#it’s prevalent enough I thought about doing it

[wheremyscalesslither]

The ball python industry is so weird.

In dog breeding, raffling a puppy off to a person is a huge red flag.

In ball python breeding, it’s more common than you’d think and not looked down upon.

[hollycantkeeptrackofthedaze]

yeah, you also see this with the overly-friendly responses from complete strangers diagnosing someone (however jokingly) with autism or adhd.

i'm really sorry about influential people doing it - that really sucks, and is also part of what makes it so prevalant online. seeing someone as a hypothetical to fit into a narrative, and not realizing that if you have a level of platform on some level you are inviting all of your followers to engage in this behavior.

(like, from my perspective, in person there's a more present sense of selfhood so it's usually along the lines of "oh, but don't feel pressured" instead of an assumed in-joke, which, your bag on whether that's worse or better.)

like you said, it's mostly just important to understand that it's an overly familiar assertion over the selfhood of a stranger. it's not helpful, even to actual trans people.

and yeah, what a relief! for obvious reasons, it is conversation that needs careful and thoughtful discussion to avoid falling into transphobia - something i thought about enough to make a separate post on where i think the line is (essentially, between focusing on the harm done by the fundamental nature of this action versus focusing on the idea of gnc people being coerced into transitioning, especially by trans people as a demographic).

Obligatory Not A Trans Woman so my opinion on the matter should be taken with a dinosaur-sized grain of salt, but I do think that the trend of telling dudes that behave in traditionally feminine ways or like 'girly' things that they are trans women who's eggs haven't cracked yet and then doubling down and insisting and acting like they don't know themselves when they say 'actually I'm just a dude who likes feminine things' is maybe not the enlightened take that I'm seeing it presented as

Like, trans women are amazing and wonderful and generally a light to the world and I am all for empowering women who haven't realized that they're women yet to come to that conclusion and be happier and more comfortable in themselves but there's a difference between 'hey friend i've noticed these patterns in the things that you say and do and that you've consistently expressed or apparently alluded to the desire to be a woman and I just want you to know that if that's how you feel, that's an option and it's okay and I support you' and a constant stream of 'lol you naive idiot, just wait until the egg cracks, I'll be waiting to say I told you so, it's so obvious' being publicly directed at someone

Absolutely open to correction and input from people more informed than me or who have personal experience but it's a pattern that I've noticed and I feel like it does more to enforce stereotypical gender roles and force gender nonconforming men into a box than it does to support trans women yknow

[harmonysanreads]

Anatomy Of A Hug

ᯓᡣ𐭩 ft. Phainon, Mydei, Anaxa

Heads Up : Soft Yandere themes, Anaxa needs to see a therapist, Written before version 3.1, My Delusions I guess. I merely missed them a lot and decided to write something silly quickly orz.

-; ੈ♡˳ PHAINON

In the simplest terms, Phainon hugs with his everything. He's not shy to initiate skin-contact, will press himself to you accordingly — unless you voice out discomfort. He's diligent in wrapping his arms around your person securely, should you fancy melting in the bliss he offers. Though, his dexterity with hugs was honed through practice. In the beginning, the strength of a seasoned warrior had been more prevalent. A good amount of discussion (read: pleading to breathe) and experimentation snapped him out of the rush of pleasantries and reminded him of how precious a person he was dealing with.

Front hugs, back hugs, side hugs, bear hugs — he's okay with whatever you're comfortable with. His personal preference is going through all kinds of hugs he knows of manually ; first to shield you from all the evil that preys on your vulnerability, then scooping you up from the pull of gravity, a hearty squeeze to assure you of his protection, followed by a thrilling spin that will repel all bad thoughts out of your orbit. Until all the vestiges of weariness and stress have been replaced clean with the smiles he so adores.

Phainon is not one to be satisfied with short exchanges of warmth, the duration of these hugs tend to be quite long — or, as long as he can get away with before he has to commit to a Hero's responsibilities. Just as he initiates hugs with all of his soul, he expects the same when it comes to receiving them. Phainon prefers to be coddled, held with a promise of protection, ironically. Allow him to kneel and bring him close to your heart, weave your fingers through his hair, soothe the tension in his shoulders and he'll abandon the Flame-Chase altogether.

It's impossible to stir him in those moments, unless your safety happened to be at stake. As such, it's best for you to bid farewell to any other plans. Once he has memorized the nature of this exchange well, he goes beyond and utilizes it to deal with other nuisances. You cannot blame him, not when it has been proven that distracting you with a hug deters both the interference and yourself from paying heed to a mere passer-by. Sometimes his hug offers a bit less comfort and appears more as a shackle. Should you think to point this out, bear this in mind — your embrace is the last thread keeping his sanity intact.

-; ੈ♡˳ MYDEI

You must not care for your life at all, or at least, that's the thought Mydei found himself having when he was faced with the gesture. While the Crown Prince was not ignorant of the existence of a hug, he merely never had the opportunity to be properly acquainted with it. Not that it was necessary to know of it either, he can't win battles by hugging his opponents now, can he? As such, his reaction had been quite the spectacle when you initiated it. Begin by asking if he'd like a hug (throw in a ‘my prince’ at the end, sweetly), if his expression doesn't change then that means a ‘yes’, approach him calmly and wrap your arms around him next — be patient, he'll eventually reciprocate, given that you read the cues right.

If Mydei has to express affection, he'll do so in his own ways. It's already enough of an inconvenience that whenever he thinks of you, his head becomes blurred with clouds of emotions he's unable to decipher. That mushy sensation he feels inside whenever you have the audacity to hug him is just unfiltered agony to his mind. The journey to getting him less repulsed to the gesture has to be fueled by patience and understanding. Only when it clicks in his head that the feelings your hugs incite are not so dissimilar from the ones he gets by indulging in a plate of golden honeycakes does he warm up to the gesture.

Even then, Mydei is very particular about his preferences. Wave goodbye to the dream of spooning the prince any time soon, he's made it clear that that privilege is reserved for him alone. He'll always pull your head towards his chest and headlock you in place. If it's not possible to do so while standing, he'll sit down and gather you on his lap even — but he'll never allow his field of vision to be obstructed. Allowing this already renders you both vulnerable to attacks, he'll reason. He needs to remain vigilant, for the sake of your safety ; not that he'll translate the intention word by word.

Despite your efforts, you've discovered that ridding the prince of his stiffness is near-impossible, even if it's in private. His is not a life that's seen much comfort. Pay attention to the minute shifts in his eyes and you'll realize that the actual reason for his stilted posture, is because of the restraint he's exercising in unleashing his strength. It is a valid concern, he won't even need both of his hands to kill you. Death has rejected him countless times but awaits your departure in anticipation, he's merely mindful of its preying gaze.

-; ੈ♡˳ ANAXA

You are one fearless fellow if you initiated a hug with Anaxa, or you simply don't care about the fact that he's renowned as the scholar who most people are happy to avoid. The scholar in question would most likely call you an idiot though, you really need a thorough lesson in deciphering which men you must never approach. Not that he will be giving it, his time and energy are not to be wasted on such trivial concerns. Although he won't deny, with this brazen act, you've proven yourself to be a bit above the notion of ‘trivial’.

You think approaching the scholar is not so different from trying to befriend a cat, failure in the beginning is inevitable — only through persistence can you triumph. It's a task alone to try to acquaint yourself with him, getting him accustomed to physical affection might just be an acid test. The scholar has had no need for a rudimentary touch of another's skin, he'll say with a dignified hiss. But if you're observant, you'd know it's just a ruse to hide the depth of the depravation he's not allowing himself to acknowledge.

After much trial and error, when he finally bends to your efforts and accepts a hug, he's stiff and awkward, unsurprisingly. His hands wander as if settling on one place would burn his skin, face firmly hidden in the crook of your neck in what you can only assume is embarrassment. You would've teased him about the fierce flush on his ears and nape, if he hadn't ended the contact upon realizing his behavior. The scholar didn't dare face you for the next week, reflecting upon the incident vigorously.

Initially, his hugs were short, filled with muttered complaints to distract you from the firmness of his grip. The increasing average duration and his waning unwillingness towards the gesture did not go unnoticed by him at all. He knows the basic biological cause and it served as his rationale for quite a while. Yes, the reward system's activities are all there is to it, surely he possesses enough willpower to end this indulgence any time he wishes.

What he didn't anticipate though was you beating him to it, baffling him with your sudden consideration for his personal space. You are cruelty incarnate, conditioning him to this banal addiction and leaving him to deal with the consequences by himself? Now that is one preposterous claim to marvel at. It's wise if you cease pushing the man and retract your words. And if you don't? You're more than welcomed to repeat your jest at the firing point of his gun.

[strangunddurm]

His

Pairing: Jack Abbot x fem!reader

Word count: 4.5k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, fingering, masturbation, swearing, dirty talk, possessive, toxic behaviour, oral! fem receiving, oral! male receiving, established relationship.

A/N: First The Pitt fic 🥰

“He was her before he saw anything else in the room”

It was you who fell in love with him first. In lust. Infatuation. He had been watching you over the rim of his glass and all it took was that look, that intensity, to have you preening for him. Presenting in heat, just like he wanted.

It didn’t take a lot for you to follow him home, to his apartment that was more clean and pristine than any apartment you had been in before.

It felt as if you had kissed his mouth before, like you had ran your hands over his body and had his cock in you a thousand times. Familiarity.

The way his fingers stroked your walls, brushing against that sweet spot inside of you was sinful. It made your toes curl, head thrown back as your spine curved, the thought of him being the last thing before your eyes fluttered closed.

It was impossible not to love him. To yearn for him every second of every day until you couldn’t imagine even the smallest fragment of anything else. You would throb for him, a need settled deep in your spine that would never truly go away. Insatiable. Impossible to satisfy. A never ending hunger that consumed you and shaped your entire being.

It had been years since then, that first time that would always be as fresh in your memory as if it happened the day before.

You had been happy since then. Nestled into your own bubble of sweet domesticity that you never wanted to end. That never would end. Just you and him until death would inevitably do you appart.

As you grew together, you learned all about him, the most prevalent one being thatJack enjoyed his privacy. You knew it was simple in his eyes. Keeping his work life separate from his private ensured less tangles, less mess, less probability of something going wrong. He didn’t want things to go wrong with you, couldn’t let it happen. So, it wasn’t that he went out of his way not to talk about you to other people. It was just that others not knowing was better than them knowing. In his eyes. He didn’t think there to be anything wrong with that. People had their quirks.

At first, Jack had been operating on a strict need-to-know basis which included only two people. You and him. And then… he didn’t really know how to get the words out to Robby or anyone that he was dating someone young enough to be anything but appropriate. But he didn’t want appropriate, didn’t care for it. Not if it meant he couldn’t be with you. And now, years later, it had become normal for him to avoid mentioning anything that could even cause people to guess his relationship status. You were so sweet on him that you didn’t mind it at all. You knew his reason for it and you loved how protective he could be of you.

And your little arrangement had been perfect, up until you went out with your friends to the same bar he was at with half the ER department after a too hectic shift that he shouldn’t even have worked. It had been natural for him to accept the last-minute invitation, wanting to unwind with a couple of beers as the weather in Pittsburgh was just a tad too cold to enjoy them stagnant on a bench. However, the last minute plans meant that he was not able to become privy of your own last-minute plans, only exchanging short I-Love-Yous over text before locking his phone and following the heard to a bar a few streets over from the hospital. And now, here he was, hours later, forced to watch some fresh-faced intern try to smooth talk his way into your panties.

Jack had spotted you the second he walked into the Irish bar. It had caused him to pause in his steps just long enough for Robby to notice. He had tapped Jack on the back and teased him about being distracted by all the “pretty ladies”. Jack had of course been distracted by you, but it wasn’t for the reason Robby was thinking. Instead of saying anything, Jack had simply laughed it off and taken his seat that was the furthest out in the booth and just so happened to be in the perfect view of you.

It was all going so well. You were enjoying your time spent with your friends and Jack was trying to appear interested in whatever his colleagues were blabbering about. Trying being the operating word.

It was a surprise that the two of you hadn’t found yourselves in this situation earlier. After all, it wasn’t like you never went out at the same time. You would usually have a system in place where one of you would redirect your separate parties to different bars. But maybe this was worth it. Just for a night. Jack loved watching you. It was his favourite way to pass time, like watching a movie he hoped would never end. And you looked so happy and carefree, not a single worry seemed to weigh you down as you threw your head back and laughed at the world.

Your happiness made Jack happy until that wasteful newbie slid into the empty space by the bar next to you. And, of course, you being ever the polite person that you were, didn’t tell him immediately to fuck off, despite the uncomfortable smile that Jack could clearly see on your face. Your friends had abandoned you for the dance floor so there was nobody to do the telling off for you, unfortunately.

He tried to control himself, he really did. He sat in his seat, hand gripping the bottle tighter and tighter until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Whitaker’s taking your girl.” Robby hadn’t meant anything with it. It was obvious to him that Jack was clearly interested in the woman by the bar, he just didn’t know the entire reason why. Robby enjoyed riling Jack up at times, found it entertaining, so it was natural that he would take this chance to do it as well. Jack would usually take it all in stride with his own sarcastic response. Robby hadn’t expected for Jack to stand up in barley concealed anger and march off toward the pair, half-full beer bottle being knocked over in his haste.

“Hey, man! I was just kidding.” Robby called after him, fumbling to get the bottle up right before the entirety of its content was all over him. Jack pretended not to hear him, not even offering a half-assed apology over his shoulder. Getting you away from the intern was his main priority at that moment. Besides, it’s not like Robby would care after Jack bought him another beer later as an apology.

He knew you saw him coming. Your eyes connected with his over the intern’s shoulder, but you continued whatever unimportant conversation you had as if it was nothing. Jack knew it wasn’t entirely your fault. It was that still-wet-behind-his-ears intern that insisted on staying and talking to you despite your obvious disinterest. Whitaker was oblivious and you were sweet. But did you enjoy playing games with him? You could’ve at least acknowledged his presence in some minor way, didn’t he deserve that at least?

"Dr. Abbot-"

“Beat it.” The worlds flew out of Jack’s mouth before he, himself, could even consciously think about what to say. The intern opened his mouth, no words came out but it was enough for Jack to level him with that typical Jack Abbot glare for him to make himself scarce.

“Didn’t you see me?”

“Hello to you, too.” The smile on your face was sweet and lovely and Jack almost caught himself smiling at you in return. It was so easy for you to make him forget whatever mood he found himself in. Being around you automatically made everything better in his opinion.

“I didn’t know you were going out.”

“Well, you never came home so I assumed you were still busy at work. I sent you a text.” Jack flinched slightly, he had read it but hadn’t had the chance to reply before he was pulled away by an incoming head injury, but he could see that you didn’t hold any resentment against him, it was merely a statement. It wasn’t unusual for Jack to get so lost in the Pitt that he would forget to phone home to you. He always tried to, of course, but minds tend to get lost in whatever overwhelming flow of information they were the recipients of every now and then. It was a quality he sometimes wished he didn’t have.

“Sorry about that, kid.” Jack looked down at you with a tight-lipped smile and a scratch on the back of his head, feeling sheepish.

“No need to apologise. I’m glad to see you enjoying yourself.” You patted his chest affectionately before glancing over his shoulder to where he had been sitting before. Robby was watching the two of you like a hawk with a glee-filled grin on his face. He sent you a wave that would’ve probably caused you to turn the other way and flee if you didn’t already know Jack.

“Your friends are watching us.”

“Are they now?” Jack was completely uninterested in the observation. “What did that guy want?”

“What guy?” You were playing stupid with him.

“Please don’t.” Now wasn’t the time for teasing in Jack’s opinion.

“He wanted to take me home and ‘treat me right’.” Whitaker was definitely more inebriated than he had first thought. You let out a soft giggle as you relayed what the guy had said to you. You hadn’t taken anything of it seriously seeing as you were very much happy with the man you were in a committed relationship with. You just entertained the guy for less than five minutes as you knew Jack had been watching you. Maybe it was an unhealthy aspect of your relationship but you enjoyed seeing Jack get a bit worked up whenever a person would hit on you.

“I hope you told him to fuck off.” Jack’s hand had slowly crept to your hip whilst you had been talking, grabbing a possessive hold of it, urging you just a bit closer to him.

“I didn’t,” If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought that Jack was half wolf at that moment from the almost animal-like growl that tore its way through his chest. “I told him that my boyfriend would tell him that.” So, you weren’t completely out to give him a heart attack.

“Good.” Jack was just about to stoop down and place a kiss on your lips when your hand on his chest and a turn of your head stopped him.

“And just what do you think you are doing?” You tilted your head toward his colleagues to hint at the fact that you were definitely being watched.

“Kissing you?”

“Are you sure you want to do that right now?”

“Definitely.” And kiss you he did. Jack always kissed you like it was the only thing that could keep him from dying, like your kiss and your lips were his saving grace in life. You kissed him back just as eagerly, letting out a delighted moan as he bit down on your bottom lip.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

“Absolutely.”

You didn’t get far. It’s not like either of you could drive home in the state that you were in and calling a cab to come and pick you up would take too long. Jack was desperate to have you. Seeing another man hitting on you had awoken some animalistic urge inside of him and he was ready to rip the clothes off your back and mount you.

Jack needed to feel your sweet, silky walls wrapped around him as he came deep inside of you. He wanted to mark you up so that every single man, woman, and other in the entire state of Pennsylvania knew that you belonged to him. You were his and no one else's.

There was an alley just behind the bar where you were at. Of course, Jack thought you always deserved better than to be fucked in some back alley, but sometimes you had to do what you had to do. Plus, it was so secluded that not many people knew about it and it wasn’t exactly a place that saw a lot of foot traffic.

Jack pressed you up against one of the brick walls, looming over you as he kissed your cheek, down your neck, sucking very lightly before you delivered a smack to his chest.

“Don’t. I don’t want any visible marks.”

“Too bad.” You let out a sigh of defeat and Jack could almost hear the eye roll that you surely made. You were a stubborn person but so was he. You knew that sometimes he would only listen so much to whatever you were telling him.

The bricks were uncomfortable against your back but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You were far too lost in the small ripples of pleasure that were begging to turn to waves.

“Jack...” You breathed out as he hit one of your weak spots with his lips. He nibbled at your skin softly, his moustache and beard tickling your skin in that way you loved.

“I should put a ring on your finger so everyone knows you’re taken.” You let out a laugh over his mutterings. You would love a ring on your finger, but you didn’t need a ring to feel secure in your relationship with Jack. You already knew that it would be the two of you until the very end.

“Maybe a baby in your belly, too. To make it extra clear.” Now that made you moan.

“You’d like that? You want me to fill you up until you can’t take it anymore? You want me to give you a baby?” Your drenched walls clenched around nothing as Jack drove you insane with his words.

“If you’re a good girl, I’ll let you take my cum, but you have to be good for me. Can you do that?”

“Yes! Please, Jack...” Your hips bucked, seeking any sort of friction to ease the ache in your panties. The throbbing between your legs had steadily grown and had now reached a point where you could not ignore it.

Jack rutted his own hips against yours and you couldn’t help but let out a desperate moan as he rubbed against your clit deliciously.

"You want me to fuck you, sweet girl?"

"Mhmm."

Jack loved hearing you moan for him. He loved hearing the delightful squeals you would emit as he would nip on your breasts or finger you to his knuckle. He couldn’t wait to see himself leak out of you after he came so deep inside of you and fucked you so good that you would feel him for days, if not weeks.

"How badly do you want it?." Jack wanted to hear you beg. He liked hearing it, it made him even harder than he already was when you would plead for his cock.

“So badly. I need you to make me cum on your cock. Please, Jack!” You squealed in shock as he attacked your lips, devouring yours like he was a man starving. Jack was insatiable when it came to you. Biting and pulling and pecking at your lips, trying to sate the need he had for you in any way that he could. His tongue explored your mouth with a delighted moan, and you grew wetter with every wet kiss.

Jack’s hands made quick, steady work on your dress, pushing and pulling at it until it was bunched around your waist just high enough so that he could slip his hand into your panties and finally get a feel of your wet heat.

“So wet for me already, sweetheart?” A lewd grin took over his face as he ran two fingers through your slit. “Are you that desperate?”

Jack dipped his fingers into you just enough so that you could begin to feel a hint of the stretch he could give you, but not enough to please any desire.

“What do you want first? My cock or my mouth?” Waves went straight to your core as you pulled on his dark hair as you tried to not lose yourself to the overwhelming pleasure of it all too soon. How could you possibly decide?

“Anything, I’ll take anything.” You moaned out.

Jack made the decision for you, moving quickly as he dropped to his knees in front of you, not giving a fuck about the ache in his leg after a too-long shift. Didn't care about anything else in that moment except needing to get a taste of you. He was perfectly in height with your cunt, breathing hot air onto it from how close he was. He began by leaving kisses on the inside of your thighs. They were slow kisses, those kinds of kisses that you would still feel, even after his lips left your skin.

His hands caressed every inch of you that they could reach as before trailing all the way to the edge of your panties and sliding them to the side. He focused on your clit, giving it a quick rub and flick, eliciting another soft whine from you.

“You have such a pretty pussy, honey.” Jack could admire you like this for centuries and still not get enough. He would happily stay on his knees for you until the end of time.

He, rather sweetly, brought your leg over his muscular shoulder so that he could devour your seeping cunt. The obscene sounds of his wet tongue laving through your soaked folds quickly filled the quiet alley, but you could bring yourself to care if a passer-by happened to hear you. Jack’s ministrations on your pussy felt far too good to care about anything else at that moment.

“Fuck, Jack!” Your voice came out as a half whine as the bricks of the building dug into your back while you writhed in euphoria.

“You taste so fucking good, sweetheart. Been waiting for this all day.” Jack mumbled against your clit, sending glorious vibrations through the sensitive flesh. You could feel his tongue slipping into your clench hole, lapping up every single drop of juice that you were kind enough to give him.

“Oh, right there, don’t stop!” Your hands slipped into his hair, tugging at it as your thigh muscles twitched when he sucked on your clit.

“Who does this belong to?” Jack brought his pointer and middle finger to your lower lips, spreading them apart and exposing more of your oh so sensitive clit to his unrelenting mouth.

“You, Jack! Only you.”

Your hips bucked violently as he slid a finger into you. “Your pussy’s so greedy, sweetheart. You want my cock already?”

“I-” You didn’t know what you wanted at that moment. Didn’t care, as long as it brought you pleasure, you would be the grateful recipient of whatever he wanted to give you.

But Jack was determined. He was a man on a mission, practically driven mad by his insatiable hunger for you. Jack loved eating pussy, and it showed in every movement, every lick of his tongue, every suckle of his lips.

“I’m so close, Jack!” You squeaked, chest heaving as you glanced down. Jack’s eyes were shut, his wrist twisting and steadily pumping a finger in and out of you, curling it to graze against your g-spot with every move whilst he suckled and licked your clit.

“Mmm, not yet. One more minute, I’m not done.” Jack slid his finger out before grabbing your thigh firmly with one hand, his wet fingers digging into your flesh as he held your leg still for him. You were squirming, legs shaking as you fought your release.

“Please, Jack! I need to come!” Your whole body was burning, your back arched almost painfully as the pleasure kept building and building, his tongue endlessly flicking your swollen clit.

“Alright, honey, come. Come all over my fucking face,” he growled out. One, two, three more swipes of his tongue over your clit and you finally came. A half-scream barreled through the alley as your legs shook and your hands tightened almost painfully hard in the curls of his hair. Your muscles clench, thighs clamping around his shoulders as he continued sucking, licking, and nibbling over your sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, honey, so good. Such a good girl for me.” He hummed, delivering one last, long and slow lick from your entrance to your pubic bone. He kissed your clit before standing back up, wiping his mouth somewhat clean with the back of his hand as he watched you in bliss.

You were utterly breathless, slumping against the wall as your muscles twitched as the cool air hit your pussy.

Jack barely let you recover before he made quick work on his cargo pants, dropping them down just enough so that he could pull out his painfully hard and leaking cock.

You fell to your knees almost automatically, mouth-watering at the sight of him. You didn’t care about the uncomfortable gravel under your knees, needing to have a taste of him.

Your hands came up to rest on his thick thighs as you lurched forward, taking a hold of his thick shaft. You fisted his length, spreading the small bead of pre-cum over his tip with a thumb when you came to the top. You had always marvelled at the sight of him. He was so impossibly thick, your hand barely being able to wrap around him, but yet he fit so perfectly inside of you.

"Open your mouth."

You eagerly opened your mouth to take him in, letting your lips wrap around his shaft and eagerly took him in your mouth. You moaned at the taste of him and he groaned at the sight of you on your knees. Your eyes were wide and glossy, completely hazed with lust. Your mouth was hot around him, your soft moans slipping out around him.

Jack takes a steady hold on the back of your neck, guiding you firmly as you took him deep in your mouth. As dominant as his hold was on you, he still let you set the pace. You went slowly at first, teasing him as you took him in your mouth for several bobs of your head before increasing your pace. You forced your head down the length of his shaft, making you gag around him as he hit the back of your throat.

Jack had the most beautiful cock you had ever seen. It was long and thick with one perfect vein protruding from the base of it all the way to the tip that always seemed to be glistening with evidence of his arousal. It had just the right curve to reach the place where you needed him the most.

“You’re so fucking cock drunk, aren’t you, honey?”

You moaned in response. Moaned over the salty taste of his precum that set your tastebuds alight, humming in appreciation as you took him even further in your mouth, hand wrapped around the base of him, squeezing and twisting whatever you couldn’t fit. He grew impossibly harder with every suckle of your lips.

Slurping and sucking the way you knew he liked it; your throat welcoming him with each uncontrollable rut of his hips.

“That’s it, right there.” Obscene gulping sounds filled the evening air that surrounded you. Your jaw was aching and globs of saliva were spilling out around the edges of your mouth as Jack rutted into your mouth.

You bobbed your head back and forth, pushing bubbles of dribble farther down his shaft with each drive of your swollen lips.

The throbbing between your legs was almost painful at that point. Your hand travelled down your body to the apex between your thighs to relieve some of the pleasurable pain. But Jack stopped you before you could even slip your fingers into your panties. He grabbed ahold of your arm, pulling you up as softly as he could and swivelling you around as he tutted.

“You know the rules; no touching yourself allowed,” Of course, you knew the rules, but you were just so wet and ready for him that something had to be done. “But you’re just so fucking desperate? Aren’t you? Desperate for me to fuck you in this filthy alley.”

Jack tugged at his cock with one hand while the other pushed at your back so that you would bend over. You were more than happy to comply, hands coming out to brace yourself against the wall and jut your ass out, high up in the air.

His touch was electric as he slid his large hand over your ass, leaving a trail of burning fire in its wake. It tickled your skin as it made its way between your tender thighs, fingers gently sliding through your soaked lips.

Your walls clenched tightly over his teasing; your hips wiggling to try and get him to slip at least a finger into you. Jack knew what you were doing.

Jack dipped two fingers in between your lips, spreading more of your wetness up to your clit.

“You’re always so wet for me.” Jack praised in admiration. “Always so tight.” You could feel the tabs of his fingers dragging through your walls lazily.

Jack slid his fingers out, bringing them up and having a taste of you, suckling your juices off of them.

“Taste so fucking sweet.”

You were just about to beg him to fuck you when he finally slipped the head of his fat cock inside of you. However, he pulled out before you could savour the feeling, and you cried out over the loss.

“You want me? Want me to show you who you belong to?” He cooed before doing it again; sliding the head of his cock in just enough for you to feel the burn as he stretched you out before pulling back out again.

“Yes, please!” Jack was kind to you as he finally let you have it. He finally sheathed himself deep inside of you with one sharp and precise thrust that had you gasping and squeaking.

Jack didn’t give you any time to adjust, not that you really needed it with how wet you were for him. He pulled back before sliding himself back inside of your heat, shuddering at the feeling of your dripping pussy clinging to every inch of him. He didn’t start off slow; instead, he set a rapid pace, balls slapping against your clit with every thrust, but he still made sure that you could feel all of him.

Your pussy gripped Jack’s cock with every deep thrust he gave, missing him for the fraction of the second that he pulled back.

“Fuck, you feel so fucking good,” Jack growled behind you, fingers digging into your hips as he drove into you harder. You clamped down on him as he hit that spot that he knew so well.

“Fuck, Jack, I’m gonna come.” You breathed out, tits bouncing with each thrust.

Your words made Jack drive into you even harder and deeper, chasing your high for you.

“Not yet.” Jack knew you were just teetering on the edge of pleasure, he could feel it, but he wanted to prolong it for just a little while longer.

“N-no! Please, Jack!” You whimpered out a plea.

“Please, what?”

Thrust.

“Please, let me come, sir!”

Thrust.

Jackp hummed as if he was thinking it over, teasing you. “Wanna feel that cunt milking me as I shoot that cunt of yours full of cum.” You barely heard him over your moans, but your pussy definitely registered his words as your walls fluttered wildly. “Gonna make sure everybody knows who you belong to.”

You would surely feel him for days, with every step you took, from the force he was fucking into you with. Your mind had gone faint from his quick and sharp thrusts. A feeble whine escapes you and you were sure you would cry if he didn’t let you cum soon.

Jack delivered a quick slap to your left cheek and you hissed from the sting. The burn left behind momentarily distracts you from the building pressure in your stomach.

“You gonna cum for me now, honey?” Jack slammed into, the tip of his member repeatedly hitting that sweet spot inside of you. And you came with a whine through white flashes of euphoria when you felt the pads of his fingers drawing tight circles over your aching clit.

Your entire body convulsed in pure rapture and you could hear Jack behind you endlessly muttering fuck as your clenching walls triggered his own sweet release.

He pumped into you lazily a few more times, making sure to milk himself completely dry before withdrawing from you. Your legs were still shaking uncontrollably, toes curled as the last few waves of pleasure rolled over you. You slumped against the wall, face pressed against the cold brick as you tried to catch your breath.

“Fucking hell, Jack.” Sex with Jack was always glorious, but something about this fuck had been extra special.

“I really mean it. I’m going to have to keep fucking you until your belly’s so swollen that everybody can see who you belong to.”

Jack didn't regret a moment of that night. Not even when he saw the shit-eating grin on Robby's face when he sheepishly walked into The Pitt the next day.

"You never told me you like 'em that young."

[henneseyhoe]

Just One More.

Lewis Hamilton x BLACK!FEM!Reader

WARNINGS: SMUT SCENES(nun too serious)!!! HEAVY breeding kink(i couldn’t help myself), Wife!reader, pregnancy, Dad!Lewis, Lewis being a hornball, some fluff here and there,SHORT! UNEDITED FOR RN! I think that’s it!

SUMMARY: After having twin boys, Lewis begs his beloved wife for one more baby, hoping this time it’d be a girl.

|2|3|4|

✮✮✮✮

“You said one more, right? Just one more”

He smirks as he bounces you his arms, your body helplessly following with the flow as you couldn’t do anything with your legs folded how they were anyhow.

“One more” You whimper with a nod of your head, your brain not even coming close to calculating what you had gotten yourself into.

“One more, baby” He confirms with an innocent tone like he wasn’t currently folding his wife like a lawn chair, running the risk of waking your twins up even though they were down the hall.

Days passed and you couldn’t get his hands off of you, the man giving not one moment to allow you to collect yourself after a simple agreement that you’d stop taking your birth control. At the time you hadn’t even stopped yet, but he was still prevalent with his ‘you never know’, hoping somehow you’d still get pregnant.

You’d get home from work and before you were able to take your heels off he’d be warning you that the kids were asleep now so you’d have to keep it down and only asked about your day in between kisses and ripping off your shirt, the answers being halted as soon as you were bent over the arm of your couch and fucked from behind by your eager husband, the grip he had on your hips enough to bruise.

It was clear that Lewis wanted nothing more than a daughter. Of course he loved his two hard headed boys, but a daughter? She was a dream he’s had for a while now. He felt he needed a girl to soften him up after raising two little boys for five years, and he was determined to get one out of you. Lewis was ready to be surrounded by princesses, glitter, pink and hair bows.

For the last few weeks he spent time getting you alone so he could fill you to the brim, taking you down anywhere that had a lock on the door or a surface to lay you on, sometimes not even that. The first time was in the laundry room when you were drying clothes, a month after you told him yes to a baby, a day after he was 100% sure you stopped taking your pills. Closing the door behind him and setting a basket in front of the door to avoid any unwanted little guests, your husband casually pulls up your sundress as you were loading the dryer and slides your panties to the side, the man on his knees with his tongue on your clit before you could even tell him you were busy.

The next time he took you down was in his personal gym, him just finishing a workout and you in the middle of your much needed yoga to stretch your sore muscles from the damage he had done the other night. Catching you in a downward doggy position, you felt his fingers shamelessly run between your lips that were covered by your favorite gym shorts, the pads of his fingers pressing against your clit almost making your knees buckle. You slowly look up from your position, making eye contact with him in the mirror in front of you.

“May I help you, Mr. Hamilton?” You ask.

“You already know what I want, Mrs. Hamilton” He responds back in a sing-song tone and before you knew it you were getting creamed on a workout bench, Lewis using his fingers to stuff what had spilled when he pulled out back inside of your pussy. You sat there tired and absolutely bewildered with how feral your husband could get sometimes. Last time he was on ten like this you two scored twins, and you could only pray the twins that run in your family wouldn’t catch up to you again.

The next day you thought you were free of the teenage boy-ish sex drive your husband had. The twins were home and using the living room as their personal playroom though they had their own, and you took that as an excuse to distract them with toys as you read your favorite book in the kitchen where you could see them. Unluckily for you, the ADHD they inherited gave them the ability to not exactly not focus, but focus a little too much. Lewis had turned on their favorite show and made sure the volume was three notches higher than what it was supposed to be before sneaking into the kitchen with you.

You could feel he was up to something as you side eyed him from the sitting nook, but surprisingly he walked right by you, your eyes following him all the way to your home office. He knew you hated him in there.

You slam down you book after marking your page and follow after him, only to realize you had been duped when you heard the door close and lock behind you. You were starting to almost regret telling him your ovulation cycle.

✮✮✮✮

When you two got the news that it was twins, you were both in shock, Lewis a bit more over the moon than you of course because who wants to incubate twins for the second time around, but you both were happy nonetheless. The real kicker was finding out that one of them was a boy, and the other unknown.

“What do you mean you can’t see it? Is there something wrong?” You asked nervously and Lewis squeezes your hand, already knowing how your nerves were.

“Well, not really. The problem is that twin A is still blocking twin B. This is your last few weeks and it’s a bit camped in there now, so they’re kinda just laying in an uncomfortable position. Even if I were to do a vaginal ultrasound, it’d be pretty hard to tell” Your doctor chuckles, making you sigh in relief and look at Lewis, his face unreadable.

When you two left the building and went home, you could tell Lewis was a bit disappointed.

“You okay?” You ask, holding the hand he had placed on your thigh as he watched TV. He nods and gives you a small smile, his eyes not moving from the screen.

“You know I wanted a girl, but obviously god has other plans. It’s okay, really”

You hum. “…Look on the bright side, baby B might be a girl” You smile back, your husband laughing and shaking his head.

“Let’s be real! It’s gonna be two boys again”

“You don’t know that”

“I do. And it’s okay…We’ll always have another time to try for a girl” He smiles wider, looking to you.

You blink for a moment, realizing he was serious. “…Another time?! You are out of your mind!” You hit his arm and he groans, begging you in the mist of your refusals.

“Absolutely not, Lewis! You said just one more months ago and that one more turned into two!”

“So you wouldn’t want to try again if they’re both boys? Really?”

“Lewis, if this one is a boy, I might move out. That’s your answer!” Lewis bursts into laughter as your hand moves to your round belly, feeling a kick hit right below your belly button.

“And one of them is beating on me right now! I can’t live in a house with five boys, I can’t even believe I let three of them plus an alleged one stay inside me”

“Well…Four plus an alleged one. One of them was just on and off..In and out” You gasp at his dirty joke and shove him again, more laughs erupting from him.

✮✮✮✮

💌:i’ll probably make another part to this just cause Dad!Lewis is superior and maybe write an actual smut too idk yet

[shadesoftheshield]

the closer we get to the date the more i think seth should bring back the 2014 dye job

the important question now is: what is seth going to wear for Wrestlemania?

[burrowdarling]

Like I Do (18+)

Summary: It had been a rough time for you since the Bengals season came to an end, it felt like nothing could go your way. Instead of letting Joe in, you shut him out. He takes his time showing you what you mean to him the best way he knows how.

Pairings: boyfriend!Joe Burrow x girlfriend!reader

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: oral (female receiving), praise, dirty talk, feeling down, negative talk, definitely missing stuff so MDNI

Note: Hi! Surprise! This was something that came to mind and I just sat and busted it out while watching the games today. I do still have a texting fic coming out in the morning as planned, so take this as a bonus. I hope you all enjoy! (not proofread, apologies!)

Word Count: 3.2k

Check out my Masterlist here!

Taglist: @burrowbarbie @definitelynotdomanique @one-sweet-gubler @plushkhiii @enchantedinfinity @iosivb9 @hellsingalucard18 @hotburreaux Feel free to comment or message me if you'd like to be added to the list!

You started the week, feeling like you could take on the world. You made a plan, things seemed to be going well enough at work, it was as if nothing could bring you down from your high. Except there was something and that feeling of invincibility didn’t last very long unfortunately. After the games on Sunday, you could feel it in Joe too. The tension in the household was prevalent, making it hard to keep up the peppy act when you weren’t feeling in very high spirits either. Sure, you were used to your mood sometimes feeling low, able to push through the week while you looked forward to the weekend. This week just felt particularly tough. Everything felt like an uphill battle, getting yourself out of bed, managing your workload with being back in the office, and keeping the house together. Joe had been busy himself with some meetings about changes to the team, putting in long days at the facility and drowning himself in workouts at the gym or film in his office. You knew this was typical for him, but with your current state it felt like the world was closing in around you.

As if the tension at home wasn’t enough, you had to hear it from your coworkers, the guys specifically, about the Bengals not making the playoffs. It was as if they knew exactly what they were doing, feigning for a rise out of you. The feeling of your skin heating everytime it comes up while trying to maintain your composure. You knew Joe tried his hardest to get them to even have a possible chance, realizing other people didn’t think the same way. Your social media was flooded too from “fans” making comments about how Joe could do better than you, he was too successful to be with “someone like you”. Making statements about how Joe didn’t need anyone holding him back, acting like they knew him and his best interests.

It wasn’t just what people said though, it felt like anything you wore didn’t suit you. You were usually a confident person, able to brush off any negativity that was thrown your way. Secure in your style, your personality, especially your relationship with Joe. He always made you feel like you were the only girl in the world. Recently, with him being gone as much as he was, it was easy to feel like he was doing it out of spite. Maybe he was reading the same things you were and was too much of a coward to admit it to your face. You knew deep down these thoughts weren’t true, but they were too loud to shut out. You were getting sick and tired of all of the outside noise. Instead of drowning it out like usual, you found it to be suffocating. It was pulling you into a spiral, one you haven’t felt in ages. You felt like you weren’t good enough, pretty enough, capable even.

There were times, when one thing could knock you down by the knees and make you feel weak. It would shut down some of your defenses, making you more susceptible to nitpicking and criticism. You knew what you signed up for when you started dating Joe, willing to persevere with whatever life would throw at you to be the person you loved. Everything else just felt so heavy that you started to believe some of the things they were saying. If everyone says he’s better off, I’ll make sure I’m out of his way.

You tried your best to throw yourself into your work, getting as head as you were able to distract yourself from your thoughts that were swirling. You stopped putting in as much effort to your clothes, wearing anything you could that wouldn’t bring attention to your frame. You stuck to your office, only being around your coworkers when you had to, which even then you tried your best to avoid at all costs.

As the week went on, Joe started to be around more which made him harder to avoid. Things were finally ironing out for a plan for the next season, making him more available and able to start enjoying his offseason with the person he loved. He knew he was being a jerk unintentionally, leaving early and coming home late to get things done. He knew he had a tendency for throwing himself into things and blocking out everything else, the repercussion being that you were caught in the crossfire. He never meant to hurt you, he was trying to do better and be better for you, more present even when it was hard. With the offseason starting, he knew he needed to make you a priority. The only problem was that it seemed like you were avoiding him.

Joe wanted to do better, show you how much he cared for you and everything you did for him. He knew he couldn’t make up for how he's acted or the lost time together, but he could start now by putting his best foot forward. Joe was able to see how much time and effort you put into making your house a home, wanting to do something nice back for you. He knew how much you loved his cooking, a rarity during the season due to his hectic schedule. He made a nice meal for you, cooked your favorite while he set the table with flowers and candles. He waited by the door for you to get home, feeling like an eternity before you finally walked through the door.

He took in your appearance, your clothing a lot baggier than you usually wore. You had dark circles under your eyes, your shoulders were dropped low and were visibly shrinking into yourself. His heart was cracking in two, not being able to shake the feeling like he was the one that did this to you. If he was around more, gave you more of his attention. He could only hope that thing would go up from here.

“Hi hunny, I made us some dinner. I hope you’re hungry, it’s your favorite,” Joe said, opening his arms to embrace you. You stepped into his arms, lightly wrapping your arms around his waist. It was nothing compared to your usual hug, feeling half-ass and resistant. Joe tried to shake it off, wondering if you were just tired.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just a long day,” was all you said, letting him go and walking towards the table where Joe had everything set. You felt tears well up in your eyes, doing everything in your power to hold them back. You wouldn’t let him see you break down, not when you saw just how much effort he put into tonight. The inner voice in your head nagged at you, telling you that you didn’t deserve this, him. You tried your best to stifle it, to get through dinner so then you could take the time to be alone.

Dinner was mostly silent, your responses were short and sweet to any conversation he attempted to start with you. Joe was trying his hardest to pull you out of this funk you were in, bringing up anything and everything to get you to talk. You silently cleared the table, trying your best to stay out of Joe’s reach. You were aware of his attempts, but you were too absorbed in your negative spiral to truly see he was trying.

“I’m gonna go shower” you said quietly as you started to walk out of the kitchen.

“Can I join you?” Joe asked, hopeful to have some time to reconnect with you. He missed you, all of you.

“I’ll just take one myself, take some alone time” your voice slightly wavering at the direct confrontation, your eyes facing the floor not able to meet Joe’s gaze.

Joe wasn’t having any of it, always showering with you whenever he had the chance to. It was something you both enjoyed, treating it as a way to reconnect with one another at the end of the day. He could tell there was something off with you, having a feeling he knew part of what was happening. You were avoiding his touch, sleeping just out of his reach whenever you got too close.You were making sure to keep your distance, though it was painful to do it.

You were stopped short before you could fully leave the kitchen. You felt Joe’s large hand circle around your smaller wrist, stopping you in your tracks. His touch instantly brought you a sense of relief, you didn’t know how much you truly missed him.

“Come with me” Joe said, sliding his hand down to meet your hand while guiding you up the stairs to your shared bedroom. He didn’t let go of your hand until he stopped in front of your floor length mirror that was sitting in the corner of your shared bedroom. He lightly pulled you so that you were standing in front of him, letting him loom behind you, your height difference evident.

“Why am I in front of our mirror?” You questioned, looking at him through the reflection.

“Tell me what you see,” Joe said, looking straight ahead, his voice coming off low and firm. 

You tilted your head to the side, confused “me and you?”

“No, tell me what you see when you look at yourself” he settled his hands on your hips, his grip tender as he stroked your hips gently with his thumbs creating goosebumps across your skin.

Your eyes caught his in the mirror, feeling more comfortable than holding your own stare. 

“Don’t look at me, sweetheart, look at you. Tell me all the good things you see.”

It was hard to hold your own stare when you were wishing you could look anywhere else. Joe could read you like a book, could tell you were feeling off about yourself. He was always the first one to reassure you whenever he got the chance, this time you never gave him one. It seemed like he was taking matters into his own hands.

“But you’re so much nicer to look at” you said with a light laugh, but Joe wasn’t having any of it. His eyes told you everything you wanted to know and directed your gaze back to yourself, I’m not playing games.

“Umm, I like my eyes,” you said, sounding more like you were trying to convince yourself rather than tell Joe.

Joe lightly chuckled behind you. “Why?”

“I like how they change colors depending on what I’m wearing, I can always make them look nice whenever I do makeup.”

“So you like your eyes, how they change.” Joe moved his head so that he was resting his jaw against the top of yours, using you as a chin rest though his eyes never left yours. “Tell me what else.”

“I don’t want to come off like I’m bragging or anything, not like there’s much to-”

“Pointing out what makes you beautiful isn’t bragging, it’s stating facts. Though you could brag about it all you want, I wouldn’t be opposed.”

“I guess I like my hair, though I feel like it’s too short for my face since I got it cut.”

“I like it short, it makes it easy for me to see all the cute little faces you make or when I make you blush.”

Like clockwork, your cheeks immediately started to heat at his admission. 

“My boobs could be bigger.”

“Your boobs are perfect, they fit just right in my hands,” he says as his hands slide up your front and rest on your chest. You feel his breath catch in his throat at his discovery. “No bra?”

You shook your head, meeting his eyes again in the mirror, “I have felt like putting one on to be honest, felt like extra effort.”

He dropped his hands to the hem of your sweatshirt, looking at you for permission to take it off. With a soft nod, he slipped the fabric over your head, leaving you shirtless and feigning for his touch to be back on your skin. Joe moaned at the sight of you topless, he always loved your tits.

“I want you to see what I see. A beautiful, sexy woman who I get to call mine. It’s not just your outer beauty either, you have so many other wonderful qualities about you that I fall harder for each and every day.”

Joe moved to be in front of the mirror, turning his body to face me. He gave me a mischievous wink before dropping to his knees in front of me.

“I’m gonna eat you out while you watch yourself in that mirror. You’re gonna see exactly what I get the pleasure of seeing every time I go down on you, every time I get you under me or riding me. The one catch is you have to keep your eyes there, if you stop then I stop. Got it, sweetheart?”

You couldn’t help, but laugh at the absurdity of the situation. It was truly a challenge he was posing, one that made your skin prickle with heat just thinking about it. “And how exactly are you gonna know if I stop?”

“Easy, my eyes will be on you making sure your eyes are on yourself.”

With his gaze never leaving yours, he grabs ahold of the top of your jeans and pulls them down, taking your panties with them as they slip down your legs. Joe paused to slip the sneakers off your feet before completely taking the clothing from your legs, leaving you naked standing above him.

“Absolutely fucking beautiful” he mumbled, with his gaze on your legs as he ran his hands up your bare skin. Joe paused at your knees, moving to spread you open. His hands continued up your thighs to spread you wider, the anticipation burning hotter inside of you. When Joe’s eyes land on your pussy, you sink your teeth into your lower lip to fight back a groan, feeling your heart rate increase by the look in his eyes.

“Look at you, already so wet for me.” Joe licked a quick stripe through your center, immediately making your head fall back. He gave you a quick smack to your thigh, pulling you out of your trance. “All for me?”

“Always for you,” you whispered, a sharp intake of breath hitting your lungs when he trails his fingers gently through your slit finishing his pass with a short brush to your clit. Your body felt electric, his touch igniting you leaving heat in its wake. 

Your comment earned a strong groan from Joe in response,”now that sounds like my girl.”

He placed gentle kisses to both of your hip bones, showering you with praises each time his lips touched your skin. It was like he was slowly putting you back together one kiss at a time.

“Beautiful.” kiss.

“Smart.” kiss.

“Kind.” kiss.

"Funny." kiss.

“Generous.” kiss.

“Stunning.” kiss.

You lost track of how many, the praises continually spilling out of his mouth. Making his way across your belly as he trailed his way to the apex of your thighs at a painstakingly slow pace, at least to you. It felt like an eternity passed before he finally had his mouth on you, 

Everything felt overwhelming, it getting harder and harder to keep your eyes open let alone on yourself in the mirror. It felt like his touch was everywhere, your senses heightened. Everything he did felt amazing, your hands were knotted through his hair as you held on, trying your best to stay standing. His mouth was relentless on your wet heat, taking everything he could get from you. It was hard for you to admit to yourself, but you looked hot like this. You had this god of a man on his knees before you, his mouth devouring you like you were his last meal. You let the feeling wash over you, a moan slipping past your lips as you looked down at Joe.

Sure as shit, his eyes were on you, watching your every move. He smiled against your pussy briefly before getting back into the moment and sucking your clit into his mouth. Slipping two of his slender fingers into you, he began to pump them in and out, slow at first and gradually increasing speed. He arched them just right, hitting your spot with the right amount of pressure time after time. You could feel the knot building in your stomach, finding it hard to hold back any longer.

“I’m not gonna last long,” you breathed out, unsure of your voice.

“You don’t need to hold back, come for me. I want to taste you pretty girl.”

It didn’t take much to fall apart above him, his name falling past your lips in rapid succession as your orgasm washed over you. You rode out your high, pulling his head more into your pussy, earning a satisfied groan from Joe at your actions. He always loved when you would tackle what you needed from him.Your orgasm felt more intense standing up, leaning on Joe for support while you gained your bearings.

When you finally came to, you released Joe from your grip and let him up for air. Your hands trailed down from his hair to his jaw, lifting his chin to meet your eyes.

“I’m sorry for how I acted. Everything just became so heavy this week and I know how hard everythings been for you, I didn’t want to put anything else on your plate,” you said honestly, watching Joe’s eyes soften at your words.

“You can always come to me with whatever you’re feeling no matter how I am, don’t you ever forget that. You’re so goddamn important to me.”

You smiled down at him, following him as he stood up from the floor, his eyes never leaving yours as he towered over you. He brought his hands to rest on your hips, pulling you into him to rest his forehead on yours.

“So how do you feel now, hmm? It was so hot watching you, I could see when you really saw it in the mirror. My girl finally is realizing just how much of a goddess she is.”

A new wave of blush crept up your cheeks, you knew he was right. It was hard to admit that this worked as well as it did. You had a new wave of confidence in yourself, knowing you could take what you want, what you deserved. Joe had a way of making you feel confident in yourself, you just needed a reminder. 

“I don’t want it to go to my head or anything, but there was something about having you on your knees for me. Having someone as strong and powerful as you at my mercy was a major confidence boost. I’d want you with less clothes next time though.”

“Baby, I’m always at your mercy, you're my absolute weakness. I’ll be on my knees for you anytime, anywhere just say the word. You were a good girl and listened to me though and good girls get rewarded. Get on the bed, I’m not done showing you yet.”

[muletia]

[tfp] obsessed!optimus prime x human!reader

summary: you cuddle, that's it :)

cw: fluff, comfort, pinch of angst, established relationship, silliness, extremely self-indulgent, the idea spawned in my head and i had to write it immediately

word count: 1200

an: for the anons and non-anons in my inbox: i see you and i appreciate every ask you sent me, some ideas are really lovely and cute and i will write drabbles about them. i just don't want to force myself to write 24/7 because i get burn out very easily, so it may take me some time to answer you all :DD

You can see it in his optics right away. Sadness, regret, exhaustion. He’s utterly drained, even if his frame doesn’t betray it. Always upright, with perfect posture, to set an example, to be a symbol for his people. But you’ve seen through that facade for a long time now.

He approaches you, a small human sitting on his berth with a book in your hands, wrapped in a blanket. And even despite the exhaustion, despite the chaos undoubtedly storming in his processor, he smiles at you. It's faint, but tender, joyous just to be in your presence.

“Hey,” you greet him softly, returning his smile. “How did the mission go?”

“Greetings, my dearest. Unfortunately, it did not end in success.”

“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. Do you... want to talk about it?”

The smile fades, replaced by bitterness. The Prime returns, the leader is back. As much as he wanted to tell you everything, the wound was too fresh, too raw. He wasn’t ready to revisit those memories—not yet. He would rather think of you, only you. That was his plan for tonight, for the scraps of time you had left together. It was enough for you to just be by his side, to meet his gaze now and then, to smile. He wouldn’t ask for more; he wouldn’t dare.

“I sincerely apologize, but I do not feel comfortable discussing it at this moment. However, I shall divulge the details to you later.”

“All right, I totally understand. I don't want to push you into anything.”

“For that, I am deeply grateful.”

“But! Are you sure there’s nothing I can do for you?”

“Your presence alone suffices for me.”

You weren’t entirely convinced. Optimus never asked for more. Never demanded, never took the lead. Sometimes he would request but never initiate. You wonder how you even ended up as a couple. How long he must have suppressed his feelings before you realized your own. But you quickly push those thoughts aside. They’re painful and, most importantly, they belong to the past.

“I don’t know... that feels like it’s not enough.” You know he’s about to protest, to launch into a monologue about how he doesn’t expect more from you, so you cut him off. “Wait. I know what you’re going to say, but this time, I want to actually help you. Have you ever... cuddled?"

His optics widen slightly. He wasn’t expecting that question, nor your assertiveness. But now, he’s profoundly grateful for it.

“I am familiar with the term, though I have never partaken in… cuddling. On Cybertron, other customs of expressing affection were prevalent.”

You’ll have to ask him about that later.

“I see. Would you like to cuddle now?”

Your question catches him off guard. He hesitates. If he says ‘yes,’ he’ll be stepping into completely uncharted territory, stripped of control over himself, entirely at your mercy. If he says ‘no,’ he’ll miss the experience of human affection, of tasting a relationship from your perspective, a human perspective. And it might hurt your feelings, which was the last thing he wanted.

“Yes,” he whispers.

Your wide smile is reward enough for him, though the best is yet to come.

You slide the blanket off one side of your body and pat the empty space beside you. The message is clear, and Optimus knows what to do. Fortunately, he still has enough energy to mass-displace, which he does in a matter of seconds, shrinking to a still-imposing three meters.

“Amazing,” you whisper.

He kneels on both knees to reduce the height difference even further. You’ll still have to climb onto his thighs to make the hug work, but you appreciate the effort. Now, it’s all in your hands.

Even in this position, he’s perfect—straight back, arms resting neatly by his sides. A few indecent ideas cross your mind; you know exactly how to take advantage of his submissiveness towards you. But those plans are for later. This is not the time to be lewd.

“If you feel uncomfortable, let me know right away,” you say, approaching him slowly.

You climb onto his thighs, watching his expression closely for any sign of discomfort, for anything he might not voice but would betray through body language. Luckily, you find nothing—not even when you’re face-to-face with him.

With your fingertips, you gently caress the metal where a human would have a cheek. You’re delicate, exploring uncharted territory. Stroking his cheek as a titan was one thing, but this form was new to you, just as it was to him. So you take your time, allowing him to adjust to the new circumstances, to this form of affection. Your hands move to the back, brushing against his audials until they encircle his entire helm. You shift slightly to the side to complete the embrace, wrapping your arms around his neck and resting your head against the side of his.

You don’t expect him to return the hug. This time, you expect nothing from him. This is an experiment, a trial. You just want him to stop thinking about everything that happened on the mission and start thinking about the here and now. To focus on you, on the skin-to-metal contact, on the fact that, for now, he doesn’t have to return to the battlefield. That he’s safe. So you’re surprised when you feel heavy hands on your back, enveloping you completely. But you don’t comment; you don’t say a word about it. You let him, because he deserves it.

His world narrows down to you. To your hair, tickling the back of his helm, to the warm skin pressing against his metal. To your softness, your breath, your heartbeat. To your scent, which he knows so well. You surround him from every angle, allowing him to forget the failure he suffered today. You fill his processor, already overloaded with thoughts of you, with even more admiration for your actions—for how you wanted to help him, even though he never asked you to. You are his universe, his galaxy, his sun around which he orbits. His alpha and omega, his beginning and his end.

This position and action are foreign to him, uncharted, incomparable to any other sensation. It wasn’t like holding you on his shoulder; it wasn’t like reminiscing about your smile. This was something new, far more intimate, and not yet fully understood by him. But it was beautiful and captivating. Raw.

“Everything will be all right,” you assure him, your voice resonating through his entire frame. “Everything is all right.” He believes you.

He can’t tell how long the two of you remain locked in each other’s embrace, but eventually, he feels you shifting. The last thing he wants to do now is let you go, still lost in your closeness, but he has no intention of holding you against your will. He releases you from his grasp, and you pull back from his chassis, leaving behind an unpleasant coldness. He wants you back there, pronto.

“Did you like it?” you ask with a smile, your thumb starting to stroke his cheek.

“Immensely,” he replies, looking into your eyes. A smile creeps onto his faceplate. “Might I request another cuddle?”

[snickerdoodlles]

can we really? because that's not been my experience in this fandom.

western fandom has a consistent problem in overriding other cultures with their own. emphasis on western holidays/traditions, western folklore/stories, western customs, the specific way western cultures engage with queer topics/politics. this happens constantly for all eastern media, but to me it's always seemed particularly egregious for Thai media and esp Thai bl (tbf, this is potentially because it's one of my bigger online spaces while also not being a big space so it's just what I'm seeing more of, but it is so bad). people often push back with either "it's just a joke" or "you can't expect everyone to just know everything about [other culture] just for fanfic/fandom," except that only applies when people have made the effort to learn about that culture. it's not an excuse to ignore it completely.

and what's so mind-boggling to me about moonlight chicken in particular is the constant sectioning of Jim, Wen, and Li Ming into "different generations of queer." They aren't! Jim was running a restaurant while happily in an open queer relationship with his boyfriend, yet the fucking number of times I've had to see "lol internalized homophobia" (do you guys know what internalized homophobia means) or "he's from a different generation of queer where theyre resigned to being queer" (fucking WHAT?!) posts is overwhelming huge to the number of times I've seen posts that acknowledge or engage with moonlight chickens extremely pointed narrative that social acceptance is not enough when the law does not protect queer people's rights and what happened to Jim can still happen to Wen, still happen to Li Ming. (I have seen. 2 posts that engage with it. one of which was mine. I blocked the tag for a good 8 months because it was so overwhelmingly "lol internalized homophobia" posts.)

I genuinely don't mean this comment directly to you. I don't mean this as a "no fun allowed" comment either, but Thai bl fandom, moonlight chicken fandom esp, is so. bad. about ignoring the heavily Thai cultural elements of its narrative that none of the jokes are funny in the larger fandom context.

its so weird seeing posts that mock uncle jim for worrying about li ming's queerness as though his dead boyfriend's parents (legally) stealing his entire life savings and leaving him to manage a restaurant business specifically because gay couples aren't legally recognized as couples wasn't what put him in a cycle of crushing debt and endless poverty in the first place

[mononijikayu]

multo — fushiguro megumi.

“Do I really seem that broken to you?” you asked, your voice tired, raw. “No, not at all.” he said. “You just seem like someone who’s still looking for the parts they lost.” And something about the way he said that. It was quiet. Almost all too knowing. That had made your heart twist. Because he was looking too. You could see it. And he’d been looking longer than you knew.

GENRE: alternate universe - grim reaper au;

WARNING/S: mythical beings and creatures, aged up megumi, heavy angst, romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/comfort, depression, memory loss, emotional distress, hurt, mourning, loneliness, pain, humor, guilt, pining, conflicted relationship, emotional distress, grief, past lives, reincarnation, character death, depiction of character death, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of panic attack, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of loneliness, grim reaper! megumi, grim reaper! reader;

WORD COUNT: 12k words

NOTE: multo being a prevalent song in the opm sphere right now, i cannot avoid it. and now here we are, a sequel to forg_tful. i think in some ways, this was bound to happen. there was so much more to tell. plus, this is an excuse to write for megumi. anyway, i hope you enjoy it!!! thanks to @areyna for beta reading for this one, as usual!!! i love you all <3

masterlist

if you want to, tip! <3

IT WAS HARD TO DEAL WITH THIS SITUATION, EVEN IF ITS HIS NORMAL. Yet he lived a life of conundrums, after all this time. He was always precise, he liked getting things figured out.

Still, many decades having come and gone, Fushiguro Megumi was still living a life where he didn’t know what to do when it came to you. You, who was the head of the Special Cases Division in the League of Grim Reapers. His subordinate. And he hated it.

You were always there. Not just around but completely and utterly present. Wholly, extraordinarily there. You were at every cursed site. You picked up every urgent late-night call.

Every blood-soaked step he took deeper into the mess of death and decay. Clipboard in hand. Voice like frost. With eyes that saw right through him.

He couldn’t remember a time before you. He wasn’t sure there was one. It wasn’t just the work. It wasn’t even the case. It was you. It was you who consumed his mind at every little mission that needed to be dealt with. It was you whom he couldn’t help but have a glance at. 

The way you tilted your head slightly when he spoke an order, like you were listening to more than his words. The way your beautiful gaze lingered just long enough to make him wonder if you knew. And in the silence of his dreams, you did.

You were always there, too. Just calmly standing in the dark.  Sometimes with blood on your hands. Sometimes with your hand in his. Sometimes you were there smiling back at him. Sometimes you weren’t even looking at him. He never asked what that meant. You never offered in each and every dream. That was the game you played with him.

He hated how you moved like you were made of secrets. How you never flinched when he got angry, or cold, or tired of pretending. How you could sit across from him in silence and make it feel louder than a battlefield.

Each and every time he found himself alone, Fushiguro Megumi was certain that this would be the moment. This would be the moment he’d finally sit down, let the silence devour him, and wish, with everything in him, that it would just stop. All of it. The cases. The ghosts. The dreams. You.

He didn’t know how many times he’d had that thought, curled up in a chair long past midnight, staring at reports he couldn’t bring himself to file. He wanted it to be over. He wanted to forget you.

You who was like a ghost haunting him in each and every dream, every waking flash of memory that made his chest ache and his fists clench. And he tried.

He approached the Head Office. He went in determined, carefully filing the paperwork. Sat across from officials who asked sterile questions in sterile rooms.They called it a memory severance. It was very clean cut. It was clinical. Most of all, it was final.

But it was Gojo Satoru who stopped him. Gojo, of all people. The one who teased him relentlessly, who rarely took anything seriously. He’d gone to him thinking maybe, just maybe he'd understand what he was going through.

Yet, he did not expect the reaction he got. If anything, it was not how it was supposed to go. He remembered the way Gojo had gone unusually quiet.

And he never got quiet, he was not the type to be like that. Megumi remembered the way he took off his sunglasses like something sacred was being spoken aloud.

"You’re really gonna go through with that?” he asked, almost softly.

Megumi said nothing in reply, still looking down on the floor.

Gojo Satoru merely looked at him, sighing heavily.

This was not something that was to be taken lightly, Megumi realized.

“Does she mean that much to you?” Gojo prodded gently.

Megumi’s jaw clenched. “No. That’s the problem.”

“Lying like that can hurt your head.” Gojo tilted his head, frowning just slightly. “Hm….maybe she means too much to you.”

Megumi swallowed hard. “I just… I can’t keep living like this. Every case, every report, every night, she’s there. I’m not even sure if I feel anything real anymore, or if it’s just....something left over from before. Some kind of cosmic echo I’m not strong enough to shut out.”

Gojo leaned forward, voice dropping into something serious—an oddity from him. “You do know what happens when you go through with it, right?”

“I forget her. That’s the point.”

“No, no.” Gojo said, voice tight. “It’s more than forgetting. You’ll break the bond.”

Megumi looked up. “Bond?”

Gojo exhaled, like this was something he’d hoped he’d never have to explain. “Yeah. You didn’t notice that’s why Yuuta doesn’t remember Rika?”

“Yuuta–senpai did that?” Megumi blinked.

“There’s a reason she’s still showing up for you and why Rika doesn’t for Yuuta. There’s a reason she’s tied to your missions, to your life, to your dreams.”

He paused. Then, quietly, he sighs. “You two have something akin to something ancient, well something deep and remarkable. It’s something older than the work, older than this system, older than me—hell, older than you.”

Megumi blinked, cold sweat prickling at the back of his neck. “You’re saying this is fate?”

“I’m saying it’s a thread no one can break, other than you and her.” Gojo said, gazing direct and unblinking. “And if you cut it, that’s it. There’s no finding her again. There’s no being together again. Not in this life. Not the next.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. He felt uncomfortable with those words. It felt unnatural, for him to not see you. Not knowing you. He didn’t want to not know you, in the next life or the life after that.

He was just exhausted. Exhausted from knowing that you were in this miserable life now, just like him. He could see it in the way you handled every soul you took.

Every broken, bloody case. He knew that this was the misery of seeing you slowly slip away from everything you used to be. He knew that it was just everything that wasn't supposed to be.

You were too pure for this. Too good. And here you were, getting your hands dirty in a way that felt like poison to him.You weren’t supposed to be like this.

You were never supposed to be bound by the same fate he was. You weren’t supposed to stand next to him, cold and hollow, covered in blood and the weight of unspoken burdens.

You used to laugh. You used to live. And now, Megumi could see the shadow of that light growing fainter, as if each passing day was pulling you further away from the person he remembered. The person he couldn’t forget. The person he couldn’t stop loving.

He wanted to turn back time. He wanted to do something, anything. Just so he could stop you from becoming this creature you were never meant to be. He didn’t want you here. Not like this. Not with him. And he didn’t want to remember you this way.

But no matter how many times he tried to look away, you always found your way back into his thoughts. Into his nightmares. And he couldn’t figure out why that was. He couldn’t figure out how to fix it.

Fushiguro Megumi tried to speak. He opened his mouth, his throat tight, but the words died on his tongue. Gojo’s voice, low and firm, sliced through the silence like a razor. “You’re going to forget her, Megumi.”

Megumi froze, the weight of those words anchoring him in place. Gojo Satoru was watching him carefully, bright blue eyes behind his sunglasses unreadable, but the seriousness in his tone was unmistakable.

“I can’t stress this enough to you, kid.” Gojo continued, his voice quieter now, almost soothing, like he was trying to make it easier. “This is not a one–time thing.”

Megumi felt the air in the room grow heavier, suffocating. He knew where this was going. He knew the real and bitter truth, but hearing it from Gojo’s mouth made it real. Made it truly and horribly final.

“You’ll break the bond. Forever.” Gojo whispered.

Megumi’s breath hitched. He could feel his heart drop in his chest, heavy like lead. “Stop.”

“Once you say you want to forget,” Gojo continued, his voice a soft warning now, “she’s gone for you.”

“I said stop!”

Gojo Satoru did in fact stop talking when he asked. He felt like he was going to be sick. He felt like he was going to hyperventilate. That word was sickening. Gone. Gone like she’d never been a part of his life. Gone like he had never fallen in love with you. Gone like a thread severed — unraveling and vanishing.

He would lose you, all of you, everything of you. Not just your presence, but the connection. The history he had with you. All the lives. All the memories. Everything. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t even think.

Gojo’s bright eyes softened for just a moment, like he understood. Like he knew what this was doing to him. But the damage was already done. The words were spoken. There was no taking them back.

And Megumi? He was caught between the agony of keeping you, keeping the connection, the pull, the ache in his chest and the horrifying reality that keeping you meant watching you fall further into this fate. This world. This curse.

“I don’t know if I can….I….” Megumi whispered, barely audible, to no one in particular. His voice was raw. “I don’t know if I want to forget.”

Gojo didn’t answer immediately. He just stood there, waiting. Watching. Finally, his voice was soft. “I know. I know.”

But was it? Was forgetting you really the answer? Or would it just be another lie? Another piece of him that would slip away, just like you were slipping from his reach? Would he really do this? Megumi couldn’t help but swallow the bile down his throat.

“It’s up to you, okay?” Gojo says in response to him. “I’m not here to judge you for choosing your peace of mind, if you do.”

Gojo turns to his desk and starts writing something on a small piece of paper. Megumi looks at him. Gojo pushes the paper into his space for him to take. Megumi slowly takes it. He looks at the information written on it in his boss’s neat handwriting. 

“Tell Shoko I said hi. She’ll go and help you.”

Megumi looked at the paper longer than he should have.

He nodded at him absent–mindedly and began walking away.

He doesn’t know what to do.

DESPITE IT ALL, THE PAPER DIDN’T MAKE ITSELF USEFUL. Fushiguro Megumi didn’t go through with the memory severance. Not that day. Not the next. Not even on his next day off. He just couldn’t find it in himself to go and actually make the appointment.

But he couldn’t sleep after that conversation.bEvery time he closed his eyes, he saw your face again. The faint light behind your gaze, the strange sadness in your smile. And every time he woke up, the ache in his chest felt deeper. Older. Like it belonged to someone who’d already lived through this once before.

He hated it. Hated not knowing what to do. He hated how you were everywhere and nowhere all at once. And more than anything — he hated not understanding everything about this. How did you even become a grim reaper? How did you even end up here?

You weren’t like the others. You weren’t even like him, a foolish young man who decided to be unfilial and kill his father to protect his sister.  You didn’t have the cold detachment most of them wore like armor. You weren’t bitter. You weren’t angry. You weren’t dead inside — you just looked like you’d forgotten how to be alive.

There was something off about it. Something is wrong. And he didn’t like it. He didn’t like this feeling. He didn’t like where this was heading in his head. He had to know. He had to understand how you came to be here.

So, he asked.

He caught Gojo Satoru on one of his rare, quieter days seated on the rooftop of a botanical garden, bright blue eyes hidden behind tinted lenses, spinning a lollipop between his fingers. Megumi furrowed his brows.

“I have a question for you.” Megumi said, tone low.

“And good afternoon to you, kid. Seriously, you didn’t even find the time to greet your elders. Do it again.”

“Good afternoon.”

“Much better—”

“I have a question.”

“Only one?” Gojo smirked, fixing his posture. “Getting lazy.”

“I don’t care about that either.”

“Well, that’s just rude.”

“Just answer the question I’m about to ask.”

Gojo sighed. “Alright, alright. What’s it about?”

“It’s about her.” Megumi said.

Gojo’s smile faded. He turned his head, just slightly. Listening. “Okay, but—”

“How did she become a grim reaper?” Megumi asked. “She doesn’t move like someone trained for this. I know she isn’t. Her past lives prove that. She reacts before she thinks. Like it’s muscle memory….like she’s done this before, just not… here. Not like this.”

Gojo was silent for a long time. The wind brushed past them.

Finally, he said, “That’s not up to me to question.”

Megumi frowned. “You know something. You always do. You’re my boss.”

“I always know something, that’s just part of my job.” Gojo said, half–smiling again. “Doesn’t mean I’m allowed to tell you.”

“I want to understand her.” The words came out before he could stop them. Quiet. Honest. Maybe even desperate. “I want to know. Please. You know how much this means to me.”

Gojo exhaled through his nose, slowly. Then: “She doesn’t remember.”

Megumi’s breath caught. “What?”

“Her memories of her past life… they’re gone. I know usually, you get it back once the office processes the paperwork, when you ask. But she…she doesn’t have it.” Gojo said, voice unusually gentle. “That’s the price of what she is. A Reaper that didn’t start off dead. She’s someone taken, not made. Someone chosen.”

“Chosen by who?”

Gojo looked at him. Really looked. “That’s the wrong question, kid.” he said. “The real one is—why her? Why did they all choose her?”

Megumi didn’t answer. 

He didn’t know how to.

Because how could he?

“She probably doesn’t even know why she keeps ending up next to you either. She may think it’s just because you’re her sector boss.” Gojo said. “Doesn’t know what her body’s reacting to. Doesn’t know why you make her so still. So quiet.”

Megumi clenched his jaw. His voice cracked before he could hide it. “Then how am I supposed to let her go?”

Gojo looked away, eyes hidden behind the gleam of glass and the slow, setting sun. “You’re not, I suppose.” he said. “You never were. We learn that the hard way.”

Gojo’s words hung in the air like smoke. You never were. It rang in Megumi’s ears long after the sun dipped beneath the edge of the world. Long after Gojo stood, patted him once on the shoulder, and walked away.

He didn’t follow him, he doesn’t know how to. Instead, he just sat there, with his jaw tight, his hands pressed against the concrete, staring at the empty horizon like it owed him something. Why her?

He didn’t know. He’d never known. But he felt it — in the marrow, in the breath, in the way you voice made his name sound like a memory.  You didn’t remember him. You didn’t remember anything. And still, you looked at him like she’d lost him before.

He hated it all, he just couldn’t help it. He hated how cruel it was. Because he wasn’t built for this kind of pain. The slow, relentless ache of watching someone you love exist beside you, and never with you. 

“Fucking hell.” Megumi whispered into the void, lowering his head onto his hands. “What do I do?”

COFFEE TASTED EVEN BITTER THAN BEFORE FOR THIS SHIFT. Two days later, you were back in the field with him. They didn’t even try to stagger the assignments anymore.

Maybe the office didn’t notice. Maybe it was intentional. Maybe the higher–ups in the main office had seen something in the threads of fate that neither of you had the clarity, or the courage to face.

The location was a run–down district just outside the city perimeter, a place with broken streetlights and water stains curling along the edges of old brick walls. It smelled like rust. Smoke. That strange metallic air before a storm.

It was another violent death. A girl this time. Sixteen. Gone too early, too fast. She’d died in the middle of a fight, unfortunately. The fists clenched, jaw locked, eyes wide with rage. And by the time the team got there… her soul was gone.

Not released. Not processed. Just gone. And that was dangerous. Because a soul left too long in that kind of pain alone, in that raw, fragmented fury, it didn’t stay soft.

It calcified. Morphed. Turned. And there will be no chance for rebirth. Only the certainty of misery, in purgatory or worse, disappears. And then, there will be nothing.

You crouched near the faded chalk outline, fingers pressed to the scorched concrete where the girl’s blood had pooled just days before. “The poor thing, really.”

“It’s a bad case.” Megumi mumbled under his breath.

“She didn’t even realize she died.” you murmured. “This kind… they don’t leave on their own. They get stuck. Trapped between the pulse and the silence.”

Fushiguro Megumi stood beside you, tense as he looked at the entirety.

He was watching the shadows like they could grow claws at any moment.

He was watching you too, when you weren’t looking.

“Her soul’s still in the district, by my estimates,” he said. “It hasn’t registered on any gates.”

“Then we’re running out of time, senpai.” you replied. “How long do we exactly have?”

He looks at his watch for a moment. “Before the sunrise. But that’s being too generous.”

You stood, brushing your coat back with a practiced flick, already walking toward the alley’s edge. “I can certainly do it in one hour.”

“That’s overconfidence in you, isn’t it?”

“Well, Reapers don’t get second chances, senpai.” you added, like you were reminding yourself more than him. “And lost souls don’t either.”

Fushiguro Megumi finds himself unable to say anything.

When he looked at your eyes again, there was no shine.

Perhaps that broke him more than the thought of a soul dying out.

Your hunt unfortunately started slow. But that was not your fault. Before and after dawn are the peak hours of souls, looking for the gates of the afterlife. That also means the influx of the Reapers all around the neighborhood is throwing you off. You couldn’t help but sigh. 

Perhaps the biggest hindrance spiritually is your boss, who couldn’t stop looking at you. His aura is overwhelming your senses. But you couldn’t say that to him.

You weren’t here to find yourself in the disciplinary ward, after all. Yet you were sure that even if you tried, you wouldn’t be able to say it to him. And you didn’t know why.

You moved through the backstreets with quiet precision. Two shadows in a city that had forgotten the names of the dead. You passed windows that hadn’t seen light in years. Fences curled with rust. Shoes on telephone wires, spinning like memories.

And then, there was a flicker. You could feel the heaviness of the cold air. It was static along your spine. You froze. So did Megumi. You couldn’t help but frown at the feeling. You hated moments like this. You knew that this wouldn’t be something good. 

“There, senpai.” you said under your breath. “Did you feel that?”

He nodded, eyes narrowing. “She’s close.”

You turned the corner into an abandoned courtyard. And there she was. The girl’s soul was standing dead center, arms wrapped around herself like a shield. Her skin was pale and cracking, edges fraying like her form was struggling to hold.

Her frigid eyes were wide and unblinking, locked somewhere between now and a moment she would never escape. A moment that would forever trap her, frozen in this misery.

“No, no—don’t come near me, please.” she hissed when you approached, voice warped by grief. “Don’t touch me!”

Her pain rolled off her in waves. It was thick, bitter, and raw. It made your chest ache. Your purse your lips in a flat line. “She’s starting to mutate.”

“No, she’s already halfway gone. She’s passed that.” Megumi said quietly beside you. “Another hour and she’s not coming back.”

“I can reach her, senpai. I think I can do something.” you murmured, stepping forward.

“Hey! You know you can’t. This is against protocol, she’s already progress to—”

“But I have got to try!” You tell him, determination in your eyes. “How else will we know if we don’t at least give it a shot?”

“Do you think I would risk my subordinate to harm? Are you that stupid?”

“Senpai—”

But something about her gaze caught you.

The way her eyes skipped past Megumi to rest only on you.

There was so much hatred in her eyes.

“I know you.” the soul whispered.

You stopped cold. “Huh?”

She took a step back. Then forward. Fingers twitching. “You don’t remember me.” she said, voice trembling. “But I know your face. I saw it before I died.”

Megumi’s voice was sharp, controlled. “She’s displacing. She’s too far gone, I told you! She’s confusing you with someone else!”

“No.” The soul looked between you both, eyes going glassy. “You’re the reason. You’re the one who saw me and didn’t stop it.”

The moment your hand stretched out, the air turned still. Not quiet at all, no. It was still. Like the world was holding its breath. Your coat stirred in the stagnant wind. The flickering edges of her soul glowed dimly, like embers under ash.

“Don’t move, [last name].” Megumi warned, voice low, blade still at the ready. “She’s past saving.”

You didn’t listen. You couldn’t. The way she looked at you. It wasn’t desperation anymore. It was recognition. Like some part of her soul saw you the way you really were.

Like whatever spark that lived in the heart of all things dying had seen your name written in its final seconds. You stepped closer. Your hand didn’t waver.

“I can help you.” you said, gently. “But you have to let me. I can’t reach you if you turn away now.”

But the black hollow in her chest pulsed. It was thick, violent, pulling outward like smoke curling from the inside of a burning house. She clutched her head, breathing fast. She started to scream over and over.

“I don’t want to forget—!” she screamed, staggering forward. “I was someone! I know I was someone!”

Her body jerked, the dark mass inside her twitching, warping. “I remember my mother’s voice! I remember the sound of the TV in the morning! I remember what it felt like when I thought someone might love me—”

Her hands curled into fists again.“—and now it’s all fading! It’s gone, it’s gone—”

And then, something cracked in her. It sounded like the first break in a dying tree, right before the whole thing crashes down. She lunged. Fast. Vicious. But not at you. At herself.

She reached into her own chest like she wanted to tear the rot out. Like if she could just find the memory, the warmth, the piece of herself she’d lost—she could make it stop.

And that was what did it. The darkness snapped free. Swallowed her whole. A burst of energy surged outward in a shockwave. You stumbled back, the weight of it slamming into your ribs like guilt made physical.

Megumi moved without hesitation, his arms braced in front of you, body between you and the explosion. “Move back!” he barked, but his voice was already too far.

The girl was no longer a girl. You knew that much, even with much denial. What stood before you was twisted. Bone-white limbs extended too far, mouth open in a scream that had no sound.

Her eyes were now massive voids, leaking black tears. Her sorrow had become a shape, deepening into something of a monstrosity. Her grief had become a weapon to wield against you. And still....still, you stood there, looking at her with pain in your heart. You took one shaky step forward.

“Please….” you whispered. “You don’t have to become this.”

But she was gone. Megumi knew it before you did. He shifted, blade raised. “This has to end, now.”

And your voice cracked as you reached for his wrist. “Wait—Senpai, don’t—”

His jaw clenched. But he didn’t move yet. “This is beyond the protocol, you know this! We have to–”

“Look at her, senpai!” you begged. “She’s scared. She’s just scared.”

“She’s not her anymore, [last name].” he snapped. “This thing? It’ll take you with it.”

“I know that!” you said. “But just—just give me one more second.”

Fushiguro Megumi’s grip faltered. Just barely. His blue–green eyes looking at you, trust blossoming in the corner of his eyes. You nodded at him, thankful. You turned back toward the girl and looked at the echo of her and stepped forward. 

The creature, at least what remained of her, was writhing now. Flickering between the memory of a girl and the monstrous thing her grief had carved from her. Her mouth opened again, distorted and shaking, but this time… this time she spoke.

"Please, please….." she rasped. The sound wasn’t from her throat. It was from her soul, raw and breaking. “I don’t want to stay like this. I don’t want to forget—but I don’t want to be like this either.”

You froze. That voice. That ache. It hit something deep in you. Deeper than instinct, deeper than memory. Something older. Something permanent. Your head started to hurt little by little. But you kept it together. You had to. 

“Then let me help you.” you said, stepping forward slowly.

Her body trembled, a broken silhouette against the rotting skyline. Her hands were shaking like she still didn’t know what they were for. Fists, weapons, or prayers. She reached for you with one, the other still clenched tight by her side.

“I don’t remember who I was, I….I don’t remember!” she whispered. “But I know I don’t want to hurt anyone. Not anymore. Please... just let me go.”

And something in you had clicked. That quiet place, deep down, where the echoes of the past lived. The place you didn’t have the key to. Suddenly, it didn’t matter if you remembered her, or if she remembered you. 

What mattered was that she was asking you. To free her. To end this. You took a breath, steadying your hand. Your reaper’s seal burned faintly across your palm. She didn’t flinch at the sight of it at all. She had all but accepted her fate.

The blink of morning dawn was starting to come little by little, the darkness of the night slowly swallowed up. This was not how you wanted it all to go. You didn’t want to lose another soul like this.

But this had to be done now. You had already broken protocol for this. You couldn’t bring yourself to make her suffer anymore than she already has. This is the only mercy she could get in the hands of heaven and hell.

“I’m sorry.” you said, voice low, trembling. “But I promise… this won’t be for nothing.”

You stepped close enough to touch her forehead with your fingers.

Her eyes fluttered shut. A single tear fell—black, then clear. “Thank you.” she whispered to you, her eyes shining with gratitude. “Thank you.”

And with that, light appeared as bright as the rising sun. It was ever so blinding and yet it was a silent light. A silent light that brings the deliverance of peace. You purse your lips as you watch it all. Her form dissolved like ash into sunrise, scattering upward. Gentle. Final. Not gone, but freed.

When the last of her vanished into the air, the wind returned. Soft. Barely there. You stood still, hand out, arm shaking. Fushiguro Megumi hadn’t said a word back as he sheathed his weapon back. He looks at you, concern casting down from the peripheral of his eye. 

When you turned back to him, he was staring at you like you’d split him in two. Like he was watching the exact moment your soul remembered how to ache. The morning sun finally hit the two of you. You took a breath. You opened your mouth for a moment, but nothing came out. 

“Are you alright?” Your subordinate asks you.

“I didn’t save her.” you said, quiet.

“You did. Don’t say that.” he answered. His voice was rough. “You just didn’t get to bring her to the gates. It’s okay.”

“But I…..”

“No, don’t think too much about it.” Megumi says as he gets closer to you. His figure towers over you. He looks at you with a softened gaze. “Please. You did what you could. You brought her peace. You saved her, okay?”

Your face contorted at his words. Suddenly, your brows were drawn, lips trembling, your shoulders pulled tight like your body didn’t know whether to collapse or run.

But the tears came anyway. They slid down your cheeks soundlessly, shameful and uncontrollable, like a crack in a dam that had held too long.

“I just—” Your voice faltered, hoarse. “I just wanted her to feel safe.”

Fushiguro Megumi stepped in without hesitation. Not with words. Not with orders. Just warmth. Just him. He reached out, careful and steady, and his hand came to rest against the back of your neck. 

It was gentle. Too gentle, like he was holding something precious to him. Yet it was the very thing that was grounding you. His other arm wrapped around you like a shield. A quiet one. Something steady enough to hold grief without needing to fix it.

“You gave her that, okay?” he murmured. His voice was low now, close to your ear, the kind of softness he didn’t show anyone else. “She left remembering that someone heard her. That someone stayed.”

Your fists curled into his coat. Your forehead dropped to his chest. He didn’t move an inch. He didn’t even pull back. Instead, he stayed there with you. He let his warmth envelope you when you needed it. He just held you there, close and certain as the sun kissed your skin even more.

“She was just a kid, senpai.” you whispered, your breath hitching.

“I know.”

“She was alone. I was alone. If you hadn’t been here—”

“I am here.” he said, more firm this time. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Your breath shook again, and then again, until it steadied. Just enough. 

Megumi’s hand brushed the back of your head slowly, his touch almost reverent. “You don’t have to carry it all, [last name].” he added. “Not alone.”

You stayed like that for a long time. Long enough for the blood on the pavement to dry. Long enough for the light to shift between buildings.

Long enough for the ache to settle instead of sharpen. Eventually, you pulled back just slightly, just enough to see his face. His jaw was tight. His eyes hadn’t left you for even a second.

“Do I really seem that broken to you?” you asked, your voice tired, raw.

“No, not at all.” he said. “You just seem like someone who’s still looking for the parts they lost.”

And something about the way he said that. It was quiet. Almost all too knowing. That had made your heart twist. Because he was looking too. You could see it. And he’d been looking longer than you knew.

For a moment, you felt the weariness of it all come to you. You were just standing there in the alley, your shoulders slack, your eyes red and all the sudden a little too distant for someone who just found their job done well.

The morning light caught on your uniform, smearing silver against the black. And for the first time since arriving, you didn’t look like the head of the Special Cases department. You just looked…tired. Almost so small. All too far away.

Megumi said nothing. Just stood there, quiet across from you, waiting like he always did. Because he knew better than to fill that kind of silence. The kind where memories try to surface but never make it to shore.

You take out a cigarette from your coat and bring a cigarette to your lips. Lit it with a snap of your fingers. Inhaled. Exhaled. The smoke curled around your face like something trying to stay. Then, finally, you turned to him. 

Your eyes were strange. Not confused. Not pained. Just old. Like something from another lifetime had turned over in your chest and was watching him from behind your lashes. For a moment, it didn’t even look like you were having a bad migraine.

“Do you believe in déjà vu?” you asked, voice low, almost idle.

He blinked, startled. “…What?”

You glanced up at the sky. Smoke slid from between your teeth. “It’s just a thought, from observation.”

“.....What brought this on?”

“Sometimes….I can’t help thinking about it.” you said slowly to him. “When you look at me, senpai…”

The word felt foreign in your mouth — formal, yet intimate. “…I feel like I’ve already grieved you, or maybe you’ve grieved me. I don’t know which. But….it’s just like that.” you said. “And I don’t know why.”

Megumi’s breath stilled. His throat closed around the sound of your voice. And his heart, it was a traitorous little thing. And it surged once again in a violent way against his ribs.

Because that was you. Not the reaper. Not the officer. You. That was a sliver of something that remembered him, even if you didn’t know it. The first time you’d said anything like that.

The first time your body remembered what your mind had let go. He stepped forward. It was slow, like something might shatter if he moved too quickly. His boots scraped against gravel. You didn’t flinch. Your reddened eyes never left his blue–green gaze.

Fushiguro Megumi said your name. Just once. Your actual name. And it made you feel something. Something you weren’t supposed to feel. Your breath takes a hitch. The way he said it, you knew that it cracked at the edges.

And for a second, just a second, you looked like someone who knew what it meant. Like someone who’d said his name before, in a world that had long since died. The silence stretched between the two of you.

None of you break the silence. Instead, it just deepened.It was now too dense and too impossible to ignore. The kind of silence that remembers.Megumi’s breath held still, lodged somewhere behind his ribs, as though letting it go would undo whatever fragile thread was pulling you toward him.

Then he said it again. Your name. Not your title. Not your designation. Your name. Your actual name. He had spoken it in a low, careful, way. Perhaps more than the first. It was like it meant something dangerous. Something forbidden.

And the way it echoed in your chest. It was almost… familiar. And it just made your head hurt even more. Your breath caught. A tremor ran through you, subtle but sharp, and your eyes. Those tired, shadowed eyes had locked onto his own, like they’d done this before. Like they’d found him before.

Something changed in your expression, you were sure. Even if you couldn’t see it, you knew something had changed. Not recognition. Not quite. But something old. Something that haunted the space between memory and instinct.

“…Why did that sound like a goodbye?” you asked, voice rough, uncertain.

Megumi swallowed, jaw flexing. His gaze never left yours. “Because it might be. Our work is always full of goodbyes, after all.” he said.

You blinked. That was the moment. The flicker. A beat of stillness that didn’t belong to this life. A feeling that didn’t have a name. And you felt it. Deep down. Like a ripple in still water. The ache of having known someone, and the agony of not remembering how.

“Who are you to me?” you asked, softly. You weren’t sure you even meant to speak. The words came from somewhere else.

Megumi didn’t answer. Not with words. He stepped forward, slow and sure, and the scrape of gravel beneath his boots sounded louder than it should’ve.

The air felt heavier now, charged with things he cannot put together. His presence filled the alley like a shadow cast from something much older than the buildings around you.

“You don’t have to say anything.” you whispered. “But something in me… it reacts to you.”

Your hands trembled slightly as you looked at him, your fingers flexing like they were supposed to be holding something they’d already lost. Something they had been waiting to find. Megumi’s voice, when it finally came, was quiet.

“I think you were someone I couldn’t save.”

That silence returned once more. It was ever so dense, knowing. Not a void. A presence. You looked at him then. Really looked. And your heart gave a low, uncertain beat like it recognized the shape of him. Not the face, not the name. The weight of him. And then, quietly, your lips parted.

“…Why does it feel like I’ve cried for you before?” You whispered back to him. “I didn’t just mourn or feel sad. But I cried. Bitterly.”

Megumi’s expression didn’t change. But his hand twitched at his side. Your name sat between you like a secret that refused to die. And neither of you moved. Because something ancient had just stirred awake. And neither of you knew what would happen if it opened its eyes.

“Maybe.” He whispers to you. “Just maybe.”

The cigarette burned slowly between your fingers, the smoke catching faint dying gold from a nearby streetlight. You were still watching him, gaze heavy. It was not in weight, but in the way it pressed into him, like you were trying to figure out something that wouldn’t come.

Something that hovered just behind your ribs, just beyond your reach. And then, all at once, you looked away. Your head hurts even more than before. You let the cigarette meet your lips once again. 

You cursed, soft under your breath. “Fuck.” you muttered. “Forget it. I don’t remember.”

Megumi flinched like you’d slapped him. The shift was instant. Your voice closed off, a door slammed shut in the space between you. Your shoulders tensed as if embarrassed to have said anything at all.

You turned slightly, dragging one last inhale from the cigarette like it might anchor you back into this life. The one you knew, the one where he was your commanding officer and not something deeper, older, buried beneath centuries of silence.

“I didn’t mean to make it weird, senpai.” you added. A shrug. Casual. Too casual. “I’ve been overworked lately. It’s probably just… nerves.”

But Megumi couldn’t breathe. Because he remembered.He remembered every second of that moment when you looked at him like you knew him.

Not the version of him standing in front of you now, but the boy he used to be. The one who held your hand in another lifetime, who once promised you peace.

And now you were brushing it off like smoke in the wind. He opened his mouth to say something to you, at least anything that would make it better. But his voice caught in his throat. So he just stood there, hurting quietly like he always did.

“…It’s okay.” he said finally. Low. Tired. “It happens.”

You gave him a look, unreadable again. A flicker of something he couldn’t name. And then you nodded. As if that was the end of it. As if there shouldn’t be anything more to be said. As if it never happened.

You dropped the cigarette. Stepped it out with your boot. “We should head back. The office will want a full report.”

“Yeah.” 

He watched you walk ahead, back straight, hands tucked into your coat pockets like it was just another night, just another mission. But Fushiguro Megumi’s chest still ached with everything you didn’t say. 

Everything you almost remembered.

YOU ONLY FOUND OUT TODAY THAT SOMETHING WAS WRONG. You got in and you looked at the office. It was too quiet. Usually, people were bustling and hustling, putting in reports in and out of the sector head’s office. You were confused, very confused. Until you checked your emails. The report was never filed. At least not by him.

You noticed that his office was cold, his coat still hung on the hook by the door. There was no answer. No note. No explanation. Just silence. Nothing from his secretary. Nothing from his other subordinates. 

The first thing you did was check dispatch. The second was the morgue. By the third hour, you were in a rage. Something inside you wouldn’t calm down, wouldn’t sit still.

Not until you stormed the massive head of operations wing and grabbed Gojo Satoru by the collar in front of six stunned Reapers reporting to him and hissed.

“Where the hell is he?”

Gojo Satoru, for once, didn’t smile. He didn’t joke at all. He didn’t even pretend. He just looked at you, something strange and guilty swimming in the corners of his bright blue eyes. That had made you even angrier.

“I asked you a question!”

“I’m your boss, don’t you know that?”

“I don’t really give a fuck about proprieties right now.” You reiterated, brows narrowing deeper. “Now answer my question.”

“He’s in the Hall.”

The words didn’t register. “What? Which hall? There’s many halls in this place!”

“The Hall of Discipline.”

Your stomach dropped. “What? Why?”

Gojo sighed. Quiet. Tired. “For the obvious.”

“What, this is not making sense—”

“He falsified the report, [last name].” he said, more clearly this time. “Said the soul’s corruption was his mistake. Claimed he delayed the purge protocol. Said it was all on him. The office found a dozen violations in his write-up and he didn’t fight it. Took the blame.”

You couldn’t breathe. “That’s….”

“He’s your superior, as much as I am.” Gojo added, softer now. “When things go wrong, the system comes for the one in charge.”

“But I was—I stepped in, I—”

“I know that, kid.” The blue eyed man said. “We all know. But Megumi made it so no one else could touch you. He rerouted everything.”

Your hands were shaking. “He shouldn’t have….This is stupid!”

“It is. But he still did.” Gojo Satoru put a hand on your shoulder. His voice dropped. “He did it for you.”

You moved almost instantly. Your legs moved like a blade through the halls. You did not care for anything else. You had to get there fast. You didn’t care if you were going to get in. You’ll force your way in. You didn’t carry any clearance, nor were there orders for you to be there. But that also didn’t matter.

All you had to do was walk in. The guards didn’t dare stop you. They felt it in the air around you. The storm. The promise. They saw your eyes, your fists clenched into fists. It was all too much, that energy flowing from your body.

Down below, the stones whispered. Every step rang against old bones. The torches bent away from your passing. You stopped there soon enough, at the seventh row. You knew that cell. The worst one. Your throat felt dry.

You opened the door almost immediately. And you saw him, you saw everything. He was there. Fushiguro Megumi. Chained. Bruised. Slumped in shadow.

One eye was swollen. One hand red with dried blood. He didn’t lift his head at first. Not until you said something. Not until you called his name like it still meant something.

Then slowly, his gaze suddenly found you. His breath caught. “…….You came.” he murmured. A rasp, not quite real. “......Why?”

“I should be asking this question.” Your throat burned. “Why did you do it?”

He blinked once at your words. Then again.

As if the answer had teeth. As if it lived behind his ribs.

And then he hitches a breath, trying to speak despite the pain.

 “You weren’t supposed to be here.” he said softly. “Not in this life. Not like this.”

You stared at him. “…What does that mean?”

But he didn’t answer. Only looked at you like you were a secret he’d buried centuries ago and couldn’t stop digging up. And for a moment, for just a breath, your skin remembered him. Not your mind. Not your soul. Just the body.

The instinct. The shape of something familiar in the dark. A voice you’d followed into fire before. You didn’t know why your hands moved.

Why you reached him with everything in you. Why he let you. But you touched him. Gently. His jaw. His cheek. The side of his throat where something still beat, still fought.

“You should’ve let me take the fall.” 

Your voice was low, splintering at the edges. A whisper only the walls and the dust could hear. Your hand cupped his cheek tenderly, carefully as you could, your soft palm against the warmth of bruised skin. 

“It was my fault.”

“I couldn’t. ” Megumi breathed. Not because it hurt. Not because he was bleeding. But because you’d said it. That. The one thing he’d wanted to protect you from.

“You could have—”

“You know that I wouldn’t.” he added. A little more fragile now. Like he was trying not to fall through the space between you. “This is the only choice.”

Your grip trembled. Not because of fear, that was for sure. But because somewhere in your body, in your bones, you did know. You didn’t remember, not truly. Not all of it. Not clearly. But it seems your body did. 

You could feel the ache. There was an instinct. The way your fingers ghosted over the edge of his jaw like they'd memorized the path long ago. The way your eyes were clouded with concern. That was real. That was yours. That was surely warm. Only for him.

“I didn’t want this, senpai.” you whispered. “I didn’t want you like this.”

His lashes lowered. Eyes half–lidded, jaw tight. “I know.”

Silence pressed in from all sides. The stone, the iron, the weight of what couldn’t be said. What wasn’t supposed to be remembered. But it lingered anyway.

Between you. Like a curse. Like a vow. You leaned in, forehead resting against his skin. The light flickered overhead. Shadows crawled across the cell floor like old ghosts.

“I keep feeling it.” you murmured, almost to yourself. “That something's missing. Like I'm half–awake. And when I see you... it’s like I almost know what I���m supposed to say. Like I’ve said it before.”

Megumi didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just watched you. 

Like you were sunlight bleeding through a locked door. 

Then, he speaks to you with laboured breaths.

“I used to dream of you.” he said. Soft. Low. Carved in smoke. 

“Before you ever put on the uniform. Before the office took your name. There’s too much to say….Too much to speak on.” 

“Senpai, don’t speak too much—”

But Megumi didn’t stop. He felt feverish, lost in the pain. He was losing his mind. “You’d show up in places you shouldn’t have been since that first life. Under sakura trees. In the middle of winter. At the edge of a battlefield.”

You blinked at his words.

Your heart clenched.

Your lips pursed into a line.

“You always smiled. Always left first.”

Something twisted inside your chest. A flicker of grief you couldn’t place. “Senpai….”

“I think I was supposed to follow you. Everywhere…..” Megumi whispered. “I just… never got there in time.”

You didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Your fingers curled tighter against his skin. And deep in the marrow of your soul, something remembered. Something screamed. But the name wouldn’t come. Nothing would come to you. Even if you wished there was.

His blue–green eyes fluttered, glassy and dark, lashes trembling like he was fighting sleep—or memory. And then, like something pulled from the bottom of a well, his voice returned. Distant. Drenched in fever.

“She always leaves first…” he mumbled, barely audible. “Still wears the ribbon… said it meant ‘home’…”

You froze. The words hit you like a blade behind the ribs. Because you’d heard them before. Your head started to hurt once again. You bit your lip, trying to not let the pain win. You turned to look at Megumi, but the words continued to echo in your head. 

It was too familiar. It was like you remembered it. Yet it was not here. Not in this life. Somewhere else. A dream, maybe. A voice calling across some great divide. The ribbon was real, but you couldn’t explain how. Couldn’t remember ever being given one. And yet, suddenly your hand was moving.

You reached beneath the folds of his tattered coat, down the neckline of his uniform, like something was guiding you and there, tucked against his collarbone, warm with his fevered skin. 

A ribbon. Frayed at the edges. Crimson. Your breath caught in your throat. So you don’t forget me. The words weren’t yours. Not yet. But they echoed in the hollow of your ribs like they belonged. 

And you knew. You knew he’d been holding on to it across lifetimes. A part of you broke, almost instantly. But a deeper part of you awakened. It was like a ghost coming to you, haunting you with something you couldn’t even remember, mockingly.

“Come back to me.” you whispered, voice trembling. Copying the words in your head. The pain is becoming more and more prevalent. “Wherever you are… whatever this is… come back.”

His body stilled in your arms. His head lolled gently, eyes barely open. “…don’t let them take you again…”

It wasn’t a plea. It was a warning. The shadows around you shifted. The air thinned. Something old was listening.  The Hall of Discipline groaned faintly above you, its stone bones creaking under memory and magic. 

The red ribbon pulsed against your fingers. It was soft, steady. Like a heartbeat. Like a tether. It felt so familiar. And you hated it. Because you couldn’t understand it. You purse your lips, the thundering hurt hammering in your head.

Fushiguro Megumi had slept into feverish slumber. 

Soon enough, you knew you were also going to.

You pull out your phone and call Gojo Satoru.

“Bring medics down here.” You whispered to him. “Now.”

You hung up and leaned against Megumi, holding the ribbon.

THAT BITTER NIGHT, YOUR SLEEP CAME IN MANY FRAGMENTS. It all came in so many fractures you could not understand. And when it did, when your body finally gave in to exhaustion, you dreamed. But not like before.

This one was... different. You were standing in a garden. Quiet. Cracked stone beneath your feet, dust curling around the hem of robes that felt too heavy, too ancient to belong to the present. Trees loomed tall overhead, but they were wilted. Hollow. Like something had long since abandoned them.

There was a shrine. Or maybe a ruin.

Something half–buried and forgotten.

And he was there. Megumi. But not quite.

He didn’t wear black. He didn’t look like the version you knew. His hair was longer, tied back. His eyes were the same. But older somehow. More haunted. He was standing at the edge of a small pond, hand resting on a stone marker.

And when he turned to you, your heart lurched so violently in your chest it almost woke you. “You always find me here, you know.” he said.

You blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“No, I don’t suppose so.” he murmured. “You never do. Not the first time. Not even this time.”

You stepped forward, compelled by something you couldn’t name. You looked down at the stone marker. It was worn smooth. The name had faded from it. All except one character. Yours. And then, a hand gripped your wrist. Familiar. Steady. Warm.

But when you looked up, he wasn’t standing beside the stone anymore. He was behind you eyes narrowed like he was afraid of what, you couldn’t tell. You were confused. This was not reality. You were sure of that. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t true.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet, not just yet,” he whispered. “Not this time.”

“Why not?” you asked, your voice trembling.

He didn’t answer.

The dream shattered like glass.

You felt like you were falling.

The weight of the world blinked away as you landed. And when your eyes opened again, you were in a hospital room. The light was pale. Blurred at the edges. Machines hummed like lullabies gone wrong. Outside the window, snow fell against the glass in slow motion. It was too slow, like time had stopped to watch.

You looked down. You were in the bed. IVs in your arms. Tubes at your side. Everything white and wrong. The door creaked open. And there he was. Megumi. But younger, still tired. His hair damp from the rain. His Reaper uniform still clung to him. Another version of him from another time. 

You were once more confused as he looked at you, so tenderly, so warmly, so devotedly. He stepped inside quietly, as if any noise would wake something that wasn’t supposed to rise. His eyes met yours, and the pain in them was older than anything the world had a name for.

“You’re not supposed to be here yet.” he whispered.

Your throat felt tight. You tried to sit up, but couldn’t. The ache in your chest told you something was ending. “Why not?” you asked, voice trembling. “Why can’t I stay?”

He didn’t answer right away. He came to your side, and sat in the chair like he’d done it a thousand times. Reached for your hand like it had always been his to hold. His thumb brushed over your knuckles.

"You weren’t meant to see this. You weren’t supposed to see the end, your end." he said, finally. Voice low. Fragile. “But you did. And it broke something.”

“What did it break?”

Another pause. Then, his voice broke too: “Me.”

The lights above flickered. You looked down and saw the ribbon again, tied loosely around your wrist. “I’m sorry.” you whispered, not knowing why.

He leaned in, pressing his forehead to your temple. “You always say that.” he murmured.

And then suddenly, that sound again.

You can hear the shattering glass.

That horrific, sharp sound.

The world split open, the hospital room disintegrating into fragments. White light, falling snow, the beeping machines all swallowed by black. You fell through it like water. And then you woke up. Sweating. Shaking.

The real Fushiguro Megumi still lay unconscious in the cot beside you, fever cooling slowly under your watch. The red ribbon was still in your hand. But now, you remembered the feeling of  snow. You remembered the feeling of dying. And you remembered him, at your side.

Every time.

Every lifetime.

Every chance.

And you still didn’t know why.

You sat up, feeling the sweat cold at the back of your neck, breath caught in your throat. And across the room, far from you and Megumi, you could feel the faint, flickering, like a phantom.

For a moment, you thought you saw a shadow move. It looked like someone standing just at the edge of your perception. Watching with such precision. Such intent. Such desire.

Gone when you blinked. But you felt it. The same ache from the alley. The same weight in your chest. The same name, unspoken but circling your ribs like a storm waiting to break. You didn’t sleep again that night. Instead, you watched Fushiguro Megumi breathe.

YOU WERE EXHAUSTED WHEN YOU CAME INTO THE OFFICE. But that was because you were still feeling sick.That’s what they told you, anyway. That’s why you were still officially on medical leave. That’s why you weren’t supposed to be on–site today.

It’s why they hadn’t even processed your last mission report yet, which you were sure said something about "emotional trauma recovery" whatever that meant in a place like this.

But you didn’t care about that at all. You woke up before the sun that morning, throat raw from another dream you couldn’t quite shake, your fingers still curled around the edge of Megumi’s spare coat, left behind on the couch.

So you came in. You took the high elevator to the top deck, to what used to be an observatory before the league converted it. Now it was all reinforced glass and glowing panels, quiet enough to think and empty enough to breathe. 

You stood there, staring out over the city that doesn’t even know you exist. The wide world is still asleep below you, blanketed in blue and grey. For a moment there, you thought you were alone. Until the reflection shifted.

Division Head Gojo Satoru’s tall frame emerged behind you in the glass, arms folded casually, his usual blindfold replaced by tinted lenses. He looked half like a ghost, and half like someone who never really slept.

You didn’t hide your surprise. “You’re up early, senpai.”

“Old habit, I suppose.” he said, stepping closer. “I used to crash here when the paperwork got unbearable. Not much has changed.”

You looked at him. “You still do?”

He didn’t answer directly. Just gave a small smile and joined you at the glass, the mundane city lights painting dying soft gold across his jaw. He studied your face for a moment. He hummed soon after.

“You shouldn’t be here, no?” he said eventually, voice gentler than expected.

You scoffed. “Says the guy who’s technically been dead a million times.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face. “Touché.”

A long silence passed between you at that moment.

The kind that felt full, not at all like a blank canvas. 

The kind only people who’ve shared enough pain can understand.

“Did you see him?” you asked suddenly, without looking.

Gojo’s smile faded. He exhaled through his nose.

“He’s still recovering, in his apartment.” he said. “Stubborn as ever.”

You nodded. Your reflection looked pale, eyes a little too hollow. “He shouldn’t have done that.”

“He didn’t see another way. Especially as your boss.”

“I would’ve taken the punishment.”

“He knew that.” Gojo turned to face you now. “But the system doesn’t work that way. And you—”

He paused. Something unreadable flickered in his gaze. “You’ve always been meant for something else, aren’t you?”

You turned toward him, brows drawing. “What does that mean?”

Gojo tilted his head, a grin returning but it didn’t reach his eyes. “I’m not the one who gets to answer that. Sorry”

A pulse of unease tightened in your chest. Like something was circling you in your own skin. Like something remembered.

“Gojo–senpai—” you started, stepping forward without thinking. But he was already moving, already backing away, like he’d said too much or just enough.

“Get some rest, kid.” he said, his voice lighter now, but not soft. “And don’t do anything stupid. Or at least… not without backup.”

The doors behind him hissed open. He turned.

But then he stopped. Just for a second.

His head angled over his shoulder, voice low now. Real low.

“You saw something, didn’t you?” The words slipped through the quiet like a needle. 

Your mouth opened. Closed. “What?”

“In your dreams, when you were knocked out.”

“I don’t know….” you said. “It felt like… like a memory. But not mine.”

Gojo’s voice dropped, serious in a way he rarely allowed. “Some memories don’t belong to just one person.”

You glanced at him. “So whose was it?”

He looked at you carefully. His tone was impossibly gentle. “Yours.” he said. “And his.”

Gojo Satoru turned back toward you fully, no grin this time, no swagger. Just those pale lenses catching the dull ceiling light. His face was unreadable for a moment as he ended up deep in his thoughts.

“In your dreams, sometimes…..” he said. “You remember things. Not clearly. Not yet. But something’s waking up.”

You stared at him.

Your stomach turned.

Your lips pursed deep.

“Megumi…” you whispered. “Was it because of me?”

Gojo didn't respond. Didn’t need to. The silence cracked between you like ice underfoot. And then he walked away, hands in his coat pockets, disappearing into the flickering lights of the hallway. You turned back to the glass. The city hadn’t changed. The light was still dull, the sky still gray.

But your reflection was different now. Because in your own eyes, something else looked back. And this time, it blinked with you. Like something had decided. Like something in you had finally opened its eyes.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” He says, smiling at you. “Go on. Back home.”

You were going to argue but you gave in and nodded.

He turns around and walks away, his face drops.

He takes his phone from his pocket and the phone rings.

“She’s going to remember soon.”

YOU DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS, BUT YOU ENDED UP HERE ANYWAY. Far above, tucked away in the forbidden archives of the League of Reapers, a forgotten case file blinked awake, its lock peeling open, quietly, like something old had just been permitted to stir.

The records room wasn’t supposed to be open after hours. Especially not the forbidden wing. You weren’t sure how you got past the first two sigil locks. You didn’t stop to question it. Your hands just moved, like they knew what they were reaching for.

Down long aisles of dust and dead magic, your footsteps were the only sound. The further in you walked, the more the air changed. It was heavy, old, metallic. Like the stillness right before a storm. You passed the shelves that should’ve had your file. Yours and Megumi’s.

But there was nothing. Just blank ledgers. Burnt corners. Redacted names. Your existence. It was odd. It was fully cleaned off the paper like a sin no one wanted to confess. You stood there in front of the empty space where the file should be, hands trembling.

“…Why?” you whispered. “Why can’t I find anything?”

The lights overhead flickered.

And then, without warning, you stopped.

You felt that endless burst of energy.

“Because you were never meant to.”

The voice came from behind you. Calm. Controlled.

Beautiful in a way that makes your skin crawl.

You turned, slowly to see that face you had longed to see.

Geto Suguru. The Keeper of the Forgotten. The guardian of records sealed by the gods of this realm. He stood with his hands behind his back, black robes pooling like ink around his boots. His purple eyes gleamed golden in the dark.

“You shouldn’t be here, reaper.” he said, voice smooth like a blade sliding into silk. “These files are sealed for a reason.”

“I had a dream, keeper.” you said. “I saw a version of myself. I—remembered something. And I…..I don’t know. I need to—”

“That wasn’t a memory.” Geto cuts you off. “That was residue. Massive chunks, it would seem. It's a massive leftover of emotion trying to piece itself into something. It’s dangerous to mistake echoes for truth.”

Your voice sharpened. “Then what’s the truth?”

Geto tilted his head, dark hair falling over one eye. “It’s not your place to ask.”

Something inside you flared. “It’s about me. How is it not my place?”

He took a step forward to you, his beautifully decorated robes flowing as he did. You backed up instinctively and suddenly hit the shelf behind you. His presence closed in like mist under a door. After all, he was not one to challenge.

“You died, reaper.” he said softly. “And you weren’t chosen to come back. But something refused to let go. Something broke the cycle. Your soul was taken, not guided. That makes you… an anomaly.”

You swallowed. “So someone stole me?”

Geto Suguru didn’t answer.

But his silence was confirmation enough.

That had made your chest constrict.

“I deserve to know what I have forgotten.” you said, a low shake in your voice. “Please.”

Geto’s purple haze darkened. It was not unkind, but far too knowing. “Reaper, it is not your place to ask.”

“Keeper—”

“You had made your choice a hundred years ago. The choice is final. You have chosen this life.” he said. “You believed you deserve peace. And we have given it to you.”

He raised a hand. You felt the air around you thicken, magic curling tight around your lungs, around your mind. The archives blurred from you all of the sudden. Your eyes widened as you looked at him.

“No—wait—” you started.

“Go back to your sector, reaper.” Geto said gently, stepping back into the dark. “Before the parts of you that are still whole begin to remember why they were broken in the first place.”

And with that, darkness.

WEEKS LATER, IT WAS HARD TO DEAL WITH THE SILENCE. Fushiguro Megumi wanted to look for you. But it was like you vanished into thin air. It was stupid, how he went into a frenzy when he came looking for you.

Yet that was all he could know. He couldn’t stand it, going into silence. He hated that more when you appeared in his nightmares. It was raining when Megumi found you again.

He didn’t find you until it was already late. It was way too cold, even for a reaper. Outside headquarters, where reapers weren’t supposed to linger this long in the mortal veil.

You stood beneath the overhang of a closed shop, arms folded over your chest, face lifted slightly to the sky like you didn’t know where else to be. Like you didn’t know how long you'd been standing there.

He almost didn’t call out to you. Almost let you stay like that—just standing there at the edge of the platform, watching the clouds roll over the city like ash. The back of you looked like someone else. Like someone older. Like someone trying to remember what it felt like to be whole.

But your aura....it wasn’t sitting right. Fushiguro Megumi knew the shape of you in every room. Could pick you out from a mile away, even in crowds, even in battle. But this? This wasn’t your usual rhythm. 

Your energy was jittery, off–beat. Like someone had burned out the center of you and filled it with static. The aftershock of a dream you couldn’t shake. Something was rattling inside of you and he felt it in his bones.

“…You okay?” Megumi’s voice was low. Careful.

You flinched. And that did something to him. Made his gut twist. Made his jaw tighten. You never flinched around him before. Not like that. He stepped forward, slowly, like he might spook you if he didn’t. His coat rustled against the silence.

“Shouldn’t you still be resting? You’re still injured.”

You didn’t look at him when you said it, just let the words slide out with the smoke that curled from your cigarette. It was slow, unbothered.

Like maybe you weren’t worried sick about him for the past two nights. Like maybe you hadn’t checked his office three times today already. Like maybe your heart wasn’t still racing from that dream.

But Fushiguro Megumi saw the tension in your fingers, how they trembled just a little when you flicked the ash. He saw how you stood slightly off–balance, weight shifting like you didn’t want to be caught hoping.

“I wanted to see you.” he said simply, honestly. The words came quiet, unfiltered. “You disappeared for the whole day. Gojo told me.”

You exhaled, sharp through your nose. “Why is he snitching on me?” you muttered, flicking your cigarette to the side, watching the embers die as they scattered. “Old man’s bored, isn’t he?”

Megumi shrugged one shoulder. “Probably. He said you looked ‘haunted’ and then told me to handle it before he had to get emotionally involved.”

You snorted softly. “That sounds like him.”

A beat of silence passed between you. Then another. The wind picked up and pushed at the hem of your coat. You rubbed your arms. It was feeling more from nerves than cold, you were sure. But you hated that. You would have rather it was the cold. 

Finally turned to look at him. His hair was still damp. His knuckles were bandaged. His blue–green eyes were dark under the weight of whatever hell he’d just been through. But he was here. He came.

“…You shouldn’t be up and about just yet.” you said again, quieter now. “You’re still recovering. You look like shit.”

Megumi’s gaze flickered to yours, sharp but soft, like a blade dulled at the edge for your sake alone. “And you look like you haven’t slept in three days.”

You didn’t respond.

He stepped closer.

You didn’t look up.

“You weren’t there after the mission for today.” he said to you. “And I kept thinking….if you were alright. If you were doing well. You were having bad headaches too.”

Your chest tightened. “How did you—”

“It was obvious.”

Because it was. And you did realize it, how obvious it was. That you were in pain. Yet you didn’t know what to tell him what it was all about. You didn’t know what to tell him. When it was all horrible things. 

But you didn’t know how to tell him that every time you closed your eyes, you heard him whisper your name in a hospital room that didn’t exist. That some part of you knew that voice before your brain ever caught up. That it made your heart twist in ways that didn’t make sense.

“You came all this way just to check on me?” you asked, forcing a wry smile.

Megumi didn’t blink. “I’d cross the veil if I had to.”

Just like that, your cigarette burned out between your fingers. Your eyes met his and lingered. “I think I lost something.” you said.

His heart kicked. “What do you mean?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. “I went to the archives.”

Megumi stiffened. “What?”

“I had to.” Your voice was soft. “I needed to know why I keep dreaming things that feel like memories. Why I remember voices that don’t belong to me. Why you… why I keep—”

You stopped yourself. Jaw locking. 

Megumi’s gaze never wavered. “What happened?”

You looked away. “They weren’t there.” you whispered. “Our files. Everything I was looking for—it’s gone. Or hidden. Or… I don’t know.”

Silence. “And then…” Your voice faltered. “He was there.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed. “Who?”

You hesitated. “Geto Suguru. The Keeper.”

Megumi swore under his breath. Stepped toward you. “What did he say?”

“That it’s not my place to know.” you said, bitter. “That I was taken. That my soul wasn’t meant to be here. That someone pulled me from the cycle and forced me into this life.”

Megumi’s breath stopped when you mentioned those words. You didn’t see the way his hands curled into fists. Didn’t see the fear creeping up his throat. You didn’t know how much anguish this was putting him through.

“I tried to remember after that.” you continued. “But something’s wrong. Like there’s a hole in my head. I can feel it. I was so close, and now it’s just…”

You looked at him again, more desperate now. “Why does it feel like you’re the only thing I remember?” you asked. “Like my soul keeps walking toward you, even when I don’t want it to.”

Megumi couldn’t speak. Didn’t trust himself too. Because he knew that feeling. Knew what it was to ache for someone you weren’t supposed to keep finding. Know the exact weight of your gaze. The way his name used to sound from your lips.

He took one slow step closer.Then another. He didn’t touch you. But he stood close enough for you to feel the heat of him beneath the rain. His bright blue–green eyes locked to yours, solemn, endless.

“I’ll find out what they’re hiding,” he said. “I swear it.”

“…Why?” you whispered.

Megumi's voice was quiet, but it hit like thunder: “Because your soul isn’t the only one that remembers.”

You looked at him confused and uncertain.

The scent of the cigarette left your lips.

You nodded at him, letting everything slip by.

Later, the tension in the air thickened, like a storm pressing down on the heavy silence between them. Fushiguro Megumi’s resolve, forged from year after year of restraint and quiet determination.

Now felt like a chain binding him to the past and the future that Geto Suguru had hinted at. A future where the woman he loved was something more than human.  More than what he could protect.

Geto Suguru, the Keeper, stepped back, the hint of amusement in his voice masked by something far older, more knowing. "You think you’re the one holding the key, don’t you, reaper." he said, almost as though to himself. "But the door was never locked to begin with. You’re just too stubborn to see it."

Fushiguro Megumi’s gaze never wavered. He knew the risks of going here. He knew the stories buried beneath the names in those forbidden files. But none of it had ever mattered more than you. You were more important than anyone to him in this world.

“I’m not afraid of what’s in that file, you know that. I remember everything, even if you blank it out.” Megumi said, his voice hardening. “You may think I’m blind to the danger, but I’m not. I’ll tear down every wall you put up between us.”

Geto’s smile returned, just a little—cold and calculated. “You can try. But the truth always catches up.”

Megumi didn’t flinch. His mind was set, his path clear. The years of unanswered questions, the weight of a thousand lost memories, had led him here. To this moment. To this man who seemed to hold all the pieces of a puzzle Megumi could never finish on his own.

“You’re wrong about one thing, keeper.” Megumi added, his voice softer now, but no less firm. “I’m not the only one who remembers.”

Geto’s eyes flickered, just for a moment. Then, with a shift of his body, he turned, as if dismissing the conversation entirely. "We'll see."

Fushiguro Megumi stood there, unmoving. It wasn’t over. It wasn’t nearly over. Not as long as she still came back to him. Not as long as the past, and the memories they shared, remained anchored to their souls.

The door behind him closed with a finality that echoed. But the bond was already there, and nothing Geto Suguru said or did could sever it. And Megumi would make sure of that.

[ahgasegotarmy116]

Just Take It | Jeon Jungkook | Part Nine

Summary: You make the tough call to have that conversation you've been putting off with a certain someone. Pairing: Inexperienced f!reader x Best Friend's Dad Jungkook (20 year age gap) Word Count: 5.4k~ (High key proud of myself because I wrote this in two and a half days lol) Warnings: A heated discussion and some angst and maybe a word or two of explicit language. a/n: Okay so this wasn't what I was planning on writing for this next chapter but I think it was about time since their relationship was starting to get serious. (he's older so he doesn't want to waste any time lol) Start from the beginning

"Jungkook?" I ask, poking my head into his office and he puts a finger to his lips but beckons me to come closer, sitting me down on his lap. 

"I'll go over those case files and get back to you on Monday morning. Thank you, you too" he says, no doubt ending a call with one of his clients that's itching to get their case closed leaving him sighing and hanging up the phone. 

"What is it Bun?" he asks, having noticed the conflicted look on my face and I can't help but get nervous again at the thought of bringing this up. 

"It's been a few months since...well since everything happened" I start and he adjusts me so I'm straddling his lap facing him fully now but he doesn't rush me to continue. 

"Have you spoken to Jina?" I ask, finally looking up at him, fidgeting with my fingers as a nervous habit to which he takes and places a few kisses on my knuckles. 

"Not recently, why?" he asks and caresses my face, giving me a sense of comfort and coaxing me into continuing so I don't shy away from the topic.

"She's no doubt getting pretty close to her due date now so...after all we've been through I still don't want her to go through this alone" I admit and he nods, pondering my words but not saying too much just yet. 

"She's had enough time to hopefully reflect and regret what she's done and she's probably endured a lot of the struggles that go along with pregnancy on her own and I don't know" I trail off at the end and he stays there, still listening since I clearly have more that I want to say. 

"She was my best friend" I whisper, my voice cracking, the emotions of our lost friendship ended in the worst betrayal imaginable coming back to me. 

He pulls me closer and runs his hand up and down my back, telling me it's okay to let it out, knowing that this is something I have yet to heal from. 

"You want me to see if she could come over?" he asks softly once my sobs have turned to sniffles and I nod, my face still buried in the crook of his neck. "Want me to do it right now?" he continues and I nod, sitting back and wiping away the tears. 

"Can you ask if she could come over tomorrow?" I ask, my sniffles still prevalent and he nods and kisses both of my cheeks before grabbing his phone off his desk and pulling up her number and pressing call. 

I don't even notice the way I hold my breath while we wait for her voice, waiting and waiting until she finally picks up on the seventh ring. 

"Dad?" she says, her voice full of pure confusion. "Hey Jina, you busy?" he asks, wanting to be respectful of her time since neither of us has any clue what her life or schedule looks like. 

"I got a second to talk. Is something wrong?" she asks, knowing that this isn't just your normal 'just checking in' chat.

"I just wanted to see if you could pass by the house tomorrow? I...we kinda wanted to talk to you" he says, hesitant on if he should mention me just yet but he knows this is better than blindsiding her. 

"We meaning y/n?" she sighs and all Jungkook does is hum in response. 

She lets out another sigh and thinks about it for a while, rightfully so since she's not exactly sure what she'll be walking into but finally agrees after her pause. 

"I can come around five" she says and I let out another breath that I hadn't realized I had held and I chew on my bottom lip, the time and date now settled giving me a sort of countdown to obsess over until she knocks on our door. 

"Perfect. I can make us dinner" Jungkook offers but she's quick to decline. "I'd rather not if that's alright" she says carefully, all of us walking on eggshells around each other. 

"Whatever you're comfortable with Jina" Jungkook nods and I give him a sad smile in return.

They wrap up the call soon afterwards, me leaving half way through to give them some privacy going into the kitchen and fixing both of us some tea to help us relax after that not too comfortable exchange. 

He comes out of his office just as I'm taking the tea bags out, adding a little sugar to each leaving him taking them soon after and placing them at the kitchen table with me following behind. 

"You okay?" I ask, worried that he's been quiet since he came out. "I'm just thinking" he says giving me a lopsided smile. 

I nod and take one of his hands in mine, running my thumb along his knuckles and he squeezes my hand back, looking down on them. 

"Thank you" I say quietly and he looks at me with a puzzled expression. "I know she's your daughter and I know it's been hard on you choosing between me and her so I'm just glad to see that you're open to seeing her even if you're not sure if you're ready" I say and he nods and mulls over how he wants to respond. 

He's tired. 

I know he's been tired and it hasn't just been from work although the case he's been working on has been all but consuming him at this point.

He's been struggling with something for a while and I know he's been hesitant to bring it up so I'm hoping that this conversation with Jina will in some way help. 

I don't want to say that's all that's been on his mind lately but I know it's been a big part of it. 

"She's seven months pregnant" he mumbles and I hum. "I know" is all I say in response, squeezing his hand again and from the way his breathing is wavering I know he's close to breaking. 

"I'm a horrible father" he says and I shake my head and bring his hand to my lips and kiss it, not pulling him close just yet since I know he needs to process this. "You're not a horrible father Jungkook" I say with conviction but he shakes his head. 

"I pushed away my only daughter after finding out she was pregnant and shut her out of my life for months" he says, taking his hand out on mine and resting both of his elbows on the table, running his fingers through his hair before digging the palms of his hands into his eyes, no doubt trying to keep them from crying.

"You didn't shun her Jungkook, she could've come back to try and mend things" but he shakes his head. 

"We both made her feel unwelcome" he says and although I know it's true it still hurts to hear him say that. "She could've been struggling this whole time and I never would've known" his voice cracks, his body tense and breathing uneven. 

I've been keeping tabs on her as best as I could through social media and from what I can tell she's been doing okay although you never really know. It could've all just been something she kept up with just to save face. 

I scoot closer to him and rub my hand along his back, not saying anything since I know it won't reach him right now. Once I get closer though he breaks and pulls me in, burying his face in my neck and holding onto me as if he was afraid I would leave him if he let go. 

His whole body shakes as he lets out soft sobs, this strong man in pieces in my arms breaking my heart with every shaky breath. 

I whisper to him and reassure him that we're gonna get through this and that everything will work out the way it's supposed to. 

I can't bring myself to say that everything is going to be okay because I don't know that. Jina could turn around and leave this house and never say a word to us ever again so I can't promise him anything other than the fact that I'll stay with him. 

If he'll have me I'll stay with him through it all. 

"I don't even know what gender the baby is" he says, pulling back and sniffling, looking up at me with red swollen eyes and a tear streaked face. "I do" I say softly and his brow shoot up, "Would you like to know?" I smile and brush his hair out of his face leaving him giving me a little nod and leaning into my touch. 

"She's having a girl" I say and give him a small smile and his eyes tear up again. "I'm gonna have a granddaughter?" his voice breaking again. "Yeah, you're gonna be a grandpa" I chuckle and wipe away the tears on his cheeks. 

"Can we get her something?" he asks, his eyes full of stars as he looks at me and I nod. 

"I've kinda been getting her stuff since I found out" I laugh sheepishly and he sniffles, wiping the fresh tears that have threatened to fall. "Really?" he asks leaving me smiling, "Really really".

He cups my face in return, "You're a lot softer than I thought you were" he smiles and I chuckle. "What's that supposed to mean?" gaining me a nose scrunch in response.

"Have you forgotten that I've been here on all the occasions you told Jina and Jared off? What do the kids say these days? You ate them up?" he chuckles, poking my sides making me swat his hands away.

"Don't say stuff like that" I giggle and shake my head. "Why not? Am I too old for it?" he asks and I nod, leaning into his touch when he cups my face. "Yes but before you even ask, no you're not too old for me okay?" I give him a pointed stair so he knows I'm being serious. 

"Having Jina here is going to make all of us uncomfortable but we can't hide from each other for forever right? It's time we had some of those conversations we've been putting off" I say and he nods. 

"You know, for being a lot younger than me you're a lot more mature than me in some areas" he teases but I shrug. "We just compliment each other. That's all" I say, not really taking the compliment so much as acknowledging the fact that where one lacks the other makes up for it.

"How long have we been together for?" he asks making me pause,

"Well that's kind of a complicated question. I kissed you for the first time about four months ago and we had been doing...things off and on since then but I want to say officially we've been together for around two and a half months. Why?" I ramble off and he hums, thinking to himself a little. 

"Just wondering" and I narrow my eyes at that, "About?" I try to coax him but he gives me just as much of a vague answer but one could only assume. "If it's too early" is all he says and moves me off his lap and stands to walk upstairs. 

"If it's too early for what?" I ask, chasing after him and he chuckles.

"You'll find out soon enough Bun" he responds and says no more on the topic making me grumble but he's soon catching me off guard and throwing me over his shoulder and down onto the bed, using distraction tactics that work wonders. 

~~~~

The next morning I wake up in a little bit of a panic, getting up and getting dressed as fast as I can. I get my hair and makeup done and dusted before the sun has even risen and by the time Jungkook finally gets out of bed he's greeted with me pacing back and forth downstairs. 

"Darling?" he yawns and walks over to me once he's descended the stairs, pulling me in for an embrace to stop my senseless pacing. "Did I wake you?" I ask, his warmth and familiar scent calming my nerves with him shaking his head and placing a soft kiss on my neck. 

"No, just missed you" he mumbles and his words bring me more comfort. I'm glad to see that even with what happened yesterday and what's bound to happen today he's still seeking me out for comfort. 

"I missed you too" I smile and hold onto him tighter for a second before leaning back, "Do you wanna see what I got for Jina and the baby?" I ask excitedly, happy I won't have to hide it anymore.

"You got stuff for both of them?" he asks making me nod and I lead him upstairs and into the guest bedroom. 

Once we're up there I have him sit on the bed while I open the bottom dresser drawer and pull out countless outfits for a little baby girl as well as maternity clothes for Jina and place them on the bed. Then in the drawer right next to it I pull out some self care spa day items and some baby scrap books for the first year after her daughter is born as well as a few small stuffed animals. 

He looks over every item as if they're the most precious things he's seen in a long time and I smile.

"I don't know how much or if she'll accept any of it but once I started I couldn't stop" I explain and he looks up at me and smiles, pulling me in by my waist and wrapping his arms around me from his seated position. 

"I know her's and my relationship will never go back to what it once was but I don't think an innocent child should have to suffer for a mistake that was made" I say running my fingers through his hair and he nods, resting his head against my stomach, nuzzling into me.

"We used to talk about having children at the same time and how they would be the very best of friends. How they would play together, go to the same school and how we would have mommy daughter shopping dates every weekend" I chuckle thinking back on it now. 

"I'd like to be a part of her little one's life if possible. She was brought into this world in a hurtful way but I want her to know that she is very much wanted and very much loved" I continue and he nods and props his chin on me so he can look up at me. 

"You don't know how much that means to me" he says giving me a teary eyed smile. "She's your granddaughter and she deserves to grow up in a family that loves her and I'd like to be a part of that if Jina lets me...and if you'll let me" I say and his lashes flutter in confusion. 

"How could I not let you?" he asks and I shrug. "I don't know I guess I just wouldn't want to confuse the child when she sees me with you while she's younger and if the dynamic changes and things don-"

"I hope you know I have the intention of marrying you" he cuts me off and my rambling is stopped in it's tracks. 

"You...what?" I whisper, afraid to even ask him to repeat himself. 

"I said I want to marry you some day, meaning that the dynamic between us will only grow into something even more beautiful and you being a part of our family is a given" he explains and now I'm the one that's crying. 

"You're serious?" I ask, sniffling and he smiles up at me, cupping my face and wiping away the few tears that have fallen.

"It was never my intention to pursue you just so I play with your feelings" he says and nod, hoping deep down that that wasn't the case. 

He hasn't given me a reason to think that that would be the case but my self doubt has made me feel disposable.

"I love you" I sniffle and he smiles and pulls me down onto his lap. "I love you too Bunny" he says and holds me close, never ever wanting to let me go and he knows that I feel the same. 

"I'm not proposing now because I want us to be together for a little while longer okay?" he says and I nod my head, my face buried in his shoulder. 

"When did the two of us become such babies?" I chuckle and pull back, "You crying yesterday and me crying today" I joke to lighten things up because I know we need to be clear headed when Jina comes. 

"I think it's okay to be a baby every once in a while" he smiles, "Plus you're my baby all the time" he teases and boops my nose.

"Okay okay enough with the mushy stuff. Do you think you could help me make a little..." I pause and look at all of the various items I've compiled "...big gift basket for Jina?" making him smile and squeeze me one last time before sliding me off his lap.

"Sure, I think I have an old Easter basket of hers in the garage or something. Be right back" he says and kisses me on the forehead before going on his search for something that might work. 

As I go through rolling and folding up the clothes so I'll be able to set them all into the basket when he's brought it I think about all the good times Jina and I had had together.

I hadn't really let myself reminisce much after everything that happened because honestly it took me a lot longer to heal from everything Jina did than from Jared.

Yes Jared and I were dating and I thought we were in love to the point where I almost married him but Jina was my friend, my twin flame, the one I went to when I felt like the world was caving in on me. 

Going from that to heartbreak worse than that of a lovers did just that, it broke me. 

One might find it dramatic but when you've been friends with someone for six years it's hard to just let them go and pretend like it never happened. 

Living in her home has been somewhat of a self inflicted torture but when laid side by side, me struggling to find a place and make ends meet on my own versus living with her sexy dad who loves me and I love him...the choice is kind of a no brainer.

"This work?" Jungkook asks, bringing in a big pink wicker basket that couldn't have been more perfect. "Yes!" I say and we work on putting it together. 

~~~~

Four o'clock rolls around, then four thirty, then five, then five thirty and I've started to pace back and forth, worried that I might've reached out too soon. 

"Bunny sit down" Jungkook coaxes softly for the fifth time but I shake my head.

"What if she really doesn't come? What if she wants nothing to do with us? What if she wants nothing to do with me?" I ramble and he finally stands in front of me and grabs me by the shoulders to keep me still.

"Then that would be her decision" he says, still speaking to me in that soft tone, knowing it'll help me calm down. "People heal and process things at their own pace so we can't really force her to do anything that she's not ready for" he continues and I nod. 

I know that that's the case. I know I was a complete asshole to her the last time she was here and I know that nothing will be the same after this but I can't keep myself from trying. 

Before I'm able to get out much of a response though there's a tentative knock on our front door, the both of us pausing for a second not sure what we should do. 

"You should probably answer it" I mumble to him and he nods and places a kiss on my forehead before doing so, leaving me standing awkwardly by the couch, waiting for them to sit down. 

"Hi Jina" Jungkook says, his tone full of sadness and longing but I know he's trying to hold it back as best as he can. "Hey Dad" she says, her tone almost mirroring his exactly...like father like daughter I guess. 

I try not to stare at their interaction but eventually Jina and I catch each other's eyes both of us nodding in greeting before they both come back over to sit down, Jungkook and I on the sofa with Jina choosing to sit on one of the arm chairs. 

"How have you been?" Jungkook starts out awkwardly after there's been a bout of silence.

"Good, pregnant. That pretty much sums it up I guess" she says and we both nod, another moment of silence stretches on, none of us knowing where to start so I finally jump in. 

"Thank you...for agreeing to meet with us tonight" I say and she just nods and places her hand on her belly, no doubt a coping mechanism of some sort to keep her grounded. 

"How's the baby doing? I heard you're having a girl" I say and that catches her off guard, clearly not having expected that I would be keeping tabs on her.

"Yeah...yeah I am. She's fine. The doctors say she's strong and healthy" she says and I let out a breath. 

"That's a relief" I say making her thoroughly confused. 

"A relief? My baby being healthy is a relief to you? The baby that I made with your fiancé? You're happy about that?" she says, getting upset already. I was prepared for this but it doesn't make it hurt less. 

"Jina we didn't call you over here to fight" Jungkook says but I hold my hand up as a way to tell him it's fine. She needs to speak her mind and I'll let her this time. 

"Oh so she's got you trained now huh? You think you're so mature and want to call me over and make nice now that my father and you seem to be getting serious is that what this is? Realized that if we like it or not as long as you're with my father you'll be forced to deal with me? Finally feeling guilty about making him choose you over me?"

"Okay Jina that's enough! You're not going to walk into my home and verbally abuse her like you did nothing wrong! All of our relationships have been destroyed because of what you did. Not her" Jungkook says, putting her in her place since he had yet to do that since this whole mess started. 

"So you're still choosing her over me" she scoffs, shaking her head. 

"That's not what this is about. We wanted you to come over here so we could make amends but it's clear that you're not ready for that yet" Jungkook sighs, and Jina makes moves like she's going to get up but I jump in to try and stop her. 

"Jina please, just...just let me say what I need to say and if you really want to leave then I won't stop you and I won't contact you ever again" I say and she seems tired enough after the harsh words she had thrown at us so she does a little wave in the air as a way to tell me to get on with it. 

"What happened between us sucked and I was hurt, I still am hurt but that's besides the point. Our relationship might not ever go back to the way it was and there's always gonna be that level of hurt or even resentment between us potentially for years to come. The fact of the matter at least on my side is I want to clear the air between us. We were friends and we have some fucked up history now but that doesn't mean that I stopped caring about you" I say and it's at those words that I see the slightest change in her expression. 

"Six years of friendship was broken up and it's hurt more than I thought it would. I've wanted to reach out, I wanted to talk to you and ask you questions about it but I knew that that wouldn't do either of us any good" I continue and I see the tiniest nod of her head. 

"I know you might not want me in your life anymore and I respect that but I hope that you'll allow me to be in your daughter's. No matter the situation in which she was conceived she's still your daughter and I care for her. I know it might be selfish of me to say all of this but I just hope you'll understand" I wrap up and let out a small breath. 

"I don't hate you Jina" I finish off, tentatively reaching for her hand that's resting on her knee, "I might've for a little while and there might be a little part of me that's always going to be hurt by what you had done but I just wanted you to know" I end and let a pregnant pause linger in the air for a while. 

It's only broken up a few minutes later with a sniffle coming from her, having looked down at her lap to hide her emotions from us making her reaction catch us off guard. 

"Jina" I whisper and soon comes a choked back sob leaving me kneeling down in front of her and cupping her cheek. "Hey. Hey it's okay" I do my best to calm her but she shakes her head and pulls me into a bone crushing embrace, her sobs being muffled by my shoulder that she's buried her face into, the shaking of her body from the sheer force of them though is not as easily concealable.

Jungkook in the meantime has gotten up and placed a strong hand on her shoulder, showing her that he's still here for her too making her sobbing pick back up. 

As minutes turn to many more she finally stops shaking, her sobs slowed down to shaky breaths and suddenly turned to hiccups making me chuckle and push her back a bit. 

"Feeling better?" I say, my tone soft and my hand on her cheek again even softer and she nods followed by another sniffle quickly ending with another hiccup. 

"A little" she mumbles and I nod, giving her a lopsided smile before handing her the water bottle Jungkook's come back with along with a fresh box of tissues. 

I give her space to breathe once she started to chug the bottle and sit back down in my original place with her coming up for air a few seconds later. 

"Um, can I use the restroom?" she asks and Jungkook nods, helping her up when he sees her struggling a little with her belly getting in the way and leading her halfway before coming back over to me once she's closed the door. 

"You think she's okay?" he whispers and I nod. "She will be" I say and hold my hand out for him as a way to gently pull him back down on the couch with me. 

After Jina's taken a bit of a breather she comes out, no doubt having tried to splash some cold water on her face to stop her eyes from swelling, walking back over to us and taking her seat again. 

We all sit there in silence again and once I see Jungkook getting fidgety I decide to give all of us something else to focus on. 

"Wait here" I say softly and Jina nods, her head still facing her lap just like before and only lifting it once I've placed our gift for her on the coffee table in front of her. 

"What's all this?" she says, her head tilting side to side as she tentatively touches a couple of the items in the basket. "Well ever since I found out you were having a girl I've been buying things here and there and well..." I trail off, the sheer volume of items being a tad bit overwhelming. 

"How long have you known I was having a girl?" she asks, her voice a little horse and I stop to think for a second. "About a month and a half I think" I say and she hums.

"You must've gotten something every other day from the looks of it" she chuckles a little and pull out a little stuffed rabbit I had gotten. 

"I got some stuff for you too" I say and pull out the smaller bag full of the items I had gotten for her. "I would've put it all together but it didn't fit" I say sheepishly and I see her smile widen a bit more. 

"We really would love to be a part of your life again Jina" I say after a while and she smiles to herself. "Take some time though to think things through. I'm not trying to force you into it but again...I just wanted you to know" I say, my tone getting softer towards the end. 

She response with a soft 'Thank you' and after another minute or so of silence I get up and place a hand on Jungkook's shoulder. 

"I'll let you guys have some alone time but thank you Jina for hearing me out" I say and she nods again and I excuse myself, removing the pressure of having her feel the need to respond further but before I head upstairs she calls out for me making me stop my journey up the stairs.

"Thank you...for everything" she says with a weak smile and I simply give her one back, finishing my ascent and head to Jungkook's room, knowing it's the room that is furthest away from the living room to sincerely give them their privacy. 

~~~~~

An hour or so Jungkook comes looking for me and flops down on his bed next to me making the bed bounce. I chuckle and angle my body towards him and run my fingers through his hair, knowing it'll help him calm down since he seems drained after our eventful evening. 

"She gone?" I ask and he nods. "She told me to tell you goodbye for her" he mumbles and closes his eyes, letting out a big sigh. "Well I'd say that's a good sign?" I say and he nods, rubbing his face with both of his hands before finally turning his attention back over to me.

"Thank you" he breathes out and I hum. "How was your guy's talk?" I ask, continuing to comb my fingers through his hair. "It went alright. You definetly took the edge off for me so it was easier to level with her with her walls still down a bit" he relays and turns on his side now fully facing me. 

He watches me for a little while and I smile, "What?" and he just smiles back. "I'm just thinking about how I chose the right person to fall in love with" he says easily, making me almost not catch the sincerity of it. 

"You can't just say things like that" I scoff and lay down on my back, placing my hands over my face to hide my cheesy grin. "Hey it took me almost forty years to find you and six more until I could finally say it so I'm just trying to make up for lost time" he chuckles and I flip over onto my stomach. 

"Yeah and almost twenty of those years I wasn't even thought of" I say into the pillow and he hums and pats my ass a few times. "Exactly my point" and I groan at that. 

"You know you keep on bringing things up that point out our age difference recently. Are you trying to scare me away?" I ask, turning my face onto my cheek so I can look at him. "Is it working?" he says with a devious glint in his eye that tells me he knows the answer already.

"No" I narrow my eyes at him and his grin gets wider. 

"Then you have nothing to worry about" 

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[burst-of-iridescent]

yall need to stop this “but katara choose aang!” nonsense because a) idk how she personally told you that when she doesn’t exist and b) even if katara were a real woman, this is some choice feminism bs that willfully ignores a lot of the social pressures and dynamics within heterosexual relationships that kat.aang as a relationship taps into both within the world of atla & as a narrative.

the creators themselves have alluded to the fact that katara & aang’s relationship draws from the trope of a younger boy pining after an older, more mature woman who doesn’t give him the time of day at first but is eventually brought around with his persistence and determination to win her heart.

and this dynamic bleeds through into the show itself, especially when aang is talking to people about katara. he is told multiple times that she’ll come around because he’s the avatar and that all he needs to do is not give up. the social dynamics of the kat.aang relationship even within atla reflects the prevalent narrative around straight relationships in our world: if you keep trying, the girl you like will obviously give you a chance eventually, because how could she not?

that’s troubling enough but then comes the second half of book 3, and now this narrative isn’t reflected just in those around aang, but in aang himself. what began as a sweet, harmless adolescent crush warps into something more dangerous, more familiar: entitlement. the aang of ember island players is one who demands katara’s love, not one who wishes for it. just look at the language used here:

i thought we were going to be together, but we’re not.

why don’t you know?

when is the right time?

the line delivery here is frustrated, almost accusing — this is not the way you talk to a girl you claim to love. this is the irritation of a long-promised reward that continues to be denied, something you wanted but cannot yet possess. this is eerily, intensely reminiscent of real-world gender dynamics, and it continues to be reinforced when katara responds according to the same gendered script:

aang, i don’t know.

we’re in the middle of a war. this isn’t the right time.

i’m sorry but right now, i’m just a little confused.

katara gives neither a yes nor a no but a neutral, noncommittal in-between. her tone and body language are apologetic yet clearly tense, uncomfortable — dancing that fine line most women are familiar with, of having to let down a man yet protect his feelings at the same time.

it’s one thing for the narrative of kat.aang to be misogynistic from a doylist perspective, but when the same applies within a watsonian analysis as well, that’s a far bigger problem. when you set up this dynamic for kat.aang in the show and double down on it as their last romantic interaction, you cannot then remove the implications that follow when katara inexplicably, wordlessly, obediently kisses aang in the finale:

that she loved him because she felt she had to.

because that is the underlying societal expectation of this particular dynamic, the same expectation the show itself has set up within the advice aang receives: that a woman’s affections are owed to the man who fights for them, and if he fulfils his obligations in pursuing her, she will fulfill hers in turn by dutifully rewarding him.

as with women in the real world, no choice katara makes in her world is free of the delicate, insidious entanglement of social pressures and gendered expectations that underlie and drive those choices, even subconsciously.

so yes — katara chose aang. but as the show ends with no insight on her part as to the nature of this choice, the question still remains: did she choose him freely, joyfully, unfettered and unburdened by the weight of expectation? or did she choose him as the girl who always did what had to be done, who took on duties that she was too young to shoulder for the sake of the people she loved, who could never let down the child she fiercely, lovingly protected from the moment she met him?

[guided-by-stars]

Siffrin deals with his anxieties (both rational and irrational) by performing rituals and compulsions. These rituals can become obsessive, especially in times of heightened stress, and often focus around either checking things, or numbers. They also deal with intrusive thoughts, with such frequency and intensity that it impacts their ability to function. Those...are all symptoms of OCD.

Let's define some terms, before we go into examples. What are obsessions in this context? This often refers to obsessive thoughts/anxieties/mindsets. These are prevalent, reoccurring, sometimes disturbing, often irrational fears. Intrusive thoughts are one example of this, though not all obsessions are intrusive thoughts. Intrusive thoughts are specifically unwanted and very distressing and often graphic thoughts or images in one's mind. An example of such is this:

Next, are compulsions and rituals. Compulsions are actions that one takes to break the obsession spiral. These either soothe the root fear (though usually temporarily), or quiet the disturbing thought or image. Rituals are "safe" compulsions, decided as such either by repetition or irrational logic. The wording that Siffrin uses when questioned about obsessive checking of pillars is as follows:

One of the most common mental justifications for compulsions is "But what if?". The perceived cost of performing a compulsion is often weighed as nothing against the potential of something truly awful happening. "What if?" carries a lot of weight for people dealing with OCD- often one knows that both the fears and the compulsions are irrational and logically one cannot control the Universe by tapping a certain amount of times on a table, checking for the tenth time if your alarm was set, or repeating a phrase multiple times in your mind. However, the weight of the potential fear is just so great that one cannot take the chance, even knowing that. This paradoxical position of both awareness and delusion that many with OCD have is called "OCD with insight" (1)

This post became....much longer than I planned, so the rest will be under the cut. Please read the rest though!!! There's so much more to it! ☆

The diagnostic criteria for OCD in the ICD (2) and the DSM (3) are relatively similar (though the DSM focuses a lot more on ruling out other causes for similar behavior like anxiety disorders and delusional disorders), and focus on the obsessions being self-sustaining and the rituals being often time consuming and frustrating to have to do. However, not all compulsions are even notable enough to the person to cause any frustration or discomfort, nor are all of them consciously done with any sort of logic behind them. It's quite common for people to perform compulsions without even having a reasoning for why (4).

Hey, weren't we talking about Siffrin ISAT? What's with all this research paper bullshit? Can't you just show me where in the game my blorbo shows signs of mental disorders???!?

Well, one example of rituals that Siffrin engages in is repeating phrases, either out loud or in their head. The number they tend to come back to, again and again, is three. This is shown when they are explaining Wish Craft, and despite the fact that the specific number of repetitions of your wish genuinely doesn't matter, just that it's repeated at all, they instinctively say to repeat your wish three times, before catching themselves and correcting their error.

...When Loop explains their Wish to Siffrin, they say it three times as well. "I wished it could be over. I wished I could get out of here. I wished for someone to help me."

Whenever Siffrin wants something to go right, throughout the game, he also almost always repeats his desired outcome three times.

It's a noticeable enough habit that his party members mention it, when in the trap room. They've noticed the ritualistic mumbling that he does whenever he wants something to go right.

It's not just when they want something to go right that they're doing it though. They repeat things three times when they're panicking, too, to calm themselves down. When they loop back after beating the king:

It's not even just thinking or saying things either, they take actions in threes too, to soothe themselves. After Kingquest:

You can see both thinking things in threes and acting in threes here. It's everywhere. If you look through the game again, you won't be able to help but notice how often they do things in threes.

Speaking of the coughing though, that's another one of the compulsions they do. Covering their mouth, coughing, gagging, they do all of those when trying to banish disturbing memories or thoughts from their mind.

After looping when refusing to try to say the name of their country when the King asks.

Notice again, they repeat "You know" three times. Like I said, you'll start seeing that EVERYWHERE now.

To note, if you try to say it once and try not to say it another time, you'll get this instead:

Three breaths, here.

I could go on, but I don't think I need to.

Another important factor when considering OCD is the need for control. People with OCD not only report a lower level of perceived control over their thoughts and actions, and not only tend to need a higher level of control than the average person to feel safe and comfortable, but also, the less control over their environment they have, the more that OCD symptoms often intensify. (5)

Siffrin is in a paradoxical position here, in regards to control. When they first realize they're in a timeloop, they're absolutely ESTATIC. The first bathroom break monologue exemplifies exactly WHY he's so euphoric at this point:

He's euphoric with CONTROL. No matter what happens, he can always try again. He's safe. He can keep everyone he loves safe. He has SO MUCH CONTROL.

When the illusion shatters, after he's dragged back when they beat the king, that's when he realizes how little control he actually has. Sure, he can decide when he loops (most of the time) but he can't decide to STOP looping. He's trapped. The more he tries to escape, the less control he seems to have (Eg, what happens to Bonnie). After that, we can see him start to have intrusive thoughts, engage in more ritualistic behavior, and end up in more unhealthy anxiety spirals.

...And, we see him lean into the little control he DOES have (looping) more. Any time he's in a stressful situation? Any time that the control he has over a situation starts slipping away? Is Bonnie yelling at him with tears in their eyes and telling him to die? Is Isabeau pulling away from their shaking grip on his collar? Is Odile confronting him on his suspicious behavior? Are things OUT OF CONTROL? ...Control is taken back. Forcefully. He can't handle loosing more control, not when he already feels so helpless and trapped.

Talking about the bathroom scenes, there's another one I want to point out. The first Friendquest run. It's the perfect example of delusional anxieties and compulsions used to quiet the distressing thought, rather than soothe them.

...Yeah.

Siffrin is suddenly overcome with the anxiety that the simple act of believing that his plan could work will somehow make it not come true anymore. This is an example of "magical thinking", or a belief that defies the scientific or culturally accepted laws of causality (eg. "If I step on a crack, my mother's back will break"). It's specifically an example of TAF, or "Thought-action fusion", which is the belief that one's mere thoughts can cause completely unrelated actions to happen in the real world. This is an essential part of how compulsions can genuinely relieve anxiety, and is actually one of the differences between those with other anxiety disorders and those with OCD. Magical thinking is essential to OCD. (6)

This exchange also showcases an example of how compulsions done to quiet rather than to soothe can sometimes involve self harming behaviors to "shake" the thought out of one's mind. In this case, him hitting his own head and focusing on the pain rather than on the thought. Most definitely not a healthy way to deal with it! But what else do we expect from Siffrin, honestly.

Another example of a self-harming compulsion being used to "shake" out a distressing and unwanted thought, also including a more minor example of magical thinking:

Researchers and psychologists have often attempted to divide OCD into subtypes. This has usually been done because different types of obsessions often demand different treatment plans. (7) The actual divisions have varied from researcher to researcher, but one type that consistently comes up, is harm OCD/moral OCD. (Of note, one person usually, but not always, fits into multiple subtypes. I personally think Siffrin fits into multiple) Harm OCD is characterized by a fixation on believing one is a bad person and causing harm to others, often despite others expressing the contrary. This often comes along with very intense self-criticism and judgement.

After repeating a Friendquest route multiple times:

Mal Du Pays fight:

Siffrin specifically is fixated on the worry that the knowledge that they gained by looping gives them an unfair power dynamic with their party, and taking any action informed by that knowledge means that they're taking advantage of them or forcing them to do what he wants. This is despite the fact that, no matter what he chooses to do, they are still autonomous beings who do what they want. He has less control than he thinks.

Also from the Mal Du Pays fight:

("You should've died for me. You should've died to protect me. You should've died to protect me.", "You can wish and wish and wish all you want.", "They'll forget you. They'll forget you. They'll forget you.")

And what of Loop? They're also a Siffrin, right? Examination of the self from an outside perspective has given them time to introspect a bit more. They directly name and point out one of Siffrin's rituals. @dormont pointed this out, in one of his posts. (8)

Loop says, here:

They understand why Siffrin is doing this. Siffrin is afraid that he'll forget again. There was no warning, before the Island vanished from everyone's mind. The coin is a physical reminder that he forgot his first family, that he can't forget this one too. He often rolls it in his pocket, but sometimes grips it tightly, or flips it. In his mind, touching it will prevent him from forgetting again.

Now this is fascinating when thinking about One Hat, because in that eventuality Siffrin, after failing to find Loop at the Favor Tree, leaves his coin where Loop used to sit. This shows that he's doing better mentally, in Act 6. That he trusts himself more to remember, that he doesn't need the coin anymore.

Throughout the game, Loop keeps the comedy mask glued tight to their starry face. Because of that (and the fact that we don't see inside of their head), we don't get to see much of their own obsessions or compulsions. But there is one time where their mask slips. During Two Hats.

When they start becoming more and more distressed, they fall back into repetitions of three:

And if they win the fight....

And after the fight...

But of course, it's not all in distress. What was I saying, at the start of the post? The other reason why Siffrin repeats things in threes? When he wants something to go right, right? When he has a desired outcome, when he's sharpening his knife, when he's carving a figure. "Please be sharp, please be sharp, please be sharp."? At the end of it all, as Loop is fading away:

"I'll see you again soon, I promise! I super promise! I super duper promise!"

And Siffrin understands exactly the intention and desire that they pressed into that repetition. After Loop is completely gone, they mirror their actions.

("You flip it once, twice, three times.")

("You will see each other again.")

Additional resources:

1: Taylor, E. (2020). Discordant knowing: A puzzle about insight in Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder. Mind & Language, 37(1), 73–93. https://doi.org/10.1111/mila.12301

(About the concept of insight in irrational cycles in OCD! Very interesting)

2: ICD 10: The complete official code set. Internet Archive. (2017).

(ICD 10, Account is needed to read the full thing)

3: American Psychiatric Association. (2013). Diagnostic and statistical manual of mental disorders (5th ed.)

(DSM 5, for reference)

4: Starcevic, V., Berle, D., Brakoulias, V., Sammut, P., Moses, K., Milicevic, D., & Hannan, A. (2011). Functions of compulsions in Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder. Australian & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry, 45(6), 449–457. https://doi.org/10.3109/00048674.2011.567243

(Article about reasonings behind compulsions. Honestly I think a lot of the "other reasons" categorized here for compulsions are just...different manifestations of reducing anxiety. But it's still helpful to show how sometimes compulsions are done subconsciously)

5. Moulding, R., & Kyrios, M. (2007). Desire for control, sense of control and obsessive-compulsive symptoms. Cognitive Therapy and Research, 31(6), 759–772. https://doi.org/10.1007/s10608-006-9086-x

(Article around OCD and the need for control)

6. Kingdon, B. L., Egan, S. J., & Rees, C. S. (2011). The illusory beliefs inventory: A new measure of magical thinking and its relationship with obsessive compulsive disorder. Behavioural and Cognitive Psychotherapy, 40(1), 39–53. https://doi.org/10.1017/s1352465811000245

(Article about magical thinking/TAF/history of the other studies done on the importance of them in OCD & creating a better framework to assess them)

(7) McKay, D., Abramowitz, J. S., Calamari, J. E., Kyrios, M., Radomsky, A., Sookman, D., Taylor, S., & Wilhelm, S. (2004). A critical evaluation of Obsessive–Compulsive Disorder subtypes: Symptoms versus mechanisms. Clinical Psychology Review, 24(3), 283–313. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cpr.2004.04.003

(Critical overview of the concept of OCD subtypes and what their purpose is)

(8)

(Eve's post :]. Check the replies for more elaboration!)

[themeraldee]

The Lucky Winner - Part 2

[Masterlist] [Part 1]

18+ Only | 7.3k | Homelander x fem!Reader | Early Season 1. Voice kink (mild). Roleplay. Established Relationship. Masturbation. Dirty Talk. Unprotected sex. 

Summary: After much deliberation you finally decide to meet your hero at a meet & greet.  

Author’s Note: Sorry if the ending of this feels a little confusing. I did have an idea for a retrospective Part 3 of this that would cover the events in between Part 1 & 2, clearing up the confusion a little bit, let me know if you'd be interested!

The metal detector beeps, finally letting you through after the hassle of emptying your entire bag and getting a full body scan. You quickly collect your scanned belongings and you scuttle along, almost sprinting across the now-empty hallway. You’re breathing heavily, holding onto the bag over your shoulder as you reach the right door. Panicked and out of breath you show your pass to the man working the door and he just about lets you in grumbling something about it being way past the time slot and how you’re the last one in. You ignore all of it, instead you focus on your breathing and move along. You inhale sharply through your nose, trying to mask just how winded that rush got you. 

You take your place as the last one in the line. Turning around just in time you see the door guy close off the room, not letting anybody else in. Phew. You just about made it. You smooth out your summer dress, adjusting the bag you had over your shoulder as you look around the hall. God, you’ll be waiting forever!

You knew it would be busy but having usually avoided convention centres it still hits you hard with how overwhelmingly packed the hall is. The ventilation and air conditioning could be state-of-the-art and it would still feel stuffy. Looking around you feel like one of the few people who didn’t bother dressing up like their favourite heroes. You see about thirty Queen Maeves at a quick glance, another twenty Black Noirs, a few of the Seven’s new member Starlight but the most prevalent one is easily a sea of Homelander knock-offs. The sea of cheap red, blue and white assaults your vision, making it actually pretty overwhelming to look around.

For once Homelander is actually drowned out in a sea of look-alikes where normally he stands out like a sore thumb in all his primary-coloured glory. Homelander. Just the thought of seeing him here makes you pick at your nails and bite your lips with anxiety. Sure, you’ve met him before. You’ve talked. You even had sex, really good sex, goddammit. You have history. But still, you’ve never done this. Not the in-public meet & greets that you decided to put yourself through today. But still, you’re doing this for him. 

The longer you’re standing at the end of the line the longer being surrounded by fans dressed in Spirit Halloween versions of the Seven’s costumes is becoming less comical and more uncanny valley. You only wonder what it feels like to them.

You slowly move through the line. Sighing impatiently, your nerves are slowly being replaced by irritation as you watch the interactions play out in front of you. You’re now close enough to see and overhear. Thankfully with each step you take forward the people in front of  you get what they came here for and they leave, making the hall a little more breathable. 

You’re now watching Homelander as he tends to each fan, all puffed up and high energy to replicate the vision they all have of him but you see how much he wishes to be anywhere but here. Most of the Seven do. Vought plucks them from what most expected to be their duties, like saving the world, and instead they drop them in front of cameras and paying fans. You watch as Homelander signs each piece of merchandise his fans bring him, one after another with a smile on his face.

Having seen part of his real self, or the extension of himself he doesn’t show the media you see the smile for what it is. Placating, empty, downright forced. Were you none the wiser you wouldn’t have thought to look past the showmanship but now you knew better. It was easy to notice his tells, his jaw ticks anytime he’s irritated, his eye twitches anytime he has to hold a smile for too long or anytime he’s forced to compliment someone. You overhear his booming stage-voice going, ‘you look great buddy, wear it better than I do!’ for about the twentieth time. The crowd eats it up, again, and somehow they’re blind to his tortured expression. Sure, he hides it very well but if any of them cared to look underneath the surface it would be glaringly obvious. Instead they look at him like the hero they want him to be. Flawless, perfect, serving their needs. The more you’re privy to this viewpoint the more it grates on you. He’s so much more than that! And you don’t understand how they don’t see it. More than that, you're angry that they willfully don’t want to see it. Why would they ruin the image of a perfect hero they look up to when they don’t care to know the person behind the suit in the first place. 

You shake your thoughts away, focusing on keeping up with the queue. Thankfully the hall has now almost emptied, few residual fans loiter around taking pictures of themselves in their costumes with the Seven members right behind them. As it’s almost your turn, and with that the end of the event, you clumsily pull out a postcard out of your bag clutching it in your hands getting it ready to be signed.

With each step you hear him clearer and clearer. Your heartbeat picks up and by the time the Homelander female cosplayer in front of you gets her very own, ‘you might as well take my spot, you pull it off better than me’, your heart is pounding so hard that you think it must grate on Homelander’s nerves. You rub the glossy paper of the postcard in between your fingers trying to distract yourself from the impending doom that’s bound to be caused by whatever comes out of your mouth. Even after all that’s happened between you two, all that history, you cannot stop yourself from feeling flustered in a situation like this.

You’re so stuck in your head that you don’t realise that the lady in front of you already left and all who’s left is…well, you.

You’re broken out of your trance by a familiar voice.

“Looky, looky, who's here? I can't believe you actually showed up at one of these.” There he goes, grinning like a Cheshire cat as he quickly looks you up and down. Already his eyes are glittering with excitement. Your heart skips a beat at his smile. It's more genuine. You see the annoyance seep out of him, his posture a little more relaxed. 

“Yeah…about that. I thought I couldn't really call myself a fan otherwise right?” You rattle off some lines and your anxious mess of a gut is slowly unravelling to make room for the coil of excitement replacing it. Sure, you’re nervous. How couldn't you be. But the place is nearly empty and there isn't much he could say that would get you as flustered as he did the first time.

“Here for an autograph? The one I gave you before wasn't good enough?” Right. Scratch that. You blush a bright red as the images flood back into your mind. And he's grinning so widely, clearly pleased with how he can so easily make you into a blubbering mess. Even if someone overheard, there’s technically nothing dirty about his words but the shiver they send down your spine along with the vivid imagery is enough to make you feel indecent in a public space.

“No—no! It was, um, great. I just—uh—wanted something a little more permanent.” You quickly look around seeing if anyone caught that interaction as if they could read your mind. Well, you are in a room full of superheroes, who knows what they can or can’t do. Thankfully, it doesn’t appear like anyone is interested in Homelander signing a photo for yet another fan. The rest of the Seven is slowly filtering out of the room, finally relieved of their duty.

“Alrighty-doo, let me sign that for you.” He takes his hand out prompting you to put the postcard in his palm. You do so, giving him a little timid smile. Your hands shake a little as you retreat them back by your sides. Catching the way his eyes linger on the movement you cover your shakiness by clasping your hands together in front of you.

“Is this all you want me to sign? Did you really wait the entire line for that?” He says his eyes squinting incredulously as he waves the postcard with his likeness in front of you. Without waiting for your answers he still places it in front of him reaching for his marker pen.

“What was I meant to bring?” You scrunch your eyebrows with confusion. Sure, you weren’t used to going to these events but you still brought something he could sign, that’s good enough, is it not?

“For starters, something that my signature won’t cover entirely.” 

“It’s fine if it covers it.” You brush off his concerns. Really you didn’t care about the signature as much as you cared about seeing him. So placement be damned.

You look as he uncaps the pen, turning the card around. It’s a photo of him in his hero pose standing against a very patriotic background. Originally it came in a pack of seven postcards, one for each member of the Seven. You don’t want to admit that you were so anxious over deciding whether you would even turn up or not that when it came to the day you forgot to bring an item to sign. Hence the pack of generic postcards you bought on the way when you realised that you forgot just about the most important item. This also turned out to be the reason for your tardiness, you spent way too long in the shop just angsting over the small selection of items you could even pick from. 

“You know it's a real shame you of all people didn't come dressed up. I'd like to see you as Mrs Homelander.” He says all cheeky and amused at the image in his head, while he’s fiddling with his marker pen, trying to start his signature for the third time but the ink has run out.  

“Oh no no no, I couldn't. I don't think it would be a good look on me. I mean nobody can rock the uniform like you do!” The idea of dressing up as him was ridiculous, you couldn’t just take that away from him. He’s more than a circus animal to you.

“You think I rock it?” He gives you a look, clearly fishing for compliments while he lets his voice rumble. He might not be in your ear but you still feel a shiver dance down your spine. You don’t think you’ll ever get over the effect his voice has on you. He just knows how to pull your strings. And what’s a puppet to do if not follow.

“It looks very good on you. The colour brings out your eyes.” You make an awkward gesture, pointing at your dress and then your eyes, as if it wasn’t obvious that those two had the same colour on him. You cringe internally but he always seems endeared by your awkwardness. You think it probably feeds his ego. You’re always such a mess in front of him and he slurps it up.

“Wowie, heavy on the flattery today are we?” He’s fiddling with his marker pen, trying to start his signature for the third time but the ink has run out.  “Oh for fucks sakes.” He tries another two times, the leather of his glove creaking with pressure around the pen. You expect him to snap it in half at this point but he just sighs and recaps the used marker, placing it down. He looks around, his jaw ticking as he mumbles, “where the fuck is Ashley…” He rolls his eyes, muttering something about being surrounded by incompetent idiots as he stands up. 

“Just, come with me, I think there are some spares in my dressing room.” He waves his hand, still holding the postcard in the other one.

“Are you sure? It’s really no big deal!” You feel guilty at the way his suggestion sends a shiver up your spine. You’re not entitled to it but the fantasy of him fucking you in his dressing room still plays out in your mind. 

“Nope, you waited your turn. You know I’m not one to leave my biggest fans empty handed.” He winks at you before he beckons you to follow him. You give a short nod and you scurry behind him like a little duckling, mesmerized by the sway of his cape swishing with each purposeful step. You feel your heart rate rise with every step, just being in his presence is overwhelming and the closer you get to his dressing room the more vivid your fantasy gets.

“Righty-ho,” Homelander says as he opens the door to his dressing room, fiddling around to pick up a spare marker. He presses the postcard against the wall signing it for you with a silver sharpie. You stand in the half open door a little awkwardly. Rather than focusing on him, you’re looking around making sure nobody sees you standing in Homelander’s dressing room. He tears you away from your paranoid thoughts as he hands the card back to you with a sing-songy, “there you go!” 

Your eyes widen and you gingerly take the postcard with a “oh, thank you,” and you gently put it back into your bag, not wanting to smear the ink. Part of you was disappointed that he genuinely took you here for innocent reasons. 

Like the open book you’ve always been to him he reads your facial expressions for what they are barking a laugh at the dumb-struck look you were sporting. “What? Did you think I brought you here to fuck you?” He leans against the doorframe, his tone a little condescending and mean. 

You really do your best to recover but your embarrassed blush and the spike in your heart-rate is such a blatant giveaway of your true thoughts. “N-no! I wouldn’t, of course not.” It doesn’t matter what you say in the moment, it’s not wiping the all-knowing smirk off his face.

“Jesus, you’re so easy, you know that?” His gaze is predatory as he looks you up and down again, this time slowly, reaaally taking you in. Before you know what’s happening he yanks you into the room, closing the door behind you. For all his strength he controls it well as you don’t end up with a dislocated shoulder after a move like that.

He cages you in against the door, leaning close to your ear so he can get his voice nice and low and he whispers, “For that kind of slutty behaviour I definitely need to fuck you.” You can hear the smirk in his voice. You love how easily he reads you, there’s nothing you can hide from and you know that these days, you’re his favourite book. In a way it’s liberating, it removes the thoughts behind actions, it removes the second-guessing. You know that he knows what you want. So you don’t have to make propositions and embarrass yourself further, he’s either gonna take you as he pleases or tell you to get lost. So far it’s always been the former. 

His gloved hand grabs the side of your jaw as he leans back and the woodsy, natural scent of leather whiffs past your nose. His other hand is less stationary, he brazenly glides his hand down your dress, generously palming your tits before he slides down further down your waist and back, settling on your ass. “Gotta teach you a lesson that you shouldn't be spreading your legs for men you don't really know that well.” He growls out tilting your head so he’s directly staring into your eyes with his impossibly piercing blues.

“You’re not just a man.” 

“Mhm you got that right.” He purrs all pleased at the obvious stroke to his ego. You’re all flustered, breathy and eager for him and he loves it. The pure adoration and love you give him so easily just flows through him, feeding that black hole starved for affection inside him.

He didn’t wait a second longer to kiss you, one gloved hand still on your jaw, the other quickly moving up to the back of your head pressing you into him. With a moan he kisses you, already acting like you’ve been starving him this entire time. His kisses are feverish, already hot hot hot as his lips ply yours open. You feel his shaky breath hot against your lips while the plush pillows of his lips are pressing against yours in a frenzy.

You wrap your hands around his neck for support more than anything. You know how he gets. Your heart rate has skyrocketed by now, beating hard and loud in his ears as he presses his tongue in between your lips, already wanting to be in you one way or another.

You part your lips for him just like you’d part your legs and you let him kiss you, heavy, hot and wet as he holds you with almost shaky hands trying to get as much as he can out of you.

His ravenous kisses don’t relax you, they make your body feel tight, wound up, always expecting and wanting more. At this moment you need him as much as he needs you. You grind your body against him with each more pressing and needy kiss. You know he can feel you through his suit, even though it’s handily hiding his hard-on. He still moans when you rub against him, clearly just as wound up as you are.

He pulls away, his eyes no longer that bright piercing blue but now his pupils are blown, his gaze lustful and heavy. His breathing is rough and stuttered. Even though he can’t get winded or tired his body is so strained that he pants for you like a thirsty dog.

Homelander takes his time to calm down, wanting to take control of the situation, he wants you to look up at him with those unsuspecting sweet wide doe eyes while he defiles you. And you do, you look up at him, panting out of actual lack of breath and you stare in reverence. 

There he goes, grinning like a shark again and you’re already waiting for the foul words that he’s undoubtedly going to thoroughly wet your panties with.

“Tell me,” he purrs out, seducing you with his dulcet tones. “How many times did you make yourself cum to my voice, huh?” He’s now leaning into your ear again, knowing this is where the occasional brush of his lips makes your body burn bright and hot. “Or to the memory of my cock inside you?” 

You expect him to be filthy and talk with no filter, it’s his specialty behind closed doors, but it still catches you off-guard. It especially does anytime you’re reminded of the time he utterly ruined you for any other man in your home, in your safe space, in your bed.

“I don’t know—many times. I, um, I lost count.” You don’t know exactly what answer he wants from you but you know that he will turn each and every one against you. His hair tickles the side of your face as he nuzzles into you with a small whimper before continuing. 

“Yeah? Maybe you should show me, do it for me. A little performance as a reward for all that I've done for you.” You hear the restraint in his voice. You know he wants nothing more than to just fuck you, have you fall apart on him. For him. But you also know Homelander loves to play. And he doesn’t want the game to be over yet. “You can do that for me, can’t you?” He goads you with that. Homelander knows just as much as he swallows up all your love and affection; you thrive on being reminded of how much you adore and worship him. How much you’d do anything for him. Anything. 

Homelander pulls back from you, his hands now firmly on your waist as if you were a flight risk.

“What do you mean?” You regain some sense of self after he gives your hot and flushed body a little break. 

“I mean you’re gonna sit your pretty ass in that chair, make yourself cum for me, while I watch.” He guides your body towards the further end of the dressing room where he points at a chair in front of a lit vanity table that’s still littered with make-up and brushes from when his team got him ready for today’s event.

Your body is buzzing with excitement but part of you is still a little embarrassed by such a blatantly open display. He wants you to sit in that chair, spread your legs and give him a perfectly lit view of the way you get yourself off? Yeah, that’s not the easiest thing you’ve ever done. But again, for him, you’ll do anything. 

“Well, what are you waiting for?” He pulls the chair out a bit tilting his head towards it. He looks at you, blatantly undressing you with his eyes. Literally, undressing. You may not physically feel his x-ray vision but the look in his eyes and the way he stops at your tits with a leery smile on his face is very telling. He doesn’t bother to hide how much he ogles, he knows how much it turns you on anyway. “Come on, panties off and hop on.” He clicks his tongue impatiently.

You sneak your hands under your dress and pull the hem of your panties down. You slide them down your legs until they pool at your ankles where you step out of them with your shoes still on.

Homelander chuckles to himself as he picks up the undergarment inspecting the damage. “You’re like a faucet, always fucking dripping wet.” He brings them closer to his face, inspecting the pair of Homelander-themed panties. He inhales the scent of your pussy now that it’s long seeped into the fabric. “I didn’t think these would be salvageable after last time.” He speaks as if he was talking about the weather and not pure debauchery while he indulges in the scent of your cunt.

“I got more pairs.” You said with a shrug as you got into the chair. You had to jump up a little as it was set on the highest setting for Homelander’s viewing pleasure.

You watch as he tosses the panties on the vanity table in front of you. “You’re gonna have to spread those legs some more.” He tuts with his tongue. You spread your legs as wide as you can in the chair and he shakes his head. “No, nope that won’t do either. Legs up on the arm rests.” He commands and as much as you want to comply, even you have your limits.

“I’m not that flexible!” You yelp out in amusement. “Wait!” You exclaim again except this time he easily manoeuvres you around in that chair with his stupid strength and you feel like a pretzel as you’re being pushed into the right position.

He ends up hooking just one of your legs over the armrest letting you rest it against the vanity table and giving you a comfortable enough position but more importantly, giving him a great view. “See, there you go. Flexible enough.” He pulls off his gloves one by one, throwing them on the table, out of view. “Come on, show off for me,” He coos in your ear, his bare hands, hot and smooth, sliding up your legs picking up the hem of your dress on the way as he pulls it up.

You gasp at the view in front of yourself. In the lit mirror in front of you you see yourself spread wide, your pussy easily visible and glistening in the bright light. This might as well be a porn shoot with how well lit and visible all your parts are. As you instinctively start closing your legs Homelander presses your thighs down, barely putting any power into it yet you feel the unyielding strength thrumming through his fingertips.

“Don’t be shy, you know I’ve seen it all.” He tucks the skirt of your dress above your waist and behind your back. Your hand slowly slinks down to rest on the bunched up fabric of your dress.

He straightens up properly standing behind you, his hands land on your shoulders, close to your neck, squeezing softly. He watches you in the mirror. He extends his pointer finger pushing your jaw up so you look up and meet his gaze. “Keep going, spread that pretty pussy for me.” He growls in your ear as his eyes are locked on the way your fingers slide down your slit, your pointer and middle finger spreading your pussy open for him to see. “Just as I said, like a fucking faucet.” He chuckles at the sight of you drenched and dripping.

You blush at the way he’s staring so intently at your reflection. Your fingers tentatively run up and down, gathering the wetness on your fingers, bringing it up to your clit where you rub small, shy circles around it. You’re taut as a bow and struggling to relax.

“Stop thinking and start feeling.” Homelander purrs in your ear. “I know you can do this for me, can’t you?” His voice sends a hot flush down your body, and you feel your clit throb under your fingers.

“Yeah… I can.” You breathe you, closing your eyes for a second to take a deep breath. The tension slowly leaves your body as Homelander presses soft kisses down the side of your face as he leans over to your other side. You let your hand go on auto-pilot trusting it to know what to do. You suck in a sharp breath as he sucks on your jaw, giving it a little nip while you still circle your clit with a soft squelch of your slick.

“There’s my girl.” He watches as you breathe deeply, your eyes finally opening to watch as he descends more kisses down your neck. You shiver at the sensation, pressing in your fingers a little harder, at the right pressure in the right spot. You’re just about to dip lower, push a finger inside your wet, needy hole but Homelander speaks up. “Uh uh, nothing but my cock is going inside that pussy today so keep your fingers on your clit.” Your entire body prickles with heat all over at his words. He’s so brazen and upfront and no matter how many times you hear it it always makes your head spin and pussy throb. 

You nod a simple ‘okay’ and only ever slide your fingers down to collect more of your own slick. Homelander is whimpering with you as if just the sight of your pussy was enough to get him off. For him, it’s intoxicating. His senses enhance the way your slick squelches loud to his ears and the scent of your pussy just makes him want to stop this little game and rail you already. Yet, he’s a patient man when he wants to be. And more so, indulging in his own desperate urge isn’t as fun as watching you submit to him first.

“Eyes open.” Homelander interrupts the thoughts and visuals in your head. Your eyes snap open and you meet his sharp gaze in the mirror. You didn’t even realise you had them closed. “What were you thinking about?” He asks, almost testing you. As if saying, you better not be straying too far from the path he wants you on.

“‘M thinking about you fucking me.” You say meekly, your fingers rubbing at a particular rhythm now that you know will get you off. Your clit is already throbbing, aching under your fingers.

“Getting a bit ahead of yourself missy, first you’ll have to cum for me.” He says nonchalantly while he pushes the strap of your dress and bra down your free arm. As much as you’ve gotten more used to functioning around him, his voice still makes you dizzy, especially when he’s a master at saying the most depraved shit. 

You pause to help him get out of the other set of straps and when your arm goes up to slip out of the strap he gives your slicked fingers a little suck, tasting you with a pleased grin making you flush hot.

While you go back to rubbing your clit Homelander unclasps your bra from behind your back dropping it on the floor and he pushes your dress down, already groaning at the sight of your tits free for his eyes to feast on. He presses his hands against your tits from either side, groaning at the sensation of the plush pillows underneath his hands.

“That's a good girl, keep rubbing that clit.” He growls out an order, yet somehow he looks more frazzled than you while he's not even the one performing. “Open up,” he whispers, his voice frayed at the edges as he presses two fingers against your lips. Obediently, you open up giving them a suck and laving them with your saliva while you keep eye contact with his reflection. He moans at the raunchy display, his eyes glazing over as he pulls his fingers out. With both his hands back on your tits he pinches your nipples, overwhelming you with the different sensation of one being rubbed wet and the other dry. You whine at the sensation, your pussy throbbing with each hot breath you feel against your neck as he tucks his head against it.

He listens to your heart beat like a drum in his ear, while he gives your nipples all his love and attention. He whispers and moans sweet nothings into your ear whilst watching you rub harder and faster finding the perfect rhythm that has cascading heat climb up your spine. “Thaaat’s it, come on—fuuck—come on, you can cum for me. I know you can.” Homelander watches as your muscles tense, seeing your body just ready to snap. What really does you in is the way he’s whimpering like he’s the one getting off. It’s like he’s sharing all the pleasure you're feeling with you.  

You cum with Homelander’s lips whispering against your ear as you hold your breath, your body tense until it finally gives in and you feel the wave of heat and tingling pleasure wash over you from your core to your limbs. “Ohhh god.” You finally release your breath, your chest heaving with the release.

Homelander is less impressed. Clicking his tongue again against the roof of his mouth.

“Mhm that won’t do, you can do better than that. I’ve seen you cum better than that.” 

You barely have the strength to counteract his claim. This was easily one of your strongest orgasms and he’s trying to say that it was weak? Oh please. You shake your head. You know he’s just playing his little game of ‘I can do whatever the fuck I want’ so you let him.

“Come on, up you go,” He says as he pulls you up on your feet all wobbly and numb from the way you were sitting on the chair. He pushes the chair out of the way with enough force that it topples over with a bang. He bends you over the vanity table where you’re up close and personal with the mirror, watching Homelander’s reflection as he hurriedly unzips his pants pushing them halfway down his thighs. 

You can’t see his cock from this angle but you’re sure it’s rock fucking hard and leaking precum with the way he’s panting like a dog in heat. He’s not even in you and he looks about three strokes away from finishing.

“God, fffuck!” He grits out through his teeth before parting his lips letting a long groan out as the tip of his cock parts your folds, immediately finding your soaked hole and pushing inside with one long slide. He huffs and puffs, his head tilted back as he keeps his eyes shut with restraint. His cock is hot and hard inside you, giving your pussy something to quiver around. 

You’re overstimulated, your nerves totally fried and your body has still nowhere recovered from your performance of a lifetime but you still take him in. You push your ass towards him, whimpering yourself as you feel his hands land on your hips, holding you there. “Look at how your pussy just opens up for me. Taking me riiiight in.” Homelander’s voice is strangled and raspy as he hisses air through his teeth.

You whimper at the way his words leave you buzzing and mindless with pleasure. You prop your elbows against the table as he starts fucking you, dragging his cock agonisingly slowly at first as if he was so sensitive he was about to bust. 

Thankfully that gives you some time to recover and your pussy is no longer screaming at you that it’s too much. He gives you more and more with each thrust, letting out a breathy soft moan each time he hits home. Tip to hilt on every slide. 

His boots kick your legs together giving him a tighter, more pronounced feel. That’s where he really starts to pick up speed. He moves his hands up, gripping where the fabric of your dress is still bunched up as he wholeheartedly fucks into you, minding his strength of course, he gives you what you can take and not a drop more.

You’re so deliciously taken in by him that you barely remember where you are and that you reaaally shouldn’t be screaming and moaning at the top of your lungs. Against all odds, your body is still so wired up and wound up that you feel the climbing sensation prickle at your nerves, your legs quivering with each stroke.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Homelander pulls out of you unceremoniously and you whine.

“I was so close!” You pull a displeased face in the mirror, looking at his reflection.

“I know. And so does everyone on the other side of that door.” He mumbles as he picks up the panties he tossed earlier on the table except this time he balls them up stuffing them in your mouth. You protest around them, your eyes widening in shock and your body flushing with indecent heat when you get a remnant of your taste from the soaked fabric.

“I don’t need people barging in to see who’s screaming bloody fucking murder.”

He turns you around, swiftly picking you up and plopping you on top of the vanity table where you’re nicely lit from behind. “Now behave, the door’s not locked. I’d rather not have anyone see you like this. Capiche?” You nod fervently, at this point just doing anything to get him back in you. 

“Good girl.” He coos as he pulls your legs up wrapping his forearms underneath your thighs, his hands gripping the sides for easy control. And just like that he slides back into you. You give muffled little sighs into the fabric of your panties as he fucks you hard against the table, making it rattle on its legs. The littered makeup and brushes were now rolling off and in some cases breaking on impact.

“You’re always so fucking worked up. Just need someone to fuck you don’t you. Poor little fangirl, so obsessed with me she doesn’t even have time to date anyone else.” He gives you a sharp grin, his canines sharp like a predator’s would be. You body flushes with embarrassment at the almost degrading comment and with the way you’re gagged and fucked you feel like Homelander’s personal toy. 

He fucks you until your legs tremble in his hold and your eyes flutter shut with each press of his cock deep inside you.

He slows down with the literally mind-melting grinds of his pelvis against yours and instead he looks you straight in the eyes getting your attention. “Did you learn? Will you be good?” You nod. He takes the panties out of your mouth, leaving the now even more damp fabric back on the table. 

You keep your promise and you keep mainly quiet, biting your lips shut and only letting the occasional whimper out as he strokes a particularly good spot inside you. Instead you let your body do the screaming for you. You shake and tremble around him, all tense and hot and Homelander doesn’t need to hear you scream to know that you’re close.

With your lips free again he captures them, as if he’s been starved this entire time without them. He kisses you deep and wet while he bucks into you, slowly losing his impeccable rhythm as he’s so strung out for an orgasm it’s bound to happen any second.

“Ah—I’m, uh, close…” You nearly whisper out, all strangled and needy. Homelander nods, clearly just as far gone. He lets one of your legs go, instead letting you wrap it around his waist as he places his fingers on your clit, giving you the extra push to the finish line.

He doesn’t wait for you as he cums in the next, one, two, three, strokes. But he pushes through still fucking into you while his cock pumps you full of his load. You cum immediately after, it’s more the thought than the faint feeling of him finishing inside you that just pushes you over the edge. A burst of buzzing fireworks sparks behind your eyelids as you close your eyes shut through the euphoria sinking into your bones. 

You’re panting, catching your breath, moaning your residual finish in small whimpers. “Wow, that was—”

There’s a sharp knock on the door.

“Sir, you’re needed on stage in 10 minutes.” Ashley’s panicked shrill can be heard on the other side of the door and your heart stops for a second before realising it’s her. Ashley knows better than to barge into any rooms ever since Homelander’s shown interest in you. 

“Oh well, there goes the afterglow.” You mumble with a tired laugh. Homelander nods quietly as he tucks himself back in, finally spent and satisfied—for the time being at least.

Homelander looks at you with fond hunger, leaning in for a soft kiss. “Yeah. Sorry I have to cut it short.” He grumbles, displeased, as he nuzzles his face in the junction of your neck.

He pulls away, reaching for your bra and passing it to you so you could make yourself presentable again.

“Tell me, did you actually leave the door unlocked?” You ask. 

“No! I don’t want anyone else seeing you like this. Well. I want you out there with me, just not when you’re freshly fucked. That’s all for me.” He gives you a wide grin, unable to stop himself from peppering you with kisses, capturing your lips again hungry for them as if you’re constantly denying him air. 

“Thank you for today.” He breathes hotly against your lips. “You know how to indulge me, I really didn’t think you’d turn up.” He smiles against you, caving in for another kiss.

“What wouldn’t I do for you?” You say with an amused roll to your eyes, but it’s all light-hearted. He knows you really would do anything for him. 

“I haven’t found that out yet.” He rumbles all pleased as he helps you make sense of the mess he made of your dress.

“And you never will,” You beam at him, your heart pounding again but this time it’s just from that overwhelming love you have for him, the butterflies that don’t seem to ever calm down in his presence. Even though you’ve been secretly together for a couple of months ever since the fated phone call, the excitement hasn’t even begun waning yet. 

“Hey, you know, you’re a really great actress. Had me sold quite a few times. Maybe I should get Vought to cast you in a movie alongside me, huh?” He grins as he picks up his gloves, pulling them over his hands again. 

You have to laugh. Sure, you’ve enjoyed role-playing as the obsessed fan that you were a few months ago but it wasn’t all acting. 

“I wasn’t acting! Well, obviously I did with the ‘I don’t know what’s gonna happen’ part but beyond that I was really nervous to be with you like that in a public place. You know how I get. It’s not that I don’t want to be with you publically, it’s just a huge adjustment. So… baby steps.” You finally adjust your dress though you still very much look like you just got railed. 

“Come ooon, let me make you mine officially. Fuck this sneaking around. The people who need to know, know. The rest is not important.” He presents you with his sweet honeyed voice, and he’s cheating really, he knows how much it affects you.

In a way, he’s right. The people who matter at Vought know about you seeing as you’re up at his place every other day but there was something terrifying about announcing to the entire world that you were Homelander’s girlfriend. That’s nothing easy to get used to. He’s not just a celebrity. He is the celebrity. You will have to say bye-bye to the comforts of a private life. But maybe that’s all worth it for him. 

“Okay. How about you go do your job and I go do mine and when you see me for dinner we can talk about it again. Sounds good?” You said as you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another sweet kiss.

“Sounds good." He repeats before continuing with a fond, "I love you,” which always comes out a little strained. He’s never been able to say it without letting himself drown in the endless pool of emotions that are just swirling around inside him. 

“I love you too. Now go before Ashley has a heart attack. You’re already late.” You kiss him sweetly, adjusting his hair, making it look more purposefully-tousled, less ‘sex-hair’. You let him go, smoothing your hand down his suit. 

“Oh please, I’m the Homelander. Does the party really even start without me there?” He blows a raspberry into the air with a scoff.

“Sure doesn’t, babe.” You shake your head, amused as you watch him wave you off and shut the door behind himself.

You took the time to make yourself look more presentable but you couldn’t leave the room in the state you both left it in. So you collected the things that fell, you wiped the surfaces clean and you trashed whatever broke on the way. It’s the least you could do.

You looked into the mirror, almost not recognising the woman you’ve become over the past few months. Being someone who feeds off your endless adoration has done wonders for your confidence. You no longer feel crazy and obsessive. You’ve finally found someone who’s never gonna have enough of you. Someone who inhales your love like the oxygen he needs to breathe.

You revere Homelander less as an icon and more as a person, as a partner, these days. You know so much more of who he is now and strangely, while he scares others, you’ve never felt safer in his presence. Something about you two just clicks. It’s no wonder he wants to show you to the rest of the world. He wants to lock you in, have people forever associate with him.

And soon enough, there will be no way out.

[Part 3]

Taglist (you can add yourself to be notified anytime I publish a new Homelander story): @morishitoshi

[samkerrworshipper]

Initiation | Barca Femení x reader

part 1

warnings: insinuations of smut, sexual references, don’t read if you aren’t open to non monogamous relationships lol

you are responsible for your own digital consumption this is not made for anybody below the age of 18!

When it all had been proposed to you, you’d been shocked.

It was no secret amongst the soccer world that certain clubs had certain initiation customs, it was also no secret that inside a lot of clubs, especially the European ones, there was a lot of sexual fluidity across teammates. You weren’t oblivious, you’d heard the many stories from your national teammates, but when you’d signed with Barca and had two of your teammates approach you to talk about the Barca initiation you’d been shocked.

You were having coffee with Keira and Lucy, the afternoon after you’d signed and finished up all the media that had been required of you for Barca to put up on their social media and website.

You were sipping on your iced latte, whilst trying to finish off the pastry that Lucy had bought you, when they’d popped the question.

“Has anybody talked to you about Barca initiation?”

It was Keira who had piped up, her voice anxious from the other side of the table.

This was your first senior professional team that you were a proper member of, being only 22 you’d played the majority of your junior career with Manchester United, and your senior career had been a lot of bouncing between different teams. You’d never signed a contract that had you dedicated to a club for multiple seasons, so Barca was a big change for you.

“Lucy said that she had to sing a song or something.”

You hadn’t really thought about it much, you’d gone through the singing thing at your English call-up when you were 17.

“Right, but there is a little bit more to it than that.”

You looked up from your croissant, one of your eyebrows raised in questioning at your two older mentors.

“Are you going to tell me what you are talking about or continue to look at me like I’m about to explode?”

Lucy laughs, the anxiety on Keira’s face only becomes more prevalent.

“Okay, so a lot of the professional teams have different rituals that happen at the start of every season, initiation nights.”

You nod along, this isn’t new information to you, but the squint in Keira’s eyes at your obliviousness is enough to tell you that you aren’t catching on to whatever she is saying.

“Keira, can you get to the point?”

You're getting sick of Keira beating around the bush like you are a 10 year old.

“Barca has a night every year, a special night, it’s very important to some of the girls, no phones, no technology, it’s a very personal night, where some things that could be deemed unprofessional occur.”

You are still so lost, and you are certain that it’s being portrayed in your facial expression, is she talking about alcohol? Dancing? Pranks? Hazing?

“Keira, just tell me.”

Your statement is a plea, a plea for Keira to end this whole awkward encounter and just get to the point.

Lucy laughs heartily at the terrified look on Keira’s face, when she realises that Keira is stuck at what to say she takes over the conversation, both of her hands thudding down on the table.

“At the start of every season, we all get together, we have fun, no rules. This is different to your substandard initiation, this night is about connecting, on a different level with your teammates, on a sexual level.”

Your jaw slackens almost immediately, your eyes blinking aimlessly as you take in the last piece of Lucy’s statement.

“Now, that’s not to say that you have to do anything, if you want we can forget I just said that and you don’t have to be apart of that part of the night, it’s completely optional, a lot of the girls chose not to participate, but we just wanted to let you know that it is a option.”

An option.

It’s such odd wording, like it’s just an everyday decision.

“Sorry, I just need a few seconds to process.”

You take your time, taking a deep gulp of your coffee and a big bite of your croissant before you look back up at your teammates.

“Can I have a bit more of an explanation? I just want to understand this a little bit better.”

Lucy nods her head eagerly, a big smirk covering her face.

It’s such a taboo conversation to have at a fucking cafe, over breakfast, but neither of the other women seem very bothered by it.

“It’s a free for all, a survey is given out every year beforehand, things you are and aren’t open to engaging in. It’s separate to the other initiation, that happens during pre-season. This is different, It’s all very consensual, and if you choose to participate then you're limited on alcohol consumption, for safety reasons. It’s a lot of fun, a lot of pleasure and exploring. Alexia's been organising it for a few years now, so it’s a very secure process. It’s kind of seen as a final hoorah before pre-season and training starts. Normally they book out a suite at a hotel somewhere, but some years it’s been done at teammates' houses or airbnbs.”

You nod your head, it’s a very interesting concept, one that you are completely shocked by. Sure, you’ve heard about sexual innuendo amongst groups of players in clubs, but this is a completely different level. It’s uncharted territory for you, you definitely aren’t any form of prude or innocent type. You enjoy sex, you’re experienced enough to know that you are good at it. But you’ve never experienced anything near what this is.

“You’ve both been a part of it?”

Lucy nods definitively and Keira nods almost ashamedly.

“You’re okay with your partner being with other people?”

It might be an over step, but you figure this whole conversation is an over step.

“It’s not like that. I speak for both myself and Keira when I say that we both like to see each other having fun, that’s what this is. It’s a night of fun, and it’s with people that we both trust and spend every day with, there isn’t any worries about jealousy. There are a lot of the girls on the team that are in relationships, Ingrid and Mapi are together and they participate, Jenni and Alexia, Caro and Marta, there are also people in relationships outside of the team, it’s all consensual amongst both partners.”

You nod your head, it’s not like it matters to you, your not in a relationship, but it does make you feel a little bit better about the whole interaction.

“Sorry-I’m asking a lot of questions.”

Lucy just smiles and shakes her head.

“Don’t worry about it, I had plenty of questions to ask and I didn’t have a national teammate to ask about it. Ask away, it’s better to ask now then wonder later.”

You nod your head, you are still so shocked by this whole encounter.

“I-What happens at this night?”

It’s a broad question, and you almost palm yourself in the head for asking it.

“I seriously don’t need to give you the birds and bees talk do I?”

Lucy is jesting you, so you roll your eyes, pivoting to Keira with a genuine look of curiosity.

“It differs each year, depending on what people want to do. Toys, kinks, bondage, anything really. If you want to do something, someone is probably likely to want to oblige you. For example, last year, Luce put down that she liked to watch me service other people, and I got the opportunity to do that.”

Keira is stuttering over her words, it’s kind of cute, especially when you catch the glance that Lucy throws at her.

“This is the only time it happens every year.”

Keira cocks her head, looking at Lucy for some kind of permission before shaking her head.

“Not quite, there are agreements between some of the girls, on trips and things often happen but that’s more private, this is common knowledge amongst the team. Although, if you enjoy yourself there is a more than likely chance that more opportunities will come up, if you catch my drift.”

Keira is like your older sister, so sitting down and talking to her about sex has never been something that has ever crossed your mind remotely, but you are kind of glad that it is Kei that you are talking to. Because Keira doesn’t joke around the same as the others do, she wouldn’t make fun of you about something like this, nor would Lucy consider she’s Keira’s codependent.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong, and I'm going to be blunt about this. Every year, before the season starts, the Barca women have a massive sex free for all that’s disguised as an initiation party.”

Keira hesitantly nods, but not before she can correct you a little bit.

“It’s not disguised as an initiation party, there will be other new signings there, Ona, who you would know from United, and a few other girls. I can promise you that the newbies get the most attention, if that’s something you want, of course, there is absolutely no pressure for you to participate, this is about you doing as little or as much as you’d like.”

You take a few minutes of silence, whilst you toss up all of the words that have been spoken in the conversation between you and the couple.

It’s a lot to think about, and the thought is massively daunting.

Especially considering that you are going to be walking into a room full of women that you’ve hardly talked to. You’ve met Alexia, she dropped in to meet you when you were going through the process of your signing, but it had been a fairly rushed interaction and you’d been too busy being in awe of her to even think about anything besides the fact that in a few months time you’d be playing on the field beside her.

“If I said I wanted to?”

Lucy broke out into a fit of giggles, a big smile breaking out across her face.

“I’ll text la capitana, she’ll text you any details, you’ll probably get a visit or a phone call confirming your interest.”

You were still a little bit shocked, this whole conversation felt like it had been a dream, so much so that you’d had to reach down to your thigh and pinch it to confirm that this was in fact your life.

“That’s it?”

Lucy smirked and nodded, reaching over to pat you on the shoulder.

“You aren’t signing yourself off to the devil, Ale will be in contact, if you have any questions you’ll see Kei and I everyday leading up to it, and if you want to pull out at any stage that’s completely fine, no hard feelings, no judgement.”

You nodded your head, unable to do much more than that.

“It’s as easy as that?”

Lucy nods her head.

“Easy as that.”

It’s two days later, when you are properly acquainted with your captain.

You are sitting at your kitchen counter, finalising some university work that you are trying to get ahead of when you are rudely interrupted by the sound of a light knocking at your door.

You close your laptop, and turn down the volume of the playlist you have playing across your speakers, before you jog to the door of your apartment.

The last thing you expect to be faced with, is the face of your newest captain.

“Hola, Capitana.”

You don’t really know what else to say, you’ve had zero warning about this sudden visit, and whilst you are honoured, it’s also a little bit daunting having one of the best players the game has standing right in front of you.

“Lo siento, puedo pasar?” Sorry, may I come in?

You are nowhere near fluent in Spanish, Lucy had been giving you crash courses over the past few months once she’d found out about your signing, you had managed to get a cusp of basic conversational talk, the club had told you that once season commenced you’d be assigned a spanish teacher and a translator, so you hadn’t been super worried about it.

“Please, make yourself comfortable, would you like something to drink? I’ve got water, juice, coffee, tea?”

You list off everything that you can think of, as you open the door fully to Alexia.

“Just water should be fine.”

You are slightly shocked by the Spaniards' flawless pronunciation over her English, and also extremely relieved that you aren’t going to be forced to try and understand Spanish, because it certainly isn’t a skill you’ve even begun to master.

Alexia takes a spot sitting at your island bench, directly beside your uni work that had been the previous centre of your attention, which is now being completely occupied by your Catalan company.

“Here you go.”

You pass the glass over to Alexia, electing to stay positioned on the opposite side of the counter, instead of sitting down beside her. It feels less confrontational, more conversational and less one on one.

“Gracias, I’m sorry for dropping in without any warning, I was in the area and I figured it was best to discuss this all with you in person, I won’t be here long, I don’t want to disturb anything.”

You smiled at Alexia, shaking your head at her.

“It’s no trouble at all, I was just getting ahead of some course work, what can I do for you, Capitana?”

Alexia gives you a wry smile, reaching for her handbag which she’d set down on the floor.

“Please call me Alexia or Ale, none of the formality is necessary.”

You nod at her, Ale, it sounds nice coming off of your tongue, it makes you feel a little bit less terrified of the woman.

“Okay Ale, what can I do for you?”

Alexia smiles at you, a genuine smile that somehow warms your soul, it’s like magic, and you give yourself a mental note to ask Lucy about the effect later on.

“I’m just here to talk to you about our initiation night on Friday, Lucia tells me that you are keen to join in, si?”

You nod your head cautiously, it’s impossible to miss the little dimple in Alexia’s cheek as she licks her lips and smirks at you.

“Perfecta, I can assure you that you will have a lot of fun. Has Lucia talked to you about it, or would you like me to give you a bit of a debrief?”

Technically, Lucy has given you the debrief, but you are curious to learn more and see if Alexia has anything else to add.

“Lucy talked about it, but it was pretty brief and non-specific.”

Alexia nods, and gently pushes a sheet of paper across the table to you, one look at the words across the sheet had your eyes nearly bulging out of your eye sockets.

“On the left, you’ll see a list of girls' names, those are the girls from the team that are choosing to participate. Some just come to watch, others come to please, others come for pleasure. Everything that happens on the night is exclusive to the team, and if talked about outside of the team there are consequences. On the right you’ll see a list of common things that occur. I'll send out a survey to you later, the majority of those things will be on the list, you do not have to engage in anything that makes you uncomfortable, there is absolutely no pressure for you to do anything. Please understand that.”

You nod dutifully at Alexia, your eyes scanning the page and taking in the amount of names as well as different sexual acts and activities.

“We’ve rented out a house, it’s on private land, nice and spacious, lots of privacy. I’m sure Keira and Lucia will take you along with them, you can be as included as you wish, we take care of newbies, anything you want you’ll get, just don’t be shy to ask for it, okay?”

You nod sheepishly at Alexia. This conversation would make you uncomfortable normally, but talking about it with ‘La Reina’ like the two of you are discussing the weather is perplexing.

“Don’t stress about it, cariño, you’ll be well looked after, you are well sought after amongst the group, I’m sure that you’ll be very popular if you desire so. If not, I’m always happy to look after our newest additions.”

Alexia sends you a sardonic smile, sweet and sultry, full of teeth and a chunk of her plump pink lip caught in her teeth.

You think that Alexia can sense that you are stuck on what to say to her, a little bit star struck and still trying to process the words that have just left her mouth.

“Well, unless you have any other questions I'll see myself out, I’ll see you in a couple of days, adios.”

Alexia is up and out of your kitchen in a matter of seconds, barrelling towards the door, your body following hers and managing to speak out just as her hand connects with the brass of your door knob.

“Alexia, thank you for coming around, I really appreciate it, just one last question if you have a second?”

Alexia pivots on her heel, turning around to face you fully.

“Ask away.”

You nod your head, working up the confidence inside of you to ask the question.

“What should I expect?”

You are well aware that it’s a broad question, and you don’t know what kind of answer you are going to receive, but there is a part of your gut that’s just begging for more information, for something.

“You really want a spoiler?”

You nod your head definitively, you aren’t a person who enjoys surprises, you like to know what to expect, what’s happening. You’ve been this way since you were a child, and it’s followed you up until now.

“It’s an atmospheric experience, the feeling, the endorphins. There is nothing that matches being in a room full of people full of desire, nothing like being in a room full of women reaching levels of pleasure they never even imagined. I don’t know what else to say, it’s an out of body experience, there is a reason why it is so sacred amongst our team, as a newbie it’s daunting, I know it’s hard to believe but I was once in your position as well, and the best chunk of advice I can give you is to just let go, let yourself live in the moment whilst you are there, nobody is going to judge you, take a leap of faith, okay? I’ll see you in a couple of days, text me if you have any more questions or if you think I’ve left anything out, even if you just want to chat I’m here, take a read from the list I gave you, it should provide some insight.”

Alexia’s words resonate with you for days to come, the way she talked about the whole situation like it was gospel, her words making it seem like a holy sacrament. You study the sheet she’s given you as if it is the holy bible and you are trying to learn your scriptures.

14 women.

15 including yourself.

That’s a lot of people, and yet as you read over the names it seems nowhere near as magnitudinal as it sounds.

The list of kinks and situations is a source of a lot of your late night self explorations.

You’ve experimented with a lot of things over the years, but some of the things on the list have you weak at the knees just reading them. When your receive the email from Alexia it takes you a whole day to work up the courage to open up the attachments. The first one, as previously discussed is a survey. It has all of the things from the sheet Alexia gave you, plus a surplus of other things, and then some more questions to be personally filled in. It’s near impossible to work through it, it takes far longer than you think it should, but by the end of it you are left with a warm feeling in the bottom of your stomach, anticipation, shock at what you are looking at.

There are four boxes for each topic, yes, no, maybe. And below every maybe box there is a little text box which reads ‘please specify’.

It’s well organised, and you have a feeling that Alexia will have put a lot of time into it, from the very short amount of time that you’ve grown to know her you’re under the impression that she takes her role of captain very seriously.

Fingering? yes. Vaginal pentration? yes. Spanking? yes. Bondage? maybe - no ropes or handcuffs. Oral receiving? yes. Oral giving? yes. Use of toys? yes. Double penetration? yes. Anal? maybe - only experimented but open to trying. Sensory deprivation? maybe - no gags. Humiliation? no. Sex with multiple people? yes. Orgasm denial/control? yes. Sex with a couple? yes. Praise? yes. Degradation? yes. Choking/breath play? no. Dominant? no. Switch? maybe - most likely not. Submissive? yes.

The list goes on, it covers every single thing you’ve ever done and then more, it makes you quiver in the depths of your core, just with anticipation.

Once you’ve finished the yes no part of the survey and answered the questions down the bottom you move onto the other attachment, which from a quick skim over outlines the rules, expectations and details of the night.

The main things that cathc your eyes are the sentences relating to safe words and consent. It seems important so you pay extra attention to it. It talks about the traffic light system, that once you consent to the night it is your responsibility to use your words, there will be regular check ins but unless you use your safe word there is no expectation for anything to stop.

Some other topics that catch your eyes are details about time, place, clothes, etcetera.

The majority of it is just information that Lucy and Keira had already outlined to you, the newbie run down.

Three days later, and you are slowly getting ready for your night to come.

Over the past 72 hours there has been one thing on your mind, tonight. You aren’t spared a minute from your thoughts and when Keira and Lucy walk through your front door, running an hour late you are buzzing. You are well aware of the fact that you look like a 8 year old who has just skulled a bottle of cola, every single extremity connected to your body shaking wildly.

You were lost on what to wear, and it had taken a long chat with Keira yesterday to convince you that apparently it was nowhere near as big of a deal as you were making it in your head.

You settled for a matching sweat combo, just because you figured it would be coming off anyway. It was paired with one of your nicest pairs of lingerie, a red set which was probably leaning towards a size too small. The set accentuated every single part of your body though, it hugged your curves, made your ass pop and your tits look delectable.

It felt almost criminal to cover it up with a tank top and nike tracksuit and sweater, but you also found comfort in the extra layer of clothing, it feels like a layer of armour.

You’ve been sitting in your apartment, contemplating everything for an hour and a half when Lucy and Kei finally show up.

They walk in without any warning, and it’s certainly a sight for sore eyes.

You aren’t sure when was the last time you’ve seen either of them glowing and looking so smiley, but it’s definitely a moment where you take a mental picture for the future.

They’re both dressed similarly to you, and for once you don’t find yourself guilty for being curious about what hides beneath the couple's clothing.

“Hola.”

Even your words are practically dripping with anxiety, your voice shaky and stuttery.

“Hola amor, you ready to go?”

Lucy looks especially delighted.

Her hair is down, something that you don’t see very often. She’s got a light layer of makeup on that compliments her facial figures without making it look like she’s over done it.

Keira looks similar, her hair is down and curled every so slightly, if you didn’t know her so well you probably wouldn’t have realised but the effort is noted inside your brain. She’s also got a very light layer of makeup on, both women look stunning, perfect together, the picture of love.

It makes you hopeful, hopeful that one day you’ll find somebody that looks at you the way Lucy does at Keira, and vice versa.

“Mhm.”

You don’t get up from the couch, all of a sudden you feel unable to move.

Keira recognises it fairly quickly, taking a seat down next to you, her hand falling on top of your knee and squeezing lightly.

“Everything alright, little one?”

Keira’s voice is so soft, it makes you feel safe, like you’re at home.

“Just nervous.”

As far as nerves go, you're fairly certain the euros final doesn’t even match this, it’s weird.

“You know that if you want to back out that’s completely fine, nobody is going to make fun of you.”

You shook your head, backing out was the last thing you wanted to do, but it didn’t make everything else less daunting.

“M’ fine, just need a sec.”

Keira’s hand slowly moves up from your knee, to your thigh, her grip becoming a little bit lighter.

“I can think of a way to calm some of those nerves.”

Keira’s voice is unusually confident, and it surprises you greatly when she reaches down to your chin and pulls it upwards so you’re looking at her.

It’s just then that you realise exactly how close the two of your faces are, so close that you can feel Keira’s breath on your face. It’s warm and it tickles against your skin in a way that you’ve never felt before. She’s smiling at you, but there is a deeper connection through her eyes, the way she's looking at you makes you feel like you are the only person in the world.

“Luce?”

You’re well aware of what this whole night ensues, but it doesn’t settle the slight niggle in your gut that you definitely do not want to be reading this situation wrong.

“Yes, honey?”

Keira’s eyes don’t waiver from your own, even as yours look across the room to look at Lucy, who is giving you a similar look to Keira, somewhat predatory in the best way possible. Her voice is practically dripping with confidence, doused in assertiveness.

You look between the both of them, realising that there is definitely no push back from either of them.

“Please tell me I’m not reading this wrong.”

Keira silences you by pressing her lips to your own, you freeze up for a few seconds, your mouth completely unmoving as you realise this really is happening, that for the last week you haven’t been walking around in some kind of weird dream that’s been created because of some weird delusion in your head.

After a few seconds, you relax into the kiss, moving your own lips against Keira’s and savouring the flavour of strawberry gum and coffee that is fresh on her lips. It tastes how Keira feels, warm and content and it calms down any of the previous nerves that were occupying your stomach, the shaking across your whole body as Keira’s hand on your jaw gently caresses the skin with the pads of her fingertips.

After a few more seconds of Keira sucking and biting at your lips she retracts herself, a big smile on her face as she continues to stare at you.

“Luce you need to try, she tastes divine.”

The compliment makes you blush more than you were already, the redness spreading down to your neck as you feel the couple's eyes on you.

“All in due time Kei, we don’t want to overwhelm her, now I think it’s about time we get a move on, hm?”

You nod subconsciously, your brain still floating on a different planet as you compartmentalise exactly what just happened. All you can think about is how Keira’s lips felt, addictively soft and supple, it’s a feeling that you are certain you won’t forget.

“God you’ve gone and broken her Kei, already?”

The feeling of Keira squeezing your knee once again manages to awaken you from your trance, your eyes darting between the couple cautiously.

“You ready to go, honey?”

Keira’s voice is as soft as her lips, you're so effortlessly enraptured by her that it makes you more than a little bit excited for whatever is to come.

You’ve never seen Keira look this carefree, this cheeky and it makes you feel so much more at peace then you had previously.

You allow Keira to guide you out of your own apartment, your brain still working at a snail's pace so before you even realise you are sitting in the backseat of Lucy’s very nice mercedes. Instead of sitting in the front beside Lucy, Keira has elected to sit in the backseat with you, her body pressed up against your own and her hand resting comfortably on the inside of your knee.

Your knee is bouncing up and down under Keira’s hand, and before you can say anything, her hand is moving up to your chin and rotating it to meet her lips.

This time the kiss is more motivated, more purposeful but sweet all the same.

You give Keira control, your lips practically melting into hers as her hand tangles into the back of your head, tugging at the tresses of hair at the nape of your neck.

It feels so good, so good that you part your lips to moan, instead your sounds are silenced though by Keira’s tongue.

Keira kisses with passion and fervour, it’s quite shocking based off of her personality and all the times you’ve seen her around Lucy, but it makes you giddy on the inside all the same.

“Keira, behave.”

The words come when Keira’s spare hand comes up to your covered breast, you don’t even really notice until you see Lucy looking directly at Keira in the rearview mirror and the look on her face is a mixture of displeasure and humour.

“You're just mad that I got her first.”

Keira’s hand doesn’t move, and it’s fairly clear that Lucy isn’t pleased about it.

“You keep talking like that to me and you won’t like how the night goes for you.”

Keira’s hand quickly moves down from your breast but she doesn’t remove it completely, instead moving it down to your lap again, but her kisses don’t stop, she litters little kisses all over your jaw and neck, all whilst you maintain the eye contact with Lucy in the rearview.

She’s smirking, her eyes don’t leave yours unless they go back to the road, and even when they don’t you keep your eyes on her.

Keira is only egged on by the little sounds and moans that leave your mouth as she finds different spots across your neck and face that make you melt even further into her.

“How does she feel honey? Is she getting you warmed up?”

Lucy’s words are directed towards you, it takes a few seconds for your brain to wrap it’s way around them but once you do you reply quickly.

“Feels good, m’ sorry.”

Lucy’s eyebrows furrow, and when the next red light comes she turns around completely to look at you.

“What do you have to be sorry for?”

Lucy voice is more questioning than accusatory.

“Sorry for getting Kei in trouble and kissing her without your permission.”

Lucy scoffs and Keira snorts from her spot on your neck.

“Oh honey, not your fault that Kei is choosing to be a bit bratty, these nights always get her quite over zealous, as far as kissing her you’ve got my full permission, you don’t need to ask.”

You nod cautiously, moaning as Keira begins to suck a mark right into the pulse point on your neck.

“Kei, behave yourself, you know what Ale said about not getting over excited.”

It’s the mention of Alexia’s name that has your ears perking up.

It seems to get Keira to back off a bit, her lips at least, her hand continues to rub gently at the inside of your knee and thigh and you slowly drive down a dark and windy road.

“Y’know you're all Kei’s been talking about all week, she’s been very excited for tonight.”

You look over at the older English woman, feeling a little bit confident when you notice that Keira is blushing wildly and avoiding your eye contact completely.

“Lucee.”

Keira is clearly embarrassed, which must mean that what Lucy is saying has come truth, which means that Keira has been thinking about you.

“All she’s been talking about, I can say the same about quite a lot of the girls, you are a popular topic.”

It makes you feel all giddy in your stomach with the acknowledgment from Lucy, she’s the last person that would lie to you, so it makes you feel especially good.

Keira groans and hides her head against the window.

“Really?”

Lucy scoffs once again at the shock in your voice.

“Trust me honey, pretty sure there will be girls queuing up for you, us oldies don’t get that kind of attention.”

Keira rolls her eyes, which is enough of an answer for you to realise that Lucy is trying to be humble.

It’s just as you’re about to say something that the car pulls into a driveway, which is already full of cars.

Alexia is right, it’s the only light that you’ve seen for miles, there is nobody for miles, which is a big comfort.

Lucy opens your door for you, helping you out and immediately beginning to assess your neck.

Once she’s certain that there are no marks she moves her vision up to your face, reaching down for a quick kiss.

It’s different to Keira, rougher, her lips more coarse.

It still feels equally as good.

Lucy releases fairly quickly, Keira’s already walking up the stairs to the house, an extra pep in her step as she makes it to the door.

Lucy and you are quick to follow her.

The door has a keypad on it, Keira quickly punches in a four digit code before the door pops open. The entry hallway is completely empty and silent, all three of you toe off your shoes and leave them and your socks by the door.

Lucy leads towards the door at the end of the entry way, you loiter behind, completely terrified of whatever is going to be behind it.

[pierregazly]

i've got you ꨄ oscar piastri

oscar piastri x best friend!reader

warnings: angsty, arthur leclerc is the villain, oscar is in love w/ the reader but wont ever admit it, no hea [963 words]

request: 💗 can i request oscar with prompt 6? please and thank you!! 😽[6. "I've got you."]

A violent sob ripped itself from your body, your hand clutching the phone in front of you, the incriminating photo in plain view as you tried to process what was so prevalent on the screen.

It had been so obvious that things were falling apart in your relationship, they had been for months. Date nights were cancelled, anniversaries forgotten, but you never thought he would lower himself to this. Never thought you’d be getting that ‘I think this is your boyfriend?’ text. 

But here you were, trying to contain the feelings flowing through you, the anger, the sadness, the heartbreak.

He had told you it was a small trip with his brothers, it was offseason for everyone, the only time they really had to relax. The lie was staring right at you, Arthur’s hands gripping the ass of an unnamed brunette, his lips connected with hers. There was no denying that it was him, the video that followed showing the two of them pulling away from each other, an intoxicated smirk on the lips of your long-term boyfriend.

You didn’t know how to react. Didn’t know if it was worth sending the proof to him, whether you should call him and ask him outright or act like it was all fake. The emotions were running through you so aggressively, you hadn’t even had the chance to properly think through everything.

How could he do this? Why did he think this was okay? How can he tell you he loves you, and then do this? Were you not good enough for him?

The variety of thoughts continued to cipher through your mind. Your body was begging your brain to stop, begging it to give you a moment to get a grip on reality, begging it to allow you a moment to think clearly.

You barely heard the repetitive knock on the door, the noises mixing in with the unrelenting thumping noises clouding your ears.

Oscar had a key to the apartment, always had. He always claimed it was a ‘safety measure’ and he needed to have one in case anything happened, or in case he ever had to get you into your apartment after a night out.

Most of the time it was used because you weren’t answering a message quick enough, and he wanted to spend time with you. 

He had been messaging you since this morning, offering to bring you pastries from your favourite bakery, asking if you wanted to get lunch, had asked more than once if everything was alright. It wasn’t until he saw the pictures, his brain taking a moment to catch up with his eyes when he realized why you weren’t answering him.

You had been friends for years, longer than any of your other friendships, had known him almost double the amount of time you knew Arthur. He had tried more than once to explain how disastrous dating the Monegasque could end up, but his attempts were futile. You were too stubborn to listen to him, too enamoured to believe that Arthur could be anything except lovely.

There was barely a thought in his mind before he was making his way to your apartment, aggressively knocking on the door; practically begging to be let in. He knew you were in there, could hear the soft sounds of you crying through the door, his heart breaking with every vicious sob he heard through the wood.

It didn’t take him long to find his key, pushing open the door with a bated breath, unsure as to the scene he was about to walk into.

You didn’t even acknowledge his presence, your body having begun the process of curling in on itself, trying to savour any sense of peace it could gather. Oscar felt his stomach drop when he finally made eye contact with you, the puffiness of them so obvious, the tears still clouding your vision.

“Oh, love. C’mere, I’ve got you.”

A small whimper left your lips as he sat down on the couch next to you, gently tugging your body into his. Your hand clutched onto his shirt, the tears still falling from your eyes instantly soaking the material when you pressed your head to his shoulder. 

“Why’d he do this to me, Osc? Was I not good enough for him? What did I do to deserve this?”

Every other word punctuated with a cry or a sniffle prompted a small grimace onto his features. The pit in his stomach grew worse and worse with every word that fell from your mouth, his own heart breaking again as he tried to console you.

“You’re more than good enough for him, I’ve been saying for years you’re too good for him. You didn’t deserve this, at all. He’s a piece of shit,” he said.

His hands continued to rub up and down your exposed arms, your tears subsiding as you melted into his comfort. The grogginess was still prevalent in your head, your eyes puffy, your brain still trying to get a grasp of what was going on; but all you could focus on was the calluses on Oscar’s fingers catching on your skin, the heave of his chest as he cuddled you closer.

He was always the first person there for you, even without having to pick up the phone and ask him to be. For him, you always came first, above racing, above his friends; he would drop everything he was doing and run to you if you asked. He would never admit that, though, ever.

“I wish it was you all those years ago, Osc. You would’ve never done this to me,” you said.

Oscar felt his own heart splitting in two. You were right, he wished it was him all those years ago, too. 

i did NOT know where to go with this one!!!! so angsty and sadness it is!!!!! sorry!!!!