#i’m losing at therapy dammit

[perhapsiamaplant]

i told my therapist what kind of copium i’ve been smoking recently and instead of being like “well that’s normal” or “that’s better than other things you could be doing” sHE GOT SAD

I SAID “it’s pathetic” AND I DONT THINK SHE DISAGREED LIKE maybe she did and i forgot but STILL LIKE TELL ME MY NOT COMPLETELY UNHEALTHY COPING SKILL IS OKAY AND NOT SAD EVEN IF ITS PATHETIC

[reiding-writing]

Hi 🤠 can I please get a two-for-one deal with your fic Change? Thank you!

ENOUGH — SPENCER REID!

you never swayed on your promise, and six months later you’re still right by his side, for both the good and the bad days.

spencer reid x gn!reader | 1.0k | fluff | 2k book fayre !!

part one.

main masterlist. | event masterlist.

Time has a way of dulling the sharpest edges of pain, and in the six months since that night, Spencer had made strides in his healing.

He was attending therapy regularly, and though he wasn’t anywhere near “fixed,” as he would often put it, he was on the road to becoming someone stronger, someone new.

The jagged pieces of him were slowly smoothing out, but he was still a work in progress—no longer the shattered shell of himself, yet not the Spencer you once knew. He was someone in between, and you’d made peace with that.

It wasn’t easy, though.

The two of you had fallen into a routine, but the tension of that night still lingered in the quiet moments. His outburst, his desperation, the weight of those emotions hadn’t vanished entirely.

Some nights, when you were both curled up on the couch, the silence between you felt too thick, too full of unspoken fears and unresolved feelings.

You’d feel his gaze on you, like he was silently asking for reassurance that you weren’t going to leave—that you were still here, despite everything.

But things were different now.

Spencer didn’t flinch anymore when you reached out to touch him. He didn’t withdraw into himself like he used to, and though the walls he had built were still there, they were weaker, more permeable.

He wasn’t hiding behind them as much anymore, and sometimes, in the right light, you could see the Spencer you first fell in love with peek through—the one who used to get flustered over small things, who wore his heart on his sleeve.

But now, he was sitting across from you, leaning over the chessboard in the middle of your living room, brow furrowed in concentration. It was a Saturday night, and for the first time in a long time, you felt a sense of calm in his presence.

“I think you’re losing your touch, Spence,” you teased, watching as he stared at the board, trying to figure out how to get out of the corner you’d trapped him in.

He smiled, and for a moment, it felt like old times. “I’m just letting you think that. I’ve got a plan.”

You chuckle softly, leaning back in your chair. “Uh-huh. Sure you do.”

Spencer moved his knight, and you could see that glint in his eyes—the one that always appeared when he knew he had the upper hand. “Check.”

“Dammit,” you muttered, scanning the board for a way out. But in reality, you were more focused on Spencer. On the way he looked at the pieces, how his mind worked. How different he seemed now, yet how much he was still trying to be the person you needed him to be.

The game ended soon after, with Spencer winning like always. As he leaned back with a satisfied smile, you couldn’t help but notice how at ease he seemed—his shoulders were no longer hunched, and his posture, while still guarded, was more relaxed. It was progress. Slow, but steady.

“You’ve been quiet tonight,” Spencer said, pulling you from your thoughts. He was watching you intently, the familiar worry creeping back into his expression.

“Just thinking,” you said with a soft smile. You reached across the table, your fingers brushing against his.

It was something you hadn’t done in months—initiate physical contact without hesitation. Spencer noticed it too, the subtle shift in your dynamic, and his eyes softened at the touch.

“About what?” he asked quietly.

“Just about us,” you replied with a soft sigh. “This is nice,”

Spencer’s gaze dropped to the chessboard for a moment, his fingers tracing the edge of one of the pieces absently. “Yeah,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper. “I’m trying…”

“I know you are,” you said, squeezing his hand gently. “And I see it. Every day, I see it.”

There was a pause, and for a moment, you thought he might retreat into himself again, but instead, he met your gaze, his eyes searching yours for something—maybe reassurance, maybe acceptance.

You weren’t sure. But whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because he didn’t look away.

“I still have bad days,” Spencer admitted quietly. “Days where I feel like I’m back in that place. Where I feel… broken.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice. “I know. And I’ll be here, for every one of them. Just like I am on the good days.”

Spencer looked down at your intertwined hands, and for a moment, you thought he might pull away, but instead, he tightened his grip. “I don’t want you to have to carry that burden,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.

“I’m not carrying it alone,” you replied softly. “We’re carrying it together.”

Spencer’s eyes flicked back up to yours, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you saw the walls between you crumble just a little bit more.

There was still so much left unsaid, so much healing left to do, but in that moment, with his hand in yours, you felt hope. Hope that one day, the weight of everything wouldn’t feel so heavy. Hope that Spencer could find peace within himself again.

And as you sat there, in the quiet of your living room, with the remnants of your chess game between you, you knew that no matter what the future held, you weren’t going anywhere.

Because you loved him—every broken, beautiful piece of him.

And that was enough.

[winchesterwild78]

An Unexpected Friendship pt 7

Master List

Characters: Jensen Ackles x Reader, Reader’s daughter, Jensen’s children

Warnings/Trigger Warnings: Language, mention of death, Mention of panic attacks, some angst, SMUT! 

A/N: This is a short story written in collaboration with @cheekygirl2309.

This chapter has Jensen realizing how much he messed up and working on fixing what he broke, with a little help from a sweet little girl. 😀

No disrespect to Jensen or his family. This is a work of fiction and does not depict real life. Written and edited fast-please overlook any errors. 

Minors DNI 18+

The next few days in the house were strained. The kids went to school and I stayed to myself for most of the day. Terri and the other nurse, Angela would alternate coming in and taking care of Jensen. His physical therapy was starting today, so Angela was waiting on the physical therapist downstairs with me.

“Hey, Y/N, how are you doing? This can’t be easy on you.” I looked up from the book I was reading, “I’m okay. My main focus is Jensen getting better. Then we can move on. His kids need him back to his old self.” “You and your little girl do too.” She offered a smile. I just nodded.

The pain in my heart had only grown since that day. Jensen and I hadn’t spoken since. I would wait until Terri or Angela was in the room with him before I’d go in and grab what I needed. I couldn’t look at him. Just hearing his voice broke me. 

Jared and Gen had come by to check on us and offer advice. They knew the gap between Jensen and I was only getting wider. Jared being the mediator he is, tried his best to help repair Jensen and I. 

“Jared, I appreciate everything you’re trying to do. I really do, but Jensen made it clear he blames me for the accident, and he doesn’t want me here. We haven’t slept in the same room since that day. I just have to figure out what to do. Jazzy loves him so much, and I love the kids. I can’t break her heart or theirs’, but I can’t continue to live with someone who is angry with me.” 

Jared pulled me into a big hug, “I’m so sorry, Y/N. You know you and Jazzy are welcome to stay with us if you need to. We know how you feel about going back home.” “I appreciate it, Jared, but I can’t drive a wedge between you and your brother. I love you guys too much to do that.”

As Jared and I talked, Gen went upstairs to check on Jensen. Angela was helping him sit back down when she walked in. 

“Hey Gen. It’s good to see you. Is Jared here too?” Jensen smiled. “Yes he is, but don’t use that smile on me Jensen Ross!” Jensen’s eyes went wide, “Whoa what did I do?” Angela excused herself to give Gen and Jensen some space. “You broke her fucking heart is what you did, Jensen. She’s lonely and so heart broken. She truly believes you blame her for the accident.” 

“Gen, I never said that to her. I don’t blame her.” “You might not have said it, but your actions speak louder than any words. Have you even tried to talk to her?” Jensen just shook his head no. 

“Dammit Jensen, you’re going to lose her and that beautiful little girl.” Jensen’s breath hitched. He knew Gen was telling the truth, but he wasn’t sure how to fix this or if you’d want to fix it.

The conversation with Gen and Jared was two days ago. Jensen had tried to reach out to you through text since you wouldn’t come near the room. He didn’t want to get the kids involved, so he figured he’d text you.

Jensen: Hey sweetheart. Can we talk?

Me: I’m not sure what there is to talk about.

Jensen: Us? How much of an asshole I am. How you have every right to walk away from me, and hate me.

Me: I don’t hate you, Jensen.

Jensen: Well, that’s a start. Can you come to our bedroom so we can talk?

Me: I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m really tired. Maybe we can talk tomorrow.

Jensen: Oh, okay. I’d like that. I love you, Y/N.

Me: Good night, Jensen.

I put my phone down and sobbed. I wanted to run into the room and hold him. Kiss his lips and tell him how much I loved him. I knew he was hurting, but so was I. I was scared of never holding him again, never feeling his love again. 

I sobbed into my pillow. Sleeping down the hall from him was so hard. I craved his touch, I wanted to feel safe enough to sleep, but I couldn’t. Then I heard a soft knock on my door. I wiped my face, sat up and said “come in.” It was Jazzy. 

“Hey baby girl, are you okay?” I asked, trying to hide the tears. “I’m sad mommy.” I pulled her into my lap, “Why are you sad baby?” “Because you’re sad, and Daddy Jensen got hurt.” “Oh sweetie, I’m okay, and Jensen will be okay too. He’s doing great with his healing and he’s starting to walk around more.” “But mommy, you’re not in there with him. You’re in here and you’re so sad. Sad like when daddy died.” 

My breath caught in my throat. I didn’t know she knew I was so sad, I’d only cry at night after I was sure they were asleep. “Oh baby, I’ll be okay. I’m just sad Jensen got hurt and is upset about it. Everything is going to be okay baby.” I kissed her head and smiled, trying to fight the pain away. I carried her back to her bed, gave her Braveheart and kissed her head again.

I went back to the guest room and crawled in the bed. Covering my head with the blanket and burying my face deep in the pillow, I let out a scream and then I just broke. 

Jensen laid in bed, flipping through the photo album I had made for him. He missed me so much, my lips, my hands, my body. He knew he fucked up and it was going to take more than a text to fix this. 

As he put the album away, he heard a soft knock on his door. His heart leaped in his chest. “Come in.” He said softly, but loud enough to be heard. The door slowly opened. Thinking he was about to see me, he was a little taken back when he saw Jazzy. 

“Hey baby girl, are you okay? Mommy isn't here.” She climbed on the bed beside Jensen and snuggled next to him, “I know daddy, she’s in the other room, crying like when my other daddy died. She’s really sad. I hear her cry every night. Are you going to die too?” 

Jensen’s heart broke, hearing that you cried every night, “No baby girl I’m not. I’m okay. Mommy is just sad because I’m hurt and she can’t help me. I promise you I’ll make Mommy’s heart better.” “Okay daddy, I love you. I’m going back to bed now.” “I love you too sweetheart, and thank you for letting me know about mommy.” She nodded and left the room. 

Jensen was determined to get to me. He grabbed his crutches and headed towards the guest room. He lightly knocked on the door waiting for me to answer. I couldn’t hear the door through the blanket, pillow and the sobs. 

He opened the door and saw me, head covered and buried in the pillow, he could hear my sobs. Tears fell from his eyes. It broke him to see me so broken, knowing he caused it. He walked to the side of the bed and sat down, lightly touching my back. 

I shot up and looked at him. “Jensen, what are you doing here?” I wiped my face, trying to hide the fact that I had been crying. He lifted my chin with his hand, “Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t blame you for anything. I fucked up. I took it out on one of the most important people to me, and now I’ve lost you.”

I looked at Jensen, I could see the regret and sadness in his eyes. “Jensen, you haven’t lost me, but you have to talk to me. We won’t make it if you don’t open up to me and talk to me. Why did you take it out on me? If you don’t blame me, then what was it?”

Jensen took a deep breath, “The day I got hurt I had been so distracted. All I wanted to do was be home with you and the kids. When Dee and I first started dating, we acted in the same town and didn’t have children, so being apart wasn’t an issue. After JJ was born it started to get harder, but we made it work. When you and Jazzy came into our lives, I never wanted to leave your side. Especially after everything you two had been through.”

“After I talked to you and you told me about Jazzy I got in my head. Thinking about how lonely she must be feeling and how she’d already lost one daddy and I was sure she was feeling like I left her too. I hated myself for making her feel that way.” I touched Jensen’s arm, “Jensen, she’s okay. I promise.” 

“What about her mommy?” His green eyes, full of regret, looked deeply into mine. “I’m getting there.” My breath hitched, it was hard to look him in his eyes. I swallowed hard, being this close to him I could feel his body heat. My heart rate picked up. Then his hand brushed against my cheek. I leaned into his touch. It had been too long since I felt him. 

Instinctively I leaned closer to him. I could feel his hot breath mixing with mine. “Jensen..” “Y/N..” My lips crashed against his in a kiss that was full of need, regret and love. Oh so much love. His hands tangled into my hair as we deepened the kiss. The pain, sorrow and anger from the past few days was slowly starting to melt away. 

When we finally pulled away from each other, our chests were rising and falling quickly taking in air. “I am so sorry, sweetheart. I never should have taken anything out on you. You and the kids are everything to me. I’d be lost without you five. Please baby, don’t leave me, don’t leave us.” 

“Jensen, you can’t do that to me. You can’t push me away when things get bad. You have to talk to me, if we’re going to make it, we have to deal with things together.” 

“I promise baby, I will never push you away again. I love you sweetheart, so much. I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll still have me.” 

I placed my hand on his chest, “Jensen, I love you so much. These past few days have been horrible without you. I hated this distance between us.” He placed his hand on mine, “Then let’s go to our room and go to bed baby.”

I nodded as I helped Jensen stand and we walked back to our room. Once in the room, Jensen closed the door and I helped him back to the bed. He set his crutches to the side, and I slid in the bed. 

Jensen offered me his arm, and I scooted towards him, laying my head on his chest. He kissed the top of my head. “God I love you so much. I can’t believe I almost lost you. I’m so fucking foolish.” 

“Jensen, what really  happened on set? I know you well enough to know what we talked about before didn’t distract you that much.” Jensen sighed, “Well the scene I was shooting involved me saving a little girl about Jazzy’s age. Homelander was using her as bait to get to her parents. He killed her father and the little girl was crying out for her daddy. I had to rescue her, and when I started to grab her all I could think about was Jazzy and how I wanted to protect her and you from Robert. I started to have a panic attack and felt dizzy, lost my balance and fell. I was so embarrassed.” 

“Jensen, having a panic attack isn’t something to be embarrassed about. I’m sorry that scene triggered you and caused you so much pain. We are safe, Jensen. Safe because we have you. I hope you know that little girl in the other room sees you as her daddy. She feels safe with you, with your children. I see you as my partner, my love, my forever, my home. I love you so much Jensen, nothing will ever change that. You saved us not only from Robert, but from our empty life.”

Tears pricked Jensen’s eyes, and he leaned in and placed a soft kiss on my lips. “I see you as my love, my forever, my home too. I see Jazzy as my daughter, you both fit perfectly here with us. I know the road that led us together was paved with heartache and loss, but I am so glad I have both of you.” 

I let out a deep sigh. “Baby, what’s wrong?” Jensen asked softly as he held me tight. “I was so scared seeing you in that hospital. It brought back all those buried feelings from when I lost Joshua. I was so scared I was going to lose you too. Then I’d have to go home and tell our babies you weren’t coming home. I didn’t know how I was going to survive that.” 

Jensen kissed me and pulled me tightly. “I’m okay, baby. I promise you won’t have to have that conversation with them.” 

I smiled and relaxed against him. “Oh, Y/N, can we get rid of the nurses now? They are great, but do I really need a nurse when I have you?” “Maybe. You don’t like it when Terri or Angela give you a bath?” I giggled. “You know what, no.” He laughed. “The only woman I want to see all of this is you, my love.” 

“Okay, I’ll call the agency tomorrow. Besides with you doing physical therapy you should be back moving around by yourself soon. I think we can tell them goodbye if you’re sure.” 

“Oh yes, I’m positive.” He kissed me again. “Hey sweetheart, do you think tomorrow you can help me take a shower?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “I’d love to, now let’s go to sleep.” 

“Good night sweetheart, I love you.” “Good night, Jens. I love you too.” We kissed again and then I fell into a peaceful sleep, wrapped in his arms. 

The next morning when I woke up I woke up with Jensen’s strong arms still wrapped around me. I snuggled closer to him and nudged him awake. “Jens, I need to get up and get the kids ready for school.” “Just five more minutes, please.” He said in a gruff voice, pulling me closer to him. 

About an hour later I was heading out the door with the kids to get them to school. Jensen was up and doing his physical therapy. He had a doctor’s appointment later in the afternoon, so he wanted to shower and be ready. 

When I got back home his physical therapist was getting ready to leave. I stopped him to check on Jensen’s progress. He told me Jensen was doing really well and he thought Jensen would be released back to work in another week or two. He just wouldn’t be able to do any stunts for another few months. 

Walking into our shared room I saw Jensen sitting on the bed without his shirt on. I bit my lip. God he was a gorgeous man, even covered in sweat from his workout. “You ready for your shower, baby?’

“More than ready.” He smiled. I put the plastic over his cast and started the water for him. He had a towel wrapped around his hips that left nothing to the imagination. My thighs clenched together. 

Seeing Jensen practically naked had my body reacting in ways that even made me blush. 

Jensen smirked, “Like what you see, darlin’?” 

I bit my lip, “God yes.” I let out a breath. Jensen pulled me closer and kissed me deeply. Biting my lower lip as he pulled back. 

I set up the shower seat for him. I knew it was easier for him to navigate the shower sitting down. I helped him in and handed him the showerhead. His bottom lip poked out in a pout. I chuckled, “What’s wrong?” “I thought you were going to help me.” “Jens, in order for me to help you I have to get in the shower, and I have my clothes on.” Jensen smirked, “So take them off.” 

I could see his length growing and my desire building. I slowly started to remove my clothes. My heart beating wildly in my chest. 

With my clothes off I climbed in the shower with Jensen. His eyes scanned my body and I blushed. “God you’re gorgeous, baby. Come ‘ere.” He pulled me close to him and I stood between his legs. His length was rock hard as it pressed against my thigh.

Jensen pulled my lips to his and kissed me. His hand snaked up my thighs and fingers went in between my folds. He smirked against my lips feeling how wet I was. I gasped as his fingers slid inside me, setting a rhythmic pace as he hooked his fingers up. 

My hips are moving in tandem with him. My hands rested on his shoulders as I began to give into the pleasure that was moving through my body. It had been so long since he touched me and I was embarrassed I was already close. 

I bit my lip to stifle the moan, “Jens, oh fuck, I’m close.” His fingers hooked up and he started rubbing my clit, “Let go for me baby.” His lips attached to my nipples, and he sucked hard. I screamed in pleasure. “Oh fuck, Jensen! I’m cumming.” My head fell backwards as his hands continued to work their magic. 

My legs began to shake and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take. “Jensen, I need you.” I breathed out. Jensen pumped his length a few times and I straddled him, taking every inch inside. I placed my hands on his shoulders to help steady myself. As Jensen adjusted and pushed further inside we both moaned. 

“God, you feel so good baby.” Jensen’s head laid in the crook of my neck. I began to move my hips and grind down on him. “Yes, baby! Keep doing that.” He kissed my lips in a deep, passionate kiss. 

I felt I needed more leverage so I got up, pulling a groan from him, then I sat with my back against his chest. I took his length in hand and guided him in. My legs placed firmly on the ground in between his. I used his thighs to steady my hands as I continued to bounce up and down. Each bounce pulled Jensen closer to his release. 

“Fuck! That feels so good, Y/N. Don’t stop, oh fuck! I’m gonna cum.” Jensen grabbed my hips and with a grunt I felt his load shooting inside me. His body trembling under mine as he filled me up. 

When he was done I stood up, cleaned myself and him up, and turned off the water. Jensen stood with my help, wrapped his arms around me and kissed me deeply. “That was amazing, baby. It’s been far too long.” I kissed his lips, “Yes it was, and yes it has been.” 

“Best shower sex I’ve ever had.” Jensen chuckled. “I’m glad, it definitely was for me too.” 

After we got dressed, Jensen pulled me in for a kiss. “I love you, Y/N. Thank you for not giving up on me, on us.” I lightly touched his chest, “Jensen, I will always fight for you, for us. I love you too.”

We left our shared room together, heading downstairs to leave for Jensen’s appointment. No matter what the doctor said today, I know we both will tackle it together. 

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[thatsmzbitchtoyou]

Emerald Hallow FINAL Chapter 8

Summary: Steve Rogers wants to move on.  He wants to forget Peggy, and dive into the 21st century.  But this man of the past doesn’t know how to navigate being an Alpha in a modern world of skittish Omegas.  He prides himself on his self control, never wanting to harm or scare them, until something just smells too damn good…and he’s not the only one who notices.  

**plus size reader 

Warnings: abo!dynamics, smutty smut smut, name calling, eventual threesome, voyeurism, rough sex

Previous chapter

“Hey you,” Bucky greeted Steve in the conference room he’d been holed up in for the past week.

“Hey,” Steve smiled as he stood.  He hugged Bucky and then cupped his face in his hands and kissed him.  Bucky smiled against him as his hands wrapped around his back, giving him a squeeze.  Steve’s thumbs brushed along Bucky’s cheekbones as he pulled away.  “You good?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bucky sighed, rubbing his nose along Steve’s nose.  “Just ready to go home.”

“Me, too,” Steve said.  He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his phone.  He hadn’t checked it all week, since all his focus was on the mission and all communication went through separate phones.  He checked his messages and then froze.  “Shit.”

“What?” Bucky asked, fishing his personal phone out of his bag.

“Y/N’s in heat,” Steve breathed.

Bucky’s head whipped to look at him.  “Fuck…” He quickly grabbed his things and headed towards the door.  “Let’s go.”  Steve followed him out.  When they got in the car Bucky drove, focusing solely on getting home as fast as possible.  “When did she text?”

Steve looked at the message again.  “Yesterday.  About 11 p.m.”

“Dammit,” Bucky said gruffly.  “She’s been alone for almost a full day.”

Steve nodded, looking at the road ahead.  He wanted to get home, make sure she was okay, but was feeling a lot of hesitation.  He had not had sex with her since his rut a couple of months before, feeling scared of what he was capable of and not wanting to hurt her again.  The three of them had done some group therapy to try to work past it, but now he didn’t really have a choice.  His mate needed him, and he was going to have to help her through it.  

The second they opened the door to the apartment they were hit with her scent.  It was all-encompassing, potent, and Bucky let out a low groan as he inhaled deeply.  Steve held back, letting Bucky lead the way to the bedroom.  They were met with the sight of Y/N on the bed, barely covered by their shirts and the blankets in her nest.  She was sweaty, her cheeks were tear stained, her hair a haphazard mess on the bed around her.  When Bucky entered the room her body responded immediately to the Alpha.

“Buck…Steve…” she whispered hoarsely.  A cramp wracked through her body, making her stiffen and cry out.  

“Omega,” Bucky quickly walked over to the bed, shedding his clothes and his boots.  “We’re here.  I’m so sorry we didn’t see your message till I got back just now.”

“I understand, it’s okay–ungh!” Y/N whined.  She reached for Bucky as he crawled up the bed toward her and settled next to her.  He climbed behind her and held her close as he nosed her scent gland at her neck and started licking and sucking at it to help soothe her.  She sighed then looked at Steve who was still standing at the doorway.  “Steve?”

Steve was breathing heavily.  Her heat was enveloping him, his Alpha instincts screaming at him to take care of her, but he was still frozen.  “I…I don’t…” he stammered.  He was afraid, not wanting to lose control of himself again.  What if her heat triggered an early rut?  What if he got overwhelmed and took it too far again?  He didn’t want to hurt her.

“Steve,” Y/N slightly sat up.  She held a hand out to him, and she gave off a scent that made his shoulders slump and his eyes slowly close.  It was calming, reassuring, her way of saying she was safe with him.  “My Alpha.”

Steve shuddered at the intonation in her voice, the feeling washing over him giving him the courage to take that first step toward her.  He slowly removed his clothes and shoes and crawled up the bed to her.  He settled his face into her outstretched hand, nuzzling her palm and kissing it lightly as her fingers softly scratched his beard.  He sniffed her scent at her wrist and started kissing up her arm.  When he reached her face he looked at her, carefully searching her face for any hesitation.  “I don’t want to hurt you again,” he muttered.

“You won’t,” Y/N whispered back as she held his face.  Bucky behind her nodded as he looked at Steve.  He reached a hand out and squeezed Steve’s bicep reassuringly.  

Steve’s eyes fluttered shut then he nodded.  He pushed forward and kissed her gently.  They had kissed since his feral incident but only ever short pecks, so as he let himself kiss her longer he melted into it, pulling his body flush to hers.  She enveloped him in her arms as she kissed him, deepening it and moaning against his mouth.  Bucky snuck his hands between them and palmed her breasts, tweaking her nipples.  She arched her back so her butt pushed into his crotch, his cock hardening as it rubbed between her buttcheeks.  She reached one hand back and ran her fingers through Bucky’s hair as he bucked his hips against her ass.

Steve’s hand moved down and split her legs apart, making her leg hook back around Bucky’s leg.  He started palming her pussy, rubbing his fingers between her lower lips.  She was already wet from how much she had tried taking care of herself, her slick sticky on her thighs.  A fresh gush oozed from her, coating his fingers.  His thumb started rubbing against her clit while his long fingers eased into her.  Y/N moaned, her hips bucking against his hand.

“So pretty, honey,” Bucky groaned into her ear.  “Smell so good.  We’ll take good care of you.”  He pushed Steve’s thumb away and started flicking her clit with his metal finger as Steve thrust his fingers in and out of her.  

Y/N finally broke the kiss with Steve to gasp, her fingers digging into Bucky’s hair and her arm tightening around Steve’s shoulders.  “Oh fuck!” she breathed.

“That’s it, love,” Steve said, watching his fingers disappear in her.  “You’re doing so good.  Our pretty baby.”  Bucky’s finger sped up and Steve’s fingers curled deep inside her, fucking her fast with them.  Y/N grunted and stiffened, cumming hard against them, her slick covering everyone’s hips.

“Holy shit,” Bucky moaned as he watched her.  He continued flicking her clit until she twisted her hips away and he brought his hand to his mouth, licking her off of his fingers.  “Who do you want first, honey?”  

“I don’t care, just please fill me!” Y/N said, her hips still shaking.  “I can’t wait any longer, please!”  She was begging, something that neither of them had heard or expected to hear from her.  

Bucky and Steve looked at each other, having an unspoken conversation.  Steve nodded then wrapped her leg that was around Bucky back to him and over his hip.  He lined his cock up with her and swiped it through her lips, then slowly started pushing into her.  Y/N wrenched her head back into Bucky’s chest, gasping for air at the delicious feeling of being full and stretching around him.  She’d been denied him for too long.  She reached her hand back and started stroking Bucky’s cock firmly.  He bucked his hips against her ass again, burying his face into her neck.

As Steve fucked her he could feel her pussy getting even more wet than usual.  She was rolling her hips into him just as much as he was rolling his into hers, and a frown painted her lips.  “I need more…more…”

“What do you want, love?”  Steve asked, massaging her thigh over his hip.  

“Both of you, in me…please?  I wanna try…” she groaned as Bucky’s cock slipped between her legs, slightly rubbing against Steve’s cock as he rutted into her.  

“That–mmh, that’ll be too much for you, honey,” Bucky gasped at her request.  “Don’t wanna hurt you.”

“You won’t…please,” she pleaded, looking back at him.

Bucky looked at Steve again, who stopped moving his hips.  Bucky moved her leg back over his hip.  Steve didn’t move as Bucky pumped himself a few times before prodding the tip at her entrance carefully.  He watched her face warily as he started to push in.  Y/N’s mouth dropped open, her eyebrows furrowed as he stretched her further.  Her pussy opened for him, her heat making her slick work to his advantage.  Bucky’s face pinched as he pushed himself in, the tightness making him question his stamina.  Steve heaved a heavy breath at the increased tightness and the feeling of Bucky’s cock against his own, each veiny slide causing his eyes to roll back in his head.

“Jesus Christ, Buck, you feel so good,” Steve moaned as he watched the two of them be swallowed by her pussy.

“You okay, honey?” Bucky asked once he was fully seated inside her.

Y/N was shaking, a jittery excitement coming through her scent.  “Fuck yes, oh God.  Fuck me!” she cried as one hand grabbed Bucky’s ass behind her and the other scratched Steve’s chest, her nails against his nipple making him rut into her.

“Oh my god,” Steve moaned.  He started to do smaller thrusts into her while Bucky did bigger ones behind.  The delicious stretch and slide was already putting him on the brink of cumming too soon.

“God fucking dammit,” Bucky yelped.  A deep growl reverberated through his chest into Y/N’s back and she shivered.  

Y/N was nearly lost to her pleasure.  Steve recognized the look on her face from his rut months before, but it didn’t scare him this time.  “Look at her Buck,” he said as he kissed her forehead.  

Bucky twisted himself so he could get a look at her face.  When he did he whimpered.  “Is she…?”

“Cock drunk,” Steve groaned as he picked up the pace.  “Feel good love?  We’re filling you so perfectly.  God you’re so fucking hot,” he said.  “Gonna take both knots, huh?”

Y/N frantically nodded, her breathing erratic as her body jiggled between them.  “Made for us,” Bucky said quietly.  Tears started streaming down her cheeks as she shrieked from a particularly hard thrust from him.  Steve reached his hand down and flicked her clit fast then kissed Bucky hard.  Y/N’s face was scrunched against Steve’s chest and she started licking at his nipple.  

“FUCK!  I’m gonna cum!” Steve blurted out against Bucky’s cheek.  He flicked her clit faster and Y/N stiffened, screaming as her orgasm zapped through her.  Her pussy squeezed them so tight that they both roared, Bucky into her ear and Steve into her hair.  Their knots inflated fully and stuck her to them, causing another rush through her and she shook against them as she came.  They filled her, Bucky whimpering and Steve moaning loudly.

As the collective orgasm faded they all panted, a messy heap of limbs on the bed.  Bucky huffed a laugh and leaned over to kiss at the tears he could reach on her face.  “Wow,” he breathed.  He nuzzled into her neck where his bond mark was and scented her again.  “Sweet honey, you did so good.”

“Pretty baby,” Steve murmured.  “Taking both of us.  That’s new,” he shuffled carefully so as not to pull at where they were connected for a while.  “You–” he looked down to see Y/N unresponsive.  “Y/N?”

She barely responded, her head lifting slightly before falling back to where it was.  “Oh God, we fucked her to death,” Bucky smiled.  

“Fucked till she passed out, poor thing,” Steve chuckled.  “Sleep, love.”

Y/N snuggled closer into his chest, her hand intertwining with Bucky’s that was still holding her breast.  They both looked at her lovingly.  Bucky kissed her ear and whispered, “Love you, honey.”  He then looked up at Steve.  “Love you.”

“I love you,” he whispered back, then down to Y/N, “love you, Omega.”

**I hope y'all liked this one! Again, I'm not a big Stucky fan, so this was an attempt at a threesome dynamic with rougher elements. Let me know what you thought. Thanks for all the likes, comments, reblogs and follows! If you have any requests or ideas, let me know. LOVE YOU ALL!

[ohtobeleah]

Gift of The Gab // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: Throat Cancer. It’s never the way Rooster thought he’d go out. But when he does—he gets to give Jake a piece of his mind.

Warnings: Throat Cancer. Mentions of suicide. Mentions of death. Bradley Bradshaw x Platonic!reader. Afterlife lore. Death.

Word Count: 2.1k

Author Note: Day Seven of Whumptober. Prompt I chose: Flatline. Thank you to @ailesswhumptober for the prompt list. This is also apart of the Life After Death Series

Bruises Masterlist | Whumptober Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Name: Bradley Bradshaw. Age: 60. Cause of Death: Aggressive Throat Cancer.  

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***

“Get me a crash cart in here!!” There are distinct differences between male and female brains. Female brains tend to have a larger hippocampus, which usually makes them better at retention and memory. “He’s coding!” 

“Jesus what the hell happened here?” Male brains however, have a bigger parietal cortex, which helps when fending off an attack. Male brains confront challenges differently than female brains. Women are hardwired to communicate with language, detail, empathy. 

Men? Not so much. 

“He was fine five seconds ago! Dammit he’s flatlining.” But that doesn’t mean they aren’t any less capable of emotion. They can talk about their feelings. It’s just that….. 

Most of the time—they’d really rather not. 

***~***~***~****~***

It wasn’t uncommon for Bradley Bradshaw to wake up in an unknown environment. Over the years he’d made quite the reputation for himself amongst the young, dumb and hopelessly ignorant badge bunnies that would saunter into the Hard Deck. He never saw a reason to settle down, find the love of his life, create a family, grow old with someone. Everyone Bradley Bradshaw had ever cared to care about had left him in some way shape or form. 

But a name Rooster never thought would be added to that ever growing list of people who had left him behind, was Jake fucking Seresin. 

“Fuck—“ Bradley groaned as he rolled over onto his back, he could feel the draft coming up between his legs as he did. The hospital gown that was tied together in the back by three little bows did nothing to keep his broad shoulders, back, and ass covered. 

Across the way—Jake was busy in the horse pen trying his best to train one of the wild brumbies that hung around more often than not. He’d been trying for a few days. It wasn’t easy, but it was honest work that kept his mind at ease. 

“Easy boy—easy.” Jake cooed as he approached the gentle giant that had become used to his presence. “I’m just here to help.” He mumbled as he approached the horse he affectionately referred to as Simon the stallion. “We’re just gonna hang out.” 

Bradley sat up with a groan, he could feel the air in his lungs that he hadn’t been able to feel in what felt like an eternity. When he reached up to touch the port that he’d had in his neck for months to find that it was gone—Bradley couldn’t have been more confused if he tried to be. 

Where was he? Why did he feel thirty years younger? Why was he not in his hospital room with the blonde nurse he really liked? And—hold on a minute….is that? Is that Jake fucking Seresin? 

Bradley would never forget the day he walked into Jake's home and found him unresponsive. Seeing one of his closest friends lying there without conscious thought. It was one of the worst days of his life, nestled between losing his mum and dad. Jake's death affected everyone in all sorts of ways that couldn’t begin to be unpacked in a far too expensive therapy session. 

So—as a long drawn out beep rang out in Rooster's mind, the sound of his heart monitor flatlining, he stood and made strides to where Jake stood trying to gain the horse's trust. Ass on display and all. 

He never spoke to anyone ever about Jakes suicide, he never spoke about how it made him feel or acknowledged any of the trauma that came alone with seeing one of his best friends dead in his bedroom. Bradley thought with time Jake would be alright, he didn’t know how much he was truly suffering because Jake never spoke about it. He never spoke about your death and how you died. He never spoke to anyone besides himself in the depths of the night. 

Where no one could see just how much he missed you. 

Jake saw the man he’d left behind all those years ago in favour of reuniting with the love of his life coming towards him like a brick shit house. Jake couldn’t say he regretted doing what he did though—but he missed Bradley, every day. They were close, but he wasn’t you. 

“Shit—“ This was the reunion Jake had been dreading the most. “Sorry pal, looks like our session’s just been cut short.” It was only as Jake was jumping over the wooden fence that Bradley took off into an all out sprint in Jake's direction. “Bradshaw! What the hell—Oof—“ 

“YOU MOTHER FUCKER!” It was as painful as it was laced in spiteful anger. A rage that had burned in the depths of Bradley Bradshaw’s heart for years and years and years. He didn’t look a day older than when Jake had last seen the mustache clad aviator. “WHY DID YOU DO THAT? HUH?” Rooster laid as many punches as he could get in into the friend he hadn’t seen in years—getting out all his built up aggression. 

Maybe it was the past that was talking, screaming from the crypt telling Bradley to punish Jake for things he never got to do. It was his way of  justifying his anger. 

“Rooster! Stop man—“ Jake shouted back as he tried to wriggle his way out of this situation. “Would you cut it out! You don’t have any pants on!! Get off of me!” 

“YOU KILLED YOURSELF!” Rooster huffed as he dismounted from the wingman he hadn’t seen in over two decades. “You coward, I always thought you were stronger than me, but then I had my fucking fingers down your damn throat begging you to stay and I knew—I fucking knew you were the one who was full of chicken shit.” 

“For someone who’s got the gift of the gab you sure do talk a hell of a lot of crap man! Get off me!” Jake wasn’t backing down. He could do this all day if need be. But he knew Rooster had a lot to get off his chest. 

“Who’s dad yelling at mama?” Ellie asked as she watched her father swing a right hook into thin air. 

“You remember the imaginary friends we spoke about, baby?” You cooed as you held your daughter's hand and walked across the expanse of the gravel drive across to the paddocks. “Well—I think another one of daddy's friends is here.” 

“But I can’t see him?” Ellie frowned. She didn’t understand why she couldn’t see the people who had passed by your family farm. She wasn’t old enough to understand. But one day, one day you would tell her. 

“Because this is one of mummy and daddy’s friends darling, it’s like how we can’t see your imaginary friends.” As you made your way over with your daughter hand in hand, Jake caught your eye. He knew the moment Bradley saw you he would understand. 

“Bradshaw, your entire ass is hanging out for the whole afterlife to see.” You chuckled behind your hand as a heat so pure rushed to your cheeks. “Cute tattoo though, I always thought you had an ass tat but never got a chance to ask.” 

“Hollywood?” Rooster nearly collapsed on the spot when he saw you, it had been so long yet you looked exactly like you did the last time he saw you. “Oh my goodness, I—“ 

“Could you maybe stop beating my husband up? He keeps the house from falling apart around us, I need him in one piece.” 

“Husband?” Bradley turned back to where Jake stood dusting himself off. He caught the sight of a silver ring wrapped around his left ring finger. “You married Hollywood?” 

“Of course I did, I died for her—I wasn’t not going to marry her.” At the very mention of the word death it all sunk in. You could see it plastered all over Roosters face—he was connecting the dots. “Bobs been through, so has Nat.” Bradley felt again at his throat for scars and staples that were no longer there. “What was it?” Jake asked softly, he knew it was always better to rip the Band-Aid off. 

“Throat cancer—I think I flatlined, I just remember not being able to breathe and then I was here.” Bradley never thought he’d be one of those people who get some form of cancer. He didn’t smoke or do drugs. The most he ever did was drink and sometimes that could reach an excessive amount. Liver failure seemed more on brand for the Naval Aviator. Not throat cancer. 

“I’m sorry Rooster, that must have been awful.” You really didn’t know what to say, because what do you say to people once they’ve died. Natasha didn’t want to believe it. Bob seemed scared, Rooster though? He was just angry. 

“You were just gone—“ Bradley shrugged as he looked around the farm, amber orange from the mid afternoon sun made the fields look almost angelic. “You both took so much from me, I never saw a reason to love, to settle down, share my life with someone because I couldn’t put them through the experience of loss.” It made sense, but that was a heavy burden to carry. Jake wasn’t even sure he deserved to be the one to carry that load. “I saw what happened to the both of you and it scared me shitless, it made me so goddamn angry.” 

“Rooster—“ You cooed softly as you approached him. “Honey what happened to Jake and I, it was an extreme case.” You tried your best to explain as you reached out to touch his cheek gently. Bradley leaned into the gentle touch of a woman he kept a picture of on his mantle piece, alongside Hangmans. “You know we love you, but it was our time.” 

“Did you fight?” Jake asked as his daughter raced his way. Bradley watched as the man he’d known from the academy crouched to pick up who Bradley could only assume was his daughter. They looked the same in so many ways. But she was her own version of you too. “The cancer?” 

The silence that fell over the four of you as you waited for Bradley to answer was heavy, you knew he knew that he was dead. You didn’t need to explain it. But in the silence you saw a man racing across the field—there couldn’t have been two Dagger deaths in the same timeframe could there? 

“I wasn’t ready to die.” Be a man. People say it all the time. “I wasn’t ready, but I’m glad I got to tell you how much of a jerk you were for leaving us behind.” 

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t live without her Rooster—Hollywood, she’s everything to me, and after everything we went through? I never wanted her to be alone again, even in death.” 

You watched as the man ran and ran and ran—he looked like Bradley, just a little less buff and sporting the same stupid mustache. He wore a smile so bright it could have broken his cheeks. 

Your neighbour was Roosters dad, Goose, this entire time and you never even knew it. 

“I can still hear the beep, that flatline on the monitor.” Bradley explained as he furrowed his brows. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to go back or not. “How do I stop it?” 

“Just means that you can go back, if you want to, someone’s trying to bring you back.” It was probably the doctors and nurses handling the defibrillator, giving him rough but life saving chest compressions. 

Be a man. But what does that even mean? Is it about strength? Is it about sacrifice? Is it about winning? 

“I don't think I wanna go back.” Bradley sighed as he watched you make your way over to Jake and your little girl. The perfect mix of the two of you. God he was angry, he was still so mad at how things turned out the way they did. Why you both did what you did. But he’d get over it. He had to, he didn’t have a choice: Because the beeping had stopped. He’d flatlined. 

“Bradley!” The man who Rooster had been trying to make proud ever since he was a little boy, called out as he ran. “Bradley! Is that you! My boy!” 

Maybe it’s more simplistic than that. 

Men have to know when not to man up. Sometimes it takes a real man to set his ego aside, admit defeat, and simply start all over again. 

“Dad?” 

***~***~***~***~***~***~***~***~**

Whumptober Tags 🏷️ @xoxabs88xox @oldermenaremyreligion @slut-f0r-u @emma-is-cool @armydrcamers @topguncortez @topgun-imagines @kmc1989 @els-marvelvsp @blindedbythelightt

[munson-blurbs]

eddie/hospital/morphine button

Because this man is a menace, even when he doesn't mean to be.

Warnings: mentions of smut, hospital/injuries (unrelated to the Upside Down), regulated morphine use (obviously), pregnant!Reader

WC: 1.3k

--

Your heels clack on the floor as you attach the visitor badge to your blazer, hurrying down the hall to room 114. You’re exhausted after what seemed like the longest trip ever, even though your business trips to San Francisco were nothing out of the ordinary. 

Of course, a frantic phone call from Wayne Munson is always sure to shake things up. 

The elder Munson man is typically even-tempered and cool as a cucumber. So when your hotel room phone rang and he was on the other end of the line, breathlessly explaining that Eddie had fallen off of a ladder and was unable to move, you’d gotten a ticket for the first flight back to Indiana.

“He was helpin’ hang up lights for the Christmas fair downtown, and there was a big gust of wind…took him right down. Landed on his tailbone,” Wayne rushed, choking up at the memory. “We just got him to the hospital, and they’re taking him in for x-rays. If he shattered it, he’ll need emergency surgery.”

You’d assured him that you were on your way home, already haphazardly throwing clothes into your suitcase. Between inclement weather and holiday airport busyness, it had taken you forever to be put on a plane. Eight hours later, including a layover at O’Hare and nearly an hour cab ride, you’d finally made it.

Wayne is standing outside the room, gnawing on his thumbnail anxiously. If smoking in hospitals was still allowed, he’d be halfway through a carton at this point.

“Never a dull moment when you’re a Munson, is there, darlin’?” He tries to joke, but the catch in his voice weakens his attempt at humor. You pull him in for a hug, and neither of you let go for a long time. “He’s out of surgery now,” Wayne continues. “He fractured his tailbone, and the doc said he’ll need physical therapy after he starts to heal up a bit.”

“He didn’t…did he hit his head?” you ask quietly, tears brimming in your own eyes. You’d been in fight-or-flight mode, nerves on edge this entire time, and now that you were here, you were finally able to process everything that happened.

“No, thank God,” Wayne answers, and you breathe out a sigh of relief. “That boy can’t afford to lose any more brain cells.” He lets out a terse chuckle.  

You bite your lip nervously. “Is it okay if I go in and see him?”

‘’Course.” Wayne gestures towards the door. You step in, looking at your sleeping husband laying in the bed. He’s hooked up to various beeping machines, and it tugs at your heartstrings to see him so vulnerable.

“Hey, baby,” you whisper, pressing a gentle kiss to his temple. He stirs for a moment before falling back to sleep. “I’m here whenever you wake up, okay?”

“Mmm,” Eddie’s big brown eyes flutter open, and he manages a small smile. “Hi, my love,” he murmurs. Out of habit, he tries to sit up, and he winces with pain. “Shit. Well, that hurts like hell. Jesus H. Christ.”

You brush a lock of curly hair out of his eyes. “Don’t push yourself, Eds. I can help you sit up.��� You bring your arms under his, supporting him as he props himself up. “Anything you need, I’m on it.”

He waggles his eyebrows suggestively. “Anything?”

“Edward Munson, are you seriously asking for a blowjob right now?” You roll your eyes.

He pouts. “Hand stuff?”

“Eddie.”

“Fine,” he laments, patting the spot next to him on the bed. Before he can continue, a cough rattles his whole body, and he grimaces. 

You instinctively jump up. “Let me get you some water,” you say. 

Eddie shakes his head. “Stay with me, baby. I’ll just ask one of the nurses.” He pushes a red button next to him. “Someone should be in in a few minutes.”

You nod and sit back down. “So,” you grin, “I heard you got beat up by a gust of wind.”

“Dammit, Wayne!” Eddie groans, but his smile matches yours. “I wanted to tell people that I was wrestling an alligator.”

“Ah, yes,” you giggle. “Very realistic, given Indiana’s burgeoning alligator population.”

Eddie pushes the button again with a bit more force this time. “Usually they come running,” he mutters. “Must be jealous that my hot wife is here.”  He puckers his lips, and you kiss them until you feel him smile. “Shit, I didn’t even ask how your trip was. Did you do a lot of Important Person things? Show all those limp-dick CEOs what a badass you are?”

You swat at him playfully, careful of his wounds. “I didn’t realize how painfully boring work trips are when you can’t drink. But the munchkin made sure I fulfilled all of my food cravings.” 

Eddie perks up at that, bringing his hand to the slight swell of your belly and talking to his unborn baby. “Yeah, bub? You took your mom on a culinary tour of San Francisco?” He looks up at you with a frown. “I think he’s ignoring me.”

“He’s just mad because you’re stealing all of the attention from him,” you tease, watching Eddie page the nurses for a third time. “Babe, let me just get you some water.”

“No, ish fine,” he slurs, pressing the red button again and again, or at least trying to—his hand keeps slipping. “Thas’ why they get paid the big bucks.”

You cock your brow. “Are you okay?”

“Never better, cutie patootie,” he giggles, reaching to poke your nose before giving up and booping the air. “Hey, you know what?”

“What?”

“No,” he whines, “‘m askin’ you.” He bursts into a fit of giggles, stopping abruptly when the pain sets in. “Gotta stop makin’ me laugh. You’re too funny, honey. My funny bunny honey.”

“I didn’t say anything…” you muse. Was Wayne sure that he hadn’t sustained any head injuries? Panic sets in as you imagine every possible horrible scenario. A nurse walks down the hallway, and you flag her down before she passes the room. 

“I think there’s something wrong,” you blurt out. “He’s slurring his words, and he’s all confused—”

“Yeah, and I’ve been tryin’ to get a glass of water but no one’s comin’!” Eddie punctuates the last three words with more attempted button-pushing. “This service is terrible!”

The nurse massages the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger. “Mr. Munson,” she explains calmly, “the green button is our call button. You’ve been pressing the morphine button.” As though she can read your mind, she turns to you and says, “don’t worry; there’s a limit. He won’t overdose.”

Relief courses through your body for the second time today. “Thank you,” you tell her, catching your breath. 

“Of course.” She smiles and looks back at your husband, who is currently staring into space. “Get some rest, Mr. Munson. You certainly need it.” 

Eddie laughs hysterically as she leaves. “She was totally flirting with me,” he announces to no one in particular, a dopey grin plastered to his face. “Sorry you had to see that. ‘M just irr-sistable.”

“Sure are.” You pat his head gingerly. “Go sleep, Eds. I love you.”

“Whoa, let’s not rush into things, baby,” he says, already drifting off. You chuckle as you walk out the door. 

“All good?” Wayne asks, holding out a bag of potato chips from the vending machine. 

You take a chip and nod. “Yup. Oh, except that he mixed up the call and morphine buttons, so he’s higher than a kite.”

“This is the man you chose to be the father of your child?” Wayne teases, popping another chip in his mouth. 

“Yeah, well, we just won’t have him teach the baby his colors.”

--

[laes-expoau-official]

Hiya!

Random question of the day part… 7? FRICK I’M ACTUALLY JUST LOSING COUNT (oh well qwq)

If you could meet one person in the world, alive or dead, who would it be?

Hey, I said it was random :D

-Midnight

-dammit. I wish Solar was a character i allowed to be asked- he'd say his Sun, 100%, without hesitation-

That is an interesting question! Let's see.... Maybe the evil version of myself? I don't think I've met them yet. -Earth

"I'd think it'd be interesting to meet other astrals, like Taurus, or Aquarius, or even Sagittarius..." -Lunar

". . . Nexus. I want his side of the story, his genuine experiences of being a replacement..." -Moon

-(Still duct taped btw, I'm posting these out of order)-

'. . . I guess, if i could go into the past.... I'd meet my past self, as well as Moon... Help myself and Moon with situations me and Moon had already fixed... Probably get my past self to consider actual therapy too...' -Sun

-I genuinely don't know what Castor and Pollux would say, since they practically watch every living being-

[just-a-tiny-void]

Let me have unhinged Steve Harrington

Let me have this man- this child

(cuz that’s what they all are, right?

Just children doin a job that they were never supposed to be have to begin with)-

Filled with an all consuming rage cuz everything is just too much

Too much grief,

Too much pain-

…too much failure.

So let me have a quiet Steve Harrington, one shaped by war.

Ever observing to those that he loves because he can’t (he just can’t) lose anymore.

A weapon always within reach just in case.

A walkman n radio for hun to help.

So let me have a grief stricken Steve Harrington, with sharp edges shaped by heartbreak.

Because he’s lost in what could’ve been n what if,

Because he wasn’t strong enough,

He wasn’t fast enough-

Wasn’t good enough for them.

So what was he worth?

So let me have this shell of a child-

Fighting one last battle against these monsters that have taken everything from his family,

Bloodthirsty and without mercy

To bring them back, to make them whole again.

So let me have this child-

N let him feel

N let him be loved.

————————————————————

N then everyone lives, get some therapy, n have their happily ever after cuz dammit they deserve it.

(if this is bad I’m sorry I just want this boy to let it out while killing some monsters n protecting his people)

[wrenthemoralfander]

Headcanons based on My DBD Ships:

Trigger warning: mentions of self harm.

HuntBird (Huntress x Kate Denson)

Kate is always making little tunes for Anna. Anna likes it when her bird sings for her. 

Anna likes it Kate cooks; Kate… doesn’t always like when Anna cooks because it makes her a little sick. She gently explained this to Anna. 

Clown is never allowed near Kate unless he wants a hatchet thrown at him. (That’s Anna’s woman dammit.)

Anna is very possessive of Kate. Territorial almost. 

Plays The song her mother saying to her as a child when Anna is having trouble sleeping/is having a bad day. If Kate is having a bad day, Anna brings her gifts.

Aceslinger (Ace x Caleb Quinn/Deathslinger)

Ace and Caleb are the old men of the group, One’s joyful, one’s cranky, and Caleb hates it when that’s pointed out to him. 

Both have collectively adopted Nea. She’s their kid now. 

Ace claims to be the big spoon, but he knows damn well he’s a small spoon.

Caleb makes a mean ���steak. Ace make some mean Milanesa a Caballo. (An Argentina recipe involving fried beef/chicken with fried eggs on top often served with fries on the side) (Hope I described it correctly, )

Both to poker together, but Ace knows better than to cheat when Caleb’s winning. He doesn’t want to die. 

Ace did try to cut himself, because he felt like he was worthless and Nea and Caleb would be better off without him. Caleb did not leave his side for the next few weeks after saving him, and knocking some sense into Ace. 

Despite Ace’s charm, the Frisky Tango does not happen often. When it does, Caleb calls the shots. Not that Ace complains.

If Ace has a bad day, he’s allowed to have a drink. If Caleb has had a bad day, he gets extra cuddles and kisses. There’s a system and the men follow it well. 

HillFlower (Hillbilly x Claudette)

(I’m calling it HillFlower because honestly that’s a cute name and I think it’s very fitting.) 

Claudette often makes pies for everyone, however she noticed Max only stole her apple pies so she made a second pie and pointed out which one was for him, and which one was for the others. This has not stopped him from stealing her pies, but he appreciates the attempts.

Claudette Does regular optional therapy with Max.

Never raises her voice at him. She’s gentle when she speaks to him. 

She stopped Max from hitting himself with a brick several times. 

He often hurts anyone else who enters the barn without Claudette. If they’re with Claudette, they’re safe… for now. 

Claudette Stims a lot, and Hillbilly is fascinated by it. 

If Hillbilly has a bad day, he just hangs around Claudette a bit and he feels better. If Claudette has a bad day, he makes her food. 

???(Haddie x Tarhos Kovacs/The Knight)

(I… genuinely… don’t know what to call this ship to be honest)

Haddie is allowed to do whatever she wants, but if she gets hurt on the job, Tarhos lectures The Dredge and tells them to be nicer to her.

Haddie is allowed to speak to Vittorio, but only while the knight/his crew are present. It is not that he doesn’t trust Haddie, it is that he doesn’t trust the noble. 

The crew often make sure Haddie is healthy. They know if she’s sick, Tarhos will lose his shit slowly while he takes care of her.

Haddie is his personal barber.

The dredge is the only reason they don’t do anything risky. The Dredge is also the reason Tarhos checks the closet before Haddie sleeps.

Crowffiti (Artist x Nea Karlsson)

(This ship name is perfect.)

Artist often sketches Nea when she’s sitting and thinking.

Nea has started calling her wifey, originally to piss her off, only to find out that Artist loves being called wifey.

The crows are their babies.

Doesn’t do the frisky tango, because Artist is worried about poisoning Nea through the ink. 

Nea has tried to kill herself a few times, Artist won’t let her. The first time it happened, Artist had to physically draw a small comic to explain what happened. Ace and Caleb were upset and worried about their kid.

The artist paint things, and Nea makes it brighter, while being careful around Carmina’s work. 

The two are constantly drawing each other.

When Nea has a bad day, Artist draws whatever she wants. When Artist has a bad day, Nea plays with her hair and compliments her wife. 

[heylinfanclub]

Where that post where someone excitedly talks and constantly gets put down and then gets asked ‘why do you never talk anymore’ cause I feel. I feel some of that. Feelin like I’m. Finally he grasping the concerns of my friends in college. That whole. ‘I don’t create as much, I don’t share as much, I don’t have goals as much’. As I relearn to accept imperfection I realize a lot of that disappeared cause NOBODY BELIEVED IN MY DREAMS OR GOALS. nothing I aimed for seemed good or realistic enough for others. So I just decided nothing is good or realistic enough at all. And became. Completely incapable of looking at my creations or goals without becoming the ultimate critic of ‘HOW USEFUL IS IT IN THE LONG RUN? DOES IT PUT FOOD ON YOUR TABLE? DOES IT IMPRESS THE CROWD? NO? THEN DONT DO IT. WHY BOTHER. NOBODY WILL APPROVE, YOU WILL FACE PAINFUL REJECTION AGAIN’

Sigh. Sigh. I wanna fight that.

Equestrian telling me to be more reflective on my negative feelings (nicknamed The Bothers: Critic, Guilt, Fear, Overwhelm). There’s also Irreverence who is rare and scary (I don’t LIKE thinking Nothing Matters…).

Equestrian tells me all these pieces can be useful. Have their places have their tasks that don’t get in the way of me or hassle me or scare me. Critics great for maintaining my ethics, guilt punishes me in situations where I may not be punished for straying from my conscience (but should only be for the things I truly believed in!!), overwhelm reminds me I need a fucking break—- fear tries so hard to keep me safe. And irreverence oh irreverence it makes some hard things less impactful sometimes doesn’t it?!

Sometimes I just hate being so. In my head. Being in therapy so long. Basically only having therapy as my main life thing for years now. It helps a lot but I just. Feel like I’m losing my ability to connect with other people about feelings in a NORMATIVE FASHION. I’m too analytical. I talk about my feelings too abstractly (like they’re people or wild animals attacking me). But that’s THE CRITIC making BASELESS ASSUMPTIONS. I’ve never been normative and I’ve never wanted to be, I just want to be accepted and for people to have some pATIENCE. Talking about my feelings like they’re not me HELPS, and they’re not me, I’m my actions dammit. Hrmhrmhrm. Thoughts.

[9teenninety5]

(plz don’t read this bc it’s embarrassing to post vulnerable personal crap on the internet but this is my personal blog and dammit i want to shout into the void.. anyway) someone close to me said something a couple of months ago while we were having a conversation about her life and it stuck with me in regards to mine because it was a perspective that i’d not heard but it was absolutely true. she said the opposite of love is not hate, it’s apathy. and today i have been going over and over in my head what caused me the most pain in my past relationship and it was the apathy i lived with everyday. sure, the big hateful moments hit like a ton of bricks, and usually those explosions came when he had to acknowledge my hurt and it enraged him, but at least i was being acknowledged. he truly just hated acknowledging me. i only existed for short periods of time: if he was hungry. if he needed a ride to the store. if he needed someone to vent to. if he needed a warm body to watch a movie with. if he needed someone to unleash his anger on. if he needed someone to blame for everything that went wrong in his life. and at best, if he was sober and completing his weekly chore of spending a Sunday afternoon with me. he only ever saw me as a chore or pain in the ass. or he simply never saw me at all. the indifference was a slow and agonizing death. there was no interest in aiding me to become the best version of myself because how i was doing never even crossed his mind. that’s not what he wanted in a relationship. i tried to push him to be the best version of himself but he didn’t want that either. my role was to enable and clean up the mess. and the messes never stopped. it was overwhelming but i couldn’t go to him with my stress or sadness. if i wasn’t happy i was a “bitch”. there was no accountability for what he was doing that made me unhappy. he’d frame it “if i’m that bad then leave”. and the gut-wrenching pain of realizing i could be thrown out easier than the trash made me believe i was, in fact, of less value than trash. i stayed because i *cared* about him. because i *loved* him. he only “loved” me for short periods of time when he thought he could lose the benefits of me. he didn’t care about losing the person i am, but instead the things i could offer. i was a great partner, and even then, i could’ve been an even better one had he allowed our relationship to progress but he just wanted to stay the same and i had essentially become a living ghost. just like him. so i walked away for what seemed like the hundredth time, but this time i knew i couldn’t ever go back to that same recipe of destruction. the opposite of love is apathy. i could’ve been anybody. i was just filling a role. and ouch what an ache. but in my healing and growth i can understand that it’s not because i wasn’t worth caring about. i was, always have been, and always will be worth caring about. it wasn’t personal, he just wasn’t capable. it’s as terribly simple as that. i’ve now learned the invaluable lesson of just how vital it is to care about yourself, to avoid letting anyone make you feel like your existence isn’t even worth acknowledging. i fucking matter. and i am proving that to myself by protecting my peace and going to therapy and facing the hard stuff. my soul is grateful for it and if i die tomorrow, i die fighting the good fight, which is all i could ever want in terms of being proud of the life i lived. so to make a long story short: to love is to care. to not care is to not love. and there is nothing more detrimental to this world than a bunch of human beings who never cared about themselves and spread that onto others by showing them that they don’t matter either which then spreads to nature and the earth itself. the world *needs* love in order to keep going. i choose love. fck apathy.

[rabbit-chicken-witch]

I love that therapy today was about how my therapist and I hate Christmas music, him telling to get Groupon and get a damn message, and him telling me that if Trump is a bastard that can love and take care himself despite being an asshole, i could too.

I will not lose to Trump on loving and taking care of myself god dammit.

I’m gonna be so buff

[icryyoumercy]

meeting for the thing bola volunteered me for, but she's waiting for results for her covid test and generally not feeling well, so now i'm all on my own, and

*autistic panic*

[genshxn]

anon asked:

hi there, ur blog theme is hella pretty🥺💕! was wondering if i could request how will xiao react when he stumbled upon his s/o bandaging their wounds they've gotten from a commission (the injuries are serious but not too serious to endanger them). the two then starts to argue until xiao confessed he's scared to lose them- sorry if its too specific aksjs but have a great day !!!

SNDNJD THANK YOU :,,,DDD

also dw dw it’s fine lmao

【ｘｉａｏ】

he finds his s/o bandaging their wounds and gets into a fight with them until he confesses he’s scared of losing them

warnings ; injuries, arguing, shouting, angst

- Archons, that was a long commission. Those mitachurls were far too persistent for how they normally were. You managed to finish up the commission, but not unscathed. You were covered head to toe in all sorts of bruises and cuts. Some particularly large ones were on your leg, and your upper arm.

- Luckily most bleeding had stopped, so you weren’t in any danger, and nothing opened up if you walked. It was a bit painful to get back to Wangshu Inn, but you’d manage.

- Xiao wasn't due to return for a while, so you should be able to deal with your injuries before he gets back. You don’t want to worry Xiao too much since he already deals with so much. Needing to worry about you is the last thing you want for him.

- You take the elevator up to the top of the Inn and climb up to the attic where you and Xiao share a living space. Xiao has a hammock sort of bed that’s hung from the support beams on the ceiling, while you sleep on a mattress on the floor. You’re roommates of sorts. 

- You find the crate filled with bandages and other sorts of first-aid items. You unfortunately can’t do too much for your bruises other than put some cryo slime packs on it. You clean the rest of your injuries, wiping off any caked blood and dirt after pretty much drowning them in some saline water. (You made it yourself with the handy old alchemy table in Liyue)

- After sticking some funky sort of gauze you got from Bubu pharmacy, you bandage up your wounds. You’re sort of a seasoned veteran at it since you’re often ending up with all sorts of scratches and cuts.

- Right as you were about to finish bandaging one of the last major cuts you had, you suddenly hear rustling from behind you. 

- "Xiao?" 

- You twist around from your place on the floor and find the adeptus standing behind you in silence. The fear in his eyes when scanning your wounds is enough to make your heart wrench. He almost instantly drops down to a crouch and firmly grabs your arm, analyzing the cut.

- "Dammit, you’re badly injured." 

- Xiao suddenly snaps, his voice still quiet but with almost a growling quality to it 

- "Xiao, I’m alright. This isn’t the first time I’ve been hurt." 

- "Yes, but you mortals are fragile!" Xiao begins to raise his voice at you. 

- "You never know when an injury could be your end!" He harshly shoves your arm back against your body. The sudden force against your battered arm makes you wince in pain, accidentally making you let out a pained noise. Xiao flinches at the sound, instantly becoming more emotionally charged.

- "Leave it to me to do the fighting! It’s my only damn purpose." He hisses, seething with self-hatred and fear. 

- You curl into yourself out of fear. You know Xiao wouldn’t hurt you, but he’s still terrifying when angry. 

- "You mortals are so damn delicate. I’ve seen so much bloodshed of beings far more powerful than you. If they can die, so can you, just like that!" Xiao’s fists are bunched at his side, eyes welling with tears. You had only seen him cry once before, and when he spotted you, he instantly disappeared. Like a fleeting memory. 

- "Xiao, I’m alive, aren’t I?" You say quietly, reaching out your hand to hold his. 

- He grabs it and brings it up to his chest. Tears are falling from his golden eyes. "You are, but I’ve seen so much death that I don’t want to lose you to!” He instantly stops in his tracks and his eyes widen. He didn’t mean to say that, but it was already out in the open now. With a growl, he aggressively wipes his tearful eyes with his wrist.

- Without a word, you pull him into a hug. Xiao stiffens up initially, but simply lets himself go. Tears don’t stop streaming from his eyes in a cluster of buried emotions. Everything that he had buried deep down was just surfacing again. But this time he wasn’t alone.

- “I’m not going anywhere, Xiao. I’m right here.” You hug him close and mutter to him softly.

- Please just hold him there for a while. The poor guy needs therapy.

[brightwanderer]

A throwaway line in the scene I’m writing just gave me the most painfully adorable mental image: 9-year-old Kurusu Akira loves tamagotchis. He’s not allowed pets, he doesn’t really have friends, he’s starving for attention and emotional support, but dammit if his collection of digital eggs isn’t well-fed and happy and loved and evolving into their best selves.

Bonus round: 19-year-old Akechi Goro has never owned a tamagotchi or seen the point of them but Akira spotted a nostalgia re-release double pack in red and black, and after Goro’s dies like three times in a row he gets pissed that he is apparently losing and becomes furiously determined to become the best fucking tamagotchi dad in the world.

It’s not therapy, Akira thinks, watching Goro consult the planner where he keeps his freshly-drawn-up feeding and exercise schedule for the blob on the screen, furrowing his brow as he considers whether one extra treat before bed would be so bad, but it’s something, at least.

[your-highnessmarvel]

From Bleak to Bright - Part Eleven

All other parts on on my masterlist, link provided below.

AN: soooo um i think this may be a little tension relieving ;;;;)))

Warnings: angst, language, SMUT (18+ ONLY)

MASTERLIST - SERIES MASTERLIST

PART ELEVEN

** Two years later, Manhattan, New York **

You scrolled down on your phone, pretending to actually be doing something, while you waited for Natasha. A group of teenagers had come into the cafe, loud, laughing, challenging each other to some stupid fight. You rolled your eyes, chewing on some gum, making sure they kept their distance with you. Who knew what those kids had touched. Ew.

Nat texted you that she was around the corner, and to keep from staying a second longer with the obnoxiously loud teens, you all but ran out the cafe. You marched down the street, spring air brushing through your hair. There was a smell between a wood fire and flowers that drafted from God knows where. The sun was high up, the afternoon in Manhattan hot. Many people walked by wearing shorts or tank tops. Summer was approaching. It brought a smile to your face.

But that smile soon faded as you walked by the newspaper outlet and caught sight of the title. 

TWO YEARS SINCE NEW YORK ATTACK

You gulped, biting on the inside of your cheek. It had already been two years since the last time you’d spoken to him? It seemed like way longer. It seemed as if you’d walked into a parallel universe. No one ever talked about him, least of all your friends and family. Least of all you. 

You shook your head, brushing away the thoughts that brought you back to all those years ago. You shook away an image of a loft, of a coffee table full of leather-bound books, of hands on your body.

“Hey!”

You looked up, Natasha standing before you in a trendy outfit that made her look like a runway model. She had huge sunglasses perched on her nose, pink bubblegum in her mouth. 

“Ready?” she asked. 

“Yeah!” you answered, trying to hide the newspapers with your body, but you saw how her chin dipped when you walked by. She would surely see the titles and tell your brother. Dammit. You’d been doing so well.

Technically, you’d been doing fine. 

Ever since the Avengers had defeated Loki and Thor had brought him back to Asgard, you’d never seen or heard of him. You’d gone to a few rounds of therapy, mostly with psychologists who dealt in soulmates, and after a few months of isolation, Bruce had let you go. It had been a relief to have your phone back, your liberties, your God damn car. 

When you’d gotten the keys to your apartment back, it had felt final. But as the last people invited to your “homecoming” celebration had dwindled out, you’d found yourself in a pit. 

Everything was muted. Yes, you still saw colors, but without the person behind those colors, you just drifted. Yes, you were happy, somewhat, but whenever you saw couples together, something in your chest burned, like a slow leaking flame. You’d never be like them. Even though you’d heard stories about people marrying someone who wasn’t their soulmate, the simple thought of having another man - except Loki - in your life sent shivers down your spine. 

“I heard they got free donuts,” Nat said, bending her head close to yours. You giggled, but there was no heart it in.

She was bringing you to a stupid singles night out. Even though she briefly skirted on the fact that you’d already found your soulmate, she said it was an opportunity “to get out there”.

Hell, maybe it would make you forget Loki, although you highly doubted.

The night went on in a sort of downward spiral. It started off really fast and funny, with music and drinks, and a lot of men fighting to come to talk to you and the hot redhead. But with every passing guy, the more they didn’t look like him, the more they said things that set your teeth on edge, the duller you felt. 

Like being emptied slowly, hand by hand, touch by touch. 

By the time Nat brought you back to your apartment, you could barely manage a smile.

You tried, once again, fixing your stupid leaking tap but decided against it and went straight to bed. Because of that stupid newspaper, you had nightmares, plagued by a dark-haired prince wearing green and gold armor. 

In the morning, you ignored the tap and went to work. When you came back, the tap wasn’t leaking and you thanked your lucky guardian because if you had to hear one more drop, you’d lose it. 

The next night, coming home after drinks with your brother, the windowpane was fixed.

You knew something was wrong when your squeaking front door slid on perfectly oiled hinges. 

Someone had been in your apartment. Multiple times. 

Stepping in your apartment that night, eight nights after the tap was “fixed”, you looked around in the darkness. The shadows seemed denser, more menacing, as if they hadn’t been standing there every night, ever. 

You looked at your tiny kitchen. Nothing seemed amiss. You checked the lock, but it locked on its own with no problem. Even better than before.

You couldn’t actually complain about your little home invader because they had fixed all the problems that were slowly driving you to the brink. But you hadn’t said a word to anybody, not even Bruce, because deep down, you knew who’d be waiting for you one night, eventually. 

The bathroom light had been changed. It used to flicker all the time, giving you the creeps while you took a shower. But now it opened wildly bright and stayed there. 

There. That was the daily change. 

You changed in the bathroom, taking a hot, quick shower, keeping the door firmly locked. You felt watched as you padded across your apartment in your jammy shorts and tank top, your hair a wet rope down your back. 

The cabinet where you kept your mugs had a faulty knob that had cut you on more than one occasion. It was polished now. 

Hands trembling, you pivoted in your kitchen, fingers white-knuckling the countertop. 

“I know it’s you,” you murmured, feeling your heart throbbing in your throat. The shadows seemed to listen. “I know what you’ve been doing.”

You apartment seemed to breathe, swallowing your words, digesting them. But nothing came back to you. You kept expecting the shadows to linger, to move, to break away, but everything remained still, quiet.

Your heart plummeted. 

You went to bed looking out the window, noticing just how clean it was for an apartment in downtown Manhattan. 

You had dreams of him, vivid dreams. You swore you could feel fingers on your cheek the next morning. 

It’s when you walked in to the scent of flowers and found a bouquet of your favorite in the kitchen that you truly lost it. It took everything in you not to pick it up and smash the glass vase against the wall. There was no note, but just the fact that now, he wasn’t being so subtle about him breaking and entering, made your heart bash wildly against your ribs. 

But you knew what he was doing. He was trying to get to you without the others knowing. He’d surely scourged the place for microphones or cameras, just like you’d done two years ago, and found none. He knew the Avengers, or anybody watching, wouldn’t know he’d been here. And just the fact that you’d told no one about the mysterious repairs in your flat meant everything for him.

You turned, flowers at your back. The shadows seemed to be smiling. They knew he was here. 

You were older now, wiser. You knew how to play his little games.

“I’m not afraid,” you said to the dark. The curtains had been drawn in the living room, you noticed, as you made your way there. He’d wanted this to be done in private. 

“I know you’re here,” you continued, inching to the windows, intent on pulling them back to shed some moonlight in your apartment. “You can... you can talk to me,” you whispered, heart heavy and harsh in your ribs. Your hands had begun to shake the closer you got to the curtains. 

When you wrenched them open, exposing the city beneath you, you could barely take your eyes off the horizon.

Because you saw it.

The flicker.

His face there and then not, your heart wrenching in your chest, causing an audible gasp from your lips to echo in the room.

You felt the heat of him at your back. “I thought you were unafraid?” he asked, his voice rumbling, something vicious seizing your insides with a hot grip. 

Something akin to a puzzle piece clicked back into place at the sound of his voice. You could breathe lighter now, see colors more vividly, hear the world around you clearly. All this time, you’d suffocated, been drowning, and now you weren’t.

“I’m not,” you answered, but neither you nor he missed the way your voice trembled.

You felt the warmth of his hand on your hip, saw the reflection of him flicker in the window as he leaned closer, his lips brushing the space beneath your ear. Fire lit everywhere on your flesh as he brought himself flush with you. 

He inhaled. “I’ve missed you,” he mumbled against your skin, the sound of it vibrating in your bones. 

“Where...” you licked your lips and restarted. “Where have you been?”

His other hand braced just under your throat, long fingers seeping warmth through the fabric of your t-shirt. 

“Away,” he mumbled. He slid his hand from your hip to the sliver of skin under the hem of your t-shirt and you hummed involuntarily. His touch was like no other’s. “You’re so soft,” he mumbled. 

You tried not to forget that he’d left you there on the floor two years ago, but the way his body fit against yours made any logical thought seep from your brain.

“I’ve dreamt of you for so long,” he drawled, making it seem as if you’d been separated for an eternity. “I’ve dreamt of your eyes. Your voice. The way your body fits right onto mine.” He shifted slightly, pressing you harshly against him. “I’ve not the heart to take another woman to bed. I want it to be you.”

His words sent a strange heat dripping down into your belly, heavy and wanting. Your mouth parted, and the hand Loki had against your chest slipped up until his thumb pressed against your mouth. “How sweet of you,” you said against his thumb. 

He chuckled lowly. “I can show you sweet,” he said.

“I rather you practice restraint,” you mumbled, even though deep down, you meant none of it.

He chuckled again, shaking his head, lowering his hand back so it lay lightly around your throat. Then his chuckle turned into a groan, his force deepening. “Y/n,” but now his voice was pleading, like a man who’d been deprived of everything. “Please. I’ve thought of you all this time. Don’t push me away. Not you.”

The last part made you frown, but you nonetheless pushed from him, turning to face him. He had deep, dark circles under his eyes, his face ashen as if he hadn’t slept in a millennia. His hair was slightly longer, curling along his jaw, hiding his ears. He wore a white t-shirt and black slacks, but he was cold as you pressed your fingers against his shoulders. 

“Okay,” you whispered. You tried not to maintain eye contact because the haunted look in his green eyes made you sick. 

He bent forward slightly, grasping your face between his huge, warm hands. The first brush of his lips was soft, sending butterflies scuttling across your belly. But then he gripped your face, bringing you to him, and kissed you like he was a starving man and you were his reprieve. 

A strangled moan left his throat, his lips molding to yours, driving you backwards until your spine hit the window. One hand went to the glass to soften your fall, but he didn’t let up his rhythm. You could barely keep up anyway.

He kept kissing you so harshly, delving his tongue between your teeth, angling your head back to kiss you deeply, that every rational thought in you just went to dust. 

You gripped his back, marveling at the strong muscle, bringing him flush against you. One hand went to his hair, knotting in the raven locks, tugging until you swore you’d hurt him. But he kept kissing you, hands venturing to your hips, sliding over your ass, gripping your thighs and hauling you up. 

On instinct, you wrapped your legs around his waist, feeling his arousal just where you wanted him, and he spun you away from the window. How he moved with such eloquence as he devoured your mouth befuddled you, but when your ass found the countertop and Loki pressed himself between your legs, your brain fizzled. A whole jar of butterflies now flew in your belly. 

He broke from the kiss momentarily to grasp your breasts, kneading them in his hands, marveling at the sight. 

“Restraint, Loki,” you mumbled breathlessly, lips swollen. 

One of his brows furrowed, but he went right back to kiss you, holding your tits in his hands, then moving to grip your thighs with such strength it should have hurt. 

“I can’t stop,” he breathed between kisses, holding the back of your head. “I want you. I want you so fucking bad.”

You squeezed your eyes shut harshly, ignoring the red alarms in your head. Because it was him. Because it was him, always him, and now that he was here, touching you almost everywhere, his scent invading your senses, you never wanted him to go. 

He pulled your head back and kissed down your neck, over the swell of your breast, taking one nipple lightly between his teeth. A gurgled moan left your throat, Loki holding your head back, exposing everything to him. 

“No bra?” he grumbled against your skin, his tongue soothing the ache on your nipple. 

You just breathed in response, your legs clenching against his arms. 

He chuckled against your body. His left hand, the free one, slid down the length of your chest until he took one finger to lightly circle you through your pants. 

You gasped, jolting in his grasp, his mouth possessively clamping shut on your nipple. 

“Eager,” he hummed. He was so warm, smelled so fucking good, that the second time he applied pressure and circled his fingers, you all but moaned for everyone to hear. He teased you some more, licking and pleasing you all through your clothing.

Then his mouth left your hardened nipple and traveled up to your ear, where the warmth of his breath made you shiver. “If I can do this to you,” he whispered, circling your core through your pants. “Imagine how it’ll feel when I fuck you.”

His words made you want to clench your thighs together, to keep the heat and pressure there, but his body was still between your legs. He chuckled, biting your neck, hard, knowing it would leave a mark. He yanked your head forward until your eyes met his.

“I can feel just how much you want me,” he mumbled, hiding his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling. “I can smell it.”

You rocked once against his hand, eliciting a groan from him as your thigh briefly brushed him through his pants. He was hard. Wanting. The hand behind your hand squeezed until it hurt, but when he soothed his tongue against your neck, circling your clit, you lost yourself in him again. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, chanting your name like a prayer. You were almost there and you couldn’t believe it. You rocked against his hand, biting your lip, and when he saw that, he brought your mouth into a breathtaking kiss. “Cum against me,” he said through each kiss. “Cum.” It was a command. 

You squeezed your eyes, grinding against his circling hand, and when he licked your neck, you all but came apart with a moan. Loki quickly kissed you, swallowing your sounds of pleasure as he slowly, leisurely circled you through your pants. Your legs shaking, you trembled against him until his fingers stopped and he brought his forehead to yours. 

“Run away with me,” he whispered. “Let me ravage you every night, y/n, please.”

Lost in the dizzying aftermath of your orgasm, all you could do was breathe, eyes closed. You fisted one hand in his shirt, feeling his heart beating savagely under his breastbone. 

You tilted your head up, meeting his gaze.

“No,” you said.

AAAAHHHH omg i was so shy writing that little smutty part lmaooo BUT YES MORE TO COME OOOOHHHH (you will get a whole smut scene soon, let me get used to writing smut again hihihihi)

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