rub your clit in slow, gentle circles.

You're too caught up in the ecstasy of this new move to notice him lining up a third finger until it's pushing into your warm, wet cunt, stretching you out until it hurts a bit. Thankfully, Din moves slowly, being careful with you. His free hand caresses your hip sweetly, soothing your body as it accommodates his thick fingers.

The mix of being stretched out and the feeling of his thumb rubbing your clit pulls an orgasm out of you quickly, your juices soaking his hand in the process.

“Din!” You whimper, your body trembling and shaking on the crate as the aftershocks run through you. You can't do anything but pant and grip the sides of the crate for support.

Din keeps pushing his fingers in and out of you until you whine from the overstimulation, then he pulls away from you entirely, giving you time to breathe. Your cunt clenches around nothing, sensitive but still longing for more, but you're not left desperate for long.

There's a rustling sound behind you, and soon you feel his thick, hard cock pressed against your twitching hole. You open your legs further subconsciously, eager to be full of Din after desiring this for so long. He rubs his cock up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on the tip and slowly driving you mad. You want him inside you, and you can't take anymore teasing.

“Please, Din,” you whine, your words full of desperation. You are truly thankful that Din seems quite willing to indulge you today in anything you ask for.

One hand grasps your hip gently while the other guides his length into your wet pussy, filling you slowly until his hips are flush against yours and his cock is deep inside you, stretching you out much more than his fingers did.

The pain from the sensation takes a little while to get used to, even though it adds to the pleasure you are already feeling. Din, even though he must be just as aroused as you are, waits patiently for you to adjust to his size. In the meantime, both of his large, rough hands caress your hips and waist, giving you comforting squeezes as he waits for you to get comfortable. Soon enough, the pain ebbs away and is replaced with a growing need, which draws out a whine from you and has you pushing your hips back as much as you can, giving him the signal to move.

Din starts off slow, pushing into you gently so you can get used to the feeling, and you're thankful for that. It's been quite a while since you have been with anyone. His hands grip your hips tighter though as he fucks you.

“You're so tight,” Din groans, leaning down to be closer to you. “Even after I stretched you out.”

All you can do is hum in agreement, unable to answer him properly with the pleasure coursing through your body with each thrust of his hips. Another orgasm is already building up inside you, but you know him fucking you isn't enough to make you cum.

Your hand shakily grasps one of his and leads it down to between your legs. It's an awkward position, given that you're pressed against the crate, but Din manages to manoeuvre his hand between the crate and your cunt, pressing two fingers against your clit and rubbing it rough and fast, fucking you faster at the same time.

Groans and moans spill from your mouth, but over that noise you can hear his soft panting, barely detectable, but his modulator is just able to catch it. Something about knowing that you have the same effect on him as he does on you has your cunt tightening around his length, making him groan and drop his head against your back, the cool beskar providing some relief for your hot and sweaty skin.

“You take me so well,” Din grunts through the helmet. “It's like you were made for this.” His words draw another whine from you, and he chuckles. “You like that? You want me to fill you up, pretty girl?” You nod at his words, though you can't even take them in fully, too distracted by how close you are to cumming for him, your body shaking from how sensitive your pussy is with his cock filling you up and his fingers harshly rubbing the little nub between your legs. “You'd look so good with my cum leaking out of you. Bet you'd look even better with your belly full of my child.”

It's those words that finally have you letting go, cumming around his length and crying out with tears in your eyes that soon run down your cheeks. Your body shudders with the intense overstimulation brought on by two orgasms. Din keeps fucking into you, rubbing your clit slower as you spasm around his thick cock.

“Good girl,” he cooes, his hips still snapping into yours. “You feel so good around me.”

All you can do is whine and blush when he praises you. Words have never made you feel so good before, but it isn't surprising that a man you have craved for so long would have you feeling this way. It would be even better if you could feel more of his skin against yours, but you're in no position to complain when he can already make you feel so good like this.

You slowly begin to come down from your high when all of a sudden Din pulls out of you with a hiss, and you want to whine that he should cum inside you. Just as you're about to tell him that you have an implant, however, Din begins to lift you up by your hips and turns you around, making you sit on the crate with your legs spread, your juices leaking out of your cunt onto the surface below you.

“I want you to look at me when I cum inside you,” Din orders you, but despite this, his tone is tender.

You spread your thighs open more as he once again pushes his cock into your wet folds, causing you both to sigh in bliss as he fills you up once again. You look directly at his visor as he starts thrusting again. His pace is fast and rough, as one hand grasps your hip while the other digs into your thigh. Your hands keep gripping the crate as your overstimulated cunt accommodates his thick length.

“Din,” you gasp, feeling sore already, but you don't want him to stop yet, not until he's cum deep inside you. You wrap your legs tightly around him, crossing your ankles to keep him close.

“Gonna fill you up, pretty girl, and you're gonna take it,” Din growls as his thrusts grow sloppy, showing how close he is to his own orgasm.

“Yeah, I'm gonna take it all,” you gasp, keeping your eyes on him.

With that, Din groans as he cums, his cock twitching inside you as it fills you with his seed. He pushes himself flush against you, looking at your face as he pants and groans. You can't see his eyes, but you get the feeling that they're trained on you, watching you bite your lip and gasp as you feel him fill you to the point you're sure that it will leak out when he pulls out.

Din keeps thrusting until he has nothing left to give, and then he stops moving, pulling you close to his beskar-covered body. Even through the armour, you can feel him tremble slightly. Your arms hesitantly rise up to wrap around his shoulders, looking for some comfort after being fucked so good. Din wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you closer.

“That was amazing,” you whisper as you rest your head on his shoulder, appreciating the cold beskar against your warm skin. Din chuckles quietly at your words, squeezing your waist affectionately.

“It was,” he replies, and you get the feeling that he's got a grin on his face.

You stifle a yawn as your body grows tired. Din sees this, and his hands move to your thighs, gripping them tightly as he picks you up. You keep your legs wrapped around his waist and allow him to carry you to the bunks. Surprisingly, he puts you in his bunk instead of yours, slowly pulling out of you and laying you down on the bed. You detach yourself from him, and he pulls away for a few moments, leaving your line of sight.

Din comes back with a wet cloth, gently wiping your thighs and sensitive pussy, drawing a small whine from you due to the stimulation. You can see he tries his best to be softer then, and soon enough you're clean. He proceeds to clean himself up then and fix his flight suit to look presentable once more and puts on his gloves. Following this, Din pulls the blanket over you and pats your thigh comfortingly.

“Get some sleep, little one,” Din cooes to you. “I'm going to go after the bounty. Take care of the place while I'm gone. You know how to defend yourself now.”

You laugh tiredly at that.

“Yes I do, but extra lessons might be nice.” You smirk up at him, rubbing your foot against his groin to tease him. He groans at that, but then chuckles and catches your foot before you can rub it against him anymore.

“I'll make sure you get them.”

[tsuncda]

no, this is so embarrassing, actually, someone burn the loser cringe out of me.

[floccinaucinihilipilificationa]

[dracothedeatheatingcupcake-ao3]

And that’s a wrap for Comic Con 2024! Ha, it was a lot of fun, but I really enjoyed dressing up as Mondo today! I even had a couple people recognize him! And a few others just liked the hair, one of whom asked how long it took me to get my hair like that, which tells me that at least it looks natural enough for people to mistake it as my actual hair, ha.

Overall, Comic Con was cool! On Thursday, I attended a live podcast recording for Braving the Elements, which is an Avatar the Last Airbender podcast hosted by Janet Varney and Dante Bosco (the voices of Korra and Zuko, respectively), and I actually got a trivia question right and I should (hopefully…) get an email from them soon to get a prize for answering the question right. If not… oh well. At least I’ll be featured briefly on the podcast answering trivia correctly, even though I usually suck at trivia, ha.

The rest of the days were a bit more meh, but I still had fun. I won a Pokeball ornament from a Hallmark panel, since I knew how many Squirtles were in the Squirtle Squad, aha. Which leaves my trivia score 2 for 2 at the moment.😅 I also got a free shirt and scarf for the upcoming Yakuza live action show, which was neat. I’ve never played Yakuza, but my brother has, so I was able to give him the shirt at least.

Still, while Comic Con was fun, I’m definitely glad it’s over so I can go home and clean up from my frantic cosplay creating the last several weeks, oof.

Also! On the first day I dressed at Taka, but since I was by myself I only have the one photo my dad was able to quickly take of me before he had to drive off and a quick selfie I took in the car.

[al-luviec]

juvie buddies

[dawnthefluffyduck]

New game interest unlocked

(crow in bottom right belongs to @patchwork-crow-writes)